He held up his forefinger and closed his eyes, pretending great concentration. After a moment he opened them and reached behind my ear to produce another pearl.
I laughed again. 'You're very good.'
He nodded, smiling emphatically.
'Who taught you all this?' I pointed to the pearl and then to him. Either he was very bright or he could read lips, too. 'Graaaaa pppaaa,' he said.
'Your grandpere?'
He nodded.
'Why can't you speak well?' I asked, pointing to my tongue and making movements with my fingers. He pointed to his ears, to my stomach, and then to himself.
'You were born deaf,' I concluded.
And for the first time, I wondered how my baby would be at birth. Would he or she have some defect? Mama thought it was all going well, but even Mama couldn't know everything. If a baby was born out of unwanted sex, would that affect the baby's health? I had been treating my pregnancy like an illness, not wanting this baby inside me until the moment I felt it move. I'd hate to be responsible for it being born deaf or blind. I should have asked Mama, but then I thought she might not tell me the truth for fear I would sit here and worry all day.
Henry walked about the room, gazing at the dolls and then at the dollhouse, which intrigued him. He knelt beside it, and after a moment, he, too, realized it was the Tate house. He pointed to it and to the walls.
'Yes.' I nodded.
Just then the baby kicked especially hard and I moaned and seized my stomach. I had to sit on the bed. Henry gazed at me with curiosity and concern, and I pointed to my stomach and then kicked my foot in the air. His eyes widened. The baby kicked again and again. I gestured for Henry to put his hand on my stomach. He stood up slowly and approached timidly. The baby was still very active. When Henry hesitated, I reached out, took his hand, and brought it to my stomach. I held his palm there as the baby continued to kick.
Henry's face beamed with excitement. Then he laughed. He started to sign question after question. I shook my head. He pointed to my stomach and then made his arms into a cradle.
'Oh, you want to know how long?' I thought and counted out six fingers to indicate six weeks, but I could see that he didn't know whether I met six days or six months.
He folded his legs and sat on the floor in front of me, gazing up with wonder. When I looked into those dark brown eyes, I could just sense the myriad questions that swirled around in his pool of curiosity. Who was I? Why was I being kept secretly here? Perhaps he even wondered about the father of the baby. What did it all have to do with the Tates?
He pointed to himself again and again said, 'Hen ree,' and pointed to me. He wanted to know my name very badly and was frustrated with my inability to tell him. I thought for a moment, wondering how far he had gone in school. I rose, got a pen and paper, and wrote out my name. He sat beside me on the bed and looked at the notepad. Then I pointed to my lips and sounded out my name slowly.
'Ga-bri-elle.'
He shook his head. I realized he was illiterate. Perhaps he had never been to school or had only been there a very short time, I thought. How sad. I considered the problem and then I took his right hand and put it on my throat. His eyes were filled with surprise and even a bit of fear. I repeated my name, hoping he would feel the vibrations. Then I put his hand on his own throat. I did it a few times until I saw a brightness in his eyes.
'Ga.'
'Go ahead, that's it,' I said excitedly.
'Ga brrr.'
We repeated the action until he pronounced the second syllable and then finally the third. I gestured for him to say it faster.
'Gabri . . . elle.'
'Yes, that's my name.'
Henry beamed, enjoying the success. Then, timidly, he put his hand on my stomach again. The baby was much quieter. Henry looked disappointed.
'He's sleeping,' I said, and laid my head on my shoulder and closed my eyes. Henry lifted his hand away, but stared at me sweetly. I smiled at him and he smiled back. Then he stood up slowly as if he saw something in the air. He walked with exaggerated steps, like a hunter sneaking up on prey. He snatched the invisible air and brought his hand to his nose, taking in a delightful whiff. I laughed and he bowed, put his hands behind his back, stepped before me, and then voila . . . he held out a tiny magnolia blossom.
The astonishment on my face filled him with delight. I assumed, of course, that he had been keeping it under his shirt, but it was such a wonderful surprise, I couldn't keep the tears from filling my eyes.
'Thank you,' I said. 'And thank you for the hyacinth you left last night.'
He bowed and looked toward the window.
'You have to go back to work?' I mimed the raking of leaves, pruning of hedges, and he nodded. I held out my hand for him to shake. 'Good-bye,' I said. 'Thank you.'
He held my hand for a moment and then went to the window. 'Be careful,' I said. He smiled and then slipped out the window and over the railing, scampering down the gutter pipe like a squirrel. I glanced out the window and saw him hurrying around the corner of the house. Like a dream, he was gone, but my magnolia blossom smelled delicious and wonderful. It filled me with pleasing memories and allowed me to close my eyes and put myself back in the bayou, free to enjoy the world I loved, at least for a few moments.
That night, right after I had my dinner, I had my first bad fright. I hadn't been sleeping well these last weeks as it was. The baby was so active. When I woke each morning now, I felt as if I had been dragged through the swamp
