"And so your son confided in you?"

"Oh, absolutely. We had no secrets from each other, ever," she said.

"That's a lie," I whispered. Monsieur Polk raised his eyebrows. Beau turned to me. His eyes told me that he wanted me to tell Monsieur Polk the truth. I had hoped I wouldn't have to do it. It seemed like such a betrayal of Paul.

"Did he ever discuss with you this elaborate plan to switch his wife with Monsieur Andreas's wife after she was stricken with encephalitis?"

"No. Paul loved Ruby dearly and he was a very proud young man, as well as religious. He wouldn't give away the woman he loved just so another man could be happy living in sin," she said disdainfully. "He married Ruby in church after he realized it was the proper thing to do. I remember when he told me he was going to do it. I was unhappy he had fathered a child out of wedlock, of course, but I was happy he wanted to do what was morally right."

"She wasn't happy," I murmured. "She made him miserable. She—"

"Shh," Monsieur Polk said. He looked like he was as fascinated as everyone else with her story and didn't want to miss a detail.

"And in fact, after they were married, you and your husband and your daughters accepted Ruby and Pearl as your family, correct?"

"Yes. We had family dinners. I even helped her design and decorate her home. I would do anything to keep my son happy and close to me," she said. "What he wanted for himself, I wanted for him. And he doted on the child. Oh, how he worshiped our precious granddaughter. She has his face, his eyes, his hair. To see them walking together in the garden or to see him take her for a pirogue ride in the canals filled my heart with joy."

"So there is no doubt in your mind that Pearl is his child?"

"None whatsoever."

"And he never told you anything to the contrary?"

"No. Why would he marry a woman with someone else's child?" she asked.

Heads bobbed in agreement.

"During Ruby Tate's illness, you had many opportunities to visit their home?"

"Yes."

"And did he ever give you an indication he was worrying about his wife's sister and not his wife?" Monsieur Williams pursued.

"No. On the contrary, and as anyone here who had seen my son during this trying period can testify, he mourned so hard, he became a shell of himself. He neglected his work and began drinking. He was in a constant depression. It broke my heart."

"Why didn't he just put his wife into a hospital?"

"He couldn't bear being away from her. He was at her side constantly," Madame Tate said. "Hardly how he would be were it not Ruby," she added, gazing scornfully at me.

"Why did you ask the court to grant an order for you to retrieve your granddaughter?"

"These people," Gladys Tate said, spitting her words toward us, "refused to give Pearl back to me. They turned my attorney and a nurse away from the door. And all this," she moaned, "while I was mourning the horrible death of my son, my little boy . . ."

She burst into tears. Monsieur Williams stepped for-ward quickly with his handkerchief.

"I'm sorry," she wailed.

"That's all right. Take your time, madame."

Gladys wiped her cheeks and then sniffled and sucked in her breath.

"Are you all right, Madame Tate?" Judge Barrow asked.

"Yes," she said in a small voice. Judge Barrow nodded to Monsieur Williams, who stepped forward to continue.

"Recently Monsieur and Madame Andreas came to your home, did they not?" he asked.

She glared at us. "Yes, they did."

"And what did they want?"

"They wanted to make a deal," she said. "They offered fifty percent of my son's estate if I didn't force this court hearing and just gave them Pearl."

"What?" Beau stammered.

"She's lying!" I cried.

The judge rapped his gavel. "I warned you. No outbursts," he reprimanded.

"But . . ."

"Be still," Monsieur Polk ordered.

I cowered back, shrinking in my chair with rage burning my cheeks. Was there no limit to how far she would go to satisfy her thirst for vengeance?

"What happened then, madame?" Monsieur Williams asked.

"1 refused, of course, and they threatened to take me to court, which they have done."

"No further questions, Your Honor," Monsieur Williams said.

The judge looked at Monsieur Polk with hard eyes. "Do you have any questions for this witness?"

"No, Your Honor."

"What? Make her take back these lies," I urged. "No. It's better to get rid of her. She has everyone's sympathy. Even the judge's," Monsieur Polk advised. Monsieur Williams helped Madame Tate out of the seat and escorted her back to her chair. Some people in the audience were openly crying for her.

"You won't get the child back today, if you ever do," Monsieur Polk muttered, half under his breath.

"Oh, Beau," I wailed. "She's winning. She'll be a terrible grandmother. She doesn't love Pearl. She knows Pearl's not Paul's child."

"Monsieur Williams?" the judge said.

"No further witnesses or exhibits, Your Honor," he said confidently.

Monsieur Polk sat back, his hands on his stomach, his face dour. I looked across the courtroom at Gladys, who was preparing to leave in victory. Octavious still had his eyes fixed on the table.

"Call one more witness, Monsieur Polk," I said in desperation.

"What's that?"

Beau took my hand. We gazed into each other's eyes and he nodded. I turned back to our attorney.

"Call one more witness. I'll tell you just what to ask," I said. "Call Octavious Tate to the stand."

"Do it!" Beau ordered firmly.

Monsieur Polk rose slowly from his seat, unsure, tentative, and reluctant.

"Monsieur Polk?" the judge said.

"We have one more witness, Your Honor," he said. The judge looked displeased. "Very well," he said.

"Let's conclude this matter. Call your final witness," he added, emphasizing the word "final."

"We call Monsieur Tate to the stand."

A ripple of astonishment moved through the audience. I wrote feverishly on a piece of paper. The judge rapped his gavel and glared at the crowd of people, who immediately grew still. No one wanted to be removed from this courtroom now. Octavious, stunned by the sound of his name, lifted his head slowly and gazed around as if he just realized where he was. Monsieur Williams leaned over to whisper some strategy to him before he stood up. I handed my questions to Monsieur Polk, who perused them quickly and then looked at me sharply.

"Madame," he warned, "you could lose any sympathetic ear you might have if this proves untrue."

"We don't have any sympathy here," Beau answered for me.

"It's true," I said softly.

Octavious walked slowly to the witness stand, his head down. When he was sworn in, he repeated the oath very slowly. I saw that the words were heavy on his tongue and on his heart. He sat quickly, falling into his seat like a man who might otherwise crumple to the floor. Monsieur Polk hesitated and then shrugged to himself and stepped forward on our behalf.

"Monsieur Tate, after your son had first proposed marriage to Ruby Dumas, did you visit Ruby Dumas and ask her to refuse?"

Octavious looked toward Gladys and then he looked down.

"Sir?" Monsieur Polk said.

"Yes, I did."

"Why?"

"I didn't think Paul was ready to marry," he replied. "He was just starting his oil business and he had just built this home."

"That seems like a good time to think of marriage," Monsieur Polk said. "Wasn't there another reason for your asking Ruby Dumas to refuse your son's proposal?"

Octavious looked at Gladys again. "I knew my wife was unhappy about it," he said.

"But your wife has just testified that she was happy Paul was doing the right thing and she testified that she fully accepted Ruby Dumas into her family. Was that not the case, monsieur?"

"She accepted, yes."

"But not willingly?" Before Octavious could respond, Monsieur Polk followed quickly. "Did you believe the baby was your son's baby?"

"I . . . thought it was possible, yes."

"Yet you went to Ruby Dumas to ask her not to marry your son?"

Octavious didn't reply.

"Did your son tell you Pearl was his child?"

"He . . . said he wanted to provide for Ruby and Pearl."

"But he never said Pearl was his child? Sir?"

"No, not to me."

"But to your wife, who then told you? Is that the way it was?"

"Yes. Yes.”

"Then why didn't you think he was doing the right thing?"

"I didn't say he wasn't."

"Yet you admit you didn't want to see the marriage happen. Really, monsieur, this is very confusing. Wasn't there another reason, a more serious reason?"

Octavious turned his head slowly toward me and our eyes met. I pleaded for the truth with mine, even though I knew how devastating that truth was.

"I don't know what you mean," he said.

"Please," I cried. "Please do the right thing." The judge slammed his gavel down.

"For Paul's sake," I added. Octavious winced and his lips trembled.

"That's quite enough, madame. I warned you and—"

"Yes," Octavious admitted softly. "There was another reason."

"Octavious!" Gladys Tate screamed. The judge sat back, shocked at the outbursts, one from each side.

"Don't you think it's time to tell that reason, Monsieur Tate?" our attorney said with a senatorial voice.

Octavious nodded. He looked at Gladys again. "I'm sorry," he said. "I can't go on with this. I owe you so much, but what you're doing is not right, my dearest wife. I'm tired of hiding behind a lie and I can't take a mother from a child."

Gladys wailed. Necks strained to see her daughters comforting her.

"Will you please tell the court what that additional reason was," Monsieur Polk demanded.

"A long time ago, I succumbed to temptation and committed an adulterous act."

The audience took a collective deep breath.

"And?"

"As a result, my son was born." Octavious raised his head and gazed at me. "My son and Ruby Dumas . . ."

"Monsieur?"

"They were half brother and half sister," he confessed.

Bedlam broke out. The judge's gavel was barely heard above the din. Gladys Tate fainted and Octavious buried his face in his hands.

"Your Honor," Monsieur Polk said, stepping forward. "I think it would be in the best interest of the court and all concerned if we could adjoin to your quarters to complete this hearing."

The judge considered and then nodded. "I will see opposing counsels in my chambers," he declared, and rose from his seat. Octavious had not moved from the witness chair. I got up quickly and crossed to him. When he raised his head, his cheeks were wet with tears.

"Thank you," I said.

"I'm sorry for all that I have done," he said.

"I know. I think now you will find peace inside yourself."

Beau came up and embraced me. Then he led me away, people stepping aside to create a path for us. I bit off all my fingernails while Beau and I waited outside Judge Barrow's chambers. My heart was pounding and my stomach felt like it was churning butter. The Tates' attorneys emerged first, their faces so stone-cold, they revealed nothing. They didn't even look our way. Finally Monsieur Polk came to us and told us the judge wanted to meet with us alone.

"What has he decided?" I asked frantically.

"I'm to ask you to go in only, madame. Please."

I clutched Beau's arm, my legs threatening to give out at any moment. If we were to leave without my daughter . . .

In his office without his judicial robes, Judge Barrow looked more like a nice old Grandpère. He gestured for us to sit across from him on the settee and then he took off his reading glasses and leaned forward.

"This was, needless to say, the most unusual custody hearing in my experience. I think we have sorted out the truth now. I'm not here to assign blame at this time. Some of this was caused by events beyond your control, but there are all sorts of fraud, ethical and moral fraud, too, again you know how much of that is your doing."

"Yes," I said, my voice filled with remorse.

Judge Barrow stared a moment and nodded. "My instincts tell me your motives for your actions were good ones, motives of love, and the fact that you were willing to risk your reputations and your fortunes by telling the truth in court bodes well in your favor.

"But the state is asking me to judge whether or not you should have custody of this child and be in charge of her welfare and her moral education or whether or not it is better for her to be assigned to a state agency until a proper foster home is found."