blink.'
"I pleaded with him to be more sensible and he
continued to mock me for being too sensible. 'Women
don't like men to be reasonable and sensible and
logical all the time, Pierre,' he said They want a little
danger, a little insecurity. If you want to win Daphne,
take her out here on a day like this and let her scream
as the spray hits her face and the sailboat tips and
totters like it's doing now,' he cried.
"But the storm grew worse than even he expected. I was angry at him for putting us in this unnecessary danger. I was angry and jealous and during our battle against the storm, when he was struggling with the sail . . ." He sighed, closed his eyes, and then concluded, "I sent the jib flying around and it struck him in the head. It wasn't an accident,"
he confessed, and lowered his head to his hands. "Oh, Daddy." I reached up and took his hand as
he sobbed. "I'm sure you didn't mean to hurt him so
badly. I'm sure you regretted it the moment you did
it."
"Yes," he said, lifting his face from his palms.
"I did. But that didn't change things and look where he
is and what he is now. Look at what he was," he said,
lifting one of the silver framed photographs. "My
beautiful brother." Tears of remembrance clouded his
eyes as he gazed at him. Then he sighed so deeply, I
thought his heart had given out, and lowered his chin
to his chest.
"He's still your beautiful brother, Daddy. And I
think that he could make enough progress to leave that
place. I really do. When I spoke to him and told him
things, I felt he really understood."
"Did you?" Daddy's eyes lit up as he raised his
head again. "Oh, how I wish that were true. I'd give
anything now. . all my wealth, if that were true." "It is, Daddy. You must go to him more often.
Maybe you should get him better treatment, find
another doctor, another place," I suggested. "They
don't seem to be doing anything more than making
him comfortable and taking your money," I said
bitterly.
"Yes. Maybe." He paused and looked at me and
smiled. "You are a very lovely young lady, Ruby. If I
was to believe in any forgiveness, it would be that you
were sent here to me as an indication of that. I don't
deserve you."
"I was almost shut away, too, Daddy," I said,
returning to my original theme.
"Yes," he said. "Tell me more about that." I described how Daphne had tricked me into
accompanying her to the institution and all that had
followed after-ward. He listened intently, growing
more and more upset.
"You've got to get hold of yourself, Daddy," I
said. "She just told me she might have you committed,
too. Don't let her do these things to you and to me and
even to Gisselle."
"Yes," he said. "You're right. I've wallowed in
self-pity too long and let things get out of hand." "We've got to end all the lying, Daddy. We've
got to cast the lies off like too much weight on a boat
or a canoe. The lies are sinking us," I told him. He
nodded. I stood up.
"Gisselle has to know the truth, Daddy, the
truth about our birth. Daphne shouldn't be afraid of
the truth either. Let her be our mother because of her
actions and not because of a mountain of lies." Daddy sighed.
"You're right." He rose, brushed back his hair,
and straightened his tie, tightening the knot. Then he
stuffed his shirt into his pants neatly. "I'm going down
to speak with Daphne. She won't do anything like this
to you again, Ruby. I promise."
"And I'll go in to see Gisselle and tell her the
truth, but she won't believe me, Daddy. You'll have to
come up and speak with her, too," I told him. He
nodded.
"I will." He kissed me and held me for a
moment. "Gabrielle would be so proud of you, so
proud."
He straightened up, pulled back his shoulders,
and left. I gazed at Uncle Jean's photographs for a
moment and then I went to tell my sister who her
mother really was.
"Where have you been?" Gisselle demanded.
"Mother's been home for hours and hours. I kept
asking for you and they kept telling me you weren't
here. Then Mother came by and told me you ran
away. I knew you wouldn't stay away long," she
added confidently. "Where would you go, back to the
bayou and live with those dirty swamp people?" Because I didn't say anything immediately, her
smile of self-satisfaction evaporated.
"Why are you standing there like that? Where
were you?" she wailed. "I needed you. I can't stand
that nurse anymore."
"Mother lied to you, Gisselle," I said calmly. "Lied?"
I walked over to her bed and sat on it to face
her in her wheelchair.
"I didn't run away," I said. "Don't you
remember? We were going to the institution to see
Uncle Jean, only--"
"Only what?"
"She had other intentions. She brought me there
to leave me there as a patient," I said. "I was tricked
and locked up like some mentally disturbed person." "You were?" Her eyes widened.
"A nice young man helped me escape. I've
already told Daddy what she did."
Gisselle shook her head in disbelief.
"I can't believe she would do such a thing." "I can," I replied quickly. "Because she's not
really our mother."
"What?" Gisselle started to smile, but I stopped
her and seized her full attention when I reached out to
take her hand into mine.
"You and I were born in the bayou, Gisselle.
Years ago, Daddy would go there with our
grandfather Dumas to hunt. He saw and fell in love
with our real mother, Gabrielle Landry, and he made
her pregnant. Grandpere Dumas wanted a grandchild,
and Daphne couldn't have any, so he made a bargain
with our other grandfather, Grandpere Jack, to buy the
child. Only, there were two of us. Grandmere
Catherine kept me a secret and Grandpere Jack gave
you to the Dumas family."
Gisselle said nothing for a moment and then
pulled her hand from mine.
"You are crazy," she said, "if you thinkI'll ever
believe such a story."
"It's true," I said calmly. "The story of the
kidnapping was invented after I turned up here to keep
people believing Daphne was our real mother." Gisselle wheeled herself back, shaking her
head. "I'm not a Cajun, too. I'm not," she declared. "Cajun, Creole, rich, poor, that's not important,
Gisselle. The truth is important. It's time to face it and
go on," I said dryly. I was very tired now, the heavy
weight of one of the most emotional and difficult days
of my life finally settling over my shoulders. "I never
met our mother because she died right after we were
born, but from everything Grandmere Catherine told
me about her and from what Daddy told me, I know
we would have loved her dearly. She was very
beautiful."
Gisselle shook her head, but my quiet<
br />
revelation had begun to sink in and her lips trembled,
too. I saw her eyes begin to cloud.
"Wait," I said, and opened our adjoining door. I
went to the nightstand and found Mother's picture and
brought it to her. "Her name was Gabrielle," I said,
showing the picture to Gisselle. She glanced at it
quickly and then turned away.
"I don't want to look at some Cajun woman you
say is our mother."
"She is. And what's more. . . she had another
child . . . we have a half brother. . . Paul."
"You're crazy. You ARE crazy. You do belong in the institution. I want Daddy. I want Daddy!
Daddy! Daddy!" she screamed.
Mrs. Warren came running from her room. "What's going on now?" she demanded. "I want my father. Get my father."
"I'm not a maid around here.
"GET HIM!" Gisselle cried. Her face turned as
red as a beet as she struggled to shout with all her
might. Mrs. Warren looked at me.
"I'll get him," I said, and left Gisselle with her
nurse cajoling her to calm down.
Daddy and Daphne were down in the parlor.
Daphne was sitting on the sofa, looking surprisingly
subdued. Daddy stood in front of her, his hands on his
hips, looking much stronger. I gazed from him to
Daphne, who shifted her eyes from me guiltily. "I told Gisselle the truth," I said.
"Are you satisfied now?" Daphne fired at
Daddy. "I warned you she would eventually destroy
the tender fabric that held this family together. I
warned you."
"I wanted her to tell Gisselle," he said. "What?"
"It's time we all faced the truth, no matter how
painful, Daphne. Ruby is right. We can't go on living in a world of lies. What you did to her was bad. But what I did to her was even worse. I should never have
made her lie, too."
"That's easy for you to say, Pierre," Daphne
retorted, her lips trembling and her eyes unexpectedly
tearing. "In this society, you will be forgiven for your
indiscretion. It's almost expected for you to have an
affair, but what about me? How am I to face society
now?" she moaned. She was crying. I never thought
I'd see tears emerge from those stone cold eyes, but
she was feeling so sorry for herself, she couldn't
prevent it.
In a way, despite all she had done to me, I felt
sorry for her, too. Her world, a world built on
falsehoods, on deceits, and propped up with blocks
and blocks of fabrications was crumbling right before
her eyes and she couldn't stop it.
"We all have a lot of mending to do, Daphne. I,
especially, have to find the strength to repair the
damage I've done to people I love."
"Yes, you do," she wailed.
He nodded. "But so do you. You know, you're
not totally innocent in all this?'
She looked up at him sharply.
"We have to find ways to forgive each other if
we're to go on," he said.
He pulled back his shoulders.
"I'd better go up to Gisselle," he said. "And then
afterward, I'd better go see my brother. I'll go to him
as many times as I have to until I've gotten him to
forgive me and to start his real recovery."
Daphne looked away. Daddy smiled at me and
then left to go up to my sister to confirm and confess
the truth.
For a long moment I just stood there looking at
my stepmother. Finally, she turned toward me slowly,
her eyes no longer clouded with tears, her lips no
longer trembling.
"You haven't destroyed me," she said firmly.
"Don't think you have."
"I don't want to destroy you, Daphne. I just
want you to stop trying to destroy me. I can't say I
forgive you for the dreadful thing you tried to do to
me, but I'm willing to start anew and try to get along
with you. If for no other reason than to make my
father happy," I said.
"And maybe someday," I added, although it
seemed impossible to me at the moment, "I'll call you
Mother and be able to mean it."
She turned back to me, her eyes narrow, her face taut. "You've charmed everyone you've met.
Would you try to charm me, even after today?" "That's really up to you, isn't it . . Mother?" I
said, and turned away to leave her pondering the
future of the Dumas.
Epilogue
.
Truth, like a foundation in the bayou, has to be
driven deeply to take hold, especially in a world where lies could storm in and wash away the paperthin walls of illusion any time. Grandniere Catherine used to say the strongest trees are the ones whose roots go the deepest. "Nature has a way of finding out which ones don't go deep enough and they get washed away in the floods and the winds. But that ain't all bad because it leaves us with a world in which we can feel more secure, a world on which we can depend. Drive your roots deep, child. Drive your roots deep."
For better or for worse, my roots were now set in the garden of the Dumas family, and I had come from the timid, insecure Cajun girl who trembled on the family doorstep to the girl who had begun to understand a little more about who she really was.
In the days that followed, Gisselle grew strangely weaker and far more dependent on me than ever. I found her crying often and consoled her. She resisted learning about our Cajun background at first, and then, slowly, she began to ask a question here and there that led to my describing places and people. Of course, she was uncomfortable with the truth and made me swear dozens of times in dozens of ways never to tell anyone until she was ready for it to be told. I swore.
And then, one afternoon while I was up in Gisselle's room telling her about something that had happened during final exams at school, Edgar appeared.
"Pardon me, Mademoiselle Ruby," he said, after knocking on the doorjamb to get our attention, "but there is someone here to see you. A young man."
"A young man?" Gisselle quipped before I could respond. "What's his name, Edgar?"
"He says his name is Paul, Paul Tate."
The blood left my face for a moment and then rushed back in so quickly, I grew faint.
"Paul?"
"Who's Paul?" Gisselle demanded.
"Paul's our half brother," I told her. Her eyes widened.
"Bring him up here," she ordered.
I hurried down and found him standing in the entryway. He looked so much older to me and a good six inches taller, and far more handsome than I could recall.
"Hi, Ruby," he said, beaming a wide, happy smile.
"How did you find me?" I gasped. I hadn't left a return address on the letter I had written because I didn't want him to find me.
"It wasn't all that hard. After I got your letter and knew you were in New Orleans at least, I went to Grandpere Jack with a bottle of bourbon one night."
"You wicked boy," I chastised. "Taking advantage of a drunk like that."
"I would have drunk with the devil if it meant I could find you, Ruby." We gazed at each other for a moment, our eyes locked.
"Can I give you a hello kiss?" he asked.
"Yes. Of course."
He kissed me on the cheek and then stepped back to look around.
"You weren't exonerating, you are rich. Have things gotten any better for you here since you wrote me that letter?"
"Yes," I said. He looked disappointed.
"I was hoping you would say no and I'd talk you into retur
ning to the bayou, but I don't blame you for not wanting to leave this."
"My family is here, too, Paul."
"Right. So. Where is this twin sister?" he asked. I quickly told him about the automobile accident. "Oh," he moaned. "I'm sorry. Is she still in the hospital?"
"No. She's upstairs, dying to meet you. I've told her all about you," I said.
"You have?"
"Come on. She's probably tearing up the room because I've taken so long."
I led him upstairs. On the way he told me that Grandpere Jack was the same.
"You wouldn't recognize the house, of course. He's made it into the same pigsty he had in the swamps. And the grounds are peppered with holes. He's still looking for the buried money.
"For a time, after you had left, the authorities thought he might have done something to you. It was something of a scandal, but when nothing to lead anyone to believe it was found, the police stopped hounding him. Of course, some people still believe it."
"Oh. That's terrible. I'll have to write to Grandmere's friends and let them know where I am and that everything is fine."
He nodded and I showed him into Gisselle's room.
Nothing brought the tint back into Gisselle's cheeks and the glint back into her eyes as much as a handsome young man did. We weren't sitting and talking five minutes before she was flirting, batting her eyelashes, swinging her shoulders, and smiling at him. Paul was amused, maybe even a bit
overwhelmed with such feminine attention.
Toward the end of the visit, Gisselle surprised me by suggesting that we go visit him in the bayou one of these days soon.
"Would you?" Paul beamed. "I'd show you around, show you things that would make your eyes pop. I've got my own boat and now I have horses and--"
"I don't know if I could sit on a horse," Gisselle moaned.
"Of course you can," Paul said. "And if you couldn't, I'd sit with you."
She liked that idea.
"Now that you know where we are, you don't be a stranger either," Gisselle told him. "We've got to get to know each other more and more."
"I will. I mean, thanks."
"Are you going to stay for dinner?" she asked.
"Oh, no. I got a ride in with someone and I've got to meet him real soon," he said. I could tell he was making that up, but I didn't say anything. Gisselle was disappointed but she lit right up when he leaned over to kiss her good-bye.
"You come back real soon, hear?" she called as we started out.
"You could have stayed for dinner," I told him. "I'm sure Daddy would like to meet you. My stepmother Daphne is snobby, but she wouldn't be impolite."
"No. I really do have to get back. No one knows I came here," he confessed.
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