* * *
“STAND STILL, ABBY, or I won’t be able to fasten the headdress.” Asking a child to stand still on Mardi Gras morning before the sun had risen was unfair, and Bethany knew it. But on Mardi Gras anything seemed possible. She picked up the satin headband with peacock feathers sewn to it and carefully fastened it with hairpins to Abby’s long hair. “Do you have your mask, sweetheart?”
Abby ran to her drawer in their shared dresser and found the soft-sculptured mask Bethany had made for her months before. “Here,” she said excitedly.
“Well, you’ll finally get to wear it,” Bethany said. “And you’ll look wonderful. Even Justin won’t know who you are.”
“I already told Daddy what I’d be wearing.”
“Daddy?” Bethany sat down on the bed, staring at the little girl. “You’re calling him ‘Daddy’ now?”
“Well, he is my daddy,” Abby said in a tone that made it clear she thought she was talking to an idiot.
“Yes, he certainly is,” Bethany agreed.
“Aren’t you going to wear your costume?” Abby asked, closing the subject.
“Yes.” Bethany rose and walked to the closet to pull out her own disguise. After much thought, she had decided to go as the spirit of Mardi Gras. She had stitched a flowing robe of purple voile that was slit up each side to well above her knees, exposing tempting views of flesh. Draped in folds at different angles yards and yards of gold lame and emerald-green chiffon, spotted with clusters of tiny sequins and rhinestones, covered the rest of her. Sewing the costume had taken the better part of a month, which was nothing compared to the time many people in New Orleans, and especially in the French Quarter, spent on theirs.
To complement the robe Bethany had splurged on supplies for a two-tiered mask of golden dyed ostrich plumes and elaborate beadwork. Experimenting with the design, she had rationalized the time as development of her art. But the reality was that she wanted Justin to remember her this way: proud, dramatic and absolutely beautiful. She had designed the mask to sweep around each eye, leaving the rest of her face bare. And she had cut the eyeholes large enough to clearly reveal her eyes. The mask hid nothing and accentuated everything.
Her buzzer sounded, and she pushed the button to allow Justin access to the courtyard. Why is my hand shaking, she wondered. Her decision had been made. She swung the mask up on her head, smoothing her dark hair around it. It was easier somehow to face him with her mask on.
“You’re both stunning,” he murmured as he stepped into the apartment. Abby in her royal-blue satin pajamas decorated with gold-and-green embroidery and rhinestones, and Bethany in Mardi Gras colors with the feathered mask looked like creatures from another, more gracious and exotic planet. He looked bewitched.
“Where’s your costume, Daddy?”
Bethany saw Justin’s quick grin at his new title, and she was glad for him, even if she was still trying to harden her heart. “Your mommy hasn’t given it to me yet.”
After she’d made the decision to put him out of her life, Bethany had stored the partially completed costume in the back of her closet. But the only projects she ever left unfinished were those that were bad ideas in the first place, and the costume had been taking shape so beautifully she had finally removed it from the closet and finished it.
“I’ll get it for you,” she said with little enthusiasm. Justin would be difficult to resist in his new finery. She lay the costume on the bed and left the room, waiting while he dressed. A few minutes later her heart sank when he stepped into the living room.
His torso was covered by a white satin shirt, bared almost to his waist to reveal his broad chest. The flowing sleeves were caught at his wrists by narrow bands that called attention to his strong slender hands. With artistic precision, she had trailed embroidery down the neckline of the shirt using gold and silver thread in designs she’d repeated on the cuffs. The black velvet trousers were cuffed at the knees and worn over black tights that hugged the strong legs under them. But the truly exceptional thing about the costume was the cape—silky black velvet lined with shimmering silver-shot white satin. Yards wide, it swirled around him as he walked, reaching almost to the middle of his thighs.
Swallowing hard, she tried to ignore the sinking sensation inside her. No one should look that spectacular.
She cleared her throat. “Here’s your mask.” She handed him a black coque-feather creation, designed to hide the upper half of his face, leaving the sensuous mouth free. Once he put it on, the feathers stood around his face in spikes and trailed down to the neckline of his cape and over his shoulders. The entire costume was simple, with graceful masculine lines, but Justin, wearing it, looked superb.
“What do you think?” he asked, feet wide apart and hands clasped behind his back like a pirate on the deck of the Jolly Roger.
“I think it’s something else,” she said in the understatement of the year.
“I think we make quite a pair,” he said in a rumbling voice.
“Yes, well. . .” She picked up her tote bag of Mardi Gras necessities and swung it over her shoulder. “Let’s go.” They started out the door, when she remembered she had forgotten something. Returning to the apartment, she opened the door to her workroom and disappeared, coming back with the white mask decorated with tiny crystals that she had dubbed the “Snow Queen.”
“It’s for your mother,” she explained as she hurried back to join them. “It’ll look perfect with her silver hair.”
Justin blocked her way, raising a hand to her face to trace an unhurried line around the edges of her mask. “Have I told you lately what you mean to me?” he asked in his silky voice.
Caught completely unaware, she just stared at him, speechless and mystified. Finally she sniffed in an attempt to reset the atmosphere. “Not in the past five years,” she responded with intended sarcasm. But her voice didn’t quite make the impression she wanted; the wobble in it was entirely too vulnerable.
“Remind me to tell you later,” he promised, reaching to place his fingers possessively in the small of her back to help her down the stairs.
Justin’s house lay directly along the parade route, and although it was only just after seven o’clock in the morning, crowds were already lining the streets. “I hope we can save a place in front so Abby can see the parade,” Bethany said. She and Justin had removed their masks, and the feathered creations sat between them, along with the Snow Queen mask, like jungle birds on a tree limb.
“Homer and Mrs. Waters have been working on that since well before dawn. You’ll love what we’ve rigged up.”
What they had “rigged up” was a high platform painted gold, with Mardi Gras banners decorating it. Complete with railing, deck chairs and a small table, the platform had been assembled directly in front of the house, creating an ideal spot to see the parade and beg for throws.
“I’m having trouble believing this, Justin,” Bethany hooted as she watched Abby climb the step ladder to the platform. “How long did they work on it?”
“Actually, I built it. It goes together in sections, and Mrs. Waters staked out the territory while Homer and I assembled it. Their grandchildren might join us later. I thought Abby should see the parades in style, and I knew she’d want to be closer than our front steps. “
Justin’s matter-of-fact tone contrasted with what appeared to be a blush. Justin blushing? Despite herself Bethany was entranced.
“Look at her. She loves it, Justin. She’ll never forget this Mardi Gras. But she’ll be spoiled for all the others.”
“Well, I hope she’ll be using it every year.”
“I don’t think I’m going to be up to helping Homer assemble it next year,” she said. “You may have to fly back from Chicago just to show us how.”
It was only seven o’clock in the morning, and already she was asking him to come back. What had happened to her resolve to put him out of her life?
“I don’t expect to be flying anywhere next Mardi Gras. I have my pla
ns for that week made already.”
Thanks, but, no thanks, she translated. Justin was playing the game better than she was. At least he was honest about keeping distance between them.
She watched him stride to the platform and lift Abby to the ground. The three of them walked to the house, where Louise had an elaborate breakfast waiting.
“Did you see what Daddy built?” Abby lifted her arms to be picked up by her obliging grandmother. Kissing the child, Louise extended an arm to Bethany for a quick hug.
“Happy Mardi Gras, dear,” she said.
“I brought you a present.” Bethany presented her with the Snow Queen mask.
“It’s sensational. I’ve never had anything so lovely.” And she obviously was delighted, because no one saw her without the mask for the remainder of the day.
Inside they found a table groaning with multiple dishes of mouth-watering food. “I’ve invited some others in to eat throughout the morning,” Louise told Bethany.
“Lamar and Danielle among them,” Justin added to reassure her.
They filled plates with croissants, scrambled eggs, grillades, which were morsels of veal in a spicy tomato gravy served over grits. For Abby there was the ever-present king cake, since Mardi Gras Day was the last day it would be served until Twelfth Night of the following year. Mimosas with French champagne flowed freely.
Abby flew around the table, taking bits and pieces to snack on, but she was too excited to sit still. “Aren’t we missing a parade?”
“The Zulu parade’s going on right now,” Bethany explained between mouthfuls, “but we’re going to have to miss it this year. It doesn’t come by the house.” As Abby’s face fell, Bethany added the ultimate New Orleans bribe. “Valerie’s going to try to get you a Zulu coconut. Her uncle’s in the parade.” The Zulu Krewe was one of two black krewes that paraded for carnival, and they were famous for the hand-decorated coconuts they handed out to a select few during their parade. People had been known to do almost anything to get one.
“You’ll see plenty of floats, darling,” Louise inserted tactfully. “Do you have your bag ready?” Abby pulled her grandmother into the drawing room, where their Mardi Gras supplies were stored.
Bethany found she and Justin were alone, and she was curious. “Living right on the parade route, and having a mother who obviously loves this sort of thing, how did you miss the parades when you were growing up?”
“Mardi Gras was strictly a business obligation to my father, not a time to enjoy ourselves. He wanted me to grow up fast, and he succeeded.”
“That’s something we have in common, and I never realized it before. We both grew up too fast.”
“I think we have a lot more in common than you’ve realized,” he said softly, and she saw he was smiling.
She looked away. “Madeline says we’re both perfectionists.”
“Yes, she’s told me that, too.”
“Not only have you gained a daughter, it looks like you’ve gained a mentor.”
“I could have done worse. Maybe we should both have spent more time listening to Madeline’s thoughts these past few weeks.”
There was no time to explore that. Abby could contain herself no longer and insisted on being taken out to the crowded sidewalk to look at costumes. A family of tacos were strolling down the street, complete with a walking jar of hot sauce. The main characters from the Wizard of Oz were standing in a group around a ladder they had set up on the neutral ground next to a band of Indians who had erected a tepee for shelter. All up and down the avenue a fantasy land held sway.
Whole families had coordinated costumes, with everything from rollicking clowns to fruit salad with grapes made from dozens of purple balloons. Walking clubs in elaborate dress strutted up and down in front of the expanding crowds, and everywhere a few feet of empty ground had once existed were blankets, ladders, chairs and picnic baskets. There was so much to see that no one was in a hurry for the Rex parade to arrive.
Arrive it did, however, and a cheer went up, along with concerted scurrying to gain inches closer to the curb. In contrast Justin’s platform was a deserted island, with enough room for the whole family and the last-minute guests who arrived bringing Homer’s youngest granddaughter, a girl Abby’s age.
The next hour was filled with laughter as people up and down St. Charles vied for throws and greeted carnival royalty. The Dumontier platform was weighted down with Rex medallions and doubloons. Unlike other parts of the parade routes, the St. Charles section was mostly family groups, and less raunchy then in other areas of the city. Locally this was known as the two-mile family picnic, and today’s scene fit the description.
Following the Rex parade came the largest parading organizations of all: the truck parades. Composed of groups of people who rented platform trucks and decorated them to their own liking, the truck parades were notoriously generous. The Dumontier platform and the surrounding area received a veritable hurricane of throws, and Abby and her new friend quickly ran out of room in their bags, resorting instead to shopping bags contributed by Mrs. Waters.
“I’m not sure I can stand anymore,” Bethany finally confessed to Justin, “but I think Abby plans to stay until the last truck rolls by.” A stuffed plaid dog landed at the little girl’s feet, and she squealed with delight, as if her shopping bag weren’t already half full. “See what I mean?”
“My mother’s volunteered to stay with her. How would you like to spend some time in the Quarter before all the good costumes disappear?”
It was the kind of invitation she had planned to refuse, yet the magic of the day had wound itself into her heart, too. “What about Lamar and Danielle?” was as close to saying no as she could come.
“If they ever arrive my mother will take care of them. I have a feeling they may be celebrating Mardi Gras in their own way.” His hand snaked under the artfully drooping feathers that covered the nape of her neck and gently massaged the tight muscles. “Come with me, Bethany. I want to spend the rest of the day with you.”
It seemed easier to agree than to make a fuss. Or at least that’s what she told herself. They said their goodbyes, thanking Louise, who asked permission to let Abby to spend the night. Since the French Quarter was at its wildest on Mardi Gras day, Bethany readily agreed, glad to have Abby out of the melee.
Homer had parked his car on a side street, and he dropped them as close to the French Quarter as he could get them. Holding hands to stay together they walked the rest of the way. On Canal Street they saw the same floats that had already chugged down St. Charles. Stepping on discarded beads and ignoring the pushing, shoving bystanders, they wove their way to the Quarter without speaking.
The Quarter had gone crazy. On Bourbon Street, every inch was populated by screaming, laughing, merrymakers. Elaborate costumes were everywhere, more intricate and costly than the homier ones found on St. Charles. Contests were held each year, sponsored by the local gay bars, and participants specialized in the outrageous. On Mardi Gras Day, the naughty was acceptable, and the costumes, or lack of them, would normally make even a Bourbon Street stripper blush.
Justin and Bethany wandered arm in arm through the crushing throngs, at times not able to move except where the crowds led them. She pointed out several people wearing masks she had designed, and he pointed out people who would probably need his legal services the next day. They caught beads tossed off of balconies and added them to the heavy collection of necklaces they already sported. Finally Justin guided Bethany down a less crowded side street, nudging her to stand against a brick wall as he pinned her there with a hand on each side of her masked face.
“Let’s go to your place.” Removing his mask, he reached toward her and lifted hers off her shining hair. “It’s time we talked.”
She was exhausted, and it seemed the simplest thing to do. Justin guided her through the throngs that crowded Royal Street, and she unlocked the iron gate to her courtyard. Inside, her apartment was a quiet oasis from the rowdy crowds.
“Let me fix you something to drink,” she said politely.
“Make it something strong.”
The strongest thing she had was wine, left over from their jambalaya luncheon, and she brought him a glass, choosing iced tea for herself. Leaning against the window, she waited for him to begin.
He finished the wine in silence, getting up to pour himself another glass before he spoke. “I thought this would be easier, but I’ve never been good at expressing my feelings.”
She couldn’t resist. “I hadn’t noticed.”
Her answer was greeted with a wry grin. “Anyway, it would be easier if you’d come over here and sit next to me.”
Not wanting to appear anxious, she moved to the sofa and sat on the edge away from him. “Better?” she asked coolly.
Warm hands found their way around her waist, and he pulled her back to rest against his bared chest. The position was entirely too intimate, and she struggled to move away, but Justin’s grip was firm. “Please stay here,” he said. “Please?” She went limp, knowing that a struggle would seem ridiculous.
“I suppose passive resistance is better than active,” he said. “This will have to do for a start.”
“What do you want to tell me, Justin?” She could feel his lips against her hair, and his arms tightened around her as if he was afraid she might struggle again when she heard his words.
“Something I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time but was afraid to. That I want you, I need you, that I love you and want to spend the rest of my days with you.” His head was buried in her hair, and his hands stroked soft caresses under the fabric of her costume. “Marry me, Bethany,” he said. “Share my life.”
The words weren’t what she had expected. Despite the way he had acted today she had been sure that Justin, in his analytical manner, was going to explain why they were a mistake together. She had thought he would patiently, kindly, list the reasons they shouldn’t continue their hazardous intimacy. Disoriented by his words, she was unable to put them into focus. It was as if she had awakened at midnight to find the sun shining brightly. She couldn’t form an answer.
The Unmasking Page 24
