Prologue
When I was younger, I would see other kids with both mothers and fathers and I would long for my own father. However, whenever I would ask Mommy questions about him she would get this distant look in her eyes. Sometimes she wouldn't say anything and just walk away from me, but other times she would simply assure me that there was nothing she could tell me about my father. It didn't take me very long to realize that remembering him made Mommy sad, and I finally stopped asking questions about the mystery man. Those questions haunted me in my dreams and in my heart until I uncovered the secrets of my family's past. Sometimes, though I wonder if maybe I'd been better off not knowing them. I would still be untouched by how cruel the world could be.
So, it is safe to say that I grew up in a sheltered home with a loving mother and grandparents that absolutely spoiled me rotten. We were the perfect family, Mommy and I, even though she was often working more than spending time with me. That doesn't mean that I was neglected, for Grandmere was always there to take care of me when Mommy couldn't. If the truth be told, I stayed at Grandmere and Grandpere's house more than I stayed at mine and Mommy's. Their home was grand and filled with many rooms to explore, so I was quite amused at their house when I was younger. Over the years, though, I came to appreciate the grand library in Grandpere's office and spent many hours reading book after book on the lounge.
There was one time I had wandered into Grandmere and Grandpere's room when in my early teens and discovered a trunk filled with pictures and paintings. I had pulled them out and scattered them all across the floor so that I could look at them all at once. I could make out pictures of her and Grandpere, Mommy, and Pierre, but there were many of whom I could not identify. I had separated them from the rest and sat them side by side. There was a picture that looked like my grandmere as a little toddler holding onto some older man's hand, but for some reason the little girl didn't remind me of Grandmere. There was a picture of Uncle Pierre with what looked to be his twin, but I couldn't understand why because I had never seen him before. I was picking up a picture of a single young man holding a little girl who was smiling brightly, when Grandmere walked in with a look of shock on her face.
"Why, Amber!" she cried out as her native tongue slipped out a little, "What on earth are you doing?"
I was so worried that I had disappointed Grandmere that I was rendered speechless. She took the picture I had been holding and glanced at it as tears welled up in her eyes.
"Grandmere," I dared to chance a question with her, "who is that man in that picture, and who is he holding."
For a while, she just stared at the picture and her eyes took on a shiny wild look. I didn't think she was going to answer me, so ashamed I began to gather the pictures up. However, Grandmere placed her hand on my wrist and sat down beside me Indian style. I remember feeling so excited at the moment. Grandmere was going to shed some insight on my family history that had mysteriously been cloaked in darkness for so long.
She sat the picture down and picked up the one of the man holding the little girl's hand. "This," she began and took a deep breath, "is my father and my twin sister, Giselle"
"How come I've never met them?" I asked with the innocent curiosity of a child.
"Well, darling, that is because the both passed on before you were born," she answered as tears welled up in her eyes, "My father passed away when I was only sixteen and my sister passed away when we were in our twenties. Your mother met her, but she was too young to remember."
"Mother," Mommy said in such a cold voice that it sent shivers down my spine, "just what are you two doing in here."
"Pearl, honey, we were just looking at some older pictures of… family" Grandmere answered guiltily.
"I thought we had discussed this already," Mommy said angrily, "I was to tell Amber about her family history when I believed she was ready."
I stood up quickly and cried out, "But, Mommy, I am ready! I want to know! I want to learn about our family!"
"You will hear our family history from me when I am good and ready to tell it to you," she answered angrily her voice loudening, "And, as of right now, I do not think you are ready to hear such things! Come along, it's time to go home."
Mommy had taken hold of my upper arm and was practically dragging me out of the bedroom doors while I cried softly at her reprimanding me and Grandmere. It was obvious that Grandmere had been shocked at the intensity of Mommy's anger towards her, because she was just sitting in the floor with this hurt look on her face, while her past still lay scattered in front of her. Mommy and I were at the door about to leave, when I heard Grandmere's soft pitter patter coming down the hall and toward us.
"Pearl, please," she begged, "Don't be angry with me. I just got caught up in old memories. All I showed her was a picture of my father and sister. Please, calm down."
"I'm sorry, Mom," she said as her anger began to cool down. She let go of me and hugged Grandmere gently for several minutes.
"Why don't you and Amber come over Sunday for dinner. I'll cook some of my famous gumbo and I'll make it up to you, okay. How's two o'clock sound?"
"That's fine Mom, but Amber and I have some things we need to do at the house today. We'll see you Sunday," Mommy answered as we left the house.
All the way home, I knew not to say a word to Mommy because she was still upset, but I couldn't help but wonder about all those pictures with people so strange to me in them, and realize that I had been so close to uncovering my family's past, so close to learning our intriguing hidden secrets.
