"No," I said, nailing my feet to the floor in defiance. "I don't understand how you could do this to poor Uncle Jean, who has no life, who has nothing but his own troubled mind."
"Good. So you don't understand." She sat back again. "Whatever," she said, waving her hand. "But for now, march yourself upstairs and close the door behind you or I'll call Beau's parents and have them bring him over here right now to hear what you and he did," she threatened, "and then punish you twice as severely."
My eyes burned with the hot tears of anger and frustration.
"But I have to be at the wake. . . . I should be—"
"You should listen to what you are told to do," she said firmly, punching out the words. She extended her arm, her forefinger pointing toward the stairway. "Now march!"
I lowered my head.
"Can't you find some other way to punish me?" I begged, the tears running down my cheeks.
"No. I don't have the time, nor do I have the energy to sit here and dream up ways to reward you for insubordination, especially when you are disobedient under these circumstances. I have a husband to bury. I don't have time to be a nursemaid to spoiled, defiant young girls. Just do what I say. Do you hear!" she shrilled.
I sucked in my breath, turned, and walked out slowly, my stomach feeling as if I had swallowed a gallon of swamp mud. When I got to my room, I threw myself on my bed and sobbed. I realized I wouldn't be able to help Uncle Jean; I couldn't even help myself.
"So where did you go?" Gisselle asked from the doorway. I turned slowly and wiped the tears from my cheeks. "Over to Lake Pontchartrain?" she asked, a smile of lewd suggestion washing over her lips. "To neck?"
"No. Beau took me to see Uncle Jean," I said, and described what I had found. "And so she's had him moved into a ward where he has only his bed and a beat-up metal locker," I concluded.
She shrugged, barely showing any interest. "It doesn't surprise me. I told you what Daphne was capable of doing, but you just don't listen. You think the world's all birds and roses. She's going to cut back plenty on what we get too. You'll see," she said. She wheeled herself closer and lowered her voice to a whisper. "It's better that we stay here rather than return to Greenwood. Put your brilliant mind and your time to figuring out a way to get her to let us stay," she said.
"Let us stay?" I laughed so madly I even frightened myself. "She can't stand the sight of us. You're the one who's dwelling in a world of illusion if you think Daphne would even consider having us around now."
"Well, that's just great," Gisselle moaned. "You just want to give up?"
"It's the way it is," I said with a tone of fatalism that shocked her. She remained there staring in at me as if she expected me to snap out of my mood and tell her the things she wanted to hear.
"Aren't you going to get washed and dressed for the wake?" she finally asked.
"Because I disobeyed Daphne and went to the institution to see Uncle Jean, I am not permitted to go to the wake. I'm being punished."
"Can't go to the wake? That's your punishment? Why can't I be punished too?" she cried.
I spun around on her so abruptly she wheeled herself back.
"What's wrong with you, Gisselle? Daddy loved you."
"He did until you arrived. Then he practically forgot about me," she moaned.
"That's not true."
"It is, but it doesn't matter anymore. Oh well," she said, sighing deeply and fluffing her hair. "Someone's got to entertain Beau when he arrives. I guess I'll fill in." She smiled and rolled herself back to her room.
I got up and gazed out the window, wondering if I wouldn't be better off just running away. I might have seriously considered it if I didn't recall some of the promises I had made to Daddy. I had to remain here to look after Gisselle, as best I could, to succeed at my art and become a credit to his memory. Somehow, I would overcome the obstacles Daphne was sure to place in my path, I vowed, and some day I would do just what she had said I would do: I would help Uncle Jean.
I returned to my bed and lay there thinking and dozing off until I heard Gisselle go to the stairway and have Edgar help her down to attend the wake. Then I got down on my knees and recited the prayers I would have recited at Daddy's coffin.
Martha brought up a tray of food for me, and even though she had explicit orders from Nina commanding me to eat, I just picked and nibbled, my appetite gone, my stomach too tight and nervous to accept much more.
Hours later, I heard a gentle knock on my door. I was lying there in the dark, with just the moonlight spilling through my window illuminating the room. I leaned over, flicked on a lamp, and told whoever it was to enter. It was Beau, with Gisselle right behind him.
"Daphne doesn't know he's up here," she said quickly, a capricious smile on her face. How she so enjoyed doing forbidden things, even if it meant doing something for me. "Everyone thinks he's wheeling me around the house. There are so many people here, we won't be missed. Don't worry."
"Oh Beau, you'd better not stay here. Daphne threatened to bring your parents to the house and get you in trouble because you drove me to the institution," I warned.
"I'll risk it," he said. "Why was she so angry anyway?"
"Because I found out what she had done to my uncle," I said. "That's the main reason."
"It's so unfair for you to suffer anything at this time," he said, and our eyes locked for a moment.
"I could leave you two alone for a while," Gisselle suggested when she saw the way we were gazing at each other. "I'll even go to the top of the stairway and be a love sentry."
I was about to protest, when Beau thanked her. He closed the door softly and came to sit beside me on the bed and put his arm around my shoulders.
"My poor Ruby. You don't deserve this." He kissed my cheek. Then he looked around my room and smiled. "I remember being in here once before . . . when you tried some of Gisselle's pot, remember?"
"Don't remind me," I said, smiling for the first time in a long time. "Except I do remember you were a gentleman and you did worry about me."
"I'll always worry about you," he said. He kissed my neck and then the tip of my chin before bringing his lips to mine.
"Oh Beau, don't. I feel so confused and troubled right now. I want you to kiss me, to touch me, but I keep thinking about why I am here, the tragedy that has brought me back."
He nodded. "I understand. It's just that I can't keep my lips off you when I'm this close," he said.
"We'll be together again and soon. If you don't get up to Greenwood during the next two weeks, I'll see you when we return for the holidays."
"Yes, that's true;" he said, still holding me close to him. "Wait until you see what I'm getting you for Christmas. We'll have great fun, and we'll celebrate New Year's together and—"
Suddenly the door was thrust open and Daphne stood there, glaring in at us.
"I thought so," she said. "Get out," she told Beau, holding up her arm and pointing.
"Daphne, I . . . ″
"Don't give me any stories or any excuses. You don't belong up here and you know it.
"And as for you," she said, spinning her gaze at me, "this is how you mourn the death of your father? By entertaining your boyfriend in your room? Have you no sense of decency, no self-control? Or does that wild Cajun blood run so hot and heavy in your veins, you can't resist temptation, even with your father lying in his coffin right below you?"
"We weren't doing anything!" I cried. "We—"
"Please, spare me," she said, holding up her hand and closing her eyes. "Beau, get out. I used to think a great deal more of you, but obviously you're just like any other young man . . . You can't pass up the promise of a good time, no matter what the circumstances."
"That's not so. We were just talking, making plans."