"Whether it's true or not," she continued, "Cajun girls have reputations."

"It's not true. The truth is," I fumed, "so-called Creole girls of good breeding are more promiscuous."

"That's ridiculous and I don't want to hear you say such a thing," she replied firmly. I looked down. "I warn you," she continued, "if you did or if you do anything to embarrass me, embarrass the Dumas . . ."

I wrapped my arms around myself and turned away so she couldn't see the tears that clouded my eyes.

"Be ready at one-thirty to go to the beauty parlor," she finally said, and left me trembling with frustration and anger. Was it always going to be this way? Every time I accomplished something or something nice happened to me, she would decide it was because of some indecent reason?

It wasn't until Beau called at noon that I felt better about myself and the promise of the evening. He repeated how much he wanted to take me and was very happy to hear I could go.

"I'll pick you up at seven," he said. "What color is your dress?"

"It's red, like the red dress Gisselle wore to the Mardi Gras Ball."

"Great. See you at seven."

Why he wanted to know the color of my dress didn't occur to me until he came to the door at seven with the corsage of baby white roses. He looked dashing and handsome in his tuxedo. Daphne made a point to appear when Edgar in-formed me Beau had arrived.

"Good evening, Daphne," he said.

"Beau. You look very handsome," she said.

"Thank you." He turned to me and presented the corsage. "You look great," he said. I saw how nervous he was under Daphne's scrutinizing gaze. His fingers trembled as he opened the box and took out the corsage. "Maybe you'd better put this on her, Daphne. I don't want to stick her."

"You never have trouble doing it for Gisselle," Daphne remarked, but she moved forward and attached the corsage.

"Thank you," I said. She nodded. "Give my regards to the maitre d'," she told Beau.

"I will."

I took Beau's arm and eagerly let him lead me out the front door and to his car.

"You look great," he said after we got in.

"So do you."

"Thanks." We pulled away.

"Gisselle didn't come back from Claudine's yet," I told him.

"They're having a party," he said.

"Oh. They called to invite you?"

"Yes." He smiled. "But I told them I had more important things to do," he added, and I laughed, finally feeling as if the heavy cloud of anxiety had begun to move off. It felt good to relax a little and enjoy something for a change.

I couldn't help but be nervous again when we entered the restaurant. It was filled with many fine and distinguished looking men and women, all of whom gazed up from their plates or turned from their conversations to look us over when we entered and were shown our table. I went through the litany of things Daphne had recited to me on the way to and from the beauty parlor—how to sit up straight and hold my silverware, which fork was for what, putting the napkin on my lap, eating slowly with my mouth closed, letting Beau order our dinners.

"And if you should drop something, a knife, a spoon, don't you pick it up. That's what the waiters and busboys are there to do," she said. She kept adding new thoughts. "Don't slurp your soup the way they eat gumbo in the bayou."

She made me feel so self-conscious, I was sure I would do something disgraceful and embarrass Beau and myself. I trembled walking through the restaurant, trembled after we were seated, and trembled when it was time to chose my silverware and begin to eat.

Beau did all he could to make me feel relaxed. He continually complimented me and tried telling jokes about other students we both knew. Whenever something was served, he explained what it was and how it had been prepared.

"The only reason I know all this," he said, "is because my mother is amusing herself by learning how to be a gourmet chef. It's driving everyone in the family crazy."

I laughed and ate, remembering Daphne's final warning: "Don't finish everything and wipe the plate clean. It's more feminine to be full faster and not look like some farmhand feeding her face."

Even though the dinner was sumptuous and it was very elegantly served, I was too nervous to really enjoy it and actually felt relieved when the check came and we rose to leave. I had gotten through this elegant dinner date without doing anything Daphne could criticize, I thought. No matter what happened, I would be a success in her eyes, and for some reason, even though she was often unpleasant to me, her admiration and approval remained important. It was as if I wanted to win the respect of royalty.

"It's early," Beau said when we left the restaurant. "Can we take a little ride?"

"Okay."

I had no idea where we were going, but before I knew it, we had left the busier part of the city behind us. Beau talked about places he had been and places he wanted very much to see. When I asked him what he wanted to do with his life, he said he was thinking very seriously of becoming a doctor.

"That would be wonderful, Beau."

"Of course," he added, smiling, "I'm just blowing air right now. Once I find out what's involved, I'll probably back out. I usually do."

"Don't talk about yourself that way, Beau. If you really want to do something, you will."

"You make it sound easy, Ruby. In fact, you have a way of making the most difficult and troubling things look like nothing. Why just look at the way you've already memorized your part in the play and made some of the other students gain confidence in themselves . . . including me, I might add . . ." He shook his head. "Gisselle is always putting things down, belittling things I like. She's so . . . negative sometimes."

"Maybe she's not as happy as she pretends to be," I wondered aloud.

"Yeah, maybe that's it. But you've got every reason to be unhappy and yet, you don't let other people feel you're unhappy."

"My Grandmère Catherine taught me that," I said, smiling. "She taught me to be hopeful, to believe in tomorrow." He grimaced with confusion.

"You make her sound so good and yet she was part of the Cajun family that bought you as a stolen baby, right?" he asked.

"Yes, but . . . she didn't learn about it until years later," I said, quickly covering up. "And by that time, it was too late."

"Oh."

"Where are we?" I asked, looking out the window and seeing we were on a highway now that was surrounded by marshlands.

"Just a nice place we go sometimes. There's a good view up ahead," he said, and turned down a side road that brought us to an open field, looking back at the lights of New Orleans. "Nice, huh?"

"Yes. It's beautiful." I wondered if I would ever get used to the tall buildings and sea of lights. I still felt very much like a stranger.

He turned off his engine, but left the radio playing a soft, romantic song. Although it was mostly cloudy now, stars peeked down through any break in the overcast, twinkling brightly. Beau turned to me and took my hand.

"What sort of dates did you have in the bayou?" he asked.

"I never really went on what you would call a date, I suppose. I went to town for a soda. Once, I went to a fais dodo with a boy. A dance," I added.

"Oh. Oh, yeah."

I couldn't see his face in the darkness and it reminded me of our time in the cabana. Just like then, my heart began to pitter-patter for seemingly no reason. I saw his head and shoulders move toward me until I felt his lips find mine. It was a short kiss, but he followed it with a deep moan and his hands clutched my shoulders and held me tightly.

"Ruby," he whispered. "You look like Gisselle, but you're so much softer, so much lovelier that it's very easy for me to tell the difference between you even with a quick glance." He kissed me again and then kissed the tip of my nose. I had my eyes closed and felt his lips slide softly over my cheeks. He kissed my closed eyes and my forehead and then pulled me closer to him to seal my lips with his in a long, demanding kiss that sent invisible fingers over my breasts and down the small of my stomach, making me tingle to my toes.

"Oh, Ruby, Ruby," he chanted. His lips were on my neck and before I knew it, he brought them to the tops of my breasts, moving quickly to the small valley between them. Whatever resistance was naturally in me, softened. I moaned and let myself sink deeper into the seat as he moved over me, his hands now finding their way over my bosom, his fingers expertly sliding the zipper down until my dress loosened enough for him to bring it lower.

"Oh, Beau, I . . ."

"You're so lovely, lovelier than Gisselle. Your skin is like silk to her sandpaper."

His fingers found the clasp of my bra and almost before I knew it, undid it. Instantly, his mouth moved over my breast, nudging my bra away to expose more and more until he found my nipple, erect, firm, waiting despite the voice within me that tried to keep my body from being so willing. It was truly as though there were two of me: the sensible, quiet, and logical Ruby, and the wild, hungry-for-love-and-affection emotional Ruby.

"I have a blanket in the back," he whispered. "We can spread it out and lie out here under the stars and . . ."

And what? I thought finally. Grope and pet each other until there was no turning back? Suddenly, Daphne's furious face flashed before me and her words resounded: ". . . They look for girls who are more promiscuous, more obliging . . . Whether it is true or not, Cajun girls have reputations."

"No, Beau. We're going too fast and too far, I can't . . ." I cried.

"We'll just sprawl out and be more comfortable," he proposed, keeping his lips close to my ear.