Pearl in the Mist

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.

"What is this, Louis?"

"It's my symphony," he said. "I recorded it."

"You recorded it? But how . . ."

I gazed at the label on the record. It read, "Ruby's Symphony, composed and played by Louis Turnbull."

"Louis, I can't believe it."

"It's true," he said, laughing. "They brought the machinery to the house one day and I recorded it right in this studio."

"It must have cost a lot of money."

He shrugged. "I don't care what it cost," he said.

"It's such an honor. I'll play it for anyone who'll listen. How I wish Daddy was still alive to hear this," I said. I didn't mean to inject the note of sadness, but I couldn't help it. My heart was so full, and I didn't have anyone I loved with me to share it, not Grandmère Catherine, not Daddy, not Paul or Beau.

"Yes," Louis said, his face darkening. "It's painful not to have people you really love with you when something nice happens. But," he added cheerfully, "all that will end for both of us now. I'm hopeful, aren't you?"

"Yes, Louis."

"Good. Merry Christmas, Ruby, and may you have the healthiest and happiest new year of your life."

"You too, Louis." I kissed him on the cheek again.

That night, when I walked back to the dorm, I felt lightheaded. It was as though I had drunk two bottles of Grandmère Catherine's blackberry wine. All the way back, I was followed by a black-crowned night heron who called to me with its staccato quack.

"Merry Christmas yourself," I called up to it when it swung by to alight on the limb of an oak tree. Then I laughed and hurried into the dorm. From the open doorway of her room, Gisselle saw me enter the quad and wheeled herself out to block my path.

"Have another lovely dinner up at the mansion?" she teased.

"Yes, it was lovely."

"Humph," she said, and then she noticed the box I was carrying. Her eyes brightened with curiosity. "What do you have under your arm?" she demanded.

"A gift from Louis. A record," I said. "It's a symphony he composed and had recorded."

"Oh. Big deal," she said, smirking and starting to back away.

"It is a big deal. He composed it for me and it's called Ruby's Symphony."

She stared at me a moment, her face filling with envy.

"Do you want to hear it?" I asked her. "We'll play it on your phonograph."

"Of course not," she said quickly. "I hate that kind of music. It puts me to sleep." She started to turn when she spotted my ring. This time her eyes nearly popped out of her head.

"Did he give you that too?"

"Yes," I said.

"Beau's not going to like this," she declared after narrowing her eyes. She shook her head. "Another man giving you expensive gifts."

"Louis and I are just good friends. He understands that and accepts it," I said.

"Sure. He goes and spends all this money and time on you, and all you've been giving him is conversation," she replied with a twisted smile on her lips. "Who do you think you're talking to, some dumb Cajun girl who believes in tooth fairies?"

"It's true, and don't you tell anyone anything different," I warned her.

"Or?" she challenged.

"Or I'll . . . break your neck," I threatened. I stepped toward her and she gazed at me with surprise. Then she backed away.

"Some sister," she moaned, loud enough for everyone in the quad to hear. "Threatening her crippled twin with violence. Merry Christmas," she screamed, spinning around in her chair to wheel herself back to her room.

I couldn't help laughing at her this time, which only infuriated her more. She slammed her door shut and I went into my room to pack for our trip home for the holidays.

The next day we had an abbreviated schedule, at the end of which we were all marched into the auditorium to hear Mrs. Ironwood's speech, which was supposed to be a short holiday talk, wishing us all a good vacation and a happy new year, but instead it turned into a heavy series of threats, warning us about failing to do our term papers and reminding us that shortly after our return we would be facing midyear exams.

But nothing she could do could diminish the excitement in the air. Parents were arriving to pick up their daughters, limousines were everywhere, and wherever I looked, girls were hugging each other and wishing each other happy holidays. Our teachers stood around to greet parents and wish students a good holiday too.

Our limousine was one of the last to arrive, which put Gisselle into a small rage. Mrs. Penny felt obligated to stay with her and comfort her, but that just gave Gisselle an ear to fill with her ranting. Shortly before our limousine did arrive, Miss Stevens appeared to say goodbye and to wish me a happy new year.

"I'm going to spend the holidays with one of the sisters from my old orphanage," she told me. "It's something of a tradition. We've spent dozens of Christmases together. She's the closest to being my mother."

Gisselle watched from the portico of the dorm as Miss Stevens and I hugged and kissed.

"I never thanked you enough for what you did for me at the hearing, Miss Stevens. It took courage."

"Sometimes doing the right thing does take more courage, but the feeling it gives you deep inside makes it worth it. That may be something only we artists understand," she said with a wink. "Do something with your spare time at home. Bring me back a picture of a setting in the Garden District," she said, getting into her jeep.

"I will."

"Happy new year, Ruby."

I watched her drive off and felt a sudden wave of sadness rush over me. I wished I could bring Miss Stevens back home with me. I wished I had a real home with parents who would welcome her happily and we could all enjoy the music, the food, the brightness and warmth of Christmas together.

Her jeep disappeared around the turn just as the limousine appeared. Gisselle cried out her joy, but when the driver pulled up to put our things in the trunk, she berated him unmercifully for being so late.

"I left when Madame Dumas told me to leave," he protested. "I'm not late."

Gisselle's mumbling wore down like the gradually lowering thunder of a departing storm in the bayou as we drove away from the school and headed toward New Orleans. When familiar scenery appeared, she brightened with excitement and expectation. I knew she had made phone calls to some of her old girlfriends and they had begun making preliminary plans for parties over the holidays. I just wondered what sort of greeting Daphne would give us.

To my utter surprise, we didn't find the house dark and deserted. Daphne had had the Christmas decorations hung and there was a tree bigger than last year's in the main sitting room, under which was a pile of gifts. Moments after we had arrived and gazed in at the holiday splendor, the front door was thrust open and Daphne came bursting in with a peal of laughter. She wore a white fox jacket, riding pants, and a smart pair of leather boots. She had her hair pinned up under a matching fur hat. Her full carat diamond earrings glittered in her lobes, adding even more brightness to her undeniably vibrant and beautiful face. Her cheeks were flushed, and I had the feeling that she had been drinking. There was no question that whatever period of mourning she had undergone for Daddy's death was over. Bruce, laughing almost as hard, was at her side. The two stopped in the entryway and looked at Gisselle and me.

"Why here are the little dears," Daphne said. "Home for the holidays." She pulled off her silk gloves and Bruce helped her off with her coat and then handed it to Martha, who waited obediently in the wings. "And how are the precious Dumas twins?"

"We're fine," I said sternly. Her buoyancy and happy demeanor annoyed me. This would be a Christmas without Daddy. His passing was still as painful as a raw wound, and yet Daphne behaved as if nothing had changed; if anything had, it was for the better.

"Good. I've decided to have a few holiday dinners, so there will be guests coming and going during your stay here. I myself have been invited to a friend's beach house for New Year's Eve, so I will be depending on you girls to be at your best behavior.

"You can invite friends over and go to proper parties," she declared. Her leniency and generosity took us both by surprise. "We're going to be together for years and years, and it's best to co-exist on the best of terms," she added, gazing at Bruce, who was beaming like someone about to explode with one happy declaration after another. "This is the jolliest time of the year. I've always enjoyed it, and I don't intend to spend a sad moment. Behave yourselves, and we'll all get along just fine.

"All of those gifts under the tree are for the two of you and the servants," she concluded. Neither Gisselle nor I knew how to respond. We gazed at each other with surprise and then looked at Daphne.

"Go freshen yourselves up and put on something nice. We're having the Cardins for dinner. You might remember that Charles Cardin is one of our biggest investors. Bruce," she said, turning to him. He snapped to attention and followed her into the study.

"Are my ears on right?" Gisselle asked. "I can't believe what I heard. But this is wonderful. All those gifts for us!" I shook my head. "What's the matter, Ruby?"

"Somehow all this seems wrong," I said. "With Daddy's death so recent."

"Why? We weren't buried in the vault with him. We're still alive and Daphne's right: This is the jolliest time of the year. Let's have fun. Martha!" she shouted. She looked up at me and winked.

"Yes, mademoiselle?"

"Help me up the stairs," Gisselle ordered. How long would she keep up this charade? I wondered, but I wasn't about to expose her and have her spread disgusting, untrue stories about Miss Stevens. I let her moan and groan and struggle like the cripple she wasn't.

However, afraid that Daphne would return to her domineering and restrictive ways, Gisselle was a perfect little lady at dinner that night. I never saw her so polite and charming. She spoke about Greenwood as if she loved the school and bragged about my artwork as though she were a proud sister. Daphne was very pleased and rewarded us by permitting us to be excused as soon as the dinner ended, so that we could call our friends and make plans to invite them over. Daphne, truce, and the Cardins were adjourning to the parlor for after-dinner cordials, but as we all started to leave the dinning room, Daphne called to me.

"I just want to speak with Ruby for a moment," she told her guests and Bruce. "I'll be there momentarily." She nodded toward Bruce and he led the Cardins out. Gisselle wheeled herself into the corridor, peeved at not being part of the conversation.

"I'm very pleased with the two of you," Daphne began. "You're accepting the new order of things sensibly."

Apparently Mrs. Ironwood had not informed her of the hearing or the circumstances surrounding it; or if she had, Daphne was ignoring it since the outcome was favorable, I thought.

"If you mean accepting that Daddy is gone, that's something we have to accept."

"Of course it is," she said, smiling. "You're smarter than Gisselle is. I know that, Ruby, and I know that your intelligence permits you to make the wiser decisions. That's why I always agreed with Pierre that you should be the one to look after Gisselle. I will be giving the two of you more freedom than I usually do because of the holidays, but I will be depending on you to make sure everyone behaves."

"I thought I was the hot-blooded Cajun," I replied.

Her smile faded and her eyes narrowed for a moment, but then she smiled again. "We all say things we don't mean when we're angry. I'm sure you understand. Let this be a real new year, a real new beginning for all of us," she said. "We'll wipe the slate clean and forget all the bad episodes in the past. Let's see if we can all get along and, who knows, be a family again. Okay?"

Her changed attitude bothered me. I sensed she was conniving, preparing us for something, and I couldn't help being anxious.

"Yes," I said cautiously.

"Good, because anything else would just make life unpleasant for us all," she concluded, the veiled threat clear.

I watched her leave and then followed. Gisselle was waiting in the corridor.

"What did she want?" she demanded.

"She wanted to tell me she hoped we would all have a new beginning, forget all of our past mistakes, and love each other like a family again."

"So why do you look so unhappy about that?"

"I don't trust her," I said, looking toward the parlor.

"You would say something like that. You're always imagining the worst. You're always looking at the dark side, almost hoping things will be terrible, just so you can be miserable. You like suffering. You think it's noble," she accused.

"That's ridiculous. No one likes to suffer and be unhappy."

"You do. I heard someone say your paintings show your melancholy. Even the birds look like they're about to burst into tears. Well, I'm not about to let you put a cloud over my sunny sky." Then she wheeled herself off to call her girlfriends and start to make her holiday plans.

Was she right? I wondered. Was I prone to sadness and melancholy? How could anyone like that? It wasn't that I wanted it; it was that I was so used to hard rains, I couldn't help expecting a cloudburst every time something nice happened and sunshine beamed down over me. But perhaps I should try to be a little like Gisselle, I thought, a little more carefree. I went up to my room and waited for Beau's phone call. When it came, it was so good to hear his voice and know he was so close.

"My parents are resigned to the fact that I will be seeing you," he said. "Apparently they spoke to Daphne, and she was more reasonable about it. What's going on?"

"I don't know. She's acting different, but . . ."

"But you don't trust her?"

"Yes. Gisselle thinks I'm being unnecessarily skeptical, but I can't help it."

"I don't care what Daphne's motives are as long as I can see you," he said. "Let's not even think about her."

"You're right, Beau. I'm tired of being unhappy anyway. Let's just enjoy ourselves."

"I'll come by after breakfast," he said. "I'll spend every possible waking moment with you, if you like."

"I'd like nothing better," I told him.

The days before Christmas were full of fun and excitement. As soon as I could, I told Beau all about Louis and played the symphony for him. I didn't want Gisselle planting any bad thoughts in his mind. He was understandably jealous, but I assured him Louis was someone whom I had just befriended and who had befriended me. I told him about Mrs. Ironwood's expulsion hearing and how Louis had testified on my behalf, even though it meant he would be in the doghouse with his grandmother and cousin.

"I wouldn't blame him if he did fall in love with you," Beau said.

"He asked me if I loved someone else, and I told him yes." Beau brightened.

"And he understands," I added.

Confident now that Gisselle couldn't plant any nasty seeds of doubt in Beau's mind, I relaxed and enjoyed our time together. Beau and I went for rides, took walks, and spent hours cuddling on the sofa talking. We had been separated by time and distance and events so long, it was as if we had to get to know each other again, but if it was possible to fall in love with the same person twice, I did.

At first I thought Gisselle would be envious, since she didn't have a steady boyfriend. But most of her old friends were drawn back to her, parading in and out of the house day and night. She had private parties in her room whenever Daphne left. I knew they were smoking pot and drinking, but as long as they kept the door closed and didn't bother any of the servants, I didn't care.

Daphne went out every night to parties and dinners with Bruce, but on Christmas Eve we had a special early dinner for just the three of us because Daphne was going to a Christmas party in the French Quarter.

"I thought we would have a quiet family dinner together to celebrate the holiday," she declared at the table. She was radiantly beautiful in her black velvet dress with her diamond brooch and matching earrings. Her hair had never looked softer or richer. She had planned our menu for our Christmas Eve dinner herself, asking Nina to prepare trout amandine. The dessert tray was filled with delectable choices, including tarte aux pêche, banana nut bread, lemon mousse, and chocolate rum soufflé. Gisselle sampled everything, but Daphne barely nibbled on some lace cookies. She had often told both Gisselle and myself that a lady leaves the table a bit hungry. That was the way to keep your figure.

"Well, what have you two decided to do for New Year's Eve?" she asked.

Gisselle looked at me and then blurted: "We'd like to have a party here for just a few friends." She held her breath, expecting Daphne to reject the idea.

"Good. I'll feel better knowing you two are safe at home and not riding around the streets of the city."

Gisselle beamed. Daphne had permitted us to have friends over this night too.

Why was she indulging us so? I continued to wonder, but, like Gisselle, I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

After our Christmas dinner, Bruce arrived to escort her to the party. He brought gifts for both of us and placed them under the tree.

"It'll take you two hours tomorrow morning to unwrap everything you've been given," he declared, gazing at the pile. I had to admit it was overwhelming.

"Enjoy your evening, Mother," Gisselle said as they started to leave.

"Thank you, dear. You two enjoy yours. And remember, everyone leaves by twelve," she said.

"We'll remember," Gisselle replied, then looked conspiratorially at me. The truth was that there were only two people coming to our house for Christmas Eve: Beau and Gisselle's newest boyfriend, John Darby, a good-looking dark-haired boy whose family had moved to New Orleans just this year. He had been on the football team with Beau.

Before they arrived, Edgar informed me that I had a phone call. I went into the study to take it. It was Paul.

"I was hoping you were home so I could wish you a merry Christmas," he said.

"Merry Christmas to you too, Paul."

"How are things there?"

"Something of a truce has been declared, but I keep expecting my stepmother to pop out of a closet with a whip in her hand."

He laughed. "We have a houseful of people for dinner."

"I bet you have beautiful decorations and a nice tree."

"We do," he said wistfully, "as always, but . . . I wish you were here. Remember our first Christmas together?"

"Of course," I said sadly. "Do you have any friends over, any special friends?"

"Yes," he said, but I could hear the lie. "Anyway," he added quickly, "I just wanted to wish you a quick holiday greeting. I've got to get back. Wish Gisselle a merry Christmas and happy new year for me."

"I will," I said.

"I'll speak to you soon," he promised, and hung up. I wondered if the telephone wires could withstand all of the laughter and tears, the happiness and sadness that would pass through them this night.

"Who was that?" Gisselle demanded from the doorway.

"Paul. He wants me to tell you merry Christmas and happy new year."

"That's nice, but why do you have that gloomy look on your face? Wipe it off," Gisselle ordered. She had a bottle of rum in her hands and she smiled, holding it up. "We're going to have a good time tonight."

I stared at her, my twin sister, indulgent, spoiled, capricious, and self-centered, sitting in her unnecessary wheelchair, milking everyone around her of their sympathy and using her false condition to get people to do and give her anything she wanted. At this moment on Christmas Eve, I saw her as the embodiment of all the evil inclinations in my own heart and imagined I was looking at the darker part of myself, almost like Dr. Jekyll peering into a mirror and seeing Mr. Hyde. And like Dr. Jekyll, I couldn't hate this side of myself as much as I wanted because it was still part of me, part of who I was. I felt trapped, tormented by my longings and dreams. Maybe I was just tired of being who Gisselle said I was: Miss Goody Two-Shoes.

"You're right, Gisselle. We're going to have a good time." She laughed gleefully and we went into the parlor to wait for Beau and John.

Less than half an hour after Beau and John arrived, Gisselle had John take her upstairs to her room and Beau and I were left alone. The house had grown very quiet. Nina had gone to her room, and Edgar and Martha were in their quarters. Only the occasional bong of the grandfather clock in the hallway interrupted the silence.

"I thought and thought for months about your Christmas present," Beau said after we had kissed passionately for a few moments. "What could I give a girl who has everything?"

"I'm hardly the girl who has everything, Beau. True, I live in this luxurious house and I have more clothes than I know what to do with, but . . ."

"What do you mean? You have me, don't you?" he asked, laughing. "You promised you were not going to be serious, that we'd relax and have fun, and here you are taking everything I say literally."

"You're right. I'm sorry. What did you buy the girl who has everything?"

"Nothing," he said.

"What?"

"Oh, I did buy this solid gold chain to hold it around your neck," he said, plucking the chain and his school ring out of his pocket. My breath caught in my throat. For a young Creole man in New Orleans, the giving of his school ring or his fraternity pin was a step below the giving of an engagement ring. It meant that all the words and vows we had whispered to each other and pledged over the telephone would be consummated. I would be his girl and only his girl, and he would be my young man, not only in our own eyes but in the eyes of our families and friends.

"Oh, Beau!"

"Will you wear it?" he asked.

I looked into his soft blue eyes, eyes filled with promises and love. "Yes, Beau. I will," I said, and he put it around my neck, and then with his fingers he followed the chain down to the valley between my breasts where his ring sat snugly. I thought I could feel its warmth through my blouse, a warmth that traveled with electric speed to my heart and started it racing. He brought his lips to mine and I moaned, feeling my body soften and mold to his embrace. The parlor was only dimly lit by the illumination of one small table lamp and the flickering flames in the fireplace. Beau reached over and turned of the lamplight. Then he turned my shoulders and I permitted my body to slide under him on the sofa. His lips were on my neck, his fingers unbuttoning my blouse so he could follow my breasts to their fullness.

Filled with abandon, tired of the anguish and agony that had pursued me relentlessly these past months, I turned myself to Beau with kisses that were even more demanding. Everywhere his fingers traveled I welcomed them, and when he lifted the cups of my bra away and nudged my nipples with his tongue and then his lips, I sank deeper and deeper into the warm pool of ecstasy that had flowed down from my shoulders, over my waist and legs, and brought tingling to the tips of my toes.

I kept my eyes closed and just listened to the rustling of his clothing and felt his fingers move under my skirt and slip my panties down. I raised my legs and let him take them off completely. The realization of my nudity drove my excitement to an even higher pitch. I tasted his tongue, his lips, and kissed his closed eyes. Both of us were whispering "Yes" into each other's ears. I opened my eyes for just a moment and saw the shadows and light from the fire dancing on the walls and even over us. For a moment, perhaps because of the heat between us, I felt as if we were in the fire, consuming ourselves with our own flames. But I wanted it, I wanted it very much.

I opened myself to him and he pressed himself forward and inward, calling my name as if he feared he would lose me even at this moment. I clutched his shoulders, pulling down on his back and joining him in the undulation that would make us feel as if we had become one entity. Wave after wave of passion washed over us. I couldn't distinguish one kiss from another. It became one long kiss, one long embrace, one graceful turn after another.

"I love you, Ruby. I love you," he cried at his climax. I muffled my own cries in his shoulder and hung onto him with all my might as if that would prolong the ecstatic moments. Then we stopped moving and simply held each other and breathed hard, waiting for our pounding hearts to slow down.

It had all happened so quickly. There hadn't been much of a chance to reconsider, not that I thought I would have. I had welcomed him, welcomed the relief and the passion, the love and the tenderness, the beautiful feeling; and in moments, I had smothered the darkness and the sadness that had haunted me for so long. As long as I had Beau, I thought, I would have sunshine.

"Are you all right?" he asked. I nodded. "I didn't mean to be so . . ."

"It's all right, Beau. Let's not make each other feel guilty or dirty. I love you and you love me. Nothing else matters, and that makes whatever we do good and pure, because it's good and pure to us."

"Oh Ruby, I do love you. I can't imagine loving anyone else as much."

"I hope that's true, Beau."

"It is," he promised.

The sound of Gisselle's laughter coming from the stairway sent us both into a frenzy. We replaced our discarded clothing quickly and he turned on the lamp. Then I straightened my hair. He rose from the sofa and went to the fireplace to stir the logs just before John, carrying Gisselle in his arms, entered the parlor.

"We decided to see what you two have been up to," she said. "And John's so strong, it's faster and easier for him to carry me up and down the stairs than for me to use that stupid electric chair." She clung to him like a baby chimp holding onto its mother, her arm wrapped around his neck, her cheek against his chest.

Kneeling at the fire, Beau looked at me and then up at her.

"I know that expression on your face, Beau Andreas." She smiled at me. "Don't try to hide anything from your twin sister, Ruby." She looked up at John, who was holding her as if she hardly weighed a thing. "Twins sense things about each other, did you know that, John?"

"Oh?"

"Yes. Whenever I'm unhappy, Ruby senses it quickly, and when she's been excited . . ."

"Stop it, Gisselle," I said, feeling the heat return to my cheeks.

"Wait a minute," she said. "John, bring me to the sofa." He did so, and she gazed down at me. "What's that around your neck? Is that your ring, Beau?"

"Yes," he said, standing up.

"You gave her your ring! What are your parents going to say?"

"I don't care what they say," Beau replied, coming to my side. He took my hand. I saw Gisselle's look of surprise change quickly into a look of green envy.

"Well, there's someone back at Greenwood who's going to be heartbroken," she quipped.

"I've already told Beau about Louis, Gisselle."

"You did?" she asked, dripping with disappointment.

"Yes, she did," Beau said. "I must see if I can thank him for helping her at the hearing," he added. Gisselle smirked and then beamed with excitement, her facial expressions clicking on and off and changing as if her face were a television screen changing channels.

"Well let's celebrate your giving Ruby your ring. Let's all go someplace. How about the Green Door? They don't check for IDs, or at least they never used to."

"We told Daphne we were staying at home tonight and it's late already, Gisselle. She'll be home soon."

"No she won't, and what's the difference what we said? She's being different, isn't she?"

"Which is why I don't want to upset her," I replied. "How about popcorn? We'll make it in the fireplace and play backgammon."

"Oh, that's just bundles of fun. Come on, John. Let's go back up to my room and leave these two old people knitting in the parlor." She ran her hand along John's upper arm. "Isn't he strong? I feel like a baby in his arms." She kissed him on the neck, and John blushed and smiled at Beau. "I'm so helpless," she wailed. "But John is gentle, aren't you, John?"

"What? Sure."

"Then let's go up. I need my diaper changed," she said, and laughed. I thought John was going to drop her, but he turned away, his face crimson, and hurried out of the parlor with her bouncing in his arms and giggling.

"I can't help wondering," Beau said, "why I ever started with her."

"It was Fate, Destiny. If you hadn't," I told him, "you and I might never have met."

"I love you, Ruby. I love the way you can find the good in things, even in someone like Gisselle."

"That's a challenge," I admitted, and we laughed. Then he asked me to play Louis's symphony. We sat listening with his arm around me.

"It's wonderful how you inspired someone to do something so beautiful," he confessed.

At twelve we went upstairs to call John out of Gisselle's room. She complained, of course, and did her best to try to get him to stay, if simply to violate Daphne's curfew. But Beau wasn't taking any chances about riling Daphne again. He told John sternly to come out and he did so.

I kissed Beau goodbye at the door and then went upstairs.

Gisselle was waiting in her doorway. The sight of her standing, even though I knew she was capable of doing it any time she wanted, still looked incongruous and surprising.

"Well aren't you the happy one now," she said. "You've got Beau Andreas forever and ever."

"Do you want someone forever and ever too?" I asked.

"Of course not. I'm too young. I want to explore, have fun, have dozens of different boyfriends, before I marry someone just dripping with money," she said.

"So why are you jealous?"

"I'm not jealous." She laughed. "I'm hardly jealous."

"Yes you are, Gisselle. You won't admit it, not even to yourself, but you want someone to love you, only . . . no one's going to love someone so selfish."

"Oh, don't start one of your lectures," she whined. "I'm tired. John's a very good lover, you know," she added, smiling. "A bit stupid, but a good lover. My pretending to be so helpless turns him on. It turns them all on, you know. Men like feeling in charge, even though they're not. I could play him like a . . . a flute," she said, laughing.

"So then you are going to keep pretending to be crippled?"

"Until I don't feel like it anymore. And if you have any ideas about exposing me . . ."

"I really don't care what you do, Gisselle, as long as you don't hurt anyone I care about," I said. "Because if you do . . ."

"I know. You'll break my neck. The only neck that's going to be broken around here is yours when Beau's parents find out what he's given you. You'll have to give it back, you know. You had better prepare yourself for it. Good night, dear sister, and oh . . . merry Christmas."

She closed her door and left me trembling in the hallway. She was wrong; she had to be wrong, I thought. Besides, tomorrow morning I would show Nina Beau's ring and ask her to prepare a chant or find a ritual that would throw a blanket of protection around our love.

I went to sleep, curling up in my wonderful memories of lovemaking with Beau, memories and feelings that were still so vivid, it was as if he were still beside me. I even stretched out my arm and pretended he was there.

"Good night, Beau," I whispered. "Good night, my darling Beau."

With his kiss still on my lips, I drifted back into the warm darkness of my own love-filled heart.