AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Yes," she said, pulling her face into a full, gleeful smile. "I guess I will."
I turned and hurried away, my heart pounding. How she enjoyed reminding me I had lost Beau again.
8
From Bad to Worse
.
During our ride back to the bayou, Paul tried to
make small talk and then he tried to get me excited about some new things that were happening not only in our business, but also in politics. I listened with half an ear, filling every silence between us with the sound of Beau's voice, and filling every dark mile along the way with the images of Beau smiling, talking, gazing at me with that look of anguish in his eyes and yes, that look of love.
I tried to keep myself busy and not think about him during the days immediately following our New Orleans trip, but for the first few days I couldn't get myself to draw a line. I would just stare at the blank paper and think about my studio in New Orleans and Beau. I tried sketching and painting animals, flowers, trees, everything and anything but people, for I knew that every man I would envision would be a man who had Beau's hair, Beau's eyes, Beau's mouth.
What made it even worse was gazing at Pearl, who had developed more distinct facial features and had begun to look more like Beau. Maybe it was just that I was seeing him everywhere since the funeral, but when Pearl laughed and smiled, I heard Beau's laugh and saw his smile.
One afternoon a few weeks after we had returned from Daphne's funeral, I sat on the patio and tried to read a book while Mrs. Flemming played with Pearl on the grass. It was one of those rare days in the bayou when there was barely a breeze and the clouds looked pasted against the soft blue sky. It made everyone feel lazy. Even the birds barely flitted from tree to tree. They sat quietly on branches, looking more like stuffed animals. From off in the distance, I could hear the dull thump, thump, thump of one of our oil drills and occasionally the voices of the men shouting things to each other. But other than that, it was very quiet so that Pearl's laughter rippled over the grass toward the canals, a tiny tinkle of a laugh, making me feel we were all in a toy world.
Suddenly James came rushing out of the house carrying a large envelope.
"This was just brought special delivery for you, madame," he said excitedly, and handed it to me.
"Thank you, James."
He nodded and left while I undid the fastener and pulled a newspaper out of the envelope. Mrs. F
lemming gazed at me curiously and I shrugged.
"It's just a New Orleans newspaper, two days old," I said. I gazed at it, wondering why it had been sent special delivery, when I saw that an inside page had been marked with a bright red clip. I opened to the page and gazed at a circled story. It was a wedding announcement, describing the marriage of Beau Andreas to Gisselle Dumas. They had eloped.
I reread the story to confirm that the words actually said what I thought they said, and for a moment it felt as if the air around me had been sucked away. I couldn't breathe; I couldn't swallow, and I was afraid if I tried too hard, I would gag and turn blue. My heart seemed to sink deeper into my chest, making me feel empty and cold inside.
"Something not unpleasant, I hope," Mrs. Flemming said.
I stared at her for a moment and then found my voice. "My sister . . . she eloped," I said.
"Oh. With a nice young man?"
"Yes. A very nice young man," I said. "I have to go upstairs for a moment," I added, and rose quickly so I could turn and walk away before any tears showed themselves on my cheeks. I charged through the house and up the stairs and threw myself on my bed, where I buried my face in my pillow. Of course, I knew that this might happen, but I had lived with the wish that Beau would come to his senses and not succumb. Now some of his last words spoken to me returned, words that had suggested otherwise.
I can't help it, Ruby. I'll never stop loving you, and if it means I have to live forever with an illusion, then that's what I'll do.
Apparently he had decided to do it. Could I be happy knowing that every time he kissed my sister's lips, he closed his eyes and made himself believe he was kissing mine? That every time he woke in the morning and gazed at her face, he convinced himself he was gazing at me? He was in love with me; he would always be in love with me. I knew that Gisselle thought she had achieved some sort of victory by winning him back and getting him to marry her, although in her heart she must know that it was a shallow victory, and that he was using her like some magic mirror into which he could gaze and see the woman he really loved.
But Gisselle didn't care. She didn't care about anything but making me unhappy even if it meant marrying someone she didn't really love, not that she could love anyone but herself, I thought. I tried to be more angry than sad, but my broken heart wouldn't permit it. I cried so hard, my ribs ached and my tears soaked my pillow. When I heard a knock on my doorjamb, I choked back my sobs and turned to see Paul standing there, his face dark and troubled.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Nothing. I'll be fine," I said, and quickly wiped the tears away with the back of my hand. He stood there staring.
"It was this, wasn't it?" he said, bringing the newspaper around from behind his back. "I found it where you dropped it in the hallway. You don't have to answer," he followed quickly, his face red with frustration and fury. "I know how much you still love him."
"Paul. . ."
"No, I realize it's not something I can make disappear with my money. I can build you a house twice as big as this one on twice as much acreage and fill it with things ten times as expensive and you will still mope about, dreaming of Beau Andreas." He sighed, his shoulders lifting and falling. "I thought I could substitute devotion and security for romantic love, but I was a fool to think so. Mother was right after all," he moaned.
"I'm over it, Paul," I said determinedly. "He's married my sister and that's that."
