Mama shook her head. 'When you get to hell, the devil's gonna learn a trick or two.'
'Catherine, I swear on a stack of—'
'Don't say it. It's blasphemy,' she warned. He gulped and nodded.
'Well, I did put some money in an envelope. Them postal workers stole it, for sure. They open the envelopes with a candle, Gabrielle, and then they reseal them with the wax,' he said.
'Oh, Daddy,' I said, shaking my head.
'Don't you two look like a pair of owls.' He started to laugh, but Mama stepped to the side and pointed to the screen door where she had sewn up the slash.
'See that, Jack? Your friends came a-calling and cut up our screen door when they didn't find you here.' 'Friends?'
'Mr. Spike and Mr. Longstreet.'
'Here?' His face turned paper white and he spun around as if they were waiting for him behind a tree. 'What'dja tell them?'
'That you were working in Baton Rouge. Of course, I didn't know I was telling a lie.'
'When were they here?'
'A few days ago, Jack. What do you owe them?' 'Just a little money. I'll straighten it out,' he said. 'How much is a little, Jack?' she pursued.
'I got no time to talk to you, woman,' he said. 'I gotta go upstairs and rest from the journey.'
He climbed the stairs, pulling himself up and nearly pulling out a rafter at the same time. Then he went into the house and stumbled up the stairs, leaving a cloud of sour whiskey stench behind him.
'I bet his will be the first corpse the worms reject,' Mama said, and plopped into her rocking chair. It made me sick to see her so defeated and depressed. I thought it was that and the heat and my own gloom that upset my stomach something awful that night. Mama thought I might be coming down with some sort of summer dysentery. She gave me one of her herbal drinks and told me to go to bed early.
But the next morning I woke up just as nauseous and had to vomit again. Mama was worried, but once I finished throwing up, I suddenly felt better. My headache was gone and my nausea passed.
'I guess your medicine worked, Mama,' I told her. She nodded, but she looked thoughtful and unconvinced. I wasn't sick again for nearly a week, but I was continually tired and sluggish, once falling asleep in Mama's rocker.
'This heat,' Mama said, thinking that was the cause. I tried to keep cool, wrapped a wet towel around my neck, drank lots of water, but I was still tired all the time.
One afternoon Mama noticed me returning from the outhouse.
'How many times you been to the bathroom today, Gabrielle?' she asked.
'A few. Just to piddle, Mama. My stomach's okay.' She still stared at me suspiciously.
And then the next morning I woke and had the same nausea. I had to vomit again.
Mama came to me and put a wet towel on my forehead and then she sat on my bed and stared at me. Without speaking, she pulled the blanket back and looked at my breasts.
'Is it sore there?' she asked. I didn't reply. 'It is, isn't it?'
'A little.'
'You tell me the truth and mighty quickly, Gabrielle Landry. Did you miss your time?'
'It's come late before, Mama.'
'How late is it, Gabrielle?' she probed.
'A few weeks,' I admitted.
She was quiet. She looked away and took a deep breath and then she turned to me slowly, her eyes sad but firm. Her lips were pressed together so hard, the color drained from them, but there was a redness in her cheeks and in her neck. She sucked in some air slowly and looked up before she looked at me again. I couldn't remember Mama ever looking at me this sadly.
'How did this happen, Gabrielle?' she asked softly. 'Who made you pregnant?'
I shook my head, the tears burning beneath my eyelids. 'I'm not pregnant, Mama. I'm not.'
'Yes, you are, honey. You're as pregnant as pregnant is. They're ain't no half-pregnant. When did this happen? I ain't seen you with no boy here and don't remember you going off except to go . . .' Her eyes widened. 'Into the swamp. You been meeting someone, Gabrielle?'
'No, Mama.'
'It's time for the whole truth, Gabrielle. No half sentences.'
'Oh, Mama!' I cried and covered my face with my hands. 'Mama!'
'What in tarnation's going on here?' Daddy complained. He came to my doorway in his tattered underpants. 'A man's trying to get some rest.'
'Oh, hush up, Jack. Can't you see something's happened to Gabrielle?'
'Huh? Whaaa .' He scrubbed his cheeks with his rough palms and ran his long fingers through his hair. 'What happened?'
