Hidden Jewel

  "Yes," I said.

  "You've become very fond of him?"

  "Yes," I admitted. "And in a mature way," I added.

  Daddy nodded. He looked very sad again for a moment and then sighed. "It's not easy to see your little girl become a woman. Goodness knows, no one knows the dangers that befall young people better than we now know them, but there's a wall of innocence around a young girl. Her pains and disappointments are all small compared to what she can endure later: a boy she likes doesn't ask her to the prom, her hair isn't as soft or as stylish as she would like, she has a pimple on her chin.

  "I bet you've forgotten the time when you were in third grade and some boy said your head was far too big for the rest of you. You came running home crying that day, and Mommy was out visiting an art gallery where one of her exhibitions was being staged. I was in the office, and you came to my door in tears. I had to run a tape measure around your head and then work out the proportions to prove you weren't a freak. How easy it was to drive the demons away from you then. How hard it becomes now."

  "Why must there be any demons, Daddy?"

  "It just seems there always are," he said. "But I suppose if you find the right man he will have the weapons with which to protect you. I hope you will find a man who can do better for the woman he loves than I have."

  "Stop it, Daddy!" I ordered.

  "Okay, okay," he said, raising his hands. "I'll be the man you think I am." He straightened up. "You're right. There isn't any time for self-pity." He bit into his sandwich. "Tell me more about this Jack Clovis."

  I didn't mind. I could have talked about Jack for hours. Daddy listened and nodded as we finished our lunch. He enjoyed teasing me about Jack, but I was so sad about leaving him that I welcomed even Daddy's joking.

  Mommy was sitting right where we left her, holding Pierre's hand and staring at his quiet face. I had brought her a cold drink, and she sipped it through a straw, but she insisted she wasn't hungry.

  Dr. Lasky arrived and examined Pierre. Then he met with us outside. "Physically, he's slipping," he said bluntly. "His kidneys remain shut down; his blood pressure is too low. Despite his youth, I am worried about pneumonia. I am sorry, monsieur," he said directing himself to Daddy because Mommy stood with her head bowed while he spoke. "I wish I could give you a better report."

  Daddy thanked him, and then we all sat down in the waiting room. Mommy laid her head on Daddy's shoulder. No one spoke for the longest time. Our thoughts and prayers were with Pierre. Looking through the windows toward the northwest, I saw that the layer of thick gray clouds was beginning to break apart. I thought to myself that Jack was gazing up at blue sky now, and I wondered how often he had thought about me since Mommy and I had left.

  A short time later Dr. LeFevre arrived and Daddy introduced her to Mommy. I sensed her disapproval and anger when she spoke to Mommy. Her tone was coldly correct and firm, but Mommy didn't get upset with her.

  "Of course, it would have been much more to Pierre's advantage had you been here sooner, Madame Andreas," she pointed out sharply, "but we must make the best of your presence now. I have spoken with Dr. Lasky and he agrees. We will move Pierre to a private room so you can spend longer periods of time with him uninterrupted. Of course you will need a private nurse around the clock," she told Daddy. "If you like, I will arrange for that."

  "Please do, Doctor. What do you think of his chances?" Daddy asked and reached for Mommy's hand.

  Dr. LeFevre thought a moment. She was careful when she spoke. "As I explained, each time your son fell back into a comatose state, he fell deeper and deeper and took longer and longer to emerge, and each time he regained consciousness, it was for a shorter period. Little by little, he's drifting away, almost like someone drowning, coming up occasionally for air, and sinking under again." She couldn't have chosen a more horrible comparison for my mother and me.

  Mommy's face contorted. She groaned, and then her eyes rolled back in her head. I cried out as Daddy struggled to keep her standing despite his being on crutches. Dr. LeFevre helped us get Mommy to the sofa. I ran for a cup of cold water, and she was revived.

  "I'm sorry," she said after swallowing some water.

  "It's all right, madame," Dr. LeFevre said, with more compassion now. "Such news comes like a punch in the stomach, I know."

  Mommy gazed at her with an expression that said, "You don't know. You couldn't even imagine."

  "If you're all right, I'll see to the arrangements for moving Pierre," Dr. LeFevre said.

  "Thank you," Daddy told her, and she left us. The three of us sat there, Daddy and I with our arms around Mammy.

  "It's as if the snake had bitten both of the boys," she muttered. "As if the poison had traveled through Jean into Pierre. It's how they always were,

  remember, Beau? Once one got sick, the other followed soon after."

  "Pierre is going to get better, Mommy," I insisted.

  She turned to me with wet eyes, smiling at me as if I were so innocent and foolish. "He doesn't want to get better, Pearl. That's the problem now," she said.

  "Then we have to make him want to," I insisted. "I will not let him drown."

  I got up and ran from the lounge, my own tears flying from my cheeks, my heart pounding. I charged out into the corridor, not thinking about where I was headed, and just marched quickly past the rooms, past patients in wheelchairs, past nurses and doctors. I stopped when I realized I had walked to the linen closet. The door opened and Sophie emerged. Her eyes widened with happiness when she saw me.

  "Pearl! How you been? Where you been? How's your brother?" she asked. Her arms were filled with sheets and pillowcases.

  "Sophie. Oh, Sophie," I said, and the dam holding back my tears broke.

  She dropped her pile of linens and embraced me. "You come in here," she said and led me back into the linen room. "Sit down," she ordered, forcing me to sit on a carton. "Now stop wailing and tell me what happened."

  "Pierre's very bad," I said after a deep breath. "The doctor's aren't very encouraging."

  "Well, the--doctors don't know everything, Pearl. I've seen old people on their deathbed snap their eyes open and start yelling at me for not bringing them their juice or tea fast enough. Why, once they pronounced a man dead and he got up and left the hospital, he was so mad."

  "No, they didn't," I said, smiling through my tears.

  "I swear," she said holding up her hand. Then she laughed. "I missed you, and a lot's happened here since you've been gone."

  "What's happened?" I wiped away the tears with the back of my hand.

  "Dr. Weller was asked to leave," she said in a hoarse whisper. "He done something a doctor ain't supposed to do with a young lady patient. There was a big hullabaloo, but everyone tried to keep it squashed. Next thing I heard, he wasn't a doctor here no more."

  "What did he do to her?" I asked, holding my breath.

  "Nothing much, except make her pregnant," she said, and then her eyes widened. "There's talk the hospital might be sued, too. Guess you're lucky you didn't become his study partner, huh?"

  "Yes," I said. "But it's tragic for everyone."

  "My mama says you play, you pay. Just remember, I told her, I'm not getting pregnant until I'm married. You want to come with me and get some coffee or tea or juice?" she asked.

  "No," I said, standing. "I'd better get back. My mother and father are going to need me more than ever," I said. "Pierre's going into a private room with private nurses."

  "I'll look in on him, too," she said. "And I'll say prayers for him and give a donation at the church." "Thank you, Sophie."

  We hugged, and I returned to the lounge where Mommy and Daddy were still waiting for Pierre to be moved. We saw him settled comfortably in his new bed, and Daddy and Mommy spoke with the private nurse who was going to take the first shift. Mommy insisted on remaining at Pierre's bedside for the remainder of the afternoon and relented only when Daddy said he was in too much pain to remain at the hospital.

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; "We all need some rest now, Ruby," he said. "Otherwise we won't be able to be with Pierre as much as we like."

  Reluctantly she agreed, and we went home. Mommy went right up to bed. She and Daddy had a light supper in their room. While I was eating, Aubrey came to tell me I had a phone call from a Monsieur Clovis. I left the table quickly.

  "Jack!"

  "I didn't want to call too soon. How are things?"

  "Not good, Jack. Pierre is in a deep coma again, and the doctors are very pessimistic. They're not saying this in so many words, but I think it would take a miracle for him to recover."

  "I'm sorry. I'd like to come to New Orleans, but I don't want to come at the wrong time."

  "Any time you come will be the right time, Jack."

  "All right," he said. "I'll be there day after tomorrow. Can you recommend an inexpensive hotel?"

  "You'll stay here, Jack."

  "I can't do that."

  "Of course you can, and of course you will," I insisted. "We have more room than we need. If I'm not at the house, I'll be at the hospital," I said. There was a little pause before he spoke again.

  "This may not be the proper time for me to say it," he told me, "but I miss you."

  "I miss you, too."

  I felt guilty .being happy when my parents were so sad, but I couldn't help feeling a surge of excitement when I thought about Jack coming to New Orleans. I had a better appetite when I returned to the dinner table and finished my supper. Afterward I thought about watching television or listening to some music, but decided instead to go up to my room to read for a while before going to sleep.

  The lights were out in Mommy and Daddy's room, so I didn't bother them, but a little less than an hour after I had put out my own lights, I heard Mommy scream. I got up and rushed across the corridor. The lights were on, and they were both sitting up in bed. Daddy was embracing Mommy.

  "What is it?" I asked, my heart pounding. hadn't heard the phone ring, but it could have. Was there bad news from the hospital?

  "Your mother had a nightmare; it's all right," Daddy said.

  "No," she cried pulling away from him. "It's not all right."

  "Ruby!"

  She shook her head vehemently and started to get out of bed.

  "Where are you going, Mommy?" I asked as she reached for her clothing.

  "I've got to go to Jean's grave," she said.

  "Now?" Daddy said, amazed. "But it's nearly midnight, Ruby, and--"

  "I have to be there at midnight," she declared. "My dream told me so."

  "You can't go to the cemetery now, Ruby," Daddy said. "Be reasonable."

  "Don't worry, Daddy," I said. "I'll go with her." "But, Ruby, it's so late, and you know there are thugs loitering around the cemeteries."

  Mommy continued to dress. Daddy grimaced and struggled to get his leg over the edge of the bed so he could reach for his crutches.

  "What are you doing, Daddy?"

  "If she insists on going, I'm going too," he declared. I turned and ran back to my room to put my clothes on.

  "At least wait for me," I heard Daddy cry. Mommy charged out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Her face was like a mask, her eyes fixed and cold as she hurried by.

  "Mommy, wait," I called.

  "See to your father," she replied.

  Daddy emerged on his crutches, moving as quickly as he could. I went to help him, but by the time we got downstairs, Mommy had already driven off.

  "She's gone mad again," Daddy declared. He and I got into his car and followed. I drove. Mommy had already parked her car and gone into the cemetery when we pulled up behind her.

  "What is she doing?" Daddy mumbled. I helped him out. We had a flashlight in the glove compartment, but we were fortunate in that the moon was nearly full and there were only a few small clouds. The moonlight made the tombs and vaults gleam. The polished stone looked bone-white against the darkness. I stayed right next to Daddy as he hobbled along the pathway toward my brother's grave. Mommy had lit a candle beside the vault and then had knelt and pressed her forehead to the stone. Her shoulders lifted and fell with her sobs. I left Daddy's side and hurried to her.

  "Mommy." I hugged her.

  "I begged him," she whispered in my ear. "He was lonely without Pierre, but I begged him to let Pierre come back." Daddy leaned on his crutches as Mommy lifted her head from my shoulders and looked up at him. "I had to be here at midnight, Beau. It's the time-when the door between the two worlds opens just enough for my words to follow the candle smoke through."

  Daddy leaned on his crutches and shook his head. "You're driving us all mad now, Ruby. You've got to stop. Come home and go to sleep."

  "I couldn't sleep. That's why I came here," she said. "You see that now, don't you, sweetheart?" she asked me.

  "Yes, Mommy."

  She touched the stone of Jean's vault lovingly and smiled. "He heard me. He won't let Pierre leave us. Jean is a good boy, a good boy."

  "Come home now, Mommy. Please." I helped her to her feet. She looked at Jean's tomb again, and then the three of us, crippled by our tragedy, hobbled along the pathway past other vaults and other scenes of sadness where the ground was soaked with similar tears.

  I gazed back once and shuddered with the horrible vision of a second vault, twin to Jean's.

  "Please, God," I murmured, too low for Daddy or Mommy to hear, "please help us."

  17

  Please Wake Up

  .

  Despite being exhausted by the time we all

  returned home and to bed, I tossed and turned, slipping in and out of nightmares. When I woke, I welcomed the morning sunlight, but I felt as if I had just run a marathon in the middle of the summer. My sheet and blanket were drenched with perspiration, and when I sat up, my legs and my back ached from the twisting and turning I had done in my sleep.

  I was the first to rise, wash, and dress. Both Mommy and Daddy looked as if they had been through the same wringer of horrors when they entered the dining room and sat down to breakfast. Mommy had already phoned the hospital and spoken to Pierre's nurse, who told her there was no change.

  "At least he's not getting worse," I said, hoping to find a ray of sunshine in all this gloom.

  "Yes, but he's not getting better," Mommy replied in a voice that was totally devoid of energy and expression. She ate mechanically, her eyes fixed on nothing. Daddy reached across the table and took her hand. She smiled weakly at him and then turned and chewed and stared. Daddy flashed a sad look at me, and I could tell that he was at his wit's end.

  "Jack's coming tomorrow," I announced, deciding that a change of subject might be the best antidote to our depression. Mommy's eyes widened with some interest, and Daddy looked impressed. "Is that all right?"

  "He's coming here?" Mommy asked.

  "Yes. I invited him to stay."

  Mommy looked at Daddy, who shrugged.

  "From what I hear, we owe this young man a great deal," Daddy said. "The least we can do is offer him hospitality."

  "I don't think I'm up to being a hostess," Mommy said.

  "Jack won't expect anything special, Mommy. He's here to be at my side and offer his comfort."

  "He sounds like a special young man," Daddy said.

  Mommy sighed deeply. I knew there was no room in her heart and mind for anything but sadness right now, but I also knew we had to dwell on hope and find new strength.

  While Mommy got ready to return to the hospital, Daddy returned the phone calls of friends and business acquaintances who had been inquiring about Pierre's condition. Afterward we drove to the hospital.

  The three of us stood around Pierre's bed gazing down at him in silence. Mommy choked back a sob and sat beside the bed to hold his hand and talk to him softly. She left his bedside only to eat some lunch, and only at Daddy's and my insistence.

  There was a great deal of pressure building on Daddy, too. He had business problems and tried to handle them over the telephone, but some things required his presence.
I told him it made no sense for all three of us to hover around Pierre's bed. He finally agreed and had a driver pick him up in a limousine to take him to some business meetings. I sat with Mommy and spoke with Pierre's nurse, Mrs. Lochet, a pleasant woman in her late fifties with short, thick gray hair and light blue eyes. Afterward I met Sophie for coffee in the cafeteria. I told her I had informed the hospital I wouldn't be able to return to work.

  "My parents need me at home right now," I explained. She was sad about it, but I assured her we would always be friends.

  "Maybe when you become a doctor, I can come work for you," she suggested.

  "There's no one I'd rather have at my side while I tend to patients," I told her.

  When I went back to Pierre's room, I found that Mommy had fallen asleep in her chair. The nurse and I gazed at each other and stepped outside the room to talk so Mommy could sleep.

  "Have you ever seen a patient like Pierre improve?" I asked her.

  "Well," she said hesitantly, "this is my first case where the patient has gone into a coma from psychological reasons. I have had comatose patients who were injured and who improved. I even had a young man who was shot by a mugger and who went into a deep coma and later improved. You can't give up hope," she added, but I didn't see any optimism in her eyes, and she did shift them away from me quickly.

  Dr. LeFevre visited and merely said, "We'll see," when I asked her for an opinion.

  Daddy returned to take us to dinner, but Mommy was so tired that we decided it would be better to just go home. Sitting in a chair and talking to Pierre all day didn't require much energy, but it was emotionally draining for my mother. She looked so bad, my heart cried for her. Her eyelids drooped, her lips trembled, her complexion was pallid, and she walked with stooped shoulders.

  When we arrived home, Mommy decided to lie down. Her supper would be brought to her room, but she insisted Daddy and I eat in the dining room. We did, but we weren't very talkative. It was as though Pierre's funeral had begun.

  "The doctor told me Pierre could go on like this for months and months," Daddy finally said. "I don't see how your mother is going to last. She was convinced her rituals and appeals to various spirits would help. Now that all of this mystical business has failed, she's at the lowest point I've ever seen her. I'm afraid we'll be visiting her in a hospital soon, too."