"I almost ran away and returned to the bayou," I confessed.

"If you ever do . . . I'll be there to help you," Paul said. "I'm working as a manager in our canning factory now," he added proudly. "I make a good salary, and I'm thinking of building my own house."

"Oh Paul, really?" He nodded. "Have you met someone then?"

His smile faded. "No."

"Have you tried?" I pursued. He turned away. "Paul?"

"It's not easy finding someone to compare to you, Ruby. I don't expect it to happen overnight."

"But it has to happen, Paul. It should. You deserve someone who can love you fully. You deserve a family of your own someday too."

He remained silent. Then he turned and smiled. "I really enjoyed your letters from school, especially all the things you've told me about Gisselle."

"She's been more than a handful, and I just know things are going to get worse now that Daddy's gone, but he left me promising to look after her. I'd rather look after a barrel of green snakes," I said. Paul laughed again, and I felt the weight of sorrow lift from my breast. It was as if I could suddenly breathe again.

But before we could continue, we saw Edgar approaching. He looked glum.

"I'm sorry, mademoiselle, but Madame Dumas wants you to come into the house and go directly to the parlor now," he said, raising his eyebrows to indicate how sternly she had given the command.

"Thank you, Edgar. I'll be right along," I said. He nodded and left us.

"Oh Paul, I'm so sorry you've come so far to spend so short a time with me."

"It's all right," he said. "It was worth it. A minute with you is like an hour back home without you anyway," he added.

"Paul, please," I said, taking his hands into mine. "Promise me you'll look for someone to love. Promise me you'll let someone love you. Promise."

"All right," he said. "I promise. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you, Ruby, even fall in love with someone else, if I could."

"You can; you must," I told him.

"I know," he said in a whisper. He looked like I had forced him to swallow castor oil. I wanted to stay with him, to talk and remember the good times, but Edgar was standing in the doorway as a way of showing me Daphne was being very insistent.

"I've got to go inside before she makes a scene that embarrasses us both, Paul. Have a safe trip back and call and write to me at school."

"I will," he said. He kissed me quickly on my cheek and hurried to his car, forcing himself not to look back. I knew it was because he had tears in his eyes and he didn't want me to see them.

I felt an ache in my heart when he drove off, and for a moment I could see that look in his face again on the day he learned the truth about us, the truth we both wished had been buried in the swamp with the sins of our fathers.

I sucked in my breath and hurried to the front entrance to see what new rules and orders Daphne wanted to lay on my sister's and my head now, now that we had no one to stand between her and us and protect us anymore.

She was waiting in the parlor, sitting back in her chair. Gisselle had been wheeled in and she waited too, fidgeting and looking very unhappy. I was surprised to see Bruce seated at the dark pine secretary. Would he be present at all our family discussions now?

"Sit down," Daphne ordered, nodding at the chair beside Gisselle. I took it quickly.

"Is Paul gone?" Gisselle asked.

"Yes."

"Quiet, the two of you. I didn't gather you here to discuss some Cajun boy."

"He's not a boy; he's a young man," I said. "And the manager of his father's factory."

"Fine. I hope he becomes king of the swamp. Now," she said, putting her hands on the arms of the chair, "the two of you will be leaving early in the morning, so I wanted to get some matters straightened out and some business conducted before I retire to my suite. I'm exhausted from all this."

"Then why do we have to leave tomorrow?" Gisselle whined. "We're exhausted too."

"It's settled: You're leaving," Daphne said, her eyes big. She calmed herself again and continued. "First, I'm cutting in half the amount of money your father was sending you. You have little or no use for spending money while you attend Greenwood anyway."

"That's not true!" Gisselle countered. "In fact, if you give us permission to leave the grounds—"

"I'm not about to do that. Do you think I'm a fool?" She glared at Gisselle as if she expected an answer. "Do you?" she taunted.

"No," Gisselle said, "but it's boring having to stay on the grounds, especially on the weekends. Why can't we take taxis to the city, go to a movie, go shopping?"

"You're there to study and work, not vacation. If you need more money for some emergency, you can phone Bruce at the office and explain what it is and he'll see to it the money is delivered—taken from your trust, of course.

"Neither of you need anything new in your wardrobe. Your father overindulged you both when it came to clothing. He insisted I take you shopping when you first arrived, Ruby. Remember?"

"I thought you wanted to do that," I said softly.

"I did what I had to do to maintain some social dignity. I couldn't have you living here and looking like a runaway Cajun, could I? But your father didn't think I had bought enough. There was never enough for his precious twins. Between both your closets, I could open a department store. Bruce knows our bills. Isn't that so, Bruce?"

"Quite true," he said, nodding and smiling.

"Explain the trust to them simply and quickly, Bruce, if you please," Daphne told him.

He pulled himself up and gazed at some documents on the desk. "Quite simply, all your basic needs are provided for: your schooling, your travel expenses, necessities, and some money for luxuries, gifts, et cetera. As it is required, it is drawn out when Daphne signs for it. If you need an extra stipend, put it in writing and send it to the office, and I'll look into it."

"Put it in writing? What are we, employees now?" Gisselle demanded.

"Hardly employees," Daphne said, her voice hard, her smile faint and sardonic. "Employees have to work for what they get."

She and Bruce exchanged a look of satisfaction before she turned back to us.

"I want to reiterate what I told you about your behavior at Greenwood. Should I be called by the principal because of some misbehavior, the consequences will be dire for you, I assure you."

"What could be more dire than having to stay at Greenwood?" Gisselle muttered.

"There are other schools, farther away, with rules far stricter than the rules at Greenwood."

"You mean reform schools," Gisselle said.

"Gisselle," I said, "stop arguing. It's no use."

She gazed at me with her teary eyes.

I shook my head. "She almost had me committed once. She's capable of anything."

"That's enough," Daphne snapped. "Go up and pack your clothes and remember my warnings about your behavior at school. I don't want to hear a bad word. It's enough that Pierre went and died and left me to be guardian over the offspring resulting from his wild indulgences. I don't have the time nor the emotional strength for it."

"Oh, you have the strength, Daphne," I said. "You have the strength."

She stared at me a moment and then put her hand on her chest. "My heart is beating a mile a minute, Bruce. I have to go up. Will you see to it that they do what they're told and the limousine is here to take them to school in the morning?"

"Of course," he said.

I rose quickly and pushed my sister out of the parlor. Maybe she realized it now; maybe she understood that when Daddy died, we had become orphans, albeit orphans from a rich family, but poorer than the poorest when it came to having someone to love and someone to love us.


12

  Dark Clouds

Despite what Gisselle had heard and seen in the parlor the day before, she somehow blamed me, insisting I hadn't done enough to persuade Daphne to let us remain at home and return to school in New Orleans.

"At least you have something there you like," she moaned before we went to sleep the night before. "You have your precious Miss Stevens and your artwork to occupy yourself, and you can run up to the Clairborne mansion to tease Mrs. Clairborne's blind grandson, but all I have is this group of stupid, immature girls with which to amuse myself."

"I don't tease, Louis," I said. "I feel sorry for him. He's someone who's suffered great emotional pain."

"And what about me? Haven't I suffered great emotional pain? I nearly died; I'm crippled. We're sisters. Why don't you feel sorry for me?" she cried.

"I do," I said, but it was half a lie, Despite Gisselle's being confined to a wheelchair, I found it more and more difficult to sympathize with her plight. Most of the time, Gisselle managed to get what she wanted no matter what, and usually at someone else's expense.

"No you don't! And now I've got to go back to that . . . that hellhole," she groaned.

She threw a tantrum and wheeled herself about her room, knocking things off the dresser and scattering clothing everywhere. Poor Martha had to come in and straighten it all out before Daphne discovered what Gisselle had done.

In the morning she sat rigidly in her wheelchair, as stiff as she would be had she been calcified, not moving a limb and making the transference from chair to chair to car that much more difficult. She refused to eat a morsel of breakfast and kept her lips so tightly pressed together, they looked stitched closed. Although Gisselle was doing all this for our step-mother's benefit, Daphne witnessed none of her tantrum. She merely sent down orders for Edgar, Nina, and the chauffeur and reminders with warnings attached for us. Bruce Bristow arrived just before we were to leave to make sure our departure went smoothly and on schedule. It was the only time Gisselle uttered a word.