snapped.
'I'm not. We don't sleep together. We're married, but we're not husband and wife that way. We both agreed.'
'Why?' she said, grimacing. 'Why get married then?'
'Paul's always loved me, and before we knew what our true relationship is, I was very fond of him. He loves Pearl as much as he would had she been his own daughter. We have a very special relationship now,' I said.
'It's special, all right. And boring. You have a lover, then, I assume, some dashing, tall, dark Cajun swamp man who sneaks up to your room at night?'
'No, of course not.'
'Of course not, not you, not Miss Goody Two-Shoes.' She sat back, her arm dangling over the arm of the chair. 'I wrote to Beau and told him of your wedding and how rich you are,' she said.
'I bet you couldn't wait.'
'Well, you ran away. You should have had the abortion and stayed in New Orleans. Even with all this, you're still living in the swamps.'
'The swamps are beautiful. Nature can't be ugly,' I said.
She took a long sip of her drink. 'Did I tell you about Uncle Jean?' she suddenly asked.
'Uncle Jean? No. What about him?'
'You don't know anything?'
'What is it, Gisselle?'
'He killed himself,' she said nonchalantly.
'What?' I gasped. I felt the blood drain from my face and my feet become nailed to the patio.
'One day he stole one of those knives they use to cut clay in their recreation room and cut his wrists. He bled to death before anyone discovered what he had done. Daphne put on a big show, of course, threatening to sue the institution. For all I know, she got some sort of settlement. I wouldn't put it past her. If there's a way to make money in something, she'll find it.'
'Uncle Jean . . . killed himself'? When?'
'Months ago,' she said, shrugging.
I sat back, stunned. The last time I had seen him was when I had gone to him with Beau to tell him about Daddy's death.
'Why didn't anyone write to tell me? Why didn't you?'
'Daphne said you relinquished your relationship to the family when you ran off,' she replied. 'And you know how I hate writing letters, especially bad news. Unless it's other people's bad news,' she added with a slight laugh.
'Poor Uncle Jean. I should never have told him Daddy died. I should have left him thinking he was just not visiting.'
'Maybe it is your fault,' Gisselle said, enjoying my misery. Then she shrugged again and sipped her drink. 'Or maybe you should be congratulated. After all, he's better off.'
'How can you say such a terrible thing? No one's better off dead, not even Uncle Jean,' I cried back in a choked voice.
'All I know is, I'd rather be dead than live forever in that stuffy institution,' she proclaimed.
My eyes filled with tears as I thought about Uncle Jean lost and alone.
'And who do we have here?' we heard, and turned to see Paul come out of the house.
'Well, if it isn't my wealthy brother, or is it brother-in-law?' Gisselle quipped.
Paul turned crimson and shifted his eyes to me. 'What's wrong, Ruby?' he asked instantly.
'I just learned that my uncle Jean committed suicide in the institution.'
'Oh, I'm sorry.'
'Don't I get a kiss hello?' Gisselle asked.
'Sure.' He leaned over to kiss her on the cheek, only she turned her face quickly so his lips met hers. Surprised, he stood back. Gisselle laughed.
'When did this suicide happen?' Paul asked.
'Forget about that. I don't want to dwell on bad news,' Gisselle said, and twisted her shoulder. 'Ruby was just explaining your special marriage arrangement,' she teased. Her licentious smile made both Paul and me feel guilty.
'Gisselle, stop it.'
'Oh, don't be so sensitive. Besides, what do I care what you two do?' She looked out toward the fields. 'Did you see two young, wealthy Creoles wandering about your oil wells?'
'Who?'
'Gisselle's boyfriends,' I said dryly.
'Oh. No.'
