Pearl in the Mist

17

A Waking Nightmare

During the days that followed, I resembled a somnambulist. I walked the corridors and grounds of Greenwood, my eyes focused on nothing, my gait slow. I barely heard anyone speaking to me or around me. I didn't know whether the sun was shining or not. One afternoon I was surprised to arrive at the dorm and discover I was wet, that it had rained and I hadn't even been aware of it.

Every day that I returned to the dorm after classes I hoped I had a message from Miss Stevens, but there were never any. I imagined she was afraid of getting me into any trouble; she was that considerate. I felt so. sorry for her, driven away by the most scurrilous, foul lies. I knew that even though Mrs. Ironwood had let her resign, she would find ways to paint Miss Stevens with the stain of immoral behavior and hurt her chances to find another job.

Finally, one afternoon when I returned, I did find a letter, but it was from Louis.

Dear Ruby,

I'm sorry it took so long for me to write to you, but I didn't want to attempt it until I could do it entirely myself. What you are reading now is a letter written solely by me, with me seeing every single letter and word I put down. Finally, I no longer have to depend on anyone to do the simplest of tasks for me. I don't have to trust anyone with my secret thoughts or put aside my embarrassment and ask for the most basic favors. I am whole again, and once again, thanks to you.

The doctors tell me my eyesight has restored itself nearly one hundred percent. I'm doing some eye muscle exercises and wearing corrective lenses for the time being. But I don't spend that much of my day doting on myself anymore. No, I spend most of it at the conservatory, where I am working with the greatest music teachers in the world, I am sure. And they are all impressed with me.

Tonight I will be giving a recital at the school's hall, and besides all the teachers and their wives, there will be dignitaries from the city. I'm trying not to be nervous, and do you know what helps me overcome it? Thinking about you and the wonderful talks we used to have.

And guess what? They are going to let me play some of your symphony. As I play I will think about your laughter and your soft voice encouraging me. I do miss you a great deal and look forward to seeing you again. Or should I say, see you completely for the first time?

I received a letter from my grandmother, and as usual, she included some news about the school. Why did the art teacher, Miss Stevens, resign? Wasn't she your favorite teacher at Greenwood? All Grandmother says about it is that she was quickly replaced.

Write back when you have a chance, and good luck with your school exams.

As always,

Your dearest friend, Louis

I put his letter aside and tried to compose a reply that wouldn't reveal how depressed and unhappy I was, but every time I began to explain why Miss Stevens was gone, I broke out in tears and those tears fell on the stationery. Finally I just jotted off a quick note, claiming I was in the middle of exams and would write him in more detail soon.

Meanwhile, it wasn't until the middle of the second week that I heard from Beau. He apologized for not calling me.

"I had to attend a family gathering and was away for the entire weekend," he claimed. Then he added, "You can't imagine how Daphne carried on about New Year's Eve when she met my parents at a restaurant last night. She made it sound as if we were all part of an orgy."

"I can imagine."

"Why do you sound so down? Is it because you miss me, because if you do. ."

"No, Beau," I said, and I told him about Miss Stevens. "You think it was Gisselle?"

"I'm positive it was Gisselle," I said. "She once threatened to do the exact same thing if I revealed the secret about her not being crippled anymore."

"Did you confront her?"

"Naturally, she denies it," I said. "It doesn't matter now. The damage has been done, and she has won what she wanted: I hate it here."

"Complain to Daphne," he suggested. "Maybe she'll let you come home."

"I doubt it," I said. "It doesn't matter anyway. I just do my work and plod on. I'm not doing much artwork. The new teacher is nice, but he's not Miss Stevens."

"Well, be up there this weekend," Beau promised.

"Saturday, late in the morning."

"Okay."

"Ruby, I hate to hear how sad you are. It makes me sad too," he said.

I was crying, but I didn't let him hear. I nodded, caught my breath, and told him I had to go finish up some homework.

He did drive up on Saturday, and the sight of him getting out of his car in front of the dorm put some sunshine in my heart. I had gone into the dorm kitchen and prepared a picnic lunch of po'boy sandwiches and apple juice. When the other girls set their eyes on him, they expressed their approval with cheers and giggles. With a blanket folded under my arm, I rushed out to meet him and go off to another part of the campus.

"Daphne was supposed to send permission for Gisselle and me to leave the campus on weekends, but she didn't," I explained, "so we can't leave the grounds."

"It's all right. It's nice here," he said, looking around.

We walked around the campus and then spread the blanket on the lawn. We both lay back on our hands and looked up at the blue sky with its puffs of creamy white clouds and talked softly. Our talk wasn't of much at all at the start. He rattled on about some of his friends back in New Orleans, the prospects for the upcoming baseball season, and his-college plans.

"You've got to get back to your art," he told me. "Miss Stevens would be very upset, I'm sure."

"I know. But right now everything I do is mechanical. I feel like a robot, getting up, getting dressed, going to school, doing my homework, studying, going to sleep. But you're right," I told him. "I do have to get back to what is most important to me."

I sat up. He played with a blade of grass and then tried to tickle me with it. I was very self-conscious about everything we did, however. We were in plain view of everyone. There was no privacy for us at Greenwood, and I could imagine even Mrs. Ironwood gaping out of a window watching us, just waiting for us to do something she considered wrong.

We ate our sandwiches, talked some more, and then went for another walk. I showed him parts of the school itself, the library, the auditorium, and cafeteria. All the while I felt we were being watched, being followed. I didn't want to take him back to my dorm. I was happy we had been able to avoid Gisselle. We ended up walking toward the Clairborne mansion. Beau thought it was an impressive old house, especially because of how it was set back, with woods between the house and the school.

It was getting late, so we started back toward the dorm and his car, but on the way, we spotted a path that went deeper into the woods, and Beau thought we should explore and see where it would take us. I was reluctant at first, still having this sense of being watched. I even looked behind and around us, studying the pockets of shadows created by the late-afternoon sun, but I saw no one nor heard anyone. So I let him pull me along. We went farther and farther into the small wooded area until we heard the distinct sound of water rushing over rocks. When we came around a turn, there it was: a small but vigorous little stream that had created a waterfall.

"It's very pretty here," Beau said. "You've never been here before?"

"No, and no one's mentioned it."

"Let's sit awhile. I'm in no rush to go back to New Orleans anyway," he said. I didn't like the way he said it.

"Your parents know you've come up here to see me, don't they, Beau?"

"Sorta," he said, smiling.

"What's that mean, `sorta'?"

"I said I was going for a ride," he replied with a shrug. "Just a ride? But you drove all the way to Baton Rouge!"

"It's a ride, isn't it?" he said, laughing.

"Oh Beau, you're going to get into trouble with them again, aren't you?"

"It's worth it to see you, Ruby." He stepped up to me to put his hands on my shoulders and bring his lips to mine. Here in the solitude of the woods, he felt free to be more affectionate. I couldn't help but be nervous, however. We were still on Greenwood grounds, and in my dark imagination, I envisioned the Iron Lady hovering behind a tree with a pair of binoculars. Beau sensed my agitation and felt the tension in my body.

"What's wrong? I thought you would be more anxious to see me," he said, with obvious disappointment.

"It's not you, Beau. It's me. I'm not comfortable here, even though you're beside me. I still feel . . . as my Grandpère Jack used to say, like I've stepped on the back of a sleeping alligator."

Beau laughed. "There's no one here but us and the birds," he said, kissing me again. "No alligators." He kissed my neck. "Let's put down our blanket and rest awhile," he coaxed.

I let him take the blanket out from under my arm and watched him spread it over a patch of grass. He sprawled out and beckoned to me. I looked around again, and when I hesitated, he reached up to take my hand and pull me down to him.

In his arms I did forget where I was for the moment. Our kisses were long and passionate. He moved his hands smoothly up my arms and over my breasts. Soon the rush of my own blood competed with the rush of the water over the rocks, the sounds from within me becoming as loud as the sounds without. I felt swept away by Beau's caresses, each kiss, each touch moving the dark sadness off my brow and chasing the gloom from my heart, until I was kissing him as hard and as passionately as he was kissing me. I felt his hands under my blouse, my garments moving away so that we would be closer, skin touching skin, heartbeat to heartbeat. I opened myself to him eagerly and he was there, touching me, holding me, chanting his love and his promises. From somewhere in the forest, I heard the sound of a woodpecker. His tap, tap, tap grew faster and louder, until it sounded as if he was tearing down the whole forest. The water rushed on beside us. My moans grew stronger and more frequent, until we both came crushing down on each other's hunger, satisfying one another with the surrender of our very being.

When it was over, I felt tears streaming down my cheeks. My heart was thumping so hard I thought I would faint. Beau was on his back, gasping with surprise.

"And I thought football was strenuous," he joked. Then he grew serious and gazed down into my eyes. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," I said, catching my breath, "but maybe we love each other too much for our bodies to bear."

He laughed. "I can't think of anyone whose arms I would rather die in," he replied, which brought a smile to my face.

We straightened up our clothing, brushed each other off, and started back through the woods. I had to admit I was feeling lighter and happier than I thought possible these past two weeks.

"I'm so glad you came up to see me, Beau. I hope you don't get into too much trouble."

"It was worth it," he said.

We said goodbye at his car, with some of the girls in the dorm watching us from the front window.

"I can't believe Gisselle hasn't planted herself in my face at least once today," Beau said.

"I know. But whatever she's up to, it's something nasty for someone, I'm sure." Beau laughed at my words. We kissed goodbye quickly, and then I stood there watching him drive off. I didn't turn to go into the dorm until his car was completely gone from sight. Then I bowed my head and strolled into the dorm.

"You'd better get a move on," Sarah Peters warned me after I entered the building.

"Why?"

"We just heard: Our dorm's been chosen for an unannounced inspection. The Iron Lady could be here any moment," she explained.

"Inspection? Inspection of what?"

"Anything. Our rooms, our bathrooms, anything. She doesn't need a warrant, you know."

When I arrived at the quad, I found all the girls in a frenzy, even Gisselle. They were cleaning and straightening up. Everyone's room looked well organized and neat. Samantha had done a pretty good job on ours.

"We'll be hit first," Vicki informed me. "She goes in alphabetical order."

"How was your visit with Beau?" Gisselle asked from her doorway.

I glared at her, the anger I felt still quite strong.

"Why, weren't you spying on us?" I asked. She laughed.—but nervously, I thought.

"I had much better things to do," she replied, then retreated to her room quickly.

About half an hour later, Mrs. Ironwood did arrive, escorted by Mrs. Penny and Deborah Peck, who carried a clipboard and took down whatever notes and demerits Mrs. Ironwood imposed. The inspection began in Jacki and Kate's room and then went to Gisselle's. I expected to hear complaints, but Mrs. Ironwood emerged with a look of satisfaction on her face. She stepped into my doorway and gazed around the room.

"Good afternoon, girls," she said to Samantha and me. Samantha looked terrified, and she uttered a reply that was barely audible. Mrs. Ironwood went to one of the dressers and ran her fingers over the top. She looked at her fingers.

"Very nice," she said. "I'm glad you keep your rooms clean and consider them your home." She opened the closet door and peered in at our clothing, nodded, and then looked at my dresser. She stepped up to it and pulled open the top drawer, gazing in and nodding. "Well organized," she said. Samantha smiled at me. Then Mrs. Ironwood reached down and pulled open the third drawer. She stood there staring down for a moment and then turned to me.

"This is your dresser?"

"Yes," I said. She nodded, turned back to the drawer, reached in, and pulled out a pint bottle of rum. "Couldn't you hide this a little better?" she asked sarcastically.

My mouth dropped. I looked at Mrs. Penny, who gaped at me with surprise and disappointment. Deborah Peck had a faint smile on her lips.

"That's not mine."

"You just said this was your dresser. Other people put their things, in your dresser?"

"No, but . . ."

"Then this is yours," she said. She handed it to Mrs. Penny. "Dispose of this," she ordered. To Deborah she said, "Ten demerits." She glared at me. "Your punishment will be decided, and you will be told before the end of the day. Until then, you are confined to this room."

She turned and marched out. Mrs. Penny held the bottle in her hand as gingerly as she could, treating it like poison. She shook her head at me.

"I'm so ashamed of you, Ruby."

"It's not mine, Mrs. Penny."

"So ashamed," she repeated, then followed Mrs. Ironwood and Deborah out. As soon as they were gone, all the girls from the quad rushed to our door.

"What did she find?" Jacki asked.

"I'm sure you all know," I said dryly.

"Know what?" Gisselle asked, coming from behind.

"About the rum you put in my drawer."

"See? There she goes again. My fault. I'm not the only one here, Ruby. And other girls from other quads could have gotten into your room. You're not the most popular girl on campus. Maybe someone's jealous of you."

"Someone?" I said, smiling.

"Or maybe," she said, her hands on her hips, "that was your bottle."

I laughed and shook my head.

"I wonder what she'll do to you," Samantha said.

"It doesn't matter. I don't care," I told her, and I meant it. I didn't.

Just before dinner Mrs. Penny arrived to inform me that I was to spend the evening scrubbing all the bathrooms at the school. The head custodian would be waiting with soap and water and a brush. I was to do it every Saturday night after dinner for a month.

I accepted my punishment with a quiet resignation that annoyed Gisselle and both surprised and impressed the other girls. They never heard a complaint from me, even when it meant I wouldn't be able to attend movies or go to a dance. I knew the head custodian, Mr. Hull, felt sorry for me, and he even began to do some of my work and have some of it completed before I arrived.

"These bathrooms never looked so good come Monday morning," he told me.

He was right. Once I realized I couldn't get out of the penalty without causing even more of a problem, I decided to attack it with enthusiasm. It made it bearable. I took out stains that were seemingly embedded, and I got the mirrors so shiny that there wasn't the smallest smudge on the glass. On my third Saturday, however, I found that someone had stuffed the toilets in one of the bathrooms and flushed and flushed so the water would run over the floors. It was a disgusting mess and Mr. Hull came in to assist me, mopping up first. Even so, the stench got to me, and I had to get some fresh air to stop from throwing up my supper.

Two days later, I woke up very nauseous and had to run into the bathroom to throw up. I thought I had a terrible stomach virus or had been poisoned by the cleaning fluids I had to dip my hands into to clean the bathrooms properly. When the nausea came over me again that afternoon, I asked to be excused from class and went to the school infirmary.

Mrs. Miller, our school nurse, sat me down and asked me to describe all my symptoms. She looked very concerned.

"I've been more tired than usual," I admitted when she inquired about my energy.

"Have you noticed yourself going to the bathroom more frequently to urinate?"

I thought a moment. "Yes," I said. "I have."

She nodded. "What else?"

"I get dizzy once in a while, just be walking along and things start to spin on me."

"I see. I assume you keep track of your period," she said, "and at least have an approximate idea of when it should arrive."

My heart stopped.

"You've missed one?" she asked quickly when she saw the look on my face.

"Yes, but . . . that's happened to me occasionally before."

"Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately and noticed any changes in your body, especially your breasts?" she asked.

I had noticed tiny new blood vessels, but I told her I thought that was because I was still developing. She shook her head.

"You're about as developed as you're going to be," she said. "I'm afraid it sounds like you're pregnant, Ruby," she declared. "Only you know if that's a possibility. Is it?"

I felt as if she had dowsed me with a pail of ice water. For a moment my whole body became numb, and the muscles in my face wouldn't work. I couldn't reply. I didn't think my heart was even beating. It was as if I had turned to stone right before her eyes. "Ruby?" she asked again.

And I just started to cry.

"Oh dear," she said. "You poor dear."

She put her arm around me and led me to one of the cots. She told me to lie down and rest. I remember that as I lay there burying myself with a mountain of self-pity, hating Fate, cursing Destiny, I wondered why love was made to be so wonderful if it could put me in such a state of affairs. It seemed like a cruel joke had been played on me, but of course, I had no one to blame but myself. I didn't even blame Beau, knowing somehow that I had had the power to say no, to turn him away, but had chosen not to do so.

A little while later, after my crying had subsided, Mrs. Miller pulled up a chair beside me and sat down.

"We'll have to inform your family," she said. "This is a very personal problem, and you and your family will have to make some important decisions."

"Please," I said, seizing her hand, "don't tell anyone."

"I won't tell anyone but your family and, of course, Mrs. Ironwood."

"No, please. I don't want anyone to know just yet."

"I can't do that. It's too much of a responsibility, dear. Surely after the initial shock, your family will give you support, and you and your family will make the right decisions."

"Decisions?" There seemed to be only one decision—suicide, or at least running away.

"Whether to have the baby, to have an abortion, to inform the father . . . decisions. So you see, there's too much responsibility for us to keep it a secret. Others have to know. If we didn't tell them, we would be remiss. I would be irresponsible and certainly held to account. The least that would happen is I would be fired."

"Oh, I don't want that, Mrs. Miller. I'm already responsible for one person losing her job here. I don't want another person on my conscience. Of course, do what you have to do and don't worry about me," I said.

"Now, now, dear. We'll still worry about you. Other girls have been in this predicament, you know. It's not the end of the world, although it might seem so to you right now." She smiled. "You'll be all right," she promised, patting my hand. "Just rest. do what has to be done and do it discreetly."

She left and I lay there, hoping the ceiling would fall in on me and cursing the day I had decided to leave the bayou.

Nearly an hour later, Mrs. Ironwood arrived with Mrs. Miller to inform me that Daphne was sending the limousine for me. I could se the glint of self-satisfaction in her eyes as she spoke.

"Get yourself together and go back to the dorm. Pack your things, all your things. You won't be coming back to Greenwood," she commanded.

"At least there's one good thing to come of this," I said.

She turned bright crimson and hoisted her shoulders. "I'm not surprised. It was only a matter of time before you destroyed yourself. Your sort always does," she snapped, then left before I could reply.

I didn't care anymore anyway. Ironically, Gisselle had been right: Greenwood was a horrible place as long as that woman ran and administered it. I left the building and returned to the dorm to complete my packing. I had most of it done by midday, when Gisselle came running over during the lunch hour. She burst into the quad screaming my name. When she saw my suitcases packed, my closet and dresser drawers emptied, her mouth dropped.

"What's going on?" she demanded, and I told her. For once, she was speechless. She sat on my bed.

"What are you going to do?"

"What can I do? I'm going home. The limousine should be here shortly."

"But that's not fair. I'll be left here all alone."

"All alone? You have the other girls, and you never wanted to do things with me anyway, Gisselle. We're sisters, but up here we were strangers most of the time."

"I'm not staying here. I won't," she insisted.

"That's between you and Daphne," I said.

She went fuming out of my room to make her phone call, but she didn't return to pack her things, so I imagined Daphne had denied her request. At least for now.

Half an hour later Mrs. Penny, her face sallow, came to inform me that the limousine had arrived, She was sincerely sad for me, and she helped me carry some of my things out to the car.

"I'm very disappointed in you," she said. "And so is Mrs. Ironwood."

"Mrs. Ironwood is not disappointed, Mrs. Penny. You work for an ogre. Someday you'll admit that to yourself and then you'll leave too."

"Leave?" She looked like she would laugh. "But where would I go?"

"Anyplace where people aren't hypocritical and mean to each other, where you're not judged on the basis of your bank account, where nice and talented people like Miss Stevens aren't persecuted for being honest and caring."

She stared at me a moment, and then with her face as serious as I had ever seen it, she said, "There isn't any such place, but if you find it, send me a postcard and tell me how to get there."

She left me and walked back to the dorm to return to her duties as the surrogate mother for all of these girls. I got into the limousine and we drove away.

And I never looked back.

Edgar came out and helped the driver carry all my things up to my room when I arrived. He informed me that Daphne wasn't home.

"But madame asked that you remain in the house and speak to no one until she returns," he said. I wondered if he knew why I had come back. He knew it was something terrible, but he didn't reveal whether he knew any details. Nina was another story. She took one look at me when I entered the kitchen to greet her and said, "You be with child, girl."

"Daphne told you."

"She be ranting and raving so loud, even the dead in ovens over at St. Louis Cemetery musta heard her. Then she come in here and told me herself."

"It's my fault, Nina."

"It takes two to make baby magic," she said. "It ain't be your only fault."

"Oh Nina, what am I going to do? I not only make mistakes that ruin my own life, I make the kind that ruin other people's lives too."

"Someone powerful put a fix on you. None of Nina's good gris-gris stop it," she said thoughtfully. "You best go to church and ask St. Michael for help. He be the one who help you conquer your enemies," she advised.

We heard the front door open and close and then the sound of Daphne's heels clicking down the corridor sharply. This was followed by Edgar's arrival.

"Madame Dumas is here, mademoiselle. She wants to see you in the office," he told me.

"I'd rather see the devil," I muttered.

Nina's eyes widened with fear.

"You say that no more, hear? Papa La Bas, he got big ears."

I went to the office. Daphne was behind the desk on the telephone. She raised her eyebrows when I appeared and nodded toward the chair in front of the desk while she kept talking.

"She's home now, John. I can send her up immediately. I am relying on your discretion. Of course. I appreciate that. Thank you."

She cradled the phone slowly and sat back. To my surprise, she shook her head slowly and smiled.

"I must be honest," she began. "I always expected I would be sitting here confronting Gisselle in this situation, not you. Despite your background, you gave both me and your father the impression that you were the more sensible one, wiser, certainly more intelligent.

"But," she continued, "as you now know, being more book smart doesn't make you a better person, does it?"

I tried to swallow but couldn't.

"How ironic. I, who had every right to bear a child, who could provide the best for him or her, was unable to conceive, and you, like some rabbit, just go and make a baby with your boyfriend as nonchalantly as you would eat a meal or take a walk. You're always talking about how unfair this is and unfair that is. Well, how do you like the hand I've been dealt? And then, like salt on a wound, I have to have you enter this house, become part of this family, and confront you with child when you have no right to be pregnant."

-"I didn't mean it to happen," I said.

She threw her head back and laughed.

"How many times since Eve conceived Cain and Abel have women uttered that stupid sentence?" Her eyes became dark slits. "What did you think would happen? You thought you could be as hot as a goat or a monkey and make your boyfriend that hot and not ever pay the consequences? Did you think you were me?"

"No, but . . ."

"Forget the buts," she said. "The damage, as they say, has been done. And now, like always, it's left to me to right the wrong, correct and fix things. It was the same when your father was alive, believe me.

"The limousine is outside," she continued. "The driver has his instructions. You don't need anything. Just go out and get into the car," she commanded.

"Where am I going?"

She stared a moment.

"A friend of mine who's a doctor is at a clinic outside the city. He's expecting you. He will perform an abortion and, barring any unforeseen complications, send you directly home. You'll spend a few days recuperating upstairs and then you'll return to public school here. I've already begun to concoct a cover story. The death of your father has left you so depressed you can't continue away from home. Lately you've been walking around here with a long face all the time. People will accept it."

"But . . ."

"I told you—there are no buts. Now don't keep the doctor waiting. He's doing me a very delicate favor."

I stood up.

"One other thing," she added. "Don't bother to call Beau Andreas. I've just come from his home. His parents are about as upset with him as I am with you and have decided to send him away for the remainder of the school year."

"Away? Where?"

"Far away," she said. "To live with relatives and go to school in France."

"France!"

"That's correct. I think he's grateful that's the only punishment he's to endure. If he should ever speak to you or write to you and his parents find out, he will be disinherited. So if you want to destroy him too, try to contact him.

"Now go," she added with a tired voice. "This is the first and the last time I will cover up your faux pas. From here on in, you alone will suffer for whatever indiscretions you commit. Go!" she ordered, pointing her arm toward the door, her long forefinger jabbing the air. It felt as if she had jabbed it into my heart.

I turned and walked out. Without pausing, I left the house and got into the limousine. I never felt more confused or more lost. Events seemed to be carrying me along on their own. I was like someone who had lost all choice. It was as if a strong current had come streaming down the bayou canal, whisking me away in my pirogue, and no matter how I tried to pole myself in another direction, I couldn't. I could only sit back and let the water carry me to the predetermined end.

I closed my eyes and didn't open them again until the driver said, "We're here, mademoiselle."

We must have driven for at least half an hour or so and now we were in some small town in which all the stores were closed. Knowing Daphne, I had expected to be brought to an expensive-looking modern hospital, but the limousine pulled up behind a dark, dilapidated building. It didn't look like a clinic, or even a doctor's office.

"Are we at the right place?" I asked.

"It's where I was told to bring you," the driver said. He got out and opened the rear door. I stepped out slowly. The back door of the building squeaked open and a heavy woman with hair the color and texture of a kitchen scrub pad looked out.

"This way," she commanded. "Quickly."

As I drew closer, I saw she wore a nurse's uniform. She had roller-pin forearms and very wide hips that made it look like her upper body had been added as an afterthought. There was a mole on her chin with some hairs curling up around it. Her thick lips tightened with impatience.

"Hurry up," she snapped.

"Where am I?" I asked.

"Where do you think you are?" she replied, stepping back for me to enter. I did so cautiously. The rear entryway opened to a long, dimly lit corridor with walls of faded yellow. The floor looked scuffed and dirty.

"This is a . . . clinic?" I asked.

"It's the doctor's office," she said. "Go in the first door on the right. The doctor will be right with you."

She marched ahead of me and disappeared into another room on the left. I opened the door of the first room on the right and saw an examination table with stirrups. There was a sheet of tissue paper over the table. On the right was a metal table, and on that was a tray of instruments. There was a sink against the far wall with what looked like previously used instruments soaking in a pan of water. The walls of the room were the same dull yellow as the corridor walls. There were no pictures, no plaques, not even a window. But there was another door, which opened, and a tall, thin man with bushy eyebrows and thin coal-black hair flattened over the top of his head and cut short at the sides stepped in. He wore a light blue surgical gown.

He looked at me and nodded, but he didn't say hello. Instead he walked to the sink and began to scrub his hands.

"Just sit up on the table," he ordered with his back to me.

The heavy woman came in and began to organize the surgical tools. The doctor turned around to look at me. He raised his eyebrows inquisitively.

"The table," he said again, nodding at it.

"I thought . . . I would be brought to a hospital," I said.

"Hospital?" He looked at the nurse, who shook her head without speaking. She didn't look up, nor did she look at me. "This is your first time, right?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, my voice cracking. My heart was pounding, and I felt the beads of sweat forming on my neck and brow.

"Well, it won't take long," he said. His nurse picked up an instrument that looked like Grandpère Jack's hand drill. I felt my stomach do a flip-flop.

"This is a mistake," I said. "I'm supposed to go to a clinic."

I backed away, shaking my head. Neither the doctor nor the nurse had even introduced themselves.

"This can't be right," I said.

"Now look here, young lady. I'm doing your mother a favor. I left my house, rushed my dinner to come down here. There's no time for foolishness."

"Foolishness is what got you here," the heavy woman said, scowling. "You play, you pay," she added. "Get on the table."

I shook my head.

"No. This isn't right. No," I said again. I backed myself to the door and found the knob. "No."

"I have no time for this," the doctor warned.

"I don't care. This isn't right." I turned around to pull open the door. In an instant I was down the dingy corridor and out the rear entrance. My driver was still sitting in the car behind the wheel, his cap over his eyes, his head back, sleeping. I rapped on the window and he jumped.

"Take me home!" I screamed.

He got out quickly and opened the rear door.

"Madame told me it would be awhile," he said, confused.

"Just drive," I screamed. He shrugged but got back into the car and pulled away. Moments later we were back on the highway. I looked back at the dark, murky town. It was as if I had gone in and out of a nightmare.

But when I turned and looked ahead, the reality of what awaited me hit me like a gust of hurricane wind. Daphne would be furious; she would make my life even more miserable. We approached a fork in the road. The arrow on the sign pointed left to indicate the direction of New Orleans, but it also had an arrow pointing right, toward Houma.

"Stop!" I ordered.

"What?" The driver pressed his foot down on the brake and turned around. "What now, mademoiselle?" he asked.

I hesitated. My whole life seemed to flash by me: Grandmère Catherine waiting for me when I returned from school, running up to her with my pigtails flying, embracing her and trying to tell her as fast as I could about all the things that I had learned and done at school. Paul in a pirogue coming out from a bend and waving to me, and me rushing down to the shore to join him, a picnic lunch under my arms. Grandmère Catherine's last words, my promises, walking off to get on the bus to New Orleans. Arriving at the mansion in the Garden District. Daddy's soft, loving eyes, the excitement in his face when he realized who I was.. All of it rushed by in moments.

I opened the car door.

"Mademoiselle?"

"Just go back to New Orleans, Charles," I told him.

"What?" he said in disbelief.

"Tell Madame Dumas . . . tell her she is finally rid of me," I said, and started walking toward Houma.

Charles waited, confused. But when I disappeared in the darkness, he pulled away and the sleek limousine went on without me, its rear lights growing smaller and smaller until it was completely gone, and I was alone on the highway.

A year before I had left Houma thinking I was going home.

The truth was that right now I was returning to the only home I had ever known.