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11
Nothing Ventured
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Beau was very excited and happy about Paul's
proposal, but I was troubled by Paul's willingness to be part of this. What was he thinking? What was he hoping would happen as a result? I tossed and turned all night, haunted by the things that could go wrong and expose our deception. Once that happened, people would want to know more, and then the truth about Paul and me with all the sins of the past would be revealed. Not only would Pearl and I be disgraced, but the Tates would be devasated. The risks were enormous. I was sure Paul understood them as well as I did, but he was determined to remain tied to me, even in this bizarre fashion.
When I awoke in the morning, I thought it had all been a dream until Paul knocked on my door and poked his head in to tell me we would leave for the Dumas country home a little after two. He estimated the ride to the ranch would take us close to three hours. A ripple of apprehension shot down my spine. I rose and started to make preparations. My body actually trembled as I moved about, thinking about what I would and wouldn't take.
Since my taste in clothing and Gisselle's was different, I realized I had to leave most of my things behind, but I decided to take the jewelry and the mementoes that were most precious to me. I packed as many of Pearl's things as I could without drawing any suspicions. After all, we were supposed to be going away for only a few days.
As I folded Pearl's things into her small suitcase, I thought how strange it was going to be for me to pretend I was only her aunt and not her mother. Fortunately, Pearl was still young enough so that when she called me Mommy, people would only assume she was confused. I would say that it was easier to let her do so for now. What I dreaded was later when she was old enough to understand it all, because then I would have to tell her the truth as to why her father and I had done this and why I took my sister's name. I couldn't help worrying about how it might change the way she thought of us.
I spent the morning wandering about Cypress Woods with Pearl, drinking it all in as though I would never see any of it again. I knew whenever I did return, it would look different to me since I had to think of it no longer as my home, but as my sister's home, a place to visit and a place I supposedly disliked. I would have to behave as though the bayou were as foreign as China to me, for that was the way Gisselle reacted to it.
I thought that would be the hardest thing to do: pretend to hate the bayou. No matter how I practiced, I was sure I couldn't be very convincing about that. Surely my heart would not permit me to mock and complain about the world in which I had grown and the world I had loved all my life.
While Pearl was taking her nap, I went up to my studio to store the things I wanted to protect from time and inattention. As my sister, Gisselle, I would have to do any drawing and painting secretly. Once the news got out that Ruby was an invalid,
semiconscious and mentally impaired, the new paintings could no longer be delivered to the art gallery, but I took solace in the fact that I wasn't doing them so much for the fame and money as I was for my own inner satisfaction.
Paul returned home for lunch, which was hard for both of us. Neither of us came right out and said it, but we knew this was the last meal we would sit down to as man and wife. It was important that we didn't act too differently in front of our servants. Nevertheless, every other moment it seemed we were both gazing across the table at each other as if we had just met and neither knew how to begin a sentence. Tension made us overly polite toward each other. Twice we started simultaneously.
"Go on," he said again.
"No, you go on this time," I insisted.
"I wanted to assure you I would see that the
studio is kept clean. Maybe you and Beau will vacation here and you can slip up there and do some work, if you like. I'll just say the work was completed before Ruby became so sick."
I nodded, although I didn't think that would ever happen. Despite the fact that it was Gisselle who had contracted St Louis encephalitis and not me, it made me feel strange to talk about myself as the one who was seriously ill. I quickly envisioned everyone's initial reactions, reactions I wouldn't see because I would be already gone. I expected Paul's sisters would be very upset. His mother would probably be overjoyed, but I did think his father would be sad, for we had gotten along quite well despite Gladys Tate's feelings toward me. The servants would take it hard. I was sure there would be tears.
As soon as the news was spread throughout the bayou, all the people who knew me would feel terrible. Many of Grandmere Catherine's friends would go to church and light a candle for me. As I imagined these scenes, one after the other, I felt a sense of guilt for causing all this sorrow based on a grand deception and I began to wilt in my seat.
"Are you all right?" Paul asked after our dishes were cleared away.
"Yes," I said, but the tears burned under my eyelids and I felt one hot flush after another. Suddenly the room was like an oven. "I'll be right back," I cried, and got up abruptly.
"Ruby!"
I ran out of the dining room and into a bathroom to throw cold water on my cheeks and forehead. When I gazed at myself in the mirror, I saw how the blood had drained from my face, leaving me looking white as fresh milk.
"You're going to be punished for doing this," I warned my reflection. "Maybe someday you will become seriously ill, too."
My mind was in turmoil. Should I put a stop to it before it was too late?
There was a gentle knock on the door.
"Ruby. Beau's on the phone," Paul said. "Are you all right?"
"Yes. I'll be right there, Paul. Thank you."
I dabbed my face with more cold water, quickly wiped it dry, and then went into the office for privacy. "Hello."
"Paul said you weren't doing so well. Are you all right?"
