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"Well,I'll be damned. You've had your share of surprises," Beau said.
"There's more."
"Oh?"
"Daphne is permitting me to take Uncle Jean his Christmas gift. She said you could go with me, if you like."
"Really?" He shook his head in amazement and sat back. Then I told him why she was being so nice to Gisselle and me. "Married? So soon?" he said.
"She said after a proper period of mourning, but who knows what she considers proper."
"My parents had suspicions," he told me in a whisper.
"The two of them have been seen everywhere together." He looked down and then up again to add, "There were suspicions even before your father's death."
"I don't doubt it. I don't care what she does with herself now, and I don't want to talk anymore about it," I said angrily.
"Well then, why don't we just go visit Jean today and have lunch at one of the roadside restaurants on the way back," he suggested.
I went to get Uncle Jean's gift and told Daphne we were leaving.
"Make sure he knows that's from me," she said.
But when we arrived at the institution and were brought to him in the lounge, I knew immediately that not only wouldn't he understand who the gift was from, he wouldn't even realize he had visitors. Uncle Jean had become little more than a shadow of his former self. Like one of Nina's zombies, he sat staring blankly ahead, his eyes turned inward, where he could revisit all the places and times he had formerly experienced. When I spoke to him and held his hand, there was only a slight blinking and a tiny light in his eyes.
"He's like a clam closing its shell!" I moaned to Beau. "He barely hears me."
We sat in the lounge. It had started raining on our trip out, and the rain built a frantic tattoo on the window we now gazed through. It matched the rhythm of my heart. Uncle Jean looked so much thinner, the bones in his nose and cheeks more prominent, He looked like someone who was dying slowly from within.
I tried again, talking about Christmas, some of the things I had done at school, the decorations at the house. But his expression didn't change, and he wouldn't turn his eyes to me. After a while, I gave up. I leaned over and kissed him goodbye on the cheek. His eyelids fluttered and his lips trembled, but he said nothing, nor did he really look at me.
On the way out, I stopped to talk to his nurse.
"Does he ever speak?"
"He hasn't for a while now," she admitted. "But sometimes," she added, smiling, "they do return. There are new medications coming out every day."
"Would you see that he puts on his new shirts? He used to be so proud of his clothes," I said sadly. She promised she would, and Beau and I retreated. Visiting Uncle Jean had made this Christmas Day even more gloomy than the dark clouds and rain. I barely spoke, and I had little appetite when we stopped for lunch. Beau carried most of the
conversation, describing plans for us for the near future.
"I've already decided: We'll both apply to Tulane. That way we'll be in New Orleans and together. My teachers think I should look toward a career in medicine because I do so well in the biological sciences. Doctor Andreas . . . how does that sound?"
"It sounds wonderful, Beau."
"Well, your grandmere was a healer. We've got to keep up the tradition. practice medicine and you'll paint and become one of New Orleans's leading artist
s, People will come from everywhere to buy your pictures. On Sundays after church, we'll walk along the streets in the Garden District and I'll brag to our baby that his mother has a picture in that house and that, and two more in that. . . ."
I smiled. Grandmere Catherine would have liked Beau, I was sure.
"Good. You're smiling again. You're
ravishingly beautiful when you're happy, Ruby. I want to keep you continuously happy for as long as I live," he said. His words brought the blood to my face again and the warmth to my heart.
When he brought me home, I found Daphne in Daddy's office, talking on the phone. Apparently, even on Christmas Day, she was all business. She was dressed in a smart, light blue tweed skirt and vest with a white lace silk blouse and had her hair tied in a French knot.
"And how is Jean?" she asked with half interest as she moved some papers around.
