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When we arrived at the house, she was too
depressed even to visit with Paul. She let Bruce put
her into the chair and take her in without saying
another word to me or to Daphne. Daphne gazed back
at me from the doorway when Paul drove in behind
us.
"Make this short," she ordered. "I'm not fond of
all sorts of Cajuns coming to the house." She turned
her back on me and went inside before I could
respond.
I went to Paul as soon as he emerged from his
vehicle and threw myself into his comforting arms.
Suddenly, all the sorrow and misery I had been containing within the confines of my battered heart broke free. I sobbed freely, my shoulders shaking, my face buried in his shoulder. He stroked my hair and kissed my forehead and whispered words of consolation. Finally I caught my breath and pulled back. He had a handkerchief ready and waiting to
wipe my cheeks, and he let me blow my nose. "I'm sorry," I said. "I couldn't help it, but I
haven't really been able to cry for Daddy since I came
home from school. Daphne's made things so hard for
all of us. Poor Paul," I said, smiling through my tearsoaked eyes. "You have to be the one to endure my
flood of tears."
"No. I'm glad I was here to bring you any
comfort. It must have been horrible. I remember your
father well. He
was so young and vibrant when I last
saw him, and he was very kind to me, a real Creole
gentleman. He was a man with class. I understood
why our mother would have fallen in love with him so
deeply."
"Yes. So did I." I took his hand and smiled. "Oh
Paul, it's so good to see you." I looked at the front
door and then turned back to him. "My stepmother
won't let me have visitors in the house," I said,
