I poured his glass of lemonade and returned to the living room.
'Thank you,' he said, taking the glass, and I sat across from him on the worn, faded brown settee, the threads so thin on the ends of the arms, the stuffing of Spanish moss showed through. He took a sip of the lemonade. 'Very good,' he said. Then he looked about nervously for a moment and smiled. 'You haven't got much here, Ruby, but you keep it real nice.'
'Not as nice as Grandmere Catherine used to keep it,' I said.
'Your Grandmere was quite a woman. I must confess I never took much stock in faith healing and the herbal medicines she concocted, but I know many people who swore by her. And if anyone could stand up to your Grandpere, it was her,' he added.
'I miss her a great deal,' I admitted. He nodded and sipped some more lemonade. Then he took a deep breath. 'I guess. . . I guess I'm a little nervous. The past has a way of coming back at you and punching you in the stomach when you least expect it sometimes,' he added, and leaned forward, his sharp, penetrating gaze fixing on me.
'You're Catherine Landry's granddaughter and you've been through a helluva lot yourself. I can see in your face that you're much older and wiser than the pretty little girl I used to see march up to the church beside her Grandmere.'
'The past has punched us both in the stomach,' I said. His eyes brightened with more interest.
'Yes. Well then, you'll understand why I don't want to beat around the bush. You know some of what happened in the past and you probably got some ideas about me. I don't blame anyone but myself for that. Twenty-one years ago, I was what you'd call a very young man, full of himself. I'm not here to justify anything or make excuses for myself,' he added quickly. 'What I did was wrong and I've been paying for it in one way or another all my life.
'But your mother . . . Gabrielle . . . she was one special young woman.' He shook his head and smiled with the memory. 'Being your Grandmere's daughter and all, I used to think she was one of them swamp goddesses about whom the old folks whispered and most Christian folks half believed in in spite of themselves. Seemed like you could never come upon her, never surprise her without her looking beautiful, so beautiful, it was . . . spiritual. I know it's hard for you to understand about a woman you never set eyes on, but that's the way she was.'
Deep in my heart, I felt waves of dread. Why was he telling all this now?
'Every time I set eyes on her,' he continued, 'my heart would pound and I'd feel like tiptoeing around her. When she looked at me . . . it was like that Greek thing . . . you know with that cherub and his bow and arrow?'
'Cupid?'
'Yeah, Cupid. I was married, but we had no children yet. I tried to love my wife. I did,' he said, raising his hand, 'but it was as if Gabrielle cast spells or something. One day I was poling through the swamp alone, returning from a little fishing, and I came around a turn and found her swimming without a stitch of clothing. I thought all time had stopped. I froze and held my breath. All I could do was watch her. She had the most youthful, happy eyes, and when she set them on me, she laughed. I couldn't help myself. I peeled off my own clothes as fast as I could and dove into the water. We swam side by side, splashed each other and tormented each other by embracing and breaking away. I followed her out of the water to her canoe and there . . .
'Well, the rest you know. I owned up to what I had done as soon as it was revealed. Your Grandpere Jack came after me.
'Gladys, well, she was devastated, of course. I broke down and cried and begged her to forgive me. In the end she didn't, but she was bigger about it than I thought possible. She decided we would pretend the baby was hers and she began this elaborate ruse, faking her pregnancy.
'Your Grandpere wasn't satisfied with the initial payment. He came after me time after time, demanding more until I finally put an end to it. By then Paul was a little boy and I realized no one would believe any story Jack Landry spun. He stopped bothering me and the whole affair ended.
'Of course, I've spent most of my life ever since trying to make it up to my wife. She never let Paul think she was anything but his mother either, and until the time Paul found out the truth, he never felt anything toward her but a son's love. I'm sure of that. In fact, I go so far as to say he still feels that way toward Gladys. He's just an awfully confused young man sometimes. We've had our arguments about it, and I thought he understood and accepted and finally forgave.'
He paused and anxiously, with narrow eyes, waited for me to digest his tale.
'That's a great deal to ask anyone to forgive, especially Paul,' I said. His lips grew tight for a moment and then he nodded as if confirming a thought about me.
'I got to tell you,' he continued, 'when you ran off to New Orleans, I was happy. I thought he would start looking for a nice young lady to be his wife and the turmoil would be over, but . . . you came back, and last night . . . last night he came to me and told me what you two had decided. All the time he was having that mansion built, I feared something like this, but I hoped I was wrong.'
He sat back, exhausted for a moment.
'Our plan is to just live together, side by side,' I said softly. 'So many people around here think Pearl is Paul's child anyway.'
'I know. Gladys even feared it herself for a while until Paul explained, but now she's in a deep depression. You see,' he said, sitting forward, 'we both want only the best for Paul. We want him to have a normal life, to have the things any man should have, especially children of his own. I don't think he realizes what he's proposing to do.
'In short, Ruby, I come here to plead for my son. I come here to ask you to refuse to marry him. There's no need for him to pay for his father's sins. Maybe this one time, the son don't have to have his father's mistakes and pain on his head. We can change it, stop it from happening, if you'll only turn him away. Once you do, he'll settle down and marry some nice young girl and—'
'The last thing in the world I want to do, Mr. Tate, is hurt Paul,' I said, the tears streaming down my face. I made no effort to wipe them away and they dripped from my chin.
'I'm really asking for my wife, too. I don't want her hurt anymore. It seems this sin I committed won't die. It's reared its ugly head again to haunt me even twenty-one years later.'
He straightened up in his seat. 'I'm prepared to offer you some security, Ruby. I can give you what you need until you find yourself another young man and—'
