"Where's my sister?" Gisselle demanded.
"She was in your room," Samantha told her. "Straightening up your clothes."
Gisselle gazed in and smirked.
"Who asked her to? Anyway, she's not in here now." Samantha came up beside her and looked into the room. "Oh. She must have left when I was in the bathroom." "Great. I want her to know just what that horrible Mrs. Weisenberg made me do until I got the answers right."
"Should I look for her?" Samantha asked.
"No. I'll tell her later. I have to get some rest," she said, and wheeled herself into the room, slamming the door behind her. She sat for a moment, staring at her bed. Then she reached back and snapped the lock on the door. I held my breath. As soon as she had locked the door, she stood up without wobbling, without much effort.
And I realized my sister could walk!
I slid open the closet door slowly, without much sound, but she sensed my presence and turned. Her eyes widened in astonishment, but I was sure they weren't as wide as mine.
"What are you doing?" she gasped. "Spying on me?"
"You can stand and you can walk. Mon Dieu, Gisselle!" She sat herself back down in the wheelchair.
"So what?" she said after a moment. "I don't want anyone to know it just yet."
"But why? How long have you been able to stand and walk?"
"Awhile," she admitted.
"But why have you kept it a secret?"
"I get treated better," she confessed.
"Gisselle . . . how could you do this? All these people, everyone slaving over you . . . Could you walk before Daddy died? Could you?" I demanded when she didn't respond, but she didn't have to respond. I knew she could. "How horrible! You could have made him feel so much better."
"I was going to tell him as soon as we were permitted to go home and leave this terrible place, but as long as I had to stay here, I wasn't going to tell anyone," she said.
"How did it happen? I mean, when did you realize you could stand?"
"I was always trying to do it, and one day I just did." I sat down on her bed, my mind in turmoil.
"Oh, stop making such a big thing over it," she ordered. She stood up and walked to the closet. The sight of her walking so easily seemed so incongruous. It was as if I had fallen into a dream. At full height again and able to use her limbs, Gisselle appeared changed to me. It was as if she had grown taller and stronger while confined to her wheelchair. I watched her brush her hair for a few moments, everything I had suspected now rushing over me.
"It was you, wasn't it?" I cried, pointing at her.
"Me? Whatever are you talking about now, Ruby?" she asked, pretending ignorance.
"It was you who was with Buck Dardar that night, wasn't it? That's why your shoes are caked with mud. You snuck down there and—"
"So what? He was the only game in town, although I must admit, he was quite a good lover. I hated to see him go, but when you were accused of being there, I thought it was perfect. Finally we'd get out of here too. Then your own loverboy had to appear and get you off the hook. Crummy luck."
"Did Buck think you were me? Did you tell him your name was Ruby?"
"I did, but I don't know whether he believed it or not. Let's just say he was happy to pretend I was anyone I wanted to be as long as I appeared."
"How often . . . All those times you kept this door locked," I said, turning to her door. I looked at the window.
"That's right. I would crawl out the window and have my rendezvous. Pretty exciting, huh? I bet you wish you had thought of it now."
"I do not." I pulled myself up. "You're going to march out of here right now and tell the truth," I said. "Especially to Mrs. Gray."
"Oh, am I? Well I'm not ready to let people know I can stand and walk," she said, returning to her chair.
"I don't care if you're ready or not. You will tell," I assured her, but she didn't seem intimidated. She wheeled herself toward me and looked up at me with hard, cold eyes.
"I will not," she said, "and if you so much as breathe a word of this to anyone, I'll tell Mrs. Ironwood about you and your precious Miss Stevens. That oughta do her in for sure."
"What? What are you saying?"
She smiled.
"Everyone knows about pretty little Miss Stevens who's afraid of boys but who likes to be around girls," she said, smiling. "Especially you, huh?"
It was as if a match had been lit in my stomach. The flame of anger singed my heart and sent smoke into my brain. I gasped.
"That's a disgusting, terrible lie, and if you tell anyone such a thing . . . ″
"Don't worry. I'll keep your secret as long as you keep mine," she said. "Is it a deal?"
I stared down at her, my mouth open, but words not coming, my tongue numb.
"I take your silence to mean it's a deal. Fine." She turned and wheeled herself to the door to unlock it. "Now, I do need some rest before dinner. Oh, and thanks for straightening up my room. I have been too hard on myself, trying to be independent. I might call on you to do little things for me from time to time. As long as we stay here," she added.
"Of course, once we're gone from this place . . ."
"You're blackmailing me," I finally accused. "That's what you're doing."
"I'm just trying to get along as easily and as comfortably as I can. If you were a good sister and if you really cared about me, you would do what I want for a change."
"So you're going to stay in that wheelchair and let everyone think you're still crippled?"
"As long as it suits me," she said.
"I hope it suits you forever," I snapped, and marched to the door. "I feel sorry for you, Gisselle. You hate yourself so much, you don't even realize it."
"Just remember what I said," she retorted, her eyes small and spiteful. "I meant it."
I opened the door to get a breath of fresh air as much as to get away from my twin sister, whose vicious, selfish face, despite the resemblances, made it clear we were truly strangers.
14
Unexpected Gifts
From my expulsion hearing until the start of our holiday break, I did the best I could to avoid and ignore Gisselle. It was obvious that she took delight in holding the dark cloud of her threat over me, and if I should so much as stare distastefully at her while she pretended to struggle along in her wheelchair or cried out for one of her entourage to do something for her, she would give me that icy smile and ask, "How is Miss Stevens?" I would simply shake my head in disgust and either walk away or return to what I was reading or doing.
Because of this constant tension between us at Greenwood, I looked forward eagerly to the holiday break. I knew that back in New Orleans Gisselle would amuse herself with her friends, and I could avoid her even more. Of course, I was anxious to see Beau, who was phoning me almost every night, but before I left, I knew that I had to visit Louis. He called to tell me he had decided that he would rather begin his stay at the clinic in Switzerland and attend the music conservatory during the holidays than remain at the Clairborne mansion for what he called another dreary Christmas. He anticipated an even more cheerless time because of my absence and his grandmother's and his cousin's lingering displeasure over what he had done for me at the hearing.
So I went up to the mansion to have dinner with him the night before the school vacation commenced. His grandmother did not appear anywhere in the house, not even to peer at me through a partially open doorway, much less come to the table. Louis and I sat alone in the large dining room, with the candles burning, and had a delicious duck dinner, followed by a French chocolate silk pie.
"I have two presents for you," Louis declared at the end of the meal.
"Two!"
"Yes. I've been to the city for the first time in . . . I don't even remember how long . . . and bought you this," he said, and then he produced a small box from his dinner-jacket pocket.