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weight of one of the most emotional and difficult days
of my life finally settling over my shoulders. "I never
met our mother because she died right after we were
born, but from everything Grandmere Catherine told
me about her and from what Daddy told me, I know
we would have loved her dearly. She was very
beautiful."
Gisselle shook her head, but my quiet
revelati
on had begun to sink in and her lips trembled,
too. I saw her eyes begin to cloud.
"Wait," I said, and opened our adjoining door. I
went to the nightstand and found Mother's picture and
brought it to her. "Her name was Gabrielle," I said,
showing the picture to Gisselle. She glanced at it
quickly and then turned away.
"I don't want to look at some Cajun woman you
say is our mother."
"She is. And what's more. . . she had another
child . . . we have a half brother. . . Paul."
"You're crazy. You ARE crazy. You do belong in the institution. I want Daddy. I want Daddy!
Daddy! Daddy!" she screamed.
Mrs. Warren came running from her room. "What's going on now?" she demanded. "I want my father. Get my father."
"I'm not a maid around here.
"GET HIM!" Gisselle cried. Her face turned as
red as a beet as she struggled to shout with all her
might. Mrs. Warren looked at me.
"I'll get him," I said, and left Gisselle with her
nurse cajoling her to calm down.
Daddy and Daphne were down in the parlor.
