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"I kept having nightmares that some of those swamp creatures we saw were getting into the house, slithering up the stairs and right into my room and into my bed! I knew I shouldn't have gone on that boat trip through the canals. Now it will take months to get those pictures out of my head. Ugh," she said, and shook herself free of a chill.
Paul laughed. "Really Gisselle, I'd think you would have more to worry about living in a city with all that street crime. At least our creatures are predictable. If you try to pet a cottonmouth snake, he'll give you his opinion quickly."
Beau laughed, too.
"Well, it might be funny to you men, but women are more dainty, more fragile. At least women
in New Orleans," she said, eyeing me when I didn't come to her defense. Then she disclosed that she was too tired to eat very much. "I'll just have some coffee," she said.
The rest of us ate a hearty breakfast, after which we went into the office and completed the paperwork. I signed whatever documents had to be signed, and Beau promised he would keep us up-to-date on all the proceedings.
Beau quietly asked to see Pearl before he left, so I took him to the nursery. Mrs. Flemming had just changed her, brushed her hair, and tied a little pink ribbon in it. The moment Pearl set eyes on Beau, she brightened. Without a word, Beau lifted Pearl into his arms and kissed her curls. She was intrigued with his hair and wanted to run her fingers over it.
"She's very bright," he said, his eyes fixed on her when he spoke. "You can see from the way she gazes at things--how they hold her attention."
"I agree," Mrs. Flemming said.
"Take her down with us, Beau. She'll say goodbye along with Paul and me," I told him. He nodded and we walked out and down the stairs. Gisselle was already moving through the front door, warning James to be careful with her suitcase.
On the gallery, Beau handed Pearl to me and shook Paul's hand. "Thanks for inviting us. It was a very interesting day. I must admit, I learned a lot about the bayou and have grown to respect it a great deal more."
"You're quite welcome," Paul said, gazing quickly at me, too, a tight smile on his lips.
"Beau! Are we going to stand here forever saying good-bye? It's getting muggy and hot and the bugs are stampeding from the swamp to the house," Gisselle cried from the car.
"I'd better be going," he said to us. Paul nodded and went down to kiss Gisselle good-bye.
"Thank you for a lovely time," Beau said to me. He took my hand in his and leaned over to kiss my cheek, but brushed his lips over mine instead. When he pulled his hand away, there was a small piece of paper left in mine. I was about to ask what it was when his eyes told me. For a moment it felt like I was holding a lit match in my palm. I shot a glance toward Paul and Gisselle and then shoved the tiny note into the pocket of my blouse. Beau kissed Pearl on the cheek and hurried
down the stairs and got into the car.
"Thanks again," he called.
"'Bye. Come visit us in civilization when you get a chance," Gisselle called. "Home, James," she said, wav-ing toward the highway, and laughed. Beau shook his head, smiled back at us, and put the car into gear.
"Your sister is a piece of work," Paul said. "I don't envy Beau one bit when it comes to living with her. When it comes to other things, I envy him more than he'll ever know." He stared at me a moment, but I shifted my eyes away guiltily. "Well, I've got to get to work," he said. He kissed Pearl and me and then hurried to his own car.
Mrs. Flemming took Pearl from me when I went inside. I didn't feel much like painting, but the quiet solitude I found in my studio was very attractive to me now. I hurried upstairs and closed the door. I stood there for a moment against the door with my eyes closed, reliving the moment downstairs when Beau brought his lips to mine for a quick good-bye kiss. I saw his eyes and felt his love.
My heart was pounding as I plucked the note out of my pocket and unwrapped it. There was simply an address on it and a date and time. The day was Tuesday of next week. I crushed the note in my fist and went to throw it in the wastebasket under the easel, but it was as if the paper had glue on it now. It wouldn't leave my hand.
I shoved it back into the breast pocket of my blouse and tried to push it out of my mind when I began to work, but every few minutes I imagined it grew warm and sent a tingle of anticipation down one breast and around the other. It was as if Beau's fingers were there, Beau's lips were there. My heart raced, shortening my breath. I couldn't work; I couldn't concentrate on any-thing else.
Finally I gave up and went to the window seat. I sat for nearly an hour just staring at the canals, watching the herons fly in and out. With trembling fingers I took Beau's note out of my pocket again and studied the address, committing it and the date to memory. Then I put the note in a drawer in my art supply cabinet. I just couldn't get myself to throw it away.
Paul didn't return home for lunch. I did a little work, but most of the time I listened to the competing voices in my mind. One voice was softer, pleading, tempting, trying to convince me that I deserved Beau's love and that our love was too good and pure a feeling to be dirty or evil.
But the second voice was harsher, biting, cutting, reminding me of the pain I could bring to Paul, whose devotion to Pearl and me was unwavering and complete. Look at the sacrifices he's making for your happiness, the voice said.
But that's only more reason to keep my rendezvous with Beau secret, my softer voice retorted.
Deceit!
No, it's not deceitful if you're doing it to protect someone you love and prevent him from suffering any pain.
But you're being sneaky and you're lying and hiding. Would Paul do that to you?
No, but you and Paul did agree that neither of you would stand in the way of the other if one of you found someone else to love. Paul is upset and frustrated, but he is understanding and he doesn't want to do anything to make you unhappy or prevent you from becoming happy.
