Pearl in the Mist

  "Some sister," she moaned, loud enough for everyone in the quad to hear. "Threatening her crippled twin with violence. Merry Christmas," she screamed, spinning around in her chair to wheel herself back to her room.

  I couldn't help laughing at her this time, which only infuriated her more. She slammed her door shut and I went into my room to pack for our trip home for the holidays.

  The next day we had an abbreviated schedule, at the end of which we were all marched into the auditorium to hear Mrs. Ironwood's speech, which was supposed to be a short holiday talk, wishing us all a good vacation and a happy new year, but instead it turned into a heavy series of threats, warning us about failing to do our term papers and reminding us that shortly after our return we would be facing midyear exams.

  But nothing she could do could diminish the excitement in the air. Parents were arriving to pick up their daughters, limousines were everywhere, and wherever I looked, girls were hugging each other and wishing each other happy holidays. Our teachers stood around to greet parents and wish students a good holiday too.

  Our limousine was one of the last to arrive, which put Gisselle into a small rage. Mrs. Penny felt obligated to stay with her and comfort her, but that just gave Gisselle an ear to fill with her ranting. Shortly before our limousine did arrive, Miss Stevens appeared to say goodbye and to wish me a happy new year.

  "I'm going to spend the holidays with one of the sisters from my old orphanage," she told me. "It's something of a tradition. We've spent dozens of Christmases together. She's the closest to being my mother."

  Gisselle watched from the portico of the dorm as Miss Stevens and I hugged and kissed.

  "I never thanked you enough for what you did for me at the hearing, Miss Stevens. It took courage."

  "Sometimes doing the right thing does take more courage, but the feeling it gives you deep inside makes it worth it. That may be something only we artists understand," she said with a wink. "Do something with your spare time at home. Bring me back a picture of a setting in the Garden District," she said, getting into her jeep.

  "I will."

  "Happy new year, Ruby."

  I watched her drive off and felt a sudden wave of sadness rush over me. I wished I could bring Miss Stevens back home with me. I wished I had a real home with parents who would welcome her happily and we could all enjoy the music, the food, the brightness and warmth of Christmas together.

  Her jeep disappeared around the turn just as the limousine appeared. Gisselle cried out her joy, but when the driver pulled up to put our things in the trunk, she berated him unmercifully for being so late.

  "I left when Madame Dumas told me to leave," he protested. "I'm not late."

  Gisselle's mumbling wore down like the gradually lowering thunder of a departing storm in the bayou as we drove away from the school and headed toward New Orleans. When familiar scenery appeared, she brightened with excitement and expectation. I knew she had made phone calls to some of her old girlfriends and they had begun making preliminary plans for parties over the holidays. I just wondered what sort of greeting Daphne would give us.

  To my utter surprise, we didn't find the house dark and deserted. Daphne had had the Christmas decorations hung and there was a tree bigger than last year's in the main sitting room, under which was a pile of gifts. Moments after we had arrived and gazed in at the holiday splendor, the front door was thrust open and Daphne came bursting in with a peal of laughter. She wore a white fox jacket, riding pants, and a smart pair of leather boots. She had her hair pinned up under a matching fur hat. Her full carat diamond earrings glittered in her lobes, adding even more brightness to her undeniably vibrant and beautiful face. Her cheeks were flushed, and I had the feeling that she had been drinking. There was no question that whatever period of mourning she had undergone for Daddy's death was over. Bruce, laughing almost as hard, was at her side. The two stopped in the entryway and looked at Gisselle and me.

  "Why here are the little dears," Daphne said. "Home for the holidays." She pulled off her silk gloves and Bruce helped her off with her coat and then handed it to Martha, who waited obediently in the wings. "And how are the precious Dumas twins?"

  "We're fine," I said sternly. Her buoyancy and happy demeanor annoyed me. This would be a Christmas without Daddy. His passing was still as painful as a raw wound, and yet Daphne behaved as if nothing had changed; if anything had, it was for the better.

  "Good. I've decided to have a few holiday dinners, so there will be guests coming and going during your stay here. I myself have been invited to a friend's beach house for New Year's Eve, so I will be depending on you girls to be at your best behavior.

  "You can invite friends over and go to proper parties," she declared. Her leniency and generosity took us both by surprise. "We're going to be together for years and years, and it's best to co-exist on the best of terms," she added, gazing at Bruce, who was beaming like someone about to explode with one happy declaration after another. "This is the jolliest time of the year. I've always enjoyed it, and I don't intend to spend a sad moment. Behave yourselves, and we'll all get along just fine.

  "All of those gifts under the tree are for the two of you and the servants," she concluded. Neither Gisselle nor I knew how to respond. We gazed at each other with surprise and then looked at Daphne.

  "Go freshen yourselves up and put on something nice. We're having the Cardins for dinner. You might remember that Charles Cardin is one of our biggest investors. Bruce," she said, turning to him. He snapped to attention and followed her into the study.

  "Are my ears on right?" Gisselle asked. "I can't believe what I heard. But this is wonderful. All those gifts for us!" I shook my head. "What's the matter, Ruby?"

  "Somehow all this seems wrong," I said. "With Daddy's death so recent."

  "Why? We weren't buried in the vault with him. We're still alive and Daphne's right: This is the jolliest time of the year. Let's have fun. Martha!" she shouted. She looked up at me and winked.

  "Yes, mademoiselle?"

  "Help me up the stairs," Gisselle ordered. How long would she keep up this charade? I wondered, but I wasn't about to expose her and have her spread disgusting, untrue stories about Miss Stevens. I let her moan and groan and struggle like the cripple she wasn't.

  However, afraid that Daphne would return to her domineering and restrictive ways, Gisselle was a perfect little lady at dinner that night. I never saw her so polite and charming. She spoke about Greenwood as if she loved the school and bragged about my artwork as though she were a proud sister. Daphne was very pleased and rewarded us by permitting us to be excused as soon as the dinner ended, so that we could call our friends and make plans to invite them over. Daphne, truce, and the Cardins were adjourning to the parlor for after-dinner cordials, but as we all started to leave the dinning room, Daphne called to me.

  "I just want to speak with Ruby for a moment," she told her guests and Bruce. "I'll be there

  momentarily." She nodded toward Bruce and he led the Cardins out. Gisselle wheeled herself into the corridor, peeved at not being part of the conversation.

  "I'm very pleased with the two of you," Daphne began. "You're accepting the new order of things sensibly."

  Apparently Mrs. Ironwood had not informed her of the hearing or the circumstances surrounding it; or if she had, Daphne was ignoring it since the outcome was favorable, I thought.

  "If you mean-accepting that Daddy is gone, that's something we have to accept."

  "Of course it is," she said, smiling. "You're smarter than Gisselle is. I know that, Ruby, and I know that your intelligence permits you to make the wiser decisions. That's why I always agreed with Pierre that you should be the one to look after Gisselle. I will be giving the two of you more freedom than I usually do because of the holidays, but I will be depending on you to make sure everyone behaves."

  "I thought I was the hot-blooded Cajun," I replied.

  Her smile faded and her eyes narrowed for a moment, but then she smiled a
gain. "We all say things we don't mean when we're angry. I'm sure you understand. Let this be a real new year, a real new beginning for all of us," she said. "We'll wipe the slate clean and forget all the bad episodes in the past. Let's see if we can all get along and, who knows, be a family again. Okay?"

  Her changed attitude bothered me. I sensed she was conniving, preparing us for something, and I couldn't help being anxious.

  "Yes," I said cautiously.

  "Good, because anything else would just make life unpleasant for us all," she concluded, the veiled threat clear.

  I watched her leave and then followed. Gisselle was waiting in the corridor.

  "What did she want?" she demanded.

  "She wanted to tell me she hoped we would all have a new beginning, forget all of our past mistakes, and love each other like a family again."

  "So why do you look so unhappy about that?"

  "I don't trust her," I said, looking toward the parlor.

  "You would say something like that. You're always imagining the worst. You're always looking at the dark side, almost hoping things will be terrible, just so you can be miserable. You like suffering. You think it's noble," she accused.

  "That's ridiculous. No one likes to suffer and be unhappy."

  "You do. I heard someone say your paintings show your melancholy. Even the birds look like they're about to burst into tears. Well, I'm not about to let you put a cloud over my sunny sky." Then she wheeled herself off to call her girlfriends and start to make her holiday plans.

  Was she right? I wondered. Was I prone to sadness and melancholy? How could anyone like that? It wasn't that I wanted it; it was that I was so used to hard rains, I couldn't help expecting a cloudburst every time something nice happened and sunshine beamed down over me. But perhaps I should try to be a little like Gisselle, I thought, a little more carefree. I went up to my room and waited for Beau's phone call. When it came, it was so good to hear his voice and know he was so close.

  "My parents are resigned to the fact that I will be seeing you," he said. "Apparently they spoke to Daphne, and she was more reasonable about it. What's going on?"

  "I don't know. She's acting different, but . . ."

  "But you don't trust her?"

  "Yes. Gisselle thinks I'm being unnecessarily skeptical, but I can't help it."

  "I don't care what Daphne's motives are as long as I can see you," he said. "Let's not even think about her."

  "You're right, Beau. I'm tired of being unhappy anyway. Let's just enjoy ourselves."

  "I'll come by after breakfast," he said. "I'll spend every possible waking moment with you, if you like."

  "I'd like nothing better," I told him.

  The days before Christmas were full of fun and excitement. As soon as I could, I told Beau all about Louis and played the symphony for him. I didn't want Gisselle planting any bad thoughts in his mind. He was understandably jealous, but I assured him Louis was someone whom I had just befriended and who had befriended me. I told him about Mrs. Ironwood's expulsion hearing and how Louis had testified on my behalf, even though it meant he would be in the doghouse with his grandmother and cousin.

  "I wouldn't blame him if he did fall in love with you," Beau said.

  "He asked me if I loved someone else, and I told him yes." Beau brightened.

  "And he understands," I added.

  Confident now that Gisselle couldn't plant any nasty seeds of doubt in Beau's mind, I relaxed and enjoyed our time together. Beau and I went for rides, took walks, and spent hours cuddling on the sofa talking. We had been separated by time and distance and events so long, it was as if we had to get to know each other again, but if it was possible to fall in love with the same person twice, I did.

  At first I thought Gisselle would be envious, since she didn't have a steady boyfriend. But most of her old friends were drawn back to her, parading in and out of the house day and night. She had private parties in her room whenever Daphne left. I knew they were smoking pot and drinking, but as long as they kept the door closed and didn't bother any of the servants, I didn't care.

  Daphne went out every night to parties and dinners with Bruce, but on Christmas Eve we had a special early dinner for just the three of us because Daphne was going to a Christmas party in the French Quarter.

  "I thought we would have a quiet family dinner together to celebrate the holiday," she declared at the table. She was radiantly beautiful in her black velvet dress with her diamond brooch and matching earrings. Her hair had never looked softer or richer. She had planned our menu for our Christmas Eve dinner herself, asking Nina to prepare trout amandine. The dessert tray was filled with delectable choices, including tarte aux peche, banana nut bread, lemon mousse, and chocolate rum souffle. Gisselle sampled everything, but Daphne barely nibbled on some lace cookies. She had often told both Gisselle and myself that a lady leaves the table a bit hungry. That was the way to keep your figure.

  "Well, what have you two decided to do for New Year's Eve?" she asked.

  Gisselle looked at me and then blurted: "We'd like to have a party here for just a few friends." She held her breath, expecting Daphne to reject the idea.

  "Good. I'll feel better knowing you two are safe at home and not riding around the streets of the city."

  Gisselle beamed. Daphne had permitted us to have friends over this night too.

  Why was she indulging us so? I continued to wonder, but, like Gisselle, I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

  After our Christmas dinner, Bruce arrived to escort her to the party. He brought gifts for both of us and placed them under the tree.

  "It'll take you two hours tomorrow morning to unwrap everything you've been given," he declared, gazing at the pile. I had to admit it was overwhelming.

  "Enjoy your evening, Mother," Gisselle said as they started to leave.

  "Thank you, dear. You two enjoy yours. And remember, everyone leaves by twelve," she said.

  "We'll remember," Gisselle replied, then looked conspiratorially at me. The truth was that there were only two people coming to our house for Christmas Eve: Beau and Gisselle's newest boyfriend, John Darby, a good-looking dark-haired boy whose family had moved to New Orleans just this year. He had been on the football team with Beau.

  Before they arrived, Edgar informed me that I had a phone call. I went into the study to take it. It was Paul.

  "I was hoping you were home so I could wish you a merry Christmas," he said.

  "Merry Christmas to you too, Paul."

  "How are things there?"

  "Something of a truce has been declared, but I keep expecting my stepmother to pop out of a closet with a whip in her hand."

  He laughed. "We have a houseful of people for dinner."

  "I bet you have beautiful decorations and a nice tree."

  "We do," he said wistfully, "as always, but . . . I wish you were here. Remember our first Christmas together?"

  "Of course," I said sadly. "Do you have any friends over, any special friends?"

  "Yes," he said, but I could hear the lie. "Anyway," he added quickly, "I just wanted to wish you a quick holiday greeting. I've got to get back. Wish Gisselle a merry Christmas and happy new year for me."

  "I will," I said.

  "I'll speak to you soon," he promised, and hung up. I wondered if the telephone wires could withstand all of the laughter and tears, the happiness and sadness that would pass through them this night.

  "Who was that?" Gisselle demanded from the doorway. "Paul. He wants me to tell you merry Christmas and happy new year."

  "That's nice, but why do you have that gloomy look on your face? Wipe it off," Gisselle ordered. She had a bottle of rum in her hands and she smiled, holding it up. "We're going to have a good time tonight."

  I stared at her, my twin sister, indulgent, spoiled, capricious, and self-centered, sitting in her unnecessary wheelchair, milking everyone around her of their sympathy and using her false condition to get people to do and give her anythi
ng she wanted. At this moment on Christmas Eve, I saw her as the embodiment of all the evil inclinations in my own heart and imagined I was looking at the darker part of myself, almost like Dr. Jekyll peering into a mirror and seeing Mr. Hyde. And like Dr. Jekyll, I couldn't hate this side of myself as much as I wanted because it was still part of me, part of who I was. I felt trapped, tormented by my longings and dreams. Maybe I was just tired of being who Gisselle said I was: Miss Goody Two-Shoes.

  "You're right, Gisselle. We're going to have a good time." She laughed gleefully and we went into the parlor to wait for Beau and John.

  Less than half an hour after Beau and John arrived, Gisselle had John take her upstairs to her room and Beau and I were left alone. The house had grown very quiet. Nina had gone to her room, and Edgar and Martha were in their quarters. Only the occasional bong of the grandfather clock in the hallway interrupted the silence.

  "I thought and thought for months about your Christmas present," Beau said after we had kissed passionately for a few moments. "What could I give a girl who has everything?"

  "I'm hardly the girl who has everything, Beau. True, I live in this luxurious house and I have more clothes than I know what to do with, but . ."

  "What do you mean? You have me, don't you?" he asked, laughing. "You promised you were not going to be serious, that we'd relax and have fun, and here you are taking everything I say literally."

  "You're right. I'm sorry. What did you buy the girl who has everything?"

  "Nothing," he said.

  "What?"

  "Oh, I did buy this solid gold chain to hold it around your neck," he said, plucking the chain and his school ring out of his pocket. My breath caught in my throat. For a young Creole man in New Orleans, the giving of his school ring or his fraternity pin was a step below the giving of an engagement ring. It meant that all the words and vows we had whispered to each other and pledged over the telephone would be consummated. I would be his girl and only his girl, and he would be my young man, not only in our own eyes but in the eyes of our families and friends.

  "Oh, Beau!"

  "Will you wear it?" he asked.