I felt my heartbeat slow to a normal pace. I wiped away the streaks on my cheeks, took a deep breath, and stepped off the streetcar.
When I entered the house, I paused and leaned back against the front door, hoping to regain all of my composure; but something inside me, something that felt as dainty as china, was shattered and all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't mend it. A doctor, as young as he was, had tried to deceive me. A member of the profession I idolized had filled me with disappointment and disgust. How could anyone study and work to be a doctor and then do what Jack Weller had done? How could he care about other people, their feelings, their pain, their suffering?
Mommy stepped out of the sitting room and stopped, surprised to see me standing there so quietly. "Pearl? I didn't hear the door open and close.
Where's Aubrey?" she asked gazing around.
"I let myself in quickly, Mommy." I flashed a smile.
"I thought you would be coming home much later," she said stepping toward me.
"No, it didn't work out."
"So you didn't have any supper?" she asked. Her eyes, those Cajun searchlights, as Daddy sometimes called them, examined my face, gathering clues. I had to look away.
"I'm not that hungry yet.I'll eat something later," I said and flashed another quick smile before heading for the stairway.
"Pearl?"
"Yes, Mommy?"
She looked back toward the doorway of the sitting room. I realized Daddy was there, but hadn't heard our conversation; otherwise he would have surely come out to see me.
"Something's wrong. What is it, honey?"
My lips trembled. Tears burned behind my eyelids, then trickled down my cheeks. I shook my head and ran up the stairway. I hurried to my bedroom and fell face down on my bed, gulping back my sobs.
Moments later Mommy was there. She closed the door softly behind her, and I turned around. "What happened?" she asked firmly.
"Oh, Mommy. It wasn't something special."
"He didn't invite you up to his apartment to study as he had said," she remarked, nodding.
"No. We started to study, but he had chosen the topic as part of his elaborate plan to . . ."
"To what? What did he do?"
"I didn't let him do it, Mommy."
"Mon Dieu," she said, pressing her hand to her heart. "If your father finds out, he'll tear that man limb from limb."
"We better not tell him, Mommy. It was nothing. I can take care of it. In fact I did. He won't bother me anymore."
"What did he do?" Mommy asked, coming to sit on my bed.
I sat up and traced the threads in my skirt for a moment. "He said he had a young woman patient who had a problem making love. He called it the honeymoon injury and said he found out her problem was psychological. Then he started asking me personal questions, pretending he was just trying to learn about the problem."
"Go on," Mommy coaxed.
"He said I was frigid because I was too smart and I couldn't enjoy sex. He said he wanted to help me be sure I didn't have the honeymoon injury."
"Mon Dieu. This man should be brought up before the board of inquiry."
I shook my head. "I don't want to have to tell this story to anyone else, Mommy. Please."
"All right, honey. Don't worry. Of course," she said nodding, "you should have nothing more to do with him. If he so much as speaks to you--" "He won't bother me," I said.
"I'm sorry you had such a terrible experience, Pearl."
"It won't be my last time, Mommy," I declared confidently.
Mommy stared at me a moment. "No, it probably won't. You're very wise to know that, Pearl."
"Did such a thing happen to you?"
"Yes. Worse," she added. "My grandfather tried to sell me to a man. He even chained me to a bed so I would be there when the man came."
"How horrible. How could your grandfather do such a thing?"
"He was an alcoholic. He would have sold his soul for money to buy whiskey. Grandmere Catherine believed he did."
"What happened to you?"
"I managed to escape, and that was when I came to New Orleans and met your father. So you see, every dark cloud does have a silver
When I entered the house, I paused and leaned back against the front door, hoping to regain all of my composure; but something inside me, something that felt as dainty as china, was shattered and all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't mend it. A doctor, as young as he was, had tried to deceive me. A member of the profession I idolized had filled me with disappointment and disgust. How could anyone study and work to be a doctor and then do what Jack Weller had done? How could he care about other people, their feelings, their pain, their suffering?
Mommy stepped out of the sitting room and stopped, surprised to see me standing there so quietly. "Pearl? I didn't hear the door open and close.
Where's Aubrey?" she asked gazing around.
"I let myself in quickly, Mommy." I flashed a smile.
"I thought you would be coming home much later," she said stepping toward me.
"No, it didn't work out."
"So you didn't have any supper?" she asked. Her eyes, those Cajun searchlights, as Daddy sometimes called them, examined my face, gathering clues. I had to look away.
"I'm not that hungry yet.I'll eat something later," I said and flashed another quick smile before heading for the stairway.
"Pearl?"
"Yes, Mommy?"
She looked back toward the doorway of the sitting room. I realized Daddy was there, but hadn't heard our conversation; otherwise he would have surely come out to see me.
"Something's wrong. What is it, honey?"
My lips trembled. Tears burned behind my eyelids, then trickled down my cheeks. I shook my head and ran up the stairway. I hurried to my bedroom and fell face down on my bed, gulping back my sobs.
Moments later Mommy was there. She closed the door softly behind her, and I turned around. "What happened?" she asked firmly.
"Oh, Mommy. It wasn't something special."
"He didn't invite you up to his apartment to study as he had said," she remarked, nodding.
"No. We started to study, but he had chosen the topic as part of his elaborate plan to . . ."
"To what? What did he do?"
"I didn't let him do it, Mommy."
"Mon Dieu," she said, pressing her hand to her heart. "If your father finds out, he'll tear that man limb from limb."
"We better not tell him, Mommy. It was nothing. I can take care of it. In fact I did. He won't bother me anymore."
"What did he do?" Mommy asked, coming to sit on my bed.
I sat up and traced the threads in my skirt for a moment. "He said he had a young woman patient who had a problem making love. He called it the honeymoon injury and said he found out her problem was psychological. Then he started asking me personal questions, pretending he was just trying to learn about the problem."
"Go on," Mommy coaxed.
"He said I was frigid because I was too smart and I couldn't enjoy sex. He said he wanted to help me be sure I didn't have the honeymoon injury."
"Mon Dieu. This man should be brought up before the board of inquiry."
I shook my head. "I don't want to have to tell this story to anyone else, Mommy. Please."
"All right, honey. Don't worry. Of course," she said nodding, "you should have nothing more to do with him. If he so much as speaks to you--" "He won't bother me," I said.
"I'm sorry you had such a terrible experience, Pearl."
"It won't be my last time, Mommy," I declared confidently.
Mommy stared at me a moment. "No, it probably won't. You're very wise to know that, Pearl."
"Did such a thing happen to you?"
"Yes. Worse," she added. "My grandfather tried to sell me to a man. He even chained me to a bed so I would be there when the man came."
"How horrible. How could your grandfather do such a thing?"
"He was an alcoholic. He would have sold his soul for money to buy whiskey. Grandmere Catherine believed he did."
"What happened to you?"
"I managed to escape, and that was when I came to New Orleans and met your father. So you see, every dark cloud does have a silver
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