Landry 02 Pearl in the Mist (29 page)

"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 again. "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 anything 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.
I looked into his soft blue eyes, eyes filled with promises and love. "Yes, Beau. I will," I said, and he put it around my neck, and then with his fingers he followed the chain down to the valley between my breasts where his ring sat snugly. I thought I could feel its warmth through my blouse, a warmth that traveled with electric speed to my heart and started it racing. He brought his lips to mine and I moaned, feeling my body soften and mold to his embrace. The parlor was only dimly lit by the illumination of one small table lamp and the flickering flames in the fireplace. Beau reached over and turned of the lamplight. Then he turned my shoulders and I permitted my body to slide under him on the sofa. His lips were on my neck, his fingers unbuttoning my blouse so he could follow my breasts to their fullness.
Filled with abandon, tired of the anguish and agony that had pursued me relentlessly these past months, I turned myself to Beau with kisses that were even more demanding. Everywhere his fingers traveled I welcomed them, and when he lifted the cups of my bra away and nudged my nipples with his tongue and then his lips, I sank deeper and deeper into the warm pool of ecstasy that had flowed down from my shoulders, over my waist and legs, and brought tingling to the tips of my toes.
I kept my eyes closed and just listened to the rustling of his clothing and felt his fingers move under my skirt and slip my panties down. I raised my legs and let him take them off completely. The realization of my nudity drove my excitement to an even higher pitch. I tasted his tongue, his lips, and kissed his closed eyes. Both of us were whispering "Yes" into each other's ears. I opened my eyes for just a moment and saw the shadows and light from the fire dancing on the walls and even over us. For a moment, perhaps because of the heat between us, I felt as if we were in the fire, consuming ourselves with our own flames. But I wanted it, I wanted it very much.
I opened myself to him and he pressed himself forward and inward, calling my name as if he feared he would lose me even at this moment. I clutched his shoulders, pulling down on his back and joining him in the undulation that would make us feel as if we had become one entity. Wave after wave of passion washed over us. I couldn't distinguish one kiss from another. It became one long kiss, one long embrace, one graceful turn after another.
"I love you, Ruby. I love you," he cried at his climax. I muffled my own cries in his shoulder and hung onto him with all my might as if that would prolong the ecstatic moments. Then we stopped moving and simply held each other and breathed hard, waiting for our pounding hearts to slow down.
It had all happened so quickly. There hadn't been much of a chance to reconsider, not that I thought I would have. I had welcomed him, welcomed the relief and the passion, the love and the tenderness, the beautiful feeling; and in moments, I had
smothered the darkness and the sadness that had haunted me for so long. As long as I had Beau, I thought, I would have sunshine.
"Are you all right?" he asked. I nodded. "I didn't mean to be so . ."
"It's all right, Beau. Let's not make each other feel guilty or dirty. I love you and you love me. Nothing else matters, and that makes whatever we do good and pure, because it's good and pure to us."