Dumas residence, I could only stand and gape
stupidly. Its out-buildings, gardens, and stables
occupied most of this block. All of it was surrounded
by a fence in cornstalk pattern.
This was my real father's home, but the ivory
white mansion that loomed before me looked more like a house built for a Greek god. It was a two-story building with tall columns, the tops of which were shaped like inverted bells decorated with leaves. There were two galeries, an enormous one before the main entrance and another above it. Each had a different decorative cast iron railing, the one on the bottom showing flowers and the one above, showing
fruits.
I strolled along the walk, circling the house and
grounds. I saw the pool and the tennis court and
continued to gape in awe. There was something
magical here. It seemed as if I had entered my
dreamland of eternal spring. Two gray squirrels
paused in their foray for food and stared out at me,
more curious than afraid. The air smelled of green
bamboo and gardenias. Blooming azaleas, yellow and
red roses, and hibiscus were everywhere in view. The
trellises and the gazebo were covered with trumpet
vine and clumps of purple wisteria. Redwood boxes
on railings and sills were thick with petunias. Right now the house was lit up, all of its
windows bright. Slowly, I made a full circle and then
paused at the front gate; but as I stood there gaping,
drinking in the elegance and grandeur, I began to
wonder what I could have been thinking to have traveled this far and come to this house. Surely the people who lived within such a mansion were so different from me, I might as well have gone to another country where people spoke a different language. My heart sank. A throbbing pain in my head stabbed sharply. What was I doing here, me, a nobody, an orphan Cajun girl who had deluded herself into believing there was a rainbow just waiting for me at the end of my storm of trouble? I knew now that I would have to find my way back to the bus station and
return to Houma.
Dejected, my head lowered, I turned from the
house and started to walk away when suddenly,
seemingly coming from out of the thin air, a small,
fire engine red, convertible sports car squeaked to an
abrupt stop right in front of me. The driver hopped
over the door. He was a tall young man with a shock