Read Online Landry 05 Tarnished Gold by V. C. Andrews - Free Book Online Page A

inconspicuous, they might be gentle with each other.
"Sure you're going to be all right without me, woman?" he asked her.
"Should be. I've had plenty of practice," she replied. Mama could be hard as stone when she felt the need to be.
"You don't let up on me," he complained. "I'm going off, won't see you for weeks. Cut me some slack, woman. Give me a chance to gulp some air before you push my head back underwater, hear?"
"I hear," she said, a tiny smile on her lips. Her eyes twinkled. His whining amused her. I don't know why he tried to put on false faces. Mama could read the truth through a mile-high pile of dead Spanish moss, but Daddy, especially, was a windowpane.
"Well," he said, sliding his boot over the gallery floor, "well . . ." He looked at me and then he leaned forward and pecked Mama's cheek like a chicken. "You take care. And you, Gabriel, you spend more time with your mama than with them animals, hear?"
"Yes, Daddy."
"Don't worry about me, Jack. Just don't drop the potato this time," she warned him.
"Aaa, what am I standing around here for? I got to go." He hurried off and got into the truck, waving once as he turned out of our yard and onto the road. I stood at Mama's side and waved after him.
"It seems unfair he has to go so far to find work, Mama."
"He don't find it. He was just lucky it came looking for him. If he was an ambitious man, he'd make his work for himself here, like most others do. But whoever whipped up the gumbo called Jack Landry left that ingredient out," she complained. "Let's go see if we can find a cool spot in the house."
The sun looked like a ball of rust behind the thin veil of a cloud. The cloud wasn't moving. I half expected to discover that the clock had stopped as well, the hands too exhausted with the effort to tell time in this heat.
"That's a good idea, Mama," I said. She stared at me at moment, tilting her head slightly to the right the way she often did when she was a little suspicious about something someone said or did.
"It's been nearly two weeks that you graduated and just about that long that summer came down with a wrath over us, yet you haven't gone off to your swimming hole, Gabriel. How come?"
"I don't know," I said quickly, too quickly. Mama screwed those scrutinizing eyes more tightly on me. "Something scare you out there, something you're not telling me, Gabriel? One of your loving animals didn't try to feast on you, did it?"
"No, Mama." I tried to laugh, but my face wouldn't crack a smile.
"I know you, Gabriel. I know when you've laughed and when you've cried. I know when you're so happy inside, your face becomes a second sun and when you're so sad, the clouds are in your eyes. I nursed and diapered you, fed you and cleaned your bottom. Don't keep no secret locked from me, honey. I got the keys and will find it one day anyway."
"I'm fine, Mama. Please," I bel :ed. I hated not being honest. Mama shook her head.
"It'll be only a matter of time," she predicted, but she relented and I was able to get her to talk about other things while we worked on items to sell at our roadside stand.
We had far more than we needed for our tourist booth, but we worked on hats, baskets, and wove blankets to have for sale as soon as summer ended and the tourists started flocking back to the bayou. Days passed, one day indistinguishable from the other, mostly. Every day after a week, Mama looked for the check from Daddy, but none arrived. She mumbled about it under her breath and went on to do other things, but I knew it was eating away at her like termites in a dead tree. She didn't have to say it, but we were dipping deeply into her stash.
And then one-afternoon, just about ten days after Daddy had left, a late-model automobile appeared in our yard and two tall, stout men, one with a thin scar across his chin and the other with what looked like a piece of his right ear missing, came stomping over our gallery to rap hard on the front door. I was in the living room thumbing through a copy