this. This is what you want to do?"
"Yes, darling. With your full cooperation and
guidance, that is," he said, rising. He kissed her on the
cheek. "I guess I'll have to make it all up to you
doubly now," he added. She looked into his eyes and
gave him a small, tight smile.
"The cash register has been ringing for the last
five minutes without a pause," she said, and he
laughed. Then he kissed her gently on the lips. From
the way he gazed at her, I could see how important it
was for him to please her. She appeared to bask in the
glow of his devotion. After a moment she turned to
leave. At the doorway, she paused.
"You will be telling it all to Gisselle?" "In a few minutes," he said.
"I'm going to bed. This has all been too shocking and has drained me of most of my energy right now," she complained. "But I want to have the
strength for Gisselle in the morning."
"Of course," my father said.
"I'll see to her room," Daphne declared and left
us.
"Sit down. Please," my father asked. I took my
seat again and he sat down, too. "You want something
to drink . . . eat?"
"No, I'm fine. Nina gave me something to drink
before."
"One of her magical recipes?" he asked,
smiling.
"Yes. And it worked."
"It always does. I meant it when I said I have
respect for spiritual and mysterious things. You'll
have to tell me more about Grandmere Catherine." "I'd like that."
He took a deep breath and then let it out slowly,
his eyes down. "I'm sorry to hear about Gabrielle. She
was a beautiful young woman. I had never and have
never met anyone like her. She was so innocent and
free, a true pure spirit."
"Grandmere Catherine thought she was a
swamp fairy," I said, smiling.
"Yes, yes. She might very well have been.
Look," he said, growing very serious very quickly, "I
know how disturbing and how troubling this all must
be to you. In time, you and I will get to know each
other better and I'll try to explain it. I won't be able to
justify it or turn the bad things that happened into
good things. I won't be able to change the events of
the past or make mistakes go away, but I hope I will at
least get you to see why it happened the way it did.
You have a right to know all that," he said.
"Gisselle knows nothing then?" I asked. "Oh, no. Not a hint. There was Daphne to
consider. I had hurt her enough as it was. I had to
protect her, and there was no way to do that without
creating the fabrication that Gisselle was her child. "One lie, one mistake, usually creates the need
for another and another, and before you know it,
you've spun a cocoon of deception around yourself.
As you see, I'm still doing that, still protecting
Daphne.
"Actually, I was fortunate and am fortunate to
have Daphne. Besides being a beautiful woman, she's
a woman capable of great love. She loved my father
and I believe, she accepted all this because of her love
for him, as much as her love for me. In fact, she
accepted some responsibility."
His head bowed down into the cradle of his
hands.
"Because she was unable to get pregnant
herself?" I asked. He lifted his eyes quickly. "Yes," he said. "I see you know a lot more than
I thought. You seem like a very mature girl, perhaps a
lot more mature than Gisselle.
"Anyway," he continued, "throughout it all,
Daphne has maintained her dignity and poise. That's
why I think she can teach you a great deal and why, in
time, I hope you will accept her as your mother. "Of course," he added, smiling, "first, I have to
get you to accept me as your father. Any healthy man
can make a baby with a woman; but not every man
can be a father," he said.
I saw there were tears in his eyes when he
spoke. As he talked, I sensed every molecule of his
being was striving to reach out and force me to
understand even what he himself must have found
inexplicable.
I bit down on my tongue to keep from asking
any questions. It was difficult to breathe, not to be
drowned by everything that was happening so fast. "What's in your bag?" he inquired.
"Oh, just some of my things and some
pictures."
"Pictures?" His eyebrows rose with interest. "Yes." I opened the bag and took out one of the
pictures of my mother. He took it slowly and gazed at
it for a long moment.
"She does seem like a fairy goddess. My
memory of those days is like the memory of a dream,
pictures and words that float through my brain on the
surface of soap bubbles ready to burst if I try too hard
to remember the actual details.
"You and Gisselle look a lot like her, you
know. I don't deserve the good fortune of having two
of you to remind me of Gabrielle, but I thank
whatever Fate has brought you here," he said. "Grandmere Catherine," I said. "That's who you
should thank." He nodded.
"I'll spend as much time with you as I can. I'll
show you New Orleans myself and tell you about our
family."
"What do you do?" I asked, realizing I didn't
even know that much about him. The way I asked, the
way my eyes widened at the sight of all these
expensive furnishings in this mansion made him
laugh.
"Right now I make my money in real estate
investments. We own a number of apartment
buildings and office buildings and we're involved in a
number of developments. I have offices downtown. "We are a very old and established family, who
can actually trace their lineage back to the original
Mississippi Trading Company, a French colonial
company. My father did a genealogy which I will
have to show you some day," he added, smiling. "And
he proved that we can trace our lineage back to one of
the hundred Fines a la Casette or casket girls." "What were they?" I asked.
"Women back in France who were carefully
chosen from among good middle-class families and
each given only a small chest containing various
articles of clothing, and sent over to become wives for
the Frenchmen settling the area. They didn't have all
that much more than you're carrying in your small
bag," he added.
"However," he continued, "the Dumas family
history isn't filled only with reputable and highly
prized things. We had ancestors who once owned and
operated one of the elegant gambling houses and even
made money on the bordellos in Storyville. Daphne's
family has the same sort of past, but she isn't as eager
to own up to it," he said.
He rubbed his hands together and stood up. "Well, we'll have plenty of time to talk about all
this. I promise. Right now, I imagine you're tired.
You'd like a bath and a chance to relax and go to
sleep. In the morning, you can begin your new life,
one tha
t I hope will be wonderful for you. May I kiss
you and welcome you to what will become your new
home and family," he asked.
"Yes," I said and closed my eyes as he brought
his lips to my cheek.
My father's first kiss. . . how many times had I
dreamt about it, had I seen him in my dreams
approach my bed and lean down to kiss me good
night, the mysterious father of my paintings who
stepped off the canvas and pressed his lips to my
cheek and stroked my hair and drove away all the
demons that hover in the shadows of our hearts . . . the
father I had never known.
I opened my eyes and looked up into his and
saw the tears. His eyes were filled with sorrow and
pain, and it seemed he aged a little as he stared at me
with much regret.
"I'm glad I've finally found you," I said. In an
instant, that sorrow that washed over his beautiful
eyes disappeared and his face beamed.
"You must be very special. I don't know why I
should be this fortunate." He took my hand and led
me out of the living room, talking about some of the
other rooms, the paintings, the artworks as we
approached the winding stairway.
Just as we reached the upstairs landing, a door
was thrust open down right and Gisselle stepped out
with Beau Andreas right beside her.
"What are you doing with her?" she demanded. "Take it easy, Gisselle," our father said. "I'll be
explaining it all to you in a moment."
"You're putting her in the room next to mine?"
she asked, grimacing.
"Yes."
"This is horrible, horrible!" she screamed, and
stepped back into her room before slamming the door. Beau Andreas, who had come out, looked
embarrassed. "I think I'd better be going," he said. "Yes," my father told him.
Beau started away and Gisselle jerked open her
door again.
"Beau Andreas, how dare you leave this house
without me!" she cried.
"But . . ." He looked at my father. "You and
your family have things to discuss, to do and--" "It can wait until morning. It's Mardi Gras,"
Gisselle declared, and glared at our father. "I've been
waiting all year to attend this ball. All my friends are
there already," she moaned.
"Monsieur?" Beau said. My father nodded. "It can wait until morning," he said.
Gisselle swept back the strands of hair she had
shaken over her shoulders in her rage and marched out
of her room, glaring at me as she walked by to join
Beau Andreas. He looked uncomfortable, but let her
take his arm, and then the two of them marched down
the stairs, Gisselle pounding each step as she
descended.
"She has been so looking forward to this ball,"
my father explained. I nodded, but my father felt the
need to continue to justify her behavior. "It wouldn't
do any good to force her to stay. She would be less apt
to listen and understand. Daphne does so much better
with her when she's like this anyway," he added. "But I'm sure," he said as we continued toward
my new bedroom, "in time she will be overjoyed and
excited about getting a sister. She's been an only child
too long. She's a bit spoiled. Now," he said, "I have
another young lady to spoil, too."
The moment we stepped into my new room, I
felt that spoiling had begun. It had a dark pine canopy
queen-size bed, the canopy made of fine pearl-colored
silk with a fringe border. The pillows were enormous
and fluffy looking, the bedspread, pillowcases, and
top sheet all in chintz, the flowers full of Color and
glazed. The wallpaper duplicated the floral pattern in
the linens. Above the headboard was a painting of a
beautiful young woman in a garden setting feeding a
parrot. There was a cute black and white puppy
tugging at the hem of her full skirt. On each side of
the bed were two nightstands, each with a bell shaped
lamp. But beside a matching dresser and armoire, the
room had a vanity table with an enormous oval mirror
in an ivory frame, the frame covered with hand
painted red and yellow roses. And in the corner beside
it, an old French birdcage hung.
"I have my own bathroom?" I asked, gazing
through the open doorway on my right. The plush
bathroom had a large tub, sink, and commode, all with
brass fixtures. There were even flowers and birds
hand painted on the tub and sink.
"Of course. Twin sister or not, Gisselle is not
the sort you share a bathroom with," my father said,
smiling. "This door," he added, nodding at the door on my left, "joins the two rooms. I hope the day will soon come when the two of you will move back and forth
through it eagerly."
"So do I," I said. I went to the windows and
gazed out at the grounds of the estate. I saw that I
faced the pool and the tennis court. Through the open
window, I could smell the green bamboo, gardenias,
and blooming camellias.
"Do you like it?" my father asked.
"Like it? I love it. It's the most wonderful room
I've ever seen," I declared. He laughed at my
exuberance.
"It will be something fresh to see someone
appreciate everything around here again. So often,
things are taken for granted," he explained.
"I'll never take anything for granted again," I
promised.
"We'll see. Wait until Gisselle works you over.
Well, I see you've been brought a nightgown to use
and there's a pair of slippers beside the bed." He
opened a closet and there was a pink silk robe hanging
in it. "Here's a robe, too. You'll find all you need in
the bathroom--new toothbrush, soaps, but should you
need anything, just ask. I want you to treat this house
as your home as soon as you can," he added. "Thank you."
"Well, get comfortable and have a nice sleep. If
you get up before the rest of us do, which is quite
possible the morning after Mardi Gras, just go down
to the kitchen and Nina will fix you some breakfast." I nodded and he said good night, closing the
door softly behind him as he left.
For a long moment I simply stood there gaping
at everything. Was I really here, transported over time
and distance into a new world, a world where I would
have a real mother and father, and as soon as she
could accept it, a real sister, too?
I went into the bathroom and discovered the
soaps scented with the fragrance of gardenias and the
bottles of bubble bath powder. I drew myself a hot
bath and luxuriated in the silky smoothness of the
sweet-smelling bubbles. Afterward, I put on Gisselle's
scented nightgown and crawled under the soft sheet
and down bedspread.
I felt like Cinderella.
But just like Cinderella, I couldn't help feeling
trepidation; I couldn't help being frightened by the
ticking of the clock that swung its hands around to
clasp them finally on the hour of twelve, the
/> bewitching hour.
Would it burst my bubble of happiness and turn
my carriage into a pumpkin?
Or would it tick on and on, making my claim to
a fairy-tale existence that much more secure with each
pass-ing minute?
Oh, Grandmere, I thought as my heavy eyelids
began to shut, I'm here. I hope you're resting more
comfortably because of it.
12
Blue-Blood Welcome
.
I awoke to the sweet singing of blue jays and
mockingbirds and for the first few moments, forgot where I was. My trip to New Orleans and all that had subsequently followed now seemed more like a dream. It must have rained for a while during the night for although the sun was beaming brightly through my windows, the breeze still smelled of rain and wet leaves as well as the redolent scents of the myriad of flowers and trees that surrounded the great house.
I sat up slowly, drinking in my beautiful new room in the light of day. If anything, it looked even more wonderful. Although the furniture, the fixtures, and everything down to a jewelry box on the vanity table were antique, it all looked brand-new, too. It was almost as if this room had been recently prepared, everything polished and cleaned in anticipation of my arrival. Or that I had gone to sleep for years when all these things were brand-new and woken up without realizing time had stood still.
I rose from bed and went to the windows. The sky was a patchwork quilt of soft vanilla clouds and light blue. Below the grounds people were vigorously at work clipping hedges, weeding flower beds, and mowing lawns. Someone was on the tennis court sweeping off the myrtle leaves and tiny branches that had probably been torn and blown in the rain, and another man was scooping the oak and banana tree leaves out of the pool.
It was a wonderful day to start a new life, I decided. With my heart full of joy, I went to the bathroom, brushed my hair, and got dressed in a gray skirt and blouse I had brought in my little bag. I put all my precious possessions in the nightstand drawer and then slipped on my moccasins and left my room to go down to breakfast.
It was very quiet in the house. All the other bedroom doors were shut tight, but as soon as I reached the top of the stairway, I heard the front door thrust open and slammed closed and saw Gisselle come charging into the house, unconcerned about how much noise she was making or whom she might waken.
She threw off her cloak and a headdress of bright feathers, dropping it all on the table in the entryway, and then started for the stairway. I watched her walk halfway up with her head down. When she lifted it and saw me gazing down at her, she stopped.
"Are you just coming in from the Mardi Gras Ball?" I asked, astounded.
"Oh, I forgot all about you," she said, and