He awoke suddenly, his heart hammering. The stench of river water filled his nostrils. The lamp fuel had burned low. The wick cast a weak light over the murk. With a whimper, he realized the bed was wet. The water crept over the top of his mattress, lapping at his feet and legs. Staring at the tester overhead, he wondered frantically if it would hold his weight.

A bump.

He glanced toward the window where moonlight flooded through the panes and silvered the watery floor,

turning it into a calm lagoon.

Bump.

His hands shaking, Tylor crawled onto his knees and reached for the lantern. He clutched at the wick

screw, cranked it high so the flame momentarily licked upward, casting light upon the far walls and on the water surface. Something splashed near the foot of the bed, and staring, his eyeballs bulging, he watched a pair of mud catfish swim into the halo of light near his feet, then dive with the blink of an eye out of sight. The idea that they were probably crawling along his daddy's prized oriental carpet made a bubble of hysterical laughter rise up his throat.

Then the lamp flame flickered and dwindled.

Bump.

Slowly, slowly, he moved his gaze over the water, toward the door.

"What the hell?" His vision sharpened on the two small glowing coals that appeared suspended just

above the water's surface. They began to move toward him.

And the realization struck him then.

It sluiced through his mind more horribly than the fever pain- like a knife blade, tearing with such

torment the body could not fully comprehend. Cold shock turned his chest numb.

"No." He scrambled to his feet, ramming his head against the tester, stumbling, grabbing the mosquito baire and ripping it off in his fist. The bull gator rose, snout breaking the murky surface, water swirling around its body as its tail drove it smoothly through the water, toward the bed.

Staring down into the bull's eyes, Tylor dropped the lantern, heard it crack as the heated glass hit the

water. Then there was nothing but the moon through the window, and he let out a crazed, terrified wail as the bull lunged and snapped... rolled to its back and took Tylor under.

The fever peaked. It burned her body throughout the day. She shook uncontrollably, thrashed in her

delirium so Chantz and Andrew were forced to tie her hands and feet to the bedposts.

Crying, she begged to die.

Crying, he begged her to live.

The slightest touch of her clothes upon her skin sent shock waves of torment through her, so Chantz stripped her of clothes and fanned her body, her skin that became mottled with oozing bruiselike discolorations. Then the black vomit began. Like one possessed with a demon her body fought the cloth ropes binding her to the bed.

Phyllis, going to her knees beside the bed, prayed, "Omnipotent and eternal God, the everlasting Salvation of those who believe, hear us on behalf of Thy sick servant, Juliette, for whom we beg the aid of Thy pitying mercy, that, with her bodily health restored, she may give thanks to Thee in Thy church. Through Christ our Lord. Amen."

Curling up on the bed beside her, Chantz took Juliette into his arms and held her. Exhausted, he fell asleep and when he awoke again the sun was high and pouring through the open window. A mockingbird sat on the sill, head cocked to one side staring at him. The trees moved with birds and their warbling echoed like angel songs through the room.

His eyes drifted closed again, and for a moment he believed himself swept back to the morning after their wedding night, their bodies kissed by morning's chill. Only, as he opened his sleepy eyes and turned his head, the heart-wrenching reality greeted him.

Juliette lay still as death in his arms.

Groaning, he rolled away. He covered his face with his hands.

The door opened and Andrew moved across the room to Chantz's side. "You've got to rest and eat. You're not going to do her any good if you're half-dead yourself."

"I'm afraid," he said, his voice soft and rough with fatigue. Staring out the window, at the pond, he said, "I'm afraid she'll slip away from me while I'm gone." He cleared his throat and turned his face away from Andrew. "I don't want her to go alone."

"One of us will stay with her. Please." Andrew laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "I know how helpless you're feeling. I watched my own parents die, Chantz... I'll call you if there's any change."

Chantz nodded.

He descended the stairs and left the house, sat on the gallery step and looked down the long alley of trees, to the high water obliterating the river road. Belle Jarod might have been an island. The only evidence of land beyond Belle were the far tips of trees protruding from the water. For the first time, he thought of Holly, and of Tylor. He thought of the unfinished levee, then told himself that levee or not, there would have been no holding that river back. Something like pity touched him, and he mentally shook it away. Now wasn't the time to dwell on his confused feelings for Maxwell's passing- the anger, frustration... and even sadness. His wife was dying. His precious wife. Juliette with laughing, flashing eyes. Juliette who touched him like no other person had ever touched him. Who gave him hope. Who inspired belief in miracles... and in himself.

Leaning back against the pillar, he turned his face into a shaft of sun. Over the last dreadful days he had focused his thoughts on their plans for Belle. Of tall green cane. Of filling the new rooms with laughing children, of escorting her into La Madeleine where he would buy her the finest champagne. He would dress her in the most lavish gowns and emeralds to match her eyes. He'd make damn certain that she would never regret marrying a mud dauber's boy.

Someone touched his shoulder. Startled, he looked around, into Louis's face.

His mouth stretching into a smile, Louis pointed to the pond. "Look yonder, Boss. Right fine, ain't they? Perty as a dream."

Slowly, stiffly, Chantz struggled to his feet, his gaze fixed on the sun-golden pond, still and reflective as glass. Upon it floated two white swans.

His heart stopped. "Julie," he whispered, pain choking off the word, his body going cold. Wheeling, shoving Louis aside, he ran into the house and up the stairs, slowing as his mother looked down at him, her lower lip trembling and her eyes pouring tears.

"Hurry," she wept. "I fear she's leaving."

The others gathered around the bed, Rosie and Liza holding Juliette's shaking hands while everyone else rested on their knees with their hands clasped. Andrew put his hand on her forehead and closed his eyes.

"Almighty and everlasting God, preserver of souls, who dost correct those whom Thou dost love, and for their betterment dost tenderly chastise those whom Thou dost receive, we call upon Thee, O Lord, to grant Thy healing, that the soul of Thy servant, at the hour of its departure from the body, may by the hands of Thy holy Angels be presented without spot unto Thee-"

"No." Chantz shook his head and curled his hands into fists. Rage shook him.

Phyllis looked around. "He's giving her Last Rites-"

"The hell you are," he shouted, then shoved his way through the onlookers, to the bed where Juliette, pale as milk, began to convulse. He tore the bindings from her wrists and ankles, and scooped her hot body into his arms, turned on his heels and left the room. Her head resting on his shoulder, Chantz carefully descended the stairs, feeling every tremble of her body vibrate through him in waves of heat.

"Hold on, darlin'. Hold on for me just a little longer."

He left the house. His long, urgent stride carried him along the gallery, then into the garden where his feet slipped on the damp grass, down the path along lush copses of honeysuckle that sweetly scented the morning air and bees buzzed from blossom to blossom. Beyond the flourishing magnolias and Cherokee roses, through the gray-green streamers of Spanish moss to the risen waters of the glassy pond where the white swans floated.

He walked into the water, sank to his shins, his knees, his thighs and hips, deeper, until the bracingly cool water swirled around Juliette's feverish body and her magnificent hair floated and spread like a fiery starburst in the water beneath her head. She gasped, and groaned. Her arms thrashed and her legs kicked. Her eyes flew open wide and she cursed him.

"Fight," he said through his teeth and immersed her deeper, until the water frothed around her neck, until, exhausted by her struggles she rested her head on his shoulder again and closed her eyes.

Stillness then, but for the big white birds with graceful arched necks and black bands around their eyes. The swans glided toward them, around them, stretching their necks and lifting their faces toward the sky as if... praying.

...Back when you chased butterflies and hummin'birds and believed, if given the opportunity, that you could ride swans off into the clouds.

Her trembling stopped, and with a soft sigh, she lay still and heavy in his arms.

The swans stretched their massive wings and lifted gracefully toward the pale blue sky.

His arms gripping Juliette, his chest aching with grief, Chantz watched the white birds rise up toward the clouds. "Don't go," he pleaded, feeling his chest heave as the sob swelled. His voice breaking and scalding tears rising to his eyes, he cried, "Don't go without me, Julie."

She stirred.

Her drowsy eyes opened.

"Husband," she sighed, her lips curving as she lifted her weak hand and touched his cheek. "I dreamed I was flying."

?Epilogue.

OCTOBER.

Each day she grew stronger. Sitting in a chair on the gallery, each evening she watched for Chantz- counting the minutes until he returned home from the fields, wishing that she could join him and Andrew and the others as they turned the earth to prepare it for January planting. Soon, she told herself. Very soon.

Tonight, anticipation vibrated through her body like tendrils of electricity, and although she forced herself to relax, the eagerness made her antsy. She paced. Again and again she returned to the office where the missive lay on the desktop. She picked it up and held it to her bosom, eyes closed, heart beating wildly with gladness.

How should she tell him?

Over and over she rehearsed the words. "Holly Plantation is yours, Chantz. Maxwell acknowledged you long ago- in his Last Will and Testament. Long before he died. He's taken care of your mother, too..."

Could life possibly get any better?

She smoothed the papers with her hands and propped them against the lamp. Decision made. He must learn the news alone. It was long awaited and far too personal. She would be there for him when he was ready. She would hold him and kiss him and they would fold their bodies together and love and dream of their future. They would try again to make a baby, and this time they would succeed. She felt it in her body, and in her heart.

Juliette left the house, paused on the shadowed gallery, and looked out over Belle's cleared grounds, the neat parterres, the long wide alley of ancient oaks, and the river beyond.

Lifting her cotton skirt, she danced down the steps and ran, exhilarated by the cool kiss of October air on her cheeks, the sharp scent of damp grass, and the rich aroma of dark, wet earth. Reaching the high-pillared gates, she stopped, turned her face toward the sky in which the stars were just beginning to twinkle. A pale fuzzy moon was just rising, its edges softened and blurred by a thin film of clouds.

A whippoorwill called, then another. Then, like a vapor, the white shapes of the swan pair drifted over the tree-tops, the measured beat of their wings a dull sound as they banked toward the pond and drifted gently down to the surface.

A warmth suffused her. A smile lifted her lips. The air grew colder, but she didn't care. The house, the river, the swans, her husband's love infused her with a sense of puissance. They could, they would accomplish anything and everything as long as they had each other. She held that emotion in her fast-beating heart, allowed the heat of love to ignite her every nerve, her every dream.

Chantz. Chantz. Chantz. My darling Chantz.

She felt him then, his presence, and she turned and saw him on the gallery, lit by the golden lights behind him, the missive in his hand. Elation filled her- for Chantz, for her father and mother, their dreams that would be realized at long last- for Belle Jarod that glowed like a jewel in the night.

"Husband," she whispered as he stepped from the alley, the papers falling from his hands as he ran toward her. "We shall accomplish miracles, you and I... together."

With a sense of lightness in her step, and a shiver of excitement over their beginnings, Juliette ran to meet Chantz, her arms open.

end.