Page List


Font:  

"Now you come home, Jack," Mama began. "After the storm, after we done all the work, man's work?"

"This house can blow itself down to hell, for all I care," he said. "It don't matter no more."

"Is that right?" Mama began, her eyes blazing despite the film of fatigue that had settled over them. "My house don't matter no more, you say?"

"Now, just hold on, Catherine," he said, raising his hands. "Sit yourself back in that chair, hear, and behave yourself. Otherwise," he said with a wide, silly grin, "I might just not tell you what I done and what's going to be."

"I'm probably better off not hearing it if it's something you've done," Mama mumbled.

"That so? See?" he said to me. "See how she's always smart-talking me all the time, putting me down, making me look bad to my friends and neighbors?"

Mama started to laugh. "Me? No one has to work at making you look bad, Jack. You do that the best."

Daddy's smile faded. He stared at her for a moment and then he took on the most self-satisfied leer I had seen on his face. He dug into his pants pocket and came up with a fistful of money, and planted it on the center of the table. As the bills unfolded, we saw they were fifties and hundreds. It was the first time I had ever seen a hundred-dollar bill.

"What's that?" Mama asked suspiciously.

"What's it look like, woman? That there's good old U.S. currency, and that pile there is for you to do with what you please, hear?"

Mama glanced at me before looking up at Daddy again. "And where's it come from, a bourre pot filled with money folks can't afford to lose?"

"Nope. It comes from here," Daddy said, poking his right temple with his right forefinger. "It comes from being smart."

"Is that so? Well, this I gotta hear," Mama said, and sat back, her arms folded under her bosom.

Daddy went over to the cupboard, found himself some cider, and poured himself a glass first. We watched him gulp it down, his Adam's app

le bobbing. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and glared at me.

"She may know the swamp and the animals better than most around these parts," he said, nodding at me, "but she don't know nothin' when it comes to men."

"Never mind Gabriel, Jack. We're talking about you now and what you done to get this money."

"Right. I think to myself, Jack Landry, why is it you've been the one left holding the hot potato here, huh? Why is it you got to be the one to figure out what else to do to feed another mouth, make a home, bear the brunt of insults, huh? Why is it those rich people can come in here and use us the way they want, use us like a. . a towel and then throw us away, huh? Well, they can't, is what I say!" he exclaimed, pounding the sink top with his fist.

"Most men in these here parts don't know their right from their left when it comes to going someplace other than the bayou. Once you take them out of the swamp, they're confused, stupid fools. But I ain't no swamp rat, hear? I'm Jack Landry. My greatgrandpere worked the riverboats, and my mere's greatgrandpere was one of the best gamblers this side of the Mississippi," he boasted. "It's true, he was hanged, but that was a mistake."

"All right, Jack. I know how wonderful your ancestors were. Get on with it," Mama demanded.

"Yeah. You know. You know everything, don'tcha, Catherine Landry? Anyways, I upped and took myself to New Orleans."

"What?" I said with a gasp.

"That's right," he said, his eyes blazing.

"What were you doing in New Orleans, Jack?" Mama asked.

"I found out where those Dumas men live and I paid 'em a little visit. Turns out the old man is not really unhappy with what I come to tell him either," Daddy said, nodding.

Mama stared, astounded. She looked at me and then she leaned forward.

"What did you tell him, Jack?"

"I told him about Gabriel here and the condition his son put her into," he said, standing proud. "That's what I told him, and I didn't spare no words, neither. I told him about the shack and the way he done seduced my little girl."

"He did not!" I cried.

"Hush a moment," Mama said, her eyes brighter, her face flushed. "Go on, Jack. What else did you tell him?"


Tags: V.C. Andrews Landry Horror