Pearl in the Mist l-2 Page 2

  "You all wished, you mean," she said angrily. She didn't pull herself to a sitting position. Instead, she turned and left her head sunk in the big, fluffy pillow, her arms at her sides, and sulked.

  "I thought you finally agreed to go and not to make a fuss, as long as you could take everything you wanted along, Gisselle," I said with controlled patience.

  "I just said I give up. I didn't say I agreed to go."

  "You and I looked over the brochures. You admitted it looked like a beautiful place," I reminded her. She focused her gaze on me, her eyes small.

  "How can you be so . . . so . . . agreeable? You'll have to leave Beau behind, you know," she reminded me. "And when the cat's away, the mice will play."

  Beau had taken my going to Greenwood very hard when I first told him. We had been having a hard enough time as it as, continuing to see each other. Ever since Daphne had discovered my secret painting of Beau, we'd had to keep our romance quiet. He had posed nude for me and she had found the picture and told his parents. He was severely punished and we were forbidden to see each other. But time passed, and slowly his parents eased up, as long as Beau promised to see other girls as well. He really didn't, and even if he came to a school dance with someone else or took someone else for a ride in his sports car, he ended up with me.

  "Beau's promised to visit as often as he can."

  "But he didn't promise to become a monk," she stabbed back quickly. "I know half a dozen girls just waiting to sink their nails into him: Claudine and Antoinette for starters," she happily pointed out.

  Beau was one of the most sought-after boys in our school, as handsome as a soap opera star. He merely had to turn his blue eyes on a girl and smile to make her heart pitter-patter so fast she lost her breath and said or did something foolish. He was tall and well built, one of our school's football stars. I had given myself to him and he had pledged his deep love for me.

  Before I'd arrived in New Orleans, he was Gisselle's boyfriend, but she loved to tease and torment him by flirting and seeing other boys as well. She never realized how sensitive and serious he could be. All boys were the same to her anyway. She still saw them as playthings, not to be trusted and not worthy of loyalty. Her accident hadn't slowed her down, either. She still couldn't be in the company of young men and not torment them with a twist of her shoulder or a whispered promise to do something outrageous when and if she and the young man were ever alone.

  "I don't have a collar around Beau," I told her. "He can do what he wants when he wants," I said with such nonchalance it made her eyes widen. Disappointment flooded her face.

  "You don't mean that," she insisted.

  "And he doesn't have a collar around me, either. If being apart for a while causes him to find another girlfriend, someone he likes better, than it was probably meant to be anyway," I said.

  "Oh you and your damned faith in Destiny. I suppose you'll tell me Destiny meant for me to be a cripple for the rest of my life, won't you?"

  "No."

  "What, then?" she demanded.

  "I don't want to speak badly about the dead," I said, "but you and I know what you and Martin were doing the day of the accident. You can't blame

  Destiny."

  She folded her arms under her breasts and fumed.

  "We promised Daddy we would go and give the school a chance. You know how things are here now," I reminded her.

  "Daphne doesn't hate me as much as she hates you," she retorted, her eyes flaming.

  "Don't be so sure of that. She's eager to get both of us out of her life. You know why she resents us: We know she really isn't our mother and that Daddy was more in love with our mother than he could ever be with her. As long as we're around, she can't escape the truth."

  "Well, she didn't resent me until you arrived," Gisselle flared. "After that my whole life went downhill, and now I'm being carted off to some girls' school. Who wants to go to a school where there are no boys?" she cried.

  "It says in the brochure that the school arranges dances with a boys' school from time to time," I said. The moment the words left my lips, I regretted them. She was always eager to pounce on any opportunity to point up her paralysis.

  "Dances! Can I dance?"

  "I'm sure there are many other things for you to do with a boy at Greenwood on the days they're permitted to visit."

  "Permitted to visit? It sounds dreadful, like a prison." She started to cry. "I do wish I was dead. I do, I do."

  "Come on, Gisselle," I pleaded. I sat on her bed and took her hand in mine. "I promised you I would do everything I could to make it easier for you, help you with your homework, whatever you need, didn't I?"

  She pulled her hand back and ground her eyes dry with her small fists before peering over them at me. "Everything I want?"

  "Everything you need," I corrected.

  "And if the school is terrible, you will side with me against Daddy and insist we come home?"

  I nodded. "Promise."

  "I promise, but it has to be really terrible and not just hard with rules you hate."

  "Promise on . . . on Paul's life."

  "Oh, Gisselle."

  "Go on or I won't believe you," she insisted.

  "All right, I promise on Paul's life. You're absolutely dreadful sometimes, you know."

  "I know," she said, smiling. "Go tell Wendy I'm ready to get up and get washed and dressed for breakfast."

  "I'm right here," Wendy said, coming around the door jamb. "I was here waitin'."

  "You mean you were spying on us," Gisselle accused. "Listening in."

  "No I wasn't.” Wendy looked at me, horrified. "I don't spy on you."

  "Of course she doesn't spy on us, Gisselle."

  "Of course she does, you mean. She likes listening in and living a romantic life through us," Gisselle teased. "It's that and your romance magazines, isn't it, Wendy? Or are you meeting Eric Daniels behind the cabana every night?"

  Wendy nearly burst with embarrassment. Her mouth dropped and she shook her head.

  "Maybe we are better off going to a private school and not being watched and spied upon all the time," Gisselle said, and sighed. "All right, all right," she snapped. "Help me wash and get my hair brushed and don't stand there looking like you were just caught with your panties down."

  Wendy gasped. I turned away to hide my laughter and hurried down to tell Daddy all would be fine: Gisselle would be dressed and ready for the trip.

  Ever since Daphne had tried to have me locked away in the institution and my subsequent escape, life at the House of Dumas had been difficult. Our meals together, whenever we were all available to eat together, were usually very quiet, formal affairs. Daddy no longer joked with Gisselle and me, and if Daphne had anything to say, it was usually abrupt and to the point. Most of the time was spent sympathizing with Gisselle or promising things to her.

  Although something of a truce had supposedly been declared between us, Daphne never stopped complaining or looking for things to criticize about me. I think it was her constant badgering of my father that finally convinced him that shipping us off to a private school and getting us out of the house would be the wisest thing to do. Now Daphne behaved as if the idea had been hers and that it was all so wonderful for the family. My guess was she was afraid we would refuse to go at the last minute.

  Daddy was alone in the dining room reading the morning paper and sipping his coffee when I arrived. A croissant with butter and some jam was on a small plate beside his cup. He hadn't heard me enter, and for a moment I was able to observe him without his being aware.

  Our daddy was a strikingly handsome man. He had the same soft green eyes Gisselle and I had, but his face was leaner, his cheekbones more pronounced. Lately he seemed to have gained a little weight around his waist, but he still had a firm upper body with gracefully sloped shoulders. He was proud of his rich, chestnut-brown hair and still kept a small pompadour, but the gray strands that had invaded at his temples were beginning to appear in the back and t
op as well. Most of the time these days he looked tired or in deeply meditative thought. He spent less time outdoors, hardly ever went fishing or hunting, and consequently had lost the dark tan he used to always have.

  "Good morning, Daddy," I said, and took my seat. He lowered his paper quickly and smiled, but I could see from the hesitation in his eyes that there had been some trouble between him and Daphne already this morning.

  "Good morning. Excited?"

  "And frightened," I admitted.

  "Don't be. The last thing I want to do is send you someplace where you won't be happy. Believe me."

  "I do," I said. Edgar appeared in the doorway with a silver tray carrying my orange juice.

  "I won't have anymore than coffee and a croissant either this morning, Edgar."

  "Nina won't like that, mademoiselle," he warned. His dark eyes looked darker this morning, his face glum. My gaze followed him out of the dining room and then I turned to Daddy, who smiled.

  "Edgar is very fond of you and sorry to see you leaving. Like me, he knows that the brightness and the happy sound of your voice will be dearly missed."

  "Perhaps we shouldn't go then. Perhaps this is a mistake," I said softly. "Gisselle is still complaining."

  "Gisselle will always be complaining, I'm afraid," he said with a sigh. "No, no, regretful as it is, I think this is the best thing for you. And for Gisselle," he added quickly. "She spends too much time alone, feeling sorry for herself. I'm sure you won't let her do that at Greenwood."

  "I'll look after her, Daddy."

  He smiled. "I know. She has no idea how lucky she is to have a sister like you," he said, a warm smile around his tired eyes.

  "Isn't Daphne coming to breakfast?" I asked.

  "No, she's having breakfast in the bedroom this morning," he replied quickly. "Nina's just taken it up."

  It didn't surprise me that Daphne would ignore us as much as possible on the day of our departure, but I half had expected to see her gloat about it too. After all, she was getting what she wanted: She was getting rid of me.

  "I'll be visiting Jean on Wednesday," Daddy said. "I'm sure he'll be interested to hear all about you. And Gisselle, of course."

  "Tell him I’ll write to him," I said. "I will, too. I'll write long letters describing everything. Will you tell him?"

  "Of course. I will visit you too," Daddy promised. I knew he felt guilty about sending Gisselle and me off to this private school because he had made that promise to visit at least a dozen times during the last week.

  Edgar returned with my croissant and coffee. Daddy began reading his paper again. I started to sip my coffee and nibble on my croissant, but my stomach felt as if it had a sac au lait fish swimming in it, tickling my insides with its tail. A few moments later, we heard the whir of the electric chair that brought Gisselle down the stairs. As usual, she moaned and groaned as she descended.

  "It moves so slowly. Why doesn't Edgar just come up and carry me down? Or Daddy? Someone should be hired just for that. I feel so stupid. Wendy, did you hear what I said? Stop pretending you didn't hear."

  Daddy lowered his paper and gazed at me as he shook his head.

  "I'd better go help her," Daddy said. He got up and went to help Wendy shift Gisselle from the stairway chair to the wheelchair on the bottom floor.

  Nina came bursting out of the kitchen and stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips, glaring at me.

  "Good morning, Nina," I said.

  "What kind of 'good morning' is it? You don't eat what Nina has prepared. It be a trip to Baton Rouge and you need your strength, hear? I got hot grits. I got eggs beat just the way you like."

  "I guess I'm too nervous, Nina. Please don't be angry," I said.

  She lowered her hands from her hips and pressed her lips together as she shook her head. "Nina don't get angry at you." She thought a moment and then approached, taking something out of her pocket. "I be giving you this before I forget," she said, and handed me a dime with a hole and a string through the hole.

  "What's this?"

  "You wear this around your left ankle, you hear, and no bad spirits come after you. Go on, put it around your ankle," she ordered. I glanced back at the doorway to be sure no one was looking and quickly did as she commanded. She looked relieved.

  "Thank you, Nina."

  "Bad spirits always hovering around this house. Got to be vigilant," she said, and went back into the kitchen. I wasn't one to doubt charms and talismans, superstitions and rituals. My Grandmère Catherine had been one of the bayou's most respected traiteurs, a treater who could drive away evil spirits and cure people of various ailments. She had even helped wives unable to get pregnant to get pregnant. Everyone in the bayou, including our priest, had deep respect for Grandmère. In the Cajun world from which I had come, various voodoo and other religious beliefs were often married to produce a view of the world that was more reassuring.

  "I don't like this skirt," I heard Gisselle complain as Daddy wheeled her into the dining room. "It's too long and it feels like I have a sheet over my legs. You picked it out just because you think my legs are ugly now, didn't you?" she accused.

  "It's the one you agreed to wear when we picked out your clothes last night," I reminded her.

  "Last night I just wanted to get it over with and get you out of my face," she retorted.

  "What would you like for breakfast, honey?" Daddy asked her.

  "A glass of arsenic," she replied.

  He smirked. "Gisselle, why make things harder than they have to be?"

  "Because I hate being a cripple and I hate the idea of being carted up to this school where I don't know a soul," she said. Daddy sighed and looked at me.

  "Gisselle, just eat something so we can get started. Please," I begged.

  "I'm not hungry." She pouted a moment and then wheeled herself up to the table.

  "What are you having? I’ll have that too," she told Edgar. He lifted his eyes to the ceiling and then went to the kitchen.

  As soon as we'd had our breakfast, Daddy went to see about all the luggage. It took Edgar and one of the grounds workers four trips to bring down everything. Gisselle had three trunks, two cartons, three bags, and her record player. I had one suitcase. Because Gisselle insisted on taking so much, Daddy had to hire someone to follow us in the van.

  As I was wheeling Gisselle out to the galerie, where we could watch the loading of the vehicles, Daphne appeared at the top of the stairway. She called to us and took a few steps down. She had her pale reddish blond hair pinned up, and she wore a red Chinese robe and slippers.

  "Before you go," she said, "I want to warn the both of you to be on your best behavior. Just because you're going a considerable distance away, it doesn't mean you're free to act and say whatever you like. You must remember you are Dumases and what you do always reflects on the family name and reputation."

  "What are we going to do?" Gisselle moaned. "It's just a dumb girls' school."

  "Don't be insolent, Gisselle. You two could bring disrespect to this family no matter where you go. I just want you both to know we have friends sending their children there, so we will be well informed as to your behavior, I'm sure," she threatened.

  "If you're so afraid of how we'll behave away from home, don't send us," Gisselle retorted. Sometimes I enjoyed my spoiled twin sister—especially when she annoyed our stepmother.

  Daphne pulled herself up abruptly and glared down at us with her blue eyes turning icy.

  "If anything," she said slowly, "you both need this school, need the discipline. You've both been horribly spoiled by your father. The best thing that could happen is for you to be away from him."

  "No," I said. "The best thing is for us to be away from you, Mother." I turned and pushed Gisselle toward the door.

  "Remember my warnings!" she cried, but I didn't turn back. I felt my heart pounding, the tears of rage burning just under the lids of my eyes.

  "Did you hear what she said?" Gisselle muttered. "Discipline. T
hey're sending us to a reform school. There will probably be bars on the windows and ugly matronly women slapping our hands with rulers."

  "Oh Gisselle, stop," I said. She rattled on and on about how terrible this was all going to be, but I didn't listen. My eyes kept sweeping the street and my ears kept listening for the sound of a sports car instead. Beau had promised to be here before we left. He knew we were planning to be on our way by ten o'clock and it was already nine forty-five and he hadn't appeared.

  "He's probably not going to come say goodbye to you," Gisselle teased when she caught me looking at my watch. "I'm sure he's decided not to waste his time. He probably already made a date to meet someone new today. You know it's what his parents want him to do anyway."

  Despite my brave facade, I couldn't help but worry that she was right. I was afraid his parents had stopped him from coming to say goodbye to me this morning.

  But suddenly, his sports car came careening around a turn. The engine roared and the brakes squealed as he came to a stop in front of our house and hopped out of the car. He raced up to the galerie. Gisselle looked very disappointed. I left her and hurried down the steps to greet him. We hugged.

  "Hi, Gisselle," he said, waving to her, and then he turned me away so we could walk off and be alone for a few moments. He looked back at the luggage being loaded into the van and shook his head.

  "You're really going," he said sadly.

  "Yes."

  "It's going to be impossible for me here now," he predicted. "Without you, my life has a gaping hole in it. The halls at school will seem empty. To lift my eyes while I'm on the playing field and not see you watching from the stands . . . Don't go," he pleaded. "Refuse."

  "I have to go, Beau. It's what my father wants. I'll write you and call you and . . ."

  "And I'll come see you as much as I can," he promised. "But it won't be the same for me as knowing every morning when I get up that I'm going to see you soon."

  "Please don't make this any harder than it is for me, Beau."

  He nodded, and we continued walking through the gardens. Two gray squirrels scurried along on our right, watching us with interest. Hummingbirds flitted around the purple bugle vine while a bluejay that had settled on a low branch in a magnolia tree jerked its wings nervously above us. In the distance, a train of narrow clouds rode the crest of a sea breeze east toward the Florida Gulf Coast. Otherwise, the sky remained a soft blue.