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When we arrived at the house, she was too

depressed even to visit with Paul. She let Bruce put

her into the chair and take her in without saying

another word to me or to Daphne. Daphne gazed back

at me from the doorway when Paul drove in behind

us.

"Make this short," she ordered. "I'm not fond of

all sorts of Cajuns coming to the house." She turned

her back on me and went inside before I could

respond.

I went to Paul as soon as he emerged from his

vehicle and threw myself into his comforting arms.

Suddenly, all the sorrow and misery I had been containing within the confines of my battered heart broke free. I sobbed freely, my shoulders shaking, my face buried in his shoulder. He stroked my hair and kissed my forehead and whispered words of consolation. Finally I caught my breath and pulled back. He had a handkerchief ready and waiting to

wipe my cheeks, and he let me blow my nose. "I'm sorry," I said. "I couldn't help it, but I

haven't really been able to cry for Daddy since I came

home from school. Daphne's made things so hard for

all of us. Poor Paul," I said, smiling through my tearsoaked eyes. "You have to be the one to endure my

flood of tears."

"No. I'm glad I was here to bring you any

comfort. It must have been horrible. I remember your

father well. He

was so young and vibrant when I last

saw him, and he was very kind to me, a real Creole

gentleman. He was a man with class. I understood

why our mother would have fallen in love with him so

deeply."

"Yes. So did I." I took his hand and smiled. "Oh

Paul, it's so good to see you." I looked at the front

door and then turned back to him. "My stepmother

won't let me have visitors in the house," I said,