"I wish you wouldn't do this, Mama."
"Let's not start that again. It's my time in the sun and it should be your father's time, too."
"Has he been home?"
"Not that I know," she replied, and dove into her labor of love to keep from thinking and being angry. Seeing I was not going to change her mind, I offered to help, but she refused to permit it.
"It's your party. You earned it; you just enjoy yourself," she insisted. I couldn't stand by and watch her work, so I went out to our dock and sat with my feet dangling in the water, watching and hoping for the sight of Daddy poling his pirogue up the canal to home. But he never came. At dinner Mama was mumbling to herself something awful.
"That man has gone bad, gone sour like warm milk. Nothing's going to change him. He'll be the death of all of us. Truth is, I hope he never comes home," she declared, but I knew she was heartbroken about it. She sat on the gallery in her rocker after dinner and glared at the darkness, waiting for one of those shadows to take Daddy's form.
I put the finishing touches on my graduation dress and put it on to show Mama. She shook her head and smiled.
"You're so beautiful, Gabriel, it makes my heart pound."
"Oh, Mama, I'm not. And besides, you told me dozens of times that pride's a sin."
"You don't have to go overboard and fall in love with yourself, but you can be thankful and happy you've been blessed with such natural beauty. You don't understand," she added when I looked down and blushed. "You're my redemption. When I look at you, at least I can feel something good came out of my marriage to that scoundrel we call your daddy."
I looked up sharply. "He tries to be good, doesn't he, Mama? He thinks about it."
"The most I can say for him, honey, is it's beyond him. It's in his blood. The Landrys were probably first cousins to Cain." She sighed. "I got no one to blame but myself for the pot I'm boiling in," she said.
"But if the Landry blood is so powerful and evil, won't I be evil, too, Mama?" I asked fearfully.
"No," she said quickly. "You got my blood in you, too, don'tcha?"
"Yes, Mama."
"Well, my blood overpowers even the wicked Landry blood." She took my hand into hers and drew me closer so her eyes could look deeply into mine. "When evil thoughts come to mind, you think of me, honey, and my blood will come rushing over those thoughts, drowning them. If it don't . . ."
"Yes, Mama?"
"Then maybe what you're thinking ain't so evil after all," she said. Then she took a deep breath as if the advice had drained her of the little energy that remained after so hard a day of cooking and baking. She also did a lot of cleaning around the shack so it would look as presentable as possible to our guests tomorrow.
"You're tired, Mama. You should go to sleep."
"Oui. I should," she admitted. She sighed, gazed into the darkness for a moment, her gaze sliding over the shadows in search of Daddy, and then she rose with great effort. We went into the shack together and upstairs.
"Tonight's the last night you go to bed a little girl," Mama told me after I got into bed. She sat at my feet for a few moments. "Tomorrow you graduate. You're a young woman now." She started to hum a Cajun lullaby, one she used to sing to me when I was a little girl.
"Mama?"
"Yes, honey."
"Before you met Daddy, did you have any other boyfriends?"
"I had a number of young men on my tail," she said, smiling. "My father would shoo them away like flies."
"But . . . did any of them become your boyfriend?"
"Oh, I had my little romances."
"Did you . . ."
"Did I what, honey?" ,
"Did you kiss and do things with the other boys?"