Ruby

by V. C. Andrews

  this. This is what you want to do?"

  "Yes, darling. With your full cooperation and

  guidance, that is," he said, rising. He kissed her on the

  cheek. "I guess I'll have to make it all up to you

  doubly now," he added. She looked into his eyes and

  gave him a small, tight smile.

  "The cash register has been ringing for the last

  five minutes without a pause," she said, and he

  laughed. Then he kissed her gently on the lips. From

  the way he gazed at her, I could see how important it

  was for him to please her. She appeared to bask in the

  glow of his devotion. After a moment she turned to

  leave. At the doorway, she paused.

  "You will be telling it all to Gisselle?" "In a few minutes," he said.

  "I'm going to bed. This has all been too shocking and has drained me of most of my energy right now," she complained. "But I want to have the

  strength for Gisselle in the morning."

  "Of course," my father said.

  "I'll see to her room," Daphne declared and left

  us.

  "Sit down. Please," my father asked. I took my

  seat again and he sat down, too. "You want something

  to drink . . . eat?"

  "No, I'm fine. Nina gave me something to drink

  before."

  "One of her magical recipes?" he asked,

  smiling.

  "Yes. And it worked."

  "It always does. I meant it when I said I have

  respect for spiritual and mysterious things. You'll

  have to tell me more about Grandmere Catherine." "I'd like that."

  He took a deep breath and then let it out slowly,

  his eyes down. "I'm sorry to hear about Gabrielle. She

  was a beautiful young woman. I had never and have

  never met anyone like her. She was so innocent and

  free, a true pure spirit."

  "Grandmere Catherine thought she was a

  swamp fairy," I said, smiling.

  "Yes, yes. She might very well have been.

  Look," he said, growing very serious very quickly, "I

  know how disturbing and how troubling this all must

  be to you. In time, you and I will get to know each

  other better and I'll try to explain it. I won't be able to

  justify it or turn the bad things that happened into

  good things. I won't be able to change the events of

  the past or make mistakes go away, but I hope I will at

  least get you to see why it happened the way it did.

  You have a right to know all that," he said.

  "Gisselle knows nothing then?" I asked. "Oh, no. Not a hint. There was Daphne to

  consider. I had hurt her enough as it was. I had to

  protect her, and there was no way to do that without

  creating the fabrication that Gisselle was her child. "One lie, one mistake, usually creates the need

  for another and another, and before you know it,

  you've spun a cocoon of deception around yourself.

  As you see, I'm still doing that, still protecting

  Daphne.

  "Actually, I was fortunate and am fortunate to

  have Daphne. Besides being a beautiful woman, she's

  a woman capable of great love. She loved my father

  and I believe, she accepted all this because of her love

  for him, as much as her love for me. In fact, she

  accepted some responsibility."

  His head bowed down into the cradle of his

  hands.

  "Because she was unable to get pregnant

  herself?" I asked. He lifted his eyes quickly. "Yes," he said. "I see you know a lot more than

  I thought. You seem like a very mature girl, perhaps a

  lot more mature than Gisselle.

  "Anyway," he continued, "throughout it all,

  Daphne has maintained her dignity and poise. That's

  why I think she can teach you a great deal and why, in

  time, I hope you will accept her as your mother. "Of course," he added, smiling, "first, I have to

  get you to accept me as your father. Any healthy man

  can make a baby with a woman; but not every man

  can be a father," he said.

  I saw there were tears in his eyes when he

  spoke. As he talked, I sensed every molecule of his

  being was striving to reach out and force me to

  understand even what he himself must have found

  inexplicable.

  I bit down on my tongue to keep from asking

  any questions. It was difficult to breathe, not to be

  drowned by everything that was happening so fast. "What's in your bag?" he inquired.

  "Oh, just some of my things and some

  pictures."

  "Pictures?" His eyebrows rose with interest. "Yes." I opened the bag and took out one of the

  pictures of my mother. He took it slowly and gazed at

  it for a long moment.

  "She does seem like a fairy goddess. My

  memory of those days is like the memory of a dream,

  pictures and words that float through my brain on the

  surface of soap bubbles ready to burst if I try too hard

  to remember the actual details.

  "You and Gisselle look a lot like her, you

  know. I don't deserve the good fortune of having two

  of you to remind me of Gabrielle, but I thank

  whatever Fate has brought you here," he said. "Grandmere Catherine," I said. "That's who you

  should thank." He nodded.

  "I'll spend as much time with you as I can. I'll

  show you New Orleans myself and tell you about our

  family."

  "What do you do?" I asked, realizing I didn't

  even know that much about him. The way I asked, the

  way my eyes widened at the sight of all these

  expensive furnishings in this mansion made him

  laugh.

  "Right now I make my money in real estate

  investments. We own a number of apartment

  buildings and office buildings and we're involved in a

  number of developments. I have offices downtown. "We are a very old and established family, who

  can actually trace their lineage back to the original

  Mississippi Trading Company, a French colonial

  company. My father did a genealogy which I will

  have to show you some day," he added, smiling. "And

  he proved that we can trace our lineage back to one of

  the hundred Fines a la Casette or casket girls." "What were they?" I asked.

  "Women back in France who were carefully

  chosen from among good middle-class families and

  each given only a small chest containing various

  articles of clothing, and sent over to become wives for

  the Frenchmen settling the area. They didn't have all

  that much more than you're carrying in your small

  bag," he added.

  "However," he continued, "the Dumas family

  history isn't filled only with reputable and highly

  prized things. We had ancestors who once owned and

  operated one of the elegant gambling houses and even

  made money on the bordellos in Storyville. Daphne's

  family has the same sort of past, but she isn't as eager

  to own up to it," he said.

  He rubbed his hands together and stood up. "Well, we'll have plenty of time to talk about all

  this. I promise. Right now, I imagine you're tired.

  You'd like a bath and a chance to relax and go to

  sleep. In the morning, you can begin your new life,

  one tha
t I hope will be wonderful for you. May I kiss

  you and welcome you to what will become your new

  home and family," he asked.

  "Yes," I said and closed my eyes as he brought

  his lips to my cheek.

  My father's first kiss. . . how many times had I

  dreamt about it, had I seen him in my dreams

  approach my bed and lean down to kiss me good

  night, the mysterious father of my paintings who

  stepped off the canvas and pressed his lips to my

  cheek and stroked my hair and drove away all the

  demons that hover in the shadows of our hearts . . . the

  father I had never known.

  I opened my eyes and looked up into his and

  saw the tears. His eyes were filled with sorrow and

  pain, and it seemed he aged a little as he stared at me

  with much regret.

  "I'm glad I've finally found you," I said. In an

  instant, that sorrow that washed over his beautiful

  eyes disappeared and his face beamed.

  "You must be very special. I don't know why I

  should be this fortunate." He took my hand and led

  me out of the living room, talking about some of the

  other rooms, the paintings, the artworks as we

  approached the winding stairway.

  Just as we reached the upstairs landing, a door

  was thrust open down right and Gisselle stepped out

  with Beau Andreas right beside her.

  "What are you doing with her?" she demanded. "Take it easy, Gisselle," our father said. "I'll be

  explaining it all to you in a moment."

  "You're putting her in the room next to mine?"

  she asked, grimacing.

  "Yes."

  "This is horrible, horrible!" she screamed, and

  stepped back into her room before slamming the door. Beau Andreas, who had come out, looked

  embarrassed. "I think I'd better be going," he said. "Yes," my father told him.

  Beau started away and Gisselle jerked open her

  door again.

  "Beau Andreas, how dare you leave this house

  without me!" she cried.

  "But . . ." He looked at my father. "You and

  your family have things to discuss, to do and--" "It can wait until morning. It's Mardi Gras,"

  Gisselle declared, and glared at our father. "I've been

  waiting all year to attend this ball. All my friends are

  there already," she moaned.

  "Monsieur?" Beau said. My father nodded. "It can wait until morning," he said.

  Gisselle swept back the strands of hair she had

  shaken over her shoulders in her rage and marched out

  of her room, glaring at me as she walked by to join

  Beau Andreas. He looked uncomfortable, but let her

  take his arm, and then the two of them marched down

  the stairs, Gisselle pounding each step as she

  descended.

  "She has been so looking forward to this ball,"

  my father explained. I nodded, but my father felt the

  need to continue to justify her behavior. "It wouldn't

  do any good to force her to stay. She would be less apt

  to listen and understand. Daphne does so much better

  with her when she's like this anyway," he added. "But I'm sure," he said as we continued toward

  my new bedroom, "in time she will be overjoyed and

  excited about getting a sister. She's been an only child

  too long. She's a bit spoiled. Now," he said, "I have

  another young lady to spoil, too."

  The moment we stepped into my new room, I

  felt that spoiling had begun. It had a dark pine canopy

  queen-size bed, the canopy made of fine pearl-colored

  silk with a fringe border. The pillows were enormous

  and fluffy looking, the bedspread, pillowcases, and

  top sheet all in chintz, the flowers full of Color and

  glazed. The wallpaper duplicated the floral pattern in

  the linens. Above the headboard was a painting of a

  beautiful young woman in a garden setting feeding a

  parrot. There was a cute black and white puppy

  tugging at the hem of her full skirt. On each side of

  the bed were two nightstands, each with a bell shaped

  lamp. But beside a matching dresser and armoire, the

  room had a vanity table with an enormous oval mirror

  in an ivory frame, the frame covered with hand

  painted red and yellow roses. And in the corner beside

  it, an old French birdcage hung.

  "I have my own bathroom?" I asked, gazing

  through the open doorway on my right. The plush

  bathroom had a large tub, sink, and commode, all with

  brass fixtures. There were even flowers and birds

  hand painted on the tub and sink.

  "Of course. Twin sister or not, Gisselle is not

  the sort you share a bathroom with," my father said,

  smiling. "This door," he added, nodding at the door on my left, "joins the two rooms. I hope the day will soon come when the two of you will move back and forth

  through it eagerly."

  "So do I," I said. I went to the windows and

  gazed out at the grounds of the estate. I saw that I

  faced the pool and the tennis court. Through the open

  window, I could smell the green bamboo, gardenias,

  and blooming camellias.

  "Do you like it?" my father asked.

  "Like it? I love it. It's the most wonderful room

  I've ever seen," I declared. He laughed at my

  exuberance.

  "It will be something fresh to see someone

  appreciate everything around here again. So often,

  things are taken for granted," he explained.

  "I'll never take anything for granted again," I

  promised.

  "We'll see. Wait until Gisselle works you over.

  Well, I see you've been brought a nightgown to use

  and there's a pair of slippers beside the bed." He

  opened a closet and there was a pink silk robe hanging

  in it. "Here's a robe, too. You'll find all you need in

  the bathroom--new toothbrush, soaps, but should you

  need anything, just ask. I want you to treat this house

  as your home as soon as you can," he added. "Thank you."

  "Well, get comfortable and have a nice sleep. If

  you get up before the rest of us do, which is quite

  possible the morning after Mardi Gras, just go down

  to the kitchen and Nina will fix you some breakfast." I nodded and he said good night, closing the

  door softly behind him as he left.

  For a long moment I simply stood there gaping

  at everything. Was I really here, transported over time

  and distance into a new world, a world where I would

  have a real mother and father, and as soon as she

  could accept it, a real sister, too?

  I went into the bathroom and discovered the

  soaps scented with the fragrance of gardenias and the

  bottles of bubble bath powder. I drew myself a hot

  bath and luxuriated in the silky smoothness of the

  sweet-smelling bubbles. Afterward, I put on Gisselle's

  scented nightgown and crawled under the soft sheet

  and down bedspread.

  I felt like Cinderella.

  But just like Cinderella, I couldn't help feeling

  trepidation; I couldn't help being frightened by the

  ticking of the clock that swung its hands around to

  clasp them finally on the hour of twelve, the
/>   bewitching hour.

  Would it burst my bubble of happiness and turn

  my carriage into a pumpkin?

  Or would it tick on and on, making my claim to

  a fairy-tale existence that much more secure with each

  pass-ing minute?

  Oh, Grandmere, I thought as my heavy eyelids

  began to shut, I'm here. I hope you're resting more

  comfortably because of it.

  12

  Blue-Blood Welcome

  .

  I awoke to the sweet singing of blue jays and

  mockingbirds and for the first few moments, forgot where I was. My trip to New Orleans and all that had subsequently followed now seemed more like a dream. It must have rained for a while during the night for although the sun was beaming brightly through my windows, the breeze still smelled of rain and wet leaves as well as the redolent scents of the myriad of flowers and trees that surrounded the great house.

  I sat up slowly, drinking in my beautiful new room in the light of day. If anything, it looked even more wonderful. Although the furniture, the fixtures, and everything down to a jewelry box on the vanity table were antique, it all looked brand-new, too. It was almost as if this room had been recently prepared, everything polished and cleaned in anticipation of my arrival. Or that I had gone to sleep for years when all these things were brand-new and woken up without realizing time had stood still.

  I rose from bed and went to the windows. The sky was a patchwork quilt of soft vanilla clouds and light blue. Below the grounds people were vigorously at work clipping hedges, weeding flower beds, and mowing lawns. Someone was on the tennis court sweeping off the myrtle leaves and tiny branches that had probably been torn and blown in the rain, and another man was scooping the oak and banana tree leaves out of the pool.

  It was a wonderful day to start a new life, I decided. With my heart full of joy, I went to the bathroom, brushed my hair, and got dressed in a gray skirt and blouse I had brought in my little bag. I put all my precious possessions in the nightstand drawer and then slipped on my moccasins and left my room to go down to breakfast.

  It was very quiet in the house. All the other bedroom doors were shut tight, but as soon as I reached the top of the stairway, I heard the front door thrust open and slammed closed and saw Gisselle come charging into the house, unconcerned about how much noise she was making or whom she might waken.

  She threw off her cloak and a headdress of bright feathers, dropping it all on the table in the entryway, and then started for the stairway. I watched her walk halfway up with her head down. When she lifted it and saw me gazing down at her, she stopped.

  "Are you just coming in from the Mardi Gras Ball?" I asked, astounded.

  "Oh, I forgot all about you," she said, and