by Zuri Day
After checking work emails and getting updates from her sources about a couple stories for next week, Roz was happy to call it a day. After yesterday’s unexpected whirlwind with no rest and little food, she looked forward to going home, having a simple meal delivered and finding something mindless to watch on TV.
Five minutes into her ride home, all that changed.
“Pierre, hi. I’m glad you called.”
“Hey, Roz.”
“How was your weekend?”
“Pretty brutal.”
Roz bit her lip as her heart cracked a little bit.
“Can you come over?” Pierre asked.
“Sure. When?”
“Right now. Lizzy’s here. I told her. She has questions.”
“I’m on my way.”
Roz made it across town in record time, pulled into one of the guest parking spaces and hurried across the courtyard. She’d wanted to meet Pierre’s sister since they’d started dating. But not under these circumstances.
Pierre met her at the door and without a word pulled her into his arms. She felt his erratic heartbeat, and how it calmed as he held her and took a couple deep breaths.
“Thanks for coming,” he whispered.
“Of course.”
He took her hand. “Come on. Lizzy’s in here.”
Roz walked in, expecting to see a female version of Pierre. Instead she found a petite cocoa cutie with bright, haunting eyes, a short, naturally curly hairstyle and curves everywhere.
“Roz, this is my sister, Lisette.”
Lisette stood. “Hi.”
Instinctively, Roz bypassed a handshake for a hug. “I’ve heard so much about you,” she said.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“Actually, a cup of tea would be wonderful.”
Both women watched Pierre reach for a set of keys on a silver tray.
Lisette walked over and gave him a hug, before continuing to the kitchen. “I love you, Pear.”
“I love you, Lizzy.”
“Heading out?” Roz asked him.
“Going to check on things at the restaurant. Haven’t been in for a couple days. And even when I was there, I wasn’t there. Will you stay until I get back?”
Roz nodded. “As long as you want.”
She watched him leave, then turned and went to the kitchen. Lisette had found a large container with a wide selection of teas on the counter. She filled a kettle with water and headed for the cabinets.
“Can I help?”
“You can see if there is anything resembling a lemon in the fridge, but I doubt it.” Lisette shook her head as she opened more cabinets. “A chef who owns a restaurant should keep food in the house.”
Roz smiled. “You would think. Nope, nothing resembling a lemon, or any other type of citrus.”
“I found sugar.”
“That’ll be fine.”
The kettle whistled. Lisette poured water into two mugs. The ladies opened their tea preferences.
“How’d you meet her?”
The question, asked in a soft but determined voice, came as Roz stirred in sugar.
“From the beginning, or once I reached LA?”
“Everything. Pierre told me what happened, but I want to hear it from you.”
They sat on the chairs Pierre and Lisette had used earlier to help bring him back from his drunken binge. Roz did as Lisette requested, starting with her experience of losing Aaron and the family’s relief when he was found, to Alana’s home in LA and the discovery that Pierre and Lisette had a sister. Lisette listened intently, asked few questions.
“For your mother to be found alive never entered my mind,” Roz finished. “But once it was discovered, I had to tell Pierre and knew he would tell you.”
“He didn’t want to, thought it would be too devastating.”
“Is it?”
“Honestly, I don’t know what it is. Or how to feel. I used to dream of her coming back. I’d tell myself that she wasn’t dead, make up some crazy reason she’d been delayed—kidnapped, in a coma, amnesia. But I’d daydream in class that any minute she was going to appear in the doorway, that I’d run into her outstretched arms and she’d give me the biggest hug.”
Lisette’s smile was bittersweet.
“Now getting that hug is possible,” Roz murmured.
“And I don’t know if I want it.” Lisette looked contemplative as she sipped her tea. “Although I’m sure some of that is Pierre’s influence. Even back then he was so angry at Mom for leaving.”
“He’s still angry.”
“Oh, he’s much angrier now. To know she’s alive and knows about us and never reached out?”
“And you?”
“I’m angry, hurt. But also curious, and the more the reality of the news sinks in, grateful, even a little bit happy. But I have so many questions, even basic ones, like what is she like?”
“She’s very pretty,” Roz began, narrowing her eyes as she remembered the visit. “Poised. Guarded, as you might expect. Very put together.”
“Wow. That does not sound like Mom at all.”
Lisette asked and Roz shared everything else she could, about the house, Sherman Oaks and her glimpse of Lisette’s half sister.
“I think I want to meet her,” Lisette said.
“Why?”
Both women turned to see Pierre in the doorway. Neither had heard him come in.
Chapter 20
“I think that’s a fair question,” Roz said, breaking the silence. “Continuing to talk about and share all of what you’re feeling will probably be good for both of you. Getting it all out, whether it’s anger or sadness or grief...”
“She’s right, brother.”
“Okay, let’s talk.”
Roz eased off the high bar chair. “I can leave if you want.”
“No.” Sister and brother spoke as one.
“Okay, but can we go into the other room and get comfy?”
The three headed into a formal sitting room with an oversize couch, velvet recliner and bright yellow beanbag chair that were all decidedly informal. Lisette plopped on the beanbag, squirming around until it fitted her body. Pierre chose the couch. Roz sat there, too.
Pierre started right in. “She abandoned you, Lizzy. Why would you want to meet a woman who could do that?”
“Why not? If anything, I deserve answers to the questions I’ve harbored for all these years. Why she did it. How she could do it. What was her life like before then? How is it now? Who is this man she left us to marry. Who is my half sister?”
“I wonder about all of those things, too. But is learning the truth of any of it going to change what happened? No. And as far as I’m concerned there is no answer, no justification for abandoning your kids. No matter what.”
“Maybe not, but I want to hear her side of it.” Lisette paused, quickly turning to Roz. “What about Grand-Mère? What happened to her?”
Pierre’s intense gaze said he wanted to know that answer, too.
“She died there, at the house.”
Pierre looked up. “They found her?”
“Your mother found her, but either couldn’t save her or it was too late to even try, which is what she said led to the breakdown. Why she was treated for her injuries and then transferred to a mental hospital.”
“I can understand that,” Lisette said, slowly nodding. “Finding someone you love under those traumatic conditions could break anyone.”
Pierre rested his head against the back of the couch and stared at the ceiling. “She was well enough to meet a man, move with him to LA and get married. If she could do that, she could have come back and gotten us.”
Lisette rocked the beanbag into more of a chair shape. “Maybe that’s what she intended. Maybe she had ever
y intention of coming back and something happened?”
“Yes, something happened. She got pregnant and they had a child. Family complete. No need to return for the kids she left behind.”
“It’s totally messed up what she did,” Lisette agreed. “A horrible mother, selfishly creating another life and leaving us to fend for ourselves.”
Pierre nodded. “Those are the facts.”
“Here we thought she was dead, and all this time she’s known where we are, followed our lives via internet, while she created a different one for herself.”
“Exactly.”
“If she were dead, we’d never get the chance to tell her how those actions affected us. The permanent scars that those who are abandoned constantly carry. If she were dead...” Lisette’s tone shifted from forceful to reflective. “We couldn’t tell her anything. We’d spend our entire lives without answers, two motherless children all alone in the world.”
Except for her the room was quiet, completely still.
“But she’s not dead. And no matter the circumstances, we are not motherless. Yes, I am angry, hurt, disappointed, disillusioned. I will never forget what she did back then. But I can forgive her, and have some type of relationship with who she is now. In all my years of therapy, and education in psychology since then, the goal is always to heal. To be whole. That happens in different ways for different people. For me, I think reconnecting with my mom will help me continue to get better. What about you, Pierre?”
He shook his head. “I’m good.”
They continued to talk. Roz had pizza delivered. Lisette decided that rather than fly back to Austin, she’d drive her rental. When Pierre resisted the idea and said she should spend the night, she assured him that the time to think and process all she’d learned would be therapeutic. Roz offered her continued support and, if needed, to be a listening ear.
“Still want me to stay?” Roz asked when Lisette was gone.
Pierre nodded, pulled her to him on the couch, but remained quiet.
“Hey, babe, while you have time with your thoughts I’ll go take a shower. A last-minute assignment in Shreveport made for a late night and long day. Plus I need to call my neighbor to see if she’ll feed Banner and take him for his walk. I’ll see you when you come upstairs.” She leaned over and gave him a gentle kiss.
He wasn’t downstairs long. Roz found out when she felt his hardness press against her softness and a hand slide the loofah sponge down her back. They made love there, amid cascading water that, along with their bodies, refreshed their minds and lightened their hearts. Later, she lay with her head against his chest, wearing one of his oversize T-shirts as she idly rubbed his skin.
“I’m proud of you, Pierre,” she whispered. “You and Lisette think very differently, and while speaking your opinion, you didn’t try and change her mind. As hard as this is for you, there are some who would have broken under this kind of news, this much pressure. You’re handling it beautifully, Pierre, showing that you are a strong, intelligent, compassionate man.”
“Don’t give me too much credit,” he answered. He adjusted his pillow, nestled down to sleep. “Today went okay. But there’s always tomorrow.”
Chapter 21
Considering last week’s life-changing events, Roz was thankful the remainder of this week was almost normal. The businessman/rapper article received a huge response and was picked up by the Associated Press, always a good thing. She and Pierre had been together every night, at his house or hers. Pleasurable, but exhausting. Back-to-back parties at his restaurant would keep Pierre’s hands full. Roz often dreaded a weekend without plans, but she looked forward to doing this Friday what she’d planned on Tuesday before Pierre called. After a quick trip to the mall, and a stop at her favorite Italian restaurant, Roz headed home. Halfway there, her phone rang. She looked at the dash and saw a number she didn’t recognize.
“Roz Arnaud.”
“Hi, Roz. It’s Lisette.”
“Lisette, hi. How are you?”
“Okay, considering.”
“I’m glad you called. What’s going on?”
“It’s about my grandmother, Grand-Mère Juliette. I was thinking about the person who found my mom, and was wondering if those same resources could be used to try and find my grandmother’s body and give her a proper goodbye.”
“I would be more than happy to ask him, and I’m sure he’d help. But we’d need something from either you or Pierre for a positive match.”
“A DNA sample?”
“That’s correct. It’s fairly easy to get these days. I could have Flint overnight you a kit. The instructions are simple and right on the box. Then you’d overnight back the results and we’d be off to the races.”
“Sure, I can do that, no problem.”
“Then just text me your address and other contact information, email, phone number, and we’ll get it started.”
“Thanks, Roz. That means a lot.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I’m glad you two are dating. I’m worried about Pierre.”
“His reaction?”
“That, too, but especially how I found him one day passed out in the bathroom.”
“Oh, no!”
“He probably wouldn’t want me to tell you, okay? So you don’t know. But when I arrived last Monday, that’s where he was. With an empty vodka bottle beneath his bed.”
“I’ve never seen him drink hard liquor.”
“Which is probably why the night didn’t go so well. But that’s only part of it. I came up because days went by and I couldn’t reach him. We always take each other’s calls. Now, knowing why he was upset, and seeing how much animosity he still has after all these years...it scares me.”
“Lisette...or should I call you Lizzy?”
“No! Sorry, but except for my brother I hate that name.”
Roz laughed.
“Seriously, he is the only one who can call me Lizzy and I am the only one who can call him Pear.”
“How’d that nickname come about?”
“Because when I was little, I couldn’t say Pierre. Pear is the closest I could get.”
“It’s understandable that you’d be concerned for your brother. It’s been the two of you against the world practically all of your life. From the outside looking in, I might see things a bit differently.”
“You’re not worried?”
“I believe Pierre is a very strong man who can get through anything, even this. Have you considered all of this from his perspective? A fifteen-year-old who promised his mom he’d look after his younger sister until she arrived? Except she never did. Pierre has succeeded beyond anyone’s expectations, perhaps even his own. He overcame extreme difficulties to do that. Your mother’s absence was a huge part of the hardship.
“You were younger. Adjustment was easier. You remember less, didn’t see or understand as much. I believe at some point Pierre will come around, and at the very least will want to meet your mom. But right now, he’s working through his anger at his own pace. We should give him room and time to do that.”
“I agree. Thanks, Roz.”
“You’re welcome.”
“It was good to meet you. I’m glad you’re in his life.”
“Well, speaking of, he’s calling now. I can call you later if you’d like.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
“Okay. Bye.” Roz switched the call. “Hey, babe!”
“What are you doing tonight?”
“Hopefully nothing, even though I know Stefanie might be home this weekend and drag me out with her. If so, do you want us to stop by the restaurant?”
“No.”
“Okay...” Her response was long and drawn out, clearly a question.
“You want to know why?”
“Sure.”
“Because we’re going to Texas.”
“We are?”
“Yes. It’s the restaurant New Orleans’s twenty-fifth anniversary.”
“Your mentor, Marc?”
“I got a call from a guy named Ennis, the restaurant manager, who asked if I’d come down and surprise him. Even before he finished asking I was in.”
“Pierre, that’s fabulous. What about your own restaurant, though?”
“That’s the one good thing that came from this week’s bad news. Riviera proved that he can handle the kitchen as well as me. I can expand the business, do some other things now that I know I have a solid second.”
Three hours later, Roz and Pierre arrived in Houston by private plane. What the staff thought of Pierre was evident in how they treated him, starting with being picked up in a stretch limousine and put up at a five-star hotel. He and Roz stopped at the hotel only long enough to drop off their luggage and then continued to the restaurant.
“Lots of memories from this place,” Pierre stated, as they pulled out of the parking lot and into Friday night traffic.
“Said with such nostalgia. Weren’t you just here? Your restaurant hasn’t even been open six months.”
“Oh, no. It’s been about two years since I worked at New Orleans. Spent a year in culinary school and almost a year in New York and back home. There was a lot of time spent behind the scenes before those doors opened in July.”
“I am so impressed with everything about you. The title of your restaurant is definitely misleading.”
He leaned toward her. “No, even hard is easy when it’s your passion.” He ran a hand down the side of her face, neck and lower, to where a hint of cleavage was exposed. “Later tonight, I’ll show you exactly what I mean.”
Ennis, the New Orleans restaurant manager, called and reviewed the evening’s program. Roz was surprised to learn that even she would play a part in the surprise. When they arrived, Pierre was whisked in back, while she was taken into the main dining area and introduced to some of the staff, then was seated in an area reserved for friends and past employees. Marc arrived with an entourage of family and immediately became the life of the party. He had a no-nonsense way about him, with a wry sense of humor beneath the surly facade.
