Baton Rouge, but it was wrong to wear it now. I took it off and buried it under some of my other precious things in Grandmere Catherine's old oak chest.
I had a bright pink outfit for Pearl. It had a white bow at the collar. After I fed and dressed her, I placed her in the crib, dressed myself, and then sat down and brushed my hair, deciding I would simply tie it with a ribbon and let it lie as softly as possible over my shoulders and down my back. I had let it grow long, and when I brushed it out, it reached my shoulder blades. I put on a little lipstick, found a bonnet that had once belonged to Grandmere Catherine, so I felt I had her with me, and then went out on the gallery with Pearl to wait for Paul.
I heard him honk the car horn before he pulled into my driveway. His car was all washed and shiny and he wore a new blue suit, his tie loose around his collar. His
'Good morning,' he said. We were both so nervous, it was as if we were about to embark on our first date. 'Let's get going. Father Antoine in Breaux Bridge is expecting us.' He opened the car door for us. 'You look very pretty.'
'Thank you, but I don't feel pretty. I feel . . . anxious.'
'You're supposed to,' he said. He took a deep breath, started the engine, and drove out.
A light drizzle began and the windshield wipers went from side to side, resembling two long forefingers wagging warnings and predicting shame. I heard it in the rhythm . . . shame, shame, shame.
'Well, the house is ready for us to move into it. Of course, I just have the most basic furnishing right now. I thought after a day or so, you and I would take a trip to New Orleans.'
'New Orleans! Why?'
'So you could shop in the best places and have more choices. I don't want you to worry about cost either. Your job is to make Cypress Woods into something very special, a house and grounds that even the rich Creoles in New Orleans will envy.
'You should set up your studio as soon as possible,' he continued with a smile. 'As soon as we return from New Orleans, we'll interview prospective nannies to help you with Pearl so you can have the time you need for your work.'
'A nanny? I don't think I'll need one, Paul.'
'Of course you will. The mistress of Cypress Woods will have all sorts of servants. I have already hired our butler. He's a quadroon named James Humble. He's a man about fifty and he's worked in the finest homes.'
'A butler?' It didn't seem that long ago when he and I poled in his pirogue through the swamp and fantasized about the very things we were about to do.
'And our maid. Her name is Holly Mixon. She's half Haitian, half Choctaw Indian, and in her mid-twenties. I got her from an agency, too. I know you are going to enjoy our cook the most,' he said with his impish eyes twinkling.
'And why is that?'
'Her name's Letitia Brown, but she wants to be called Letty. She'll remind you of your Nina Jackson. She won't say her exact age, but I think she's somewhere around sixty. She practices voodoo,' he said, lowering his voice to make it sound ominous.
'You've done all this already?' I asked, amazed. He blushed as if he had been caught naked.
'I've been planning for this day from the moment you returned to the bayou, Ruby. I just knew it would happen.'
'What about your family, Paul? Did you tell your parents this morning?' I asked.
He was quiet for a moment. 'No, not yet,' he said. 'I thought it would be better to tell them afterward. Once it's a fact of life, they'll be quicker to accept it all. It will be all right. It will be fine,' he assured me, but that didn't quiet my thumping heart.
Although the rain stopped completely by the time we arrived in Breaux Bridge, the sky remained dark and ominous. Father Antoine lived in the rectory beside the church with his housekeeper, Miss Mulrooney. He was a man about sixty-five with thin gray hair cut so short, the strands popped up like a paintbrush on the sides, but he had gentle, blue-eyes and the sort of soft smile that would make someone relax and be at ease in his presence. Miss Mulrooney, a tall thin woman with dark gray hair, looked stern and disapproving. I knew why.
Paul had told Father Antoine that Pearl was his child and he wanted to marry me to do the right thing, only he wanted the marriage to be a quiet one, away from the disapproving eyes of his neighbors and his family's friends. Father Antoine was understanding and happy Paul had decided to go through with the marriage and uphold his moral responsibilities.
Our wedding ceremony was as quick as a religious one could be. When it came time for me to recite my vows, I did what might have been a sinful thing: I conjured up Beau, and I told myself I was pledging my heart and my soul to him.
Getting married had all been so much easier and quicker than I had imagined it would be. I didn't feel any different, but I knew from the beaming smile on Paul's face every time he looked at me that everything had changed. For better or for worse, we had gone ahead and bound ourselves and our destinies.
'Well, that's that,' he said. 'How do you feel, Mrs. Tate?'
'Terrified,' I said, and he laughed.
'You have no reason to be terrified anymore. Not as long as I'm around,' he vowed. 'So what, if anything, do you want from the shack?'
'I have Pearl's and my clothes, the painting of Grandmere Catherine, and her rocker,' I said. 'Maybe her old chest and the armoire her father had made for her. She was so proud of that.'
'Fine. I'll send some of my men over with a truck this afternoon and they'll get the furniture. It looks like the rain has stopped for a while. You can follow in your car,' he added nonchalantly.
'My car? What car?'
