It had been a long, emotional night. Now that I was lying down, my body felt as if it would sink into the mattress. I tried to stay awake to listen for footsteps or the sound of my mother's voice, but before I knew it, I was in a deep sleep.
I sank into dreams filled with the faces of people I had met in the bayou. I imagined the people in the shack who gave me directions, and I dreamed they were outside. They had followed me to Cypress Woods and were muttering to themselves in the shadows. They drew closer and closer and entered the house. They were all coming up the stairs, the woman with the rolling pin arms leading them and the children all following behind. I saw them enter the bedroom and sensed them around me. Their eyes were big, and their faces were liquid, changing from round to oval to round again.
And then I felt a hand on my cheek. It was too real to be in a dream, but I couldn't open my eyes. I moaned and struggled against the invisible bonds that bound me. I tried to open my mouth, but my jaw was locked. I gagged on my tongue and exerted all my strength to get my mouth open. Finally my lips parted and I screamed.
Jack was at my side in moments. I sat up and threw my arms around him.
"What happened? What's wrong? Pearl?" He held me tightly, and I locked my arms over his strong, secure shoulders.
"Just hold me," I pleaded. "Just hold me."
"It's all right," he said, gently brushing my hair, first with his hand and then with his lips. "You're safe. It's all right."
I tried to swallow. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure Jack felt the thump in his chest, too.
"You poor girl," he said. "Damn this bad luck. Damn it."
His lips moved to my forehead. I closed my eyes, welcoming the warm affection and comfort, bathing in his touch. He continued to kiss me, moving his lips down to my closed eyes and then my lips. I didn't resist. We kissed long, but gently. And then he pulled back.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean . . ."
"It's all right," I said and sighed as he eased his embrace. I lay back.
"What happened?" he asked.
"I felt a hand on my cheek."
"Just a dream, I suppose. I was having nightmares myself," he added. He held my hand. "You all right now?"
"Yes, thank you."
"I don't want you to think I was taking advantage of you or anything. I . ."
"I'm glad you kissed me, Jack."
"You are?"
"Yes. It was very comforting."
"Good," he said. "Well . . . should we try to sleep again?"
"I'm sorry. I know you have to get up early and work."
"I'll be fine," he said. He stared down at me a moment longer and then started to rise, but hesitated, turned, and leaned down to kiss me again. "Just to be sure," he whispered. I saw his small smile and felt the warmest tingle travel through my breasts to my heart.
I actually was sorry when he rose and returned to the settee. I heard him settle in, and then I turned to look at him. For a moment we just stared at each other through the dim light of the kerosene lamp.
"Night," he whispered.
"Good night."
I turned over and thought for a moment before I realized why I was suddenly anxious. I patted the bed and searched with my hand.
Jack heard me moving about. "What is it, Pearl?"
"Jack," I said. "The mojo."
"What about it?"
"It's gone!"
12
Hatred Is as Slow as Poison
If Mommy was in the house during the night, she was gone or well hidden by morning. Jack and I searched the studio, the kitchen, and even the pantries more vigorously than we had the first time, but there was no sign of her, and she didn't respond to my continuous calling and pleading for her to show herself.
"She's just not here," Jack finally said. "She must have gone someplace else during the night. Do you have any other ideas where she might go?"
"The only people I know are my aunt Jeanne and uncle James. My mother likes Aunt Jeanne. They've stayed in touch all these years."
"Maybe she finally went there, then. We can call them," Jack suggested.
"I'll just go see them," I said. "But I do want to call Daddy first."
"And you should eat some breakfast. You're running on an empty tank."
"I'll go into town and—"
"No, you won't. Let's go to the trailer," he insisted.
Most of the other riggers had already arrived by the time we drove over to the trailer. Heads spun and eyes widened when we got out of my car.
"Pick up a new helper, Jack?" someone shouted, and the others laughed.
"Just ignore them," Jack mumbled, keeping his eyes straight ahead and his head stiff.
When we entered the trailer, Bart LaCroix, the foreman, looked up from the small kitchen table where he was having coffee and a cruller. There was another rigger with him, a man about his age, only taller with a full head of dark brown curly hair.
"What's this?" Bart asked, surprised to see me.
"Mademoiselle Andreas has returned to continue her search for her mother," Jack explained. "It looks as if her mother was here during the night."
"Don't say. During the night? This ain't a place to be wandering around during the night."
"No one's wandering around," Jack retorted.
Bart grunted, gulped some coffee, and gobbled the rest of his cruller. "Billy says we're having a problem with the pump jack on thirty-three. Stop by and give it a look-see, hear?"
"Right. How about some coffee, Pearl?" Jack asked.
"Thank you," I said. The taller man stood up and pulled a chair away from the table for me. "Thank you."
"Your father here, too?" Bart asked.
"No, monsieur."
Bart raised his eyebrows and then looked at the other man, who stood waiting for an introduction. "Oh, Lefty, this here is Mademoiselle Andreas. Pearl. Number twenty-two."
"Number twenty-two? Oh," Lefty said, impressed. I sat down.
"How about a cruller?" Bart offered. "Picked 'em up fresh on the way in today. We got a pretty good baker here. Bet he compares favorably with your Café du Monde."
"Thank you," I said and tried one. I smiled and nodded. "He does compare favorably," I said.
"Well, we better get shaking, Lefty. We got oil to pump," he said eyeing Jack, who pretended not to hear as he poured thick, black Cajun coffee. Bart and Lefty put on their helmets and left the trailer.
"You like a little cream with that?" Jack asked nodding at my cup.
"Please. I didn't mean to cause you any embarrassment with your fellow workers," I said.
"Don't think a second time about it," he said firmly. "Most of them are just jealous. I can make you eggs, if you like."
"This is fine for now," I said. "It really is a good cruller."
"How about some orange juice or cereal? I got some cornflakes, I think."
"I'm fine, Jack. Really. Just sit down and drink your own coffee. I don't want to keep you from going to work one more minute," I said.
He smiled and sat down. "Coffee's pretty strong, I know. The men like it that way. Bart says it keeps the hair off his tongue. He used to work with my father," he explained. "He might sound and look gruff, but he's a pussycat. Thinks he has to look .after me."
"It's nice having someone who cares about you," I said, which reminded me of what I had to do. "I have to call my father."
"Go on. Use the phone right there." Jack pointed.
Aubrey answered on the first ring, which immediately sent a chill up my spine. It was as if he'd been waiting right there for my call.
"Monsieur Andreas is asleep, mademoiselle," he said a low voice, obviously not wanting the other servants to overhear his conversation. "He had a slight accident late last night."
"What sort of accident, Aubrey? What happened?" Had Daddy come after me and cracked up his car in that torrential downpour?