"Were you there the whole time?" he asked.
"Yes, Beau."
"So you heard. I did what I promised. I told the truth and I've sent them back. When Gladys hears what I said, she'll back off and leave us alone," he assured me. "Relax. It's over. It's all over."
I nodded and smiled hopefully. Beau came up the stairs to embrace me. Then the two of us went to look in on Pearl. She was sitting contentedly on the floor of what had once been my room and coloring animals in a coloring book called "A Visit to the Zoo."
"Look, Mommy." She pointed and then growled like a tiger. Mrs. Ferrier laughed.
"She imitates all the animals," she said. "I've never seen such a good little mimic."
Beau tightened his embrace around my shoulders and I leaned against him. It felt good to be surrounded by his strength and feel his firmness. He was my rock now, my pillar of steel, and it deepened my love for him and filled me with confidence. Gradually, as the day wore on, my nervousness-diminished and my stomach stabilized. I realized I was ravishingly hungry when we sat down at dinner.
Later that night in bed, we talked for nearly an hour before closing our eyes.
"I regret not being able to go to Paul's funeral," I said.
"I know, but under the circumstances, it's better that we don't attend. Gladys Tate would only make an unpleasant situation even more miserable. She would create an ugly scene."
"Even so, someday after sufficient time has passed, I would like to visit the grave, Beau."
"Of course."
We talked on, Beau suggesting plans for the future now. "If we want, we can build a new house on a piece of real estate we own just outside of the city."
"Maybe we should," I said.
"Of course, there are things we could do to this house to change it as well. In either case, we'll want new memories," he explained. I couldn't agree more. His descriptions of what was possible for us now filled me with renewed hope and I was able to shut my eyelids and drift off, emotionally exhausted and tired down to my very soul.
I wasn't refreshed when I woke in the morning, but I had regained enough strength to start a new day. I made plans to begin painting again and I thought I would start to buy a new wardrobe, one that fit my personality more. Now that I had driven away all of Gisselle's friends and we were talking about a new beginning, I thought I had the freedom to ease back into my true self and eventually put Gisselle to rest. Those prospects buoyed me.
We had a good breakfast with an animated conversation. Beau had so many plans for business and for our changes, my mind felt stuffed. I could see where we would both become so busy shortly, there wouldn't be much time to dwell on sadness. Grandmère Catherine always said that the only real antidote for grief and sadness was busy hands.
After breakfast Beau went upstairs to the bathroom and I went into the kitchen to talk to Mrs. Swann about dinner. I sat listening to her describe how to prepare chicken Rochambeau.
"You start with preparing the gravy," she began, and went through the ingredients. Just listening to her talk about the recipe made my mouth water. How lucky we were to have a cook with so much experience, I thought.
Mrs. Swann was clanking dishes and pans as she spoke and walked around the kitchen, so I didn't hear the door chimes and was surprised when Aubrey arrived to tell me there were two gentlemen at the door.
"And there's a policeman, too," he added.
"What? Policeman?"
"Yes, madame."
My chest felt hot and heavy as I rose.
"Where's Pearl?" I asked quickly.
"She's in her nursery with Mrs. Ferrier, madame. They just went upstairs."
"And Monsieur Andreas?"
"I think he's still upstairs, madame."
"Please fetch him for me, Aubrey. Quickly," I said.
"Very well, madame," he said, and hurried out. I looked at Mrs. Swann, who stared at me with curious eyes.
"Troubles?" she asked.
"I don't know. I don't know," I mumbled, and let my feet carry me slowly toward the foyer. Beau appeared on the stairway just as I arrived in the foyer and saw the attorney Martin Bell and another man at the door.
"What's this?" Beau cried, hurrying down the remaining steps.
"Monsieur and Madame Andreas?" the taller of the two men in suits inquired. Beau stepped forward rapidly so he would be at the door before me. I saw the nurse who had come the day before standing behind them and my heart sunk.
"Yes?"
"I'm William Rogers, senior partner of Rogers, Bell and Stanley. As you know from Mr. Bell's previous visit, we represent Monsieur and Madame Octavious Tate of Terrebonne Parish. We're here under court order to take the infant Pearl Tate back to her grandparents," he said, and handed Beau a document. "It's been signed by the judge and must be carried out."
"Beau," I said. He waved me off for a moment while he read.
"This is not true," he said, looking up and attempting to hand the document back. "Madame Tate is not the child's Grandmère."
"I'm afraid that's for a court to decide, sir. In the interim this court action," he said, nodding at the document, "will be enforced. She has primary legal rights to custody."
"But we're not the uncle and aunt. We're the mother and father," Beau said.
"The court understands otherwise. The child's parents are both deceased and the grandparents are the primary legal guardians, therefore," Mr. Rogers insisted. "I hope this doesn't become unpleasant," he added. "For the child's sake."
As soon as he said that, the policeman moved up beside him. Beau gazed from one face to the other and then looked at me.
"Ruby . . ."
"No!" I screamed, backing away. "They can't take her. They can't!"
"They have a court order, but it will only be temporary," Beau said. "I promise. I'll call our attorneys right now. We have the best, highest-paid attorneys in New Orleans."
"This court action will be conducted in Terrebonne Parish," William Rogers said. "The child's legal residence. But if you have the highest-paid, best attorneys, they would know that anyway," he added, enjoying his sarcasm.
"Beau," I said, my lips trembling, my face crumpling. He started toward me to embrace me, but I backed farther away. "No," I said, shaking my head. "No."
"Madame, I assure you," Mr. Rogers said, "this court order will be carried out. If you truly have any concern for the child, you'd better adhere to the order smoothly."
"Ruby . . ."
"Beau, you promised! No," I screamed. I struck him in the chest with my small fists, pummeling him. He grabbed my wrists and embraced me tightly.
"We'll get her back. We will," he said.
"I can't," I said, shaking my head. "I can't." My legs gave out and Beau held me up.
"Please," he said, turning to the lawyers, the policeman, and the nurse, "give us ten minutes to prepare the baby."
Mr. Rogers nodded and Beau literally carried me along, up the stairs, whispering assurances in my ear.
"It will be ugly," he said, "if we physically resist. Once we explain who we are, it will all end quickly. You'll see."
"But, Beau, you said this wouldn't happen."
"How did I know she would be this vicious? She must be crazy. What sort of a man is she married to for him to let her do this?"
"A guilty man," I said, and sniffed back my tears. I looked toward Pearl's nursery door. "Oh, Beau, she'll be terrified."
"Only until she gets to Cypress Woods. She knows all the servants and—"
"But they're not taking her to Cypress Woods. They're taking her to the Tates."
Beau nodded, the realizations deepening in him, too. He sighed deeply and shook his head. "I could kill her," he said. "I could put my hands around her neck and choke the life out of her."
"It's already been choked out of her," I said, nodding. "When Paul died. We're dealing with a woman who's lost every feeling but one, the desire for revenge. And my child has to go into that household."
"Do you want me to do this?" he asked, looking at the nursery.
"No. I'll do it with you so we can comfort her as much as possible."
We went in and explained to Mrs. Ferrier that the baby had to go to her grandparents. Beau thought that was best for now. Pearl knew the Tates as her grandparents, so I sucked back my sorrow and hid my tears. Smiling, I told her she had to go see her Grandmère Gladys and Grandpère Octavious.