"Can't trust you city folk."
I laughed.
It was a very sunny morning without the usual haze. Everything looked brighter, cleaner, and the air was filled with the scent of flowers and bamboo. We could hear the city coming to life, the streetcar rattling, cars honking horns, someone shouting down the street, and lawn mowers and blowers being started.
"I'll see you before I start college, won't I?"
"Absolutely," he said. "Besides, you should visit your well more often, get to know her. And bring Pierre."
"I will."
We kissed.
"Safe trip," I said putting my finger on his beautiful lips and drinking in the softness in his eyes. "I'll miss you."
"Me too." He got into his truck. "I hope I don't get lost in these city streets," he complained.
"A man who can find his way around those swamp canals shouldn't have any trouble navigating the streets of New Orleans," I said.
Jack laughed. Then he put on a serious expression and gazed at me.
"I don't know if I have a right to love you, but I sure think I do," he said.
"You have more than a right, Jack Clovis. You have an obligation. You better love me."
He flashed that wonderful smile, the smile that would have to last me for some time, and then drove away.
I started to cry, but then drew back my tears and took a deep breath. I had to be strong for Mommy and Daddy. We had a long road ahead with many steep hills to climb and many sharp turns.
Two days later we brought Pierre home from the hospital. He was shaky, but he wanted to walk. I held his hand and guided him. He wanted to go out to the gardens. I knew why. He wanted to look at the tree house he and Jean and Daddy had built long ago. The doctors thought he should get as much air as he could. They said it would make him tired, at least for the first week or so. It did. He fell asleep in his chair after lunch, and I carried him up to his room.
But he was outside every morning. I spent a great deal of time with him, reading to him, playing board games, answering his questions about his illness. He went to therapy once a week and had a good checkup from Dr. Lasky, who was impressed with Pierre's physical recuperation. "The mind is far more powerful than we can imagine," he told Mommy. She was the one person in the world he didn't have to tell.
Epilogue
.
Two weeks after Pierre came home, Mommy
decided to visit Jean's grave again. I went with her. She set out some flowers and stood gazing at the tomb, a small smile on her face as she recalled his antics and the way he threw his arms around her when he was frightened or sick or just wanted her love. But I knew why she wanted to go there. It wasn't just to remember. It was to say thanks, for she believed in her heart that it was Jean's spirit that had turned Pierre around and sent him back to us.
When Pierre was strong enough to make the trip, we went to visit Jack at Cypress Woods. Jack spent a great deal of time with him, showing him the machinery, explaining how everything worked. Daddy and Mommy walked around the neglected grounds and the house, and then we all went for lunch in Houma and ate crawfish etouffee.
A few weeks later I began my college orientation. Pierre was strong enough to return to school in September, although he was still seeing a therapist once a week. He was having a hard time adjusting to life without Jean at his side. Often I would find him off by himself, and I knew he was talking to Jean. Finally, Dr. Lefevre decided it would be good for Pierre to visit Jean's grave.
At first he resisted. I talked to him for a long time about it until he finally relented, and we all went to the cemetery with him. He just stared at the tomb and read Jean's name over and over. He was very quiet for the rest of that day, but I did see a change in him in the weeks that followed. He became more outgoing, was willing to have friends over and to visit with them. He grew taller and leaner a
nd continued to be a very good student.
The summer never seemed to end that year. It was hot and humid right into the first week of December. Jack came to see me at college, but he was uncomfortable on the campus and was happier at the house or visiting the sights. Pierre loved him and was never so happy as when Jack visited us or we went to visit him in the bayou.
Late that spring, just after April Fool's Day, Aunt Jeanne called to tell Mommy that Gladys Tate had died. She said the family was thinking of restoring Cypress Woods.
"Paul would like that," Mommy told her. "He was very proud of that house."
"I know Pearl visits from time to time," Aunt Jeanne said. "Maybe you could come along sometime, and we could spend some time there. I'd like to hear your suggestions for fixing the place up."
Mommy told her she would think about it. She related the conversation to us at dinner.