and the still water glisten like glass. On a night like this, sounds traveled over the bayou quickly and easily. We could hear the happy tunes coming from Mr. Bute's accordion and the laughter of his wife and children, all gathered on their front galerie.
Somewhere, way in the distance down left toward town, a car horn blared, while behind us, the frogs croaked in the swamp. I had not told Grandmere Catherine that Paul was coming, but she sensed it.
"You look like you're sitting on pins and needles tonight, Ruby. Waiting for something?"
Before I could reply, we heard the soft growl of Paul's motor scooter.
"No need to answer," Grandmere said. Moments later, we saw the small light on his motor scooter, and Paul rode into our front yard.
"Good evening, Mrs. Landry, They said, walking up to us. "Hi, Ruby."
"Hello," Grandmere Catherine said, eying him cautiously.
"We have a little relief from the heat and humidity tonight," he said, and she nodded. "How was your day?" he asked me.
"Wonderful! I sold all five of my paintings," I declared quickly.
"All of them? That is wonderful. We'll have to celebrate with two ice cream sodas instead of just crushed ice. If it's all right with you, Mrs. Landry, I'd like to take Ruby to town," he added, turning to Grandmere Catherine. I saw how his request troubled her. Her eyebrows rose and she leaned back in her rocker. Her hesitation made Paul add, "We won't be long."
"I don't want you to take her on that flimsy motor thing," Grandmere said, nodding toward the scooter. Paul laughed.
"I'd rather walk on a night like this anyway, wouldn't you, Ruby?"
"Yes. All right, Grandmere?"
"I suppose. But don't go anywhere but to town and back and don't talk to any strangers," she cautioned.
"Yes, Grandmere."
"Don't worry, I won't let anything happen to her," Paul assured Grandmere. Paul's assurance didn't make her look less anxious, but he and I started toward town, our way well lit by the moon. He didn't take my hand until we were out of sight.
"Your grandmere worries so much about you," Paul said. "She's seen a lot of sadness and hard times. But we had a good day at the stall."
"And you sold all your paintings. That's great."
"I didn't sell them so much as get them into a New Orleans gallery," I said, and told him everything that had happened and what Dominique LeGrand had said.
Paul was silent for a long moment. Then he turned to me, his face strangely sad. "Someday, you'll be a famous artist and move away from the bayou. You'll live in a big house in New Orleans, I'm sure," he predicted, "and forget all us Cajuns."
"Oh, Paul, how could you say such a horrible thing? I'd like to be a famous artist, of course; but I would never turn my back on my people and. . . and never forget you. Never," I insisted.
"You mean that, Ruby?"
I tossed my hair back over my shoulder and put my hand on my heart. Then, closing my eyes, I said, "I swear on Saint Medad. Besides," I continued, snapping my eyes open, "it will probably be you who leaves the bayou to go to some fancy college and meet wealthy girls."
"Oh, no," he protested. "I don't want to meet other girls. You're the only girl I care about."
"You say that now, Paul Marcus Tate, but time has a way of changing things. Look at my
grandparents. They were once in love."
"That's different. My father says no one could live with your grandfather."
"Once, Grandmere did," I said. "And then things changed, things she never expected."
"They won't change with me," Paul boasted. He paused and stepped closer to take my hand again. "Did you ask your grandmother about the fais dodo ?"
"Yes," I said. "Can you come to dinner tomorrow night? I think she should have a chance to get to know you better. Could you?"
He was quiet for a long moment.
"Your parents won't let you," I concluded.
"I'll be there," he said. "My parents are just going to have to get used to the idea of you and me," he added, and smiled. Our eyes remained firmly on each other and then he leaned toward me and we
Justine Dare Justine Davis