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now, Beau Andreas?" she demanded. Then she
approached me and we stared into each other's faces. I imagined she was doing what I was doing--
searching for the differences; but they were hard to
see at first glance. We were identical twins. Our hair
was the same shade, our eyes emerald green, our
eyebrows exactly the same. Neither of our faces had
any tiny scars, nor dimples, nothing that would
quickly distinguish one of us from the other. Her
cheeks, her chin, her mouth, all were precisely the
same shape as mine. Not only did all of our facial
features correspond, but we were just about the same
height as well. And our bodies had matured and
developed as if we had been cast from one mold. But on second glance, a more scrutinizing second glance, a perceptive inspector would discern differences in our facial expressions and in our demeanor. Gisselle held herself more aloof, more arrogantly. There seemed to be no timidity in her. She had inherited Grandmere Catherine's steel spine, I thought. Her gaze was unflinching and she had a way of tucking in the right corner of her mouth disdain
fully.
"Who are you?" she queried sharply.
"My name is Ruby, Ruby Landry, but it should
be Ruby Dumas," I said.
Gisselle, still incredulous, still waiting for some
sensible explanation for the confusion her eyes were
bringing to her brain, turned to Nina Jackson, who
crossed herself quickly.
"I am going to light a black candle," she said,
and started away, muttering a voodoo prayer. "Beau!" Gisselle said, stamping her foot. He laughed and shrugged with his arms out. "I
swear I've never seen her before tonight. I found her
standing outside the gate when I drove up. She came
from . . . where did you say it was?"
"Houma," I said. "In the bayou."
"She's a Cajun girl."
"I can see that, Beau. I don't understand this," she said, now shaking her head at me, her eyes
swimming in tears of frustration.
