"I saw Ruby Dumas. Naturally, I was shocked and disappointed. Before I could utter a sound, she unbuttoned her white blouse and began to take it off. Buck Dardar embraced her again."
"What was she wearing at this point?" Mrs. Ironwood asked.
"She was . . . half nude," Mrs. Gray said. "She wore only her skirt."
I saw Deborah Peck's mouth drop open. Miss Weller shook her head in disgust. Mr. Norman only closed his eyelids a bit but kept his face frozen, his lips unmoving, his eyes directed at Mrs. Gray.
"Go on," Mrs. Ironwood instructed.
"I was so astonished and disappointed, I felt weak and nauseated," Mrs. Gray said. I turned away and hurried up the path,"
"After which you called me to make your report. Isn't that true?"
Mrs. Gray looked at me and nodded.
"Yes."
"Thank you."
"It wasn't me, Mrs. Gray," I said softly.
"Quiet. You will have your time to speak," Mrs. Ironwood snapped. "You can leave now, Mrs. Gray," she said, nodding.
"I'm sorry. I had to tell what I saw," she said to me as she stood up. "I'm very disappointed."
I shook my head, my tears building behind my lids.
"After this report was made to me," Mrs. Ironwood began as soon as Mrs. Gray had left, "I called Buck Dardar to this office early in the morning. I confronted him with Mrs. Gray's testimony and I took out Ruby Dumas's file and showed him her picture so he could confirm that the girl Mrs. Gray reported with him in the boathouse was indeed Ruby Dumas. I will now read his sworn and signed statement.″
She picked up a document.
" 'I, Buck Dardar, do hereby admit that on the occasion noted and on a number of previous occasions,' " she read, raising her eyebrows and looking at the panel, " 'I did have intimate relations with Ruby Dumas. Miss Dumas came to my quarters on at least a half dozen previous occasions to flirt and offer herself to me. I confess to accepting her advances. On the occasion cited, Ruby Dumas arrived at the boathouse at seven-thirty and she didn't leave until after nine-thirty. I do regret my involvement with this student and accept the punishment rendered by Mrs. Ironwood on this date.'
"As you can see," she concluded, handing the document to Miss Weller, "he has signed it."
Miss Weller gazed at the paper, nodded, and then passed it to Mr. Norman. He glanced at it and handed it to Deborah, who held it the longest before returning it to Mrs. Ironwood. Looking as satisfied as a raccoon with its belly full, she sat back in her chair.
"You may offer your defense now," Mrs. Ironwood said.
I turned toward the panel. "I don't doubt that Mrs. Gray saw someone go to the boathouse last night at seven-thirty, and I know she believes she's telling the truth, but she is mistaken. I was not in there. I was—"
"I'll tell them where you were," we heard. I spun around in my chair to see Miss Stevens leading Louis through the door.
"What is the meaning of this?" Mrs. Ironwood demanded.
I think I was just as shocked as she was. Louis, in a jacket and tie, his hair brushed neatly, nodded.
"I'm here to testify for the defendant" He smiled in my direction. "Ruby Dumas," he said. "May I?"
"Of course not. This is a school matter and I—"
"But I have information pertaining to the case," he insisted. "Is that the witness chair?" He nodded in the right direction.
Mrs. Ironwood threw a furious, hot glance at Miss Stevens and then looked at the panel, all of whom were looking at her and waiting.
"This is highly irregular," she said.
"What's irregular about it? This is a hearing, and a hearing is the place to bring evidence, is it not?" Louis asked. "I'm sure you want to get at the truth," he added with a smile.
Everyone looked from Louis to Mrs. Ironwood. Louis moved toward the chair when she was silent. He sat down and pulled himself up comfortably.
"My name is Louis Turnbull. I am Mrs. Clairborne's grandson, and I reside in the Clairborne mansion, as it is known." He turned in Mrs. Ironwood's direction. "Do I have to give my age, occupation?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Louis. You have no business being here."
"I have business being here," he replied firmly. "Now then, as I understand it, the issue is whether or not Ruby Dumas was at the boathouse last night at seven-thirty and after, correct? Well, I can assure the panel she wasn't. She was with me. She arrived at seven-fifteen and remained until nine o'clock."
A leaden silence fell over the room, making the tick-tock of the grandfather clock seem much louder than it was. "Isn't that the issue?" Louis pursued.
"Very well. If you wish to carry on like this: How can you be sure of the exact time?" Mrs. Ironwood challenged. "You are blind." She gave the panel a look of superiority.
Louis turned to the panel as well. "I have, it is true, been suffering with an eyesight problem. But of late, I have made significant progress," he said, then glanced toward me and smiled. He turned toward the grandfather clock in the corner of the office. "Let's see. According to my cousin's office clock, it is now four-twenty . . . two," he said. He was exactly right. I looked at the panel. All of them were impressed.
"Of course, I can have you verify all of this by calling in our butler, Otis, who greeted Mademoiselle Dumas and saw her out at the end of the evening. He also served us tea while she visited. So you see, there is no physical way for her to have been at the boathouse last night at seven-thirty, eight, eight-thirty, nine," he chanted.
"A well-respected member of my faculty says otherwise, and I have a signed confession—"
"Please go out to the car and ask Otis to come in," Louis said to Miss Stevens.
"That won't be necessary," Mrs. Ironwood countered quickly.
"But if my testimony is under some doubt . . ." He turned toward Mrs. Ironwood. "If need be, I'm sure I can convince my grandmother to corroborate my testimony too."
She stared at him. The fury that built in her face had turned her cheeks red and spread down her neck, making it crimson as well.
"You're not doing anyone any good, Louis," Mrs. Ironwood muttered.
"Except Mademoiselle Dumas," he said.
She bit down on her lower lip and then sat back, swallowing her rage.
"Very well. Under the circumstances, with this contradiction of facts, I don't see how we can ask our panel to render a clear judgment. I'm sure you all agree," she said. Mr. Norman, Miss Weller, and Deborah, her eyes wide, all nodded.
"Accordingly, I am declaring this hearing ended without concluding the question. I want to emphasize that this is not to say that the student in question has been exonerated. It's merely a declaration that a clear conclusion is not possible at this time."
She looked at me.
"You are dismissed," she said. Then she turned away, her frustration causing her to fume so intently, I thought I saw smoke come out of her ears. My heart was pounding so hard, the thumping echoing in my ears, I was sure everyone in the room heard it as clearly. "I said, the hearing is ended," Mrs. Ironwood snapped when I didn't get up quickly. I stood up.
Louis rose and walked out with me and Miss Stevens.
"Why did you bring him, Miss Stevens?" I asked as soon as we were out of the inner office. "Mrs. Ironwood is so angry she's liable to take it out on you."
"I thought about it and decided I couldn't lose my best artist," she said, smiling. "Besides, once Louis heard what was happening to you, I couldn't have kept him away, could I, Louis?"
"Absolutely not," he said, smiling.
"And your eyesight is so improved, Louis!" I exclaimed. "You read the time to the minute."
He smiled again, and Miss Stevens laughed.
"What's so funny?"
"Louis anticipated being challenged with his eyesight and asked me the exact time just before we entered the office," Miss Stevens explained.
"I knew if I was off a minute or so it would still be impressive," he said.
"But you weren't. You were right on the minute," I crie
d. I hugged him. "Thank you, Louis."
"It was fun. I've finally done something for someone else," he said.
"And you'll probably get in trouble with your grandmother for it," I said.
"It doesn't matter. I'm tired of being treated like a child. I can make my own decisions and answer for my own actions," he declared proudly.
We continued down the hallway toward the exit, the three of us holding hands. Suddenly I burst out laughing.
"Why are you laughing?" Louis asked, a smile of anticipation on his face.
"My sister, Gisselle. I can't wait to tell her and see the expression on her face."
"What!" Gisselle shrilled. "You're not expelled from Greenwood?"
"The hearing ended without conclusion, thanks to Louis and Miss Stevens. You should have been there, Gisselle," I said, so full of self-satisfaction my cheeks glowed shamelessly. "You would have so enjoyed the look on Mrs. Ironwood's face when she had to swallow her hard words and threats."
"I wouldn't have enjoyed it. I thought we were going home! I even packed most of my things!"
"We are going home soon . . . for the holidays," I sang, and left her burning with almost as much frustration as Mrs. Ironwood.
Just as word of the accusations and my hearing had swept through the school with the speed of a hurricane, so did the news of my not being expelled. The entire episode had an effect opposite to the one Mrs. Ironwood had anticipated, I was sure. Instead of making me a pariah in the eyes of the other students, I was suddenly cast as a heroine. I had withstood the fire and brimstone, the fury and power of our feared principal. I was the David who had battled our Goliath and survived. Wherever I went, the girls gathered around me to hear the details, but I didn't gloat, and I know they were disappointed in my answers.
"It wasn't very pleasant," I said. "I don't like to keep talking about it. A number of people were hurt by all this."
I thought about poor Buck Dardar, who had lost his job, and I bore no anger toward him for signing that false confession. I was sure he had been intimidated and had done it only under the dire threat of being arrested and disgraced. But Mrs. Gray remained a mystery, a mystery that wasn't to be solved until after I had attended her class the next day.
"Ruby," she called as soon as the bell to end the period rang.
I waited for the others to leave before approaching her. "Yes, Mrs. Gray?"
"I want you to know that I didn't make up my story," she said firmly and with such sincerity, I couldn't take my eyes off hers. "I am aware of the testimony Mrs. Clairborne's grandson gave at the hearing, but it doesn't change what I saw and what I said. I don't lie, nor do I conspire against anyone."
"I know, Mrs. Gray," I said. "But I wasn't there. Honest, I wasn't."
"I'm sorry," she said. "But I don't believe you." She turned away and I left with a heavy heart.
Mrs. Gray's face of firmness haunted me for the remainder of the day. It was almost as if Mrs. Ironwood had cast a spell over her and caused her to see what she wanted her to see and say what she wanted her to say. How I wished I had Nina with me for only a few minutes so she could concoct some voodoo ritual or charm to change things.
I recalled Grandmère Catherine once telling me about a man who had lost his five-year-old daughter in a boating accident in the swamp. Even though her body was recovered, he continued to believe she was lost out in the bayou, swearing he heard her calling to him at night and even swearing that he saw her from time to time.
"He wanted so much for it to be true," she told me, "that to him it was true, and no one could tell him otherwise."
Maybe Mrs. Gray didn't have that clear a view and wasn't as positive when she first told Mrs. Ironwood, and maybe Mrs. Ironwood convinced her it was I she had seen.
It continued to trouble me. On the way back to the dorm at the end of the day, I stopped to gaze down at the boathouse. If only I could find Buck, I thought, and get him to tell me the truth. Maybe I could get him to tell Mrs. Gray. I hated the fact that she continued to think so poorly of me.
I was surprised to find that Gisselle wasn't back in the dorm yet when I arrived, but Samantha appeared soon after to tell me Gisselle had been made to remain with Mrs. Weisenberg and review her terrible math scores. I knew she would be in a fury when she finally returned.
I had unpacked all the things I had packed just before the hearing and then peeked into Gisselle's room to see if she had done the same. Her room was a mess. In her frustration and rage, she had tossed everything out of her suitcase. Dresses, skirts, and blouses lay over chairs and the bed, and some garments were even on the floor. I started to pick things up, folding and hanging her clothing neatly. As I placed a silk white blouse with pearl buttons on a hanger, I paused, recalling some of Mrs. Gray's testimony.
Didn't she say the girl had unbuttoned her white blouse? I wore no white blouse; I wore only my Greenwood uniform. My eyes drifted down to Gisselle's shoes lined up on the floor of the closet. Something caught my eye. My heart began to pitter-patter as I knelt slowly and picked up the loafers, the bottoms and the sides of which were caked with mud. But how . . .
The sound of my sister's loud voice declaring her complaints about being kept after school preceded her arrival in the quad. I heard her ranting as Kate wheeled her down the corridor. I stood up, holding my breath. My mind was reeling with possibilities, thoughts that seemed too fantastic. Just before she was wheeled to the door of her room, I backed into the closet and closed the sliding door almost all the way.
"Where's my sister?" Gisselle demanded.
"She was in your room," Samantha told her. "Straightening up your clothes."
Gisselle gazed in and smirked.
"Who asked her to? Anyway, she's not in here now." Samantha came up beside her and looked into the room. "Oh. She must have left when I was in the bathroom." "Great. I want her to know just what that horrible Mrs. Weisenberg made me do until I got the answers right."
"Should I look for her?" Samantha asked.
"No. I'll tell her later. I have to get some rest," she said, and wheeled herself into the room, slamming the door behind her. She sat for a moment, staring at her bed. Then she reached back and snapped the lock on the door. I held my breath. As soon as she had locked the door, she stood up without wobbling, without much effort.
And I realized my sister could walk!
I slid open the closet door slowly, without much sound, but she sensed my presence and turned. Her eyes widened in astonishment, but I was sure they weren't as wide as mine.
"What are you doing?" she gasped. "Spying on me?"
"You can stand and you can walk. Mon Dieu, Gisselle!" She sat herself back down in the wheelchair.
"So what?" she said after a moment. "I don't want anyone to know it just yet."
"But why? How long have you been able to stand and walk?"
"Awhile," she admitted.
"But why have you kept it a secret?"
"I get treated better," she confessed.
"Gisselle . . . how could you do this? All these people, everyone slaving over you . . . Could you walk before Daddy died? Could you?" I demanded when she didn't respond, but she didn't have to respond. I knew she could. "How horrible! You could have made him feel so much better."
"I was going to tell him as soon as we were permitted to go home and leave this terrible place, but as long as I had to stay here, I wasn't going to tell anyone," she said.
"How did it happen? I mean, when did you realize you could stand?"
"I was always trying to do it, and one day I just did." I sat down on her bed, my mind in turmoil.
"Oh, stop making such a big thing over it," she ordered. She stood up and walked to the closet. The sight of her walking so easily seemed so incongruous. It was as if I had fallen into a dream. At full height again and able to use her limbs, Gisselle appeared changed to me. It was as if she had grown taller and stronger while confined to her wheelchair. I watched her brush her hair for a few moments, everything I had
suspected now rushing over me.
"It was you, wasn't it?" I cried, pointing at her.
"Me? Whatever are you talking about now, Ruby?" she asked, pretending ignorance.
"It was you who was with Buck Dardar that night, wasn't it? That's why your shoes are caked with mud. You snuck down there and—"
"So what? He was the only game in town, although I must admit, he was quite a good lover. I hated to see him go, but when you were accused of being there, I thought it was perfect. Finally we'd get out of here too. Then your own loverboy had to appear and get you off the hook. Crummy luck."
"Did Buck think you were me? Did you tell him your name was Ruby?"
"I did, but I don't know whether he believed it or not. Let's just say he was happy to pretend I was anyone I wanted to be as long as I appeared."
"How often . . . All those times you kept this door locked," I said, turning to her door. I looked at the window.
"That's right. I would crawl out the window and have my rendezvous. Pretty exciting, huh? I bet you wish you had thought of it now."
"I do not." I pulled myself up. "You're going to march out of here right now and tell the truth," I said. "Especially to Mrs. Gray."
"Oh, am I? Well I'm not ready to let people know I can stand and walk," she said, returning to her chair.
"I don't care if you're ready or not. You will tell," I assured her, but she didn't seem intimidated. She wheeled herself toward me and looked up at me with hard, cold eyes.
"I will not," she said, "and if you so much as breathe a word of this to anyone, I'll tell Mrs. Ironwood about you and your precious Miss Stevens. That oughta do her in for sure."
"What? What are you saying?"
She smiled.
"Everyone knows about pretty little Miss Stevens who's afraid of boys but who likes to be around girls," she said, smiling. "Especially you, huh?"
It was as if a match had been lit in my stomach. The flame of anger singed my heart and sent smoke into my brain. I gasped.
"That's a disgusting, terrible lie, and if you tell anyone such a thing . . . ″
"Don't worry. I'll keep your secret as long as you keep mine," she said. "Is it a deal?"
I stared down at her, my mouth open, but words not coming, my tongue numb.
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