Mary Madeleine climbed the huge magnolia tree easily; the branches were close together and woven like a ladder. In her bare feet and lime green dress she blended right in with the leaves. She settled herself on Rider, the branch she pretended was a horse, and lay stomach down, bare legs and arms dangling on either side. From this vantage point, she could see into her mother's room.

Aunt Liz bent over her mother, smoothing hair away from her face and talking gently to her. Her mother's face looked ghastly; it was the color of the white linen sheets, and as Mary Madeleine watched, Aunt Liz filled a syringe and administered the medicine.

"Mary Madeleine!"

She glanced down. It was her sister, Elizabeth Anne. Mary Madeleine was perfectly quiet, and finally LizAnne went back inside. "I don't know where she is," she heard LizAnne say. "She's disappeared again."

"We'll go without her," said Uncle Howard. "Liz, Amy, time to go," he called, and Mary Madeleine watched them parade out of the house in their Sunday best: Aunt Liz, Uncle Howard, her father, LizAnne and her cousin Amy. When they were away from the house, Mary Madeleine carefully inched forward on Rider, caught the branch below him, and stretched her hands out until the tips of her fingers touched the lacy iron balcony. She gave a mighty jump and scrambled over the pointed railing, then she walked through the floor-length window into her mother's room.

Mama was out. Her face was tinted gray, and her lips were the color of the blushing pink roses Aunt Liz loved so. Her breathing was slow and ragged, and although Mary Madeleine was a little hot, her mother's skin was cool, as cool as the wooden floor under Mary Madeleine's feet.

There was no need to be quiet. The medicine Aunt Liz had given Mama wouldn't wear off till they returned from church, and the maid didn't like coming up to this wing of the house. Mary Madeleine crept forward, kissed her mother on the cheek, then curled up at the foot of the bed.

She lay like that for perhaps an hour, dozing, watching the leaves shift on the tree outside. Sometimes when she came in here, she told her mother stories or gossiped about school, but today she was quiet.

Her mother shifted in the bed, muttering.

"Mama?" Mary Madeleine sat up and inched closer to her mother. "Mama, are you there?"

Mama's eyes opened, and although unable to focus, she smiled vaguely. "Mary Madeleine, is that you, honey?"

"Yes, Mama."

"Who let you in here?"

"Rider."

Her mother was familiar with Rider, and she smiled again. "We may have to put him out to pasture, if he keeps disobeying me. This is no place for a little girl."

Mary Madeleine smiled, and touched her mother's face. "I miss you, Mama. Aunt Liz is very nice, but she's not you."

"I know." Her mother's eyes fluttered closed for a moment, her face drawn in pain. "Is Liz around, honey?"

"She's at church. Do you ... hurt?"

"Not much," Mama said.

"Can I do something?" Mary Madeleine looked at the table by the bed, littered with half-full bottles of medicine. An ice-filled punch bowl held little vials with rubber tops. The unused syringes were in a crystal cut highball glass. They were all off-limits to Mary Madeleine; Aunt Liz had told her and Elizabeth Anne that they were not to touch anything on the table, and Aunt Liz's word was law.

Her mother glanced at the table. "Look around for one of those little rubber-topped bottles."

"There are a lot," Mary Madeleine answered doubtfully.

"Look for one that is full."

Mary Madeleine searched and came up with two.

"What do they say, honey?"

"These names are too long," Mary Madeleine said. "This one starts: M. O. R. P. H..."

"That's the one, darlin'. Hand it to me, will you?"

Mary Madeleine did. "You want a shot, too?" she asked.

"Yes, honey, please."

Mary Madeleine handed her a syringe, then, as her mother attempted to stab the needle through the rubber opening, she said, "I can do it, Mama. I watched Aunt Liz lots of times."

With a sigh, her mother surrendered the medication. Mary Madeleine expertly inserted the needle and pulled on the plunger, just as Aunt Liz did. "How much?"

Her mother watched her dully. "Fill 'er up, honey."

Mary Madeleine paused, doubtfully. "Aunt Liz never fills it all the way up."

"This is a different kind of medicine," her mother said, her words slurring a bit. "Go on, do as I say."

Mary Madeleine obeyed, then handed the full syringe to her mother, who looked at it awkwardly. "Hold down my arm, will you, sugar?"

Mary Madeleine pressed all her weight on her mother's upper arm; when a vein finally appeared, her mother was shaking. The syringe fell from her hand, and Mary Madeleine grabbed it, closed her eyes, and plunged it in, pushing it slowly as Aunt Liz did.

The were both shaking when it was over, but Mary Madeleine was relieved to see her mother almost immediately relax.

"Mama, should I get someone?"

"No, honey, I just want you. Sing me a little song, will you, darlin'?"

"What shall I sing?"

Making an effort, her mother smiled again. "I believe I'd like to hear Bill Bailey."

By the time Mary Madeleine got to the second verse, her mother was quiet. Mary Madeleine lay beside her, lulled to sleep by the cicadas in the trees and the whomp-whomp of the ceiling fan.

Mary Madeleine snored lightly, one arm thrown around the already cooling body of her mother.

************

Mary Madeleine intended to spend Wednesday at the funeral, and when the announcement that the little girls would be staying home was made, she saw no reason to change her plans. She'd just have to adjust them.

Elizabeth Anne had locked herself in the nursery and still wasn't coming out, which meant only Mary Madeleine suffered banishment to the upstairs porch until after the funeral. After it was over, she would be expected to be downstairs wearing something starched and itchy with a polite expression on her face.

She waited until the dark, sweating figures filed out the front gate and boarded the waiting limos at the curb. Then she took off her shoes and gloves, threw them over the porch, and balanced on the railing in her bare feet.

Evil Knivel did this kind of thing all the time, she thought, assuring herself. She took a huge leap, clutched the branches of the magnolia, and hung there for a moment. There was a sound of ripping cloth, but she wriggled up the branch and began descending. She put on her shoes and gloves and marched out the gate, ignoring the leaves caught in her hair and the tear down the front of her dress. She had places to go.

There was no way Mary Madeleine could walk to the church. It was too far, and even she realized the limitations a six-year-old had. So instead, she turned up Sixth and made her way over to Lafayette Number One.

The gates were open, and another funeral was just leaving. Mary Madeleine darted through the crypts, her white dress matching the graves.

Mama said these graves were nothing to be scared of, she reminded herself. They were just cities for dead people. The crypts were the houses of the dead, and the narrow sidewalks were for the living who came to visit. The dead stayed in their houses, and when Jesus came again, the doors would open and the dead would come out for judgment day.

Mama explained that the bodies were put on a sort of grate, and once the body was no more, the bones fell through the grate and rested below. Then the next person could be put in on top. Mary Madeleine sincerely hoped that Great Aunt Grace was finished; otherwise, there would be no room for Mama.

Mary Madeleine wondered who Great Aunt Grace would land on top of when they scooted her to the back of the crypt. She made her way to the family site, where the door had already been removed. A little dreading what she would see, Mary Madeleine stood back to peek in, but all she saw were cobwebs and shadows.

Mary Madeleine staked herself out a place behind the Du Bois' crypt, which was across the sidewalk and over two, and waited.

People began winding their way through the cemetery, and Mary Madeleine was still as the dead. Her cuts from the tree itched, and sweat trickled down her back, but she didn't move. Once everyone was there and their backs were to her, Mary Madeleine quietly climbed on top of the Du Bois' crypt so she could see.

There were a lot of people, she thought, surprised. Mama had been sick so long, Mary Madeleine figured people had forgotten her. Most of those present she knew, but one man was a stranger.

He wore a dark suit and hat like the others, but the hair under the hat was silver-gold. He was handsome and young, not as old as Daddy, and Mary Madeleine wondered why he was there. He stood in the back, and casually turned his head. He nodded at Mary Madeleine, and she shrank onto the crypt, suddenly embarrassed.

Before the service was over, Mary Madeleine quietly crept away. She had to be home before they discovered she was missing.

************

The man with the silver hair came to the house with everyone else, and Mary Madeleine, who was behind the drapes, studied him carefully.

Not everyone knew him, and the ones that did acted like he had some dreadful disease, like leprosy. The other men whacked each other on the shoulders, greeted each other in booming voices; but few people greeted this man, and no one whacked him.

"Come and have something to eat, Mary Madeleine," Amy encouraged, holding out a plate.

Mary Madeleine frowned. "I don't want anything with egg on it."

"All right, I'll get you another. Why don't you come and tell me what you want?"

"I don't want those people touching me."

Amy looked at Mary Madeleine's stained dress and smiled kindly. "I don't think you have to worry about that, honey. Come on."

Mary Madeleine followed her cousin, and as predicted, no one reached out for her.

Except the man with the silver hair.

"You must be Mary Madeleine," he said, smiling, touching her shoulder.

"Yes," Mary Madeleine agreed, stepping back.

"I'm Denys." He stuck out a hand, and, after a moment, Mary Madeleine shook it.

"H'd'ya'do," she mumbled. Amy handed her a plate and Mary Madeleine sank her teeth into a muffeletta.

"We've never met, but I've heard a lot about you from your Aunt Liz," he continued. "You were with your mother when she died."

"She was real sick," Mary Madeleine said.

"You're a big girl, I bet you were a comfort to her. Did you help her?"

"Sure. I sang songs to her, I talked to her ..."

"Did you give her any medicine?"

Mary Madeleine frowned. "We aren't allowed to touch Mama's medicine."

"Not even if she asked you to?"

Mary Madeleine searched his eyes, then said slowly, "Mama was sick. Sometimes when people are sick, they don't get better. They just die. Like Great Aunt Grace or Grandmama or Billy Boy."

"Who is Billy Boy?"

A wave of grief swept over Mary Madeleine and she put down her sandwich. "Our dog. He was run over last month. Daddy says we can't get another one on account of LizAnne. She has asthma and can't be around hairy animals. Not even if we shaved off all its hair."

Denys blinked, visualizing a naked dog running around the Garden District. "A dog with no hair would probably get sunburned," he said. "It'd be cruel to do that to an animal."

"I guess. Anyway, we can't have one."

"Where's your sister?"

"Upstairs. She's not coming down, though."

"Is she sick?"

"No. She's high-strung." Mary Madeleine delicately nibbled on a raw carrot. "Maybe she'll be down tomorrow, though. Aunt Liz gave her something, so at least she isn't screaming anymore."

Not sure of how to respond, Denys took a long drink of his iced tea and studied the child in front of him. She was a puzzle, that was a fact. From the doctors' reports, he knew her mother had been alive when the family left for church. If he had not been at church with the rest of the family, Denys would have immediately suspected the husband. The money was the wife's, the social standing the husband's; but in New Orleans, one needed both to survive. Well, in any case, the only one around was Mary Madeleine, and he knew beyond any doubt that it had been her little fingers that administered the lethal dose of morphine. Not only that, but she lied about it, so she must have known what she did. And she was a good little liar, too, he thought admiringly. If he hadn't known the truth, he would have believed her. I'll have to watch this one, he thought. She looked almost pitiful, standing there, munching on the funeral foods.

"Do you know what kind of medicine your mother took on Sunday?" he finally asked.

Mary Madeleine stuffed the rest of the sandwich in her mouth. "I'm only six. I can't read hard words yet."

She was smart, too, he thought, admiration increasing. He had no doubt she could read him like a book; her answer was truthful, sincere and when she turned big brown eyes on him, he had an uncanny urge to protect her, despite what she had done. "Do you remember what it looked like?"

"Why don't you ask Aunt Liz? She can read anything."

"Maybe I'll do that."

"Who are you?" Mary Madeleine asked, a little rudely, but the man smiled and she suddenly felt all right for the first time that day.

"Just a friend of the family, you could say. Your father and I do business together."

Mary Madeleine nodded; most of the people in this room worked with, or for, her father. "You rich?"

"Not exactly. Why do you ask?"

"'Cause my cousin Evie has her eyes on you," Mary Madeleine explained, nodding toward a tall, willowy woman with apricot-colored hair. "She's partial to rich men and if you don't want her, you better run now. Otherwise, you won't have a chance."

Denys laughed. "My dear heart, are you precocious?"

"I don't know what that means," Mary Madeleine said seriously. "But I do know better than to be standing by you when Evie gets here. She's fierce. Good bye."

"Good bye, little one." He watched as Mary Madeleine slipped behind the sofa with her plate, and a little later, when he saw a skinny pale arm dart out and snag a mint julep from the lax hand of an unsuspecting guest, he grinned and excused himself. He returned with a lemonade, which he sat close to Mary Madeleine's hiding place.

Later, when most of the guests had gone, it was Denys who found the missing Mary Madeleine. What with the liquor and the food, she had fallen asleep behind the couch. He gently pulled her out and handed her to Liz to put to bed.

************

- two years later

"Mary Madeleine, you come down here this instant!" The voice was angry and shrill, and Mary Madeleine pressed her hands quickly to her ears so she would be able to say truthfully that she hadn't heard her stepmother calling her.

"I know you're up there, I can see your legs hanging down. Get down here this red-hot minute!" Evie stood at the base of the tree, glaring upward, and Mary Madeleine had a wild urge to spit down on her. From this vantage point, Evie looked like an angry pear; her apricot hair was pulled off her face, her elbows shot out from her hips, and her rounded stomach gave her an unbalanced appearance. Resigned, Mary Madeleine slowly began descending. A few moments later, she slid down the trunk. A soft ripping sound was heard, and they both looked at her dress front.

"That's the third dress this month," Evie said, voice hot with anger. "Now, I want you to march yourself upstairs and change clothes. Then, we -- all of us -- are going to church. You'll sing with everyone else and you'll bow your head when we pray, and you'll have a smile on your face while you do it, dammit. Do you understand me?"

"Mama says ladies don't say dammit. They say darn or shoot, but they don't say dammit and they never say it in public."

Evie slapped Mary Madeleine so hard her neck snapped. "Don't you talk like that to me," she hissed. "You'll do as I say, or no Lafayette Number One for you this month."

"Daddy said --"

"Your Daddy won't be home for four more days. Until he is, what I say, goes. And if missing a visit is what it takes to get you to obey --"

Mary Madeleine went white, and her eyes filled. Going to the cemetery was a family event, and their next visit would be in a week. "I'm sorry. I won't do it again. I promise."

"That's better." Evie's voice became almost gentle, and Mary Madeleine stood rigidly, for a gentle Evie was even more frightening than an angry one. "Now, go. You have ten minutes and I want to see you dressed, pressed and presentable in the front hall, or else. Do you understand?"

"Yes." Mary Madeleine fled, hot tears suppressed until she reached the nursery. Then she let out a few shuddering sobs and hurried into clean clothes as fast as she could.

Mary Madeleine had discovered early on that she was not Evie's favorite person. Evie had beaten her for something -- Mary Madeleine couldn't remember what -- and bewildered by her punishment, which seemed excessive to her, Mary Madeleine had tried to put her arms around Evie. "Why?" she sobbed, and Evie slid away from her, disgust plain on her face.

"You are exactly like your mother," she hissed, slamming the door behind her, and Mary Madeleine, who had always taken such things as compliments, began to rethink her position in the family. She was her mother's favorite and Elizabeth Anne her father's; now, with Mama gone, she was definitely an outsider, and not a welcome one.

Elizabeth Anne helped as much as she could, but she was only two years older and did not have Mary Madeleine's stubborn streak. She brought her food and magazines when Mary Madeleine was locked up, but she couldn't defy Evie. Within the family, Mary Madeleine was known to be difficult, so no one questioned Evie's treatment of her. And if she had spoken out, they wouldn't have believed her.

Amy tried to diffuse the tension, too, but since Evie moved in, Uncle Howard, Aunt Liz and Amy had moved into the bachelor quarters in the back, over the old carriage house. They saw each other three times a week at dinner, but Amy didn't share the nursery with Elizabeth Anne and Mary Madeleine anymore. Evie forbid them to go to Aunt Liz and Uncle Howard's without asking first. Whenever Mary Madeleine asked, the answer was always the same. No.

Mary Madeleine marched downstairs as ordered. She made it through mass, but lunch was unending. She wasn't allowed to leave the table without eating everything on her plate, and it was mid-afternoon before she finally finished. She went outside and immediately threw up in the honeysuckle. Then she kicked off her hateful Awkward Ada shoes, flipped off her dreadful little-girl socks and, mindful of what Evie had said about her dresses, disrobed. She tucked her slip hem into her underpants and climbed up the magnolia. She stopped midway to collect Jerusha, tucking the rag doll into the front of her slip, then continued upward until the branches bent alarmingly under her weight.

"I'm never coming down," she informed Jerusha firmly. "They'll have to cut down the tree first."

Jerusha looked at her, pity plain in her button eyes. Jerusha was lucky; she lived in the tree. The first time Evie had seen Jerusha, she had indicated that Jerusha was lacking in beauty, and frightened, Mary Madeleine installed her in a hollow. She couldn't bear it if Jerusha were taken away -- or, even worse, thrown out. Mama had made her when Mary Madeleine was born, and she was one of the last links she had with her mother that Evie hadn't either taken or thrown away. Mary Madeleine hugged her tightly and wished, not for the first time, that she could see Lafayette Number One from here. Next week was so far away.

Lulled by the hot spring day and the swaying of the tree, Mary Madeleine fell asleep clutching her branch. When she woke, it was late afternoon and the wind had picked up. The sky overhead was that peculiar green-gray that indicated a storm, and as she climbed down the tree, the first heavy cold drops of water were splashing down.

A gust of wind caught her, sweeping her hair in her eyes. She swayed uncertainly, then caught her balance again, but not before Jerusha plunged downward. Mary Madeleine's heart stopped for a moment, but Jerusha got caught in a lower branch. Then the wind came again, and she was blown out still further.

Mary Madeleine paused in her descent. She didn't want to leave Jerusha in the tree like that. She'd get soaked. On the other hand, she couldn't see a way to rescue her. Jerusha hung awkwardly on a branch that was certainly too small to hold Mary Madeleine. Perhaps if she got a broom or a mop, she could bat her out of the tree.

Thunder growled overhead, and a sudden flash lit the sky. Never fond of storms, and mindful of lightening, Mary Madeleine shinnied down the rest of the tree, glancing worriedly at Jerusha. She'd have to wait till tomorrow. Maybe the wind would blow her down.

A sudden crash shook the earth, and Mary Madeleine fled for the relative safety of the house. She could already hear Evie yelling because the electric lights were flickering. She couldn't wait until Daddy came home this week. Things were always quieter when he was here.

************

When Mary Madeleine woke the next morning, half of her tree was gone.

Had it fallen the other way, it would have crushed Evie's room, and most likely Evie herself. Mary Madeleine thought the least the tree could have done was fall in her favor, then she felt ashamed for thinking such evil thoughts.

The worst thing was, Jerusha was buried under it. Tangles of already-wilting leaves and dangerous splintered wood rested on the ground by the downstairs porch. Mary Madeleine put on her shoes and went to investigate, hoping that Jerusha would be on top.

She wasn't.

"She's been killed," Mary Madeleine muttered, fighting back tears.

"Who has?" Elizabeth Anne asked idly, surveying the damage.

"Jerusha is under there, I don't know where, but she'll be dead for sure."

"Maybe not," Elizabeth Anne encouraged. "She's rag, so maybe she's just torn up a bit."

Mary Madeleine turned tragic eyes on her sister, and Elizabeth Anne smiled. "We'll find her, you'll see. And no matter how badly she's damaged, we'll fix her. Promise."

"How?"

"Once they start cutting up the tree, she'll come out, I'm sure," Elizabeth Anne comforted.

Men came in the afternoon to start cutting up the tree. They revved up their chain saws and Evie immediately went out shopping. She said the noise was too much for a pregnant woman to bear, and left the girls in the care of Aunt Liz.

From the upper balcony, Mary Madeleine watched the men intently. She had told each of them to watch for Jerusha, and Elizabeth Anne was down below, keeping an eye out as well. Suddenly, she gave an Indian war whoop, and clattered up the stairs to the balcony, face bright and smile wide.

"Mary Madeleine! Look!" She thrust Jerusha toward Mary Madeleine, but the unexpected rush and her excitement in finding the doll made her gasp suddenly for breath, and she paused on the circular stair, chest tight and wheezy.

"Jerusha!" Mary Madeleine reached out, but Elizabeth Anne, suddenly faint with asthma, clutched her chest reflexively. Mary Madeleine darted toward her sister and her doll.

Afterward, she was never sure what happened. One minute Elizabeth Anne was standing under her, struggling for air, Jerusha against her chest; the next, Jerusha was in Mary Madeleine's arms and Elizabeth Anne was falling backwards down the circular iron stair, grasping frantically for a handhold. Horrified, Mary Madeleine watched her cartwheel down, almost in slow motion, going head over heels, white thin hands sliding over the banister.

Her head smacked against the bricks below, and she lay still, legs and arms at awkward angles, eyes still wide and shocked.

Someone began screaming. It was a full minute before Mary Madeleine realized it was herself.

************

Much later on, the only thing Mary Madeleine would be able to remember about the weeks following her sister's death was the way LizAnne had stared up at her. Mary Madeleine spoke when spoken to, and when people touched her, Mary Madeleine shivered away.

Evie almost lost the baby she was carrying and blamed Mary Madeleine. The doctor said it was stress over Elizabeth Anne's death and ordered bed rest. Things had been bad before; now, they were unendurable. Nothing she did was right, and Evie, frustrated by Mary Madeleine's lack of emotion and absolutely furious about the baby, terrified her when they were alone.

Mary Madeleine couldn't sleep. While the rest of the house slept, she picked the lock to her room and wandered. At first, she prowled the quiet dark halls of the house, then she restlessly roamed the garden. In the moonlight, bushes turned into trees and trees turned into forests; Mary Madeleine strolled barefoot. The only sounds were the crickets and an occasional frog, and streetlights threw peculiar shadows on the lawn. It was only a few steps to the gate, and from there, only a few blocks to the cemetery. Mary Madeleine walked directly to her crypt and, with a bit of awkward scrambling, made it to the top. She stretched herself out, face down, hugging the rough stone.

The first time Mary Madeleine escaped to Lafayette Number One, the whole neighborhood came out to look for her. After they found her, Daddy decreed that she never be left alone; but the house was big and Mary Madeleine was small, and it was very easy for her to slip away. After awhile, they gave up and let her go.

She still didn't cry.

Laying on top of the crypt, Mary Madeleine looked up into the hazy night sky. Somewhere, she heard the clack of men's dress shoes on pavement, but she wasn't afraid. What else could happen? A slight breeze rippled over the white tombs, still warm from the day's heat. Mary Madeleine sighed and turned over, legs and arms outstretched.

The man with the silver hair came. She recognized him when he pulled her into his arms and rested his chin on her head. He smelled like tobacco, alcohol and peppermint; not an unpleasant combination, and she automatically wrapped her legs around his waist, monkey-like. He carried her easily, and suddenly, she began crying, huge wracking sobs that soaked his coat front. He sat down on a low crypt and rocked her a bit, mopping her face. Lulled by the steady beat of his heart and finally exhausted, Mary Madeleine drifted off.

************

On Monday of the first week of school, Mary Madeleine beat up Jennifer Warren and Juliette LaRioette. On Tuesday, she cut off one of Marcy Gireaux's blonde braids in sewing class and in art on Thursday, she tumped an entire bucket of yellow paint on Evangeline Eberhardt. Mary Madeleine was promptly withdrawn from Sacred Heart before she was thrown out and spent the remainder of September either at home or in Lafayette Number One.

There were whispered conversations behind locked doors, and until Denys came by one Tuesday, she was beginning to be afraid.

"Hey, Mary Madeleine," Denys called up, and Mary Madeleine peered down from her perch in the oak tree. It was far from the house --and far from Evie -- and she could see down the street in both directions.

"Hey Denys," she said softly.

"Shall I come up or will you come down?"

Mary Madeleine hesitated, then began climbing down. The tree was her domain, and she didn't want grown-ups -- even ones like Denys -- coming in and ruining it for her. Denys gallantly reached up and caught her, then placed her on her feet. He offered a hand, and Mary Madeleine took it.

"What do you know about Texas?" he asked.

"They have cowboys," Mary Madeleine answered instantly. "And oil wells. And everyone is very rich."

"There are cowboys and oil wells in some places, but not everyone is rich," Denys said. "That's a little like saying all people who live in New Orleans are Cajun or speak French."

"Oh."

"Did you know you have cousins in Texas? There's a boy, Warren, who's a few years older than you, and a girl about your age. Grace Alice. Her mother and father have asked if you could come and stay with them for a while."

"Why?" Mary Madeleine could not imagine anyone requesting her company.

"They don't know you well, and Grace Alice's mother misses your mother. They were cousins and grew up together, like you and Amy have. Her name is Gwen. Her husband's name is Paul. I've met them; they are very nice."

"How long would I be gone?"

"That depends on how long you want to stay gone." A screen door slammed, and they both looked up to see Evie going into the garden with a pair of shears. "You could stay as long as you want to," Denys said gently.

"I wouldn't get to visit Mama or LizAnne," she said in a small voice.

"I thought about that," Denys replied. From his coat pocket he took a small triptych about the size of a prayer book. When he unfolded it, LizAnne and her mother smiled outof the frames. The last picture was the final one they had of them all together. Mary Madeleine reached for the frame.

"Will Aunt Gwen beat me?"

"No. She's very much like your Aunt Liz and your mother," Denys said, surprised. He had thought Evie and Mary Madeleine simply didn't get on; the possibility of it being something more puzzled him. No one had ever said anything about abuse ... but then, Mary Madeleine did look like her mother, and if the stories about the love triangle were true, he could see how Evie would take out frustrations on Mary Madeleine.

"Do they live on a ranch?" Mary Madeleine asked.

"No, sweetheart, they live in Dallas. But the neighborhood is nice and there's lots of children to play with."

"When can I leave?"

"As soon as you can get a bag packed. Evie can send the rest of your things later. Shall I call for airline tickets?"

"Yes, please." She turned to go, then whirled around, suddenly scared again. "Will I be going by myself?"

"Your father suggested I go with you. If that's all right with you."

"Yes," Mary Madeleine said, relieved. "Yes, that'd be nice. Thank you." She paused, then said slowly, "Grace Alice. Is she nice?"

"Very. You'll love her. She's looking forward to seeing you. Gwen said she's already chosen what flowers to place in your room when you arrive and she's been showing your picture to the dog so he won't jump on you."

"There's a dog, too? How big?"

"Not big. Very friendly, though."

"Shall I be going to school?"

"Yes, with Grace Alice. They have uniforms, but they aren't bad. Similar to Sacred Heart, I believe."

It was the wrong thing to say. Mary Madeleine's face froze, but she didn't change her mind. "I'll go pack."

Denys watched her stride purposefully across the lawn, pony tail swinging a bit, steps sure and firm. Her dress was getting too short, and where the hem hit her legs, Denys could see the beginnings of a livid bruise. The only thing that was slightly little-girlish was Jerusha tucked securely in the crook of her arm. Her back was straight and the only time she faltered was when Evie rounded the corner of the house, arms full of cut roses. Then Mary Madeleine paused, but only for a moment. She darted out of reach of the scissors and through the door.

Denys frowned. Had he known about the abuse, he would have removed Mary Madeleine earlier. She was too special to ruin. In a few years, with the proper sort of training, she would be invaluable.

************

The house rested on an emerald lawn. The trees weren't as tall as in New Orleans, but they were substantial, and this house had quite a large oak in the front. The branches started out low, too, Mary Madeleine noted. Good for climbing.

She and Denys got out, and he told the cab driver to wait. They stepped over a discarded pink bicycle on the sidewalk and made their way to the front door. Mary Madeleine swallowed nervously, hoping she wouldn't be sick again, and ducked behind Denys.

The door was suddenly thrown open by a woman dressed in a halter-top and shorts. Her hair was tied up in a bandana and in her right hand she gripped a water pistol. Through the open door, they could hear contagious laughter, and a boy's voice yelling something that sounded suspiciously like "Gotcha!"

"Yes?" she asked breathlessly.

Denys laughed and stuck out a hand. "Hi, Gwen. Denys Graves, we met a few weeks ago."

"Of course! Denys." She switched the toy to the other hand and gave him a soggy shake. "How is -" She spotted Mary Madeleine hiding, and reached out and grabbed her in a tight hug. Mary Madeleine let out a little squeak when her arms wrapped around her back.

She knew she looked awful. The dress she wore had been LizAnne's. Besides being dirty and wrinkled, it was too big. It hung comfortably from her shoulders and didn't touch her back anywhere. It was the only thing she could bear to wear.

"I'm so glad you're here!" Aunt Gwen was saying, face bright. "I've been looking forward to you coming for so long. Grace Alice!" she called, and a small figure vaulted down the hall stairs.

Mary Madeleine regarded her solemnly. Grace Alice had Alice-in-Wonderland hair, and was wearing a dry swimsuit with streaks of water across it. She had a homemade Indian headdress on, feathers sticking out erratically. Her water gun was tucked, oddly enough, in a gun holster; water dripped down her leg. "Hey," Grace Alice said, and held out both hands. "Can I show her the new room?" she asked, and her mother nodded.

"Honey, why don't you get her set up for a bath. Then we'll eat dinner."

Denys faded into the background and was halfway down the sidewalk before Gwen looked up. "Mr. Graves, would you like to stay for dinner? Paul'll be home directly."

"No, thanks, I have to get back. Mary Madeleine, I'll be seeing you," he called, and Mary Madeleine fingered his business card in her pocket.

"Thanks Denys," she said, and he smiled at her.

"You take care, now," he warned, and she nodded.

Grace Alice led her upstairs, indicating the rooms on the second floor. "That's mama and daddy's. That's Warren's. And I'm next door to you. See, there's a special door just for us, so if you need anything, you can drop in," she said, nodding to the connecting door. Grace Alice's room was a hodgepodge of dolls and at least two erector sets; clothes decorated the bedposts, and she pulled a clean nightgown out of her dresser drawer.

Grace Alice turned to the bathroom. "We share it with Warren, but he doesn't take too long. I'll go find you a clean towel. I'm blue and Warren's white," she said, pointing to the towels already hanging on the rack. "I'll get you some other color. And I'll find a new toothbrush, too." She lay the nightgown on the sink and disappeared.

Mary Madeleine started the water and sighed. It was cold in here; the air conditioning was going full blast. She had her clothes off and was dipping her toes in when the door opened again.

"Here's some clean towels -" Grace Alice broke off with a sharp gasp and dropped the towels. "Don't move."

The door slammed and Mary Madeleine could hear Grace Alice running down stairs. "Mama? Mama!"

Mary Madeleine couldn't see her back, and truthfully, she hadn't wanted to know how bad it was. She twisted around, but all she could see was a livid red puckered streak.

"What is it?" Aunt Gwen asked, Grace Alice hovering in the background. "Grace Alice, honey, climb up and get me that cream I put on Warren's cuts." Her hands were cool and gentle. "Did someone do this to you?"

Mary Madeleine was silent, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Did Denys do this?"

Mary Madeleine shook her head, studying her feet.

"Your daddy? Uncle Howard?"

Mary Madeleine shook her head again; tears splashed in the bath water.

Aunt Gwen's face tightened. "It was Evie."

Unable to suppress a sob, Mary Madeleine nodded dumbly. Aunt Gwen gently sat her down in the water, and soaped up a washcloth, gingerly washing the cuts on her back. Grace Alice perched on the closed toilet, eyes wide and scared. "When did this happen, Mary Madeleine?" Aunt Gwen asked.

"Last night," Mary Madeleine whispered.

"Then it's too late to go to the hospital. Most of it's closed up, anyway." She rinsed the soap off, and Mary Madeleine gasped in pain. "Honey, I'm sorry," Aunt Gwen murmured. "I know it stings. We'll wait and do your hair tomorrow, when it's healed up a bit, all right?"

Mary Madeleine nodded, and put her head on her knees. Aunt Gwen sighed, and brushed a damp strand of hair off her forehead. "Grace Alice, no one knows about this, you understand?"

Grace Alice nodded.

"Mary Madeleine? Was LizAnne ..."

"No. Just me."

"Was it always this bad?"

"No," she whispered. Sometimes, it had been worse.

"Why?" Grace Alice asked. "Why would someone do that?"

"Honey, I don't know. Some people are just mean clear through. Evie's one of them," Aunt Gwen said. "Mary Madeleine, do you want me to phone your father?"

"He's out of town. It doesn't matter. He won't believe you. Evie said I reminded her of Mama," she said, voice toneless. "Do I have to go back?"

"No," Aunt Gwen said quickly. "Lord, no, honey. You're staying right here for as long as you want. It may take some doing, but you aren't going back until you want to."

A man's booming voice was heard downstairs; Warren let out a happy yell, and his father hollered cheerfully back. Aunt Gwen looked at both girls. "Wash up, Mary Madeleine. Grace Alice'll help you. Are you hungry?"

"No, ma'am."

"Then Grace Alice will put you to bed. I'll come in to kiss you in a bit." She smiled at Mary Madeleine, and Mary Madeleine nodded. Aunt Gwen bent down and kissed the top of her head. "It's all right, Mary Madeleine. I promise."

Mary Madeleine finished up in silence, and in silence, Grace Alice helped her dry off. As Mary Madeleine stood still, Grace Alice gently applied the cream to her back, then helped her with the nightgown. She made her take two orange colored aspirin and led her to the bedroom; a sparse, pretty room that used to be a guest room, and turned down the bed.

"I can't sleep alone," Mary Madeleine said choked out. "My sister always ..."

"What?"

"My sister always is there."

"Oh." Grace Alice stood thoughtfully on one foot, then smiled. "I'll stay till you go to sleep. And I'll leave the door open. Would that be okay?"

Mary Madeleine nodded, and Grace Alice disappeared into her own room. She came back with a copy of Peter Pan and turned off the overhead light. She flicked on the bedside lamp, and sat down Indian-style in a wing chair, her feathers casting long shadows on the wall.

"Chapter one, page one," she began, and by the time she was to the fifth page, Mary Madeleine was asleep.

How could someone hurt a little girl like that? The whole concept was frightening and inconceivable to Grace Alice. She looked at her cousin. Mary Madeleine was the same height as Grace Alice, but she was much skinnier, and Grace Alice had never seen such a white white person. Next to Grace Alice's golden skin, Mary Madeleine was the color of paper. Grace Alice frowned and marked her place in Peter Pan with a feather. She softly kissed her cousin's cheek and tiptoed out of the room.

************

(Eight years later)

Madeleine stood on a chair in front of the pier glass in her mother's room, a bottle of gin in one hand and a tin of pins in the other.

"Hurry it up," she grumbled, "It's hotter than a crotch in here." A very pregnant Amy scowled up at her.

"Don't be vulgar. Stand still, dammit. I nearly stabbed you."

Madeleine took a swig from the bottle and intoned, "Ladies never say dammit. They say darn or shoot, but never dammit..."

"...and never in public," Amy finished. She glanced up again. "If you sweat, I'll kill you."

"It's got to be 90 degrees in here," Madeleine sighed. "You'd think Daddy'd break down and get air conditioning."

"Honey, that man'll never break down about anything. Hold on, we're almost done." Amy finished pinning up the hem of the gown, and stood up slowly, bracing her back. She circled Madeleine, eyes traveling over the dress, and nodded. "You've got a better figure than I did when I was 17. The dress fits really nicely, except for that hem. Too bad you're taller than I am. But I think it looks good."

"Good. Get me out of this."

Amy sighed and took the pins and the gin from Madeleine. "It's a sad day when you have to drink in order to get fitted. You aren't like this in Dallas, are you?"

"Course not. I'm studying too hard. But one must drink to endure N'awlins. Don't lecture, Cuz," Madeleine pleaded. "I'm dying in here."

Amy held out her hands and Madeleine gingerly stepped off the chair, dragging the dress with her. It weighed at least twenty pounds, and between the satin and the sequins, it was like wearing armor. Amy carefully unhooked the back, and with a sigh of relief, Madeleine stepped out of the dress. Then Amy helped her off with the corset.

"If I'd known what torture you were planning for me, I'd never have come back," Madeleine said, grinning. She pulled on a T-shirt and her cut-offs, and stretched tall. "Wanna go out tonight?"

Amy laughed. "Mary Madeleine, I'm seven months pregnant. I don't need to go bar hopping with you. If we do anything tonight, it's fixing your hair."

"Oh, hair," Madeleine waved her green tresses away with a shrug. "C'mon, please. The only people I've met are those awful debs. And I am not spending another evening in this house with the living dead."

The bedroom door opened, and Evie entered. "There's someone to see you, Mary Madeleine."

Madeleine seemed to grow taller as she looked coldly at Evie. "Thank you," she said, voice icy and indifferent. She might have been speaking to a dog or a servant, and Amy bent over the dress so Evie wouldn't see her smile. Madeleine continued staring at Evie until Evie flushed slightly and left.

"How'd you do that?" Amy grinned.

"It's called The Dead Fish. I just imagine I'm looking at a smelly dead fish, and my face does the rest."

"You are such a nut!" Amy laughed, then grew serious. "But I'm glad you can stand up for yourself now."

"Mmmm," Madeleine said noncommittally, and busied herself with the corset. "Amy. How's Philip holding up?"

"I guess all right. The Heir, you know. Evie doesn't terrorize him the way she did us. Or you, I should say. Maybe 'cause he's her natural born and all that."

"She's told him things about me," Madeleine said sadly. "I don't know what, but he's scared to death of me."

"Why do you care?" Amy asked, curiously. "You're only here for Carnival. I love you,but sugar, you're better off in Texas. You can't stay in this house."

"I don't want to stay. I can't wait to get back to SMU and Grace Alice. She'll be a whole semester ahead of me when I go back, I'll have to work like a dog to catch up. Damn Daddy, anyway," she said, frowning at her reflection in the mirror. "It's just like him to hold college tuition over my head."

"I still think you should have laid off a year or two, gone to Europe, done something fun. You still would've graduated with people your age."

"Amy, I've never been with people my age. Except Grace Alice,and she was always promoted in school, too. We were both two years ahead of our class, and if we can graduate early, that just means we can go to grad school early. Not that Grace Alice'll finish. She'll find some sweet smart man and marry him and be happy ever after."

"What about you?" Amy grinned.

"I don't think I can do happily ever after." Madeleine ran a hand through her short hair, and forced herself to smile. "Well. On to the lion's den."

Daddy hated to see women in shorts; Mary Madeleine's were the shortest she could find, and her toenails were a vibrant parrot green. Her hair was cropped short and dyed to match her toes; padding barefoot down the stairs, she idly reconsidered her decision to not get a tattoo.

It'd make him so mad, she thought with a grin.

The office door opened. Madeleine stretched to her full height, which was considerable, and sauntered in, but stopped short when she saw the golden-haired man standing to greet her.

"Who died?" she drawled, deliberately southern, and slumped into a chair.

"What do you mean, Mary Madeleine?" her father asked, taking his place behind the desk.

"Well, old Denys here never shows up, 'less he can hit a funeral or two. Just wondered if I needed to get my black dress out. Lemme guess: Evie's afraid I'll knock off one of the family while I'm home, is that it? Perhaps dear Philip is in danger?"

Her father turned an unhealthy red, and Madeleine chuckled. "Where y'at, Denys?" she greeted.

"I'm fine, Mary Madeleine," he said mildly.

"Just Madeleine now," she said, considering him. Was he always so handsome? His hair glinted gold in the sun, and his smile ... how much older was he, anyway? He couldn't be more than 35. Let's see: it had been 11 years since they first met, which meant he could have been as young as 20; conceivably, he could be 32 or 33. Madeleine smiled, suddenly wishing her hair were not so very green, and dropped the southern accent.

"It's been awhile, Denys. Last time, you dropped by when I killed LizAnne."

"I think 'killed' is a bit strong, but other than that, you're correct. You've been a very busy woman since then."

"Guess you heard I'm taking Amy's place at Carnival."

"I've heard many complimentary things about you," Denys hedged, "Carnival being the least important."

Madeleine grinned, and Denys relaxed. He'd said the correct thing. It was always difficult to know with Madeleine. "Congratulations on the GPA."

"Thank you," Madeleine said primly, daintily crossing her bare ankles.

"So, what does the Krew think about your hair?" Denys asked.

"They think I'm going to hell in a hand basket," she said mildly, "But that's nothing to what they think about the motorcycle parked out back."

Denys couldn't help it. He laughed, long and loud, and after a moment, Madeleine joined in. Her father begin to relax and ordered drinks all round. Madeleine accepted a julep, neglecting to mention her gin consumption. As the bourbon hit her stomach, she sighed and put the icy glass to her face. It really was hot, especially for December.

"I have a proposition for you," Denys announced, after taking a drink from his icy glass and wiping the tears from his eyes. "Your father tells me you and he cut a deal."

"That's right," Madeleine said cautiously. "And he swore he'd not break it. I come back for Carnival and take Amy's place and act like a lady, and he lets me go back to SMU. If I say no, he won't pay for college."

"You're a little young for college."

"I'm 17. That's too young to deb, too. Most everyone else is Amy's age."

"What would you say to ditching SMU and taking up something different?"

"I'd say thank you very much Mr. Denys Graves, but no thank you."

"You don't even want to know what I have in mind?"

Curiosity got the better of her, and, draining her glass, she sat it down with a snap on her father's desk. "Is this your idea, Daddy?"

"Denys proposed it. I'll stick to my deal with you, whatever you decide."

"Mmm," Madeleine said, thinking. "Spill it, Denys."

Denys smiled, the picture of relaxed gentleman. So why is he so nervous? Madeleine wondered. She wished she hadn't had quite so much to drink. Something was going on and she couldn't put her finger on it.

"It's a type of school. Sort of graduate level, I guess you'd say," Denys said. "Pupils learn all about the latest technology and become specialists in their chosen field. We think you'd have a special aptitude for it."

"Who is 'we?'"

"The people at the Academy. First, you go to school for a few years, then you graduate and they place you. It's an excellent opportunity. Very challenging. I think you'd do well."

"What kind of technology?"

"Governmental, mostly." He handed her a bright brochure with pictures of lasers and computers, and smiled. "Look it over and tell me what you think. But first, may I take you to dinner?"

Madeleine stood up and tucked the brochure in the waistband of her shorts. "Can't. Amy's coloring my hair tonight. As you so accurately pointed out, green isn't in with the men of Comus, is it, Daddy?"

To her surprise, her father smiled. "You can repair the damage later, honey. Why don't you go on out with Denys? Just don't stay out too late."

Yes sir, Madeleine thought. Something was definitely going on. And Denys was in the thick of it, as always.

************

Madeleine dated in college, but never seriously. Everyone was older than she was, and she was focused on her studies. Even now, she read herself to sleep with textbooks.

Since being in New Orleans, she had gone out with family members. A few old acquaintances dropped by the house, but Madeleine was a stranger -- albeit a familiar one -- and she had never fit in. Just because she was keeping the family name in the social register (an invisible, yet powerful document) didn't mean she was accepted. Her name was accepted. She was not.

Denys made it bearable. He arrived in late December and began coming by the Moire house regularly. He made his plans for the evening gauged on Madeleine's face when she opened the door: if the skin around her eyes was tight and her smile was too brittle, she had suffered through another difficult day with Evie, and they went out. If she was relaxed and easy, they stayed in and played chess.

They went out more than they stayed in.

"How're things with Evie, lately?" he asked one evening.

"Don't ask. I keep having these dreams."

"What kind of dreams?"

"She's standing over me with a syringe full of something." Madeleine smiled a humorless smile. "It's probably because I'm staying in Mama's room now. I don't know. I'm just not sleeping very well, I guess. I don't seem to have any energy."

"Well, honey, have you been taking your iron pills?" Madeleine's anemia was a well-known fact; even if Denys had not known her blood count, he would have been able to guess something was wrong. She was too pale and had no energy. He would have to keep an eye on her; right now, she had a red count of six. Ten was normal. If she went much lower, she'd need a transfusion.

"Yes, thank you very much. You sound like Aunt Liz." Madeleine changed the subject and they strolled down Royal. She munched on a praline and hugged her blue jean jacket around her, for there had been a mild cold snap the day before. "So, Denys, what exactly do you do?"

"You could say I'm a recruiter," Denys smiled.

"For that school?"

"That's right. You reconsidering your decision?"

"Hah. I love Texas. Where is the school, anyway?"

"The Academy is located in Washington. The organization has branches all over the world."

"Kinda like the CIA."

Denys let out a shout of laughter, and Madeleine wondered what was so funny.

"Nothing, dear heart," Denys said, still chuckling. "The CIA. You'll be the death of me yet." Still grinning, they walked to the streetcar. "I get tomorrow off. Want to make a day of it?"

"Sure. What do you mean?"

"I thought we might go see the Evangeline oak. I've never been, have you?"

"No. We always meant to ... but we never did."

"Good. It'll be new to both of us then." Denys tucked Madeleine's arm through his, and she smiled at him.

"Denys, what're you up to?" she asked.

"Not a thing," he said, innocently.

Madeleine scrutinized him, then smiled. "Liar," she said softly.

"Maybe I am," he agreed. They got off at Sixth Street and walked past Lafayette Number One. Madeleine looked over at the tombs, glimmering in the streetlights, and smiled. When they reached the house, he kissed her briefly on the mouth.

Madeleine watched him retreat down the walk, and thoughtfully went inside.

Yes sir, something was definitely going on. Her fingers absently touched her lips, and she smiled.

************

Being in New Orleans brought back memories Madeleine would just as soon forget. Packed in the attic, neatly labeled in Evie's slanting script, were boxes containing the effects of her mother and Elizabeth Anne. She searched in vain for her mother's diary. Evie had taken the good jewelry, and records were warped by the heat and unplayable. Madeleine found her sister's charm bracelet and her mother's wedding ring; neither were valuable, except to her, and she tucked them away to take back home with her.

The white iron bed stands they'd used as children leaned against wall. No matter how carefully Madeleine looked, though, she couldn't discern which had belonged to Amy, to LizAnne or herself. In another corner of the attic were their summer beds, the Army cots they used on the upstairs porch. One was still stained with red fingernail polish from the summer that Amy discovered make-up.

The familiar furniture of Madeleine's childhood was still downstairs. It was too expensive to get rid of, and frankly, too much trouble. But the rooms had been repapered and recarpeted and the door frames had been polished and repainted. Even when Madeleine examined the frame in the nursery carefully, she could see no signs of the height marks they made as children.

Philip now had the nursery. Luke Skywalker was the master of the dolls house, and Han Solo managed the miniature garage next door. Instead of tiny Rolls Royces, dinosaurs and an occasional horse or robot lived there.

"What're you doing?"

"Nothing." Madeleine straightened up and smiled at her half-brother. "Is it all right if I come in?"

"Why?"

Madeleine shifted, a little embarrassed. "No reason, I guess. We don't know each other well, and I was wondering ... have you ever been to the Evangeline oak?"

"What's that?"

"A big old tree by the river. There's a poem about it. I'm going with Denys and I thought you'd like to go, seeing as today is bridge day."

Philip's face fell. "It is, isn't it? All those women coming in the house. Yak, yak, yak. They pinch my cheeks and say I look like Daddy."

"I know," Madeleine said. "Except when I was little, they said I looked like my mother. Want to come with?"

"Maybe." Philip rested his baseball bat against the wall and considered her offer. "Mama says you killed your sister. Is that true?"

"She fell down the stairs," Madeleine said. "You can read the newspaper article if you want." She drew her wallet from her pocket and carefully unfolded a yellow strip of paper.

Philip took it and read it, then handed it back without comment. Madeleine looked slowly around the nursery. The only thing that was the same was the swing that hung from the ceiling. Madeleine smiled at it. "We used to spend hours on that thing. I can't believe it's still up."

Philip seated himself and began pumping. "You're too big, now," he said.

"Yes," Madeleine agreed, and watched him for a few minutes. "Well. Denys'll be here soon. You coming?"

"Can we take the motorcycle?"

"Nope, not this time. But Denys has a sports car."

"What kind?"

"An MG. We could put the top down if you like, and you can sit on top of the motor."

"Okay. Cool." Philip grinned. "Hey. You're not going to be all kissy, are you?"

"Nope."

"Good." Philip joined her cheerfully, and if Denys was disappointed in the addition to their party, he didn't show it.

************

"God. Amy, get me the hell out of this," Madeleine said, barely able to stand. Lately, her energy had ebbed so much that she was taking naps in the afternoon, and the busy day had literally knocked her off her feet.

"Hold on." Amy and Aunt Liz begin taking the dress off Madeleine, and as soon as they got it off, she collapsed. "Get her some water, Mother," Amy said, and Aunt Liz rushed for a glass.

"It's all over, honey," Amy crooned, and Madeleine moaned. She wriggled out of the corset, and Amy carefully dusted powder on the marks it left on her back. Then she helped her into a nightgown.

"It damn well better be. If Daddy's not happy with me, I swear I'll tie him up in this corset and dress and parade him in front of a lot of old fossils who can't keep their hands to themselves. What a night." She groaned, and drank the water greedily. "As Comus Queen, I want some liquor and I want a lot of it. Now."

"You weren't queen. But you were very good. I'm sure he'll be very proud of you. I was," Aunt Liz said. "And if you want my advice, you'll go straight to bed. Booze is the last thing you need."

"Says you," Madeleine grinned. "Go away and let Amy take care of me. Please."

"I'd love to, but I can't. Amy needs her rest as much as you do. Honey, are you all right?" Aunt Liz handed Madeleine two aspirin and turned out the overhead light, and Madeleine nodded. "Go to sleep, Mary Madeleine. You've had a very long day."

Aunt Liz and Amy kissed Madeleine good night, and the door shut with a clack. Madeleine lay in bed, contemplating the ceiling, when the french door that led onto the upper back porch rattled.

More curious than frightened, Madeleine got up and peered out. "Denys!"

She opened the door, and Denys stepped through, still in evening clothes.

"Hey Mary Madeleine," he said.

"Hey Denys. Where y'at?"

"I danced with you tonight."

"Were you the one that pinched me?"

"No," Denys laughed. "You did quite nicely."

"Thanks a whole heap. You got something for me?"

"You bet." From behind his back, Denys brought out a large brown paper bag.

"You better have some alcohol in there," Madeleine said. "And if you don't, I'm sending you out for some."

"Not to worry," Denys smiled. "But first, food."

He had all her favorites: beignets, still hot; muffelettas; some lovely oysters; gumbo. She ate a little of everything, and washed it down with bourbon. Madeleine sighed happily and lay on her bed, making a mess of the cover and eating as much as she could.

"Denys, you should have some too," she chided. "After all, you went to all this trouble..."

"It wasn't any trouble," he said quietly, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Madeleine looked down at herself, suddenly realizing that she was in a nightgown, and it wasn't a terribly modest one. Denys letout a laugh. "You're safe from me, dear heart."

Madeleine scooped up the last of the gumbo, and took a healthy swig of bourbon. "And why is that? I mean, besides the fact that you've known me since I was ... what? Six? Seven?"

"Six. You were six when we met."

"So I was." She had had too much, too quickly. Her head was beginning to swim a bit, and Madeleine blinked, steadying herself. "So what you're saying is, you don't find me ... attractive?"

"I find you very attractive," Denys said. Madeleine studied him, and suddenly, he felt a bit short of breath. Barefoot, in her cousin's nightgown, with a crawfish in one hand and the bottle in the other, she was more than attractive. Denys moved from the bed to the chair, and Madeleine laughed.

"Don't tell me you're afraid of me, Denys. Think I'm going to attack you?"

"I'm ... not sure."

Madeleine abandoned her picnic and slowly crossed the floor, licking her fingers. She looked down at him as if he were a piece of fruit, and she was unable to decide whether he would be a good choice. Then she leaned slowly down.

Denys had never liked the smell of already consumed alcohol. It always smelled so much better before you drank it, he thought. But as he breathed in the scent of Madeleine's breath -- bourbon and garlic and sassafras -- he began reconsidering his opinion. "You're drunk," he reminded them both, gently.

"Not drunk enough to stop," Madeleine corrected. Suddenly, Denys pushed her away and stood up.

"Stop that," he said, voice shaking.

Madeleine's eyes flashed, and filled slowly with tears. "I thought ... I thought ...."

"I think I should go," Denys said, clearing his throat. "I was very proud of you tonight."

Madeleine turned away, unable to look at him. She heard the porch door close, and she heard him start down the stair.

Thoughtfully, Madeleine returned to her bed. So it wasn't about sex, after all. She slowly cleared off the debris.

Something still nagged at her; something wasn't right. What? She looked down at the bottle of bourbon. No more, she thought firmly. I'm not drinking any more around Denys. She was so tired, and she hoped she didn't dream of Evie again. Last night, once again, she dreamed Evie was standing over her, gripping her arm and putting a needle under her skin.

Madeleine glanced down at her arm, and was surprised to see a small bruise on the inside of her elbow. She rubbed it, thinking. Something is going on, and I can't ... put ... my ...finger on it. Not quite yet.

************

Madeleine woke up the next day with a raging headache. She couldn't decide whether it was the early morning picnic or the alcohol. Then she remembered Denys. "Damn him to hell, anyway," she muttered, and hauled herself out of bed. At least she hadn't dreamed of Evie.

She looked terrible. The dress had been so heavy it bruised her. Every muscle in her body ached. She stripped off her gown and looked at herself in the mirror. Purple ringed her ribcage, and dark bruises were beginning to bloom on her shoulders and upper back where the weight of the dress had rested. She groaned and stretched, and tried to soak her bad mood away with a hot bath.

Evie came into her room when she was dressing, and started in about the bed. Some of the gumbo had spilled on the spread, and there were little fried crumbs scattered through the covers.

"Shut up, Evie," Madeleine said flatly as she eased a sweatshirt on. "I've got a headache the size of Texas."

"Don't you talk to me like that. Your father --"

"Doesn't care a flying fig about me, and you know it," Madeleine finished. "Give it up, Evie. I did my duty and as soon as I can, I'm leaving. I can't wait to be back in Dallas."

"Oh, really?" Evie smiled at her, and through her headache, Madeleine's sixth sense suddenly went haywire. "And how are you feeling, dear heart?"

"What do you mean?"

"A little tired, perhaps?" Evie's voice dropped, and Madeleine felt a chill creep up her back. She pushed up her sweatshirt and closely examined the insides of both arms.

"It wasn't a dream, was it?" Madeleine asked, surprised at how calm she sounded. "What've you been shooting me up with, Evie?"

Evie smiled unpleasantly and Madeleine's stomach twisted. She felt like she was about eight years old again, looking for a tree to climb up to escape Evie.

But I'm not eight anymore, she thought, and suddenly, something inside of her snapped.

Madeleine threw down her hairbrush and whirled on Evie with an unexpected rush of energy. Her hands gripped Evie's shoulders and shook her, hard; Evie's head jerked back and forth like a Jack-in-the-box.

"I'm not eight years old, dammit! I'm seventeen and I can fight for myself! How dare you shoot me up with God knows what!" Madeleine yelled, and suddenly, realizing what she was doing, she let go of Evie. The smaller woman stumbled back, eyes wide, and Madeleine attacked her, grabbing up the discarded hairbrush.

Evie threw up her arms in self-defense; ruthlessly, Madeleine brought down the brush with all her strength. It met Evie's skin with a satisfying smack. "That's for locking me up!" The brush whistled through the air again; Evie squirmed to get away. "That's for not feeding me!" Whack. "That's for telling everyone I was difficult!" Another blow, and Evie's forehead split open. "That's for whipping me!" She lost her grip on the hairbrush and it went flying straight into the mirror. Glass exploded, sending shards cascading down on the two women on the floor. She grabbed Evie's shoulders and slammed her head into the floor.

Footsteps began running down the hall. "Mary Madeleine!" Philip cried, but Madeleine didn't hear him.

Madeleine's fist balled, and she struck out. Warren had been a good teacher; Evie immediately went limp, and Madeleine suddenly began to cry.

"That's for my mother," she whispered. When Philip tried to drag her off Evie, Madeleine jerked away from his touch and struck blindly out; he stumbled back, lost his balance, and fell onto the door frame, cracking his head hard against the hinge. He slid to the floor, and Aunt Liz nearly fell over him when she rushed through the door.

************

Madeleine lay quietly in her bed, mentally listing the pros and cons of her situation.

She didn't know what day it was. Actually, to be perfectly honest, she wasn't even sure what month it was. It had been awhile since the trial, she knew that. She felt of her hair; how much longer was it? She couldn't tell, and in St. Cat's, they didn't have mirrors.

It had taken her body a long time to get used to the medications they pumped in her. She was just now becoming accustomed to them, and each day, she became a little clearer-headed for a little longer. Then the nurse came in and gave her more, and she slumped into unconsciousness.

Someone paused outside her door, and Madeleine's eyes immediately closed. She didn't want them to know that she needed bigger doses to stay out. Ironic. Most people didn't want to know they were in a mental institution; Madeleine fought to stay conscious.

The bed creaked as a weight settled on it.

"Hey Mary Madeleine."

Her eyes flew open. "Hey Denys," she whispered, voice hoarse from not speaking. "What day is it?"

"Tuesday."

That didn't help her any. "What month?"

"Honey, it's April."

"April. I've been here two months?"

"That's right." He looked down on her and sighed. Her skin was paler than he had ever seen it, and she was terribly thin. Her hair was matted on one side, and dark purple circled her eyes. He helped her sit up and gently began brushing her hair, pulling the tangles out.

"You have to help me get out of here, Denys. Please."

"Your options are seriously limited, Madeleine." He finished with her hair and she settled back on the pillows.

"I can't go back to school."

"No." He hesitated, then took her hands in his. Careful, he thought. "But there's a place I know. You can train and learn, and you have certain qualities that we admire."

"That school you talked about?"

"That's right. Your father has agreed to release you from St. Cat's if you come with me."

"What choice do I have?"

"Dear heart, you always have a choice."

He was lying. Madeleine didn't care. She hurt all over, and her body craved the drug - whatever it was - that they gave her.

"This place," she whispered. "What's it called?"

Denys smiled. He had won. Finally. Mary Madeleine had always been a gamble, from the moment he met her. There had been many times in the past 11 years when he had been sure he had lost. Relief washed through him. It had all been worth it, he thought, smiling.

"I'll make all the arrangements," he whispered, smoothing her hair away from her face. Once she was healthy again, she'd be beautiful. And she had always been intelligent and perceptive. "You'll do so well at Red Cell."

Red Cell. Funny name. A code name for a governmental agency? Who cared? Withdrawal pain swept over Madeleine, and she blindly grasped Denys' hand. "Just get me out of here," she said through clenched teeth, and Denys nodded.

"Of course, I will, dear heart."

  (This is the end for awhile; I may pick her up again later)