it's cozy.'
'But how did you do this without anyone knowing?'
'There are ways when you spend enough,' he replied with a wink.
'But why?'
'Why? Just to be close to you whenever I want to be and when, I hope, you want me to be,' he said. He took my hand. Feeling swept along, I could only follow him up the path to the shack. It was never anything when the Daisys lived in it, but it had fallen into some ruin after John Daisy's death. Pierre had had the floorboards repaired, the holes mended, the windows recovered, the tin roof restored, and the furniture replaced. He had a new rug in the sitting room.
'I brought that in from New Orleans myself,' he said, nodding at the rug. 'The shack has none of the modern conveniences, but I think that's what gives it all it's charm, don't you?' he said as I wandered through it. 'The lamps have oil; there's something to eat and drink and the bed has new linens. What else could we ask for?' he said, and opened a cabinet in the kitchen to take out some glasses and then some wine from a cool chest he had filled with ice.
'I can't believe you did this,' I said.
'I'm a man of action,' he replied, laughing. He uncorked the wine and poured two glasses. 'Let's make a toast,' he said, handing me my glass. 'To our dream house in our dream world. I hope I never wake up.' He tapped my glass and brought his to his lips. After a moment I sipped my wine, too. 'So? What do you think?'
'I think you're a madman,' I said.
'Good. I'm tired of being Pierre Dumas, the sensible, brilliant, respected businessman. I want to feel young and alive again, and you make me feel that way, Gabrielle. You wipe the cobwebs out of my brain and drive the shadows from my heart. You are all sunshine and cool, clear water.
'Didn't you think constantly of me these past weeks? Didn't you want me to return? Please, tell me the truth. I need to hear it.'
I hesitated.
In the back of my mind I heard Mama's voice, I heard all the warnings. I saw myself heading toward a precipice, in danger of a great fall. All that was sensible and logical in me told me to leave, and as quickly as possible; but my feet were nailed to the floor by a love that rippled through my body as firmly as he claimed his did.
'I thought of nothing else,' I admitted. 'I, too, saw your face everywhere, heard your voice in every sound. Every day you didn't return was an empty day, no matter how much work I filled it with,' I said. His face brightened.
'Gabrielle . . . I love you,' he said, and took me into his arms. Then he scooped me up and carried me to the bedroom that would be our love nest.
After what Octavious Tate had done to me and what Virgil Atkins had said to me, I thought I would never taste love on my lips nor ever know what a soft, gentle caress of affection was like. I thought I would die resembling a wild rose, never seen, never smelled, never touched, a flower that would be kissed by the sun and the rain until it bloomed radiantly, but then would eventually wither and decompose, its petals floating sadly to the earth, its stem bending until the next rain pounded it into dust to be forgotten, to be treated as if it had never existed.
But in Pierre's arms, I felt myself blossoming, exploding with color and vibrancy. His kind and tender touch filled my heart with a warmth I never dreamed I'd feel. Nothing was rushed; nothing was grotesque. When we were naked beside each other, we were silent, speaking only with our eyes and our lips. His fingers made secret places on my body tingle, places I never imagined would ever feel as alive. I closed my eyes and clung to him when he moved over my breasts with his lips and touched me with the tip of his tongue. I felt as if I were falling, but as long as I held on to him tightly, I would be safe, forever.
He didn't rush to put his manliness inside me. It was as if he knew what I had experienced under the gritty, violent pawing of Octavious Tate, as if he knew I had to be brought back to a virgin state first and then, gently, affectionately, lovingly, taken on that ride young women dream about from the first day they realize what can happen between them and some loving man. It all happened now the way it was meant to happen. That horrible violation of me was erased with every tender caress, every word of love whispered.
When we coupled on the bed, we paused and gazed for a long moment into each other's eyes. It was then that I realized the act of love could be the ultimate confirmation of our deepest feelings for each other. We weren't taking from each other as much as we were giving to each other. I could hear Pierre's thoughts, hear his plea: 'Come with me, soar with me, for these precious moments forget everything but us. We are the world to each other; we are the sun for each other; we are the stars.'
It was wonderful to surrender myself completely and feel him submerge his identity completely into me. We were, as the poets say, one.
Afterward we lay beside each other, tingling, still touching each other with our lips as well as our fingers.
'This is our secret place,' Pierre said. 'No one must know. I will come to you as often, as many times, as I can for as long as I am able,' he promised.
'But how, Pierre? You are married.'
'My wife and I live separate lives right now. She is content being the queen of the block, one of New Orleans's royalty, a princess of the city. Her friends are not my friends. I do not enjoy the affairs she attends and the people with whom she surrounds herself. They are all . . . fops, dandies, artificial men and women who lie to each other and to themselves continually and then whisper behind each other's backs. But Daphne enjoys the games, enjoys being the center of things, being kowtowed to and catered to and treated like the blue blood she believes she is.'
'But, Pierre;is it not sinful what we are doing?' I couldn't help thinking about Mama now and all her warnings. 'Tell me that love makes this all right,' I moaned, the tears burning beneath my eyelids.
'Shh.' He put his finger on my lips and then kissed the tip of my nose and smiled. 'Yes, darling Gabrielle. Love does make this all right, especially a true love, for love like ours must be divinely inspired, blessed. It's too wonderful to be created by the devil and it's too pure. I love you without lust, but with affection; I love you without selfishness, but with only the hope to make you happy.'
