missing and had sent someone looking for me. I breathed relief when the bus arrived on time. I
got on quickly, but following Lyle's advice, I acted as
calmly and innocently as I could. I took my seat and
sat back with my magazine. Moments later, the bus
continued on its journey to New Orleans. We went
right past the main entrance of the institution. When it
was well behind us, I let out a breath. I was so happy
to be free, I couldn't help but cry. Afraid someone
would notice, I wiped away my tears quickly and
closed my eyes and suddenly thought about Uncle
Jean stuttering, "Jib . . . jib . . ."
The rhythm of the tires on the macadam
highway beat out the same chant: "Jib . . jib . . . jib." What was he trying to tell me? I wondered. When the New Orleans' skyline came into view,
I actually considered not returning to my home and
instead returning to the bayou. I wasn't looking
forward to the greeting I would receive from Daphne,
but then some of Grandmere Catherine's Cajun pride found its way into my backbone and I sat up straight and determined. After all, my father did love me. I was a Dumas and I did belong with him, too. Daphne
had no right to do the things she had done to me. By the time I got on the right city bus and then
changed for the streetcar and arrived at the house, I
was sure Dr. Cheryl had called Daphne and informed
her I was missing. That was confirmed for me the
moment Edgar greeted me at the door and I took one
look at his face.
"Madame Dumas is waiting for you," he said,
shifting his eyes to indicate all was not well. "She's in
the parlor." "Where's my father, Edgar?" I demanded. He shook his head first and then he replied in a
softer voice, "Upstairs, mademoiselle."
"Inform Madame Dumas that I've gone up to
see him first," I ordered. Edgar widened his eyes,
surprised at my insubordinat