Hidden Jewel (5 page)

"Of course not," she said, laughing. "Why do you have to become seriously involved with someone while you're still so young?"
"You did," I said quickly and then regretted it.
"It was different for me, Pearl. I came from a different sort of life. I told you that. My childhood was rushed. I wish I had had more time to be young and carefree."
"But you did fall in love with Daddy soon after you met him, didn't you?"
"I suppose." Even in the darkness, I could see the tiny smile on her lips as she remembered. "We had our first kiss out here, in that cabana, a kiss that changed my life. But that doesn't mean it has to be that way for everyone, especially for you," she continued quickly. "You're going to have a career, and you're dedicated to higher things than most of your friends are," she added.
"Is that good?" I wondered aloud. "Will I miss something important?"
"I don't think so, honey. I think you're destined for more important things, and when you fall in love and someone falls in love with you, it will be a greater relationship than you can imagine now."
"I almost feel as if I should go to Marie Laveau's in the French Quarter and get some love powder," I said, and Mommy laughed.
"Who told you about that? Don't say I did," she added quickly.
"No, I read about it. You never did anything like that, did you?"
"No, but once in a while I'd burn a candle or Nina Jackson would burn some brimstone to keep away evil spirits she thought might be hovering about me. I suppose you think that's silly," she said. "And maybe it is."
"I don't know. Maybe if I were less scientific, I'd be happier," I said. "I know my friends would like me more."
"Nonsense. Don't be someone you're not just to please someone else," Mommy warned.
"Hey," Daddy called from the patio doors, "are you out here, Ruby?"
"Yes, Beau."
"Some of your friends are leaving and want to say good night."
"I'm coming."
"Something wrong?" Daddy asked when he saw I was with Mommy.
"No."
He stood there, skeptical. "Are you sure?"
"I'm fine, Daddy," I said. "We're coming in." I rose, and Mommy put her arm around me.
"And you are fine, too," she said squeezing me. "I'm proud of you, not just because you were the valedictorian and made a wonderful speech, but because you're sensible and mature. You don't know how wonderful it is to have a daughter you can trust and rely upon."
"Thank you, Mommy." I kissed her on the cheek and smelled her hair and perfume and felt my heart lighten. I was lucky, and I would not let anything darken this wonderful day and this wonderful night, I thought.
After our guests left, the twins whined and begged for me to open some of the graduation presents. Mommy wanted them to go to bed, but Daddy said it was a special night and they could stay up a little later, so we all went into the sitting room, and I unwrapped some of the gifts.
There was clothing for college and some expensive reference books. Dr. Portier and his wife had given me the latest edition of
Gray's Anatomy.
The twins became bored with my presents rather quickly. The two of them sank back in the larger settee, resting against each other, Pierre's arm over Jean's shoulders, Jean's eyes blinking and battling the weight of his eyelids. Finally Daddy nudged them and ordered them to bed. They had no resistance left and stumbled along. He guided them upstairs, and Mommy followed to be sure the two of them were all right.
Daddy returned first. "Happy, princess?" he asked.
"Yes, Daddy."
"It was the happiest day of my life," he said.
"No, it wasn't, Daddy."
"What?"
"The happiest day of your life was the day you met Mommy."
He laughed. "That's different."
"But it was
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your happiest day, wasn't it?"
"I didn't know it at the time, but yes, it was. I met her right outside this house, and I thought she was her sister in a Mardi Gras costume."
"How does a man know when he's in love, Daddy? Do bells really ring in your head?"
"Bells?" He smiled. "I don't remember bells. I just remember that my first thought every morning when I awoke was of being with your mother." He stared at me. "Trouble with Claude?" I nodded. "The problem is simple, Pearl. You're too mature for him."
"I'm too mature for all the boys my age."
"Maybe."
"Does that mean I'll be happy only with a much older man?"
"No," he said, laughing. "Not necessarily. And don't you bring home anyone who could be your father," he warned. Then we hugged and started upstairs. At my bedroom doorway, he kissed me on the forehead.
"Good night, princess," he said.
"Night, Daddy."
"When you were opening your gifts
downstairs," he said, "I thought I saw something around your ankle. Is it what I think?" I nodded. He shook his head. "Well, they say if you believe in something hard enough, it will happen. Who am I to disagree?" He kissed me again, and I went into my room.
Mommy came to say good night, too. I told her Daddy had seen the dime.
"Now he'll tease me to death," she said. "But I don't care. I've seen my grandmere do things that defied reason and logic."
"There's so much you still haven't told me about the past, isn't there?"
"Yes," she said sadly.
"But you will now. You'll tell me everything, won't you? The good and the bad. Promise?"
"Just think happy thoughts tonight, honey. There's plenty of time to open the dark closets." She kissed me and stared down at me a moment with that angelic smile on her lips, and then she left.
I could hear music in the night, trumpets and saxophones, trombones and drums. New Orleans was a city that hated to go to sleep. It was as if it knew that when it did, the spirits and ghosts that hovered outside the wall of laughter, music, and song would have free rein to wander the streets and invade our dreams.
At Lester's house Claude was probably kissing Diane. It was supposed to be my kiss.
My kiss was on hold, waiting in the wings for the lips of my mysterious lover. But maybe that was just a dream, too. Maybe there was no lover and never would be. Maybe one of those curses Mommy feared were left at our doorstep was a curse designed for me.
I reached over to the nightstand and opened the locket Aunt Jeanne had given me, so that I could gaze at myself being held by Paul. Love could be painful, too, I thought.
I had graduated from high school as class valedictorian, but at the moment I felt I didn't know very much. I closed the locket, turned off the lights, and closed my eyes.
Then I fell asleep to the sound of the applause I had received when I ended my speech saying, "Today is commencement, and commencement means a beginning."
Was it the beginning of happiness and success or the beginning of loneliness and error?
"Don't look down," Mommy had once told me. "Be like a tightrope walker and keep your eyes focused on the future. You have to have more trust in yourself, Pearl."
That was what I would try to do.

3
A Brave. New World
.
The first official day of summer vacation

declared itself with record heat. Temperatures cleared the one hundred and five mark and the humidity was so high, I imagined I could see droplets forming in the air right before my eyes. I had only a few blocks to walk to catch the Saint Charles streetcar, which would take me to Broadmoor General Hospital, where I was to work, but by the time I stepped into the car, my clothes were sopping wet and my hair felt glued to my forehead and scalp. Everyone looked subdued by the heat and humidity and sat with drawn, tired faces, anxious to get into their air-conditioned workplaces. Even the canopy of spreading oak, usually high and regal, appeared weighted down and exhausted, the leaves drooping sadly. The birds that normally flitted about joyfully, looked stuffed and stuck to these branches, not wasting their energy.

But despite the weather, I was bubbling with excitement. Although I didn't expect to do much more than aid the nurses and run errands, I was still looking forward to being around the medical staff and seeing and hearing the business of caring for the sick. For the first time in my life, really, I would be part of that mysterious, magical world in which doctors and nurses, with wisdom, knowledge, and insight, determined the treatments that would heal people and save lives. It wasn't too much of a stretch for me to understand how and why Mommy's Cajun relatives believed in the power of traiteurs. Even though medicine was a science, doctors and nurses were magicians in the minds of most people. They listened to and viewed our insides to discover where our bodies broke down and what tiny enemies had invaded us to do us harm.

Broadmoor General had been constructed on a grassy knoll. Two pairs of tall, full sycamore trees stood out in front, and patches of Queen Anne's lace ran alongside the driveway. The gardens were filled with azaleas, yellow and red roses, and hibiscus. Trumpet vine ran over the lower gallery, and purple wisteria peeked through the scrolled iron fence. Off to the right was
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E small pond, the water the color of dark tea.

The original building had been a mansion seized by the Confederate army during the Civil War and converted into an emergency hospital. The facility had been expanded and modernized over the years, but it wasn't one of the city's biggest. However, Daddy thought I would get more out of working in a small hospital because it would be more personal.

The streetcar stopped about a block away, and I walked quickly to the front entrance. The lobby was tiny compared to those of the more modern hospitals in the city. The old chandeliers had been replaced with bright, antiseptic-looking fluorescent lights, and the beige walls had been freshly painted. The tile floor had just been scrubbed; a small sign warned about it being slippery. I paused at the information desk to get directions to the personnel office. An elderly lady in a pink uniform directed me to the short corridor on the right and told me it was the first door on the left.

I found a tall, dark-haired woman slamming file cabinet drawers closed while she kept her eyes on a duplicating machine that was spitting out forms. When she turned to see who had entered the office, I noticed a thin blue ink stain on her chin. She was at least six feet tall with very hard, bony features. Her collarbones were prominent under her dark blue blouse. She had long arms and hands with slender fingers.

Her smile was a quick rubber-band tightening of her lips, a pale red line slashed across her face. She tweaked her slim nose and widened her dull brown eyes, the lids of which had been drooping to the point of shutting completely. She gasped before speaking as if she had to suck in enough air to make speech sounds first.

"Yes?" she asked, not disguising her annoyance at being interrupted.
"I'm looking for Mrs. Morgan," I said.
"I'm Mrs. Morgan."
"Bonjour!
I'm Pearl Andreas, I'm reporting to work today," I said. "Mr. Marbella, the hospital administrator, said I should come here as soon as I arrived."
"You have to fill out these papers," she said, gesturing toward a small, narrow table on my right. There were stacks of forms on it.
"All of them?" I asked.
"Start at the left and fill out one form from each of the first three stacks. Be sure to put down your Social Security number. I can't issue a release to the financial office so they can issue your first paycheck unless that's included. And be sure it's correct."
"Yes, ma'am."
"As soon as you have all that completed, go see Mrs. Winthrop on the second floor. She's the head nurse on this shift. You can take the stairway at the end of the hall and make a right. She'll issue you a uniform and explain your duties."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Your uniform doesn't belong to you," she lectured. "It belongs to the hospital. You can take it home, if you like, and you are responsible for keeping it clean and in good shape. A ten-dollar deposit will be held against your first week's salary."
She leaned over the desk and looked down at my feet. "You can wear those sneakers today, but tomorrow you should wear soft-soled white shoes. You can buy them at Medical Supplies on Canal Street. You have to pay for them yourself."
"I understand," I said.
She sighed again; this time it looked like her body would simply collapse inside her blouse and skirt, the hem of which-was so low it brushed the floor when she walked. "Is this your first job?"
"Well, actually . . ."
"I'll explain all about FICA, withholding, medical, food allowances . . after you complete the forms," she said and shook her head. "My assistant is out sick again. She usually handles new enrollments. She works in a hospital and she's constantly out sick," she added. "I haven't missed a day's work in twelve years, but people don't have the same attitude about their work anymore. Younger people are very lackadaisical when it comes to responsibilities."
"I'm not," I said. "Actually, I'm very excited about working here this summer. I'm going to become a doctor," I told her.
"Really?" She bit the inside of her cheek and tilted her head. "I myself have never gone to a woman doctor, and probably never will." She snapped her head straight and nodded toward the desk as if someone had poked her to remind her she was at work. She jabbed her long right forefinger toward the stack of forms. "The quicker you fill those out, the quicker you can earn your pay. You have to punch in and punch out every day right over there," she said nodding toward the opposite wall. "I'll have your temporary card for you before the day's over. For today I'll write in when you actually begin. Don't expect to get credit for the time it takes to fill out the forms."
"Yes, ma'am," I said and went to the forms. After I completed them all and handed them to her, she rattled off the information about my pay voucher slip, explaining everything so fast that I barely had time to hear, much less comprehend.
Then she leaned toward me, pursed her lips for a moment, and said, "Do your work and don't put your nose into anyone else's affairs and you'll do fine."
"Thank you, ma'am," I said. She stood back and nodded toward the doorway. I hurried out and up the stairs to the second floor. The nurses' station was located near the center of the corridor. A nurse who looked about fifty with curly gray hair and friendly blue eyes turned my way as I approached. A short, slim black girl with large round eyes stood beside her.
"I'm looking for Mrs. Winthrop," I said. "I'm Pearl Andreas."
"Oh, yes, dear. I'm Mrs. Winthrop. We've been expecting you. Sophie will take you to the linen closet and find you a uniform," she said, nodding at the slim black girl, who looked no more than sixteen. Her hair was cut very short, and she had a tiny but prominent scar on the left side of her jaw. She came around the desk quickly.
"This way," she said. She stared at me hard, dropping her eyes to my feet and raising her gaze to my face. When we were far enough away from the nurses' station, she spun around. "What do you want to be a nurse's aide for?" she demanded. "You look rich."
"I want to work in a hospital during my summer vacation because I hope to study medicine," I told her. "I want to get as much experience on my own as I can."
"You want to be a doctor? How long do you have to go to school to get your degree?" she asked, looking friendlier than before.
"You go to college and medical school for about seven years, and then you do your internship in a hospital. I'll be in my late twenties before I can practice on my own."
"We've got one of those," Sophie said.
"One what?"
"An intern. Dr. Weller. He's not a full doctor, though. He's got years to go yet."
"Well, it does take years and years of hard work. I hope I can stick it out," I said.
She narrowed her eyes again. "You sure you want to be a doctor?"
"I'm sure."
"I've never seen a woman doctor here."
"Well, maybeI'll be the first," I said and smiled.
She looked at me thoughtfully for a moment, then narrowed her eyes skeptically. "You ever give someone a bedpan?"
"No."
"You ever cleaned up vomit?"
"Once, when one of my brothers got sick," I replied. She leaned toward me. "You ever seen blood, lots of blood?" she demanded.
"I've seen blood," I assured her.
"And guts?"
"I've dissected animals and I know what's inside a human being," I said.
Sophie stepped back, shocked. "Where did you do that?"
"In school in the lab. Didn't you?"
"I only went to school through the fifth grade," she told me, "and we didn't have a lab, but I clean the lab here, so I've seen blood and guts and smelled it, too. You got to have a stomach made of iron. I do. Nothing makes me throw up anymore," she added proudly.
"I'm glad," I said. "It would be hard for you to come to work every day if you got sick to your stomach all the time."
She nodded. "The other girl, the one who come here last Friday, she got white as chalk the first day and puked in the bathroom for half an hour before Mrs. Winthrop sent her home. I'm glad you're here because I've been doing twice the work ever since that girl left."
"I won't throw up. I promise," I said.
She looked satisfied and led me to the linen room. There weren't many uniforms. The ones that were there were either way too big or too small. The best fit was so snug I had to leave the top two buttons of the bodice undone. "I guess this will have to do for now," I said.
"What's that around your ankle? Is it a dime?" Sophie asked.
"Yes. It's a good-luck charm."
She eyed me suspiciously for a moment. "Who gave it to you?"
"My mother. Someone special gave it to her a long time ago."
"My mama says people who wear a dime around their ankle be practicing voodoo."
"The dime is good gris-gris, if that's what you mean, but I don't practice voodoo."
"Does your mama?"
"No, not really," I said, but she continued to eye me warily.
"How old are you?" Sophie asked.
"Seventeen. I'll be eighteen in two months. How old are you?"
"The truth or what I tell people here?"
"The truth."
"I'll be fourteen next August, but they all think I'm going to be seventeen. Don't you tell," she warned.
"I won't."
"Let's go see Mrs. Winthrop."
"Is that the best fit you can find for her, Sophie?" the head nurse asked immediately.
"The others are much smaller or much, much bigger, Mrs. Winthrop," Sophie said. "We tried them all."
"I'm afraid this is the best," I said.
"Well, I'll ask Mr. Marbella to order more uniforms. Now that you're here, Pearl, we'll divide the floor between you and Sophie. You take rooms 200 to 205; Sophie will see to the rest." She checked her watch. "It's time to bring the patients their juice and refill their water pitchers. Sophie will show you where things are."
Sophie took me to the kitchen where we found another, much younger nurse talking with the intern. He was sitting with his back to us, and she was leaning against the counter. They were laughing when we entered.
" 'Scuse me," Sophie said and did a small curtsy. "We got to start on the juice."
The nurse smirked and moved away from the refrigerator. I saw from her name tag that she was Mrs. Crandle. She had light brown hair trimmed at the nape of her neck, hazel eyes and a firm mouth that dipped with annoyance at the corners. She wasn't unattractive, but her nose was a little too sharp and too long. The intern spun around in his chair and smiled widely when he saw me.
"Well now, who have we here?" he asked.
"She's the new nurse's aide," Sophie explained. "Her name's Pearl."
"Well, hello," he said. "I'm Dr. Weller. My mother always thought I should be a doctor because of our name. Get it? I make people weller." He laughed, but Mrs. Crandle grimaced as if it pained her to hear his joke again.
"Hi," I said. He rose to his full five feet eleven inches and extended his hand. He widened his smile to show me his very white and perfect teeth. His dark eyes sparkled wickedly when I put my hand into his. He folded his fingers over it quickly. His skin was as fair as mine, though in contrast to his dark hair, it made him look a little too pale. His strong chin sported a devil's cleft and another dimple in his right cheek flashed in and out apparently at will.
"About time we dressed up this place," he said, still grinning from ear to ear. He shot a look at Mrs. Crandle, who raised her eyes toward the ceiling.
"Just what we needed," she remarked, "another thing to distract you from your work."
"Don't mind her. I'm never distracted from anything I put my mind on," he said, keeping his gaze fixed on me. He dropped his eyes slowly and raised them with a look of appreciation. "That's the sexiest nurse's aide uniform I've seen," he added.
"There aren't any that fit me better, but . ." I began, feeling my face grow warm as my cheeks turned crimson.
"Hey, I didn't say this doesn't fit you." He laughed. He was still holding my hand.
"We've got to start bringing the juice to the patients," I said.
"Sure." He flashed another amused smile and released my hand.
"She gonna be a doctor too," Sophie bragged. "Is that right?"
"Yes," I said.
"Not a nurse, a doctor?"
I looked at Mrs. Crandle who had turned back to me sharply when he asked the question.
"I think nurses are just as important," I said, "but I'm interested in practicing medicine outside the hospital too."
"Oh? Very ambitious." He frowned, putting ripples in his forehead. In a deeper voice he asked, "How are your grades in school?"
"I was class valedictorian," I said.
He raised his eyebrows. "Impressive. We better watch our p's and q's, Mrs. Crandle," he joked.
"I would say you should watch the whole alphabet and not just the p's and q's," she remarked. "I have an I.V. to hook up. Don't you have anything to do, Doctor?"
"Whoa," he said. "Yes, I do. Well, good luck, Pearl. Please don't hesitate to ask me any questions," he said and reluctantly followed Mrs. Crandle.
"He's always making jokes," Sophie said. "Mrs. Crandle says some of his patients will laugh themselves to death. Can people do that, laugh themselves to death?"
"I don't think so," I said. She looked
unconvinced,
but nodded and then showed me where everything was located. I loaded my cart and began my rounds. There were two elderly women in my first room, one of whom was on a heart monitor; a man with a broken leg in the second, and a woman in her thirties undergoing tests for a stomach problem in the third. Her name was Sheila, and she was obviously very nervous and concerned. "I have to fast for a day," she told me. "Tomorrow morning I'm having another test."
"What's wrong with your stomach?" I asked.
"I get terrible pains right here whenever I eat," she said, pointing.
"They're looking at your gallbladder?"
"Yes. How did you know? Did the same thing happen to you once?" she asked hopefully.
"No. I just know that's where it is and that's where you would feel pain if it was acting up. But that doesn't have to be the reason," I added quickly.
"I know," she said sadly. "It could be something else. It could be something far more serious."
"Don't get yourself upset. Wait for all the reports. Most of the time, our imaginations make more of it than it is," I told her. I had overheard our doctor say that to Mommy once when Pierre and Jean both came down with a bad case of whooping cough. Sheila smiled, and I fixed her bed and made her more comfortable.
When I turned to go on to my next room, I saw Dr. Weller standing in the doorway, a slow grin forming around his lips. He stepped back into the corridor as I emerged with the juice cart.
"I overheard what you said." He leaned toward me. "If Mrs. Winthrop heard you giving patients medical advice, she would send you right home."
"I didn't give--"
"You let her believe it might be her gallbladder. Uh-uh-uh," he said, wagging his forefinger. Then he laughed. "It's all right. Chances are very good that you're right. Actually," he said, leaning back against the wall and folding his arms, "you did a smart thing deciding to work in the hospital during your summer vacation. You'll pick up a lot just hanging around and listening."
"That's what I thought, too," I said.
"You know, I'm studying and learning every day myself. I'm interning here under Dr. Bardot. He's constantly testing me." He smiled. "I bet you can help me," he said, nodding with a thoughtful look.
"Me? How?"
"You can be my study partner. You know, ask questions, test me on stuff. Do you have a heavy social schedule?" he asked.
"Social schedule?"
"Do you punch a clock with a boyfriend, too?"
"Oh. No, not anymore," I said.
"Good. Maybe you'll give me some time, then. I promise you'll learn a lot too," he added. "And I don't mean just medical information. I can fill you in on what to expect, how to prepare your applications, interviews. Ifs getting harder and harder to get into a good medical school in this country, you know. There are a lot of valedictorians out there competing for the same spaces," he warned.
I thought a moment. Learning about all this was why I had wanted to work here.
"Okay," I said. "Do you study during breaks?"
"Oh, no. We'll do it after work. I don't live far from here. It's a small apartment I took near Tulane University. That's where I attended premed and med school. You expect to go there?"
"I might, yes," I said.
"Fine. I'll fill you in on all the nitty-gritty. What's your shift tomorrow? Same as today?"