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"Don't yell at her, Daddy," I warned. "She's--"
"I know what she's doing. I know exactly what she's doing," he said and left the room. I followed him downstairs. Mommy wasn't in the sitting rooms, the study, or the kitchen. We finally found her in her studio. She was sketching on an easel, but on either side of her burned a blue candle.
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"Ruby," Daddy said and she turned slowly. "Hello, Beau."
"What was that woman doing here? Why were you burning that stuff in our bedroom? And what is this with these candles?"
"I had to get us some good gris-gris and fight back, Beau. Don't be angry. I feel safe again. I'll start to work, too." She smiled at me, but I thought it was a strange smile, the smile of someone who was under a spell. Like Daddy, I wondered what that voodoo woman had done.
"I can't believe this," Daddy said. "Stinking up our bedroom . . ." He shook his head and then remembered why we had rushed home. "Anyway, we've got some good news. Pearl got Pierre to drink some juice."
Mommy just stared at him, that same strange smile frozen on her lips.
"Didn't you hear what I said, Ruby? Pierre has drunk some juice. Perhaps he can be taken off the I.V. soon. There's light at the end of the tunnel," Daddy said, obviously annoyed that Mommy remained so unanimated.
"Of course there is, Beau," she finally said. "I knew it. It's because of what the voodoo mama did here. Don't you see? Nina's going to help us . . . from beyond." She lifted her eyes toward the ceiling. "She's going to help us."
"Mon Dieu," Daddy said. "I can't believe this. Don't you want me to take you right over to see Pierre?"
"Not yet, Beau. I'm not ready yet. Soon."
"I give up." Daddy threw up his hands. "You talk to her, Pearl. Maybe you can get her to regain her senses so she can visit her son and not act like a lunatic," he cried and left the studio.
"Beau's always been so skeptical," Mommy said. "But he'll change." She turned back to her sketch.
"Mommy," I said, going to her. "You can't bury yourself in these rituals and charms now. You've got to come with me to see Pierre."
"Not yet," she said. "There are still some things to be done. Otherwise I'll only bring him bad luck. He'll understand. Later I'll make him understand. You see I'm right, don't you, honey?"
I said nothing. I gazed at the sketch Mommy was doing. She was drawing Jean floating in the swamp. "Mommy . ."
She continued her work as if I weren't standing there. After a while I started to turn away, but she sensed it and reached for my hand. "You've got to do something with me, Pearl. We've got to do it tonight. Only you must not tell your father. I know he'll try to stop us; he just doesn't understand."
"What, Mommy?"
"We've got to go to the cemetery at midnight. Mama Leela will be there with a black cat. We will be able to speak to Nina and see what else we can do."
"Oh, Mommy, no. We can't do that."
/> "We must," she said, her eyes wild. She was digging her fingers into my skin.
"Okay, Mommy. Okay."
She relaxed. "Promise not to tell Daddy."
"I promise," I said. Now I was feeling as if I were making a deal with the devil.
"Good." She smiled and turned back to her painting.
I watched her for a moment and then left. I found Daddy sitting on the sofa in the office, sipping from his glass of bourbon.
"Can you believe your mother?" he asked as soon as I entered.
"She's having her own sort of nervous breakdown, Daddy. We've got to be sympathetic and indulge her for a while, until she returns to her senses," I added.
Pain flashed in his eyes. "I thought she would want to rush out to the hospital with me. Instead, she's burning candles, painting weird pictures, and mumbling about chants and gris-gris. I've got only one friend now," he said and lifted his glass.
