Tarnished Gold

'I know you, Gabrielle. I know when you've laughed and when you've cried. I know when you're so happy inside, your face becomes a second sun and when you're so sad, the clouds are in your eyes. I nursed and diapered you, fed you and cleaned your bottom. Don't keep no secret locked from me, honey. I got the keys and will find it one day anyway.'

'I'm fine, Mama. Please,' I bel :ed. I hated not being honest. Mama shook her head.

'It'll be only a matter of time,' she predicted, but she relented and I was able to get her to talk about other things while we worked on items to sell at our roadside stand.

We had far more than we needed for our tourist booth, but we worked on hats, baskets, and wove blankets to have for sale as soon as summer ended and the tourists started flocking back to the bayou. Days passed, one day indistinguishable from the other, mostly. Every day after a week, Mama looked for the check from Daddy, but none arrived. She mumbled about it under her breath and went on to do other things, but I knew it was eating away at her like termites in a dead tree. She didn't have to say it, but we were dipping deeply into her stash.

And then one-afternoon, just about ten days after Daddy had left, a late-model automobile appeared in our yard and two tall, stout men, one with a thin scar across his chin and the other with what looked like a piece of his right ear missing, came stomping over our galerie to rap hard on the front door. I was in the living room thumbing through a copy of Life magazine Mrs. Dancer had given Mama when Mama went to treat her stomach cramps. Mama was in the kitchen and walked quickly to the door. I got up and followed.

'Yes?' she asked.

'You Landry?'

'Yes, we are,' Mama said. Instinctively she stepped back and pushed me back too. 'What do you want?'

'We want to see your husband, Jack. He been here?'

'No. Jack's in Baton Rouge, working on construction.'

'He ain't been here?' the man with the chipped ear demanded.

'I said no,' Mama replied. 'I'm not in the habit of telling lies.'

They both laughed in a way that chilled my blood.

'Married to Jack Landry and you don't tell lies?' the man with the scar said. His thin lips curled into a smile of mockery.

'That's right,' Mama snapped. The back of her neck stiffened and she moved forward, all retreat out of her eyes. She fixed them on both men. 'Now, what is it you want with my husband?'

'We want him to pay his debts,' the other man said. 'What debts?'

'Gambling debts. Tell him Spike and Longstreet been here and will be back. Make sure he gets the message. Here's our calling card,' he added, and took out a switchblade knife to cut a seam in our screen door. I felt the blood drain from my face. I screamed and Mama gasped, putting her arm around me quickly. The way they stood there glaring in at us made ice water drip down my spine.

'Get off my galerie! Get off my land, hear! I'll call the police. Go on.'

They laughed and took their time leaving. We watched them get into their car and drive away, both our hearts pounding.

'Now what trouble has that man brought on our heads?' Mama wailed.

'Maybe we should go to town and tell the police, Mama.'

'They won't care. They know your father's reputation. I'll fetch a needle and thread and sew up that screen,' she said, 'before we get a flock of mosquitoes in here.'

We both tried to not talk about the two 'men, but every time we heard a car engine, we looked up fearfully, expectantly, and then sighed and released our held breaths when the car went on past our shack. It was hard enough to fall asleep with the heat and humidity, but now with fear loitering at our door, too, we both tossed and turned and opened our eyes and listened hard whenever we heard any unusual sounds at night, and especially whenever we heard automobiles.

The two ugly men didn't return, but four days later, while Mama and I were having a salad for lunch, we heard a horn and looked out to see Daddy's truck bouncing over the front yard. He nearly drove it into the house. He took a swig of a jug he had beside him on the front seat and then heaved the jug out the window. He practically fell out of the truck getting out. He stumbled and made his way to the galerie where we stood, both wide-eyed.

'What' cha both standin' there lookin' like ya seen a ghost?' he demanded, stopping short so quickly, he nearly toppled over. It's only me, Jack Landry, home. Ain'tcha glad to death?' he said, and laughed.

'What are you doing back here, Jack, and tanked up with rotgut whiskey, too?' Mama asked, her hands on her hips.

'Work ended faster than I expected,' he replied, unable to stop his swaying. He closed his eyes, a silly smile on his lips.

'In other words, you got canned again, right?' Mama asked, wagging her head with anger.

'Let's just say me and the foreman had a disagreement to a point beyond compromise.'

'You came to work drunk as a skunk,' Mama concluded. 'That,' Daddy said, waving his long finger in the air like the conductor -of an orchestra, 'is a dirty, low-down lie.'

'I bet you ain't got a penny in your pocket, neither,'

Mama continued.

'Well . . .'

'And you never sent home a dollar, Jack.'

'You didn't get nothin' in the mail?' he said, his eyes wide.