"Where's your father?" she asked.
"In his study, asleep."
"Did you go to see Pierre?"
I nodded. "The doctor wants to move him to the psychiatric ward so he can get the kind of treatment he needs," I told her.
"Then he's no better?"
"Not yet, Mommy. But he will be."
She shook her head and looked away. "Don't think your sins ever go away," she said. "You confess, you perform penance, you hope for forgiveness, but your sins are indelible. They hover like parasites, waiting for an opportunity to feed on your good fortune."
"You've got to stop doing this to yourself, Mommy."
"Listen to me, Pearl," she said tightening her grip on my hand. "You're brighter than I was at your age. You won't make the same mistakes, and you won't succumb to your weaknesses. You don't have the weaknesses I had. And that is good because you don't just hurt yourself, you hurt those you love and who love you."
"Mommy?"
"No. What could a free, innocent soul like Jean possibly have done to be so punished? This is not his doing. The weight of my sins was placed on him, and he suffered because of that, don't you see?
"Nina knew," she muttered. "Nina knew."
I sighed so deeply and loudly that she spun on me.
"A long time ago I did a bad thing, and I'm not referring to getting pregnant with you. You are too beautiful, too wonderful, to be anything but good; but after you were born, we were alone in the bayou."
"You told me this, Mommy. You don't have to explain."
"I want to explain. I need to explain. I didn't agree to marry your uncle Paul just because your father was off in Europe living the rich young man's life."
"But you thought he had become engaged and there was no hope of you two ever marrying," I reminded her.
"Yes, yes, but Paul was my half brother. True, we didn't learn that truth until we were both teenagers and after Paul had already fallen in love with me, but that didn't excuse it."
"Excuse what, Mommy? Look how we were living when you returned to the bayou. Why shouldn't you have agreed to live at Cyprus Woods? You said everyone thought I was his child anyway."
"Yes, they did, and he did little to convince them otherwise."
"Why are you telling me all this again?"
"Because I gave in to him and let him talk me into marrying him. We actually were married by a priest."
"But you told me that was just a marriage of convenience, that you and Paul were like roommates."
"Not always," she said. "There was a time when we pretended we were other people, people from the past, and . . . I sinned.
"I didn't do penance; I didn't ask forgiveness. I pretended it didn't happen, but the sin was part of my shadow and followed me from the bayou. Slowly that shadow moved over this house and this family until it claimed my poor Jean."
"Oh, Mommy, no," I said. I shook my head. It hurt me to learn this, but I couldn't believe God would punish Jean for Mommy's sin.
She closed her eyes. "I'm so tired, but I don't sleep. I see only Jean's face, see only Beau rushing from the swamp with him in his arms. And when I looked back, I saw that shadow smiling triumphantly at me."
She opened her eyes and seized my hand. "Jean is still here, still with us, still in this house. I want you to go back to Nina's house and see her sister. I want you to tell her what's happened and get her to bring the right charms here."
"Mommy, you're talking nonsense. Daddy wouldn't let us bring charms into this house anyway."
"You've got to do it, Pearl," she said, her eyes wide. "Will you promise?" she demanded. I saw she wouldn't rest until she had my word.
"Okay, Mommy. I promise."
"Good. Good," she said, releasing my hand and closing her eyes again. "Now I can sleep."
I sat there for a while staring at her until her breathing became slow and regular. Then I got up quietly and slipped from her room, thinking about the heavy burden of guilt Mommy had kept buried in the vault of her memory. Surely it had weighed down her heart before, but she had been able to pretend it had never happened. She had been lonely and afraid, I told myself. Everyone she loved but Paul had deserted her. I could never blame her for anything evil. Never.
Mommy was like an invalid for the next few days, never leaving her room, getting up only to bathe and change her nightgown. Daddy and I visited Pierre often in the psychiatric ward. Daddy did a little work, but by early evening, he was usually in his study drinking bourbon to help him sleep.
One afternoon about four days later, I went to the hospital first. I started talking to Pierre the same way I always did: first reviewing the things that had happened at the house, the people who called, the friends of Pierre's and Jean's who had asked about him. I talked and talked and stroked his hand and kissed his cheek and told him how much Mommy needed him. And then the nurse's aide brought in some juice and as usual, I tried to get Pierre to take something by mouth.
It looked as if I would fail as I had so many times before, when suddenly his lips opened and his clenched teeth unlocked. Excited, I started to feed him the juice in tiny increments. He took some on his tongue, and then he swallowed and took some more.
"That's good, Pierre. That's wonderful. We'll get you off this I.V."
I rushed out to tell the nurse, who called Dr. LeFevre. By the time Daddy arrived, Pierre had drunk most of the juice. He wasn't speaking and he wasn't moving, but at least there had been this small change.
Daddy was overjoyed. "We've got to get home to tell Ruby. Maybe now she'll get up and come to see him," he said.
We hurried home; a shaft of bright light and hope had finally pierced the dark clouds over us. When we pulled into our driveway, we saw a tall, slim black woman leaving the house. She wore a long red skirt, sandals, and a bone-white blouse. Her bracelets were made of animal bones, and her dangling earrings were silver embedded with what looked like cats' eyes. She glanced our way, but didn't pause. I saw she had a scar across her right cheek with a triangular cut at the top end of it right beneath her sharp cheekbone.
"Who the hell is that?" Daddy muttered.
The woman disappeared around our gate. We hurried inside and up the stairs. Mommy wasn't in the bedroom, but a can of brimstone was burning on each nightstand. The scent of sulfur permeated the air.
"What the . . ." Daddy snuffed them out quickly. "Where is she? What is she doing?"
"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.
"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?"