continued to envision my dream wedding. The limousine would be waiting outside, its engine idling like a horse anxious to get galloping. The door would be flung open. Everyone would start cheering and clapping as I made my way down the gallery steps and into the car. And then the whole entourage of friends and relatives would follow behind as I was brought to the steps of the church where inside, my wonderful, loving husband-to-be stood shifting his weight from one leg to the other nervously, flashing handsome smiles at his own parents and relatives but watching that doorway for signs of my arrival.
And then the music would begin and everyone would sit solemnly, but be eager to set eyes on me starting down the aisle toward the altar where the holy sacrament waited. My feet would never touch the ground. I would walk on a shelf of air and glide slowly toward the vows.
When I closed my eyes and thought of all this, my pictures were as vivid as my paintings, but I surprised myself when I saw myself in the wedding sequence I had conjured, and when I lifted my eyes, I saw not Paul waiting, but Beau. . . my precious love. .. Beau, at last.
I sighed deeply. It was not Beau who would be coming to fetch me shortly, I reminded myself. Another shivering thought came: I was probably not even in his thoughts this day, the day I would take the vows that would tear me away from him forever. Pearl's wail reminded me, however, that I was not doing this for myself. I was doing it for her and for the promising future and the security it would bring to her.
I chose a simple light pink cotton dress with a square collar and a skirt that fell an inch or so above my ankles. I still wore the locket Beau had given me more than a year ago just before I had left for the Greenwood School in Baton Rouge, but it was wrong to wear it now. I took it off and buried it under some of my other precious things in Grandmere Catherine's old oak chest.
I had a bright pink outfit for Pearl. It had a white bow at the collar. After I fed and dressed her, I placed her in the crib, dressed myself, and then sat down and brushed my hair, deciding I would simply tie it with a ribbon and let it lie as softly as possible over my shoulders and down my back. I had let it grow long, and when I brushed it out, it reached my shoulder blades. I put on a little lipstick, found a bonnet that had once belonged to Grandmere Catherine, so I felt I had her with me, and then went out on the gallery with Pearl to wait for Paul.
I heard him honk the car horn before he pulled into my driveway. His car was all washed and shiny and he wore a new blue suit, his tie loose around his collar. His chatlin hair glittered when he stepped out of the car, the strands still wet from brushing.
"Good morning," he said. We were both so nervous, it was as if we were about to embark on our first date. "Let's get going. Father Antoine in Breaux Bridge is expecting us." He opened the car door for us. "You look very pretty."
"Thank you, but I don't feel pretty. I feel. . . anxious."
"You're supposed to," he said. He took a deep breath, started the engine, and drove out.
A light drizzle began and the windshield wipers went from side to side, resembling two long
forefingers wagging warnings and predicting shame. I heard it in the rhythm . . . shame, shame, shame.
"Well, the house is ready for us to move into it. Of course, I just have the most basic furnishing right now. I thought after a day or so, you and I would take a trip to New Orleans."
"New Orleans! Why?"
"So you could shop in the best places and have more choices. I don't want you to worry about cost either. Your job is to make Cypress Woods into something very special, a house and grounds that even the rich Creoles in New Orleans will envy.
"You should set up your studio as soon as possible," he continued with a smile. "As soon as we return from New Orleans, we'll interview prospective nannies to help you with Pearl so you can have the time you
And then the music would begin and everyone would sit solemnly, but be eager to set eyes on me starting down the aisle toward the altar where the holy sacrament waited. My feet would never touch the ground. I would walk on a shelf of air and glide slowly toward the vows.
When I closed my eyes and thought of all this, my pictures were as vivid as my paintings, but I surprised myself when I saw myself in the wedding sequence I had conjured, and when I lifted my eyes, I saw not Paul waiting, but Beau. . . my precious love. .. Beau, at last.
I sighed deeply. It was not Beau who would be coming to fetch me shortly, I reminded myself. Another shivering thought came: I was probably not even in his thoughts this day, the day I would take the vows that would tear me away from him forever. Pearl's wail reminded me, however, that I was not doing this for myself. I was doing it for her and for the promising future and the security it would bring to her.
I chose a simple light pink cotton dress with a square collar and a skirt that fell an inch or so above my ankles. I still wore the locket Beau had given me more than a year ago just before I had left for the Greenwood School in Baton Rouge, but it was wrong to wear it now. I took it off and buried it under some of my other precious things in Grandmere Catherine's old oak chest.
I had a bright pink outfit for Pearl. It had a white bow at the collar. After I fed and dressed her, I placed her in the crib, dressed myself, and then sat down and brushed my hair, deciding I would simply tie it with a ribbon and let it lie as softly as possible over my shoulders and down my back. I had let it grow long, and when I brushed it out, it reached my shoulder blades. I put on a little lipstick, found a bonnet that had once belonged to Grandmere Catherine, so I felt I had her with me, and then went out on the gallery with Pearl to wait for Paul.
I heard him honk the car horn before he pulled into my driveway. His car was all washed and shiny and he wore a new blue suit, his tie loose around his collar. His chatlin hair glittered when he stepped out of the car, the strands still wet from brushing.
"Good morning," he said. We were both so nervous, it was as if we were about to embark on our first date. "Let's get going. Father Antoine in Breaux Bridge is expecting us." He opened the car door for us. "You look very pretty."
"Thank you, but I don't feel pretty. I feel. . . anxious."
"You're supposed to," he said. He took a deep breath, started the engine, and drove out.
A light drizzle began and the windshield wipers went from side to side, resembling two long
forefingers wagging warnings and predicting shame. I heard it in the rhythm . . . shame, shame, shame.
"Well, the house is ready for us to move into it. Of course, I just have the most basic furnishing right now. I thought after a day or so, you and I would take a trip to New Orleans."
"New Orleans! Why?"
"So you could shop in the best places and have more choices. I don't want you to worry about cost either. Your job is to make Cypress Woods into something very special, a house and grounds that even the rich Creoles in New Orleans will envy.
"You should set up your studio as soon as possible," he continued with a smile. "As soon as we return from New Orleans, we'll interview prospective nannies to help you with Pearl so you can have the time you
Similar Books
