"Oh Louis, I feel terrible. I haven't brought you anything."
"Of course you have. You brought me your company, your concern, and you've given me the desire to want to see and be productive again. There's no way to measure the value of such a gift, but I assure you," he said, taking my hand for a moment, "it's worth far more than anything I could possibly give you in return."
He felt for my hand and then brought it to his lips and kissed my fingers.
"Thank you," he said in a deep whisper. Then he sat back and smiled. "And now open your first gift and don't swallow any reactions. I don't see clearly yet, but I can hear very well."
I laughed and untied the tiny ribbon so I could peal off the pretty paper without tearing it. Then I opened the small box and looked at what had to be a full carat ruby set in a gold ring. I gasped.
"Is it as beautiful as I have been told?" he asked.
"Oh Louis, it's the most beautiful ring I've ever seen! It must have cost a fortune."
"If it doesn't fit, I'll have it sized for you. Put it on," he said, and I did.
"It fits perfectly, Louis. How did you do it?"
"I've memorized every part of you that I have touched," he said. "It was easy. I felt the finger of the saleswoman in the store and told her you were two sizes smaller." He smiled proudly.
"Thank you, Louis." I leaned forward and kissed him quickly on the cheek. His expression changed into a serious one instantly. Then he brought his fingers to his cheek as if he could feel the warmth of my lips still lingering.
"And now," he said firmly, bracing himself for my words, "you must tell me if what I see with my heart is true."
I held my breath. If he was going to ask me if I loved him . . .
"You love someone else," he said instead. "Don't you?" I turned from him and looked down, but he reached out to lift my chin.
"Don't look away, please. Tell me the truth."
"Yes, Louis, I do. But how did you know this?"
"I heard it in your voice, in the way you held back whenever you spoke softly to me. I felt it just now in your kiss, which was the kiss of a good friend and not the kiss of a lover."
"I'm sorry, Louis, but I never meant to . . . "
"I know," he said, finding my lips with his fingers. "Don't think you need make excuses. I don't blame you for anything and I don't expect anything more from you. I am still forever in your debt. I hope only that whoever you love is deserving of your love and will love you as strongly as I would."
"So do I," I said.
He smiled.
"Now let's not get melancholy. As we French Creoles say, Je ne regrette rien, eh? I regret nothing. Besides, we can always be good friends, can't we?"
"Oh yes, Louis. Always."
"Good." He beamed a bright smile. "I can't ask for any better Christmas present. And now," he said, rising, "your second gift. Mademoiselle Dumas," he requested, holding up his arm for me to take, "permit me to escort you, s′il vous plâit."
I took his arm and we walked out of the dining room and into the music study. He brought me to the settee first and then he went to the piano and took his seat. "Your symphony is complete," he announced.
I sat there and listened to him play the most wondrous and beautiful melodies. I felt swept away by the music; it was truly a magic carpet taking me to the most marvelous places in my imagination and in my memory. Sometimes the music reminded me of the sound of the water flowing through the canals in the bayou, especially after a heavy downpour; sometimes I heard the morning songs of birds. I saw sunsets and twilights and dreamt of blazing night skies when the stars were so bright they lingered for hours on the surface of my eyes even as I slept. When the music ended, I was disappointed it was over. Louis had outdone anything I had heard him do before.
I rushed to him and threw my arms around his neck. "That was wonderful! Too wonderful for words!"
"Hey," he said overwhelmed by my reaction.
"It's incredibly beautiful, Louis. Really. I have never heard anything like it."
"I'm so glad you like it. I have something special for you," he said, and he reached under the stool to bring up another gift-wrapped box, this one much larger. I unraveled the ribbon quickly and peeled off the paper to open the lid of the box and look in at a record.
"What is this, Louis?"
"It's my symphony," he said. "I recorded it."
"You recorded it? But how . . ."
I gazed at the label on the record. It read, "Ruby's Symphony, composed and played by Louis Turnbull."
"Louis, I can't believe it."
"It's true," he said, laughing. "They brought the machinery to the house one day and I recorded it right in this studio."
"It must have cost a lot of money."
He shrugged. "I don't care what it cost," he said.
"It's such an honor. I'll play it for anyone who'll listen. How I wish Daddy was still alive to hear this," I said. I didn't mean to inject the note of sadness, but I couldn't help it. My heart was so full, and I didn't have anyone I loved with me to share it, not Grandmère Catherine, not Daddy, not Paul or Beau.
"Yes," Louis said, his face darkening. "It's painful not to have people you really love with you when something nice happens. But," he added cheerfully, "all that will end for both of us now. I'm hopeful, aren't you?"
"Yes, Louis."
"Good. Merry Christmas, Ruby, and may you have the healthiest and happiest new year of your life."
"You too, Louis." I kissed him on the cheek again.
That night, when I walked back to the dorm, I felt lightheaded. It was as though I had drunk two bottles of Grandmère Catherine's blackberry wine. All the way back, I was followed by a black-crowned night heron who called to me with its staccato quack.
"Merry Christmas yourself," I called up to it when it swung by to alight on the limb of an oak tree. Then I laughed and hurried into the dorm. From the open doorway of her room, Gisselle saw me enter the quad and wheeled herself out to block my path.
"Have another lovely dinner up at the mansion?" she teased.
"Yes, it was lovely."
"Humph," she said, and then she noticed the box I was carrying. Her eyes brightened with curiosity. "What do you have under your arm?" she demanded.
"A gift from Louis. A record," I said. "It's a symphony he composed and had recorded."
"Oh. Big deal," she said, smirking and starting to back away.
"It is a big deal. He composed it for me and it's called Ruby's Symphony."
She stared at me a moment, her face filling with envy.
"Do you want to hear it?" I asked her. "We'll play it on your phonograph."
"Of course not," she said quickly. "I hate that kind of music. It puts me to sleep." She started to turn when she spotted my ring. This time her eyes nearly popped out of her head.
"Did he give you that too?"
"Yes," I said.
"Beau's not going to like this," she declared after narrowing her eyes. She shook her head. "Another man giving you expensive gifts."
"Louis and I are just good friends. He understands that and accepts it," I said.
"Sure. He goes and spends all this money and time on you, and all you've been giving him is conversation," she replied with a twisted smile on her lips. "Who do you think you're talking to, some dumb Cajun girl who believes in tooth fairies?"
"It's true, and don't you tell anyone anything different," I warned her.
"Or?" she challenged.
"Or I'll . . . break your neck," I threatened. I stepped toward her and she gazed at me with surprise. Then she backed away.
"Some sister," she moaned, loud enough for everyone in the quad to hear. "Threatening her crippled twin with violence. Merry Christmas," she screamed, spinning around in her chair to wheel herself back to her room.
I couldn't help laughing at her this time, which only infuriated her more. She slammed her door shut and I went into my room to pack for our trip home for the holidays.
The next day we had an abbreviated schedule, at the end of which we were all marched into the auditorium to hear Mrs. Ironwood's speech, which was supposed to be a short holiday talk, wishing us all a good vacation and a happy new year, but instead it turned into a heavy series of threats, warning us about failing to do our term papers and reminding us that shortly after our return we would be facing midyear exams.