Hidden Jewel

by V. C. Andrews

  Jean kept pulling on his collar and moaning that he was choking to death. “Dressing up is dumb, Pearl,” he groaned. “You’ve got to worry about furniture being too dusty or about brushing up against something greasy, and boys have to wear these stupid ties.”

  “You look so handsome, Jean. Both of you do, and you’re doing it for Mommy. You know how big a day this is for her,” I explained. Jean nodded, reluctantly agreeing; but a few minutes later he was teasing Pierre by deliberately stepping on his shoes and messing up his hair, then running off through the house. Daddy had to pull them both aside and give them a stern lecture, after which they both sat waiting with their hands folded in their laps, looking glum.

  For a while the music and the excitement at the exhibition kept them amused. Daddy had given them instructions about how they should behave at the gallery, but the moment we all arrived, Daddy and Mommy were surrounded by friends, guests, and the press. The twins slipped away from me and explored. Every once in a while I caught sight of them darting in and out among clusters of people, gobbling hot hors d’oeuvres, and even sneaking a sip of wine. I cornered them a few times and had them sit quietly, but moments later they were gone.

  From the comments we were hearing, Mommy’s exhibition was being well received. A number of her pictures were sold during the opening. Afterward a party was to be held at Antoine’s, one of the French Quarter’s oldest and most famous restaurants. We had our party in the private dining room known as the Dungeon and actually used as such during the Spanish period in New Orleans. My waiter, who lingered at my side for a few moments after he served something, was very proud of the restaurant and proud that his name was Antoine, too.

  “Oysters rockefeller, one of our most famous dishes,” he said placing them before me, “were not created for John D. Rockefeller, you know. They were so named because of the richness of the sauce, and since Mr. Rockefeller was America’s richest person at the time …”

  “Oh, I see,” I said, smiling.

  He nodded at a waiter across the table from us who was pouring expensive wine like water. “Our wine cellar contains over 25,000 bottles, the oldest wine dating back to 1884. We even have a brandy produced in 1811.”

  I tried to appear sufficiently impressed, which encouraged him to continue his explanations and boasting with every course he served.

  “Princess Margaret called our crabmeat soufflé a poem.”

  The restaurant went all out to impress our guests and my parents. We were served chicken Rochambeau, crawfish cardinale, Brabant potatoes, and Antoine’s famous creamed spinach. However, the twins went right to the desserts.

  While we were having dinner, the first of the art reviews was brought in and read aloud because it was so favorable. Everyone applauded and Mommy stood up and thanked the guests. Then she and Daddy kissed.

  Every time they kissed, it seemed to me as though they were kissing for the first time. Their faces always radiated excitement, and their eyes were full of the glitter of discovery. How was it possible for me to ever find such love and happiness? I wondered. Mommy, sensing my thoughts, gazed my way and smiled at me, her eyes saying, Don’t worry, Pearl. There’s someone like Daddy out there for you, too. I’m sure of it.

  How I wished I could be as sure of it.

  Right in the middle of all the excitement, while people were coming to our table to congratulate Mommy, while music was playing and the great meal was being served, I saw Mommy suddenly stop smiling and turn toward the doorway. Her face drained quickly and became white with concern. I gazed toward the doorway, too, and saw a tall, thin caramel-skinned woman wearing a red tingue. The maître d’ went to greet her, and she nodded in Mommy’s direction. He kept her from entering, but because she was so insistent, he brought a message to Mommy. I watched her read it and saw her face grow even paler. She leaned over to whisper in Daddy’s ear, and he became visibly upset.

  I got up quickly and went to her. “What’s wrong, Mommy?”

  “Oh, Pearl honey, this message is about Nina Jackson, my father’s cook.”

  “What about her?” I looked toward the doorway but the mysterious woman was gone.

  “She’s dying and has asked for me. I’ve got to go to her at once, but Daddy doesn’t think I should leave the party.”

  “It’s your party, Mommy. How can you go? Is she going to die any moment?”

  “I don’t know, honey.”

  “Can’t you go right afterward?”

  “That’s what Daddy wants me to do. We’re having pictures taken in about a half hour. The mayor is supposed to be here.”

  “Then you have to stay, Mommy. But I’ll go with you as soon as you can leave.”

  “Thank you, darling,” she said, pressing my hands between hers. “I just feel I should get right up and go. Oh, dear.”

  I thought Mommy was upset enough to excuse herself and run out, but just at that moment the mayor of New Orleans made his entrance. There was applause and great excitement as he made his way through the party to greet Mommy and offer his congratulations. I went back to the twins and waited, knowing the turmoil Mommy was experiencing.

  Finally, nearly an hour later, Mommy told Daddy she felt she had to go. Some people were already leaving. She asked Daddy to take the twins home. The twins and I were standing beside them while they discussed it.

  “Pearl is going with me. We’ll take a cab,” Mommy told him.

  Daddy looked troubled. “I don’t like the idea of the two of you going places alone at night,” he said.

  “We’ll be fine, Beau. We’re just going from the cab into the house and back into the cab. I’ll have the driver wait,” she explained.

  “I don’t know what good it’s going to do, your going,” he muttered.

  “She was very dear to me once and we remained friends for a long time after she left the House of Dumas, Beau. There was a time when Nina Jackson was practically the only one looking after me.”

  Daddy nodded and looked away. I imagined Mommy was referring to the time when he left her and went to Europe. “What am I to tell the rest of these people?” he asked under his breath.

  “Tell them the truth, Beau. A dear friend is on her deathbed, and I went to her,” she said.

  “All right, all right. Be careful, will you?” He kissed her on the cheek.

  “Take care of your mother, and make sure she doesn’t do anything foolish,” Daddy warned me.

  “I will, Daddy,” I promised.

  “Let’s go, honey,” Mommy said.

  “We want to go too,” Jean whined.

  “You two are going home with me,” Daddy snapped. “You’ll both need castor oil after hogging down all those pralines tonight and eating all that crème brûlée, I’m sure. Don’t wander out of my sight,” he advised. The two of them looking longingly at me.

  “Be good boys,” I said and nodded at Pierre, who I knew could make Jean behave. He grimaced with unhappiness, but led Jean to chairs where they would sit obediently and wait for Daddy.

  Meanwhile Mommy had the restaurant hostess hail us a cab. “Quickly, honey,” she told me. We rushed out.

  “Where to?” the driver asked.

  Mommy gave him the address.

  “You sure you want to go there? That’s not the safest part of town this time of the night,” he said.

  “We know where we want to go. Just get us there quickly,” Mommy said. Her anxiety made her unusually firm and caustic. No one I knew spoke to servants and service people as kindly as Mommy usually did.

  As we drove out of the Vieux Carré and toward a poorer section of the city, Mommy told me of the time Nina Jackson took her to see a voodoo mama so she could get a charm or learn a ritual to keep her sister Gisselle from being cruel to her. She described how she had cast a ribbon belonging to Gisselle into a box containing a snake.

  “Not long after that, Gisselle was in the car accident,” she said mournfully. “I always felt guilty.”

  “But, Mommy, you surely don’t
believe the ritual was the reason for the accident. You said her boyfriend had been smoking pot and driving recklessly.”

  “Still … the voodoo ceremony might have put her in the grip of danger. Afterward, I returned with Nina, and the mama made me reach into the box with the snake in it and take out the ribbon, but she wouldn’t guarantee I could rescind the curse. She said once my anger was cast into the wind, the wind had control and I probably couldn’t pull it back.”

  “But, Mommy …”

  “I told Gisselle, you know.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She just used the information to blackmail me into becoming her slave, but I deserved it. I should never have let my anger get the better of me. No one else knew about it but Nina. She was always burning candles to keep evil away from me and giving me good luck charms, like the dime you now wear,” Mommy said, smiling.

  We turned the corner and started down a long, dark street. The buildings looked no better than shacks. Despite the hour, I saw young children still playing on the stoops and on the scarred and bald front yards. Broken-down cars were parked along the sidewalks, and the streets were very dirty, the gutters full of cans, bottles, and paper.

  We stopped at a shack that looked somewhat better than its neighbors. The yard and the sidewalk were clean, but I saw bones and feathers hanging above the front door.

  “Wait here for us,” Mommy ordered the driver.

  “I won’t wait long,” he warned.

  “I have your name and your license number,” she told him. “You had better be here when I step out of that house with my daughter,” Mommy countered. He grunted his reluctance, but sat back. Mommy took a deep breath and then found my hand. We walked to the stoop, and Mommy knocked on the door. A moment later a short black woman peered out at us. Her long gray hair hung down to the middle of her back, and she wore what looked like a potato sack and old sneakers without laces. Dangling from her earlobes were two small live lizards. They both held on for dear life.

  “We’re here to see Nina,” Mommy said.

  “Nina is not here,” the small woman said.

  Mommy glanced at the note she had been given. “I was told to come to this address. I was told Nina Jackson was very sick and dying in this house.”

  “That be told true, but Nina’s gone. Zombie take her about an hour ago. She’s in paradise.”

  “Oh, no. We’re too late,” Mommy moaned. I squeezed her hand, and she straightened her shoulders. “I want to see her anyway,” she insisted.

  The woman stepped back for us to enter. A sweet aroma flowed from the rear of the house. The old lady nodded toward the left, and we heard the monotonous rat-a-tat of a drum. Slowly Mommy and I walked toward the entrance to the rear room.

  It was a small bedroom with the shades drawn. The bed took up most of the space. Around it nearly a hundred candles were burning. Another black woman, not much bigger than the one who had greeted us, sat very still beside the coffin. Across from her, an elderly man with a luminous white beard was tapping a drum made of thin cypress staves hooped with brass and topped with sheepskin. He didn’t look our way or move his head an inch when we entered, but when the woman turned toward us, her large, sad eyes brightened with some recognition.

  “You be Nina’s Ruby,” she said.

  “Yes,” Mommy said. “Are you Nina’s sister?”

  The woman nodded and glanced at the body of Nina Jackson. Her face looked waxen, like a mask. I hadn’t seen them at first, because my eyes were blinded by the glow of the candles, but at the foot of the bed were two cats, a black one and, on its left, a white. They were both dead, preserved by a taxidermist. Above the headboard dangled a black doll wearing a brightly colored dress and a necklace of snake vertebrae, from which hung an alligator’s fang encased in silver.

  “My sister couldn’t wait no more,” the woman said.

  “I’m sorry,” Mommy said, moving to the side of the bed. I was right beside her. “Poor Nina.”

  “She be rich Nina now,” the sister said quickly. “She be with zombie.”

  “Yes,” Mommy said, smiling. She sucked in her breath and sighed before reaching out to touch Nina’s hand. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer and then looked at Nina’s sister. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “No, madame. Nina called for you because she wanted to do something for you. Before he took her, zombie told her something. Before she go for good she say, go fetch Madame Andreas. Bring her to me. I got to tell her what zombie let me know. But you don’t come, and she couldn’t wait no longer, see?”

  Mommy made a tiny cry. I took her hand. “Did she tell you anything?”

  “No, no. Nina can tell such a thing only to you. All she do is tell me get you fast, and then she asked if you be here and I said no. A while later she asked again, and again I say no. Then I heard her mumble a prayer. I seen her take her last breath and when I look closely, I see she died with a tear in her eye. That bode no good omen.

  “You go pray now, madame. You go pray for Nina’s voice. Maybe best you go to cemetery at midnight. Bring a black cat. Nina maybe speak from beyond through the cat’s mouth.”

  The drumming got louder.

  “Mommy, let’s go,” I whispered, feeling a chill in my spine. She looked transfixed, her eyes frozen in fear. “The taxi.”

  She took another deep breath and then opened her purse and took out some money. “Please, take this and buy what you need for Nina’s burial,” she said. Nina’s sister took the money. Mommy looked at Nina again and turned to leave.

  “You better go to the cemetery at midnight,” Nina’s sister called after us.

  Mommy was silent most of the way home. She stared out the window until we were nearly there. Then she turned and mumbled, “I should have gone immediately. I knew it. I should have just gone to her.”

  “But, Mommy, how could you? All those people had come to see you.”

  “None of that mattered as much. I know Nina wouldn’t have sent for me if it hadn’t been important,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Mommy, you don’t really believe all that; you don’t really believe Nina went to the land of the dead and returned to tell you something, do you?”

  She was silent.

  “Mommy?”

  “I remember once going with Grandmere Catherine to drive away a couchemal,” she said, “an evil spirit that lurks about when an unbaptized baby dies. She was called to drive it away so it wouldn’t bring the family bad luck.”

  “How did she do that?” I asked.

  “She put a drop of holy water in every pot, every cistern, anything that could hold water. We went around the house searching and while we she was depositing the holy water …”

  “What?” I asked when she hesitated.

  “I felt it. I felt the spirit,” she whispered. “It flew past me, touched my face, and disappeared into the night.”

  I swallowed back my gasp.

  “I don’t mock anyone’s beliefs,” she said, “and I don’t challenge the charms, the grisgris, or the rituals. I don’t want to believe in most of it, but sometimes … sometimes I can’t help it. It fills my stomach with butterflies.”

  I embraced her; she was shivering. “Oh, Mommy, those are just foolish old superstitions. People make them up. You can’t believe anything bad will happen because you didn’t get to see Nina in time.”

  “I hope not,” she said, shaking her head. “I hope not.”

  Daddy and the boys were home when we arrived. He had sent the twins to bed, but fifteen minutes later they were both complaining of stomachaches. “Which doesn’t surprise me one bit, considering what they gobbled down tonight.” He paused and looked hard at Mommy. “What’s wrong? Nina died?”

  “Yes, Beau. She died before I got there.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “She was quite a character, Nina. I remember how well she dealt with Gisselle. She was the only one who could get her to do as she was told. I think Gisselle was a l
ittle afraid of Nina, even though she mocked her and her voodoo.”

  “Her sister said that Nina had something important to tell me, Beau.”

  Daddy looked at her. “Something about what?”

  “Something she learned in the other world,” Mommy blurted.

  At first Daddy just stared. Then his mouth dropped. “You don’t mean to tell me you believe Nina came back from the dead to tell you something?” Mommy nodded. “Mon Dieu, Ruby. A woman with your intelligence and—”

  “It has nothing to do with intelligence, Beau.”

  Daddy clamped his lips shut. He and Mommy had had arguments about this before, and he knew how firmly she held on to her old beliefs.

  “I’m tired,” he said. “I’m going up to bed. Oh,” he added turning at the stairway, “Bertrand from the gallery said seventy percent of your work has been sold—a record for an opening. Congratulations.” He started up the stairs.

  Mommy sighed. “What a night. I should be happy, but long ago I learned that for every ray of sunshine, there’s a shadow lurking. We’ve just got to balance ourselves between them, I suppose.” She smiled at me. “Thanks for being at my side and being my comfort.”

  We hugged.

  “I better go up and see how the boys are doing. I might have to use one of Grandmere Catherine’s herbal recipes,” she said.

  When the boys set eyes on her, they’re begging for attention. “It’s no use bawling them out tonight,” Mommy said, coming out of their room. “They’re both too green to hear a word.”

  Mommy went down to prepare the old tried and true remedy, and I went to bed. However, as soon as I closed my eyes, I saw the hundred candles and heard the dreary drumbeat. Later I had a horrible nightmare in which Nina sat up on her deathbed and turned to me. She opened her eyes, and they were yellow. Instead of tears, hot wax streamed from under her eyelids and hardened on her cheeks. When she opened her mouth to speak, all I heard was Mommy’s voice screaming “Noooo!” I woke with a start. I was about to get up for a drink of water when I heard footsteps and sobbing in the hallway. I waited and then peered out. Mommy was descending the stairway. I saw her go out a patio door. She appeared to be sleepwalking.