The Unmasking

by Emilie Richards

  LOUISE DUMONTIER SAT in her drawing room surrounded by sheets of paper torn from yellow legal pads. As Justin, back from a morning run, stopped to watch, she shredded the top sheet she had been working on. With a toss she threw the paper over her head like so much confetti and sat absolutely still as the pieces settled on the heavy, formal furniture.

  “Is this a private party, or can anybody come?” he asked.

  She turned and saw him in the doorway, dressed in nylon shorts with a terry-cloth towel around his neck. He pulled the towel to his face and began to mop that and then his chest.

  “Come in,” she said sheepishly. “I didn’t know you were back from your run.”

  “You were a million miles away.” He pointed to the scraps of paper. “Are you making decorations for the parish ball?”

  “I’ve been trying to deal with all the last-minute details. It’s a fund-raiser and when I promised I would do it, I thought it would be fun.” She made a wry face as she began to scoop up her mess. “Now I think I’m going to turn this over to somebody else. I just don’t seem to be able to concentrate.”

  “What’s bothering you, Mother?”

  She looked torn between answering and pretending he was mistaken. As he watched her struggle he realized that some things never changed, and simply telling the unvarnished truth without worrying what might happen later was not the Dumontier family’s signature.

  But today Louise surprised him. “I was worrying about you. I know you’re still planning to go back to Chicago, and I’ll be damned—”

  As soon as the curse escaped her lips, she clamped them shut.

  “You can go on,” he said.

  “Damned if I can figure out why. And yes I realize I have no right to interfere in your life. You left New Orleans in the first place because your father’s interference drove you to it. I’ve done my best for years not to follow his example.”

  Justin sank into a Regency open armchair, only vaguely aware what his sweaty body might do to the upholstery. “I assume you’re talking about Abby and Bethany.” He could feel his mouth thinning into a grim line as she nodded. “I thought so,” he said.

  “How can you leave them here? They’re your family, even if you aren’t married to Bethany. And she’s so obviously in love with you, Justin. If you’re not in love with her, couldn’t you learn to love her eventually?”

  “I asked Bethany to marry me as soon as I found out about Abby, and she refused.”

  He could see that the words, matter-of-fact and uttered with studied nonchalance, hadn’t fooled her. She knew that a nonchalant Justin was usually at his most emotional.

  “I can’t believe she would have refused a warm, sincere proposal.”

  He wasn’t happy that his mother had gotten right to the root of the problem. His proposal had been sincere. Marrying the mother of his child was his duty. But it hadn’t been issued with warmth, and Bethany was no fool. She had refused because she thought his proposal had been issued without love. She had no idea that his feelings for her had never really changed, that all those years they had been apart he had been obsessed with finding her. Each time a woman with long dark hair or a sweetly sensual walk mirroring hers had come into his life he’d had to remind himself to breathe.

  His mother was watching him. “I wish I could do my life over again.”

  Nothing could have surprised him more. He tilted his head in question.

  “Your father swept me off my feet.”

  “My father?” This he couldn’t imagine.

  “Did you think I married him for his status or money?” She gave a humorless laugh. “I know you realize you look like him. Both you and Marie were Dumontiers through and through. But once upon a time he was young, like you are now, and so much like you, Justin, exciting to be with, romantic, even funny at times. And what a catch. Every girl I knew was in love with him. And he chose me.” She smiled, as if she was remembering the moment when she’d achieved her heart’s desire.

  Then the smile died. “And afterward, he put all that behind him, a little at a time, until Marie died, when he lost all his vitality and turned into the man you remember, a shadow of the one I married. And worse, from that moment on, he became the shadow that haunted my son.”

  “If you weren’t happy, why did you stay?”

  “I made a commitment.”

  “And because you loved him,” Justin said, because he knew it had been true.

  “I did, but I hated what he did to both of us. He tried to bleed all the life out of you. I did what I could to stop it, but I couldn’t do enough. He taught you to be cautious every moment, not to follow your heart—”

  “Not necessarily bad advice.”

  “Does your father’s advice make you happy?”

  Justin knew exactly what would make him happy, but in a way his mother was right. Like his father he was frozen by formality, by internal and external demands for perfection, a man doomed to spend his life alone. Once during a long night on a faraway beach he had come to terms with that part of himself. He had flung that image aside, and he had committed himself to following the path his emotions had set before him.

  But now?

  “You don’t know Bethany very well yet.” For some reason he wanted her to understand, even though neither of them were good at confrontations like this one. “Her story’s not mine to tell, but she wasn’t loved as a child, and she needs love. She needs so much more than I can give her. You lived this yourself. You married a man who wasn’t capable of reaching out—”

  “Please. Your father was perfectly capable of anything and everything. I think he even wanted to. He just never learned how, and he refused to let me help.”

  Justin tried to picture his father as someone with unmet needs, and couldn’t.

  She shook her head. “You’re a man, Justin, not a little boy trying to make your father happy. You’re capable of being anything and anyone you want to be. Maybe you think you got away from him, but you took him right along with you. For too long you’ve swallowed the myth that you’re like him, and you’ll always be like him. You’re not. You have everything Bethany needs right here.” She put her fist over her heart.

  She was right about part of this. All he had to do was tell Bethany how he felt, and she would be his. But would she grow and expand with his love, or would she wither and die if he took her away from all those who loved her and from the place that was the only home she had ever really known?

  And if he took her away, what did he really have inside him to offer as a replacement?

  That night on a Honolulu beach he had been courageous and confident. But it was five years later, and the Chicago winds and lonely nights had worn away his belief in himself.

  He sat silently, his arms folded, and stared across the room at an empty space on the wall.

  “Son?”

  “I don’t know what’s going to happen, Mother. I just don’t know.”

  “Don’t let logic stand in the way of a happy ending, Justin.”

  As he stood and walked to the door he gave a derisive laugh. “It’s anything but logic. If only it were that simple.”

  * * *

  BETHANY’S EYES STOLE to the hands of her watch, and she fidgeted nervously as a young couple tried on mask after mask. Justin had been invited for lunch, and she was anxious to finish this sale so she could go upstairs and check the jambalaya simmering in her apartment.

  It was only a little over a week until Mardi Gras, and the extra burden of work was beginning to take its toll. Madeline had finally hired another worker, a mask maker who sometimes sold on consignment, to help mind the store. Bethany had worked ten hours at the shop every day and long hours afterward, finishing masks. She was taking the rest of the day off as a reward. Maybe if Justin weren’t still in New Orleans, she wouldn’t need free time, but his presence made it difficult to be so caught up in her work. Sometimes she could almost hear the minutes ticking by, reminding her that soon he would be gone.

&
nbsp; “Do you have another mask like that one?” Bethany looked up to find him smiling in a businesslike manner as he pointed to the mask the young man she had been waiting on held in his hand.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t,” she said with feigned regret. “We’re completely out of sea serpents. That’s probably the last one in the city.”

  “I was so hoping—” he started again.

  “Here, mister, if you want it that badly. . .” The young man pushed the mask at Justin. “We might be back later, but we’ve got a couple of other places to look first.” He grabbed his girlfriend’s arm and left.

  Justin grinned sheepishly as Bethany faced him with her hands on her hips. “Now was that helpful?” she scolded.

  “I was sure he’d jump at the chance to buy it if he thought I wanted it,” he explained.

  “As a psychologist you make a terrific lawyer.” Leaning over the counter, she brushed her lips against his, expecting and receiving a mandatory shiver at even that casual touch. “And as a lawyer you make an even more terrific lover,” she said boldly, running the tips of her fingers down the side of his face.

  “Mmm.. .mmm!” Valerie leaned on the doorframe. “I can see I’m just in time.”

  “Just in time to take over here,” Bethany said.

  Abby was gone. Never one to miss an opportunity for big tourist money, Lamar had taken her to Jackson Square to collect tips as he fiddled. Bethany suspected his actions had more to do with her casual announcement that Justin was coming to lunch than any real desire to have Abby’s help.

  Mardi Gras spirit saturated the air, and in the lively, chaotic French Quarter energy and enthusiasm were running high. Bethany wasn’t oblivious to the special effort her friends were making to give her time with Justin, as if they too had been stung by the carnival love bug.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked as they climbed the steps to her apartment. “I made jambalaya, and we can eat now or sit awhile first.”

  Justin was silent too long, perhaps feeling the tension, too. Without their daughter there to keep them otherwise occupied, their attention was focused solely on each other. There was time now to say all the things that needed to be said. But she suspected he had no idea how to begin.

  “Let’s eat,” he said finally.

  The jambalaya was hot, and Bethany had relaxed her restrictions on alcohol enough to buy a bottle of white wine to go with it. But something was wrong, and they were both aware of it as they toyed with the food, picking pieces of shrimp out of the rice and then burying them.

  “I guess I’m not hungry,” she said finally, pushing her plate back and sipping her wine.

  “We’re both hungry for something else,” Justin said as he stood and pulled her up beside him. “We always are when we’re together, and denying it is hell.”

  The big bed sagged under their combined weight, but neither noticed as they struggled to help each other undress—which made the job more difficult, because they refused to allow the necessary space for pulling clothes off. Their lovemaking was as furious as it had been slow and careful the night of the crawfish boil. They reached for each other with the intensity of those who are threatened by the future. When they were satiated, they lay face to face, finally allowing themselves the luxury of tender caresses.

  “Abby’s going to be back in fifteen minutes,” Bethany said as she checked the bedside clock. “Lamar was very specific about when he was returning with her.”

  “To think I was jealous of that man,” Justin said, his hand brushing her hair back from her face.

  She was pleased by the admission, and she put her fingertips against his lips to be kissed. “We’d better shower and dress,” she said. “Unless you think there’s time. . .”

  “Insatiable,” he teased, ruffling her hair. “I wish I could provide you with all the attention you desire, but if Lamar walks in even one minute early, we might cause our daughter the trauma of a lifetime. I’ll shower first and catch her if I need to so you can take your time.”

  In just a few minutes she indulged in a quick hug as he stepped out of the bathroom after his shower, a skimpy towel wrapped around his waist. “Did you have plans for the afternoon?” she asked.

  “Not really. Did you have something you’d like to do?”

  “As a matter of fact,” she said, watching his face, “I’d like to go to the Sheba Krewe’s parade this afternoon in the suburbs. Those parades are usually less crowded, and I think it would be a fun one for Abby to see. It’s really the first big one of the season.”

  “I hate parades. The last time I went to one willingly I was eight years old.”

  “But you’ve never gone to a parade with me or with the right attitude,” she said. “I think you’ll like it. It’s like nothing else in the world to be there watching that incredible pageantry, with everyone shouting and competing for throws.”

  “I’ll never understand why anyone wants all those plastic beads and fake doubloons.”

  “I’ll never understand why anyone wants to be so serious all the time,” she responded with a gleam in her eye. “I’ve decided I’m going to loosen you up. By the time this week is over, you’ll be a Mardi Gras fanatic, too.”

  “Hell will freeze over first.”

  “Another ice age is predicted,” she said as she padded to the door to let Abby and Lamar into the apartment. “Better send to Chicago for your down jacket.”

  Abby was ecstatic when she learned they were going to a parade. At four, she had only vague memories of parades the year before, and she had been looking forward to this season’s carnival. Bethany’s work kept the excitement of Mardi Gras in front of them all year, but the actual season was something to joyfully anticipate.

  With a tote bag of drinks and snacks, bags for the throws they would catch, sweaters and camera, they drove to the parade route. Because it was a suburban parade there was plenty of parking, and Justin, with analytical zeal, parked in a spot where they could make a quick getaway.

  “A woman’s krewe puts this one on,” Bethany said. “If you’d like to stand in front of me with Abby on your shoulders, you’ll get lots of throws. I’ll stand behind you to pick up your castoffs.”

  “Is that because Justin is so beautiful?” piped Abby.

  “It works every time, or so I hear,” Bethany said.

  “And at the men’s parades, do you stand in front?” Justin asked wryly.

  “Absolutely.”

  The parade was several blocks away, and they could see the first float in the distance. After they found a place to watch Abby was so excited she couldn’t stand still. Bethany gave her a handmade drawstring bag of purple cotton, with “Mardi Gras” in gold-and-green appliqué. New Orleans parades were invariably accompanied by the throwing of favors from the floats. Most of the time the throws were beads and specially manufactured collectible doubloons. But some parades also threw stuffed toys, plastic tumblers with emblems of the krewe sponsoring the parade, candy, plastic spears, even bikini panties. On St. Patrick’s Day, the New Orleans parades threw cabbages to the waiting crowds. Nobody in New Orleans went to a parade just to watch.

  Bethany cautioned Abby, just as other mothers up and down the parade route were cautioning their children. “Remember, kiddo, don’t reach down to pick up anything on the ground. Cover it with your foot first, then reach for it.”

  “I know!”

  “And don’t run out in the street.”

  “I know!”

  They could hear the music from the first marching band, and the truck that checked for overhead clearance rolled by. Although some parades closer to Mardi Gras day had spectators lined up ten or more deep, this parade was less crowded, and their view was unimpeded as the small floats carrying the maids and finally the queen of the court came by. The women were dressed in costumes of gold and silver sequins, with white ostrich plumes on elaborate headdresses. The court in this parade wore thin sequined masks, not to hide their identity from their friends but to add a touch of myster
y.

  With royal dignity the court didn’t throw anything, and by the time the first large float filled with a dozen women dressed as mermaids rolled by, Abby was at fever pitch. “Justin, pick me up!”

  With an expression that made Bethany chuckle, Justin put the little girl on his shoulders. In a minute the air around them was raining doubloons and beads. Bethany scooped throws off the ground that Abby had missed. Sneaking a look at Justin’s face, she began to laugh. He looked like a survivor of a major battle.

  “They loved you, Justin. I’m not sure I’ve seen so many doubloons thrown at one person before.”

  He shot her an irritated glance as Abby began to bounce on his shoulders. “Throw me something, throw me something,” the little girl shouted.

  After three new storms of doubloons, Abby begged to get down. Although she couldn’t see as well on the ground, she was able to pick up more throws that came her way, and after watching a little boy make off with a cup that had been tossed in her direction, she was ready to join the skirmish.

  The bands marching in between the elaborately decorated floats added an audibly cheerful note, and the bright colors and holiday atmosphere of the crowd couldn’t help but work their magic on Justin. Bethany noticed the change when she saw his foot was tapping in time to the music. The band passing by at that moment was playing “Maniac” from the movie Flashdance, and a crowd of young teenagers across the street were break dancing in response.

  Although Justin still wasn’t actively catching throws, he didn’t protest when Bethany slipped several beaded necklaces over his head. “You look more festive now,” she said. And he looked even more festive when the next float came by and threw a cup directly at him. Justin, with all his money, couldn’t resist the lure of the plastic tumbler, and before Bethany knew what was happening—and probably before he did, too—he was out in the street, diving for it.

  After that it was every man, woman and child for himself. Justin, Abby and Bethany scrambled for every throw. Doubloons were covered by dancing feet; beads were snatched from the reach of other bystanders. And the special prize of a stuffed unicorn, which was presented to Abby by a rider on a temporarily halted float, was gloated over as if it were pirate booty.