Fat Tuesday

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?