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"Bye, Aubrey." I cradled the receiver slowly.
"More problems?" Jack asked and I told him. He shook his head. "A lot has surely fallen on you, Pearl. Sure you want to stay here?"
"I've got to find my mother," I said and then thought I should call the hospital and ask after Pierre. The nurse at the ICU nurses' station was curt. My brother was still going in and out of a comatose sleep. His last sleep had lasted eight hours, and he had been conscious for less than a half hour. The doctors hadn't seen him yet this morning. The nurse advised me to call back in the afternoon.
My face wrinkled with worry as I sat down again. "Anything else I can do for you?" Jack asked after I gave him the hospital report.
"No. You'd better get back to work. I'll go visit my aunt Jeanne and then return." I told Jack where Aunt Jeanne lived, and he gave me directions and drew a small map on a napkin. Then he gave me the trailer telephone number.
"Just call here if you get into any trouble or need anything at all," he said.
"Thank you, Jack."
"You look like you could use a good hug," he said and did it before I could protest, not that I wanted to. He held me close and I laid my head on his shoulder. "Things will get better," he promised. "You'll see. And for good, logical reasons," he added with a smile. His words brought a desperately needed smile to my own lips, and then I left to see Aunt Jeanne.
Jack's directions were perfectly clear. I arrived at Aunt Jeanne's house a little over a half hour later. Aunt Jeanne's husband, James, was a successful attorney, but her family, the Tates, were one of the wealthiest in the bayou anyway. Her home, although not as large and grand as Cypress Woods, was impressive.
I entered the grounds through an avenue of large oaks and cedars, the canopy of thick leaves and branches casting long, cool shadows over the drive and giving me the feeling I was traveling through a tunnel into another world. Acres and acres of lawns and gardens surrounded the house. A small pond lay off to my left, the water now covered with an island of lily pads. The house itself was a long one-story structure with a gallery that ran across the entire front and one side of the house. French doors connected the front rooms to the gallery.
I parked my car and stepped out slowly. I heard the whir of lawn mowers trimming the grounds behind the house and saw a gardener pruning flowers in a garden on the far right. The flower beds were abloom with hibiscus and blue and pink hydrangeas. In the middle of the garden stood a three-tier fountain. Gray squirrels scurried around the gardener, some so close he could have reached out to pet them. He gazed up at me, but went right back to pruning as if an unseen overseer were scrutinizing his work.
The morning sky was streaked with long, thin clouds resembling mist floating over the light blue background, but I could see thunderheads off toward the Gulf, and I surmised that it was raining in New Orleans. As I stepped forward, a pair of cardinals paraded across the gallery roof and paused to look my way. Aunt Jeanne's home was certainly set in an idyllic location, magical and peaceful, I thought. I moved quickly up the steps and rapped on the door with the brass knocker. A moment later the butler greeted me.
"I'm here to see Mrs. Pitot," I said.
"And who should I say is calling,
mademoiselle?" he asked. He was much younger than Aubrey, perhaps only thirty-five or forty, and had light brown hair and hazel eyes. He was slender with a pointed nose and pencil-thin lips drawn taut in anticipation of my response.
"Pearl Andreas," I said. He nodded and stepped back to permit me to entry. I paused after he closed the door behind me.
"One moment, sil vous plait," he said.
I gazed around the entryway. It was a bright house with windows everywhere to let in the sunshine. It had beautiful cypress floors and eggshell white walls decorated with pastoral paintings and scenes of fishermen in the canals. A bleached oak grandfather clock stood just ahead of me, and across from it was a fan of ivory and gold leaf painted with senoritas in ball gowns.
A few moments later, in a bright pink robe and Japanese slippers, Aunt Jeanne came sweeping down the corridor, her face beaming. Her unpinned dark brown hair hung down over her shoulders.
"Pearl! What a wonderful surprise!" She held out her hands and when I took them, she drew me to her for a hug. "Is your father with you?"
"No, Aunt Jeanne," I said.
She grimaced with concern. "Your mother is still missing?" I nodded and she shook her head and sighed. "How dreadful for all of you on top of everything else that's happened. How is Pierre?"
"Not well. Very bad, in fact. It's why I'm here. I've got to find Mommy. Pierre needs her. I was hoping you might have heard from her."
"Not a word, not a syllable. I'm sorry. No one I've asked has seen or heard anything. But surely she'll turn up," she added. "Come," she said taking my hand again, "Mother and I were just having a late breakfast. Are you hungry?"
"No," I said. I hadn't expected to see Mrs. Tate. My legs began to tremble and my heart pound.
"How do you like our home?"
"It's beautiful and so peaceful," I said.
"Yes. I just love to share it with people I love. You must stay here tonight. Promise you will," she followed.
"I can't," I said. "But maybe another night," I added quickly when her smile faded.
"Well, if you promise that, I'll let you get away with not staying tonight. Come meet Mother." As she pulled me along I gazed into the first room, a pleasant sitting room done in teacup blue.
