by Sandra Brown
consider moving her into another school, where she'll have interaction
with other young people and get a better feel for what the world is
like."
"I'll think about it."
Sister Beatrice withdrew slowly, gracefully, and silently, except for
the whispering of her habit and the clacking of her rosary beads.
In contrast, Flarra flounced in and slammed the door closed. Her
expression mutinous, she threw herself into the chair facing Remy's and
glared hard at her older sister."Well? Are they kicking me out? I hope."
"No such luck for you."
Flarra's resentment lasted only another few seconds before her hauteur
collapsed and her eyes filled with tears."Remy, I can't stand it in here
any longer!"
"Is that why you and three of your friends sneaked out?"
"We didn't get very far."
A policeman had seen the girls, recognized them as too young to be out
walking past midnight, picked them up in his patrol car, and returned
them to the school.
"Where were you off to?" Remy asked.
"The French Quarter."
"At that time of night? Don't you see what an irresponsible and crazy
thing that was to do, Flarra? The Quarter isn't safe."
"I wouldn't know. I never get to go."
"Pinkie and I take you there all the time. You've eaten in the finest
restaurants, shopped in the best boutiques."
"With you and Pinkie. Big deal. It's not the same as going with a group
of friends."
Remy conceded that her sister had a point, and her tone softened.
"No, I'm sure it's not."
Noticing the change in her sister, Flarra looked across at her.
"Did you ever sneak out?"
"Once," Remy admitted with a mischievous smile."Two of us. But we didn't
get caught. We sneaked back in before we were discovered missing."
"If you confessed to Sister Be today, she'd probably make you do
penance."
"Probably." Remy laughed."Actually I wasn't so scared of her finding out
as I was that Pinkie would hear of it."
"How old were you?"
"Seventeen. Thereabouts."
"You got married when you were seventeen."
"Hmm. The day after graduation."
"You're so lucky," Flarra grumbled, her chin resting on her chest."To
have a man fall so madly in love with you that he couldn't wait for you
any longer. All my friends think it's the most wildly romantic story
they've ever heard. How he became your guardian, paid for your schooling
here, then married you right away."
At the time, it had seemed romantic to Remy, too. Pinkie had been like a
knight in armor who rescued her and Flarra from a squalid life and
certain doom. It seemed like a lifetime ago. To be exact, her lifetime.
"One day, you'll have a man fall madly in love with you," Remy assured
her.
Of the two, Flarra was prettier. Her animated eyes were the vivid light
green of springtime buds. Her hair was dark and glossy like Remy's, but
Flarra's natural curls were unruly and extravagant. Since they'd had
different fathers, neither of which was known to them, and since their
mother had no family that claimed her, it was anyone's guess where this
curly gene had originated.
Flarra's young body was lithe and slender and athletic, but gently
rounded where it should be. The tailored school uniform couldn't
completely hide the female form beneath it. That's why Remy shuddered to
think of her innocent sister walking the streets of the Vieux Carre late
at night where she would be prey for rowdy tourists, drunken
collegiates, and countless miscreants with depravity on their minds.
"Who'll have a chance of falling in love with me when I'm locked up in
here?" Flarra whined, bringing Remy back to the conversation.
"Only another year and a half, then you'll graduate and be off to
college where you'll meet many new friends."
"Remy ..." Flarra slid from her chair onto her knees and knelt in front
of her sister."My spirit is dying in here. I've lived inside these walls
for as long as I can remember. I want to explore and experience new
places. I want to meet new and interesting people. I want to meet men.
I've never even been kissed."
"You told me your date to the Christmas dance kissed you."
"That?" Her face puckered with disgust."That doesn't count. He grabbed
me and sort of poked his mouth against mine when the nuns werent
looking. It was gross. He was all sweaty and nervous. Rather than
turning me on, it made me mad."
She inched closer and lowered her voice to an urgent whisper."I'm
talking about a real kiss, Remy. I want to go on a real date without
nuns watching every move. I want " "Romance."
"Well, what's wrong with that?" Reaching for Remy's hands, she pressed
them between her own."Please, please, please, let me come I live with
you and Pinkie and go to a coed school. Just for my senior year."
Flarra was bursting to experience Life in its capitalized form.
She was curious about men because her exposure to them was limited to
Pinkie, who treated her like a father would or at least a loving uncle.
Like any youth her age, her hormones were raging. That physiological
boiling pot was seasoned with Flarra's innate zest for life, her active
imagination and natural exuberance, and her curiosity.
Remy could understand her sister's restlessness, but she couldn't
exactly relate to it. She had been an adolescent when she was admitted
to the academy, but it hadn't seemed a restricting place. It had been a
refuge. For her, it had been a clean, quiet, and restful haven.
Within its ivy-covered walls she had enjoyed a sense of safety and
serenity that she hadn't known was possible. Music amounted to the hymns
sung at mass and benediction, not a radio blaring at all hours of the
day and night. No frightening characters drifted toward the alcove where
she slept. There were no sly looks to fear and avoid, no drug-related
rages, no filthy language, no frantic coupling on unmade beds or on any
surface that wasn't being otherwise utilized. There was no hunger, and
no crying baby for which she was solely responsible.
Remy gave one of Flarra's springy curls an affectionate tug, her heart
swelling with love for that sickly, crying baby who had depended on her
for everything food, caring, love, and protection when she was little
more than a baby herself. Despite that stunting first year, Flarra had
grown into an incredibly intelligent and beautiful young woman.
Remy had protected her from harm when she was a newborn, and she would
continue to protect her until her dying breath.
"I'll speak to Pinkie about it."
"Promise?"
"I promise to speak with him," Remy emphasized."I don't promise that our
decision will be what you want."
"Pinkie wouldn't mind if I came to live with you, would he?"
"His favorite sister-in-law?" Remy scoffed.
In fact, Pinkie had objected to Flarra's living with them when they
married. She had been living in a foster home while Remy attended
Blessed Heart, he said it would be cruel to uproot the child yet
again.
That was the reason he gave. The real reason, Remy knew, was that he
hadn't wanted Remy's time, attention, and loyalty to be divided between
him and her sister.
When Flarra was old enough to go to school, he had moved her to Blessed
Heart, convincing Remy that Flarra would receive the best upbringing in
the boarding school. She'd really had no choice then except to agree,
and, looking back on her years of marriage to Pinkie Duvall, she
realized that it had been the best arrangement for all of them.
Over the years, Pinkie might have changed his mind about having Flarra
with them. Remy didn't know. She hadn't asked. Because she was the one
now opposed to Flarra's living under their roof. God forbid that her
impressionable and impulsive younger sister come into contact with
Pinkie's nefarious associates men like Wayne Bardo.
Granting Flarra's request was out of the question, but she couldn't tell
the girl that without having a battle on her hands. Nor could she tell
her the reasons why she opposed it, or discuss with her matters that she
wouldn't understand.
She couldn't talk to Flarra about Galveston.
For the time being Remy remained noncommittal."A lot will depend on how
you conduct yourself for the remainder of this semester. Will you behave
yourself?"
The sixteen-year-old took that as a definite maybe. She leaped to her
feet and executed a graceful pirouette."I promise on my maidenhead."
"Flarra!"
"Don't freak. That's all that's going on with my maidenhead. What about
Mardi Gras?"
"What about it?" "Last year you said that maybe this year I could come
to your party." "That's right I said maybe."
"Reee-my."
"I'll bring it up with Pinkie, Flarra. You're hardly in a position to be
asking for favors."
"But you'll ask him," the girl insisted.
"I'll ask." Then Flarra took Remy's hands and pulled her into a hug.
"Thanks, sis.
I love you."
Remy hugged her tightly, whispering, "I love you, too."
When they pulled apart, Flarra's face had turned sad."What do you think
she would think of me? Of us?"
Flarra could only be talking about their mother."Who knows? I don't
think about her at all," Remy lied.
"Neither do I."
Flarra was lying too. Naturally they thought about the woman who had
given them away without a smidgen of regret. Of course if she hadn't,
Flarra probably would have died before her second birthday.
As to Remy's fate, she knew what she would have become.
"I must go," she said, moving toward the door."Pinkie will be getting
home soon."
"Does he make love to you every night?"
"None of your business."
"We my friends and me think he does. Completely naked and with the
lights on. Are we right?"
"Instead of speculating on my sex life, shouldn't you be studying
geometry?"
"Remy, are you feeling okay?"
It was customary for Flarra to switch subjects with rocket speed.
This time she caught Remy with her guard down."Am I feeling okay?
Sure.
Why do you ask?"
"The last few times you've been to see me, you look sort of, I don't
know, tired."
"I am, a bit. We hosted a party night before last. I was up late."
Scrubbing offBardo's touch, she added to herself.
"If you're sick, don't lie to me."
"I'm not sick."
Flarra's eyes brightened and her voice dropped to a hush."Could you be
pregnant?"
"No, I'm not pregnant."
"Damn. I thought maybe ..." She pulled her lower lip through her teeth.
"You don't have cancer or something, do you, Remy?"
"No! Of course not. Flarra, I swear, there's nothing wrong with me."
'"But if something were wrong with you, something terrible, you'd tell
me?"
'"I would tell you."
"Because I'm not a kid."
"I know that."
" Cause if I lost you, I ... you, Remy."
"A herA "Wouldn't lose "You won't," Remy declared with soft urgency."I
swear I'll always be here for you. If something were wrong, I'd tell
you, but there's not, so don't worry. Okay?"
Flarra released a gust of breath and flashed her engaging grin.
"Okay.
I'll see you Friday night." "No. I'm afraid we won't be taking you to
dinner as planned."
"How come?" From the threshold of Sister Beatrice's office, Remy looked
back at her crestfallen sister."Because you squandered that privilege on
your adventure last night." Ipon of a bitch," Burke said softly.
He cursed with disbelief. Mrs. Pinkie Duvall was the woman he'd seen in
the gazebo. Sitting behind the steering wheel of his car, he watched her
enter the exclusive girls' school. Even from half a block away, he
couldn't mistake her.
A little more than an hour ago, he had asked Ruby Bouchereaux, "What's a
remy?"
"Not a what. A who. Pinkie's wife."
That Duvall was married had been a staggering revelation. Burke didn't
recall ever hearing about a wife. Marital bliss just wasn't in his
mental character profile of the flamboyant defense attorney.
As soon as he left the brothel, he drove to Duvall's neighborhood and
cruised past the estate several times. He didn't really expect to see
anything, but he got lucky. While he was making a turn-around down the
street, a limousine came from the rear of the property and drove right
past him. Since it was business hours, he assumed that Duvall was either
in court or at his law office downtown. Was the lady of the house in the
limo?
He had followed it here, to Blessed Heart Academy, and watched with
dismay as the woman he recognized alighted with the assistance of the
chauffeur. Chauffeur and bodyguard, Burke thought. After Mrs. Duvall
went inside, the man took up his post at the gate. Burke wasn't
surprised by the vigilance. Ruby Bouchereaux had already told him that
Duvall kept an eagle eye on his wife.
"You didn't know he was married?" the madam had said, gauging his
astonishment."I'm not surprised. Pinkie keeps her under lock and key."
"Why? What's wrong with her?"
"Nothing," she replied with a soft laugh."I see her periodically.
She's quite beautiful. As was her mother, until her lifestyle began to
take its toll."
Burke listened raptly as Ruby told him about Remy's mother, Angel.
"She was an exotic dancer in one of the nightclubs Pinkie owns. This was
twenty or more years ago. Angel Lambeth had talent and a promising
career, but she became pregnant and had to quit dancing long enough to
have the baby. When she returned to work, she was not only a mother, but
an addict. Heroin, I believe. Her performance got sloppy. The drugs took
a toll on her looks. So she was transferred to a club with a less
critical clientele. A dive. You know the kind of place."
"What about her daughter?"
"When she was old enough, Remy became Pinkie's bride. Beyond that, I
know very little of the mysterious Remy. No one knows much."
"How did
Angel fare?"
"Badly. She was eventually demoted from dancing to running the cash
register. Shortly after Pinkie married the girl, Angel died.
Supposedly of an overdose."
"Supposedly?"
Ruby Bouchereaux arched her brow eloquently."Pinkie was a big man around
town by then. Would he embrace a drug-addicted mother-in-law who turned
tricks to support her habit?"
"You think he disposed of Angel to spare himself embarrassment?"
"Or the cost of rehab. He probably considered Angel a bad investment In
any case, her death was awfully convenient for him, wasn't it?"
Now, his butt growing numb from sitting so long in his car, Burke
reviewed the story from every angle, wishing he knew the information
that would fill in all the blanks. What was Mrs. Duvall doing here at
the school? Did they have a kid?