The Legacy by Shirley Jump Read Free Book Online

slow-moving Bayou Teche, his camera in hand. Centuries-old oak trees coated in moss stood like silent sentries over the water, their branches weighed down and reaching toward the bayou like the hair of Mother Nature herself. It was the kind of place where a man could fall completely off the map, lost in its lush wilderness.
    Of course, the beauty around him included alligators lurking in the bayou, a thought that reminded Paul he needed to pay attention.
    Through his camera lens, he sighted a brightly colored bird in a tree, then turned to frame a stand of dead oaks that looked like blackened ghosts. He didn’t depress the shutter button, instead he simply observed the landscape through the narrowed, distant eye of the lens.
    The bayou was, as Marjo had said, unlike any place he’d ever been before. It seemed to combine the desolation of the desert with the teeming life of the rain forest, and yet there was also an other-worldly feel to the place. Before him, a gnarled cypress reaching at least a hundred feet up to the sky as an elegant red-shouldered hawk circled overhead, watching, always watching, for prey.
    Last night’s dinner with Marjo had been enjoyable, even if the two of them butted heads more often than they agreed. If he could just get her to accept his plans for the opera house, maybe he could leave this place.
    “What’s that?”
    Paul turned around, lowering his camera as he did. A boy, well, a young man, stood behind him, eyeing the camera, a quizzical look on his face.
    “A camera,” Paul said.
    “Does it make those instant pictures?”
    It took Paul a second to understand the question because of the Cajun accent. “A Polaroid? No, not exactly. But it does let you see the pictures right away.” Paul held out the camera, showing the young man the review screen.
    “Is that a picture you just took?”
    “No, just the scene from the viewfinder.”
    The young man’s face scrunched up at that word, but then he nodded, apparently satisfied with Paul’s answer. “I’m Gabriel,” he said suddenly, thrusting out a hand. “I make twenty-two at my next birthday.”
    “Paul.” They shook, Gabriel’s hand pumping up and down.
    “What are you doing in the bayou?”
    “Well…” Paul paused, filtering the information. Gabriel seemed to be a little mentally challenged—not much, but enough that Paul didn’t think entering into the legalities of his ownership problem would be a good idea. Besides, the way word traveled around here, anything he said would likely end up in the weekly paper. “Selling some property.”
    “Why?”
    Gabriel’s face was guileless, truly curious. “Because I don’t want to own it anymore.”
    “You don’t want to live here?”
    “It’s not exactly the kind of property someone lives in,” Paul replied, skipping the main question. He didn’t want to live here, or anywhere.
    “Oh.” Gabriel considered this, shifting back and forth on his feet in an almost rocking movement. “Why can’t ya?”
    The words came out blended, like, “I-cancha.”
    “The building I own is the opera house,” Paul said, figuring if he didn’t say that straight-out, they’d be playing the why game for a while.
    The boy’s blue eyes brightened. “You own that? Wait till I tell Marjo. She’s gonna want to meet you.”
    “I already met Marjo.” And tangled with her twice, earning a spot on her permanent enemy list, a dish of gumbo notwithstanding.
    “She’s my sister.” Another beaming smile.
    “Oh,” Paul said, surprised. It wasn’t that he’d expected Marjo Savoy to exist in a vacuum, he just hadn’t pictured her as part of a family. Her well-mannered brother didn’t seem to have inherited an ounce of his older sister’s disagreeable nature.
    “You should keep it,” Gabriel said. “The opera house, it’s really important to people. I forget why, but I know it’s really important.”
    “Well, I’m going to think about that,” Paul said, deciding he would, indeed.