Page 130

I looked at Gisselle and then at Daphne. "No," I said. This was a house and a family built on lies. My addition wouldn't even be noticed, and I was convinced Daphne and Gisselle deserved one another's deceit and conniving.

"What a surprise. And to keep it from everyone, even your twin sister, just so you could do it first for us. This is very nice of you, Gisselle."

"I promise, Mother," Gisselle pledged, "that I will work hard at regaining my ability to walk and be right behind you when you go down the aisle to marry Bruce."

"That would be . . . just fantastic." She looked at Bruce. "Think of how the wedding guests will react. Why, it's as if . . . as if my new marriage restored the health of this family."

"So you see, Mother," Gisselle said, "I can't go back to Greenwood now. I need daily rehabilitation work and Nina's good cooking instead of that dormitory slop. Just get me a tutor and let me stay here."

Daphne pondered for a moment. "Let me think about it," she said.

Gisselle beamed. "Thank you, Mother."

"Now then, I'm really hungry this morning. This has been a far better Christmas than I had anticipated," Daphne said, rising. "Santa?" She held out her arm and Bruce rushed to take it. I watched them leave and then turned to Gisselle. She was beaming from ear to ear.

"She'll let us stay home now. You'll see."

"Maybe she'll let you stay home, but not me," I said. "I don't have a handicap to miraculously overcome."

Gisselle shrugged. "Anyway, thanks for keeping your mouth shut and going along."

"I didn't go along. I just stood to the side and watched you two fill each other with lies," I said.

"Whatever. Here," she said, thrusting Paul's gift at me. "You probably have so many secret thoughts, you can fill two of these in a day."

I took the diary and started to follow as she wheeled herself out, but at the doorway, I paused to look back at the tree and the obese pile of open gifts. How I longed for a real Christmas morning again, when the truly important gift was the gift of love.

Beau arrived shortly after his own family had exchanged gifts, and I gave him my present, which was a gold identification bracelet I had bought him the day after Gisselle and I arrived home. Underneath I had the jeweler inscribe, "With all my love, always, Ruby."

"I have three of these that lay in my drawer at home," he said, putting it on, "but none of them had any meaning until now." He kissed me quickly on my lips before anyone came into the parlor.

"Now I have a favor to ask of you," I said. "And you can't laugh."

"What could that be?" He smiled widely in anticipation.

"Nina's going to burn some brimstone for us, to bless our love and keep the evil spirits from

destroying it."

"What?"

"Come on," I said, taking his hand. "It doesn't hurt to be safe."

He laughed as we hurried down the corridor to Nina's room. I knocked on the door and entered when she said for us to come in. Beau nearly gasped at the sight of the small room cluttered with voodoo paraphernalia: dolls and bones, chunks of what

looked like black cat fur, strands of hair tied with leather string, twisted roots, and strips of snakeskin. The shelves were crowded with small bottles of multicolored powders, stacks of yellow, blue, green, and brown candles, jars of snake heads, and a picture of the woman I knew to be Marie Laveau sitting on what looked like a throne. Nina often burned white candles around it at night when she chanted her prayers.

"Who's that?" Beau asked.

"You be New Orleans boy and you don't know that be Marie Laveau, Voodoo Queen?"

"Oh yes. I've heard of her." He glanced at me and bit down on his lower lip.

Nina went to her shelves to fetch a small ceramic jar. She and I had performed a similar ceremony when I had first arrived from the bayou.

"You both hold it," she commanded. She lit a white candle and mumbled a prayer. Then she brought the candle to the ceramic jar and dipped the flame toward the contents so the brimstone would burn, but it didn't catch on. She glanced at me and looked worried and then tried again, holding the candle longer until a small stream of smoke twisted its way up. Beau grimaced because the stench was unpleasant, but I had been expecting it and held my breath.

"Both close your eyes and lean over so the smoke touches your faces," she prescribed. We did so. We heard her mumble something.