Ruby (23 page)

explain," he told her. She closed her eyes and sighed
deeply.
"How do you propose to handle this. . . this
situation, Pierre? How do we explain her to our
friends, to society?" she asked. I was still standing,
afraid to take a step away, yet afraid to sit down again,
too. I clung so hard to my little b. t of possessions, my
knuckles turned white while my father thought. "Nina wasn't with us when Gisselle was
supposedly born," he began.
"We had that mulatto woman, Tituba,
remember?"
"I remember. I remember hating her. She was
too sloppy and too lazy and she frightened me with
her silly superstitions," Daphne recalled. "Dropping
pinches of salt everywhere, burning clothing in a
barrel with chicken droppings . . . at least Nina keeps
her beliefs private."
"And so we let Tituba go right after Gisselle
was supposedly born, remember? At least, that was
what we told the public."
"What are you getting at, Pierre? How does that
relate to this trifling problem?" she asked caustically. "We never told the truth because we were
working with private detectives," he said.
"What? What truth?"
"To get back the stolen baby, the twin sister
who was taken from the nursery the same day she was
born. You know how some people believe that
missing children are voodoo sacrifices, and how some
voodoo queens were often accused of kidnapping and
murdering children?" he said.
"I always suspected something like that,
myself," Daphne said.
"Precisely. No one's ever proven anything of
the sort, however, but there was always the danger of
creating mass hysteria over it and causing vigilantes
to go out and abuse people. So," he said, sitting back,
"we kept our tragedy and our search private. Until
today, that is," he added, pressing his hands together
and smiling at me.
"She was kidnapped more than fifteen years
ago and has returned?" Daphne said. "Is that what
we're to tell people, tell our friends?"
He nodded. "Like the Prodigal Son, only this
case, it's the Prodigal Daughter, whose fake
grandmother got a pang of conscience on her
deathbed and told her the truth. Miracle of miracles,
Ruby has found her way home."
"But, Pierre . ."
"You'll be the talk of the town, Daphne.
Everyone will want to know the story. You won't be
able to keep up with the invitations," he said. Daphne
just stared at him a moment and then looked up at me. "Isn't it amazing?" my father said. "Look at
how identical they are."
"But she's so. . . unschooled," Daphne moaned. "Which, in the beginning, will make her more
of a curiosity. But you can take her under your wing
just as you took Gisselle," my father explained, "and
teach her nice things, correct things, make her over. . .
like Pygmalion and Galatea," he said. "Everyone will
admire you for it," he told her.
"I don't know," she said, but it was with much
less resistance. She gazed at me more analytically.
"Maybe scrubbed up with decent clothes . . ." "These are decent clothes!" I snapped. I was
tired of everyone criticizing my garments.
"Grandmere Catherine made them and the things she
made were always cherished and sought after in the
bayou."
"I'm sure they were," Daphne said, her eyes
sharp and cold. "In the bayou. But this is not the bayou, dear. This is New Orleans. You came here because you want to live here . . be with your father," she said, looking at Pierre before looking back at me.
"Right?"
I looked at him, too. "Yes," I said. "I believe in
Grandmere Catherine's wishes and prophecies." "Well, then, you have to blend in." She sat back
and thought a moment. "It will be quite a challenge,"
she said, nodding. "And somewhat of an interesting
one."
"Of course it will be," Pierre said.
"Do you think I could ever get her to the point
where people really wouldn't know the difference
between them?" Daphne asked my father. I wasn't
sure I liked her tone. It was still as if I were some
uncivilized aborigine, some wild animal that had to be
housebroken.
"Of course you could, darling. Look at how
well you've done with Gisselle, and we both know
there's a wild streak in her, don't we?" he said,
smiling.
"Yes. I have managed to harness and subdue
that part of her, the Cajun part," Daphne said
disdainfully.
"I am not wild, madame," I said, nearly spitting my words back at her. "My grandmere Catherine taught me only good things and we went to church
regularly, too."
"It's not something people teach you, per se,"
she replied. "It's something you can't help, something
in your heritage," she insisted. "But Pierre's blue
blood and my guidance have been strong enough to
conquer that part of Gisselle. If you will help, if you
really want to become part of this family, I might be
able to do it with you, too.
"Although, she's had years and years of poor
breeding, Pierre. You must remember that." "Of course, Daphne," he said softly. "No one
expects miracles overnight. As you said so yourself
just a moment ago--it's a challenge." He smiled. "I
wouldn't ask you if I didn't think you were capable of
making it happen, darling."
Placated, Daphne sat back again. When she
thought deeply, she pursed her lips and her eyes
glittered. Despite the things she had said, I couldn't
help but admire her beauty and her regal manner.
Would it be so terrible to look and act like such a
woman? I wondered, and become someone else's
fairy-tale princess? A part of me that wouldn't be
denied cried,
Please, please, cooperate, try,
and the part of me that felt insulted by her remarks sulked
somewhere in the dark corners of my mind. "Well, Beau already knows about her," Daphne
said.
"Exactly," my father said. "Of course, I could
ask him to keep it all a secret, and I'm sure he would
die in a duel before revealing it, but things are
revealed accidentally, too, and then what would we
do? It could unravel everything we've done up until
now."
Daphne nodded.
"What will you tell Gisselle?" she asked him,
her voice somewhat mournful now. "She'll know the
truth about me, that I'm not really her mother." She
dabbed at her eyes with a light blue silk handkerchief. "Of course you're really her mother. She hasn't
known anyone else to be her mother and you've been
a wonderful mother to her. We'll tell her the story just
as I outlined it. After the initial shock, she'll accept
her twin sister and hopefully help you, too. Nothing
will change except our lives will be doubly blessed,"
he said, smiling at me.
Was this where I got my blind optimism? I
wondered. Was he a dreamer, too?
"That is," he added after a moment, "if Ruby agrees to go along with it. I don't like asking anyone to lie," he told me, "but in this case, it's a good lie, a lie which will keep anyone from being hurt," he said,
shifting his eyes toward Daphne.
I thought a moment. I would have to pretend, at
least to Gisselle, that Grandmere Catherine had been
part of some kidnapping plot. That bothered me, but
then I thought Grandmere Catherine would want me
to do everything possible to stay here--far away from
Grandpere Jack.
"Yes," I said. "It's all right with me."
Daphne sighed deeply and then quickly
regained her composure.
"I'll have Nina arrange one of the guest rooms,"
she said.
"Oh, no. I want her to have the room that
adjoins Gisselle's. They will be sisters right from the
beginning," my father emphasized. Daphne nodded. "I'll have her prepare it right away. For tonight,
she can use some of Gisselle's night garments.
Fortunately," she said, smiling at me with some
warmth for the first time, "you and your sister look to
be about the same size." She gazed down at my feet.
"Your feet look fairly close as well, I see."
"You'll have to go on a shopping spree tomorrow though, darling. You know how possessive
Gisselle is with her clothes," my father warned. "She should be. A woman should take pride in
her wardrobe and not be like some college coed,
sharing her garments down to her very panties with
some roommate." She rose gracefully from the high
back chair and shook her head slightly as she gazed at
me. "What a Mardi Gras evening this turned out to
be." She turned to Pierre. "You're positive about all
this. This is what you want to do?"
"Yes, darling. With your full cooperation and
guidance, that is," he said, rising. He kissed her on the
cheek. "I guess I'll have to make it all up to you
doubly now," he added. She looked into his eyes and
gave him a small, tight smile.
"The cash register has been ringing for the last
five minutes without a pause," she said, and he
laughed. Then he kissed her gently on the lips. From
the way he gazed at her, I could see how important it
was for him to please her. She appeared to bask in the
glow of his devotion. After a moment she turned to
leave. At the doorway, she paused.
"You will be telling it all to Gisselle?" "In a few minutes," he said.
"I'm going to bed. This has all been too shocking and has drained me of most of my energy right now," she complained. "But I want to have the
strength for Gisselle in the morning."
"Of course," my father said.
"I'll see to her room," Daphne declared and left
us.
"Sit down. Please," my father asked. I took my
seat again and he sat down, too. "You want something
to drink . . . eat?"
"No, I'm fine. Nina gave me something to drink
before."
"One of her magical recipes?" he asked,
smiling.
"Yes. And it worked."
"It always does. I meant it when I said I have
respect for spiritual and mysterious things. You'll
have to tell me more about Grandmere Catherine." "I'd like that."
He took a deep breath and then let it out slowly,
his eyes down. "I'm sorry to hear about Gabrielle. She
was a beautiful young woman. I had never and have
never met anyone like her. She was so innocent and
free, a true pure spirit."
"Grandmere Catherine thought she was a
swamp fairy," I said, smiling.
"Yes, yes. She might very well have been.
Look," he said, growing very serious very quickly, "I
know how disturbing and how troubling this all must
be to you. In time, you and I will get to know each
other better and I'll try to explain it. I won't be able to
justify it or turn the bad things that happened into
good things. I won't be able to change the events of
the past or make mistakes go away, but I hope I will at
least get you to see why it happened the way it did.
You have a right to know all that," he said.
"Gisselle knows nothing then?" I asked. "Oh, no. Not a hint. There was Daphne to
consider. I had hurt her enough as it was. I had to
protect her, and there was no way to do that without
creating the fabrication that Gisselle was her child. "One lie, one mistake, usually creates the need
for another and another, and before you know it,
you've spun a cocoon of deception around yourself.
As you see, I'm still doing that, still protecting
Daphne.
"Actually, I was fortunate and am fortunate to
have Daphne. Besides being a beautiful woman, she's
a woman capable of great love. She loved my father
and I believe, she accepted all this because of her love
for him, as much as her love for me. In fact, she
accepted some responsibility."
His head bowed down into the cradle of his
hands.
"Because she was unable to get pregnant
herself?" I asked. He lifted his eyes quickly. "Yes," he said. "I see you know a lot more than
I thought. You seem like a very mature girl, perhaps a
lot more mature than Gisselle.
"Anyway," he continued, "throughout it all,
Daphne has maintained her dignity and poise. That's
why I think she can teach you a great deal and why, in
time, I hope you will accept her as your mother. "Of course," he added, smiling, "first, I have to
get you to accept me as your father. Any healthy man
can make a baby with a woman; but not every man
can be a father," he said.
I saw there were tears in his eyes when he
spoke. As he talked, I sensed every molecule of his
being was striving to reach out and force me to
understand even what he himself must have found
inexplicable.
I bit down on my tongue to keep from asking
any questions. It was difficult to breathe, not to be
drowned by everything that was happening so fast. "What's in your bag?" he inquired.
"Oh, just some of my things and some
pictures."
"Pictures?" His eyebrows rose with interest. "Yes." I opened the bag and took out one of the
pictures of my mother. He took it slowly and gazed at
it for a long moment.
"She does seem like a fairy goddess. My
memory of those days is like the memory of a dream,
pictures and words that float through my brain on the
surface of soap bubbles ready to burst if I try too hard
to remember the actual details.
"You and Gisselle look a lot like her, you
know. I don't deserve the good fortune of having two
of you to remind me of Gabrielle, but I thank
whatever Fate has brought you here," he said. "Grandmere Catherine," I said. "That's who you
should thank." He nodded.
"I'll spend as much time with you as I can. I'll
show you New Orleans myself and tell you about our
family."
"What do you do?" I asked, realizing I didn't
even know that much about him. The way I asked, the
way my eyes widened at the sight of all these
expensive furnishings in this mansion made him
laugh.
"Right now I make my money in real estate
investments. We own a number of apartment
buildings and office buildings and we're involved in a
number of developments. I have offices downtown. "We are a very old and established family, who
can actually trace their lineage back to the original
Mississippi Trading Company, a French colonial
company. My father did a genealogy which I will
have to show you some day," he added, smiling. "And
he proved that we can trace our lineage back to one of
the hundred
Fines a la Casette
or casket girls." "What were they?" I asked.
"Women back in France who were carefully
chosen from among good middle-class families and
each given only a small chest containing various
articles of clothing, and sent over to become wives for
the Frenchmen settling the area. They didn't have all