Hidden Jewel

16

The Real Thing

Despite her fatigue, Mommy rose before either Jack or I did. We heard her moving about, and then I heard her call for me. I got up quickly and rushed out to her. She wore a distraught and confused expression.

"It all seems like one long nightmare," she said and then, like one who had woken from more than just a night's sleep, she firmly added, "We must get home."

"Good morning, Madame Andreas," Jack said, emerging from the bedroom. Mommy glanced at me oddly for a moment.

"You remember Jack, Mommy."

"Yes. I'm sorry. I'm just so mixed up this morning. Good morning," she said.

"Did you sleep all right on that sofa? It's very comfortable. I've fallen asleep on it often," he said, smiling.

Mommy's lips relaxed. "I slept in places a lot less comfortable in the last few days," she said.

"How about some breakfast? I'll make coffee," Jack suggested.

"We've got to go," Mommy said, almost in a whisper to me.

"First, put something in your stomach, Madame Andreas. You'll need your strength," Jack insisted. "Yes," Mommy said. "We will."

She was very quiet while we drank coffee and ate fruit and toast, but her eyes kept shifting from Jack to me. She watched his every move and seemed to have her eyes on us whenever Jack and I gazed at each other.

"Shouldn't we call Daddy and tell him you're on the way home, Mommy?" I asked.

"What? Oh, yes, of course," she said, still acting a bit dazed. "I'm just not thinking too straight yet. My head feels stuffed with clouds."

I called home. Aubrey got Daddy on the phone immediately when he heard I had Mommy waiting to speak to him.

"You found her!" Daddy cried. "Oh, thank God. And thank you, Pearl. Please let me speak to her."

I handed Mommy the phone.

"Hello, Beau. . . . I'm fine now. We'll soon be on our way home." She listened and then started to cry softly. "I'm sorry," she said in a cracked voice. "I'm very sorry." She couldn't say another word. Instead, she shook her head and handed me the phone.

"Ruby, Ruby?" Daddy was calling.

"She's all right, Daddy. She's just overwrought right now. We'll just finish our breakfast and then we'll be on our way."

"Hurry, but drive carefully," he said.

Mommy had sat down again. I asked Daddy softly if he had heard anything new from the hospital.

"No. No change," he replied.

"See you soon, Daddy," I told him and cradled the receiver. I went to Mommy and put my arm around her.

She cried softly. "No matter . . . what I do, I make more trouble," she said with a sigh.

"It's not your fault. You've got to stop blaming yourself for things. All of us bear some responsibility for our own actions. The blame can't all fall on your shoulders."

"Let's go," she said pushing away her cup and plate. "I can't eat another thing."

I helped her up.

"You sure you can make this drive yourselves?" Jack asked me.

"I'm fine, Jack. We'll be all right once we get started," I said.

He followed us out and helped Mommy get into the car. "Take care of yourself, Madame Andreas. I will say a prayer for you."

"Thank you." She looked surprised as she gazed at him.

Jack came around the car to say good-bye to me. We stood outside, the car door still closed.

"I'll be coming for my clothes," he kidded. "Maybe I won't want to give them back. I've grown quite fond of them."

"Then I'll leave without them, but at least I'll have seen you."

"You know what this means, don't you? You'll be forced to come into the city where you have to strain your neck to see the sun."

He laughed. Then his face turned very serious, his eyes fixed firmly on mine. "I wouldn't be afraid to live in total darkness if you were with me, Pearl. You would bring me my sunlight."

His words brought tears of joy to my eyes, and then he glanced quickly at Mommy before chancing a good-bye kiss. His lips only grazed mine, but I closed my eyes and savored the instant, embossing it on my memory.

"Please be careful," he said squeezing my hand. "I'll call you later today."

"Good-bye Jack." I opened the door. "Thanks for all you've done."

I got into the car and started the engine. Mommy was biting down on her lower lip and holding back her tears. We drove off slowly. In my rearview mirror, I saw Jack watching us. The other riggers were starting to arrive. Some beeped their horns and waved.

"Everyone seems to know you," Mommy said, amazed.

"Oil riggers are a tight group," I replied, remembering how Jack had described them. "They help each other and anyone each of them cares about. Once they heard what had happened to me, they volunteered to do all sorts of things for Jack and me."

As we made the turn away from his trailer, and as the house began to disappear behind us, a soft smile couched itself on my lips.

Mommy noticed. "How did you meet this young man?"

"We met when Daddy and I first came to Cypress Woods looking for you. He takes care of my well, number twenty-two," I said proudly.

"Your well? Oh. Paul's legacy to you." She grew sad again. "He was so fond of you."

"It's horrible how the Tates are permitting the house to fall apart, isn't it, Mommy?"

"Yes. It was once the most beautiful home in the bayou. Paul was so proud of it and everything in it. I remember the day he brought you and me to see it completed. He couldn't stop bragging about his special windows and his chandeliers," she said.

"I met Uncle Paul's mother," I said and described my visit to Aunt Jeanne's home.

Mommy listened as I told her the things Gladys Tate had said, but she didn't seem angry. "She put us through hell, but I can understand her terrible loss now and why she wanted to hurt us. Of course, hate poisons after a while, and that's the second tragedy," she added.

"But from what you've told me and from what I could see, Gladys Tate wasn't a happy woman even before all this happened."

"No. She had many crosses to bear. She made herself believe she was Paul's natural mother for her own sake as well as for his. I do believe she loved him as much as a natural mother could love a son. But she was possessive and always very angry. She had a bad marriage. Octavious was a ladies' man from the start and strayed often from their marriage bed. My mother wasn't his only conquest," she muttered. "Grandmère Catherine used to say unhappiness was a hungry snake that fed upon itself until it swallowed itself. The more miserable their marriage was, the more he wandered, and the more he wandered, the more miserable Gladys became. She's to be pitied now."

"I wonder why Gladys and Octavious got married, then," I said.

"Sometimes people get married for all the wrong reasons, but don't realize it until it's too late," Mommy explained. "The Tate fortune, the factory—all of it was in Gladys Tate's family, not Octavious's. He was a handsome, debonair man who chained himself to a woman for the money and property she possessed. I'm sure he said all the right things to her. Perhaps he didn't convince her he was in love with her; perhaps she convinced herself because she wanted to believe it, but the effect was the same. They started building a life on a foundation of lies, made promises they knew in their hearts they would never keep, and kept adding to the illusion until the devil came knocking and Octavious answered the door.

"So you see, you have to be careful, Pearl," Mommy said sharply, turning to me. "You have to avoid the swamp of illusions and false promises. They dangle words in front of you, words that sparkle like diamonds, but when you reach out for them, you find they are only flecks of glass that shatters in your fingers and falls into dust at your feet.

"Sometimes they don't even mean to be false to us. Sometimes they believe their own false promises; they swallow their own illusions, too. But that's even worse, for when they are sincere, you accept and believe and give yourself completely to the dreams. You float higher and higher, and the fall is that much more severe. Believe me, I know.

"This young man," she said jerking her head to-ward the rear, "how involved have you become with him?"

"His name is Jack, Mommy, Jack Clovis. He's not just another young man."

"Jack," she said. "You were sleeping with him last night, weren't you?"

"Jack is the first man I've met who I felt was real, Mommy. He's sincere, and he doesn't make promises he can't keep. His feet are set solidly in reality. He's not a dreamer," I told her.

She shook her head skeptically. "What I've been trying to tell you, to show you with my own tragic background, is that you have to be extra careful. For some reason the Landry line was born to hoe a harder field, a field filled with sharp rocks and webs of stubborn weeds."

"I am extra careful, Mommy. I've always been. You know that."

"I know, but when you came up here looking for me, you were emotionally distraught. You have to be sure that what you see in this man and what he says to you isn't colored by your own vulnerability. He must have seemed like a guardian angel to you."

"He did," I declared. "And rightly so."

"I'm afraid for you," she said, her chin quivering. "Don't make the mistakes I did. Take your time, and when your heart is pounding and your body is demanding that you give yourself completely, step back and think of me.

"When you make a mistake, you hurt not only yourself but also the people you love.

"When I was living in the bayou with you, and Gisselle wrote me that your father was going to marry someone else, I thought I'd go mad. He had given me up for dead. Here I was a young woman with a baby, so I gave in to the illusions and the promises and the hope that Paul offered. I wanted to believe I could live in a magical world where we would be forever safe and protected. But that's when all the tragedy had its ugly start." She began to cry softly again.

"It's all right, Mommy. Please don't cry." I reached for her hand.

"Poor Jean," she muttered. "My poor baby. He's gone, gone . . ."

The pain in my heart was so heavy I thought I wouldn't be able to keep driving. I took deep breaths while Mommy whimpered softly. Finally she stopped, closed her eyes, and fell asleep against the window. When I gazed at her, she looked as if she had aged years. The sight of her brought the stinging, hot tears to my eyes and clouded my vision. It was as if it was raining.

It looked as if it might storm anyway. The sky was heavily overcast with some bruised, dark clouds rolling in from the southwest.

When I pulled onto the main highway, the bayou began to drop behind me, flowing back as if it had all turned liquid and was pouring down a drain. The toothpick-legged shacks were still visible here and there, and I saw oyster fishermen and Cajun women and children harvesting Spanish moss. We passed a few roadside stands, and then the road became relatively deserted for a while.

I thought about Jack and the things Mommy had said. Maybe she was right; maybe I was in a weak and vulnerable state when we met, but why did that have to mean what we felt for each other was just illusion? And why did that have to mean that Jack was less sincere than I thought he was? Sometimes tragic and difficult times bring together people who are meant to be together, I reasoned. Mommy was understandably wary, but I needn't live like that, too.

I didn't regret anything that had happened between Jack and me. Our loving remained an oasis of happiness in a sea of turmoil and pain. Everyone was always warning me about the dangers inherent in first love. It was better to be cautious, modest, reasonable, everyone said.

But I was convinced that what I felt in my heart now for Jack was more than just a young girl's first infatuation. He and I had found depths of feelings together that were beyond the reach of mere girlish crushes.

No, Mommy, I thought. Don't worry about my relationship with Jack. It's built on solid ground, not swampland, and the only illusion for us was the idea that we could ever forget each other and what we had come to mean to each other.

I sped up. The rain started just before we reached New Orleans, but it was a slow, steady drizzle rather than a blinding downpour. Mommy woke up after we crossed the bridge and started down the city streets toward the Garden District. In the gray light of morning, the city looked tired, worn. Without the glow of neon signs, the rainbow colors of costumes, and the sound of music, New Orleans in the morning resembled an aging woman caught without her make-up. Street cleaners were still trying to remove the debris cast about by frenzied partygoers. Sleepy store owners opened their doors and squinted at the daylight.

The rain slowed to a sprinkle, but the air was so hot and humid already that the sidewalks looked steamy. "Are you all right, Mommy?" I asked.

She flashed a smile and nodded. "There were moments when I thought I would never set eyes on this city again," she said. "But that's over." She squeezed my hand. "Let's get Daddy and go to Pierre."

The rain came to a complete stop when we reached the Garden District. I pulled into our driveway, and we hurried up the steps to the front door. Aubrey, who knew we were on our way, must have been waiting by the window, for the door was thrust open before we reached it.

"Welcome home, madame," he said quickly. The warmth in his moist eyes was as much emotion as Aubrey had ever shown.

Mommy surprised him with a quick embrace. "Where's Monsieur Andreas?" she asked.

Aubrey was flustered for a moment. "Monsieur Andreas . . . oh, upstairs. I helped him dress. He's practicing with the crutches."

We charged up the stairway. When we reached the open door to Mommy and Daddy's suite, I stepped back. Daddy was up, leaning on his crutches, his leg in a cast. He stopped and looked at Mommy for a moment. "Ruby," he said, teetering.

She rushed forward, and he embraced her, the crutches falling to the floor. She held him firmly, and they stood there clinging to each other for a long moment. Their embrace sent my fugitive tears flowing freely down my cheeks. After another moment I picked up Daddy's crutches and held them out to him.

"What are you wearing?" he asked me with a quizzical smile.

"These are Jack's clothes, Daddy."

"Why?" He looked at Mommy.

"It's a bit of a horror tale," she said. "Let her shower and change. I need to shower, too. Then we'll go to the hospital, and Pearl will tell you all of it."

"But where have you been, Ruby? What have you been doing?"

"I'll tell you everything, too, Beau. Just give me a chance to catch my breath."

"Are you in any pain, Daddy?" I asked.

"Nothing I can't endure now," he said, shifting his eyes away shamefully. He knew I was aware of what had happened, but this wasn't the time or the place to blame anyone for anything. None of that seemed important anyway.

I kissed him quickly on the cheek and hurried to shower and dress, praying that it wasn't too late to help Pierre._

Mommy wasn't prepared for the sight she would see in the ICU. Even I, who had seen Pierre here before, was frightened by the pallid skin and the way his ashen complexion almost turned his hair gray. His lips were colorless. The skin on the back of his hands looked wrinkled. He lay so still he resembled a mannequin. The nurse explained that he had just had a dialysis treatment.

Mommy stood staring at Pierre. She was a few feet from the bed. It was as if the last twenty or thirty inches were impassable after the emotional journey she had just taken. Daddy stood beside her, leaning on his crutches.

"He looks as if he's shrinking," Mommy moaned. "I don't remember him being so small."

"It's just because he's in such a big bed, Mommy," I said. "Come, talk to him. I'm sure he'll hear you."

She nodded and finally stepped up to the bed. I got her a chair and she sat down, holding Pierre's hand in hers.

"Pierre, my darling. My sweet baby, please get well. I'm here now, here to help you," she said. "We need you to get well, Pierre. Please try."

The tears were streaming down her cheeks. She leaned over and kissed Pierre's cheek, but it must have been like kissing a corpse. His eyelids didn't flutter; his lips didn't move. All we heard was the beep, beep, beep of heart monitors and other hospital machinery.

Mommy turned desperately to Daddy. He bit down on his lower lip and shook his head.

"Where's the doctor?" Mommy asked me.

"I'll go see." I went to the nurses' station. Dr. LeFevre wasn't expected until midafternoon, but Dr. Lasky expected to visit his patients in about an hour.

"We can go downstairs to the hospital cafeteria and have something to eat while we wait, Mommy," I told her. She was just staring at Pierre.

"No, you go ahead, dear," she said. "Take Daddy. I must stay here now."

I thought the nurse might not like it, but this ICU nurse was more compassionate and understanding. She just nodded. Daddy and I went to the cafeteria. After I got us some sandwiches and drinks and brought them to the table, I began to tell Daddy about my near tragedy in the bayou and what had happened to Buster Trahaw.

Daddy sat listening with his mouth open. "I let you down," he said. "I let everyone down by drinking myself into a stupor and falling down the stairs, breaking my leg. There you were, doing the things I should have been doing and endangering yourself, while I lay in a stupor. I don't deserve any good luck or happiness."

It was as if a transfusion of iron had been shot through my veins and into my spine. I straightened up quickly and snapped at him. "Stop this right now, Daddy. I don't want to hear another note of self-pity from your lips. Mommy desperately needs us to be strong for her, and Pierre will need us more than ever. There isn't any time to sit around bemoaning all the tragedy."

He looked up, surprised at my harsh tone, but I couldn't help speaking to him that way.

"When I was alone in that canoe, drifting from one canal to the other, lost and exhausted, I could think of only one terrible thing: I had let you and Pierre and Mommy down. If we just dwell on ourselves, we will become pitiful, and whatever evil looms around us will have its day with us," I concluded sternly.

"You, Pearl?" Daddy said, starting to smile. "You have come to believe in the power of spirits?"

"I believe in the power of the soul, yes. I believe we can do battle with what seems to be our destiny. If you don't try, you will be carried away by the winds of darkness. I don't believe in voodoo rituals or have faith in good-luck charms, but at least the people who do have faith in these things believe they can change their destiny. They have some grit," I added, and Daddy laughed.

Then he grew dark and serious.

"You seem to have grown years older in just a few days, Pearl. I sense a greater maturity in you. It's as if you have leaped over time." He sat back and stared at me a moment. "This Jack Clovis, he was a great help?"

"Yes," I said.

"You've become very fond of him?"

"Yes," I admitted. "And in a mature way," I added.

Daddy nodded. He looked very sad again for a moment and then sighed. "It's not easy to see your little girl become a woman. Goodness knows, no one knows the dangers that befall young people better than we now know them, but there's a wall of innocence around a young girl. Her pains and disappointments are all small compared to what she can endure later: a boy she likes doesn't ask her to the prom, her hair isn't as soft or as stylish as she would like, she has a pimple on her chin.

"I bet you've forgotten the time when you were in third grade and some boy said your head was far too big for the rest of you. You came running home crying that day, and Mommy was out visiting an art gallery where one of her exhibitions was being staged. I was in the office, and you came to my door in tears. I had to run a tape measure around your head and then work out the proportions to prove you weren't a freak. How easy it was to drive the demons away from you then. How hard it becomes now."

"Why must there be any demons, Daddy?"

"It just seems there always are," he said. "But I suppose if you find the right man he will have the weapons with which to protect you. I hope you will find a man who can do better for the woman he loves than I have."

"Stop it, Daddy!" I ordered.

"Okay, okay," he said, raising his hands. "I'll be the man you think I am." He straightened up. "You're right. There isn't any time for self-pity." He bit into his sandwich. "Tell me more about this Jack Clovis."

I didn't mind. I could have talked about Jack for hours. Daddy listened and nodded as we finished our lunch. He enjoyed teasing me about Jack, but I was so sad about leaving him that I welcomed even Daddy's joking.

Mommy was sitting right where we left her, holding Pierre's hand and staring at his quiet face. I had brought her a cold drink, and she sipped it through a straw, but she insisted she wasn't hungry.

Dr. Lasky arrived and examined Pierre. Then he met with us outside. "Physically, he's slipping," he said bluntly. "His kidneys remain shut down; his blood pressure is too low. Despite his youth, I am worried about pneumonia. I am sorry, monsieur," he said directing himself to Daddy because Mommy stood with her head bowed while he spoke. "I wish I could give you a better report."

Daddy thanked him, and then we all sat down in the waiting room. Mommy laid her head on Daddy's shoulder. No one spoke for the longest time. Our thoughts and prayers were with Pierre. Looking through the windows toward the northwest, I saw that the layer of thick gray clouds was beginning to break apart. I thought to myself that Jack was gazing up at blue sky now, and I wondered how often he had thought about me since Mommy and I had left.

A short time later Dr. LeFevre arrived and Daddy introduced her to Mommy. I sensed her disapproval and anger when she spoke to Mommy. Her tone was coldly correct and firm, but Mommy didn't get upset with her.

"Of course, it would have been much more to Pierre's advantage had you been here sooner, Madame Andreas," she pointed out sharply, "but we must make the best of your presence now. I have spoken with Dr. Lasky and he agrees. We will move Pierre to a private room so you can spend longer periods of time with him uninterrupted. Of course you will need a private nurse around the clock," she told Daddy. "If you like, I will arrange for that."

"Please do, Doctor. What do you think of his chances?" Daddy asked and reached for Mommy's hand.

Dr. LeFevre thought a moment. She was careful when she spoke. "As I explained, each time your son fell back into a comatose state, he fell deeper and deeper and took longer and longer to emerge, and each time he regained consciousness, it was for a shorter period. Little by little, he's drifting away, almost like someone drowning, coming up occasional-ly for air, and sinking under again." She couldn't have chosen a more horrible comparison for my mother and me.

Mommy's face contorted. She groaned, and then her eyes rolled back in her head. I cried out as Daddy struggled to keep her standing despite his being on crutches. Dr. LeFevre helped us get Mommy to the sofa. I ran for a cup of cold water, and she was revived.

"I'm sorry," she said after swallowing some water.

"It's all right, madame," Dr. LeFevre said, with more compassion now. "Such news comes like a punch in the stomach, I know."

Mommy gazed at her with an expression that said, "You don't know. You couldn't even imagine."

"If you're all right, I'll see to the arrangements for moving Pierre," Dr. LeFevre said.

"Thank you," Daddy told her, and she left us. The three of us sat there, Daddy and I with our arms around Mammy.

"It's as if the snake had bitten both of the boys," she muttered. "As if the poison had traveled through Jean into Pierre. It's how they always were, remember, Beau? Once one got sick, the other followed soon after."

"Pierre is going to get better, Mommy," I insisted.

She turned to me with wet eyes, smiling at me as if I were so innocent and foolish. "He doesn't want to get better, Pearl. That's the problem now," she said.

"Then we have to make him want to," I insisted. "I will not let him drown."

I got up and ran from the lounge, my own tears flying from my cheeks, my heart pounding. I charged out into the corridor, not thinking about where I was headed, and just marched quickly past the rooms, past patients in wheelchairs, past nurses and doctors. I stopped when I realized I had walked to the linen closet. The door opened and Sophie emerged. Her eyes widened with happiness when she saw me.

"Pearl! How you been? Where you been? How's your brother?" she asked. Her arms were filled with sheets and pillowcases.

"Sophie. Oh, Sophie," I said, and the dam holding back my tears broke.

She dropped her pile of linens and embraced me. "You come in here," she said and led me back into the linen room. "Sit down," she ordered, forcing me to sit on a carton. "Now stop wailing and tell me what happened."

"Pierre's very bad," I said after a deep breath. "The doctor's aren't very encouraging."

"Well, the doctors don't know everything, Pearl. I've seen old people on their deathbed snap their eyes open and start yelling at me for not bringing them their juice or tea fast enough. Why, once they pronounced a man dead and he got up and left the hospital, he was so mad."

"No, they didn't," I said, smiling through my tears.

"I swear," she said holding up her hand. Then she laughed. "I missed you, and a lot's happened here since you've been gone."

"What's happened?" I wiped away the tears with the back of my hand.

"Dr. Weller was asked to leave," she said in a hoarse whisper. "He done something a doctor ain't supposed to do with a young lady patient. There was a big hullabaloo, but everyone tried to keep it squashed. Next thing I heard, he wasn't a doctor here no more."

"What did he do to her?" I asked, holding my breath.

"Nothing much, except make her pregnant," she said, and then her eyes widened. "There's talk the hospital might be sued, too. Guess you're lucky you didn't become his study partner, huh?"

"Yes," I said. "But it's tragic for everyone."

"My mama says you play, you pay. Just remember, I told her, I'm not getting pregnant until I'm married. You want to come with me and get some coffee or tea or juice?" she asked.

"No," I said, standing. "I'd better get back. My mother and father are going to need me more than ever," I said. "Pierre's going into a private room with private nurses."

"I'll look in on him, too," she said. "And I'll say prayers for him and give a donation at the church."

"Thank you, Sophie."

We hugged, and I returned to the lounge where Mommy and Daddy were still waiting for Pierre to be moved. We saw him settled comfortably in his new bed, and Daddy and Mommy spoke with the private nurse who was going to take the first shift. Mommy insisted on remaining at Pierre's bedside for the remainder of the afternoon and relented only when Daddy said he was in too much pain to remain at the hospital.

"We all need some rest now, Ruby," he said. "Otherwise we won't be able to be with Pierre as much as we like."

Reluctantly she agreed, and we went home. Mommy went right up to bed. She and Daddy had a light supper in their room. While I was eating, Aubrey came to tell me I had a phone call from a Monsieur Clovis. I left the table quickly.

"Jack!"

"I didn't want to call too soon. How are things?"

"Not good, Jack. Pierre is in a deep coma again, and the doctors are very pessimistic. They're not saying this in so many words, but I think it would take a miracle for him to recover."

"I'm sorry. I'd like to come to New Orleans, but I don't want to come at the wrong time."

"Any time you come will be the right time, Jack."

"All right," he said. "I'll be there day after tomorrow. Can you recommend an inexpensive hotel?"

"You'll stay here, Jack."

"I can't do that."

"Of course you can, and of course you will," I insisted. "We have more room than we need. If I'm not at the house, I'll be at the hospital," I said. There was a little pause before he spoke again.

"This may not be the proper time for me to say it," he told me, "but I miss you."

"I miss you, too."

I felt guilty .being happy when my parents were so sad, but I couldn't help feeling a surge of excitement when I thought about Jack coming to New Orleans. I had a better appetite when I returned to the dinner table and finished my supper. Afterward I thought about watching television or listening to some music, but decided instead to go up to my room to read for a while before going to sleep.

The lights were out in Mommy and Daddy's room, so I didn't bother them, but a little less than an hour after I had put out my own lights, I heard Mommy scream. I got up and rushed across the corridor. The lights were on, and they were both sitting up in bed. Daddy was embracing Mommy.

"What is it?" I asked, my heart pounding. hadn't heard the phone ring, but it could have. Was there bad news from the hospital?

"Your mother had a nightmare; it's all right," Daddy said.

"No," she cried pulling away from him. "It's not all right."

"Ruby!"

She shook her head vehemently and started to get out of bed.

"Where are you going, Mommy?" I asked as she reached for her clothing.

"I've got to go to Jean's grave," she said.

"Now?" Daddy said, amazed. "But it's nearly midnight, Ruby, and—"

"I have to be there at midnight," she declared. "My dream told me so."

"You can't go to the cemetery now, Ruby," Daddy said. "Be reasonable."

"Don't worry, Daddy," I said. "I'll go with her."

"But, Ruby, it's so late, and you know there are thugs loitering around the cemeteries."

Mommy continued to dress. Daddy grimaced and struggled to get his leg over the edge of the bed so he could reach for his crutches.

"What are you doing, Daddy?"

"If she insists on going, I'm going too," he declared. I turned and ran back to my room to put my clothes on.

"At least wait for me," I heard Daddy cry. Mommy charged out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Her face was like a mask, her eyes fixed and cold as she hurried by.

"Mommy, wait," I called.

"See to your father," she replied.

Daddy emerged on his crutches, moving as quickly as he could. I went to help him, but by the time we got downstairs, Mommy had already driven off.

"She's gone mad again," Daddy declared. He and I got into his car and followed. I drove. Mommy had already parked her car and gone into the cemetery when we pulled up behind her.

"What is she doing?" Daddy mumbled. I helped him out. We had a flashlight in the glove compartment, but we were fortunate in that the moon was nearly full and there were only a few small clouds. The moonlight made the tombs and vaults gleam. The polished stone looked bone-white against the darkness. I stayed right next to Daddy as he hobbled along the pathway toward my brother's grave. Mommy had lit a candle beside the vault and then had knelt and pressed her forehead to the stone. Her shoulders lifted and fell with her sobs. I left Daddy's side and hurried to her.

"Mommy." I hugged her.

"I begged him," she whispered in my ear. "He was lonely without Pierre, but I begged him to let Pierre come back." Daddy leaned on his crutches as Mommy lifted her head from my shoulders and looked up at him. "I had to be here at midnight, Beau. It's the time-when the door between the two worlds opens just enough for my words to follow the candle smoke through."

Daddy leaned on his crutches and shook his head. "You're driving us all mad now, Ruby. You've got to stop. Come home and go to sleep."

"I couldn't sleep. That's why I came here," she said. "You see that now, don't you, sweetheart?" she asked me.

"Yes, Mommy."

She touched the stone of Jean's vault lovingly and smiled. "He heard me. He won't let Pierre leave us. Jean is a good boy, a good boy."

"Come home now, Mommy. Please." I helped her to her feet. She looked at Jean's tomb again, and then the three of us, crippled by our tragedy, hobbled along the pathway past other vaults and other scenes of sadness where the ground was soaked with similar tears.

I gazed back once and shuddered with the horrible vision of a second vault, twin to Jean's.

"Please, God," I murmured, too low for Daddy or Mommy to hear, "please help us."