Tarnished Gold

'And how.'

He laughed.

'I have a small pirogue down here, monsieur, just big enough for two people. Do you want to see a little more?'

'Very much, merci.'

I pulled my canoe out from the bushes and Pierre got in. 'You want me to do the poling?'

'No, monsieur,' I said. 'You are the tourist.'

He laughed and watched me push off and then pole into the current.

'I can see you know what you're doing.'

'I've done it so long, monsieur, I don't think about it. But surely you go sailing, n'est-ce pas? You have Lake Pontchartrain. I saw it when I was just a little girl and it looked as big as the ocean.'

He turned away and gazed into the water without replying for a moment. I saw his happy, contented expression evaporate and quickly be replaced with a look of deep melancholy.

'I did do some sailing,' he finally said, 'but my brother was recently in a terrible sailing accident.'

'Oh, I'm sorry, monsieur.'

'The mast struck him in the temple during a storm and he went into a coma for a long time. He was quite an athletic man and now he's . . . like a vegetable.'

'How sad, monsieur.'

'Yes. I haven't gone sailing since. My father was devastated by it all, of course. That's why I do whatever I can to please him. But my brother was more of the hunter and the fisherman. Now that my brother is incapacitated, my father is trying to get me to become more like him, but I'm failing miserably, I'm afraid.' He smiled. 'Sorry to lay the heavy weight of my personal troubles on your graceful, small shoulders.'

'It's all right, monsieur. Quick,' I said, pointing to the right to help break him from his deeply melancholy mood, 'look at the giant turtle.'

'Where?' He stared and stared and then finally smiled. 'How do you see these animals like that?'

'You learn to spot the changes in the water, the shades of color, every movement.'

'I admire you. Despite this backwoods world in which you live, you do appear to be very content.'

I poled alongside a sandbar with its sun-dried top and turned toward a canopy of cypress that was so thick over the water, it blocked out the sun. I showed Pierre a bed of honeysuckle and pointed out two white-tailed deer grazing near the water. We saw flocks of rice birds, and a pair of herons, more alligators and turtles. In my secret places, ducks floated alongside geese, the moss was thicker, the flowers plush.

'Does your father take hunters here?' Pierre asked. 'No, monsieur.' I smiled. 'My father does not know these places, and I won't be telling him about them either.' Pierre's laughter rolled over the water and a pair of scarlet cardinals shot out of the bushes and over our heads. On the far shore, a grosbeaked heron strutted proudly, taking only a second to look our way.

'It is very beautiful here, mademoiselle. I can understand your reluctance to live anywhere else. Actually, I envy you for the peace and contentment. I am a rich man; I live in a big house filled with beautiful, expensive things, but somehow, I think you are happier living in your swamp, in what you call your toothpick-legged shack.'

'Mama often says it's not what you have, it's what has you,' I told him, and he smiled, those green eyes brightening.

'She does sound like a woman who can draw from a pool of great wisdom.'

'And what of your mother, monsieur?'

'She passed away a little over a year ago.'

'Oh. I'm sorry.'

'She developed heart trouble soon after my brother Jean's accident, and eventually . . .' He leaned over the pirogue, his hand trailing in the water. Suddenly he pulled it up and sat back. A green snake slithered past. 'A moment ago that was a stick. This place is full of all sorts of magic.'

I laughed.

'Just Nature's magic. Swamp creatures blend in with their surroundings to survive. Mama says that's true for people, too. If we don't like where we live, if we hate where we are, we will fade away there.'

He nodded. 'I'm afraid that might be happening to me,' he said sadly, and sighed.

I was gazing at him so intently, I didn't pay attention to the direction in which my pirogue was going. We struck a large rock protruding out of the water and the impact caught me off balance. I fell over the side of the canoe and into the water, more surprised than frightened. When I bobbed to the surface, I was again surprised, this time to find Pierre Dumas in the water beside me. He put his arm around my waist to keep me afloat.

'Are you all right?'

I spit out the water, coughed, and nodded. He and I took hold of the side of the pirogue. He got up first and then helped me into the canoe. I caught my breath quickly, but I was still a bit dazed. Of course, we were both soaked to the skin.

'Oh, I'm so sorry, monsieur,' I wailed. 'Your fine clothes are ruined.'

'Hardly, and it wouldn't matter if they were. Are you all right?'

'I'm fine, but quite embarrassed. This has never before happened to me.'