A dead silence fell between us.

"I'm sure they'll find him," Beau finally said.

Toby turned to him slowly and fixed her eyes on him in a cold glare. "Have either of you ever been in the swamps? Do either of you know what it could be like? You make a turn and find yourself floating through overhanging vines and cypress branches and soon you forget how you got there and have no idea how to get out. It's a maze full of poisonous copperhead snakes, alligators, and snapping turtles, not to mention the insects and vermin."

"It's not that bad," I said.

"Oh really. Well then, march on out of here with your husband and join the search party," Toby retorted with a bitterness that shot through my brain like a laser beam.

"I plan on doing just that. Come on, Beau," I said, spinning around and marching out. Beau was at my side, but he wasn't enthusiastic.

"You really think we should go into the swamps, Ruby? I mean, if all these people who live here can't find him . . ."

"I'll find him," I said firmly. "I know where to look." Jeanne's husband, James, was at the dock when we arrived. He shook his head and lifted his arms in frustration.

"It's impossible," he said. "If Paul doesn't want to be found, he won't be found. He knows these swamps better than he knows the back of his hand. He grew up in them. We're giving up for tonight."

"No, we're not," I said sharply.

He looked up, surprised. "We?"

"Is that your boat?" I asked, nodding toward a dinghy with a small outboard engine.

"Yes, but . . ."

"Please, just take us into the swamps."

"I just came back, and I assure you—"

"I know what I'm doing, James. If you don't want to go along, let us just borrow your boat," I insisted.

"You two? In the swamps?" He smiled, sighed, and then shook his head. "All right. give it one more sweep. Get in," he said.

Beau, looking very uncomfortable, stepped into the dinghy after me and sat down. James handed us torches. Then we saw Octavious arriving with another group. His head was down like a flag of defeat.

"Paul's father is taking it very hard," James said, shaking his head.

"Just start the engine, please," I said. "Please . . ."

"What do you expect to be able to do that all these other people, some of whom fish and hunt in here, couldn't do?"

I stared. "I think I know where he might be," I said softly. "Ruby once told me about a hideaway she and Paul shared. She described it so well, I'm sure I could find it."

James shook his head skeptically but started the engine. "All right, but I'm afraid we're just wasting our time. We should wait for daylight."

We pulled away from the dock and headed into the canal. The swamps could be intimidating at night, even to men who had lived and worked them all their lives. There wasn't enough of a moon to give much illumination, and the Spanish moss seemed to thicken and blacken to form walls and block off other canals.

The twisted cyprus branches looked like gnarled old witches, and the water took on an inky thickness, hiding tree roots, dead logs, and, of course, alligators. Our movement and the torches kept the mosquitoes at bay, but Beau looked very uncomfortable and even frightened. He nearly jumped out of the dinghy when an owl swooped alongside.

"Go to the right, James, and then, just as you come around the bend, bear left sharply."

"I can't believe Ruby gave you such explicit directions," he mumbled.

"She loved this spot because she and Paul spent so much time there," I said. "It's like another world. She said," I added quickly.

James followed my directions. Behind us, the torches of other searches dimmed and were lost. A sheet of darkness fell between us and the house. Soon we could no longer hear the voices of men in the search party.

"Slower, James," I said. "There's something I have to look for and it's not easy at night."

"Especially when you've never been here before," James commented. "This is futile. If we just wait until morning—"

"There," I said, pointing. "You see where that cypress tree bends over like an old lady plucking a four-leaf clover?"

"Old lady? Four-leaf clover?" James said.

"That's what Paul told Ruby all the time." Neither James nor Beau could see the smile on my face. "Just turn right sharply under the lower branch."

"We might not fit under that," he warned.

"We will if we bend down," I said. "Slowly."

"Are you sure? We'll just get hung up on a rock or a mound of roots or—"

"I'm sure. Do it. Please."

Reluctantly he turned the dinghy. We dipped our heads and slipped under the branch.

"I'll be darned," James said. "Now where?"

"You see that thick wall of Spanish moss that reaches the water?"

"Yeah."

"Just go through it. It's the secret doorway."

"Secret doorway. Damn. No one would know that."

"That's what I meant by it being another world," I said. "You can cut the engine. We'll float on through and we'll be there."

He did so and I held my breath as the dinghy pierced the moss, which parted like a curtain to permit us to enter the small pond. Once we were completely through, I raised my torch and Beau did the same.

"Just paddle in a circle slowly," I said. The glow of our torches lifted the darkness, uncovering the pond. Snakes or turtles slithered beneath the surface, creating ripples. We saw the bream feeding on the mosquitoes. An alligator lifted its head, its teeth gleaming in our light, and then it dove. I heard Beau gulp. Somewhere to the right, a hawk screeched. On the shore of the pond, a half dozen or so nutrias scrambled for cover.

"Wait, what's that?" James said. He stood up and poked into the water with his oar to draw a bottle closer to the dinghy. Then he reached in to pluck it out of the water. It was an empty bottle of rum. "He was here," James said, looking around harder. "Paul!" he screamed.

"Paul!" Beau followed.

For a moment I couldn't form his name on my lips. Then I cried out, too. "Paul, please, if you're here, answer us."

Nothing but the sound of the swamp animals could be heard. Over to the right a deer rustled through the bushes. Terror jumped into my heart, flooded my eyes.

"Just keep rowing around the pond, James," I said, and sat back, but held my torch high to the right while Beau held his to the left. The water lapped against the dinghy. There was barely a breeze and mosquitoes began to sense our presence with delight. Suddenly the round bottom of a pirogue became visible. At first it looked like an alligator, but as we drew closer, it became clear that it was Paul's canoe. No one spoke. James poked it with his oar.

"It's his, all right," he said. "Paul!"

"Over there. Is that something?" Beau asked, leaning with his torch. James turned the dinghy in the direction Beau was pointing, and I brought my torchlight to bear as well. Slumped over a large rock, his chatlin hair matted and muddied by the water, Paul lay facedown. He looked like he had dragged himself up and collapsed. James turned the dinghy so he and Beau could stand up and reach Paul's body. I started to step toward him, too, when Beau turned sharply.

"Don't!" be ordered. He seized me at the elbows to hold me back and get me to sit. "It's not pretty and he's gone," he said.

I slapped my palms over my face and screamed. My shrill cry pierced the darkest corners and shadows in the swamp, sending birds flapping, animals scurrying, and fish diving. It echoed over the water and was finally stopped by the wall of dark silence that waits out there for all of us.

The doctor said Paul's lungs were so full of water, he had no idea how Paul had managed to drag himself up the rock a few inches, much less enough to get his entire body up. There he took his last gasps and passed away. Miraculously, no alligator got to him, but the death by drowning had distorted him and Beau was right to keep me from looking.

Cypress Woods was already a house in mourning, so it just continued under the dark cloud of more grief. Servants who had cried so hard over what they thought was my death now had to find another well of tears from which to draw. Paul's sisters, especially Toby, had anticipated bad news, but were devastated nevertheless and retreated with James into the privacy of the study, while Octavious went upstairs to be with Gladys.

I felt so weak all over, my body so light, I thought I would get caught up in the wind and be carried into the night. Beau clutched my hand and put his arm around my shoulders. I leaned against him and watched them bring Paul's body up from the dock. Beau wanted us to return immediately to New Orleans. He was insistent and I had no strength to resist, no words to offer in argument. I let him lead me to our car and slumped down in the seat as he drove us away. I had cried dry that bottomless pit of tears.

When I closed my eyes, I saw Paul as a young boy riding his motor scooter up to Grandmère Catherine's front gallery. I saw the brightness in his eyes when he set them on me. Both our voices were full of excitement then. The world seemed so innocent and precious. Every color, every shape, every scent, was richer. When we were together, exploring our young feelings, we were like the first couple on earth discovering things we couldn't imagine others discovering before us. No one ever adequately explains the wonder born in your heart when you undress your new feelings in front of someone who is undressing his, too. That trust, that childhood faith, is so pure and good, you can't imagine any betrayals. Surely all the trouble and misery you know and hear about in the world around you will be walled out by these powerful new feelings woven into an impenetrable fabric. You can make promises, expose your dreams, and dream new things together. Nothing seems impossible and the last thing you can imagine is that some malicious Fate has been toying with you, leading you down a highway that will bring you to these tragic, dark moments.