"Paul!" Beau followed.
For a moment I couldn't form his name on my lips. Then I cried out, too. "Paul, please, if you're here, answer us."
Nothing but the sound of the swamp animals could be heard. Over to the right a deer rustled through the bushes. Terror jumped into my heart, flooded my eyes.
"Just keep rowing around the pond, James," I said, and sat back, but held my torch high to the right while Beau held his to the left. The water lapped against the dinghy. There was barely a breeze and mosquitoes began to sense our presence with delight. Suddenly the round bottom of a pirogue became visible. At first it looked like an alligator, but as we drew closer, it became clear that it was Paul's canoe. No one spoke. James poked it with his oar.
"It's his, all right," he said. "Paul!"
"Over there. Is that something?" Beau asked, leaning with his torch. James turned the dinghy in the direction Beau was pointing, and I brought my torchlight to bear as well. Slumped over a large rock, his chatlin hair matted and muddied by the water, Paul lay facedown. He looked like he had dragged himself up and collapsed. James turned the dinghy so he and Beau could stand up and reach Paul's body. I started to step toward him, too, when Beau turned sharply.
"Don't!" be ordered. He seized me at the elbows to hold me back and get me to sit. "It's not pretty and he's gone," he said.
I slapped my palms over my face and screamed. My shrill cry pierced the darkest corners and shadows in the swamp, sending birds flapping, animals scurrying, and fish diving. It echoed over the water and was finally stopped by the wall of dark silence that waits out there for all of us.
The doctor said Paul's lungs were so full of water, he had no idea how Paul had managed to drag himself up the rock a few inches, much less enough to get his entire body up. There he took his last gasps and passed away. Miraculously, no alligator got to him, but the death by drowning had distorted him and Beau was right to keep me from looking.
Cypress Woods was already a house in mourning, so it just continued under the dark cloud of more grief. Servants who had cried so hard over what they thought was my death now had to find another well of tears from which to draw. Paul's sisters, especially Toby, had anticipated bad news, but were devastated nevertheless and retreated with James into the privacy of the study, while Octavious went upstairs to be with Gladys.
I felt so weak all over, my body so light, I thought I would get caught up in the wind and be carried into the night. Beau clutched my hand and put his arm around my shoulders. I leaned against him and watched them bring Paul's body up from the dock. Beau wanted us to return immediately to New Orleans. He was insistent and I had no strength to resist, no words to offer in argument. I let him lead me to our car and slumped down in the seat as he drove us away. I had cried dry that bottomless pit of tears.
When I closed my eyes, I saw Paul as a young boy riding his motor scooter up to Grandmere Catherine's front gallery. I saw the brightness in his eyes when he set them on me. Both our voices were full of excitement then. The world seemed so innocent and precious. Every color, every shape, every scent, was richer. When we were together, exploring our young feelings, we were like the first couple on earth discovering things we couldn't imagine others discovering before us. No one ever adequately explains the wonder born in your heart when you undress your new feelings in front of someone who is undressing his, too. That trust, that childhood faith, is so pure and good, you can't imagine any betrayals. Surely all the trouble and misery you know and hear about in the world around you will be walled out by these powerful new feelings woven into an
impenetrable fabric. You can make promises, expose your dreams, and dream new things together. Nothing seems impossible and the last thing you can imagine is that some malicious Fate has been toying with you, leading you down a highway that will bring you to these tragic, dark moments.
I wanted to be angry and bitter and blame someone or something else, but in the end I could think of no one to blame but myself. The weight of that guilt was so heavy, I couldn't bear it. I was crushed, defeated, and so tired, I didn't open my eyes again until Beau said we were home. I let him help me out of the car, but my legs wouldn't support me. He carried me into the house and up the stairway and lowered me to our bed, where I curled up, embraced myself, and fell unconscious.
When I woke up, Beau was already dressed. I turned, but the ache in my bones was so deep, I could barely stretch out my legs and lift myself. My head felt like it had turned to stone.
"I'm so tired," I said. "So weak."
"Stay in bed today," he advised. "I'll have Sally bring your breakfast up to the suite. I have some things I must tend to at the office and then I'll come home to be with you."
"Beau," I moaned. "It is my fault. Gladys Tate is right to hate me."
"Of course it isn't your fault. You didn't break any promises, and anything he did, he did willingly, knowing what the consequences might be. If it's anyone's fault, it's mine. I shouldn't have let him become so involved. I should have forced you to make a clean, clear break with him so he would have realized he should go on with his life and not mourn over things that couldn't be, that weren't supposed to be.
"But, Ruby," Beau said, coming to my side and taking my hand in his, "we are meant to be. No two people could love each other as much as we do and not be meant to be. That is the faith you must have, the faith you must cling to when you mourn Paul. If we fail each other now, then everything he did was even more in vain.
"Somewhere, deep inside himself, he must have also realized you belonged with me. Maybe he couldn't face that in the end and maybe it
overwhelmed him, but he did realize it as a greater truth and a greater reality.
"We must hold on to what we now have. I love you," he said, and kissed me softly on the lips. He lowered his head to my bosom and I held him against me for a long moment before he rose, took a deep breath, and smiled. "I'll send Sally around and then tell Mrs. Ferrier to bring Pearl in later, okay?"
"Yes, Beau. Whatever you say. I can't think for myself anymore."
"That's all right. Ill think for the two of us." He threw me a kiss and left.
I gazed out the window. The sky was overcast, but the clouds looked light and thin. There would be hazy sunshine and the day would be hot and muggy. After breakfast, I would take a bath and get back on my feet. The prospect of attending Paul's funeral seemed over-whelming to me now. I couldn't imagine mustering the strength, but as it turned out, that was to be the least of my problems.
Late in the morning, after I had had some breakfast and taken my bath, I brushed out my hair and dressed myself. Mrs. Ferrier brought Pearl in to watch and I let her play with my brushes and combs. She sat beside me, mimicking my every move. Her hair had grown down to her shoulders and it was turning a brighter, richer golden shade every day. Her blue eyes were full of curiosity. As soon as she learned what one thing was, she was asking about another, touching something else. Her bountiful energy and excitement brought some joy and relief to my aching heart. How lucky I was to have her, I thought. I was determined to devote myself to her, to make certain that her life was smoother, happier, and fuller than mine. I would protect her, advise her, guide her, so she would avoid the pitfalls and treacherous turns I had taken. It was in our children, I realized, that our hope and purpose lay. They were the promise and the only real antidote for grief.
Beau called to say he would be home shortly. Mrs. Ferrier took Pearl out to play in the garden, and I decided to go down so that Beau and I could have lunch on the patio when he returned. I had just rounded the base of the stairway when the phones rang. Aubrey announced it was Toby Tate and I hurried to a receiver.
"Toby," I cried. "I'm sorry we left so quickly, but
--"