looked uncomfortable. "I really don't think I can." She looked at me like she wanted me to say something, like maybe we had someplace to go and I should check my watch and get her away from there.
Edith's eyes grew panicky. "You have three sisters, did you know that? I could show you their pictures." Pleading.
Jodi said, "I'm sorry. I have to get back to Los Angeles."
Edith shook her head and her face seemed to close and grow fearful. She said, "I didn't want to tell. I have cursed myself every day for it, but I just wasn't strong enough to save him." She put her face in her hands. "I want you to know that I would have kept you if I could. I want you to know that I've wondered about you, and prayed for you. God forgive me, I wasn't strong enough to save either one of you. Please forgive me for that. Please please please forgive me." Her shoulders heaved and she turned away and put her hands on the rail and wept.
The old man on the bench opened his eyes and sat up and looked at us. He said, "What in hell's going on over there?"
I leaned toward him. "Shut up or I'll kick your ass."
The old man untied the little dog and hurried away. I was blinking fast. Dust in the air. Damn dust is something.
Jodi said, "Edith?"
Edith shook her head.
Jodi said, "Edith, I forgive you."
Edith shook her head again, and her body trembled.
Jodi looked at me, and I said, "Whatever you want."
Jodi pursed her lips and blew a stream of air and stared at the rough board deck of the gazebo. She said, "Edith, I need to know one more thing. Did you love my father?"
Edith answered in a voice so small that we could barely hear her. Maybe we imagined it, hearing only what we wanted to hear. She said, "Oh, God, yes. I loved him so. God, how I loved him."
Jodi went to Edith and put her hands on her shoulders, and said, "Maybe we could stay for a little while, after all."
The two of them stood like that, Edith crying, Jodi patting her shoulder, together in the heat of the day.
CHAPTER 21
W e drove to Edith Boudreaux's house, parked in the drive, then went inside so that she could share her life with her long-lost daughter.
It was a nice house, furnished in Early American and smelling faintly of Pine-Sol. Everything was clean the way a home can be clean only after the children are older and have moved out. A grandfather clock stood in the entry, and a Yamaha piano was against the wall just inside the door. A cluster of family photographs sprouted on top of the Yamaha. Edith and Jodi moved together ahead of me, and there seemed a careful distance between them, each overly polite, each watchful and uncertain. Jodi said, "You have a lovely home."
"Thank you."
"Have you lived here for very long?"
"Oh, yes. Almost fifteen years, now." You see? Like that.
I sat in a wing chair at the end of the couch as they moved around the room examining the artifacts of Edith's life, as if we had stumbled upon a long-sealed chamber beneath the great pyramid. This is my husband, Jo-el. This is when we were married. These are our daughters. Pictures of the three grown daughters were spotted around the living room and hanging on the walls. Red-letter stuff: the graduation, the marriage. That's Sissy, our oldest; she has two boys. That's Joana and Rick, they live in New Orleans. Barb's the baby, she's at LSU. Jodi followed Edith from picture to picture with her hands clasped behind her back, unwilling to touch anything. She didn't seem particularly happy to be there, but maybe it was just me.
After a little bit of that, Edith said, "Would you like coffee? Coffee won't take but a minute." Nervous, and anxious to please.
Jodi looked at me, and I said, "That would be very nice. Thank you."
When Edith was gone, I lowered my voice. "How are you doing?"
Jodi made a little shrug. "It feels creepy."
"We can leave whenever you want."
She shook her head. "I'm here. I might as well learn whatever I can learn."
"Sure."
"I won't be coming back."
I spread my hands.
Jodi frowned. "Well, I can't very well be rude."
"Absolutely not."
When Edith came back with the coffee, Jodi was looking at the pictures on the piano. Edith had bypassed the Yamaha before, and didn't seem thrilled when she saw