Ruby

'I have some of my paintings on display there,' I said.

'What?' My father sat back, his mouth agape. 'Your paintings on display?'

'Yes. One was sold. That's how I got my traveling money.'

'I can't believe you,' he said. 'You're an artist and you've said nothing?'

I told him about my paintings and how Dominique had stopped by one day and had seen my work at Grandmere Catherine's and my roadside stall.

'We must go there immediately,' he said. 'I've never seen such modesty. Gisselle has something to learn from you.'

Even I was overwhelmed when we arrived at the gallery. My picture of the heron rising out of the water was prominently on display in the front window. Dominique wasn't there. A pretty young lady was in charge and when my father explained who I was, she became very excited.

'How much is the picture in the window?' he asked.

'Five hundred and fifty dollars, monsieur,' she told him.

Five hundred and fifty dollars! I thought. For something I had done? Without hesitation, he took out his wallet and plucked out the money.

'It's a wonderful picture,' he declared, holding it out at arm's length. 'But you've got to change the signature to Ruby Dumas. I want my family to claim your talent,' he added, smiling. I wondered if he somehow sensed that this was a picture depicting what Grandmere Catherine told me was my mother's favorite swamp bird.

After it was wrapped, my father hurried me out excitedly. 'Wait until Daphne sees this. You must continue with your artwork. I'll get you all the materials and we'll set up a room in the house to serve as your studio. I'll find you the best teacher in New Orleans for private lessons, too,' he added. Overwhelmed, I could only trot along, my heart racing with excitement.

We put my picture into the car.

'I want to show you some of the museums, ride past one or two of our famous cemeteries, and then take you to lunch at my favorite restaurant on the dock. After all,' he added with a laugh, 'this is the deluxe tour.'

It was a wonderful trip. We laughed a great deal and the restaurant he'd picked was wonderful. It had a glass dome so we could sit and watch the steamboats and barges arriving and going up the Mississippi.

While we ate, he asked me questions about my life in the bayou. I told him about the handicrafts and linens Grandmere Catherine and I used to make and sell. He asked me questions about school and then he asked me if I had ever had a boyfriend. I started to tell him about Paul and then stopped, for not only did it sadden me to talk about him, but I was ashamed to describe another terrible thing that had happened to my mother and another terrible thing Grandpere Jack had done because of it. My father sensed my sadness.

'I'm sure you'll have many more boyfriends,' he said. 'Once Gisselle introduces you to everyone at school.'

'School?' I had forgotten about that for the moment.

'Of course. You've got to be registered in school first thing this week.'

A shivering thought came. Were all the girls at this school like Gisselle? What would be expected of me?

'Now, now,' my father said, patting my hand. 'Don't get yourself nervous about it. I'm sure it will be fine. Well,' he said, looking at his watch, 'the ladies must all have risen by now. Let's head back. After all, I still have to explain you to Gisselle,' he added.

He made it sound so simple, but as Grandmere Catherine would say, 'Weaving a single fabric of falsehoods is more difficult than weaving a whole wardrobe of truth.'

Daphne was sitting at an umbrella table on a cushioned iron chair on a patio in the garden where she had been served her late breakfast. Although she was still in her light blue silk robe and slippers, her face was made up and her hair was neatly brushed. It looked honey-colored in the shade. She looked like she belonged on the cover of the copy of Vogue she was reading. She put it down and turned as my father and I came out to greet her. He kissed her on the cheek.

'Should I say good morning or good afternoon?' he asked.

'For you two, it looks like it's definitely afternoon,' she replied, her eyes on me. 'Did you have a good time?'

'A wonderful time,' I declared.

'That's nice. I see you bought a new painting, Pierre.'

'Not just a new painting, Daphne, a new Ruby Dumas,' he said, and gave me a wide, conspiratorial smile. Daphne's eyebrows rose.

'Pardon?'

My father unwrapped the picture and held it up. 'Isn't it pretty?' he asked.

'Yes,' she said in a noncommittal tone of voice. 'But I still don't understand.'

'You won't believe this, Daphne,' he began, quickly sitting down across from her. He told her my story. As he related the tale, she gazed from him to me.

'That's quite remarkable,' she said after he concluded.

'And you can see from the work and from the way she has been received at the gallery that she has a great deal of artistic talent, talent that must be developed.'

'Yes,' Daphne said, still sounding very controlled. My father didn't appear disappointed by her measured reaction, however. He seemed used to it. He went on to tell her the other things we had done. She sipped her coffee from a beautifully hand painted china cup and listened, her light blue eyes darkening more and more as his voice rose and fell with excitement.