Landry 02 Pearl in the Mist (24 page)

He remained silent. Then he turned and smiled. "I really enjoyed your letters from school, especially
all the things you've told me about Gisselle." "She's been more than a handful, and I just
know things are going to get worse now that Daddy's
gone, but he left me promising to look after her. I'd
rather look after a barrel of green snakes," I said. Paul
laughed again, and I felt the weight of sorrow lift from
my breast. It was as if I could suddenly breathe again. But before we could continue, we saw Edgar
approaching. He looked glum.
"I'm sorry, mademoiselle, but Madame Dumas
wants you to come into the house and go directly to
the parlor now," he said, raising his eyebrows to
indicate how sternly she had given the command. "Thank you, Edgar. I'll be right along," I said.
He nodded and left us.
"Oh Paul, I'm so sorry you've come so far to
spend so short a time with me."
"It's all right," he said. "It was worth it. A
minute with you is like an hour back home without
you anyway," he added.
"Paul, please," I said, taking his hands into
mine. "Promise me you'll look for someone to love.
Promise me you'll let someone love you. Promise." "All right," he said. "I promise. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you, Ruby, even fall in love
with someone else, if I could."
"You can; you must," I told him.
"I know," he said in a whisper. He looked like I
had forced him to swallow castor oil. I wanted to stay
with him, to talk and remember the good times, but
Edgar was standing in the doorway as a way of
showing me Daphne was being very insistent. "I've got to go inside before she makes a scene
that embarrasses us both, Paul. Have a safe trip back
and call and write to me at school."
"I will," he said. He kissed me quickly on my
cheek and hurried to his car, forcing himself not to
look back. I knew it was because he had tears in his
eyes and he didn't want me to see them.
I felt an ache in my heart when he drove off,
and for a moment I could see that look in his face
again on the day he learned the truth about us, the
truth we both wished had been buried in the swamp
with the sins of our fathers.
I sucked in my breath and hurried to the front
entrance to see what new rules and orders Daphne
wanted to lay on my sister's and my head now, now
that we had no one to stand between her and us and
protect us anymore.
She was waiting in the parlor, sitting back in
her chair. Gisselle had been wheeled in and she
waited too, fidgeting and looking very unhappy. I was
surprised to see Bruce seated at the dark pine
secretary. Would he be present at all our family
discussions now?
"Sit down," Daphne ordered, nodding at the
chair beside Gisselle. I took it quickly.
"Is Paul gone?" Gisselle asked.
"Yes."
"Quiet, the two of you. I didn't gather you here
to discuss some Cajun boy."
"He's not a boy; he's a young man," I said.
"And the manager of his father's factory."
"Fine. I hope he becomes king of the swamp.
Now," she said, putting her hands on the arms of the
chair, "the two of you will be leaving early in the
morning, so I wanted to get some matters straightened
out and some business conducted before I retire to my
suite. I'm exhausted from all this."
"Then why do we have to leave tomorrow?"
Gisselle whined. "We're exhausted too."
"It's settled: You're leaving," Daphne said, her
eyes big. She calmed herself again and continued.
"First, I'm cutting in half the amount of money your father was sending you. You have little or no use for spending money while you attend Greenwood
anyway."
"That's not true!" Gisselle countered. "In fact, if
you give us permission to leave the grounds--" "I'm not about to do that. Do you think I'm a
fool?" She glared at Gisselle as if she expected an
answer. "Do you?" she taunted.
"No," Gisselle said, "but it's boring having to
stay on the grounds, especially on the weekends. Why
can't we take taxis to the city, go to a movie, go
shopping?"
"You're there to study and work, not vacation.
If you need more money for some emergency, you
can phone Bruce at the office and explain what it is
and he'll see to it the money is delivered--taken from
your trust, of course.
"Neither of you need anything new in your
wardrobe. Your father overindulged you both when it
came to clothing. He insisted I take you shopping
when you first arrived, Ruby. Remember?"
"I thought you wanted to do that," I said softly. "I did what I had to do to maintain some social
dignity. I couldn't have you living here and looking
like a runaway Cajun, could I? But your father didn't think I had bought enough. There was never enough for his precious twins. Between both your closets, I could open a department store. Bruce knows our bills.
Isn't that so, Bruce?"
"Quite true," he said, nodding and smiling. "Explain the trust to them simply and quickly,
Bruce, if you please," Daphne told him.
He pulled himself up and gazed at some
documents on the desk. "Quite simply, all your basic
needs are provided for: your schooling, your travel
expenses, necessities, and some money for luxuries,
gifts, et cetera. As it is required, it is drawn out when
Daphne signs for it. If you need an extra stipend, put it
in writing and send it to the office, and I'll look into
it."
"Put it in writing? What are we, employees
now?" Gisselle demanded.
"Hardly employees," Daphne said, her voice
hard, her smile faint and sardonic. "Employees have
to work for what they get."
She and Bruce exchanged a look of satisfaction
before she turned back to us.
"I want to reiterate what I told you about your
behavior at Greenwood. Should I be called by the
principal because of some misbehavior, the
consequences will be dire for you, I assure you." "What could be more dire than having to stay at
Greenwood?" Gisselle muttered.
"There are other schools, farther away, with
rules far stricter than the rules at Greenwood." "You mean reform schools," Gisselle said. "Gisselle," I said, "stop arguing. It's no use." She gazed at me with her teary eyes.
I shook my head. "She almost had me
committed once. She's capable of anything." "That's enough," Daphne snapped. "Go up and
pack your clothes and remember my warnings about
your behavior at school. I don't want to hear a bad
word. It's enough that Pierre went and died and left
me to be guardian over the offspring resulting from
his wild indulgences. I don't have the time nor the
emotional strength for it."
"Oh, you have the strength, Daphne," I said.
"You have the strength."
She stared at me a moment and then put her
hand on her chest. "My heart is beating a mile a
minute, Bruce. I have to go up. Will you see to it that
they do what they're told and the limousine is here to
take them to school in the morning?"
"Of course," he said.
I rose quickly and pushed my sister out of the
parlor. Maybe she realized it now; maybe she
understood that when Daddy died, we had become
orphans, albeit orphans from a rich family, but poorer
than the poorest when it came to having someone to
love and someone to love us.

12
Dark Clouds
.
Despite what Gisselle had heard and seen in the

parlor the day before, she somehow blamed me, insisting I hadn't done enough to persuade Daphne to let us remain at home and return to school in New Orleans.

"At least you have something there you like," she moaned before we went to sleep the night before. "You have your precious Miss Stevens and your artwork to occupy yourself, and you can run up to the Clairborne mansion to tease Mrs. Clairborne's blind grandson, but all I have is this group of stupid, immature girls with which to amuse myself."

"I don't tease, Louis," I said. "I feel sorry for him. He's someone who's suffered great emotional pain."

"And what about me? Haven't I suffered great emotional pain? I nearly died; I'm crippled. We're sisters. Why don't you feel sorry for me?" she cried.

"I do," I said, but it was half a lie, Despite Gisselle's being confined to a wheelchair, I found it more and more difficult to sympathize with her plight. Most of the time, Gisselle managed to get what she wanted no matter what, and usually at someone else's expense.

"No you don't! And now I've got to go back to that . . that hellhole," she groaned.
She threw a tantrum and wheeled herself about her room, knocking things off the dresser and scattering clothing everywhere. Poor Martha had to come in and straighten it all out before Daphne discovered what Gisselle had done.
In the morning she sat rigidly in her wheelchair, as stiff as she would be had she been calcified, not moving a limb and making the transference from chair to chair to car that much more difficult. She refused to eat a morsel of breakfast and kept her lips so tightly pressed together, they looked stitched closed. Although Gisselle was doing all this for our stepmother's benefit, Daphne witnessed none of her tantrum. She merely sent down orders for Edgar, Nina, and the chauffeur and reminders with warnings attached for us. Bruce Bristow arrived just before we were to leave to make sure our departure went smoothly and on schedule. It was the only time Gisselle uttered a word.
"Who are you now," she taunted, "Daphne's little gofer? Bruce, go for this; Bruce, go for that." She laughed at her own derisive comment. Bruce's face turned pink, but he simply smiled and then went to see to the luggage. Frustrated and furious, Gisselle gave up and sat back with her eyes closed, resembling one of the patients strapped in a straitjacket in Uncle Jean's institution.
The trip back to Greenwood was almost as depressing as our journey home to Daddy's funeral. It was far more bleak, the dark gray skies following us all the way, with some light sprinkles dotting the windshield and creating a need for the monotonous sweep of the wipers. Gisselle closed up as tightly as a clam in her corner of the rear seat, not so much as gazing out the window once we left New Orleans. Occasionally, she would throw me a hard look.
For my part I found myself looking forward to doing just what Gisselle had said: returning to work with Miss Stevens and throwing all my energies and attention into the development of my artistic talents. After spending days under Daphne's glaring eyes and oppressive thumb, I actually welcomed the sight of Greenwood when we pulled up the drive and saw the girls scurrying about the grounds after class, all of them laughing, giggling, talking with an animation I now envied. Even Gisselle permitted herself to brighten a bit. I knew she wouldn't show her defeat and disappointment to her disciples.
In fact, once she was back in our dorm, she immediately reverted to her previous demeanor and behavior, refusing to acknowledge anyone's expression of sympathy, acting as if Daddy's death and funeral had been just a terrible inconvenience. She wasn't in her room two minutes before she opened fire on her new whipping boy, her roommate Samantha, screaming at her for having the nerve to move some of her things while she was away. All of us heard the commotion and came out to see what was happening. Samantha was in tears in the doorway where Gisselle had driven her during her tirade.
"How dare you touch my cosmetics? You stole some of my perfume, didn't you? Didn't you?" she hammered. "I know there was more in the bottle."
"I didn't."
"Yes you did. And you tried on some of my clothes too." She spun around in her chair and glared at me. "Look at what I have to put up with since you forced me to move out of your room and share a room with her!" Gisselle screamed.
I nearly burst out laughing at the lie. "Me?
I
told you to move?
You
were the one who wanted to move, Gisselle. You were the one who insisted," I said. Vicki, Kate, and Jacki all looked at me sympathetically because they knew what I said was the truth. But none was willing to come to my defense and risk Gisselle's wrath.
"I did not!" Gisselle yelled, her face so red with anger and frustration, she looked like the top of her head would blow off. She pounded the arms of her wheelchair with her fists and shook her body from side to side so vigorously, I thought she would topple over. "You wanted to be with that quadroon so bad you drove me out." She pulled her eyes back under her trembling lids and foamed at the lips, gagging and choking. Everyone thought she was going into a convulsion, but I had seen her behave this way many times before.
"All right, Gisselle," I said with a tone of defeat, "calm down. What do you want?"
"I want her out of here!" she demanded, pointing her right forefinger at Samantha, who looked as confused and frightened as a baby bird driven out of its nest.
"Do you want to move back in with me, then? Is that what you want?" I asked, slowly closing and opening my eyes.
"No. I'll live by myself and take care of myself," she insisted, wrapping her arms around her body and sitting back firmly in her chair. "Just as long as she's out of here."
"You can't toss people in and out of your room like you would one of your stuffed animals, Gisselle," I chastised. She turned her head slowly and fixed her eyes on little Samantha, burning her gaze into the diminutive strawberry blonde, who stepped farther back.
"I'm not tossing her out. She wants to leave, don't you, Samantha?"
Samantha turned helplessly and gazed at me.
"You can move in with me, Samantha," I said, "if my sister is so positive she can be on her own."
Now that Daphne had forced us to return to Greenwood, I knew that all Gisselle was out to do was make everyone else's life as miserable as her own.
"Sure," she whined, "take someone else's side, just like you always do. We're twins, but do you ever act like we are? Do you?"
I closed my eyes and counted to ten.
"All right, what is it you want, Gisselle? Do you want Samantha to move out or don't you?"
"Of course I do! She's a pathetic little . . . virgin!" she thundered. Then she twisted her lips into a wry smile before adding, "Who dreams of sleeping with Jonathan Peck." She wheeled toward her. "Isn't that what you told me, Samantha? Don't you wonder what it would be like to have Jonathan touch your precious little breasts and kiss you below your belly button? And bring the tip of his tongue--"
"Stop it, Gisselle," I screamed. She smiled at Samantha, who now had large tears streaming down her cheeks. She didn't know how to react, how to deal with this violent betrayal.
"Get your things together, Samantha," I told her, "and bring them into my room."
"And I want any of my things that were left in there brought into MY room," Gisselle commanded. "Kate will help, won't you, Kate?" she asked, smiling at her.
"What? Oh, sure."
Gisselle widened her smile for me, glared at Samantha, and then twirled her wheelchair about to return to her room, mumbling loudly about having to check all her things now to see what else Samantha had stolen or used.
"I didn't take any of her things. Honest," Samantha exclaimed again.
"Just move out, Samantha, and don't try to explain or defend yourself," I advised.
I didn't mind having a new roommate and I thought it would serve Gisselle right to have to struggle on her own for a while. Maybe then she would appreciate the help everyone else gave her. But whether it was out of spite or out of defiance, she surprised me by unpacking her own things, changing her dress and shoes for dinner, and fixing her own hair. Kate was given the privilege of wheeling her about now that Samantha was persona non grata. At least for a while, it looked like things would calm down.
After dinner that night, while Vicki was helping me catch up with the work I had missed in the classes she and I shared, Jacki came to my doorway to tell me I had a phone call. I hurried out, assuming it was either Beau or Paul, but it turned out to be Louis.
"I found out from Mrs. Penny about your father," he began. "I wanted to call you in New Orleans, but my cousin wouldn't give me the telephone number. She said it was inappropriate. Anyway, I'm sorry."
"Thank you, Louis."
"I know what it means to lose a parent," he continued. He was silent for a moment and then he changed his tone of voice. "I've been making slow but definite progress with my eyesight," he said. "I can distinguish shapes even better and more clearly. There's still a gray haze over everything, but my doctors are very optimistic."
"I'm happy for you, Louis."
"Can I see you soon? That sounds so great to say, 'see you.' Can I?"
"Yes, of course."
"Come tomorrow. For dinner," he said excitedly. "I'll have the cook prepare a shrimp gumbo."
"No, I can't for dinner. I have serving duty, and it wouldn't be right to ask anyone to take my place."
"Then come after dinner."
"I'll probably have loads of schoolwork to catch up on," I said.
"Oh." Disappointment dripped through the phone. "Just give me a little while to catch up on everything," I pleaded.
"Sure. I'm just so anxious to show you my progress. Progress," he added softly, "that came after I met you."
"That's nice of you to say, Louis. But I don't know what I could have had to do with it."
"I do," he said cryptically. "I'm warning you. I'll drive you crazy until you visit me," he teased.
"All right," I said, laughing. "I'll come up on Sunday after dinner."
"Good. Maybe by then I'll make even more progress and surprise you by telling you the color of your hair and the color of your eyes."
"I hope so," I said, but after I hung up the phone, I felt a dark anxiety spiral its way up from the bottom of my stomach to my heart, where it settled like a dull ache. It was nice to have Louis feel that I was helping him, and it was flattering to think I could have such a dramatic impact on so serious a problem as blindness, but I knew he was putting too much importance on me and developing too much reliance on my company. I was afraid he would think he was falling in love with me and that he might even imagine that I was falling in love with him. Soon, I promised myself, soon I would tell him about Beau. Only now I was afraid it might shatter his delicate improvement; and his grandmother and his cousin, Mrs. Ironwood, would only have something else to blame on rue.
I returned to my room and to my work and buried myself in the reading, the notes, and the studies because it kept me from thinking about all the sad things that had occurred and the heavy burdens I had been left to bear. The next day all of my teachers were understanding and cooperative, the warmest being Miss Stevens, of course. Returning to her class was like coming out of a dark, summer storm into the brightness of sunlight again. I returned to my unfinished paintings and we made a tentative date to meet at the lake on the school grounds Saturday morning to start some new work.
Over the next few days, Gisselle continued to surprise me and the others with her new
independence. Except for Kate's wheeling her about at times, she took care of her own needs. She kept the door to her room shut tight whenever she was in there. Samantha, on the other hand, looked sad and lost. Whenever Gisselle was with Kate and Jackie, the three ignored her. She trailed after them like a puppy dog who had been kicked and driven from its home but had nowhere else to go. Obviously under Gisselle's orders, Jacki and Kate joined her and refused to acknowledge or speak to Samantha. They acted as if she were invisible.
"Why don't you try to make new friends, Samantha," I told her. "Perhaps you should even go to Mrs. Penny and request to be moved to a new quad."
She shook her head vigorously. The thought of making such a dramatic break, even under these coinditions, terrified the shy, insecure girl.
"No, it's all right. Everything will be all right," she said.
On Thursday night, however, I returned from the library with Vicki and found Samantha curled up in her bed, sobbing softly. I closed the door and hurried to her bedside.
"What is it, Samantha? What's my sister done now?" I asked in a tired voice.
"Nothing," she moaned. "Everything's fine. We're . . . friends again. She's forgiven me."
"What? What are you talking about? Forgiven you?"
She nodded, but kept her back to me, the covers tightly wrapped around her body. Something about her behavior triggered my darker suspicions. My heart began to beat quickly in anticipation when I put my hand on her shoulder and she jumped as if I had touched her with fingers of fire. "Samantha, what happened here while I was away?" I demanded. She simply cried harder. "Samantha?"
"I had to do it," she moaned. "They all made me. They all said I had to."
"Do what, Samantha? Samantha?" I shook her shoulder. "Do what?"
Suddenly she turned around and buried her face against my stomach while throwing her arms around my waist. Her body shook with sobs.
"I'm so ashamed," she cried.
"Ashamed of what? Samantha, you must tell me what Gisselle made you do. Tell me," I insisted, seizing her shoulders firmly. She sat back slowly, her eyes closed, and let her head fall back to the pillow. I realized she was naked under the blanket.
"She sent Kate in to tell me to come into her room. When I did, she asked me if I wanted to be part of the group again. I said yes, but she said . . . she said I had to do penance."
"Penance? What sort of penance?"
"She said that while she was away, I dreamt of being like her. I wanted to be her, and that was why I used her lipstick and her makeup and her perfume. She said I was so sexually frustrated, I even put on her panties, but I didn't," Samantha insisted. "Honest, I didn't."
"I believe you, Samantha. Then what
happened?" Samantha closed her eyes and swallowed.
"Samantha?"
"I had to take off my clothes and get into the bed," she blurted.
I held my breath, knowing what sort of sordid things Gisselle was capable of making her do.
"Go on," I said in a breathy whisper.
"I'm so ashamed."
"What did she make you do, Samantha?"
"They all did," she cried. "They taunted and cheered until I gave in."
"Gave in to what?"
"I had to take a pillow and pretend it was . . . Jonathan Peck. They made me stroke it and kiss it and . . ."
"Oh no, Samantha." She shuddered with sobs.
I stroked her hair. "My sister is a sick person. I'm sorry. You shouldn't have listened to her."
"They all hated me," she cried in defense, "even the other girls in the dorm and the girls in our classes. No one would talk to me in the girls' room or in the lockers, and someone poured a bottle of ink over my social studies notebook today, blotting out all the pages." She cried harder.
"All right, Samantha. It's all right," I said. I rocked her until her sobbing subsided. Then I stood up. "My sister and I are going to have a little chat right now."
"NO!" Samantha said, seizing my hand. "Don't." Her eyes were wide with terror. "If you get her angry, she'll turn the girls against me again. Please," she begged. "Promise you won't say anything. She made me promise not to tell you what they made me do and she'll just accuse me of betraying her again."