"I think I'll just do what you suggested, Daddy, and relax here."

"Fine," he said. "About fifteen minutes?"

"Yes. I'm getting up," I said. He smiled and left.

Maybe what I had suggested I would do would be a wonderful thing. Maybe that was the way to get Daddy out of the melancholia Daphne had described and I had witnessed last night. To Daphne, it was all simply too embarrassing. She had no tolerance for it, and Gisselle certainly couldn't care less. Maybe this was one of the reasons Grandmère Catherine sensed I belonged here. If I could help lift the burden of Daddy's sadness, I could give him something a real daughter should.

Buoyed by these thoughts, I rose quickly and dressed to go down to breakfast. As was proving to be more the rule than the exception, Daddy and I had breakfast together while Daphne remained in bed. I asked Daddy why she rarely joined us.

"Daphne likes to wake up slowly. She watches a little television, reads, and then goes through her detailed morning ministrations, preparing to face each day as if she were making a debut in society," he replied, smiling. "It's the price I pay to have such a beautiful and accomplished wife," he added.

And then he did something rare: he talked about my mother, his eyes dreamy, his gaze far-off.

"Now Gabrielle, Gabrielle was different. She woke like a flower opening itself to the morning sunlight. The brightness in her eyes and the rush of warm blood to her cheeks were all the cosmetics she required to face a day in the bayou. Watching her wake up was like watching the sun rise."

He sighed, quickly realized what he was doing and saying, and snapped the newspaper in front of his face.

I wanted him to tell me so much more. I wanted to ask him a million questions about the mother I had never known. I wanted him to describe her voice, her laugh, even her cry. For now it was only through him that I could know her. But every reference he made to her and every thought he had of her was quickly followed by guilt and fear. The memory of my mother was locked away with so many other forbidden things in the closets of the Dumas past.

After breakfast, I did what my father suggested—I curled up on a bench in the gazebo and read a book. Off, over the Gulf, I could see rain clouds, but they were moving in a different direction. Here, sunlight rained down, occasionally interrupted by the slow journey of a thin cloud nudged by the sea breeze. Two mockingbirds found me a curiosity and landed on the gazebo railing, inching their way closer and closer to me, flying off and then returning. My soft greetings made them tilt their heads and flick their wings, but kept them feeling secure, while a gray squirrel paused near the gazebo steps to sniff the air between us.

Every once in a while, I closed my eyes and lay back and imagined I was floating in my pirogue through the canals, the water lapping softly around me. If there was only some way to marry the best of that world with this one, I thought, my life would be perfect. Maybe that was what Daddy had dreamt would happen when he began his love affair with my mother.

"So there you are," I heard a voice cry out, and I opened my eyes to see Beau approaching. "Edgar said he thought he saw you go out here."

"Hi, Beau. I completely forgot that I suggested you come by today," I said, sitting up.

He paused at the gazebo steps. "I've just come from Claudine's," he said. The look on his face told me he already knew more than I anticipated.

"You know what they did to me, don't you?"

"Yes. Billy told me. The girls were all still asleep, but I had a few words with Gisselle," he replied.

"I suppose everyone's laughing about it," I said. His eyes answered before he did. They were full of pity for me.

"A bunch of sharks, that's all they are," he snapped, the blue in his eyes turning steel cold. "They're jealous of you, jealous of the way everyone has taken to you at school, jealous of your accomplishments," he said, and drew closer. I looked away, the tears welling up.

"I'm so embarrassed, I don't know how I'll go to school," I said.

"You'll go with your head high and ignore their sneers and their laughs," he proclaimed.

"I'd like to be able to say I could do that, Beau, but—"

"But nothing. I'll pick you up in the morning and we'll walk in together. But before that . . ."

"What?"

"I came over here to ask you to dinner," he stated with a polite formality, pulling his shoulders back to assume his young Creole gentleman image.

"Dinner?"

"Yes, a formal dinner date," he said. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him I had never been on a dinner date before, formal or informal, but I kept silent. "I have already taken the liberty of making reservations at Arnaud's," he added with some pride. I assumed from the way he spoke, this was to be a very special evening.

"I'll have to ask my parents," I said.

"Of course." He looked at his watch. "I have a few errands to run, but I'll call you about noon to confirm the time."

"All right," I said breathlessly. A dinner date, a formal date with Beau . . . everyone would hear about this, too. He wasn't just being nice to me in school or just giving me a ride home.

"Good," he said, smiling. "I'll call you." He started away. "Beau."

"Yes?"

"You're not doing this just to make me feel better after what they did, are you?" I asked.

"What?" He started to laugh and then turned serious. "Ruby, I just want to be with you and would have asked you for a date whether they pulled that stupid joke on you or not," he declared. "Stop underestimating yourself," he added, turned and walked off leaving me in a whirlpool of mixed emotions that ranged from happiness to terror that I would make an absolute fool of myself and simply add to what had already been done to make me look like I didn't belong.

"What?" Daphne said, looking up sharply from her cup of coffee. "Beau asked you to dinner?"

"Yes. He's calling at noon to see if it's all right for me to go," I said. She looked at my father, who had been sitting with her on the patio, having another cup of coffee. He shrugged.

"Why is that so surprising?" he asked.

"Why? Beau has been seeing Gisselle," she replied.

"Daphne, darling, they weren't engaged. They're just teenagers. Besides," he added, beaming a smile at me, "you hoped the time would come when people would accept Ruby as one of us. Apparently, the way you've dressed her, the advice and instruction you have given her on how to carry herself and speak to people, and the good example you set has had remarkable results. You should be proud, not surprised," he added.

Daphne's eyes narrowed as she thought.

"Where is he taking you?" she asked.

"Arnaud's," I said.

"Arnaud's!" She put her coffee cup down sharply. "That's not just any restaurant. You have to wear the proper things. Many of our friends go to that restaurant and we are friendly with the owners."

"So," my father said. "You'll advise her how to dress." Daphne wiped her lip with the napkin and considered. "It's time you went to a beautician and had something done with your hair and your nails," she decided.

"What's wrong with my hair?"

"You need your bangs trimmed and I'd like to see it conditioned. I'll make an appointment for this afternoon. They always find time for me at a moment's notice," she said confidently.

"That's very nice," my father said.

"Then you've made a full recovery from your stomach problem?" Daphne asked me pointedly.

"Yes."

"She looks fine," my father said. "I'm very proud of the way you're adjusting now, Ruby, very proud."

Daphne glared at him.

"You and I haven't been to Arnaud's in months," she remarked.

"Well, I'll make a note of that and we'll go soon. We don't want to go the same night Ruby does. It might make her uncomfortable," he added. She continued to glare.

"I'm glad you're worried about her discomfort, Pierre. Maybe you'll start thinking about mine now," she said, and he reddened.

"Go on upstairs, Ruby," she commanded. "I'll be right up to choose your clothes."

"Thank you," I said. I glanced quickly at my father who looked like a little boy who had just been reprimanded, and then I hurriedly left and went up to my room. Why was it that every nice thing that happened to me here always brought along some unpleasantness? I wondered.

Shortly afterward, Daphne came marching into my room.

"You have a two o'clock at the beauty parlor," she said, going to my closet. She threw open the sliding doors and stood back, considering. "I'm glad I thought to buy this," she said, plucking a dress from its hanger, "and the matching shoes." She turned and looked at me. "You're going to need a pair of earrings. I'll let you borrow one of mine and a necklace, too, just so you don't look underdressed."

"Thank you," I said.

"Take special care with them," she warned. She put the dress aside and focused her gaze on me with suspicion again. "Why is Beau taking you to dinner?"

"Why? I don't know. He said he wanted to take me. I didn't ask him to take me, if that's what you mean," I replied.

"No, that's not what I mean. He and Gisselle have been seeing each other for some time now. You come onto the scene and suddenly, he leaves her. What's been going on between you and Beau?" she demanded.

"Going on? I don't know what you mean, Mother."

"Young men, especially young men of Beau's age, are rather sexually driven," she explained. "Their hormones are raging so they look for girls who are more promiscuous, more obliging."

"I'm not one of those girls," I snapped.