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"I know." After a moment he added, "I got another favor to ask of you."
"What's that?" I flared, my rage simmering just like milk boiling in a pot.
"Please don't tell him I came here today. I had him do an errand for me that took him out of the area just so I could pay you this visit without his knowing. If he found out . . ."
"I won't tell him," I said.
"Thank you." He stood up. "You're a fine young woman as well as a very beautiful one. I'm sure you're going to find happiness someday, and if there's anything you need, anything I can do for you. . ."
"There's nothing," I said sharply. He saw the fury in my eyes and the smile left his face.
"I'll be going," he said. I didn't get up. I sat there staring at the floor until I heard him walk out and heard him start his car and drive away. Then I flung myself down on the settee and cried until I ran dry of tears.
2
Unfinished Business
.
After Pearl woke from her nap, I gave her a
bottle and took her out again while I sat by the roadside stand watching out for any late afternoon business. There was a flurry of activity for about an hour and then the road became quiet and empty, the dwindling sunlight casting its long shadows across the macadam, bringing the curtain down on daytime.
My heart felt so heavy. Mr. Tate's visit had cast a deep pall over everything. I felt as if Pearl and I had no home. We didn't belong here and we didn't belong in New Orleans, but I thought it was going to be even worse living here after I had turned Paul away. Every time he visited, if he ever wanted to visit again, there would be this storm of sadness hanging over our heads.
Maybe Mr. Tate was right, I thought. Maybe after I had rejected Paul, he would find someone new, but even if that loomed as a possibility, I knew it would have a much greater chance of happening if Pearl and I were truly gone and out of his life. Once he saw our marrying and living together was impossible, he might seek happiness elsewhere.
But then, where should we go? What should we do? I wondered. I had no other relatives to whom I could run. I took Pearl into the house and brought in what was left from the stand, desperately trying to think out some sort of future for us. Finally an idea came to me. I decided to swallow my pride, sit at the table, and write a letter to Daphne.
Dear Daphne,
I haven't written to you all this time because I didn't imagine you cared to hear from me. I am not going to argue that you shouldn't have been upset to learn I was pregnant with Beau's child. I am old enough to realize I must be responsible for my own actions, but I couldn't go through with the abortion you had arranged, and now that I have my daughter, whom I have named Pearl, I am happy I didn't, although I know our lives will be hard.
I thought if I could return to the bayou, to the world in which I had grown up and been happy, all would be well and I wouldn't have to be a problem for anyone, least of all you. We never got along when my father was alive, and I don't anticipate us ever getting along.
But circumstances here are not what I thought they would be, and I have come to the conclusion, I can't stay here. But don't be afraid. I'm not asking you to take me back. I'm only asking that you give me some of my inheritance now so I can make a life for myself and my daughter someplace else. . someplace not in New Orleans, and not in the bayou. You won't be giving me anything that's not coming to me; you'll only be giving it to me sooner. I'm sure you would agree that it would be something my father would want you to do.
Please give this consideration and let me know as soon as you can. I assure you, once you do this, we will have little or no contact.
Sincerely yours, Ruby
While I was addressing the letter, I heard a car pull into the yard. I stopped writing and hid the letter in the pocket of my dress quickly.
"Hi," Paul said, entering. "Sorry I wasn't here earlier. I had an errand that took me to Breaux Bridge. How was your day? Busy?"
"A little," I said. I shifted my gaze downward, but it was too late.
"Something's wrong," he said. "What is it?"
"Paul," I said after taking a deep breath, "we can't do it. We can't marry and live at Cypress Woods. I've thought about it and thought about it, and I know we shouldn't do it."
"What's changed your mind?" he asked, grimacing with surprise and disappointment. "You were so happy yesterday in the house. It was as if a dark cloud had been lifted from your face," he reminded me.
"You were right about Cypress Woods. The house and the grounds cast a spell. It was as if we had entered a make-believe world, and for a while I let it convince me. It was easy to pretend and to ignore reality there."
"So? It is our world. I can make it as wonderful as any make-believe world. And as long as we don't hurt anyone. . ."
"But we are hurting someone, Paul. We're hurting each other," I pointed out painfully.
