Even Pearl was looking up at me with an expression of confusion.
I breathed relief. Maybe, I thought, this wouldn't be as hard as I had imagined. In fact, Beau was so impressed with my performance, he decided we should go to one of the fine restaurants he and Gisselle often frequented and let the New Orleans social community learn the story as soon as possible.
Butterflies beat small wings of panic in my stomach. "Beau, should we? Maybe it's too soon."
"Nonsense," he said with confidence. "You settle in, choose something to wear, something Gisselle," he added pointedly, "and I'll take care of some business. Welcome home, darling," he said, kissing me softly on the lips. My heart fluttered as he hurried out and I turned to look at my sister's wardrobe.
12
Body Double
Our first evening out as Beau and Gisselle Andreas was a great success. I wore one of Gisselle's strapless outfits with a tight-fitting bodice. Beau laughed at my reaction to my image in the mirror. Almost all of her dresses had the same low necklines, so they revealed more cleavage than I would have liked.
"Your sister always pushed to the limits when it came to what was and was not socially acceptable," Beau said. "I think she enjoyed outraging high society."
"Well, I don't."
"Still, you look enchanting," he said; stepping back with a sensual smile painted on his face. He laughed. "There was nothing Gisselle liked more than walking into a fancy, expensive restaurant and having heads turn her way in astonishment."
"I'll be blushing so badly, everyone will know who I really am!"
"They'll just think it's Gisselle's way of flirting," Beau replied.
Heads did turn when we entered the restaurant. Beau carried Pearl, who looked adorable in the little sailor girl outfit we had bought her. I tried to imagine Gisselle's arrogance and swagger, but when people's eyes met mine, faces smeared into one giant blur and I instinctively looked down. However, none of the people we met who were acquaintances of Beau and Gisselle's displayed any suspicions. Whatever nervousness or uncharacteristic behavior they saw in me, they attributed to the current tragic situation. Gisselle was always willing to let people know how much she suffered. Nevertheless, I noticed that most people showed their sympathy more to Beau than to me, and I realized quickly that those who were friends with Beau and Gisselle were friends with them mainly because of him.
Beau cleverly announced anyone's name in greeting before I had to say anything.
"Marcus, Lorraine, how are you?" he would cry as they approached the table.
"Whose lovely child is this?" almost everyone asked.
"My sister's," I replied with a smirk. "But for now and maybe forever, she's my responsibility."
"Oh?"
That would lead to Beau providing the explanation. If anyone did show sympathy to me, it was solely because of the new burden I was to bear.
"As you can see," Beau told me on the way home, "most of Gisselle's friendships are thin and artificial. I used to notice how they never really listened to each other or cared that much about what each other said."
"'Snakes of the same color are drawn to each other,' Grandmère used to say," I told him.
"Exactly."
We were both so buoyed by my premier performances in the role of my sister, our hearts felt light and gay when we returned to the house. Beau had arranged for interviews the next day, hoping to hire new servants as soon as possible. I put Pearl to sleep in her new crib and new room, thinking to myself how wonderful it was that she was to have the room that had been mine. My father had been so proud of it and so happy with my elated reaction to it and the views of our gardens and property. To me it was the doorway to a wonderland. Hopefully it would become that for Pearl, too.
Beau came up behind me and put his hands on my shoulders and his lips on my neck.
"Feeling better?" he asked softly.
"Yes."
"A little happy?"
"A little," I offered.
He laughed and turned me to him for a long and passionate kiss. Then a small smile played about his beautifully shaped lips. "You know, you did look very sexy tonight."
"Not in front of the baby," I chastised gently when his fingers found the snaps on my dress and he began to lower it off my shoulders. He laughed and scooped me up to carry me to our suite. After he placed me gently on the bed, he stepped back and smiled strangely.
"What?" I asked.
"Let's pretend this is really our first night together as man and wife, our honeymoon night. We've never made love with each other before. We've touched each other, kissed each other hard and long, but I have always respected you when I courted you and you always said, let's wait. Well, now we're married; now it's time," he declared.
"Oh, Beau . . ."
He knelt down and put his fingers on my lips. "Don't speak," he said. "Words are too clumsy now."
I sat quietly as he gracefully peeled my dress down my arms. He kissed my shoulders, now gleaming in the soft light of the three-quarter moon streaming through our bedroom window. He unfastened my bra and drew it off me. For a moment all he did was gaze at me. My heart pounded so hard, I thought he could see the hammering under my breast. Slowly he brought his hands to me, caressing me. I moaned and lay back on the plush, fluffy pillows. I closed my eyes and just listened to the rustling of his clothing. I remained still, quiet, as he completed undressing me and moments later brought his naked body to mine.
Funny the power our illusions had over us, I thought, because we did make love as if it were for the first time. Each kiss was a new kiss, each touch a new touch. We made discoveries about each other, listened to each other's moans and heavy breathing as if we both heard things we had never before heard. Our passion was so great and so deep, it drove me to tears of ecstasy. If we declared our love once, we declared it a hundred times as we stroked the deepest part of ourselves repeatedly.
It was exhausting, but ecstatically so, leaving us both tired but content. All the problems and difficulties ahead of us became insignificant. Our lovemaking left us feeling invulnerable, for surely a romance this great was blessed and protected. It was immortal, indestructible, invincible. We fell asleep in each other's arms, blanketed by confidence, and my dreams took off on wings of fancy.
The phone's ringing early in the morning, even before Pearl woke, startled us. Beau groaned. For a few moments I forgot where I was. I blinked in confusion and waited for my memory to catch up with my senses. Beau groped for the phone and struggled to sit up.
"Hello," he said in a raspy voice. He listened so long without speaking, my curiosity was aroused and I ground the sleep from my eyes and sat up beside him.
"Who is it?" I whispered.
He put his hand over the mouthpiece. "Paul," he replied, and listened again. "Fine. You did the right thing. Just keep us up-to-date. No. She's still asleep," he added, fixing his gaze on me with wider eyes. "I'll tell her. Right. Thanks." He cradled the phone.
"What?"
"He said his doctor advised putting Gisselle into the hospital for tests, a CAT scan. His doctor had the same initial diagnosis as mine did, but he's not as pessimistic as my doctor was about the outcome."
"How did she spend the night?" I asked.
"Paul said she had a few periods of consciousness, but her babbling was so incoherent, no one suspected anything,"
"What's going to happen, Beau?"
"I don't know. My doctor was so definite about her condition." He thought a moment and shook his head. "I don't think anything will come of this."
"I don't want to have to wish for her to be sick and die, Beau. I couldn't be happy knowing my happiness was based on that wish."
"I know. It doesn't matter what you wish. Believe me," he said assuredly. "It's beyond what any one of us wants, even Paul," he added. "Might as well get up and start the day." He rose, but I sat there.
Mornings always had a way of sobering us up, I thought. Reality rode in on the back of the sunlight, erasing th
e magic we experienced under the stars and in the moonlight. I heard Pearl's cry and rose myself, that tentative feeling returning.
It had been a while since I had been in a kitchen, but cooking and baking for me was like riding a bike. The moment I began, everything came back to me and I not only prepared our breakfast, but began a gumbo for our lunch as well. Beau wasn't sure he could get back for lunch.
"Since the settlement and Bruce's departure, I've been running the Dumas Enterprises," he explained. "Of course, Gisselle did little more than cash checks and spend money. She was always bored with business."
"Paul conducted all of our business," I said, "but I wouldn't mind getting involved and being a real partner for you."
He shook his head.
"Why not?" I asked.
"Everyone working for us knows how Gisselle is."
"Tell them I've had a sudden change of heart and mind because of what happened to my sister. Tell them . . . I've got religion."
"Religion? Gisselle? No way anyone would believe that, mon chère."
"Well then tell them a voodoo spell was cast over me," I suggested, half-seriously.
Beau laughed. "All right. We'll figure something out to explain your new interests. We'll have to ease you into things slowly, though, so as not to arouse suspicions. In the meantime, I'll do what has to be done. I have three interviews set up beginning at two this afternoon: a candidate for butler, maid, and cook."
"I could do all of our cooking," I said.
"Gisselle couldn't boil water without burning it," he reminded me. I felt like a graceful dancer who had to suddenly appear clumsy. All my talents had to remain hidden. Beau kissed me on the cheek, kissed Pearl, and hurried off to the office.
After he left I took Pearl around the house to show her our new home. She loved our patios, fountains, and gardens, but was especially excited when I brought her to my old studio. The familiar sight of easels, frames, drawing tables, paints, oils, and clay brought laughter to her lips. She clapped her hands and I put her down on the floor and gave her a set of colored pencils and some paper with which to amuse herself while I began to reorganize my studio.
I was so lost in the work and my memories of pictures I had done here that I didn't hear the tapping on the windowpane for a few moments after it had begun. It grew louder and I turned to see a curly-haired young man smiling in at me. He was dressed in a short-sleeve blue shirt and jeans, the shirt opened down his chest to reveal a gold chain and medallion. He was a slim man about six feet tall with a dark face, light brown eyes, and very light brown hair, and I didn't think he was much older than twenty-four or -five.
"Open the window," he cried.
I walked toward him slowly and undid the latch.
"Pauline told me you were back. Why didn't you call?" he asked, and started to crawl in through the window. I stepped back amazed, but too shocked and confused to speak. As soon as he was in, he reached out to take my shoulders and bring me to him to kiss me passionately on the lips, twisting and turning his head and jetting out his tongue. I gasped and pulled out of his grip.
"What's wrong?" he demanded. He smirked. "Did Pauline tell you something? Because if she did, it wasn't true. Helaine Delmarco was here for only a couple of days, and her parents and my parents are like relatives. I think of her the way you would think of your sister."
"Pauline didn't tell me anything," I said.
"Oh." He heard Pearl mumble some of her baby gibberish and looked around the corner of the settee to see her seated on the floor. "Who's that?"
"My sister's child. It's the reason we returned so quickly. My sister became very sick. She's in the hospital. I'm looking after her baby."
"No kidding? You? Volunteered?"
"I didn't exactly volunteer."
"No," he said, laughing. "I guess you wouldn't. So that's it. All right. I forgive you, then." He started toward me again. "What's wrong?" he asked when I retreated a step. He smiled. "I watched and waited to be sure Beau was gone for a while. Where did he go, to the office?"
"No, he's coming back soon," I said.
"Oh. Too bad," he muttered with disappointment. "I thought we'd make up for lost time, especially in here. We had a good time in here once, didn't we?" he said, gazing around with a lascivious smile washed across his face. "On this very sofa," he added. "I still don't know why it was so important we do it in here," he added. "In fact, as I recall, it was a little uncomfortable. Not that I'm complaining," he said.
His revelation so amazed me that the expression on my face intrigued him.
"What's the matter? You don't remember? You make love so often in so many places, you forgot?"
"I didn't forget anything," I said sullenly.
He nodded and gazed at Pearl again. "So when will I see you? Can you come up to my apartment later?"
"No," I said quickly, perhaps too quickly. He squinted and continued to study me curiously. My pounding heart brought a hot flush to my face. I knew my cheeks were crimson.
"You're not yourself, for some reason."
"Well, would you be if your twin sister came down with a fatal illness and you were left caring for her child because her husband was too overwhelmed?"
"Fatal? I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was that serious."
"Well, it is," I snapped.
"Why don't you just hire someone to watch her for you?" he asked after a moment.
"I intend to, but not right away. I've got to pretend I care at least," I said.
"She's a pretty little girl," he said, gazing at Pearl again. "But little kids are little kids." He stepped toward me again, his eyes soft, demanding, his lips folded into an impish smile. "I missed you. Didn't you miss me?"
"I miss my freedom," I replied.
He didn't like the response and grimaced. "You weren't so indifferent the night before you left. You were moaning so loud, I thought I'd have problems with my neighbors."
"Is that so?" I said indignantly. "Well, you don't have to worry about the neighbors anymore. I'll do my moaning at home," I added with my hands on my hips in Gisselle's way and my head wagging.
"What?"
"You heard me." My voice took on the steely edge of a razor. "Now, leave before Beau comes back and you have to explain your injuries to your parents."
"Huh?" He shook his head. "Looks like you're the one with the fatal illness, not your sister."
"Would you get out of here?" I demanded, and pointed to the window.
He stood there and then smiled at me. "You'll change your mind. You'll get bored and call. I know you will."
"Don't hold your breath."
My reaction confused him. I could see him struggling to understand. A theory flashed. "You're seeing someone else on the side, aren't you?" he accused. "Who is it? Kurt Peters? No, you wouldn't sleep with Kurt. He's not wild enough for you. I know, Henry Martin, right?
"It's Henry, isn't it?" He nodded, convincing himself. "I should have realized that would happen when you told me you thought he was cute. How is he? Is he as exciting in bed as I am?"
"I'm not sleeping with anyone but Beau," I said, and he threw his head back and laughed.
"You? Stay with only one man? Don't make me laugh. Oh well," he said, shrugging with an air of indifference. "We had a good fling. Carey Littlefield told me not to expect too much for too long. So, as you see, dear Gisselle, your reputation precedes you. The only one who seems oblivious about it is your darling Beau Andreas. Or maybe he's not as oblivious as you think. Maybe he, too, has found other distractions."
"Get out!" I shouted, and pointed to the window.
"I'm going. Don't worry." He looked at Pearl again. She was staring up with confusion and some fear in her face because I had raised my voice. "You better get someone to take care of that child soon, before you ruin her," he said, and headed for the window. "Au revoir, Gisselle. I shall never forget the way you squealed when I kissed that little beauty mark under your breast," he added, and laughed as he crawled out the window. He
waved and was off as quickly as he had appeared. Only then did I release the air I had been holding in my lungs. I reached back to find the settee and sat hard.
My sister had been having affairs with other men after she had married Beau. Apparently he didn't know, because he hadn't said anything to me. How many more men would come sneaking around the house or calling? I had been lucky this time, but the next man might be more perceptive.
I should have realized Gisselle would have been involved with other men, I thought. She married Beau only as a way to get at me, to flaunt him. Even when she was going with him in high school, she was seeing other boys on the side. Whoever that man was who had just been here, he was right. One man was never enough for Gisselle. She was always thinking about what she was missing.
I could never be like that, I thought. Her friends would soon be chattering about how different she had suddenly become. I hoped they weren't smart enough to figure out why.
I regained my composure and continued to work on my studio. A little more than an hour later, Beau called to say he would be returning for lunch after all.
"Good," I said. He heard the tension in my voice. "Anything wrong?"
"I had a visitor."
"Oh? Who?"
"One of Gisselle's secret lovers," I revealed. He was silent a moment.
"I should have prepared you for that," he admitted.
"You knew?"
"Let's say I had some strong suspicions."
"Then why didn't you tell me, prepare me?" I demanded. His silence reconfirmed my theory. "You were worried I wouldn't go through with doing this, weren't you?"
"A little."
"You should have told me, Beau. It could have been a big problem."
"I know. I'm sorry. What did you do? How did it go? You didn't . . ."
"Of course not. I acted annoyed about everything and drove him off. He accused me of sleeping with someone else. I don't even know his name."
"What did he look like?"
I described him quickly and Beau laughed.
"George Denning. No wonder he was so nice to me all the time." He laughed again. "I would have thought she would have chosen someone better-looking."
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