Ruby

'I've got to go. We have some relatives coming for lunch. See you later,' Paul promised, and he darted off to join his parents.

I stepped beside Grandmere Catherine just as she invited Mrs. Livaudis and Mrs. Thibodeau to our house for coffee and blackberry pie. Knowing how slowly they would walk, I hurried ahead, promising to start the coffee. But when I got to our front yard, I saw my grandfather down at the dock, tying his pirogue to the back of the dingy.

'Good morning, Grandpere,' I called. He looked up slowly as I approached.

His eyes were half-closed, the lids heavy. His hair was wild, the strands in the back flowing in every direction over his collar. I imagined that the tin drum Paul predicted was banging away in Grandpere's head. He looked grouchy and tired. He hadn't changed out of the clothes he had slept in and the stale odor of last night's rum whiskey lingered on him. Grandmere Catherine always said the best thing that could happen to him was for him to fall into the swamp. 'That way, at least he'd get a bath.'

'You bring me back to my shack in the swamp last night?' he asked quickly.

'Yes, Grandpere. Me and Paul.'

'Paul? Who's Paul?'

'Paul Tate, Grandpere.'

'Oh, a rich man's son, eh? Them cannery people ain't much better than the oil riggers, dredging the swamp to make it wider for their damn big boats. You got no business hanging around that sort. There's only one thing they want from the likes of you,' he warned.

'Paul's very nice,' I said sharply. He grunted and continued to tie his knot.

'Coming from church, are ya?' he asked without looking up.

'Yes.'

He paused and looked back toward the road.

'Your Grandmere's still gabbin' with those other busybodies, I imagine. That's why they go to church,' he claimed, 'to nourish gossip.'

'It was a very nice service, Grandpere. Why don't you ever go?'

'This here is my church,' he declared, and waved his long fingers at the swamp. 'I got no priest lookin' over my shoulder, spitting hell and damnation down my back.' He stepped into the dingy.

'Would you like a cup of fresh coffee, Grandpere? I'm about to make some. Grandmere has some of her friends coming for blackberry pie and—'

'Hell no. I wouldn't be caught dead with those fishwives.' He shifted his eyes to me and softened his gaze. 'You look nice in that dress,' he said. 'Pretty as your mother was.'

'Thank you, Grandpere.'

'I guess you cleaned up my shack some, too, didn't you?' I nodded. 'Well, thanks for that.'

He reached for the cord to pull and start his motor.

'Grandpere,' I said, approaching. 'You were talking about someone who was in love and something about money, last night after we brought you home.'

He paused and looked at me hard, his eyes turning to granite very quickly.

'What else did I say?'

'Nothing. But what did you mean, Grandpere? Who was in love?'

He shrugged.

'Probably remembered one of the stories my father told me about his father and Grandpere. Our family goes way back to the riverboat gamblers, you know,' he said with some pride. 'Lots of money traveled through Landry fingers,' he said, holding up his muddied hands, 'and each of the Landrys cut quite a romantic figure on the river. Lots of women were in love with them. You could line them up from here to New Orleans.'

'Is that why you gamble away all your money? Grandmere says it's in the Landry blood,' I said.

'Well, she ain't wrong about that. I'm just not as good at it as some of my kinfolk was.' He leaned forward, smiling, the gaps in his teeth dark and wide where he had pulled out his own when the aches became too painful to manage. 'My great, great-Grandpere, Gib Landry, was a sure-thing player. Know what that was?' he asked. I shook my head. 'A player who never lost because he had marked cards.' He laughed. 'They called them 'Vantage tools.' Well, they certainly gave an advantage.' He laughed again.

'What happened to him, Grandpere?'

'He was shot to death on the Delta Queen. When you live hard and dangerous, you're always gambling,' he said, and pulled the cord. The motor sputtered. 'Someday, when I got the time, I'll tell you more about your ancestors. Despite what she tells you,' he added, nodding toward the house, 'you oughta know something about them.' He pulled the cord again and ,this time the motor caught and began to rumble. 'I gotta get goin'. I got some oysters to catch.'

'I wish you could come to dinner at the house tonight and meet Paul,' I said. What I really meant was I wish we were a family.

'What do you mean, meet Paul? Your Grandmere invited him to dinner?' he asked skeptically.

'I did. She said it was all right.'

He stared at me a long moment and then turned back to his motor.

'Got no time for socializin'. Gotta make me a livin'.'