Everyone then volunteered to do something for me. One wanted to drive into Houma and buy me some new clothes. The others wanted to form a search party and traipse through the swamps searching for Mommy, but Jack explained why he didn't think that would do any good.
"Don't you worry, mademoiselle," they declared. "None of the Trahaws will ever set foot on this property again."
"You mean there are more of them?" I asked Jack.
"Cousins, but they don't live near here," he said, glaring angrily. I knew he was just trying to ease my fears.
"She'll be all right," he assured the other riggers. "Go on back to work." He came inside.
"I guess I had better think about going back to New Orleans before it gets too late, Jack."
"I hate to see you make that trip after what you've been through. Can't you stay one more night, rest up, and then go home? What difference will a few more hours make? You need some rest, Pearl. Just sprawl out on the sofa there and take a nap. I'll finish up what I have to do at the well and then make us a good dinner."
"I don't know. I should get home, Jack. Daddy needs me, and I've been away from Pierre too long."
"All right," he said after a moment's thought. "You'll rest and have dinner, and then I'll drive back to New Orleans with you. Bart can have Jimmy Wilson take over my work tomorrow. I'll catch a bus back."
"I can't ask you to do that for me, Jack," I protested.
"You're not asking. I'm telling you," he said. "You're in Cajun country now, and when a Cajun man speaks . . ."
"Yes?" I said, smiling.
"Sometimes a Cajun woman listens," he replied and we both laughed. The fatigue he'd predicted struck me. I yawned and fought to keep my eyes open.
"Just get over there and lie down for a while, hear?" he ordered.
"Yes, sir," I said, saluting. But I did what he said and sprawled on the sofa. I closed my eyes, vaguely listening to hint clean up the cups and dishes. Before he left the trailer to check on his work, I was asleep, and I didn't wake up again until long after he had returned, made dinner, and set the table for us. It was already quite dark outside. I was shocked at how long I had slept. Jack didn't know I was awake. He lit a candle and stood there for a moment gazing down at the small flame. The illumination threw a soft glow over his face, and when he turned, the candlelight was reflected in his eyes.
"Hey, how are you?" he asked.
"A little groggy. How long did I sleep?"
"A while," he said coming over to me. He sat beside me and took my hand.
"I guess you were right. I was a lot more tired than I thought."
"Hungry?"
I nodded. The aroma of the food churned my empty stomach.
"Good. Tonight I have a real Cajun feast: baked stuffed red snapper with brown oyster sauce," he bragged.
"How did you learn to be such a good cook?" I asked, amazed.
"What are you talking about? I'm a Cajun," he replied as if that explained it. "Don't you know people say Cajuns can eat anything they catch and make it taste good?"
"I've heard that said, yes. What can I do to help?"
"You can sit down and eat. Everything's done," he said. I got up, washed my face, and joined him at the table. He poured us some white wine, and then I ate ravenously again. Jack sat there watching me gobble down his delicious dinner, a small, tight smile on his lips.
"Jack Clovis," I said pausing between bites, "this is delicious. Did you really prepare all this?"
"Well . . ."
"I thought so," I said. "Where did you get it?"
"I picked it up at a restaurant," he confessed, "and just warmed it up. But I had you convinced, didn't I?"
"That's because I trusted you," I said.
He stopped smiling and reached for my hand. "If I ever tell you a lie, Pearl, I'll tell you the truth in the next breath, and I'll never tell you a lie that could hurt you," he promised.
"It's all right, Jack. I'm not angry. I'm too hungry," I said, and he laughed.
He put on some zydeco music, and we finished our dinner with rich Cajun coffee and strawberry shortcake. I was so stuffed I couldn't move, but I felt content and well rested.
"Now are you going to listen to me and stay overnight?" he asked.
The thought of the long ride back and in the dark was overwhelming. "I guess," I said. "But I'll have to leave right after I wake up."
"Deal," Jack declared.
"I'm helping with the dishes," I insisted.
"I'm not stopping you," he replied. I poked him in the shoulder and he pretended to poke me back. We giggled and hugged. It felt so good to be light and carefree after what I had experienced. Just being with Jack put me at ease. While I was washing and rinsing the dishes, he came up behind me and kissed me softly on the back of my neck. I paused and felt his arms around my waist. I leaned back against him, closed my eyes, and invited more of his kisses on my cheeks, my neck, and finally, when I turned to him, my lips.
"You can leave those dishes," he whispered and once again lifted me into his arms. He carried me through the trailer to his bedroom and set me down gently. It was dark, but the clouds had broken and the rain was long gone. Shards of moonlight sliced through the darkness and through the trailer window to illuminate our silhouettes. Quietly, neither of us saying a word, we undressed. Naked, beneath the blanket, we kissed again, and I felt myself slip softly, comfortably, perfectly into his embrace.
Jack was very gentle. His lips were as soft as feathers, trailing down to my stomach and then up to lift and caress my breasts again. My moans were small whimpers that accompanied my quickened breathing. Even after he entered me, our movements remained graceful and gentle, building slowly to each crescendo and then building on that crescendo to reach greater heights each time, taking my breath away. Soon I was spinning, but it was a pleasant vertigo, a light-headed feeling that made me giddy. I felt as if I were falling back, but I didn't feel endangered. It was a wonderful free fall, a flight through ecstasy.
Jack's whispered words of love filled my ears along with the pounding of my own heart. I couldn't stop myself from telling him how much I loved him, too. The flood of emotion that had been damned up behind my wall of skepticism and fear broke free, and the rush of passion that followed threatened to drown us both. I clung to him; I demanded more and returned his kisses with more intensity.
Once I had feared I could never be a lover, but Jack's surprised laughter and plea to let him catch his breath made me realize those fears were foolish. I was the lightning that needed the right marriage of elements to fire up the night sky, and the right elements were someone who really loved me and someone I really loved.
Finally he turned over on his back and cried, "Mercy!"
I laughed and we held hands and waited for our hearts to stop pounding and our breathing to slow down. Then he lifted my hand to his lips and kissed my fingers. He put my hand over his heart.
"Feel how content my heart is now," he said. "Feel how it beats for you."
"And mine too, Jack," I said bringing his hand to my breast. We lay beside each other quietly, astounded by how hard and how deeply we loved. I realized this was like the eye of the storm, the quiet that came in the midst of turmoil. Jack told me the hurricane was in me because I had been born in one. Maybe he was right. In the throes of all this disaster and tragedy, I had found him waiting to embrace me; I'd found his love, and with it I'd found the strength to battle the storm to follow.
I closed my eyes and drifted into a soft, pleasing sleep, but sometime in the night, as if I had been nudged, I woke. My eyelids fluttered. For a moment I had forgotten where I was. Then I heard Jack's soft breathing beside me, and I relaxed. Then I turned and gazed out the window that faced Cypress Woods. Immediately my heart began to pound, and I sprang up as if I had a coil in my spine.