diamonds raining down over us. The circular stairway was twice as wide and as elaborate as the one in the house of Dumas.
'The kitchen is at the rear of the house,' Paul said. 'I have equipped it with all the most modern appliances. Any cook would be in heaven working back there. Maybe you can find where your Nina Jackson went and convince her to come live here,' he added as a bonus. He knew how fond of Nina, my father's cook, I had been. She practiced voodoo and had taken an affection to me from the first day I had arrived in New Orleans. After she was convinced I wasn't some sort of zombie made to look like Gisselle, that is.
'I don't think anything would tempt Nina from New Orleans,' I said.
'Her loss,' Paul replied quickly. He was so sensitive about the rich Creoles, interpreting any comparisons as a criticism of our Cajun world.
'I mean she is too attached to her voodoo world, Paul,' I explained. He nodded.
'Let me show you the upstairs.'
We went up the stairway to find four spacious bed-rooms, each with a dressing room and walk-in closets. There were two master bedrooms, something Paul had definitely designed with his proposal of marriage in mind. Each looked out over the swamps. However, there was an adjoining door.
'Well?' He waited anxiously, his eyes searching my face.
'It is a magnificent house, Paul.'
'I have saved the best for last,' he replied with that impish twinkle in his eyes. 'Follow me,' he said, taking us to a door that opened to an outside stairway. It was at the rear of the mansion, so I hadn't seen it when we first approached.
The stairway led us up to an enormous attic with hand-cut cypress structural beams. There were large windows looking out over the fields and canals, but none on the side that faced the oil rigs. The great skylights provided illumination and made it bright and airy.
'Do you know what this is?' he asked, and flashed me a brief, amused smile. 'This,' he said, holding out his arms, 'will be your studio.'
I widened my eyes, overwhelmed with the possibilities.
'As you can see, I've provided the best views. Look, Ruby,' he said, going to the window, 'look at what you could paint. Look at the world we love, our world, a world that could surely inspire you to return to your wonderful artistic talents and create masterpieces that your rich Creole friends would beat each other down to possess.'
He stood by the window and held Pearl. She was intrigued and fascinated by the view. Below us, the construction workers had started their cleanup. Their voices and laughter were carried up to us in the wind. In the distance the canals that wove their way through the swamps toward Houma and my shack home looked unreal, toylike. I could see the birds flitting from tree to tree, and off to the right, an oyster fisherman poling his way home from a day's harvesting. There was a store of pictures and ideas for any artist to choose and embellish with his or her imagination.
'Can't you be happy here, Ruby?' Paul asked, pleading with his eyes.
'Who couldn't be happy here, Paul? It's beyond words. But you know what has made me hesitate,' I said softly.
'And you know that I have thought it all out carefully and proposed a way for us to be together and not be sinners. Oh, Ruby, it's not our fault that our parents created us with this stain on our heads. All I want is to provide for you and Pearl and make you happy and safe forever.'
'But what about . . . Paul, there is a side of life that you would be eliminating for yourself,' I reminded him. 'You're a man, a handsome, virile young man.'
'I'm willing to do that,' he said quickly.
I looked down. I had to confess my true feelings.
'I don't know if I am willing to do that, Paul. You know that I have been in love, passionately in love, and you know I have tasted the ecstasy that comes in touching someone you love and someone who loves you.'
'I know,' he said sadly. 'But I don't ask you to give up that ecstasy.'
I looked up sharply. 'What do you mean?'
'Let us make a pact that if either one of us finds someone with whom we can find that ecstasy, the other won't stand in his or her way, even if it means . . . parting.
'Meanwhile, Ruby, put your passion back into your art. I will put mine in my work and my ambition for all of us. Let me give you what would otherwise be the most perfect world, a world in which you know you will have love and in which Pearl will have security and comfort and not suffer the miseries we have seen so many suffer in so-called normal families,' he begged.
Pearl looked at me as if she were joining his plea, her sapphire eyes soft and quiet.
'Paul, I just don't know.'
'We can hold each other. We can be warm to each other. We can look after each other . . . forever. You've been through more tragedy and misery than someone your age should have experienced. You're far older than your years because of it. Let wisdom replace passion. Let faithfulness, devotion, and pure goodness be the foundation of our lives. Together, we'll create our own special monastery.'
I gazed into his eyes and felt the sincerity. It was all so overpowering: his devotion, this wonderful house, the promise of a secure, happy life after having lived through the misery he mentioned.
'What about your parents, Paul?' I asked, feeling myself slipping toward a yes.
'What about them?' he said sharply. 'They brought me up in deception. My father will accept what I decide, and if he doesn't . . . what of it? I have my own fortune now,' he added, his eyes narrowing and darkening.
I shook my head with confusion. I remembered Grandmere Catherine's dour warning about separating a Cajun
