Vivian and Ross deserved whatever humiliation she brought them. But now was not the time. Poor Baby, always the peacemaker; she didn't need the tension. Savannah had, after all, come here to rescue her. Besides, she preferred to torture her mother and stepfather in little, never-ending ways.
"Come on, Baby," she murmured, sliding an arm around Laurel.
They walked out of the parlor in no particular hurry, down the hall past Olive, who stood red-eyed, her flat face pale and wet, her stringy red hair clinging to her cheeks. The maid glared at Savannah. Savannah just laughed.
Laurel wanted to run and fling the door open and sprint for her car, but she was stuck beside Savannah, moving with nightmarish deliberation, their shoes clicking against the marble floor. She didn't dare try to rush. When Savannah was in one of her moods, there was no telling what she might do, what might set her off. Outside, the sun was breaking through. The low clouds that had brought the shower were already tearing apart into thin, gauzy strips and floating away. Humidity hung in the air like steam, thick and hard to breathe, intensifying the rich green scents of boxwood and bougainvillea. Savannah paused on the veranda as if she had all day and surveyed what might have been her kingdom if their father had lived.
Laurel saw it too. The broad sweeping emerald lawn, the lush semitropical growth of the cypress swamp beyond, the broad money green leaves of the sugarcane that stretched off in the other direction beyond the pecan grove. Home to generations of Chandlers. Generations that would end with them.
"Why did you have to do that?" she asked.
Savannah slid her sunglasses off and arched a brow. "Why? Because they deserved it. I came here to save you."
"Save me?" Laurel shook her head. "I was doing just fine. It was only a dinner. I was about to leave."
"Well, isn't that gratitude?" Savannah said sarcastically, cocking her hip. "I did what you've never had the nerve to do-I stood up to them-"
"I don't see the point in making a big public scene-"
"You wouldn't, would you?"
The remark cut Laurel to the bone. She sucked in a breath and looked away, guilt and anger twining inside her like vines. It wasn't fair of Savannah to blame her for not having been abused by Ross, but it was unpardonable that Laurel felt lucky for the same reason. The cycle of feelings never ended.
"Let's just go home and start the afternoon over, okay?" Start over. That was what she had come to Bayou Breaux to do. Why had she thought she would be able to start over in a place where the past never went away? She wanted to think they could all rise above it and move on, but with every moment she spent here, she felt it pulling at her more and more, like quicksand, like the thick mud of the swamp, sucking her down, draining her strength.
Savannah climbed in on the driver's side of Laurel 's black Acura, her dress riding up her bare thighs. Laurel went around the hood and slid into the passenger's seat, her eyes on the veranda of Beauvoir. Olive stood at the main door, glaring at them. There was no sign of Vivian, who was doubtless in the parlor, trying to smooth things over as best she could with her guests.
Poor Mama, always so afraid of what people would think.
"How did you get out here?" she asked absently.
Savannah started the car and swung it around the circular drive, flinging a wave of crushed shell across the yard. She eased off the accelerator as they headed down beneath the canopy of the live oak.
"Ronnie Peltier gave me a ride." She laughed at that and draped her left arm casually along the open window. "I gave him three rides last night. I figured he owed me."
Laurel blew out a sigh and speared a hand back through her hair. "I wish you wouldn't do that."
"What? Have sex with Ronnie Peltier?"
"Tell me about it. I don't want to hear it, Sister."
"Christ, Baby," Savannah snapped. "You're such a prude. Maybe if you had sex once in a while, you wouldn't be so uptight about it." She barely slowed for the turn onto the bayou road, wheeling out in front of a four-by-four truck and squealing away from it as a horn blasted indignantly. "Maybe you ought to take that long, tall district attorney for a ride. He had a look about him." She smiled slowly, savoring the idea of going a round or two with Stephen Danjermond herself. "I'll bet he's got a ten-inch cock and screws with his eyes open."
"I'm sure I don't care," Laurel grumbled.
"Yeah? Well, I'll bet Vivian cares. A fine, upstanding, well-bred man like Mr. Danjermond. She'd hand you over to him on a platter if she could. Think about it. She could marry you off to a man with money, power, prestige, a big future in politics, and snuff out the last embers of your big scandal all at once. How perfectly neat and tidy and cold-just the way Vivian likes things."
There was nothing for Laurel to say. She had seen Vivian's game for what it was, too, and it didn't bear comment as far as she was concerned. She had no intention of letting her mother manipulate her-except that she already had. The thought struck her like a hammer to the chest. She had gone to Beauvoir to placate Vivian. Nothing that had happened during the course of that visit could be undone. Because of Vivian, Danjermond was interested in her personally and professionally. Because of Vivian, Savannah had caused a scene, and now there was this tension between them, calling to mind the wedge that would forever both bind them together and hold them apart-Ross's abuse.
"I never should have come back," she whispered.
"Baby, don't say that!" Savannah exclaimed, stricken by the thought. She shoved her Ray-Bans on top of her head and stared at her sister, taking her eyes off the road for a full ten seconds. "Don't say that. You needed to come home. I'm going to take care of you, I promise." She changed hands on the steering wheel and reached across to brush her fingers over Laurel 's hair. "That's all I was doing at Beauvoir-taking care of you, protecting you from Vivian. We'll start all over, starting now. It'll just be you and me and Aunt Caroline and Mama Pearl. We won't do anything but have fun. It'll be just like old times."
Laurel caught her sister's hand and kissed it and hung on tight while Savannah 's attention cut back to the road. Just like old times. Old times here are not forgotten… But they should be…
"I-I d-didn't mean for Mama to c-catch me! I-I thought she was g-gone to her m-meeting!" Laurel clutched at her sister, crying, miserable, desperate, her cheek still stinging and burning from the slap of Vivian's hand.
She'd done wrong. Mama was furious with her. Heaven only knew but that she might end up having a spell. And it would be all my fault, Laurel thought. She knew she wasn't supposed to have the pictures of Daddy out in the parlor, 'cause if Mr. Leighton saw them, he wouldn't like it. She winced again as the memory swooped down on her like a hawk…
Vivian stepped into the room with a smile on her face, a smile that vanished as she saw what Laurel was playing with. The photo album, the crawfish tie pin, the bass tie Savannah had stolen out of the boxes for the Lafayette Goodwill. All their little bits of Daddy. They kept them up in Savannah 's room, but just once Laurel had wanted to take them down to the parlor and sit by the window where Daddy had held her on his lap on rainy days and told her funny stories that he made up off the top of his head.
" Laurel, what are you doing?" Vivian asked, drifting across the room. She'd been to her hospital auxiliary meeting. She always wore her double pearls to the hospital auxiliary. They clicked together like teeth chattering as she came toward Laurel, her face turning red beneath her perfect makeup as her gaze settled on the collection of mementos. "Where did you get these things?"
"Um… um…" Laurel 's fingers curled around the edge of the photo album, and she pulled it protectively against her, but it was too late. Vivian jerked the book away from her and gasped.