Two days later I received what was to be my final picture postcard from Gisselle. It had actually arrived after she and Beau had already returned from Paris. She told me about their plans. Beau was returning to New Orleans to attend medical school, and she was going to attend college. Despite her horrible school records, Daphne had somehow arranged it. She promised, or I should rather say, threatened, to come visit me again. Maybe . . . with Beau.

The very thought of such a visit made me tremble. I couldn't imagine what my first words would be to him if he should ever drive up to Cypress Woods. Of course, I would bring Pearl to him quickly. She was walking now and saying quite a few words. She loved to sit on Mrs. Flemming's lap at the piano and tap the keys. Everyone who heard her said she was musically inclined.

I had completed four of the pictures for my Confederate Romance series. Paul wanted me to show them in a gallery in New Orleans, but I was not yet ready to part with them and actually feared someone buying them. Meanwhile I continued to do landscapes of the bayou and those were sent regularly to Dominique's gallery, the first gallery that had shown and sold my early works.

We learned that they were selling quickly. I no sooner had one completed and there than it was bought. Paul was delighted and had some art critic visit me to discuss my works, take pictures of my studio and of me. A few months later, the photo spread appeared in an art magazine and then in the New Orleans Times. That publicity brought a new letter from Gisselle.

. . . Daphne nearly dropped her coffee cup in her lap when she opened the paper and saw your picture. Bruce was very impressed. I don't know what Beau thought. I didn't mention it to him and he didn't mention it to me. We see each other nearly every day. I think he's on the verge of offering me a ring. You'll be the first to know. It may happen a week from today because we're all going to the horse ranch and Daphne has invited Beau, too.

Anyway, we've only got six months to go and then we inherit our fortunes. It doesn't mean all that much to you now that you are filthy rich through marriage, I know, but having control of my own money will mean a great deal to me. And to Beau.

Anyway, I suppose I should say congratulations.

So, congratulations. Why is it you were born with a talent and I wasn't if we're twins?

Gisselle

I didn't write back, for I had no answer. If she had no talent at birth, she had no curse on her either. Was it just a chance thing that she had been born first and delivered to the Dumas, and I was to remain behind and be the one who would learn all about our troubled past? I felt like throwing that in her face, but then I thought about Grandmère Catherine and how precious she had been to me. What if I had been the firstborn? I would never have known her.

Does everything good have to come with something bad attached? I wondered. Is the world a balance between good and evil? Why weren't there more angels than devils? Nina Jackson used to tell me there were far more devils and that was why we needed all the powders and the chants, the bones and good-luck charms. Even Grandmère Catherine gazed into the darkness with the belief that evil lurked within every shadow and she had to be vigilant and prepared to do battle. Was that my fate, too . . . to always do battle?

I hated when I fell into these despondent moods, but that was what Gisselle's letters and cards always did to me. But nothing she had written or would write would compare to the phone call I received from her a week later.

Paul and I were just finishing dinner. Mrs. Flemming had fed Pearl and taken her to the den to play with her toys. Molly poured us coffee and went into the kitchen to bring out the strawberry shortcake Letty had made. We were both complaining about the weight we had gained since we had moved into Cypress Woods and had Letty prepare our meals, but neither of us was willing to put restrictions on what she prepared. We laughed at our self-indulgence.

Paul began to tell me about some legislators who were trying to get him to run for office and who would be paying us a visit in a week or so when James suddenly appeared to announce I had a phone call. Neither Paul nor I had heard the phone ring.

"I was standing right beside it and picked it up quickly," James explained.

"Who is it?"

"Your sister. She sounds very excited and demanded I call you to the phone immediately," he said.

I grimaced. I was sure she was going to tell me she and Beau had become formally engaged. That was one bit of news she wanted to deliver personally so she could hear my reaction.

"Excuse me," I said to Paul, and rose.

"Take it in my office," he suggested. I went there quickly, fortifying myself for the announcement. "Hello, Gisselle," I said. "What's so urgent?" She didn't respond for a moment.

"Gisselle?"

"There's been an accident," she said breathlessly. Oh no, I thought. Beau.

"What? Who?"

"It's Daphne," she gasped. "She fell from her horse late this afternoon and struck her head on a rock."

"What happened?" I asked, my heart pounding.

"She died . . . just a little while ago," Gisselle said. "I have no father. . . I have no mother. I have only you."


7

  The Ties That Bind

Paul looked up from his coffee as I slowly reentered the dining room, One gaze at my face told him I had received bad news.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Daphne . . . fell from her horse and struck her head. She's dead," I reported in a lifeless voice. The news had left me stunned.

"Mon Dieu. Who phoned?"

"Gisselle."

"How is she taking it?"

"From the tone of her voice and the things she said on the phone, not too well, but I think she's more frightened than anything else. I'll have to go to New Orleans," I said.

"Of course. I'll cancel my meetings in Baton Rouge and go with you," he offered.

"No, you don't have to go right away. The funeral isn't until Wednesday. There's no sense in your hanging around that dreary house all day."

"Are you sure?" he asked. I nodded. "All right. I'll meet you there," he said. "What about Pearl?"

"I think it's better for me to leave her here with Mrs. Flemming."

"Okay. Tragic," Paul said, nodding slowly.

"Yes. I can't help thinking how devastated my father would have been had he been alive when this happened to her. He idolized her. I saw that from the first moment I met them."

"Poor Ruby," Paul said, rising to embrace me. "Even after I've built this little Shangri-La away from everyone, sadness still finds its way to our doors."

"There is no such paradise on earth, Paul. You can pretend and ignore just so much, but the dark clouds won't disappear. I think that's something we both better realize," I warned. He nodded.

"When are you leaving?"

"In the morning," I said numbly. Through my mind flitted all kinds of gloomy thoughts.

"I hate to see any sadness in your face, Ruby." He kissed me on the forehead and hugged me to him, pressing his lips to my hair.

"I better go see to my packing," I whispered, and hurried away, my heart feeling as if it had shrunk in my chest and only tapped a tiny beat.

The following morning, after kissing Pearl good-bye and telling Mrs. Flemming I would call often, I went out to my car. Paul had carried out my things and put them in the trunk. He was waiting for me at the car, his face downcast and troubled. Neither of us had slept well the night before. I heard and saw him come to my door several times, but I didn't let him know I was awake. I was afraid that his comforting kisses and embrace would slip into something else again.

"I really hate to let you go by yourself," he said. "I should accompany you."

"And then do what? Hold my hand? Pace back and forth thinking about all the things you could and should be doing? You would just make me nervous," I told him. He smiled.

"Just like you to always think about someone else's feelings, even at a time like this." He kissed me on the cheek and hugged me and I got into my car. "Drive carefully," he said. "I'll call you tonight."

"'Bye." With many trepidations, I headed for New Orleans.

I had the top down and wore a white silk kerchief. How much I had changed, I thought. All of the difficulties and troubles during the last year or so had aged and toughened me in ways I was just beginning to understand. A year ago, driving myself to New Orleans would have been the same as taking myself to the moon. Somewhere along this short but difficult journey I had undergone, I had left the little girl behind. I had a woman's work to do now and I had inherited the grit and the strength and the confidence from Grandmère Catherine to do it.

Despite my fears of it happening, I didn't get lost traveling the streets of New Orleans. When I pulled into the circular drive and saw Daddy's old Rolls-Royce parked by the garage, I gazed at the front door and hesitated. It had been years and years since I had entered this house. I took a deep breath and got out of my car. The new butler came to the door quickly. When he set his eyes on me, he blinked rapidly with confusion at first.

"Oh," he said. "You must be Mademoiselle's twin sister."

"That's right. I'm Ruby."

"My name is Stevens, madame," he said with a slight nod. "I'm sorry for your trouble."

"Thank you, Stevens."

"May I bring in your things?" he offered.

"Thank you," I said. I had expected to see many cars in the driveway when I pulled in and dozens of Daphne's friends gathered to console Gisselle and Bruce, but the house was quiet, empty. "Where is my sister?"