The question, so abrupt, made Laurène blush. When she’d confided in Aurélien, a few years before, and rested her head against his shoulder to cry, she’d realized that there was comfort in seeking refuge with a man like him. In spite of his age, he appealed to a lot of women. This vague sensation had remained in Laurène’s memory. The consideration that Aurélien had always showed her, the banter they’d both kept up out of fun and habit, the particular way he looked at her, and the manner in which he protected her had made their relationship ambiguous.
Intrigued, Jules was waiting for Laurène’s response and was still looking at her.
“You think it’s a stupid question?”
“No. Not at all. … I was thinking about it. … He can be attractive, yes. …”
“Even to women your age?”
“I don’t know,” Laurène said, prudently. “Maybe Frédérique is not in love with him, but I’m sure she feels some attraction to him.”
“Some attraction,” Jules repeated. “And that’s enough for them!”
“Well, Jules,” Laurène said, softly. “You know your father. This is not the first time he’s had an affair with a woman that young.”
“An affair, yes. But never a real relationship. Never. I’d like to know what this girl has in mind, what she’s looking for.”
“Maybe she doesn’t know. She’s lost, she’s lonesome …”
Jules gave her an indecipherable smile.
“Lost? Her? I don’t think so.”
He looked at Laurène. She was pretty, naïve, pleasant. And he was going to marry her. He should have felt happy. And yet he didn’t.
The following day, the weather finally got better. The thermometer rose to right around freezing, snow started to fall, and the children could go play outside again. Jules was preoccupied wondering what the effect the cold had had on the vines, but spent long moments chatting with his brothers. Aurélien stayed off to the side most of the time but watched everybody with pleasure, not used to seeing Fonteyne invaded like this in the middle of winter.
December twenty-seventh and twenty-eighth were spent that way. Apart from Aurélien, Frédérique basically spoke only with Laurène.
On the twenty-nineth, Jules had to go to Bordeaux, and Pauline went along, looking for ideas for New Year’s Eve. They agreed to meet at a bar downtown at the end of the afternoon. Jules was first to arrive. He sat at a table and ordered hard liquor, something he didn’t do very often. The bartender recognized Jules and said his name as he put the glass in front of him. Almost immediately, a man in his thirties who was sitting not too far from him rose and came over to Jules’s table.
“Your name is Laverzac?” he asked in a voice that Jules found odd.
“Yes. …”
“You’re one of the four sons?”
“Yes.”
“And you live at Fonteyne, right?”
Jules, a bit on the defensive, didn’t answer that last question.
“You need to talk to me?” he asked, calmly.
He could sense the other man’s enmity. A second individual had approached the table and stood in the background, silent. Jules slowly got to his feet.
“There’s a girl living at your place,” the man said. “Frédérique. … She’s my sister.”
“Nice to meet you,” Jules said with a neutral voice.
They were eyeing each other, both conscious of the rising tension.
“What do you want, exactly?” Jules said.
“I’ve heard some very unpleasant things. That your father … is a pretty fresh old man, for example. …”
Jules glanced at the man in the background while saying, “Your sister works for us. With a very decent salary. She’s never talked to us about you, but it doesn’t matter.”
“A decent salary …”
The man, clearly hostile, was chuckling.
“How old is the geezer?”
Jules knew these two men were looking for a fight, but he couldn’t ignore the insult.
“You mean Aurélien Laverzac? You’re going to have to use different language when you talk about him. …”
“You’re a family of bastards!” the man shouted. “All of you! I’m going to set that damn castle of yours on fire when I go get my sister. Laverzac was showing her off in a restaurant the other day, and I won’t let him drag her all over town like some sort of trophy. Is that clear?”
He suddenly grabbed Jules by the coat.
“Do you hear what I’m saying?” he spewed.
Jules yanked himself free of the man’s grasp and hit him.
Pauline drove at breakneck speed as she returned to Fonteyne. She arrived completely frantic and told Aurélien what happened in one breath. Jules was at the police station. Part of the elegant bar had been trashed during the fighting. The bartender, who tried to interfere, was in the hospital.
“Everyone in Bordeaux must know about this by now!” she said.
Aurélien made no comment, took the keys of the Mercedes out of Pauline’s hand, and hurried outside, saying he didn’t need anyone.
He burst inside the central police station, set on taking full advantage of the notoriety of the Laverzac name. He knew the detective who greeted him, and he icily asked why his son was being held. Right away the cop understood that Aurélien was determined to be as hostile as he could. He didn’t wait to take Aurélien to Captain Vanier’s office. There, he wouldn’t shake the captain’s hand and wouldn’t sit down, in spite of the police officer’s conciliatory smile. He listened, stoned-face, to the explanations.
“Aggravated assault, disturbing the peace, material damages, bodily harm, resisting arrest … Fortunately, his alcohol level was fine. He seriously banged up one of his opponents. But he was provoked, some witnesses have said as much, including staff members. Things will be fine.”
Aurélien was looking out the window, seemingly indifferent.
“Your son often get into fights?” Captain Vanier asked.
“Once in a while. … But he rarely disturbs the peace, as you say. …”
“Now we’re going to have to wait and see if the two men file a complaint. It seems as though all of this was over a woman. …”
“We’re the ones filing the complaint, Captain,” Aurélien said. “If I understand correctly, my son was attacked.”
He was quite imposing, with his white hair and regal expression. Vanier knew full well who he was dealing with. Laverzac had friends and contacts everywhere, he was part of the region’s wine growers’ complicated hierarchy, and it was best not to confront such men.
“Now,” Aurélien said. “I’d like to see my son.”
“Of course,” Vanier said. “His deposition was taken. He’s free to go.”
The cop hesitated a second and then added, “I know who you are, Mr. Laverzac, and what you represent. But nobody wins in this sort of situation. Ever.”
Aurélien paid no attention to the comment and asked, blandly, “Where’s my son?”
The captain rose to his feet.
“I’ll take you to him,” he said.
They went down a long hallway, Aurélien following the cop until they reached a small office. Vanier opened the door and told the officer to leave. Jules was sitting on a bench, his back against the wall. He seemed to be okay, apart from gashes on his cheek and eyebrow. His coat was torn to shreds, and he looked worn out.
“I came to take you home,” Aurélien said, simply. “You okay?”
Jules nodded and got up. Vanier looked at them both. As no one was saying anything, he gestured for them to step out of the office.
“Good evening, Captain,” Aurélien said, shaking the cop’s hand.
He and Jules walked past him and crossed the hallway side by side to the exit. When they reached the Mercedes, Jules went to the driver’s side, out of habit. Aurélien gave him the keys.
Jules turned on the engine and said, “Pauline shouldn’t have told you about this. I’m sorry.”
“You’r
e upset because your father came to get you?”
“Oh, no!” Jules said, laughing. “I’m rather flattered. You came to get me twice in high school, remember?”
“Yes. Once in the principal’s office. That time, too, it was because of a fight. … You always were a bit of a mad dog.”
Aurélien chuckled, and then grazed his son’s cheek.
“Does it hurt?”
“Nah.”
“You got them good, I hope?”
“Absolutely!”
“And … what was the fight about? What started it?”
Jules stopped the car at a red light. He turned to his father and said, “One of the guys is Frédérique’s brother.”
A short silence followed, and then Aurélien simply said, “I see. …”
They were now in the outskirts of Bordeaux.
“People are starting to talk,” Jules muttered.
“You have a pretty violent way of making them shut up, don’t you think?”
But Jules didn’t smile.
“I had to, Aurélien. I don’t care if your private life doesn’t win the approval of some losers, but I’m not going to let anyone insult me. Or you.”
Aurélien thought about what Jules had just said.
“You’re not scared of anything, are you?” he finally asked, his voice strange.
“I don’t think so.”
“I used to be like that.”
“And now?”
“Now … getting old and dying scare me.”
Jules was accelerating without realizing it.
“Slow down a bit, will you? Alex will be sorry he didn’t participate in that western-style fight of yours. He loves that kind of stuff, too.”
“Oh, Alex … These days …”
Aurélien glanced at Jules’s profile and said, “You’re not connecting with your brother these days, are you? Me neither. … And what about Frédérique’s brother? What is he like?”
“Nothing. A jerk. The sister is much better! I think he was drunk.”
There was another stretch of silence between them, quite a long one, before Jules said, “Don’t try to meet him, Aurélien. What would you say to him, anyway? Frédérique is an adult, she works for you, and you pay her. There’s nothing more to add.”
Aurélien put a hand on his son’s shoulder.
“You worry too much about me, cowboy. It makes you nervous. You’ll know what you’re doing when you’re my age, okay? Never worry about me. You just don’t need to.”
He looked at Jules with insistence, making sure his message had been conveyed.
“You’ve turned into a fine man, son,” he said.
Dominique was laughing hard and couldn’t get up, and Louis-Marie came over to give her a hand. They’d put on cross-country skis found in the attic. The skis fit them more or less. Pauline, hanging onto Robert, couldn’t finish the climb. Out of breath, her hair in a mess, she was still having plenty of fun.
“How many guests are we having for New Year’s Eve?” asked Robert. He kept Pauline pinned against him, pretending to help her.
“The usual suspects are going to be there,” she said. “Dr. Auber, the notary, Antoine and Marie …”
“And Jules and Laurène’s wedding will be announced!” Dominique added.
Pauline was now leaning against a tree and began to applaud.
“Hey Laurène!” she said. “Are you sure you want to be married to a criminal?”
“That’s right,” Louis-Marie added. “My little brother is one violent dude!”
Robert, who was standing next to Jules, said, “A bout with bronchitis, a slap in the face, a bar fight, a stay at the police station, and all that in one week. That must be a record or something!”
Jules shrugged and gestured at everybody to get going.
“There’s a great view up there, just a bit farther,” he said.
“Up there?” Pauline said. “I can’t climb anymore. …”
Robert proposed to go back down with her, while Louis-Marie, happy and carefree, hit the trail with the others. Robert watched the struggle as they went up the steep hill.
“We can never enjoy our time with family too much. …” he said, in a bizarre tone of voice.
Then he turned to Pauline and stared at her. He adored what he saw: the smile, the eyes, the blonde curls escaping the wool hat.
“You are truly beautiful. …”
This was the first time they’d been alone. Only Jules’s dog, Botty, tired from struggling in the soft snow, had remained with them. Robert petted him absentmindedly, his eyes still on Pauline.
“We’ll tell them that we got lost in the woods for an hour?”
He smiled at his own bitter joke, but Pauline replied, “Even in the woods, Jules would find us. As you know, he has a knack for running into people who are trying to hide. Remember your exploits with Laurène in the stable?”
Annoyed, Robert raised his shoulders.
“Pauline … you have scruples now?”
She gave him a tender smile and said, “It’s not that. But each time we see each other, you have this expression … You’re torn between your guilt and your impulses, and you’re not much fun. …”
“When you’re not around,” Robert said, “I manage to forget about you a bit. … And then I see you and I’m back at it, like some sort of addict. And you married Louis-Marie, and so it’s going to be like this every summer, every Christmas, forever. … Unless I completely stay away from my family. You understand?”
She turned to the side muttering, “You’re overreacting.”
“I’m not! And if I try to keep my distance, you flirt with me. Why? All this is so hard for me, Pauline. …”
He took her by the shoulders, gently, and she looked him right in the eyes.
“You’re handsome,” she said, “I’m attracted to you, but things will never go further between the two of us. I can’t do anything about it. Come on, now. Let’s go back. Anyway, it’s much too cold out to make love.”
She kissed him softly on the mouth, then started down the trail toward Fonteyne.
* * *
Toward the end of the day, Jules went down to the cellar to fetch the bottles that Aurélien had selected for New Year’s Eve. He was very surprised to find Frédérique walking along the wine racks, hands buried in her pockets. He’d completely forgotten about her, as no one had invited her to come along on their cross-country skiing outing.
“Are you in the middle of inventory?” he asked, cheerfully.
“I just like hanging out in the cellar,” she said. “Don’t worry about your inheritance.”
He shrugged and spun on his heels.
“Jules,” she said, “what did my brother say to you, exactly?”
“Stupid stuff,” Jules said. “I didn’t even listen to it all. He thinks that you’re Aurélien’s lover and he doesn’t like it. I understand. … But one day he’s going to get drunk and come over here to cause trouble. I don’t really care, but you …”
He stopped speaking. Frédérique’s eyes were glistening, and a tear was streaming down her cheek. A bit embarrassed, he hesitated.
“Something the matter?” he asked.
In spite of everything, he felt sympathetic toward her.
“Frédérique …”
She was crying even more now, standing in front of Jules, feeling helpless. She pushed the strands of hair back from her face. Fully erect, she didn’t try to hide her pain.
“What kind of relationship do you have with your brother?” he asked, softly.
“A pretty good one. He drinks too much, but he has his reasons. … I don’t see him often.”
Frédérique’s voice was unsteady from sobbing. Without thinking, Jules took her in his arms. She abandoned herself there for a moment, her head against Jules’s jacket. Then she stepped away from him.
“I’m not scared of anything, you know,” she said. “I’m not afraid of any of you, or my brother, or Aurélien. The only thin
g I’m afraid of is the passage of time.”
Aurélien is right, Jules thought. She really is beautiful. …
Jules had always been sensitive to the sight of a sad woman. But it was hard for him to console Frédérique after having shown her so much hostility. Watching her now, he remembered why he’d been attracted to her a few months before. Beautiful, yes, both timid and determined, but also perhaps a bit fragile.
“Would you like me to call Aurélien?” he asked.
“No! Leave him alone! And leave me alone, too!”
She turned around and walked away. Perplexed and feeling very ill at ease, Jules went back to Fonteyne. The cheerful raucous in the main living room startled him. Laurène came to him and took him lovingly by the arm. Jules felt bad, as he suddenly found her a bit dull. He heard the front door closing. When Frédérique walked into the living room, no one could’ve guessed she’d been crying. She looked very calm, if just a little sad. She headed for Aurélien and sat next to him, as though needing to take refuge. Pensive, Jules’s eyes didn’t leave her the entire time.
“My dear brother-in-law,” Pauline whispered. “You’re an interesting man to spy on. …”
Surprised, Jules broke into his short and light laughter.
“We always have to be on our guard around you, Pauline, don’t we?” he asked between his teeth.
They didn’t need to add anything, as Pauline always understood what he meant. Isolated from the general conversation, they looked at each other, smiling.
“We were all wrong about her,” Pauline said. “We won’t be able to get rid of Frédérique easily. She has one hell of a personality.”
Now serious, Jules nodded.
“We’re going to have to be careful,” he said.
“Especially you, my dear brother-in-law. …”
Pauline walked away, an amused look on her face, and Jules suddenly felt all alone. He saw that his father had put an arm around Frédérique’s shoulder, as she sat on the chesterfield. He forced himself to smile and went over to pour them something to drink. Laurène sat on the other side of Aurélien.
“This past year was fabulous,” Aurélien said, setting down his glass of wine.
He looked at his son with obvious tenderness.
“And a new year is just about to start,” he continued. “Another great year for our wines, right, son?”
A Bordeaux Dynasty: A Novel Page 29
