All That Glitters

Monsieur Polk was waiting for us in the corridor. 'I must confess,' he said, 'I had my doubts as to the veracity of your story. I am happy for you. Good luck.'

We stepped outside to wait for the car that would bring Pearl back to us. There were still people who had been in the courtroom lingering about, discussing the shocking events. I spotted Mrs. Thibodeau, one of Grandmere Catherine's old friends. She had trouble walking now, but she hobbled her way toward us and took my hand.

'I knew it was you,' she said. 'I told myself Catherine Landry's granddaughter might have been a twin, but she had lived most of her life with Catherine and she had her spirit in her. I looked at your face in that courtroom and I saw your Grandmere looking back at me and I knew it would turn out right.'

'Thank you, Mrs. Thibodeau.'

'God bless you, child, and don't forget us.'

'I won't. We'll be back,' I promised. She hugged me and I watched her walk way, my heart heavy with the memory of my Grandmere walking alongside her friends to church.

The peekaboo sun slipped out from under the mushrooming clouds and dropped warm rays around us as the car with Pearl in it was driven up. The nurse in the front seat opened the door and helped her out. The moment Pearl saw me, her eyes brightened.

'Mommy!' she cried.

It was the best word in the world. Nothing filled my heart with more joy. I held out my arms for her to run to me and then I flooded her faces with kisses and pressed her close. Beau put his arm around my shoulders. All around us, people watched with smiles on their faces.

As we started from the courthouse, I saw the Tates' limousine drive away. The windows were dark, but as the sunlight grew stronger, the silhouette of Madame Tate became clearly outlined. She looked as if she had turned to stone.

I felt sorry for her, even though she had done a very mean thing. She had lost everything today, much more than her vengeance. Her illusionary life had been shattered around her like so much thin china. She was going home to a darker, more troubled time. I prayed that somehow she and Octavious could find a renewal and a peace now that the lies were stripped away.

'Let's go home,' Beau said.

Never did those words mean as much to me as they did now.

'I want to make one stop first, Beau,' I said. He didn't have to ask where.

A little while later, I stood in front of Grandmere Catherine's tombstone.

A true traiteur has a very holy spirit, I thought. She lingers longer to look after the loved ones she has left behind. Grandmere Catherine's spirit was still here. I could feel it, feel her hovering nearby. The breeze became her whisper, its caress, her kiss.

I smiled and gazed up at the light blue sky streaked with thin wisps of clouds now. Mrs. Thibodeau was right, I thought. Grandmere had been with me this day. I kissed my fingers and touched her stone and then I returned to the car and to Beau and to my darling Pearl.

As we drove away, I gazed out the window and saw a marsh hawk strutting on a cypress branch. It watched us and then it lifted into the wind and soared beside and around us for a while until it turned and headed deeper into the bayou.

'Good-bye, Paul,' I whispered. But I'll be back, I thought.

I'll be back.

Epilogue

My dreams of having a glorious wedding were still not to become a reality. The publicity and all the commotion surrounding the custody hearing continued to hover about us when we returned to New Orleans. Beau thought it was better for us to have a small ceremony away from the din, and since his parents were not taking it all very well anyway, I couldn't disagree.

We debated for days about whether or not we should sell the house in the Garden District and build a new house just outside of New Orleans. Finally we both came to the same conclusion: We were happy with our servants and we wouldn't find a more beautiful setting. Rather than move, I embarked on the task of redecorating, tearing the rooms apart, floor to ceiling, and replacing the drapes, wall hangings, flooring, and even some of the fixtures. It was as though I were caught in a maddening frenzy to purify the house and purge it of any and all traces of my stepmother, Daphne.

Of course, I kept all the things that I knew had been precious to Daddy and I didn't change a thing in the room that had once been Uncle Jean's. It remained a shrine to his memory, something I knew Daddy had wanted. I put all of the things that even smelled of Daphne into the attic, burying away clothing, jewelry, pictures, mementoes, in large trunks. Then I gathered Gisselle's things together and gave much of it away to thrift shops and charities.

With the rooms repainted, new drapes on the windows, the changes in the artwork, the house took on my and Beau's identities. Of course, there were still memories lingering like cobwebs, but I believed, as did Beau, that time was the best vacuum cleaner and these troublesome memories would someday become vague and insignificant.

After I had done what I wanted with the house, I directed my energies back into my artistic work. One of the first pictures I drew and then painted was a picture of a young woman sitting in a gazebo with a newborn baby in her arms. The setting placed her in a home and on grounds like ours in the Garden District. When Beau looked at the picture, he told me he thought I had done a self-portrait, and then, a few weeks later, I woke with the symptoms of pregnancy and realized that the inspiration for the picture had come from a deeper realization inside myself.

Beau swore it meant I had some of Grandmere Catherine's traiteur powers.

'Why can't it be so? Your people believe it's inherited power, right?' he said.