imitated Daphne perfectly, even to the point of intoning the same French accent and holding their hands not a split second longer or shorter than Daphne had. I simply said 'Thank you,' in English.
As if she expected either Gisselle or me to say or do something that would embarrass her, Daphne observed us through the corner of her eye and listened with half an ear, especially when Beau and his parents approached us. I did hold onto Beau's hand longer than I held onto anyone else's, despite feeling as if Daphne's eyes were burning holes in my neck and head. I was sure Gisselle's behavior pleased her more than mine did, but I wasn't there to please Daphne; I was there to say my last goodbye to Daddy and thank the people who really cared, just as Daddy would have wanted me to thank them: warmly, without pretension.
Bruce Bristow remained very close by, occasionally whispering to Daphne and getting some order from her. When we had arrived at the church, he offered to take my place and wheel Gisselle down the church aisle. He was there to wheel her out and help get her into the limousine and out of it at the cemetery. Of course, Gisselle enjoyed the extra attention and the tender loving care, glancing up at me occasionally with that self-satisfied grin on her lips.
The highlight of the funeral came at the very end, just as we were approaching the limousine for our ride home. I turned to my right and saw my half brother, Paul, hurrying across the cemetery. He broke into a trot to reach us before we got into the car.
'Paul!' I cried. I couldn't contain my surprise and delight at the sight of him. Daphne pulled herself back from the doorway of the limousine and glared angrily at me. Others nearby turned as well. Bruce Bristow, who was preparing to transfer Gisselle from her chair into the car, paused to look up when Gisselle spoke.
'Well, look who's come at the last moment,' she said.
Even though it had only been months, it seemed ages since Paul and I had seen each other. He looked so much more mature, his face firmer. In his dark blue suit and tie, he appeared taller and wider in the shoulders. The resemblances in Paul's, Gisselle's, and my face could be seen in his nose and cerulean eyes, but his hair, a mixture of blond and brown—what the Cajuns called
I got into the limousine.
Without saying a word, he seized me and embraced me.
'Who is this?' Daphne demanded. The final mourners who were leaving the cemetery turned to watch and listen, too.
'It's Paul,' I said quickly. 'Paul Tate.'
Daphne knew about our half brother, but she refused to acknowledge him or ever make any reference to him. She had no interest in hearing about him the one time he had come to see us in New Orleans. Now she twisted her mouth into an ugly grimace.
'I am sorry for your sorrow, madame,' he said. 'I came as quickly as I could,' he added, turning back to me when she didn't respond. 'I didn't find out until I called the school to speak with you and one of the girls in your dorm told me. I got into my car right away and drove straight to the house. The butler gave me directions to the cemetery.'
'I'm glad you've come, Paul,' I said.
'Can we all get into the car and go home,' Daphne complained, 'or do you intend to stand in a cemetery and talk all day?'
'Follow us to the house,' I told him, joining Gisselle. 'He looks very handsome,' she whispered after we were seated. Daphne just glared at the two of us.
'I don't want any more visitors in the house today,' Daphne declared when we turned into the Garden District. 'Visit with your half brother outside and make it short. I want the two of you to start packing your things to return to school tomorrow.'
'Tomorrow?' Gisselle cried.
'Of course, tomorrow.'
'But that's too soon. We should stay home at least another week out of respect for Daddy.'
Daphne smiled wryly. 'And what would you do with this week? Would you sit and meditate, pray and read? Or would you be on the telephone with your friends, having them come over daily?'
'Well, we don't have to turn into nuns because Daddy died,' Gisselle retorted.
'Precisely. You'll go back to Greenwood tomorrow and resume your studies. I've already made the arrangements,' Daphne said.
Gisselle folded her arms under her breasts and sat back in a sulk. 'We should run away,' she muttered. 'That's what we should do.'
Daphne overheard and smiled. 'And where would you run to, Princess Gisselle? To your half-witted uncle Jean in the institution?' she asked, glancing at me. 'Or would you join your sister and return to the paradise in the swamps, to live with people who have crawfish shells stuck in their teeth?'
Gisselle turned away and gazed out the window. For the first time all day, tears flowed from her eyes. I wished I could think it was because she really missed Daddy now, but I knew she was crying simply because she was frustrated with the prospect of returning to Greenwood and having her visit with her old friends cut short.
When we arrived at the house, she was too depressed even to visit with Paul. She let Bruce put her into the chair and take her in without saying another word to me or to Daphne. Daphne gazed back at me from the doorway when Paul drove in behind us.
'Make this short,' she ordered. 'I'm not fond of all sorts of Cajuns coming to the house.' She turned her back on me and went inside before I could respond.
I went to Paul as soon as he emerged from his vehicle and threw myself into his comforting arms. Suddenly, all the sorrow and misery I had been containing within the confines of my battered heart broke free. I sobbed freely, my shoulders shaking, my face buried in his shoulder. He stroked my hair and kissed my forehead and whispered words of consolation. Finally I caught my breath and pulled back. He had a handkerchief ready and waiting to wipe my cheeks, and he let me blow my nose.
