"What can you do . . . mumble some Cajun prayer over my legs? The doctors were here; they told me the ugly truth."
"You can't give up hope. Never give up hope. That's what . . ." I was going to say, that's what Grandmère Catherine taught me, but I hesitated.
"Easy for you to say. You walked in here and you'll walk out," she moaned. Then she took a deep breath and sighed. "Have you seen Martin? How's he doing?"
"No, I haven't seen him. I came right to see you," I said and bit down on my lower lip.
"I remember telling him he was going too fast, but he thought it was funny. Just like you, he thought everything was funny all of a sudden. I bet he's not laughing now. You go see him,"" she said. "And be sure he knows what's happened to me. Will you go?"
I nodded.
"Good. I hope he feels terrible; I hope . . . oh, what's the difference what I hope?" She gazed up at me. "You're happy this happened to me, aren't you?"
"No. I never wanted this much. I . . ."
"What do you mean, 'this much'? You wanted some-thing?" She studied my face a moment. "Well?"
"Yes," I said. "I admit it. You were so mean to me, got me into so much trouble and did so many bad things to me, I went to see a voodoo queen."
"What?"
"But she told me it wasn't my fault. It was yours because you had so much hate in your heart," I added quickly.
"I don't care what she said. I'll tell Daddy what you did and he'll hate you forever. Maybe now he'll send you back to the swamps."
"Is that what you want, Gisselle?"
She thought a moment and then smiled, but such a tight, small smile, it sent chills down my spine.
"No. I want you to make it up to me. From now on until I say, you make it up to me."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Anything I ask," she said. "You better."
"I already said I would help you, Gisselle. And I'm going to do it because I want to, not because you threaten me," I told her.
"You're making the pain come back into my head," she moaned.
"I'm sorry. I'll go."
"Not until I tell you to go," she said. I stood there, looking down at her. "All right. Go. But go to Martin and tell him what I told you to tell him and then come back later tonight and tell me what he said. Go on," she commanded, and grimaced with pain. I turned and started away. "Ruby!" she called.
"What?"
"You know the only way we can be twins again?" she asked. I shook my head. She smiled. "I'll tell you. Get crippled," she said, and closed her eyes.
I lowered my head and walked out. Mama Dede's prescription was going to be much more difficult than I could ever imagine. Unravel the sisters of hate and love in Gisselle's heart? I might as well try to hold back night, I thought, and went to join Daddy and Beau who waited in the lounge.
Two days later Gisselle was told about Martin. The news struck her dumb. It was as if she believed that all that had happened to her, the injuries, the paralysis, was nothing more than a dream that would soon end. The doctors would give her some pills and send her home to resume her life, just the way she had been living it. But when she was told Martin was dead and in fact the funeral was being held that very day, she withered, grew pale and small, and sealed her lips. She didn't cry in front of Daphne or Daddy and when they left and I remained with her, she didn't cry in front of me either. But as soon as I started away to go with my parents to the funeral, I heard her first sob. I ran back to her.
"Gisselle," I said, stroking her hair. She spun around and looked up at me, but not with gratitude for my returning to comfort her, but with blazing, angry eyes.
"He liked you better, too. He did!" she whined. "Whenever we were together, he talked about you. He was the one who wanted you to come along with us. And now he's dead," she added, as if that were somehow my fault.
"I'm sorry. I wish there was something I could do to change it," I told her.
"Go back to your voodoo queen," she snapped, and turned away from me.
I stood there a moment and then hurried to catch up with Daddy and Daphne.
Martin's funeral was enormous. Many of the students attended. Beau and Martin's teammates were the pallbearers. I felt sick and horrible inside and was glad when Daddy took my hand and led us away.
It rained all that day and the next few. I thought the grayness would never leave our hearts and lives, but one morning I awoke to sunshine and when I arrived at school, I found the cloud of sorrow had moved off. Everyone was back into his or her niche. Claudine appeared to take over the leadership role Gisselle once enjoyed, but I didn't care, for I spent little time with Gisselle's friends. My interest was only in doing well in school and spending whatever time I could with Beau.
Finally, the day arrived when Gisselle could be brought home from the hospital. She had begun some therapy there, but, according to what Daphne said, she was still quite uncooperative. Daddy hired the private nurse, a Mrs. Warren, who had worked in veterans' hospitals and was very familiar with patients who had suffered paralyzing injuries. She was about fifty years old, tall with short dark brown hair and hard, almost manly features. I knew she had strong forearms, for I saw the way her veins bulged the first time she lifted Gisselle to make her more comfortable. She brought some of the military manner with her, barking orders at the servants and snapping at Gisselle as if she were a recruit and not an invalid. I was there when Gisselle complained, but Mrs. Warren wasn't one to tolerate it.
"The time for feeling sorry for yourself has passed," she declared. "Now's the time to work on getting yourself as self-sufficient as possible. You're not going to become a blob in that chair either, so get those thoughts out of your head. Before I'm finished, you'll learn how to do most everything for yourself and you will. Is that understood?"
Gisselle just stared at her a moment and then turned to me.
"Ruby, hand me my hand mirror," she said. "I want to fix my hair. I'm sure some of the boys will be over to see me once they've learned I'm home."
"Get it yourself," Mrs. Warren snapped. "Just wheel yourself over and get it."
"Ruby will get it for me," Gisselle countered. "Won't you, Ruby?" She fixed her steely eyes on me.
I went for the mirror.
"You're not helping her by doing that," Mrs. Warren said.
"I know," I said. But I brought Gisselle the mirror anyway.
"She'll turn the lot of you into her slaves. I warn you."
"Ruby doesn't mind being my slave. We're sisters, right, Ruby?" Gisselle said. "Tell her," she commanded.
"I don't mind," I said.
"Well, I do. Now get out of here while I'm conducting the therapy," she snapped at me.
"I'll tell Ruby when to leave and when not to leave," Gisselle shouted. "Ruby, stay."
"But, Gisselle, if Mrs. Warren thinks it's better for me to go, I'd better go."
Gisselle folded her arms and peered at me with narrow slits. "Don't you move from that spot," she ordered.
"Now see here . . ." Mrs. Warren said.
"All right," Gisselle said, smiling. "You're excused now, Ruby. Oh, and please call Beau and tell him I'm expecting him in an hour."
"Make that two hours," Mrs. Warren advised. I nodded and left. For once I agreed wholeheartedly with Daphne: life was going to get far more complicated and unpleasant with Gisselle as an invalid. The accident, her horrible injury, and the aftermath had done nothing to change her personality. Just as before, she still thought everything was coming to her, even more so now. I realized I should never have confessed to her. She had only taken the opportunity to make me into her slave.
If I had any idea that Gisselle's condition would make her feel less secure about herself when it came to boys, that idea popped out of my head the moment I saw how she reacted when Beau and some of his teammates arrived to visit her. Like some empress who was too divine to have her feet touch the earth, she insisted Beau carry her from room to room, place to place rather than wheel her about. She gathered the young men around her, asking Todd Lambert to massage her feet as she spoke, mainly to complain about Mrs. Warren and the terrible ordeal everyone was putting her through.