She screamed, too, and the cook came charging out the back door, followed by Gladys Tate.
I was too amazed to retreat quickly enough, so when the nanny started to explain and point, Gladys focused in my direction, her face filled more with disgust about me than the snake. The cook went around the sandbox and killed the snake with a metal rake. Gladys ordered the nanny to take Paul into the house. I turned and ran through the woods, my heart pounding all the way to my pirogue. I never poled up the canal as quickly to get home.
I was afraid to tell Mama what I had done and what I had been doing. Lucky for me, she was busy with a customer for her linens, so I was able to sneak by and go into the house and up to my room. When twilight fell, Mama called.
'You all right?' she asked after I appeared on the stairway.
'Yes, Mama. Just resting.'
'Well, I'm not preparing anything new for dinner. We'll eat the crawfish etouffee. Your daddy sent word he won't be home for dinner. Claims he has work to do, but I know he'll be playing cards in some garage or barn and losing a week's wages.'
She was so distracted about Daddy, she didn't notice anything in my face, but we no sooner had sat down to eat when we heard an automobile pull up to the front of the house. Whoever it was started to honk his horn and wouldn't stop until we appeared in the doorway. My heart sunk. I recognized the expensive, big Cadillac.
'Who is that?' Mama wondered, and then her squint changed to wide eyes and her face filled with annoyance. 'What does that woman want?'
Gladys Tate got out of her automobile and strutted toward our shack with her familiar arrogant gait. I stood a few inches behind Mama, my heart thumping so hard, I was sure Mama could feel the pounding, too. Gladys looked taller in her black cape. She had her hair down. As she drew closer, she glared up at me with her cold brown eyes shooting hateful sparks. A white line was etched above her tightened lips.
'How can I help you?' Mama asked.
'I'll tell you how you can help me. You can keep your daughter off my property and away from my baby. That's how you can help me,' she replied.
'Property?' Mama turned to look at me.
'That's right. She was there today, spying on my family, hiding herself in the bushes.'
'Is this true, Gabrielle?' Mama asked. 'You were at the Tates'?'
'Yes, Mama, but I wasn't spying on her family. I was just . . .'
'Just what then?' Gladys demanded, her hands on her hips. She looked like a giant hawk about to pounce.
'Just watching baby Paul. I wanted to see how he plays. That's all.'
'Oh, Gabrielle,' Mama said, shaking her head and fixing her eyes of pity on me.
'Everywhere I go, in town, to church, stores, every time I turn, I see her gaping at us. I won't have it, I tell you,' Gladys said, her voice coming almost like the hiss of a venomous snake. It reminded me of what happened.
'If I wasn't there today, Paul might have been bitten by a cottonmouth. Go on, tell it all,' I said with defiance. 'Tell Mama how your nanny doesn't pay attention to the baby.'
'That's none of your affair,' Gladys replied, but a lot less firmly.
'The baby was almost bitten by a cottonmouth?' Mama asked.
'She exaggerates. There was a snake in the yard. My girl had plenty of time to protect the baby. Besides, it's none of her business,' Gladys insisted. 'We paid to keep you away and I intend to see that the deal is kept. The next time your wild daughter is seen on my property, I'll have her arrested, do you understand? And if she continues to follow us around wherever we go, I'll go see a judge and get a court order that will slap the lot of you into jail.'
'I don't follow you around,' I moaned.
'You've got nothing else to do with your meaningless life than seduce grown men and then follow their wives around,' Gladys continued. 'You should be in a convent, away from good and decent people.'
'That's quite enough,' Mama said. 'You've made your point. Gabrielle will never again set foot on your property, and if she sees you people in town or in church, she will look the other way.'
'That's more like it. If you kept a tighter grip on her in the first place, we all might not be in this situation,' Gladys added, her face flushed with satisfaction.
'I think you have it all a bit muddled,' Mama said softly. 'If you had given your husband the loving home a wife should provide her man, he might not have wandered into the swamp to rape my daughter.'
'What?' She raised her shoulders. 'If that's not the pot calling the kettle black . . . Why, your husband is probably the worst degenerate in the bayou.'
'At least he doesn't pretend to be a saint and put on false faces in church,' Mama retorted.
Gladys Tate's face reddened. She pressed her lips together and then lifted her right arm slowly to point her long, thin forefinger at me, the fingernail a silver shade.
'Keep her away or else,' she warned, pivoted, and marched back to her car.
I couldn't swallow. I felt numb and incapable of movement. It was as if my feet had been nailed to the galerie floorboards. We watched her churn the lawn with her tires and then spin out and away.
