Landry 02 Pearl in the Mist

by V. C. Andrews

"Oh, Beau!"

  "Will you wear it?" he asked.

  I looked into his soft blue eyes, eyes filled with promises and love. "Yes, Beau. I will," I said, and he put it around my neck, and then with his fingers he followed the chain down to the valley between my breasts where his ring sat snugly. I thought I could feel its warmth through my blouse, a warmth that traveled with electric speed to my heart and started it racing. He brought his lips to mine and I moaned, feeling my body soften and mold to his embrace. The parlor was only dimly lit by the illumination of one small table lamp and the flickering flames in the fireplace. Beau reached over and turned of the lamplight. Then he turned my shoulders and I permitted my body to slide under him on the sofa. His lips were on my neck, his fingers unbuttoning my blouse so he could follow my breasts to their fullness.

  Filled with abandon, tired of the anguish and agony that had pursued me relentlessly these past months, I turned myself to Beau with kisses that were even more demanding. Everywhere his fingers traveled I welcomed them, and when he lifted the cups of my bra away and nudged my nipples with his tongue and then his lips, I sank deeper and deeper into the warm pool of ecstasy that had flowed down from my shoulders, over my waist and legs, and brought tingling to the tips of my toes.

  I kept my eyes closed and just listened to the rustling of his clothing and felt his fingers move under my skirt and slip my panties down. I raised my legs and let him take them off completely. The realization of my nudity drove my excitement to an even higher pitch. I tasted his tongue, his lips, and kissed his closed eyes. Both of us were whispering "Yes" into each other's ears. I opened my eyes for just a moment and saw the shadows and light from the fire dancing on the walls and even over us. For a moment, perhaps because of the heat between us, I felt as if we were in the fire, consuming ourselves with our own flames. But I wanted it, I wanted it very much.

  I opened myself to him and he pressed himself forward and inward, calling my name as if he feared he would lose me even at this moment. I clutched his shoulders, pulling down on his back and joining him in the undulation that would make us feel as if we had become one entity. Wave after wave of passion washed over us. I couldn't distinguish one kiss from another. It became one long kiss, one long embrace, one graceful turn after another.

  "I love you, Ruby. I love you," he cried at his climax. I muffled my own cries in his shoulder and hung onto him with all my might as if that would prolong the ecstatic moments. Then we stopped moving and simply held each other and breathed hard, waiting for our pounding hearts to slow down.

  It had all happened so quickly. There hadn't been much of a chance to reconsider, not that I thought I would have. I had welcomed him, welcomed the relief and the passion, the love and the tenderness, the beautiful feeling; and in moments, I had

  smothered the darkness and the sadness that had haunted me for so long. As long as I had Beau, I thought, I would have sunshine.

  "Are you all right?" he asked. I nodded. "I didn't mean to be so . ."

  "It's all right, Beau. Let's not make each other feel guilty or dirty. I love you and you love me. Nothing else matters, and that makes whatever we do good and pure, because it's good and pure to us."

  "Oh Ruby, I do love you. I can't imagine loving anyone else as much."

  "I hope that's true, Beau."

  "It is," he promised.

  The sound of Gisselle's laughter coming from the stairway sent us both into a frenzy. We replaced our discarded clothing quickly and he turned on the lamp. Then I straightened my hair. He rose from the sofa and went to the fireplace to stir the logs just before John, carrying Gisselle in his arms, entered the parlor.

  "We decided to see what you two have been up to," she said. "And John's so strong, it's faster and easier for him to carry me up and down the stairs than for me to use that stupid electric chair." She clung to him like a baby chimp holding onto its mother, her arm wrapped around his neck, her cheek against his chest.

  Kneeling at the fire, Beau looked at me and then up at her.

  "I know that expression on your face, Beau Andreas." She smiled at me. "Don't try to hide anything from your twin sister, Ruby." She looked up at John, who was holding her as if she hardly weighed a thing. "Twins sense things about each other, did you know that, John?"

  "Oh?"

  "Yes. Whenever I'm unhappy, Ruby senses it quickly, and when she's been excited . . ."

  "Stop it, Gisselle," I said, feeling the heat return to my cheeks.

  "Wait a minute," she said. "John, bring me to the sofa." He did so, and she gazed down at me. "What's that around your neck? Is that your ring, Beau?"

  "Yes," he said, standing up.

  "You gave her your ring! What are your parents going to say?"

  "I don't care what they say," Beau replied, coming to my side. He took my hand. I saw Gisselle's look of surprise change quickly into a look of green envy.

  "Well, there's someone back at Greenwood who's going to be heartbroken," she quipped.

  "I've already told Beau about Louis, Gisselle."

  "You did?" she asked, dripping with disappointment.

  "Yes, she did," Beau said. "I must see if I can thank him for helping her at the hearing," he added. Gisselle smirked and then beamed with excitement, her facial expressions clicking on and off and changing as if her face were a television screen changing channels.

  "Well let's celebrate your giving Ruby your ring. Let's all go someplace. How about the Green Door? They don't check for IDs, or at least they never used to."

  "We told Daphne we were staying at home tonight and it's late already, Gisselle. She'll be home soon."

  "No she won't, and what's the difference what we said? She's being different, isn't she?"

  "Which is why I don't want to upset her," I replied. "How about popcorn? We'll make it in the fireplace and play backgammon."

  "Oh, that's just bundles of fun. Come on, John. Let's go back up to my room and leave these two old people knitting in the parlor." She ran her hand along John's upper arm. "Isn't he strong? I feel like a baby in his arms." She kissed him on the neck, and John blushed and smiled at Beau. "I'm so helpless," she wailed. "But John is gentle, aren't you, John?"

  "What? Sure."

  "Then let's go up. I need my diaper changed," she said, and laughed. I thought John was going to drop her, but he turned away, his face crimson, and hurried out of the parlor with her bouncing in his arms and giggling.

  "I can't help wondering," Beau said, "why I ever started with her."

  "It was Fate, Destiny. If you hadn't," I told him, "you and I might never have met."

  "I love you, Ruby. I love the way you can find the good in things, even in someone like Gisselle."

  "That's a challenge," I admitted, and we laughed. Then he asked me to play Louis's symphony. We sat listening with his arm around me.

  "It's wonderful how you inspired someone to do something so beautiful," he confessed.

  At twelve we went upstairs to call John out of Gisselle's room. She complained, of course, and did her best to try to get him to stay, if simply to violate Daphne's curfew. But Beau wasn't taking any chances about riling Daphne again. He told John sternly to come out and he did so.

  I kissed Beau goodbye at the door and then went upstairs.

  Gisselle was waiting in her doorway. The sight of her standing, even though I knew she was capable of doing it any time she wanted, still looked

  incongruous and surprising.

  "Well aren't you the happy one now," she said. "You've got Beau Andreas forever and ever."

  "Do you want someone forever and ever too?" I asked.

  "Of course not. I'm too young. I want to explore, have fun, have dozens of different

  boyfriends, before I marry someone just dripping with money," she said.

  "So why are you jealous?"

  "I'm not jealous." She laughed. "I'm hardly jealous."

  "Yes you are, Gisselle. You won't admit it, not even to yourself, but you want someone to love y
ou, only . . . no one's going to love someone so selfish."

  "Oh, don't start one of your lectures," she whined. "I'm tired. John's a very good lover, you know," she added, smiling. "A bit stupid, but a good lover. My pretending to be so helpless turns him on. It turns them all on, you know. Men like feeling in charge, even though they're not. I could play him like a . . . a flute," she said, laughing.

  "So then you are going to keep pretending to be crippled?"

  "Until I don't feel like it anymore. And if you have any ideas about exposing me . ."

  "I really don't care what you do, Gisselle, as long as you don't hurt anyone I care about," I said. "Because if you do . . ."

  "I know. You'll break my neck. The only neck that's going to be broken around here is yours when Beau's parents find out what he's given you. You'll have to give it back, you know. You had better prepare yourself for it. Good night, dear sister, and oh . . . merry Christmas."

  She closed her door and left me trembling in the hallway. She was wrong; she had to be wrong, I thought. Besides, tomorrow morning I would show Nina Beau's ring and ask her to prepare a chant or find a ritual that would throw a blanket of protection around our love.

  I went to sleep, curling up in my wonderful memories of lovemaking with Beau, memories and feelings that were still so vivid, it was as if he were still beside me. I even stretched out my arm and pretended he was there.

  "Good night, Beau," I whispered. "Good night, my darling Beau."

  With his kiss still on my lips, I drifted back into the warm darkness of my own love-filled heart.

  15

  Bought and Paid For

  .

  Even I slept late the next morning. When I was

  a little girl, I hated the hours of sleep between Christmas Eve and Christmas morning. It was torture waiting for the sun to come up so I could go downstairs and unwrap my presents. No matter how poor our year had been, Grandmere Catherine always managed to have wonderful gifts for me, and all of her friends brought things over for me as well. There was always one secret gift, a present without a name on a card to tell from whom it had come. I liked to pretend it was from my mysterious father, and maybe Grandmere Catherine let me imagine such a thing so I would continue to believe I had a father waiting for me out there. Prophet that she was, she anticipated the day I would leave to find him.

  But with Grandmere Catherine gone and now Daddy gone too, the excitement and the joy of Christmas morning had diminished until it was practically reduced to just another day. I thought this was true for Gisselle as well, but for different reasons, even though she bragged to everyone about the pile of gifts for us under the tree. With all that she had--the tons of clothes in her closets and dresser drawers, the mountains of cosmetics and the rivers of perfume, a queen's stash of jewels and more beautiful watches than there were hours in the day--I wondered what she could possibly be given and what would possibly excite her. I'm sure she felt the same way, for neither the morning sunlight nor the bong of the clock stirred her from her stupor. I knew she had to be suffering a hangover after all she had drunk the night before.

  I myself lay with my eyes open, thinking only about Beau and the promises he and I had made to each other. I wished I could jump ahead years until the day of our wedding, a wedding that would take me from this fractured family and place me on the threshold of a new life, one filled with hope and love. I imagined Gisselle off to the side with the wedding party, where she glared at us with green eyes, her envy curling her lips into a crooked, hard smile as I pledged my love and faithfulness to Beau and he did the same to me. Daphne, I thought, would simply be happy I was out of her hair.

  My stream of imaginings was broken when I suddenly heard a loud "Ho, ho, ho," and the ringing of sleighbells.

  "Get up, you sleepyheads," Bruce called from the top of the stairway. I rose and peered out my door to see him dressed in a Santa Claus costume and wearing a fake Santa beard. "Daphne and I are anxious to see you open your gifts. Come on. Wake up." He walked up to Gisselle's door and shook the strap of bells hard. I heard her scream and curse and laughed to myself, envisioning what that sound must be like to someone with her size hangover.

  "I'm coming," I shouted, after he did the same to me.

  I washed, then dressed in a white silk blouse with a lace collar and cuffs and a peasant skirt. I tied my hair with a matching silk ribbon, even though I had little excitement and felt I was just going through the motions. Martha Woods had been sent up to speed Gisselle along, but she was still standing outside Gisselle's door, wringing her hands and mumbling "Oh dear, oh dear," when I stepped out to go downstairs.

  I gazed through Gisselle's door and saw her rolled up into a ball under her blankets with just some strands of her hair leaking out.

  "Just tell them she doesn't care about her gifts," I said, loud enough for Gisselle to hear. Instantly, she threw back the blanket.

  "You tell them no such thing," she screamed, and then moaned. "Oh, why did I yell like that? Ruby, help me. My head feels like there are bowling balls rolling back and forth inside it."

  I knew that Nina had a recipe for an elixir that would cure a bad hangover.

  "Start getting dressed," I said, "and I'll bring something up that will help."

  She sat up hopefully. "Will you? Promise?"

  "I said I would. Just get dressed."

  "Martha, get in here," she commanded. "Why aren't you getting out my things?"

  "Oh, what am I to do? First she tells me to get out and then she screams for me to come in," she said, and she hurried in behind me.

  I went downstairs and directly to the kitchen, where I found Nina preparing our Christmas Day breakfast. "Merry Christmas, Nina," I said.

  "You be merry Christmas too," she replied with a smile. "I need two things from you, Nina, if you'll be kind enough to do them," I said.

  "What you want, child?"

  "First," I said, grimacing, "Gisselle has a head this big," I said, holding my hands near my ears, "from drinking too much rum."

  "This not be the first time," Nina said, smirking. "It don't help her none to make it easier for her."

  "I know, but she'll just make things miserable for everyone else if she's miserable, and then somehow Daphne will find a way to blame me."

  Nina nodded. "Okay," she said. She went to a cabinet and began taking out the ingredients. "Best if we have a raw egg with a blood spot in it," she mumbled as she began to mix things together. "I been savin' one I found yesterday." I smiled, knowing that if Gisselle discovered what it was she was about to drink, she wouldn't do it. "Here," Nina said after she was done. "Have her drink this in one gulp, no air. That be most important."

  "All right."

  "What else? You said two things you want from Nina."

  "Beau gave me his school ring last night, Nina," I said, showing it to her. "He's pledged his love for me and I've pledged mine to him. Can you burn a candle for us?"

  "You need brimstone, not a candle, especially if the love was pledged in this house," she added with wide eyes. "You bring Monsieur Beau to Nina's room later and Nina do it for the two of you while you hold hands."

  "I'll tell him, Nina," I said, smiling to myself and wondering what Beau would say when I proposed we do it. "Thank you."

  I hurried back upstairs in time to find Gisselle tearing into Martha Woods unmercifully for choosing the wrong clothing and the wrong shoes.

  "The woman has no sense of taste. Look! She wanted me to wear this blouse with this skirt and shoes."

  "1 just thought she'd want to wear Christmas colors today and . . ."

  "It's all right, Martha. I'll help her."

  "Oh. Okay," she said with relief. "I do have other duties this morning." She hurried out.

  "What's that?"

  "Nina's cure. You have to drink it in one gulp. If you don't, it won't work," I said.

  She eyed it suspiciously. "Did you ever drink it?"

  "I drank something like it for an upset stomach,"
I replied.

  She grimaced. "I'll do anything. I might even cut off my head," she cried and took the glass from me. She sucked in her breath and then brought it to her lips. Her eyes bulged as the elixir rolled over her tongue and taste buds.

  "Don't stop," I ordered when it looked like she would stop drinking. I had to admit I enjoyed her discomfort. She drank it all down and then gasped, pressing her hand to her heart.

  "Ugh. That was awful. It was probably poison. What was in it?"

  "A raw egg, I know. Some herbs. Some powder that might be rattlesnake bone--"

  "Oh no. Don't tell me anymore," she cried with her hands up. She swallowed hard. "I think I'm going to vomit." She lunged out of her chair to the bathroom, but she didn't throw up. A few minutes later she emerged, the color restored to her face.

  "I think it's actually working," she declared happily. "Pick out your clothes. They're waiting for us in the living room. Bruce is wearing a Santa Claus costume and beard."

  "Oh, how peachy," she said.

  When we went down, we found Daphne, dressed in her red Chinese robe and slippers with her hair neatly brushed and pinned and her face made up as if she had gotten up and prepared herself hours ago. She was sitting in a high-backed French Provencal chair, sipping coffee from a silver cup. Bruce was standing by the tree in his Santa outfit, beaming.

  "Well, it's about time you prima donnas came down. When I was a little girl I couldn't wait to open my gifts."

  "We're not little girls, Mother," Gisselle said.

  "When it comes to getting presents, a woman is always a little girl," Daphne replied, and she winked at Bruce, who laughed, holding in his false stomach. "It's time, Santa," she said

  "Ho, ho, ho," he cried, scooping up some gifts to bring to us. I sat on the settee to open mine and Gisselle opened hers in her wheelchair as Bruce made frequent trips back to the tree. We got more clothes, expensive designer sweaters and blouses, as well as skirts. We both received new leather half coats with matching boots and fur hats we would probably never wear. Bruce gave us charm bracelets, and there were gift packages of bath oils, talcum powders, and perfumes. As soon as Gisselle ripped one thing open and gazed at it, she was ripping at another.