"My daughter in England," she said, finally finding the strength to speak. "She was in a car accident and she is very badly hurt. I have to go."
"Of course," I said. "How dreadful. I'll help you with the arrangements."
"I've already taken care of most of it, madame. I was just waiting for your return."
"Oh, Mrs. Flemming. I'm so sorry," 1 said.
"Thank you, dear. I hate to leave, you know. You've made me feel like part of the family. I know you're very excited about your artistic career and need me to help with Pearl."
"Nonsense. You must go. I'll pray for you and your daughter," I said.
She pressed her lips together and nodded, the tears streaming down her face. "It's sad how it takes bad things to bring loved ones closer," she said. I hugged her and kissed her cheek.
When James brought my things up, he brought hers down. She had a taxicab on order.
"Kiss the little one for me every morning," she said.
"I know she'll miss you terribly. Please, let us know how things go and what we can do for you, Mrs. Flemming."
She promised and then left. It was as if a hurricane had come and blown my happy home apart. I couldn't help wondering if capricious Fate had decided to punish those close to me for any sins I might commit.
Nina Jackson, the Dumas cook, used to tell me that maybe a long time ago someone burned a black candle against us. Grandmere Catherine, being a spiritual healer, kept the evil away, but after she died, the devil, Papa La Bas, started coming around again, peeping in on my life, waiting for an opportunity.
Had I just given him one?
10
Picture Perfect
.
Paul phoned that night from Baton Rouge and I
told him about Mrs. Flemming.
"I'll come right home," he said.
"You don't have to, Paul. We're all right. I'm
just very sad for her and for her daughter."
"I like to be with you when you're sad, Ruby. I
don't like your being alone at times like this," he said. "You can't protect me from every little storm
that befalls me, Paul. Besides, I didn't have a nanny
helping me when I lived in the shack and things were
twice as difficult, did I?" I replied, my tone of voice
harder than I had intended.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to suggest you couldn't
do everything for Pearl yourself," he said in a small
voice.
"You don't have to be sorry, Paul. I'm not
angry. I'm just . . . upset about Mrs. Flemming." "Which is why I should be home," he insisted.
"Paul, do what you have to do and then come home.
I'll be all right. Really," I said.
"Okay. I should be able to leave here before
lunch tomorrow anyway," he said. There was a short pause and then he asked how things went in New
Orleans.
"Fine. Dominique and I made all the
arrangements, but I think I'll postpone it until things
get calmer around here."
"We'll begin a search for a new nanny as soon
as I come home," he said. "There's no need to
postpone your show, Ruby."
"Let's not talk about it now, Paul. Suddenly
that's not as important to me anyway, And I don't
want to go out and get a new nanny just yet. Let's wait
and see what happens with Mrs. Flemming and her
daughter."
"Whatever you want."
"Besides, I think I can be a full-time mother
and an artist at the same time."
"Okay," he said. "I'll be home as soon as I can." "Don't speed, Paul," I warned. "We don't need
another car accident."
"I won't," he promised. "See you soon. 'Bye."
"Goodbye, Paul."
The day's ride on an emotional roller coaster
exhausted me. After I put Pearl to sleep, I crawled
into bed myself. I lay there for a while with my eyes
open debating about calling Beau. I just dreaded the thought that Gisselle would find out I was calling, however, and I decided against it. I would wait for him to call me. I shut my eyes, but despite my fatigue, I tossed and turned, fretting in and out of nightmares, some of which had terrible things happening to Paul and some had terrible things happening to Beau. How fragile our lives were, I thought. In seconds, everything we had, everything we learned, everything we built, could become dust. It made me question what were really the most important things and what
were not.
I knew Paul must have driven fast despite his
promises, because he was at Cypress Woods very
early in the afternoon the next day. When I accused
him of it, he swore he had been able to end his
meetings earlier than anticipated. I was just finishing
my lunch and having coffee on the patio. Pearl was
beside me in her playpen, sitting comfortably and
coloring with her crayons. She couldn't stay within the
lines, but she was content smearing the colors over the
faces and figures, pretending she was doing what
Mommy did. Occasionally she would stop and raise
her eyes to see if I was watching and admiring her
work.
"Another artist in the family," Paul declared
when he sat down.
"She thinks she is. Did your meetings go well,
then?"
"I signed a new contract. I don't want to tell you
the numbers. You'll tell me they're obscene, just like
you did the last time."
"They are. I can't help feeling guilty about
making so much money when there are so many
people in need of the simple, basic things."
"True, but our industrious work and clever
arrangements will create hundreds of new jobs and
provide employment, opportunities, and money for
many people, Ruby."
"You're beginning to sound like a big
businessman, all right," I said, and he laughed. "I suppose in my heart I always was.
Remember when I was only ten and I had my roadside
stand, selling my Cajun peanuts, the dried shrimp,
from my father's cannery?"
"Yes. You were very cute, dressing yourself
neatly in your shirt and little tie, having your cigar
box of change."
He smiled at his memories. "I never wanted to
charge you and your grandmere Catherine when you
walked by and stopped, but she wouldn't take it for nothing. 'You can't stay in business that way,' she told
me."
I nodded, remembering.
Paul gazed at Pearl for a moment and then
turned back to me. There was a deep dark look in his
blue eyes. I could see the hesitation, too.
"What is it, Paul?"
"I don't want you to think I was checking up on
you. I just called to see how you were."
"Called? When? Where?"
"The night before last, when you were at the
hotel in New Orleans," he said.
My heart throbbed in triple time as I held my
breath. "What time?" I asked softly.
"After eleven. I didn't want to call too late for
fear I might wake you, but . ."
I turned away.
"As I said," he continued, "don't think I was
checking up on you. You don't owe me any
explanations, Ruby," he added quickly.
Over the cypress trees that walled the swamps,
I saw a marsh hawk lift itself and float downward,
probably to pluck some unwary prey. It caused a half
dozen rice birds to scatter. Beyond the trees, a ceiling
of bruised clouds made its slow but determined journey in our direction, promising torrents of rain before the day ended. I felt a cloud burst within me, releasing drops of ice over my heart. They streamed down into my stomach and into my legs, filling me
with a cold numbness.
"I wasn't in the hotel, Paul," I said slowly. "I
was with Beau."
I turned quickly to catch the confirmation in his
face. He was caught in a tug-of-war of emotions. He
had known, but I knew he didn't want to know; and
yet he did. He wanted to face reality, but he was
hoping it wasn't the reality he dreaded. Pain flashed in
his eyes. I shrank into a tighter ball.
"How could you do that? How could you be
with that man after the way he deserted you?" "Paul. . ."
"No, I'd like to know. Don't you have any selfrespect? He left you to have his baby while he went
off and enjoyed Paris and who knows how many
Frenchwomen. Then he married your sister and
inherited half your wealth. Now you go running back
to him, sneaking in the night."
"Paul, I didn't mean to be deceitful. Really . . ." He turned quickly to me. "That was your real
purpose for going to New Orleans, wasn't it? It wasn't the paintings, your art career. It was to run to his arms
again. Have you planned other sneaky rendezvous?" "I was going to tell you," I said. "Eventually." "Sure," he said. He sat back and pulled up his
shoulders. "What have you two decided to do?" "Decided to do?"
"Is he going to divorce Gisselle?"
"No such proposal was discussed," I said.
"Except we both know what our religious beliefs are
and how divorce is not an acceptable option,
especially to his family. Besides, I can't imagine
Gisselle being cooperative, can you?"
"Hardly," Paul said.
"Just the opposite would happen. She would
feed on the scandal. She would help write the
headline: One Twin Steals the Other's Husband. You
can just imagine what it would do to Beau and his
family in New Orleans, and . . . it wouldn't be fair to
you, Paul. These people here . ."
"Really?" he said with a smirk.
"Paul, please. I feel dreadful about this. There's
no one I want to hurt less than you."
He looked away so I wouldn't see the tears and
anger in his face. "It's nothing I haven't brought on
myself," he muttered. "Mother said it would happen
eventually." He was silent.
"Don't just sit there like that, Paul. Scream at
me. Throw me out."
He turned slowly. The pain in his face was like
a sword in my heart. "You know I won't do that,
Ruby. I can't stop myself from loving you."
"I know," I said sadly. "I wish you didn't. I wish
you could hate me," I said.
He smiled. "You might as well wish for the
earth to stop spinning, the sun to stop coming up in
the morning and going down at night."
We gazed at each other and I thought how cruel
it was for Fate to cause him to have such unrequited
passion for me. Fate had turned him into a thirsty man
forever hovering above cool, clear water, but
forbidding him to drink. If only there were a way to
get him to hate me, I thought with irony. It would be
painful for me, but it would be so much better for him.
Between us, like a raw wound that refused to heal,
lingered our regrets and sadness.
"Well," he said finally, "let's not speak of
unhappy things right now. We have too many other
problems at the moment. You're certain about us not
seeking another nanny?"
"For the time being, yes."
"Okay, but I hate to see you put your career on
hold. I'm supposed to be married to a famous Cajun
artist. I did a great deal of bragging in Baton Rouge.
There are at least a dozen rich oil men eager to buy
one of your paintings."
"Oh, Paul, you shouldn't do that. I'm not that
good."
"Yes you are," he insisted, and rose. "I have to
stop at the cannery and speak to my father, but I'll be
home early."
"Good, because I invited Jeanne and James to
dinner. She called earlier and sounded like she wanted
to see us very much," I said.
"Oh? Fine." He leaned over to kiss me, but he
was much more tentative about it and his kiss was
much more perfunctory: a quick snap of his lips
against my cheek, the way he would kiss his sister or
his mother. A new wall had fallen between us, and
there was no telling how thick it might become in the
days and months to follow.
After he had left I sat there on the verge of
tears. Although I was sure it wasn't his intention, the
more he demonstrated his love for me, the more guilty
I felt for loving and being with Beau. I told myself I
had warned Paul. I told myself I had never made the same sort of vows he had made, marrying myself to some pure and religious idea of a relationship that rivaled a priest or a nun's marriage to the church. I told myself I was a full-blooded woman whose passions raged through her veins with just as much intensity as any other woman's and I could not quiet
them down nor shut them away.
What's more, I didn't want to. Even at this
moment, I longed to be in Beau's arms again, and I
longed for his lips on mine. Filled with frustration, I
sucked in my breath and swallowed back my tears. It
wasn't the time to weaken and sob on pillows. It was
the time to be strong and face whatever challenges
malicious Fate threw my way.
I could use some good gris-gris, I thought. I
could use one of Nina Jackson's fast-luck powders or
Dragon Blood Sticks. Some time ago, she had given
me a dime to wear around my ankle. It was to bring
me good luck. I had taken it off and put it away, but I
remembered where it was, and when I took Pearl up
for her afternoon nap, I found it and fastened it around
my ankle again.
I knew many would laugh at me, but they had
never seen Grandmere Catherine lay her hands on a
fevered child and cause his or her temperature to go down. They had never felt an evil spirit fly by in the night, fleeing from Grandmere Catherine's words and elixirs. And they had never heard the mumbo jumbo of a Voodoo Mama and then saw the results. It was a world filled with many mysteries, peopled by many spirits, both good and bad, and whatever magic one could conjure to find health and happiness was fine with me, no matter who laughed or who ridiculed it. Most of the time, they were people who believed in nothing anyway, people like my sister who believed only in their own happiness. And I, better than most people my age, already knew how vulnerable and how
fleeting that happiness could be.
That night I saw how eager Paul was for us to
have an enjoyable dinner with his sister and her
husband. He wanted to do all that he could to drive
away the dark shadows that had fallen between us and
lingered in the secret corners of our hearts. He
stopped by the kitchen and asked Letty to make
something extra special and he served our most
expensive wines, both he and James drinking quite a
bit. At dinner our conversation was light and
punctuated by many moments of laughter, but I could
see Jeanne was troubled and wanted to have a private
talk. So as soon as dinner ended and Paul suggested we all go into the living room, I said I wanted to show
Jeanne a new dress I had bought in New Orleans. "We'll be right down," I promised.
"You just want to skip our political talk, that's
all," Paul accused playfully. But when he looked at
me closer, he saw why I wanted to take Jeanne
upstairs and he put his arm around James and led him
away.
Jeanne burst into tears the moment we were
alone. "What is it?" I asked, embracing her. I led her
to the settee and handed her a handkerchief.
"Oh, Ruby, I'm so unhappy. I thought I would
have a marriage as wonderful as yours, but it's been
disappointing. Not the first two weeks, of course," she
added between sobs, ,"but afterward, when we settled
down, the romance just seemed to die. All he cares
about is his career and his work. Sometimes he doesn't
come home until ten or eleven o'clock and I have to
eat dinner all alone, and then when he does arrive, he's
usually so exhausted, he wants to go right to sleep." "Did you tell him how you feel about it?" I
asked, sitting beside her.
"Yes." She sucked in her gasps and stopped
sobbing. "But all he says is he's just starting his career
and I have to be understanding. One night he snapped at me and said, 'I'm not as lucky as your brother. I wasn't born with a silver spoon in my mouth so I would inherit oil-rich land. I've got to work for a
living.'
"I told him Paul works for a living. I don't know
anyone who works harder. He doesn't take anything
for granted, right, Ruby?"
"Paul thinks there are twenty-five hours in
every day, not twenty-four," I said, smiling.
"Yet somehow he manages to keep the romance
in your marriage, doesn't he? A person would just
have to look at you two together and he or she would
see how devoted you are to each other and how much
you care about each other's feelings. No matter how
hard Paul works, he always has time for you, doesn't
he? And you don't mind his being away so much,
right?"
I shifted my eyes away quickly so she couldn't
read the truth in them and then I folded my arms
across my chest in Grandmere Catherine's way and