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But . . .

Oh, stop the but's and the ifs, I screamed at myself. I threw down my brush and left the studio, where the solitude only encouraged my two selves to argue. I took a walk around the house and grounds and then, impulsively, I went inside, found Pearl and Mrs. Flemming, and told Mrs. Flemming I was taking Pearl for a ride with me.

I put her in her car seat beside me and drove to Grandrnere Catherine's old shack. It was a mostly over-cast day now with the breeze from the southwest threatening to blow in darker rain clouds.

"Do you remember this place, Pearl?" I asked as I took her out and carried her toward the sloping gallery. The weeds were high and there were spiderwebs all over my roadside stand. I could hear field mice in the house scurrying in every direction looking for places to hide when they sensed my approach and heard my footsteps on the gallery planks. The screen door groaned on its rusted hinges as I opened it and entered what now looked like so tiny a room to me. Funny, I thought, when I was growing up here, this was my whole world, and to me it was tremendous. Now I had closets bigger than the living room, and Letty had a pantry bigger than this kitchen.

I walked through the house, hoping that my return would draw Grandmere Catherine's spirit and I would get some advice from her. If only there were a sign, an omen, I thought. But the shack was empty and hollow, my footsteps echoing. It was a grave site from which the bodies had long fled. Even my memories seemed uncomfortable here, for there was no longer any warmth, no music, no aromas of gumbo and jambalaya, no voices, nothing but the sound of the wind slapping loose boards against each other and skimming over the tin roof, making it sound as if a flock of mockingbirds or blue jays were nervously pacing from one end to the other.

I went out back and gazed at the canal.

"Mommy used to play down there, Pearl. Mommy used to walk along that bank and see the animals and the fish, even the alligators and turtles. Sometimes the deer would come right up to the back here to graze and they would lift their heads and look at me with sad eyes."

Pearl just gazed at everything with wonder in her eyes. She appeared to sense my pensive feelings and was quieter than usual. Then, as if she had heard my words, a small doe stepped out from behind some bushes and raised her head to gaze at us. Pearl's eyes widened with interest. The beautiful deer was as still as a statue, only its long ears flicking occasionally. Even when Pearl cried out, it only scrutinized us with more curiosity, no fear. After a few more moments, just as casually as it had appeared, it turned and disappeared like an apparition.

This was a world that did have pure and innocent things in it, and if they were left alone, they would remain that way, I thought; but they were rarely left alone. I walked about the shack for a while but left concluding that there was only one place to look for an answer to my dilemma, and that place was in my own heart.

A few days later at dinner Paul told me of his need to go to Dallas, Texas.

"I'll have to be away three days," he said. "I'd like Pearl and you to come along. You can bring Mrs. Flemming, too, of course. Unless you have other plans, that is," he said.

"Well, I was planning on bringing the Confederate series to New Orleans. I've already spoken to Dominique about it and my other works, and he thinks it's time to arrange for an art show. He wants to invite some of his best customers, do lots of advertising."

"That's wonderful, Ruby."

"I don't think I'm ready for such exposure, but. . ."

"You'll never think you're ready, but if Dominique does, then why not give it a shot?"

I nodded and played with my napkin for a moment. "So what I think I'll do is go into New Orleans while you're in Dallas," I said. "I'll just stay a night."

"Will you stay with Gisselle?" he asked.

"I'd rather not," I said. "I'll probably stay at the Fairmont."

"Good."

We gazed at each other. Did Paul know what was really in my heart? It had always been hard to hide my true feelings and thoughts from him. If he knew, he chose not to speak. He smiled and turned to Pearl. I hated doing something I considered deceitful, but my softer voice had won out when it said I was doing something to prevent Paul from suffering any pain.

He had to leave early the day he went to Dallas. After I rose, I packed my things and went down to breakfast. James helped me pack my paintings in the trunk of the car carefully and then Mrs. Flemming brought Pearl out to wave as I drove off.

I gazed in my rearview mirror and saw them standing there. . . Mrs. Flemming and Beau's and my beautiful daughter. Surely a love that produced her couldn't be evil, I thought, and that thought propelled me forward. Moments after I pulled onto the main highway and accelerated, I took the ribbon out of my hair and let the wind lift the strands, making me feel free and alive and full of excitement.

"I'm coming, Beau," I whispered. "Everything else be damned. I'm coming."

It was a delightful day in New Orleans. The clouds and rain that had swept in the night before were long gone and replaced with a vast, soft blue sky spotted with small, fluffy milk white clouds. As soon as I pulled up in front of the hotel and the doorman shot out to greet me, I felt the increased tempo I always sensed in the inner city. That, along with my heightened nervousness, made me sensitive to every sound and every new scent. When I entered the hotel, I thought everyone was looking at me and that my heels clicked too hard on the marble floors. I had everything brought up to my room and then I sat at the vanity table and brushed out my hair. I freshened my lipstick and then decided to brush my teeth.

I had to laugh at myself. I was behaving like a teenager about to go on her first date, but the rhythm of my heartbeat never slowed and the flush that had entered my cheeks planted itself there firmly. I saw the frantic and frightened look in my eyes and wondered if anyone else who gazed at me could tell that I was a woman tottering on an emotional tightrope, a married woman about to meet her former lover. I kept checking the clock. I changed three times before deciding that the outfit I had first worn was the best. Finally it was time to go. My fingers trembled around the doorknob. I took a deep breath and pulled it open and then walked quickly to the elevator.

I had decided I would walk all the way to our rendezvous. Canal Street was as busy and as crowded as ever, but losing myself in the clumps of people who crossed it and walked quickly toward the French Quarter helped. It was as if they kept me moving, kept me standing. I turned down Burborn Street and walked toward Dumaine.

The barkers were already out in full force, crying the bargains, urging the tourists to come into their restaurants or bars. I caught whiffs of the crawfish etoufee, the freshly baked bread, and the strong coffee. Vendors had their fruits and vegetables for sale on the sidewalks. At a corner where the restaurant was wide open to the street, I smelled the sauteed shrimp and my stomach churned. I had not eaten much of a breakfast and had been too nervous to have any lunch. From one cafe came the sounds of a jazz band, and when I looked through the open doorway of another, I saw four men dressed in straw hats playing a guitar, a mandolin, a fiddle, and an accordion.

There was always excitement in the air here. It was as if one great and perpetual party were being held. People had a sen

se of abandon. They would eat too much, drink too much, dance and sing too long and too late. It was as if I had crossed over from the world of responsibility and obligations into a world without restraints or laws and rules. Anything went as long as it was pleasing. No wonder Beau had chosen the French Quarter, I thought.

Finally I came to the address he had written on the little note. The apartment was in a two-story stucco building with a flagstone courtyard. All the apartments had small, scrolled iron balconies looking down on the street. I smelled the aroma of the spearmint growing against the walls. It was a quiet building, just far enough off the other streets and yet steps away when the inhabitants wanted to indulge in the music and the food. I hesitated.