"Maybe that's where she'll go, Daddy," I said hopefully. "Then she'll come home quickly."

"Maybe, but she obviously hasn't gone there yet." He reached for his bottle of bourbon.

"Daddy, please don't drink too much tonight."

He hesitated and nodded. "You're right. I'd better stay alert. Who knows what will happen next?" he said, which put the pitter-patter in my chest and turned my legs to cold stone.

Another hour passed. Mrs. Hockingheimer tried to feed Pierre, but he was reluctant to open his mouth. I knew why. He wanted his mother. I stayed away from his room, not knowing what white lie to tell.

Daddy and I tried to eat a little, but neither of us had much of an appetite. We talked and waited and shifted our eyes from the clock to the door. Every gong of the grandfather clock was like a punch in the stomach. After dinner we went up to visit with Pierre. Mrs. Hockingheimer must have been wondering where Mommy was too, but she was too polite to inquire. She stepped out of the room while Daddy and I tried to talk to Pierre about everything else. Every once in a while, his eyes shifted back to the door until finally a single tear crawled over his right eyelid, and his lips began to move.

"Mom . . . Mommy . . ." he said.

"Mon Dieu," Daddy said, bouncing up. "I can't stand this any longer." He charged out of the room and down the stairs.

I turned back to Pierre and took his hand into mine. "Mommy's very troubled and confused by what has happened, Pierre. She's trying to find the answers, but she loves you very much and wants to do something to help make you better quickly. She'll be here as soon as she can. You'll see," I promised, and then I kissed his cheek.

"Mom . . . Mommy," he repeated. He closed his eyes.

Mrs. Hockingheimer returned and examined him when she saw the concern on my face. "He's just exhausted," she said. "For him in his fragile state, being brought out of the hospital and set up here was a major effort."

I nodded and rose as she helped Pierre lean back on his pillow. It looked as if he had fallen asleep. In this case, I thought, that was a blessing.

I went downstairs to look for Daddy and found him pacing back and forth in his study and gulping from a tumbler of bourbon. He was muttering to himself. "What right has she to do this? Why isn't she thinking of Pierre, if not of me? And Pearl. We have a family to protect, a little boy to heal. How could she do this?"

"Daddy, don't. . ."

He paused and looked at me, blinking madly.

Suddenly he tilted his head as if he had just heard something no one else could hear.

"Oh, Pearl," he said in a hoarse whisper.

"What is it, Daddy?"

"I don't think . . ."

"What, Daddy? What don't you think?"

"I don't think she's ever coming back," he said.


8

  A Letter Comes

I sat by the front window and waited, my eyes constantly searching the street for signs of Mommy. Daddy's words had put butterflies in my stomach. They fluttered in a frenzy and crawled through my chest. My heart felt like a lead fist pounding my blood through my veins. The grandfather clock bonged; Aubrey turned down the lights and the traffic outside all but disappeared. Still there was no sign of Mommy. Daddy made a few more phone calls, all dead ends. He came to the doorway occasionally and we exchanged looks of futility.

"Did you look in on Pierre?" he asked after a deep and long sigh.

"Yes. He's asleep. He barely ate."

Daddy nodded, looked at his watch, and then returned to his study, where I knew he was drinking himself into a stupor.

Finally, a little after nine-thirty, I saw a figure cross the street and approach our gate. When she stepped into the light, however, I realized it wasn't Mommy. It was a very tall, thin black girl in a long black skirt and a gray sweatshirt. When she headed for our front door, I rose in anticipation, but Aubrey was there before me to answer the bell. I think he was just as nervous as I was about Mommy's disappearance. Daddy either hadn't heard the bell or was too unsteady now to come out to see who it was.

"Yes?" Aubrey asked.

"I have a letter to deliver, sir," the girl replied with a French accent. "I was told to put it directly into the hands of Mademoiselle Pearl or Monsieur Andreas," she added firmly.

"You can give it to me and I'll deliver it," Aubrey said, his hand out.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I cannot give it to anyone else," she insisted.

Aubrey was about to reply when I stepped closer. "It's all right, Aubrey. I'll look after this. I'm Mademoiselle Pearl. How can I help you?"

The tall girl studied me a moment and nodded. She didn't look more than fourteen or fifteen, but she had a strong and confident air about her that suggested she was older. She had a very smooth and shiny complexion with large ebony eyes, which captured the entryway light and sparkled like polished onyx, "I was asked to deliver this to you," she said handing me the letter.

I took it quickly. There was no name on the envelope and no return address. "Who sent this?"

"Everything is explained in the letter," she said. She didn't smile, but she fixed her eyes on me so intently that I felt as if she were delving into my very soul. Then she gave me a small, tight smile, turned, and walked out. I watched her step quickly over the tile patio and into the darkness from which she had so suddenly emerged.

Aubrey waited beside me, his face full of concern.

"It's all right, Aubrey," I said. He closed the door and returned to his quarters.

I looked at the envelope more closely and noticed some sort of red powder on the flap. I opened it quickly and saw it was addressed to Daddy and me and it was in Mommy's hand.

My heart stopped and then began beating madly. Without reading the first word, I pulled open the front door and lunged down the steps. I ran over the tile drive and into the street just as the tall, black girl turned the far corner. She was walking very quickly.

"Wait!" I screamed, but she didn't hear me. I ran up the street after her. When I turned the corner, she was heading toward the streetcar. "Wait!" I shouted. The streetcar rumbled down the tracks to the station. "Please, mademoiselle, wait."

I ran as fast as I could. She turned as she stepped up to the car and looked my way, but she didn't hesitate. She got in, and the car door closed just as I approached. I saw the girl take a seat by an open window in the rear. She gazed out at me. I waved the letter and ran alongside the car.

"Where is she? It's my mother! Where is she?" I cried.

The girl stared out at me without speaking.

"Please!" I cried as the car began to pull away from me. Suddenly the girl threw something out of the window. It bounced on the grass in front of me as the streetcar made a turn and disappeared. I stopped to catch my breath. My heart was a wild frantic animal in my chest, thudding so hard that my ribs felt as if they would burst. Gasping for air, I stepped forward until I found what she had thrown. Whatever it was, it was in a small cloth sack. I picked it up and undid the string, pausing to look in the direction of the streetcar. What could this have to do with Mommy?

I felt something hard in the bag and pulled it out carefully. The moment I set eyes on it, I screamed and dropped it. It was the head of a snake. My heart seemed to jump out of my chest and into my throat. I felt my face turn crimson, and for a moment it was as if I had stepped into a hot oven. People driving by slowed down to gaze at me. I'm sure I looked wild and hysterical, gasping, crying, shaking my head. Finally, after I got control of myself, I turned and hurried back to the house.

As soon as I entered, I hurried down the hallway to Daddy's study. He was seated behind his desk, but had turned his back to the door and was gazing up at a portrait of himself and Mommy, a portrait she had painted from a photograph. He had a tumbler of bourbon in his right hand.

"Daddy, Mommy has sent us a letter!" I declared.

He turned slowly. His face was streaked with tears. He wiped them away with the back of his hand quickly. "What's that? A letter?"

"Some girl just delivered it. I tried to run after her and question her, but she got on the streetcar before I could stop her. She threw something terrible out the window at me when I screamed for her to tell me where Mommy was."

"Terrible? What?"

"A sack containing the head of a snake," I said, crying.

"Head of a snake? How sick."

"And there's red powder on the envelope," I said, holding it up for him to see.

"Red powder. Another voodoo thing," he said with an expression of disgust. "Where is she? What does the letter say?"

"I don't know. I haven't read it yet."

"Well, read it," he ordered and sat forward. I turned on the lamp near me and opened the letter.

My precious husband Beau and my precious daughter Pearl,

By the time you read this, I will be long gone. I tell you that so you won't go searching wildly over the city to find me and bring me back. That's why I waited until now to write and deliver this letter.

I know that you do not believe as strongly as I do in the powers of the unknown, but the two of you were not brought up in a world in which such things dwelt. I am the granddaughter of a true traiteur, and as such I have some spiritual insight. I know that more than ever now.

Last night I spoke with the dead. Nina's voice was clear, and her spirit was in me. She regretted not having been able to speak with me before our tragedy. She thinks it might have been prevented.