Monsieur Williams rose. "Just a few questions, if I may, Your Honor."

"Go on," the judge said.

"Monsieur Andreas. You said your wife was diagnosed with St. Louis encephalitis while you were at your country estate. A doctor made the diagnosis?"

"Yes."

"Didn't this doctor know he was diagnosing your wife, Gisselle?" Beau looked toward Monsieur Polk. "If so, why didn't you bring him here to testify that it was Gisselle and not Ruby?" Monsieur Williams hammered. Beau didn't respond.

"Monsieur Andreas?" the judge said.

"Your honor," Monsieur Polk said. "Since the twins are so identical, we didn't think the doctor would be able to testify beyond a doubt as to which twin he examined. I have researched the medical history of the twins, as much as could be researched, and we are willing to admit that identical twins share so many physiological characteristics, it is virtually impossible to use medical data to identify them."

"You have no medical records to enter into the record?" Judge Barrow asked.

"No, sir."

"Then what hard evidence to you intend to enter into the record to substantiate this fantastic story, sir?" the judge asked, getting right to the point.

"We are prepared at this time," Monsieur Polk said, approaching the judge, "to present handwriting samples that you will quickly be able to see distinguish one twin from the other. These come from school records and legal documents," Monsieur Polk said, and presented the exhibits.

Judge Barrow gazed at them. "I'd have to have an expert analyze them, of course."

"We would like to reserve the right to bring them to our experts, Your Honor," Monsieur Williams said.

"Of course," the judge said. He put the exhibits aside. "Are there any more questions for Monsieur Andreas?"

"Yes," Monsieur Williams said, and stood his ground between Beau and us. He smiled skeptically. "Sir, you claim Paul Tate, once hearing of this fantastic scheme, volunteered to take the sick twin into his home and pretend she was his wife?"

"That's correct," Beau said.

"Can you tell the court why he would do such a thing?"

"Paul Tate was devoted to Ruby and wanted to see her happy. He knew Pearl was my child and he wanted to see us with our child," Beau added.

Gladys Tate groaned so loud, everyone paused to see. She had closed her eyes and fallen back against Octavious's shoulder.

"Monsieur?" the judge asked. Octavious whispered something in Gladys's ear and her eyelids fluttered open. With great effort, she sat up again. Then, she nodded she was all right.

"And so," Monsieur Williams continued, "you are telling the court that Paul Tate willingly took in his sister-in-law and then pretended she was his wife to the extent that when she died, he fell into a deep depression which caused his own untimely death? He did all this to make sure Ruby Tate was happy living with another man? Is that what you want this court to believe?"

"It's true," Beau said.

Monsieur Williams widened his smile. "No further questions, Your Honor," he said. The judge told Beau he was excused. He looked very dark and troubled as he returned to his seat beside me.

"Ruby," Monsieur Polk said. I nodded and he called me to the stand. I took a deep breath and with my eyes nearly closed, walked to the witness chair. After I was sworn in, I took another deep breath and told myself to be strong for Pearl's sake.

"Please state your real name," Monsieur Polk said.

"My legal name is Ruby Tate."

"You have heard Monsieur Andreas's story. Is there anything with which you wish to disagree?"

"No. It's all true."

"Did you discuss this switching of identities with your husband, Paul, and did he indeed agree to the plan?"

"Yes. I didn't want him to be so involved," I added, "but he insisted."

"Describe the birth of your child," he said, and stood back.

I told the story, how Paul had been there during the storm to help with Pearl's birth. Monsieur Polk then took me through many of the highlights of my life, events at the Greenwood School, the people I had known and things I had accomplished. After I finished with that, he nodded toward the rear and an assistant brought in an easel, some drawing pencils, and a drawing pad.

Monsieur Williams shot up out of his seat as soon as it was obvious what Monsieur Polk wanted to demonstrate. "I object to this, Your Honor," Monsieur Williams cried.

"Monsieur Polk, what do you plan to enter into the record here?" the judge asked.

"There were many differences between the twins, Your Honor, many we recognize will be hard to substantiate, but one is possible, and that is Ruby's ability to draw and paint. She has had paintings in galleries in New Orleans and—"

"Your Honor," Monsieur Williams said, "whether this woman can draw a straight line or not is irrelevant. It was never established that Gisselle Andreas could not."

"I'm afraid he has a point, Monsieur Polk. All you will show here is that this woman can perform artistically."

Monsieur Polk sighed with frustration. "But, Your Honor, never in Gisselle Andreas's history has there ever been any evidence. . ."

The judge shook his head. "It's a waste of the court's time, monsieur. Please continue with your witness or enter new exhibits or call another witness." Monsieur Polk shook his head. "Are you finished with this witness?"

With deep disappointment, Monsieur Polk replied, "Yes, Your Honor."

"Monsieur Williams?"

"A few minor questions," he said, dripping with sarcasm. "Madame Andreas. You claim you were married to Paul Tate even though you were still in love with Beau Andreas. Why did you marry Monsieur Tate, then?"

"I . . . was alone and he wanted to provide a home for me and my child."

"Most husbands want to provide homes for their wives and children. Did he love you?"

"Oh yes."

"Did you love him?"

"I . . .”

"Well, did you?"

"Yes, but . . ."

"But what, madame?"

"But it was a different sort of love, a friendship, a . . ." I wanted to say "sisterly," but when I looked at Gladys and Octavious, I couldn't do it. "A different sort of love."

"You were man and wife, were you not? You were married in a church, you said."

"Yes."

He narrowed his eyes. "Did you see Monsieur Andreas romantically while you were married to Monsieur Tate?"

"Yes," I said, and some in the audience gasped and shook their heads.

"And according to your tale, your husband was aware of this?"

"Yes."

"He was aware of this and he tolerated it? Not only did he tolerate it, but he was willing to take in your dying sister and pretend it was you so you would be happy." He spun around as he continued, directing himself to the audience as much as he directed himself to the judge. "And then he became so depressed over her death that he drowned in the swamp? This is the story you and Monsieur Andreas want everyone to accept?"

"Yes," I cried. "It's true. All of it."

Monsieur Williams gazed at the judge and twisted the corner of his mouth until it cut into his cheek.

"No further questions, Your Honor."

The judge nodded. "You may step down, madame," he said, but I couldn't stand. My legs were like wet straw and my back felt as if it had turned to jelly. I closed my eyes.

"Ruby," Beau called.

"Are you all right, madame?" the judge asked.

I shook my head. My heart was pounding so hard, I couldn't catch my breath. I felt the blood drain from my face. When I opened my eyes, Beau was holding my hand. Someone had brought up a wet cloth for my forehead and I realized I had fainted.

"Can you walk, Ruby?" Beau asked.

I nodded.

"We'll have a short recess," the judge said, and slammed his gavel down. I felt as if he had slammed it down on my heart.


17

  Thicker Than Water

During the recess Beau and I were shown to a waiting room in which there was a small sofa. Beau had me lie down and keep the wet cloth on my forehead while Monsieur Polk went to make a phone call to his office. He looked glum and disturbed. In fact, I thought he seemed angry at us for bringing him into the situation.

"Beau, we looked foolish in there, didn't we?" I asked mournfully. "After we told our story, the Tates' attorney made us look like liars."

"No," Beau encouraged. "People believed us. I saw it in their faces. And besides, once your handwriting is compared to Gisselle's and analyzed . . ."

"They will find an expert to discount it, You know they will. She's so determined to hurt us, Beau. She won't spare any cost. She would use Paul's entire fortune to defeat us!"

"Take it easy, Ruby. Please. We have to go back and—"

We both turned when the door opened and Jeanne entered. For a moment no one spoke. She held the door partially opened behind her as if she might change her mind and bolt out of the room any moment.

"Jeanne," I said, sitting up. "Please, come in."

She stared at me, her eyes watery. "I don't know what to believe anymore," she said, shaking her head. "Mother swears you and Beau are just good liars."

"No, Jeanne. We're not lying. Remember when you came to me and we had that nice talk before you got married? Remember how you weren't sure you should marry James?"

Her eyes widened and then narrowed. "Ruby could have told you."

I shook my head. "No. Listen. . ."

"But even if you are Ruby, I don't know how you could have hurt my brother like you did."

"Jeanne, you don't understand everything. I never meant to hurt Paul, never. I did love him."

"How can you say that with him right here?" she asked, nodding at Beau.