"I don't think she's in the city anymore," I said. "I think we should go to the bayou."
Daddy laughed. "A lot of good that would do-- you and I, two city slickers trying to find someone in the swamps. If we have little hope of doing so here, where we are familiar with the territory, can you imagine how futile it would be for us to go out there? I wouldn't even know where to begin."
I thought for a moment, recalling Mommy's stories, and then looked up at him with bright, hopeful eyes. "We'll start at the shack," I said.
"Shack?"
"Her old shack, where she returned when she became pregnant with me. She believes in spirits; surely she hopes her grandmere Catherine's spirit will still be there, or even her mother's spirit."
Daddy said, "Let me look at the picture you said she painted."
We went to Mommy's studio, and he stood gazing thoughtfully at it for a while.
"What are you thinking, Daddy?"
"What was it that crazy old lady, Nina's sister, told us . . . that Ruby went to wherever the curse started. You might be right. In her mind that could very well mean the bayou. Especially when I look at this picture. I'll give Jeanne a call." He returned to his office to do so. I followed and waited at the door while he spoke to Uncle Paul's sister.
Aunt Jeanne hadn't heard about Jean's death. That news was devastating enough for her to digest. Then Daddy told her about Mommy's disappearance. I waited hopefully at his side, but it was clear from the rest of the conversation that she hadn't heard from or seen Mommy, nor had anyone she knew.
Daddy shook his head and cradled the receiver. "Well, we know she hasn't been to the bayou yet," he said and sat back.
"We should still go out there, Daddy."
"I don't know."
"It's better than just sitting here and staring at each other hopelessly. Please. Let's go there and search. She might have just arrived, or she could be somewhere the Tates wouldn't know about. They certainly don't go looking around the old shack."
He considered. "Okay," he said. "I suppose it's worth a try and you're right. Not doing anything but waiting for phones to ring is just eating away at both of us."
"I'll go up and tell Mrs. Hockingheimer and Pierre what we're doing so he won't miss us," I said.
"Good idea. I'll dig out my maps of the bayou. It's been a while since I drove there."
Having a strategy and something concrete to do put hope back into our hearts and renewed our energy. I hurried upstairs to change my clothes, and then I went to see Pierre.
"I was just about to go down to see you and Monsieur Andreas," Mrs. Hockingheimer said. "I don't like the way Pierre keeps drifting off, and now he's refusing to drink any water."
"Oh, Pierre," I said, sitting beside him on his bed and taking his hand into mine. His eyes remained fixed on the wall. "You can't do this to yourself any longer. You've got to get strong and well again. We need you to help with Mommy. Daddy and I are going to find her and bring her home to you, but you must eat and drink so you can be strong when she returns. Please," I begged. "Please try."
His blinking quickened, and he took a deep breath. I brushed back his hair. "Will you, try, Pierre? Will you?"
He didn't respond, but I thought there was more light and alertness in his eyes.
"We'll be gone most of the day, Mrs. Hockingheimer, but we'll phone you in a few hours."
"I'll ask the doctor to stop by later this afternoon," she promised.
"Fine."
"Good luck, my dear."
"Thank you." I gazed back at Pierre. His lips were moving, so I sat beside him again and brought my ear close to his mouth.
"Mommy . . . Mammy went to get Jean," he whispered.
His words put a block of ice in my chest where my heart should have been. For a moment I couldn't speak or swallow.
"Oh, Pierre honey," I moaned. I embraced him and kissed him and rocked back and forth with him. Then I wiped away my tears and rushed from the room, hoping with all my soul that we would find Mommy and bring her home where she belonged.