Pearl in the Mist

  "I'm sorry I'm being so difficult. I'm being selfish. But I can't help it," he added. Then he sighed with resignation and wiped the strands of golden hair from his forehead. "So," he said, "you're going off to a ritzy school. I bet you'll meet a lot of rich young men, sons of oil barons who will charm you."

  I laughed.

  "What's so funny?"

  "Gisselle threatened me this morning with you falling in love with another girl here, and now you're telling me it's going to be me who falls in love with someone else."

  "I have no room in my heart for anyone else," Beau said. "You take up too much of it."

  We paused, facing the old stable. Daddy told me there hadn't been a horse in it for more than twenty years. Off to the right, one of the grounds staff was completing the clipping of a banana tree, the fonds piling up beside him. Beau's words hung in the air between us. My heart ached, and tears mixed with happiness and sadness flooded my eyes.

  "I mean it," Beau said softly. "I don't think a night passes when I don't think about us in your art studio."

  "Don't, Beau," I said, and put my forefinger on his lips. He kissed it quickly and held my hand against his cheek.

  "They can do anything they want; they can say anything they want. They can send you away, send me away, threaten, whatever, but they can't take you out of here," he said, pressing my hand to his temple, "and here," he added, bringing my hand to his heart. I felt the quickened beat and looked back to be sure no one was watching us as he pulled me closer and closer to him so he could press his lips to mine.

  It was a long but soft kiss, one that sent a tingle down the back of my neck and brought a warmth to my bosom. His kisses were like little electric reminders of the passion we shared now. They awakened the memory of his touch, his fingers on my arms, my shoulders, and finally my breasts. His warm breath on my eyes brought back the image of his naked body that day he forced me to draw him. How my fingers had trembled; how they trembled now. The stirring in me was so great it frightened me, for I felt as if I could just turn and run away with him, run, run, run until we were alone in some dark, soft place, holding each other more tightly than ever. Beau aroused feelings in me that I never knew existed, feelings that were stronger than any warnings, any sensible thoughts could ever be. If they were set loose, there would be no way to rein them in again.

  I pulled back.

  "I've got to get going," I said.

  He nodded, but as I started back, he pulled my hand.

  "Wait," he said. "I want to give you this without a dozen eyes watching." He dug into his pocket and produced a small white box tied with a tiny pink ribbon.

  "What is it?"

  "Open it," he said, putting it into my palm. I did so slowly and plucked out a gold locket on a gold chain. The locket had a tiny ruby in the center circled with diamond chips. "Oh, Beau, it's beautiful! But it must be very expensive." He shrugged but smiled, indicating I was right.

  "Now open the locket," he said, and I did so.

  Inside was a picture of him, and across from it was a picture of me. I laughed and kissed him on the cheek quickly.

  "Thank you, Beau. It's a wonderful gift. I'll put it on immediately," I said. "Help me with the clasp." I handed it to him and turned around. He draped the locket between my breasts and fastened the chain. Then he kissed me on the neck.

  "Now if any other boy gets close to you, he'll have to get through me to reach your heart," he whispered.

  "No one else will get that close, Beau," I promised.

  "Ruby," we heard Daddy call. "It's time, honey."

  "Coming, Daddy."

  Beau and I started back. Daddy and Edgar were taking Gisselle off the galerie and transporting her to the rear seat of the Rolls-Royce. The wheelchair was folded and placed in the van.

  "Beau, good morning," Daddy said.

  "Morning, monsieur."

  "How's everyone at home?"

  "Fine," he said. Despite the passage of time and the healing of wounds, it was still hard for Daddy and Beau to speak to each other. Daphne had done so much to sensationalize and escalate the situation.

  "Ready, Ruby?" Daddy asked, looking from Beau to me. Daddy knew what it meant to leave someone you love behind. His eyes were full of sympathy.

  "Yes, Daddy."

  Daddy got into the car, and I turned to Beau for our goodbye kiss. Gisselle had her face in the window.

  "Come on, already. I can't stand sitting in here when we're not moving."

  Beau smiled at her and then kissed me.

  "I'll call as soon as I can," I whispered.

  "And I'll come as soon as I can. I love you."

  "Me too," I said quickly, and ran around the other side to get into the car.

  "You could kiss me goodbye too, Beau Andreas. It wasn't so long ago that you couldn't wait to kiss me every chance you got," Gisselle said.

  "I will never forget those kisses," Beau teased, and he leaned inside to kiss her quickly.

  "That wasn't a kiss," she said "Maybe you forgot how. Maybe you need an expert to teach you again." She flashed a look at me then and added, "Maybe you'll practice while we're away." She laughed and sat back.

  Daddy conferred with the driver of the van, reviewing the route to Baton Rouge and the school just in case we got separated.

  "What's that?" Gisselle asked when she saw the locket lying between my breasts.

  "A gift from Beau."

  "Let me see it," she said, leaning forward to take the locket in her fingers. I had to lean over so she wouldn't snap the chain off my neck.

  "Be careful," I said.

  She opened it and saw our pictures. Her mouth dropped open and she looked back through the window at Beau, who stood talking with Edgar.

  "He never gave me anything like that. In fact," she said angrily, "he never gave me anything."

  "Maybe he thought you had everything you wanted," I said

  She dropped the locket back on my chest and flopped back in the seat to pout. Daddy got into the car and looked at us.

  "All set?" he asked.

  "No," Gisselle said. "I'll never be set for this."

  "We're all set, Daddy," I said. I looked through the window at Beau and mouthed, "Goodbye. I love you." He nodded. Daddy started the engine and we began to pull away.

  I looked back through the rearview mirror and saw Nina and Wendy on the galerie, waving. I waved to them and to Edgar and to Beau. Gisselle refused to turn around and wave goodbye to anyone. She sat with her eyes forward, hatefully.

  When we reached the gate, I lifted my gaze slowly up the front of the great house until my eyes focused on a window in which the curtains had been drawn back. I studied it, and as the shadows moved away, I saw Daphne standing there gazing down at us.

  She was wearing a smile of deep satisfaction.

  2

  Further from the Bayou

  .

  As we drove out of the Garden District and

  headed for the highway that would take us to Baton Rouge, Gisselle grew unexpectedly quiet. She pressed her face to the window and gazed out at the olivegreen streetcar that rattled down the esplanade, and she looked hungrily at the people who were sitting out in the sidewalk cafes as if she could smell the coffee and the freshly baked breads. New Orleans always seemed busy with tourists, men and women with cameras around their necks and guidebooks in their hands, gazing up at the mansions or at the statues. Some parts of the city had a quiet, lazy rhythm, and other parts were bustling and busy. But the city had character, a life of its own, and it was impossible to live here and not become part of it or stop it from becoming part of you.

  When we passed under the long canopy of spreading oaks and passed the great homes and yards filled with camellias and magnolia trees, I too suddenly felt melancholy. The feeling surprised me. I hadn't realized that I had grown to think of this as home. Perhaps because of Daddy, because of Nina and Edgar and Wendy, and certainly because of Beau, I felt a sense of belonging now. I realized I would miss th
is part of the world that I had come to claim as mine almost a year ago.

  I would miss Nina's good cooking and her superstitions and rituals to ward off evil. I would miss the chatter I overheard between her and Edgar when they argued about the power of an herb or the evil eye. I would miss Wendy's singing to herself as she worked, and I would miss Daddy's bright, warm smile when he greeted me every morning.

  Despite the clouds of tension Daphne had kept hovering over us from the moment I arrived in New Orleans, I knew I would miss the great house with its enormous entryway, its impressive paintings and statues, its rich, antique furniture. What a thrill it was for me during my early days to leave my room and descend that grand stairway like a princess in a castle. Would I ever forget that first night when Daddy brought me to what would be my room and he opened the door on that enormous bed with the fluffy pillows and linen all in chintz? I would miss the painting above my bed, the picture of the beautiful young woman in a garden setting feeding a parrot. I would miss my large closets and my large bathroom with a tub I could soak in for hours and hours.

  I had become so comfortable in our mansion, and yes, I had to confess, somewhat spoiled. Having grown up in a Cajun toothpick house built out of cypress with a tin roof, a home where the rooms were no bigger than some of the closets in the House of Dumas, I was bound to fall into awe when I

  confronted what was rightly my home too. I would surely miss the evenings when I sat out on the patio and read while the bluejays and mockingbirds flitted around me and settled on the railings of the gazebo to stare. I would miss smelling the ocean in a breeze and occasionally hearing a foghorn in the distance.

  And yet I had no right to be unhappy, I thought. Daddy was spending a great deal of money to send us to this private school, and he was doing it so we wouldn't have gray, sad days, so that we would enjoy our teenage years unmolested by the dark burdens of past sins, sins we had yet to understand or even discover. Maybe in time, some joy would return to Daddy's life. Perhaps then we could all be together again.

  There I was, believing in blue skies when there were only clouds on the horizon, believing in forgiveness where there was only anger, jealousy, and selfishness. If only Nina really had a magical ritual, a chant, an herb, an old bone we could wave over the house and its inhabitants and turn out the dark shadows that lived in our hearts.

  We made a turn and had to come to a stop to wait for a funeral procession to go by, something that accented my sudden mood of despair.

  "Oh great," Gisselle complained.

  "Just be a moment," Daddy said.

  Half a dozen black men in black suits played

  brass instruments and swayed to their music. The mourners who followed carried furled umbrellas, most swaying to the same rhythm. I knew that if Nina were with us, she'd see this as a bad omen and cast one of her magical powders in the air. Later, she'd burn a blue candle, just to be sure. Instinctively I reached down-and fingered the charmed dime she had given me.

  "What's that?" Gisselle asked. "Just something Nina gave me as a good luck charm," I said.

  Gisselle smirked. "You still believe in that stupid stuff? It embarrasses me. Take it off. I don't want my new friends knowing you're so backward and you're my sister," she ordered.

  "You believe in what you want to believe in, Gisselle, and I'll believe in what I want."

  "Daddy, will you tell her she can't bring those silly charms and things to Greenwood. She'll embarrass the family." She turned back to me. "It's going to be hard enough keeping your background a secret," she claimed.

  "I'm not asking you to keep anything about me secret, Gisselle. I'm not ashamed of my past."

  "Well you should be," she said in a humph, glaring at the train of the funeral procession as if annoyed that someone had had the audacity to die and have his or her funeral just when she wanted to pass.

  As soon as the procession did go by, Daddy continued and we turned toward the exit that would take us to the interstate and Baton Rouge. It was then that the reality of what was happening pinched Gisselle again.

  "I'm leaving all my friends. It takes years to make good friends, and now they're gone."

  "If they were such good friends, how come not one came by to say goodbye to you?" I asked.

  "They're just angry about it," she replied.

  "Too angry to say goodbye?"

  "Yes," she snapped. "Besides, I spoke to everyone on the telephone last night."

  "Since your accident, Gisselle, most of them hardly have anything to do with you. There's no sense in pretending. They're what are known as fair-weather friends."

  "Ruby's right, honey," Daddy said.

  "Ruby's right," Gisselle mimicked. "Ruby's always right," she muttered under her breath.

  When Lake Pontchartrain came into view, I gazed out at the sailboats that seemed painted on the water and thought about Uncle Jean and Daddy's confession that what was thought to have been a horrible boating accident was really something Daddy had done deliberately in a moment of jealous rage. He had spent every day since and would continue to spend every day hereafter regretting his action and suffering under the weight of the guilt. But now that I had lived with Daddy and Daphne for months, I felt certain that what had happened between him and Uncle Jean was primarily Daphne's fault and not Daddy's. Perhaps that was another reason why she wanted me out of sight. She knew that whenever I looked at her, I saw her for what she was: deceitful and cunning.

  "You two are going to enjoy attending school in Baton Rouge," Daddy said, flicking a gaze at us in his rearview mirror.

  "I hate Baton Rouge," Gisselle replied quickly.

  "You were really there only once, honey," Daddy told her. "When I took you and Daphne there for my meeting with the government officials. I'm surprised you remember any of it. You were only about six or seven."

  "I remember. I remember I couldn't wait to go home."

  "Well now you'll learn more about our capital city and appreciate what's there for you. I'm sure the school will have excursions to the government buildings, the museums, the zoo. You know what the name 'Baton Rouge' means, don't you?" he asked.

  "In French it means 'red stick," I said.

  Gisselle glared. "I knew that too. I just didn't say it as quickly as she did," she told Daddy.

  "Oui, but do you know why it's called that?" I didn't and Gisselle certainly had no idea, nor did she care. "The name refers to a tall cypress tree stripped of its bark and draped with freshly killed animals that marked the boundary between the hunting grounds of the two Indian tribes at the time," he explained.

  "Peachy," Gisselle said. "Freshly killed animals, ugh."

  "It's our second-largest city and one of the country's largest ports."

  "Full of oil smoke," Gisselle said.

  "Well, the hundred miles or so of coastline to New Orleans is known as the Petrochemical Gold Coast, but it's not just oil up here. There are great sugar plantations too. It's also called the Sugar Bowl of America."

  "Now we don't have to attend history class," Gisselle said.

  Daddy frowned. It seemed he could do nothing to cheer her up. He looked at me and I winked, which made him smile.

  "How did you find this school anyway?" she suddenly inquired. "Why couldn't you find one closer to New Orleans?"

  "Daphne is the one who found it, actually. She keeps up on this sort of thing. It's a highly respected school and it's been around for a long time, with a long tradition of excellence. It's financed through donations and tuition from wealthy Louisianans, but mainly from an endowment granted to it from the Clairborne family through its sole surviving member, Edith Dilliard Clairborne."

  "I bet she's a dried-up hundred-year-old relic," Gisselle said.

  "She's about seventy. Her niece Martha Ironwood is the chief administrator. What you would call the principal. So you see, you're right in what we call the rich old Southern tradition," Daddy said proudly.

  "It's a school without boys," Gisselle said. "We might as well
check into a nunnery."

  Daddy roared with laughter. "I'm sure it's nothing like that, honey. You'll see."

  "I can't wait. This is such a long, boring ride. Put on the radio at least," Gisselle demanded. "And not one of those stations that play that Cajun music. Get the top forties," she ordered.

  Daddy did so, but instead of brightening her outlook it lulled her to sleep, and for the remainder of the trip, Daddy and I had some quiet conversations. I loved it when he was willing to tell me about his trips to the bayou and his romance with my mother.

  "I made a lot of promises to her that I couldn't keep," he said regretfully, "but one promise I will keep: I will see that you and Gisselle have the best of everything, especially the best opportunities. Of course," he added, smiling, "I didn't know you existed. I've always thought your arrival in New Orleans was a miracle I didn't deserve. No matter what's happened since," he added pointedly.

  How I had come to love him, I thought as my eyes watered with happy tears. It was something Gisselle couldn't understand. More than once she had tried to get me to hate our father. I thought it was because she was jealous of the relationship that had quickly developed between us. But she was forever reminding me that he had deserted my mother in the bayou after he had made her pregnant while he was married to Daphne. Then he compounded his sins by agreeing to let his father purchase the baby.

  "What kind of a man does such a thing?" she would ask, stabbing at me with her questions and accusations.

  "People make mistakes when they're young, Gisselle."

  "Don't believe it. Men know what they're doing and what they want from us," she'd said with her eyes small, the look cynical.

  "He's been sorry about it ever since," I had said. "And he's trying to do what he can to make up for it. If you love him, you will do whatever you can to make his suffering less."

  "I am," she'd said joyfully. "I help him by getting him to buy me whatever I want whenever I want it."