"It was you who was with Buck Dardar that night, wasn't it? That's why your shoes are caked with mud. You snuck down there and—"

"So what? He was the only game in town, although I must admit, he was quite a good lover. I hated to see him go, but when you were accused of being there, I thought it was perfect. Finally we'd get out of here too. Then your own loverboy had to appear and get you off the hook. Crummy luck."

"Did Buck think you were me? Did you tell him your name was Ruby?"

"I did, but I don't know whether he believed it or not. Let's just say he was happy to pretend I was anyone I wanted to be as long as I appeared."

"How often . . . All those times you kept this door locked," I said, turning to her door. I looked at the window.

"That's right. I would crawl out the window and have my rendezvous. Pretty exciting, huh? I bet you wish you had thought of it now."

"I do not." I pulled myself up. "You're going to march out of here right now and tell the truth," I said. "Especially to Mrs. Gray."

"Oh, am I? Well I'm not ready to let people know I can stand and walk," she said, returning to her chair.

"I don't care if you're ready or not. You will tell," I assured her, but she didn't seem intimidated. She wheeled herself toward me and looked up at me with hard, cold eyes.

"I will not," she said, "and if you so much as breathe a word of this to anyone, I'll tell Mrs. Ironwood about you and your precious Miss Stevens. That oughta do her in for sure."

"What? What are you saying?"

She smiled.

"Everyone knows about pretty little Miss Stevens who's afraid of boys but who likes to be around girls," she said, smiling. "Especially you, huh?"

It was as if a match had been lit in my stomach. The flame of anger singed my heart and sent smoke into my brain. I gasped.

"That's a disgusting, terrible lie, and if you tell anyone such a thing . . . ″

"Don't worry. I'll keep your secret as long as you keep mine," she said. "Is it a deal?"

I stared down at her, my mouth open, but words not coming, my tongue numb.

"I take your silence to mean it's a deal. Fine." She turned and wheeled herself to the door to unlock it. "Now, I do need some rest before dinner. Oh, and thanks for straightening up my room. I have been too hard on myself, trying to be independent. I might call on you to do little things for me from time to time. As long as we stay here," she added.

"Of course, once we're gone from this place . . ."

"You're blackmailing me," I finally accused. "That's what you're doing."

"I'm just trying to get along as easily and as comfortably as I can. If you were a good sister and if you really cared about me, you would do what I want for a change."

"So you're going to stay in that wheelchair and let everyone think you're still crippled?"

"As long as it suits me," she said.

"I hope it suits you forever," I snapped, and marched to the door. "I feel sorry for you, Gisselle. You hate yourself so much, you don't even realize it."

"Just remember what I said," she retorted, her eyes small and spiteful. "I meant it."

I opened the door to get a breath of fresh air as much as to get away from my twin sister, whose vicious, selfish face, despite the resemblances, made it clear we were truly strangers.


14

  Unexpected Gifts

From my expulsion hearing until the start of our holiday break, I did the best I could to avoid and ignore Gisselle. It was obvious that she took delight in holding the dark cloud of her threat over me, and if I should so much as stare distastefully at her while she pretended to struggle along in her wheelchair or cried out for one of her entourage to do something for her, she would give me that icy smile and ask, "How is Miss Stevens?" I would simply shake my head in disgust and either walk away or return to what I was reading or doing.

Because of this constant tension between us at Greenwood, I looked forward eagerly to the holiday break. I knew that back in New Orleans Gisselle would amuse herself with her friends, and I could avoid her even more. Of course, I was anxious to see Beau, who was phoning me almost every night, but before I left, I knew that I had to visit Louis. He called to tell me he had decided that he would rather begin his stay at the clinic in Switzerland and attend the music conservatory during the holidays than remain at the Clairborne mansion for what he called another dreary Christmas. He anticipated an even more cheerless time because of my absence and his grandmother's and his cousin's lingering displeasure over what he had done for me at the hearing.

So I went up to the mansion to have dinner with him the night before the school vacation commenced. His grandmother did not appear anywhere in the house, not even to peer at me through a partially open doorway, much less come to the table. Louis and I sat alone in the large dining room, with the candles burning, and had a delicious duck dinner, followed by a French chocolate silk pie.

"I have two presents for you," Louis declared at the end of the meal.

"Two!"

"Yes. I've been to the city for the first time in . . . I don't even remember how long . . . and bought you this," he said, and then he produced a small box from his dinner-jacket pocket.

"Oh Louis, I feel terrible. I haven't brought you anything."

"Of course you have. You brought me your company, your concern, and you've given me the desire to want to see and be productive again. There's no way to measure the value of such a gift, but I assure you," he said, taking my hand for a moment, "it's worth far more than anything I could possibly give you in return."

He felt for my hand and then brought it to his lips and kissed my fingers.

"Thank you," he said in a deep whisper. Then he sat back and smiled. "And now open your first gift and don't swallow any reactions. I don't see clearly yet, but I can hear very well."

I laughed and untied the tiny ribbon so I could peal off the pretty paper without tearing it. Then I opened the small box and looked at what had to be a full carat ruby set in a gold ring. I gasped.

"Is it as beautiful as I have been told?" he asked.

"Oh Louis, it's the most beautiful ring I've ever seen! It must have cost a fortune."

"If it doesn't fit, I'll have it sized for you. Put it on," he said, and I did.

"It fits perfectly, Louis. How did you do it?"

"I've memorized every part of you that I have touched," he said. "It was easy. I felt the finger of the saleswoman in the store and told her you were two sizes smaller." He smiled proudly.

"Thank you, Louis." I leaned forward and kissed him quickly on the cheek. His expression changed into a serious one instantly. Then he brought his fingers to his cheek as if he could feel the warmth of my lips still lingering.

"And now," he said firmly, bracing himself for my words, "you must tell me if what I see with my heart is true."

I held my breath. If he was going to ask me if I loved him . . .

"You love someone else," he said instead. "Don't you?" I turned from him and looked down, but he reached out to lift my chin.

"Don't look away, please. Tell me the truth."

"Yes, Louis, I do. But how did you know this?"

"I heard it in your voice, in the way you held back whenever you spoke softly to me. I felt it just now in your kiss, which was the kiss of a good friend and not the kiss of a lover."

"I'm sorry, Louis, but I never meant to . . . "

"I know," he said, finding my lips with his fingers. "Don't think you need make excuses. I don't blame you for anything and I don't expect anything more from you. I am still forever in your debt. I hope only that whoever you love is deserving of your love and will love you as strongly as I would."

"So do I," I said.

He smiled.

"Now let's not get melancholy. As we French Creoles say, Je ne regrette rien, eh? I regret nothing. Besides, we can always be good friends, can't we?"

"Oh yes, Louis. Always."

"Good." He beamed a bright smile. "I can't ask for any better Christmas present. And now," he said, rising, "your second gift. Mademoiselle Dumas," he requested, holding up his arm for me to take, "permit me to escort you, s′il vous plâit."

I took his arm and we walked out of the dining room and into the music study. He brought me to the settee first and then he went to the piano and took his seat. "Your symphony is complete," he announced.

I sat there and listened to him play the most wondrous and beautiful melodies. I felt swept away by the music; it was truly a magic carpet taking me to the most marvelous places in my imagination and in my memory. Sometimes the music reminded me of the sound of the water flowing through the canals in the bayou, especially after a heavy downpour; sometimes I heard the morning songs of birds. I saw sunsets and twilights and dreamt of blazing night skies when the stars were so bright they lingered for hours on the surface of my eyes even as I slept. When the music ended, I was disappointed it was over. Louis had outdone anything I had heard him do before.

I rushed to him and threw my arms around his neck. "That was wonderful! Too wonderful for words!"

"Hey," he said overwhelmed by my reaction.

"It's incredibly beautiful, Louis. Really. I have never heard anything like it."

"I'm so glad you like it. I have something special for you," he said, and he reached under the stool to bring up another gift-wrapped box, this one much larger. I unraveled the ribbon quickly and peeled off the paper to open the lid of the box and look in at a record.