"No, just her granddaughter," I corrected. There was nothing holy about me, I thought.

I heard Paul return and went to greet him. He smiled, but I saw the pain in his eyes.

"They were very upset, weren't they?" I asked.

"Yes," he admitted. "My mother cried and Daddy sulked, but after a while, they'll warm up to the fact and accept it, just like I told you they will," he promised. "Of course, my sisters think it's wonderful," he added quickly. "They'll all be here tomorrow for dinner. I thought we should have the first night to ourselves. I have two of my men outside with the truck waiting to go to the shack for your things."

"Pearl's still sleeping," I said. Paul's report had quickly extinguished the excitement and happiness.

"Go on, lead them in your new car. I'll be here for her when she wakes. Go on. I've got Holly to help," he assured me.

"She'll be afraid, waking up in a strange place."

"But she's not with a stranger," he replied confidently. "She has me." I saw how much he wanted to establish himself as her father as soon as he could.

"Okay. I won't be long," I said.

At the shack I pointed out the pieces of furniture I wanted. I told Paul's men I would take the painting myself. After I put it safely in the car, I went back inside the house and stood in the living room gazing at everything. How empty and sad it looked without the few pieces of furniture. It was as if I were losing Grandmère Catherine once again, cutting off whatever spiritual attachments still bound us together. Her spirit couldn't go with me. It belonged here in these shadows and corners, in the little toothpick-legged shack that had been her mansion, her palace, her home, and mine, too, for so long. All the days here weren't happy ones, but they weren't all sad ones either.

Here she had comforted me during my moments of fear and anxiety. Here she had woven the stories and conjured up my hopes. Here we had worked side by side to make our living. We had laughed and cried and collapsed with fatigue beside each other on the old settee that Grandpère Jack had practically beaten to death in his drunken rages. These walls had soaked up the laughter and the pain and inhaled the wonderful aromas of Grandmère's cooking. From these windows at night, I had looked up at the moon and the stars and dreamt of princes and princesses and wove my own fairy tales.

Good-bye, I thought. Finally good-bye to childhood and all the precious innocence that kept me from seeing and believing there was any real cruelty in this world. I thought I had moved into Wonderland at Cypress Woods. So much of it seemed too wonderful to be real. But here was my true Wonderland. Here I had felt the special magic and here I had done some of my best art.

Tears trickled down my cheeks. I wiped them away quickly, took a deep breath, and hurried out of the house, down the steps of the gallery, and into my car. Without looking back, I left my past behind me a second and perhaps final time.

Now it was Paul's turn to see the sadness in my face when I returned. He had Holly and James take my things up to my room and to Pearl's nursery and then he took me out back to look at our pool and cabana. He talked about his plans for landscaping, the trees and the flowers and the walkways and fountains he envisioned. He talked about the parties we would have, the music and food. I knew he was talking a blue streak just so I wouldn't have time to brood on the past and be sad.

"There's so much to do here," he concluded. "We don't have time to feel sorry for ourselves anymore."

"Oh, Paul, I hope you're right."

"Of course I'm right," he insisted. We heard someone calling and turned to see that his sisters had arrived.

Jeanne had been in my class when I lived in the bayou. We had always been good friends. She was about an inch or so taller than I was, with dark brown hair and almond-shaped eyes. She looked more like their mother and had her deep, dark complexion, her sharp chin and nearly perfect nose. I always remembered her as a bright and happy girl.

Toby was two years younger, and although she didn't look like her mother as much, she had her mother's serious demeanor. She was a little shorter but with broader hips and a fuller bosom. She kept her dark brown hair trimly cut. Her eyes were more perceiving, studious and inquisitive. She had a way of twisting the corner of her mouth downward when she doubted or disapproved of something someone else had said or done.

"I told them to wait until tomorrow," Paul said angrily.

"It's all right. I'm glad they've come," I said, joining them. They both hugged and kissed me and then followed me up to the nursery, Jeanne chattering away as I changed Pearl's diaper.

"Of course, this is all a shock," she said. In a breathless gush, her words spilled forth. "It's so unlike Paul, Mr. Perfect Little Man."

"Why did you two do it now?" Toby asked. "Why didn't you do it as soon as you knew you were pregnant?"

I didn't look at her when I spoke, for fear she would see the lies in my face.

"Paul wanted to," I said, "but I didn't want to ruin his life."

"What about your life?" Toby countered.

"I was all right."

"Living by yourself with a baby in that shack?"

"Oh, Toby, why drag up the past? It's over now, and now look where they are," Jeanne cried, her arms extended. "Everyone's raving jealous over this house and Paul's good fortune."

Toby came up beside me and looked down at Pearl. "When did you two . . . make her?" she asked.

"Toby!" Jeanne exclaimed.

"I'm just asking. She doesn't have to say if she doesn't want to, but we're all sisters now. We shouldn't have secrets from each other, should we? Well, should we?" she asked me.

"No, not secrets, but each of us has something private in our hearts, something best kept locked up. Maybe you're still too young to understand that, Toby, but you will," I said. It was the sharpest thing I had ever said to her. She blinked and pulled her lips thin for a moment and then she nodded after considering what I had said.

"You're right. I'm sorry, Ruby."

"That's okay," I said, smiling. "We should be sisters now in every way possible."

"And we will!" Jeanne declared. "We'll help with the baby, won't we, Toby? We'll be real aunts."

"Sure," Toby said. She gazed at Pearl. "I've baby-sat enough to know how to take care of an infant."

"Pearl will get more love and attention than she can stand," Jeanne promised.

"That's all I want," I said. "That's all I really want. And all of us to become a family."

"Mother is still quite speechless, isn't she, Toby?" Jeanne said.

"Daddy isn't exactly bursting with pride and happiness either," she said.

"Maybe Daddy doesn't want to face the fact that he's a Grandpère so soon," Jeanne quipped. "Don't you think that's it, Ruby?" she asked.

I stared at her for a moment and then smiled. "Yes, probably," I said. It was uncomfortable to stand waist-high in deceptions and half-truths, but for now there was no other way, I thought.

Jeanne tried to wrangle a dinner invitation out of Paul, but he insisted they leave and return with their parents tomorrow.

"When we'll have a real celebration," he said. "Ruby and I are just very tired and we need to be alone, rest up," he explained.

Toby smirked, but after Jeanne flashed her face of disappointment, she burst into a smile and exclaimed, "Of course you should. It's your honeymoon!"

Paul shifted his eyes toward me quickly and blushed.

"As usual, Jeanne puts her foot in her mouth," Toby said. "Come on, sister dear, let's go home."

"What did I say?"

"It's all right, Jeanne," I told her. We all hugged again and they left.

"Sorry about that," Paul said, glaring after them. "I should have warned you about my sisters. They've been spoiled and think they can have anything and everything. Don't put up with their antics. Just let them know their place and everything will be fine," he assured me. "Okay?"

"Yes," I said, but it was more of a prayer than an answer.

That evening we were served the wonderful dinner. Paul talked about his oil fields and some of his other ideas for business. He told me he had made reservations for us in New Orleans and we would be going the day after tomorrow.

"So soon?"

"No sense in postponing what has to be done here. And remember, I want you at your art," he said.

Yes, I thought, it was time to return to my second great love—painting. After dinner, Paul and I wandered through the great house and discussed what we would do to complete the furnishing and the decorations. I finally realized how big a task it was going to be and wondered aloud if I was capable of doing it.

"Of course you are," he assured me. "But maybe I can get Mother to help. She loves doing this sort of thing," he said. "You can learn a lot from my mother," he added. "She's a woman of refined taste. Not that you aren't," he added quickly. "It's just that she's been buying expensive things longer than you have," he said, smiling.

"How rich are we, Paul?" I asked. Was there no end to the possibilities?

He smiled. "With the price of oil rising and the wells producing four to five hundred percent more than predicted . . . we're millionaires many times over, Ruby. Your rich stepmother and your twin sister are paupers next to us."

"Don't let them know it," I said, "or they'll be heartbroken."

Paul laughed. I confessed to being tired. Exhausted was more like it. It had been a roller-coaster day emotionally, one moment full of depression and sadness and the next moment taken to the height of happiness. I went upstairs and prepared for my first night in my beautiful new home. Once again, Paul surprised me. I found a pretty nightgown, robe, and slippers laid out on my bed. Holly had been in on the surprise. When I thanked Paul, he pretended he didn't know a thing about it.