He's over the moon,' as he says, Carole said with a smile, and then winced at a wave of nausea. I'd better get off, but I just wanted to let you know, in case you hear it via the grapevine. In some ways, London was a small town, and so was New York, but he was in neither of those places anymore. He'd been banished.
The grapevine doesn't reach Shelburne Falls, he informed her. I probably wouldn't have heard it till I got back to London.
When is that going to be?
I don't know yet. He sounded vague, but he had nothing else to say to her. She had dropped her news on him and now he needed to digest it. Take care of yourself, Carole. I'll call you one of these days. But he wasn't so sure he would now. There was nothing left to argue about, or to say. She was getting married, she was having a kid. And he had his own life to get on with. It was the, first time he had really felt that, and when he hung up, he realized that it had a lot to do with Sarah. In an odd, subtle way, reading the journals had really changed him. And he was still thinking about that, when the phone rang again, and he figured it was Carole.
Hi, Carole, he said. What now? Twins? He didn't sound overly thrilled as he answered, but the voice was not the one he expected.
It's me. Francesca. Am I interrupting something? She sounded puzzled and he groaned.
I'm batting a thousand tonight. My ex-wife just called, and when I answered the phone I said Hi, Francesca.' Now you called, and I thought it was Carole calling back. Anyway, she just called me with another news flash. He sounded strangely unemotional about it, which surprised him. It wasn't at all like his reaction when she called to tell him she was getting married, and he had sat and talked to Francesca.
Is she leaving her boyfriend? Francesca asked him with interest.
No, quite the contrary. They're having a baby. Apparently she'll be six months pregnant when they get married. Very modern.
How do you feel about that? she asked kindly, and he thought about it.
I think it's hell finding a wedding dress in a case like that, and it's better if you do it a little sooner. Maybe even before you get knocked up, just to be old-fashioned. He wa-o teasing her a little bit, and she wasn't sure if he was hysterical or indifferent to what Carole had told him. And he wasn't entirely sure either.
I'm serious, Charlie. How are you?
How am I? He thought about it for a long time and then sighed. Kind of pissed off, kind of disappointed. I wish we'd had a kid, but we didn't. And if I were going to be honest about it, I'd admit we didn't want to. I really didn't want kids with her, and she really didn't want them with me. Maybe it was our own way of acknowledging that something was wrong even before she found Simon. I guess in a funny way, I feel free now. It's definitely over and I know it. She's not coming back. She's his now. I kind of hurt and I kind of don't. And after reading Sarah's journals, I really want a kid of my own now ' or maybe Monique did that. But that's what I feel. And you know what else? He sounded fairly chipper, and she liked what he was saying.
What else? she asked softly. It was late, and Monique was sleeping.
I miss you. I was hoping it was you when Carole called. I was dying to know what you thought of Sarah's journals.
That's why I called you. I've been sitting here crying my eyes out all night reading about what Edward did to her, and all those babies that died. How did the poor woman stand it?
I told you, he said proudly, she was gutsy. So are you. So am I. We can make it. We've all been through a lot of stuff but this is only the beginning. After reading Sarah's journals, he really felt that. Where are you now? he asked, remembering each step of the way he had come. He envied her the fact that she was just starting. But he could imagine reading them all over again one day, a long time after he finished, and after he'd given them to Gladys Palmer.
She's on the ship.
It only gets better. It was like a secret club they shared, and she was so grateful to him for letting her read them. But he'd had another idea. He'd been thinking about it ever since he saw her. But he wasn't sure if she was ready. How about a real date one of these days? A real dinner, just the two of us. I'll pay for the sitter.
You don't have to do that. She smiled, and she felt she owed him something for letting her read Sarah's journals. I'd love to.
Saturday? He sounded ecstatic and surprised. He didn't think she would accept it.
Saturday, she said.
I'll pick you up at eight. Happy reading. And they hung up then. It had been a long day, a long night. Sarah had had two babies. Carole was having another. And he had a date with Francesca. He wanted to kick his heels up and laugh when he thought about it.
Chapter 22
CHARLIE PICKED FRANCESCA up at eight on Saturday, and she looked beautiful. She was wearing a plain black dress with a string of pearls, and her hair hung straight and sleek to her shoulders. It was a great look for her, and Charlie's heart gave a little leap when Monique gave him a woeful look, sitting in her bedroom with the sitter. She wasn't happy not to be included. But her mother had explained very nicely to her that sometimes grown-ups just need to be together. Monique said she thought it was a stupid rule, and she hoped they never did it again. Besides, the baby-sitter was ugly. But she seemed to be managing, playing Monopoly and watching TV when her mother and Charlie left for dinner.
He took her to Andiamo in Bernardston, and after dinner they went dancing. It was definitely a real date, and for the first time since he had known Francesca she didn't act as though she were going to run out the door every five minutes when they were alone. And he couldn't help wondering what had happened.
I don't know. I'm growing up, I guess, she said when he commented on it. Sometimes I even get a little tired of my war wounds. Wearing scars around like jewelry gets a little boring, she said, and he was impressed. He wondered if the journals had done it, or simply time. Maybe she was healing. And then she surprised him by saying she was going to Paris that week. Her lawyer had called, and she and Pierre were selling their last piece of property and she had to sign all the papers.
Can't they send them to you? Charlie said, looking surprised. It seems like a long way to go just to sign some papers.
They want me to do it in person. Pierre doesn't want me to be able to claim that he forced me, or there was fraud involved, or I didn't understand, not that I would. I guess he figures that if we do it face-to-face there won't be any misunderstanding.
I hope he's paying for the trip, Charlie said bluntly, but she smiled.
It'll come out of my profits. I'm not so worried about that. I'm more worried about seeing him, and the little mother. It used to make me sick just seeing them, now I'm not so sure. Maybe it'll be a good test. Maybe I don't care as much as I used to think I did. Sometimes I wonder. She looked pensive as she looked at him. Just in the short time they had known each other, he could tell that she was changing.
Are you scared going to Paris this time? he asked honestly as he reached out and took her hand. It was hard to go back sometimes. In a way, as much as he wanted to return, he was dreading London.
I'm a little bit scared, she confessed sheepishly.But I won't be gone long. I'm leaving Monday, and I'll be back on Friday. As long as I'm going, I want to see a few friends, do a little shopping.
Are you taking Monique with you? he asked, concerned about both of them. He could see that the trip was going to be a challenge.
She has school, and it's better if she isn't there for this. I don't want her to feel pulled between us. She's staying with a friend from school.
He nodded. I'll call her.
She'd like that, she said, and then they danced for a little bit, and neither of them said anything. He loved holding her in his arms, but didn't dare do more than that, though he would have liked to. But he could still sense she wasn't ready. And he wasn't so sure he was either. A lot of things had gone through his mind in the last few days, a lot of changes, a lot of new ideas, like wanting children, and not being quite as angry at Carole. He wasn't sur
e he was angry at all anymore. He wished her well. He just wished he had as much in his life as she did. like Sarah and Francois.
They talked about the journals on the way home, and the house, and he wished he could find the plans that Francois had worked on. For him, that would have been really exciting. But the journals were even better. And when they got to Francesca's door, he walked her inside and she paid the sitter. Monique was sound asleep by then, and it was nice being alone with her in the silence.
I'm going to miss you when you're away, he said, and meant it. I like talking to you. He hadn't had a friend in a long time, and lately, she had been one. He didn't know yet what more she would be, but even having someone to talk to was rare and precious.
I'll miss you too, she said softly. I'll call you from Paris. He hoped she would, and she told him where she was staying. It was a small hotel on the Left Bank, and it conjured up dreams for him. And he wished he could go there with her. It would have been so romantic, and he could have supported her when she saw her ex-husband. Like Fran+oois protecting Sarah from Edward. He said as much to her, and they both laughed at the image. You'd make a good knight in shining armor, she said gently, standing very near him.
I think I'm a little rusty, he said, aching to kiss her. But he took her hand and kissed her fingers instead, remembering Francois's gesture. Take care of yourself, he said. He knew it was time to go, before he did something foolish. And as he drove away, she watched him from the window.
He read a little bit of the journals again that night but most of it was about the house, and everything they'd done to it that winter. And he fell asleep dreaming of Francesca.
The next day, he thought of dropping by to see Francesca and Monique, but in the end, he didn't. He took Mrs. Palmer to lunch instead, and had to fight himself not to tell her about the journals. But he wanted to let Francesca finish them before he turned them over. And Gladys Palmer was happy for the attention, and there was plenty to talk about. He wanted to tell her about Carole, and Francesca.
But as the day wore on, all Charlie could think about was Francesca. He called to see if she and Monique could have dinner with him, but they were out all afternoon, they had gone ice-skating, and when he finally reached them they had already eaten. But Francesca sounded touched that he had called her. She was sounding wistful these days, and he suspected she was worried about her trip to Paris in the morning. She was leaving after she dropped Monique off at school, and he offered to take her to the airport but she had already made other arrangements.
I'll call you from Paris, she promised again, and he hoped she meant it. He felt like a kid being abandoned.
Good luck, he said before they hung up, and she thanked him and told him to say hi to Sarah. He wished he could, and that night, as always, he listened but heard nothing.
The week crawled by interminably, and Charlie felt distracted. He tried to do some work, started a painting, read a little more in Sarah's journal, and looked at all the architectural magazines he could lay his hands on. He called Monique a couple of times, but heard nothing from Francesca, until Thursday. And then, finally, she called him.
How did it go?
Great. He's still a jerk, but I made a lot of money. She laughed into the phone, and she sounded terrific. And the little Olympic champion is getting fatter by the minute. Pierre hates fat women.
It serves him right. I hope she weighs three hundred pounds by the next Olympics. She laughed again, but there was something else in her voice, and he couldn't tell what it was. It was morning for him, and afternoon for her. And she was catching the plane to Boston in a few hours. She hadn't been in a rush to call him. Can I pick you up tomorrow, at the airport? he offered, and she hesitated, and then accepted.
That's a long drive for you, isn't it?
I think I can make it. I'll get the coach out and hire a couple of Indian guides. I'll be there on Sunday.
Okay, okay, she said, and then seemed to be in a hurry. I have to pack. I'll see you tomorrow. She was due in at noon, local time, on Friday.
I'll be there, he assured her. And he felt like a kid the next day, as he drove to Boston. What if she never wanted more than to be friends with him? What if she stayed scared forever? ' what if Sarah had never gotten over Edward? ' he was beginning to feel as though he should have been meeting her in buckskins and eagle feathers, and the thought of that amused him.
She went through customs before he could get to her, and it was one o'clock before she came through the gate and saw him. She looked better than ever. She was wearing a bright red coat she'd bought at Dior, and she'd had her hair cut. She looked very French and very striking.
It's great to see you, he said, and walked swiftly beside her and carried her bags to the garage, and as soon as they found his car, they set off toward Deer-field. It was odd to think of how long it had taken Sarah two hundred years before. Four days, as opposed to an hour and ten minutes. And another ten to Shelburne Falls. They chatted easily on the trip, and she said she'd finished the first journal. They talked about it for a while, and she asked him if he'd read any more that week, but he looked at her sheepishly and shook his head. I was too nervous, he admitted.
Why? She seemed surprised, and as he drove, he was honest with her.
I kept thinking about you. I didn't want him to hurt you.
I'm not sure he can anymore, she said as she looked out the window. That's the funny thing. I haven't seen him for a long time, but somehow I kept endowing him with these magic powers to ruin my life. He almost did. But I don't know what happened since the last time I saw him. Something changed that. He's just this very self-centered, not quite so good-looking French guy I used to be in love with. And yes, he hurt me a lot, but I think I'm past it. It really surprised me.
You're free now, he said gently. I think that's what's happened to me with Carole. I haven't seen her, but how involved can you be with a woman who's marrying someone else and having his kid ' and never wanted mine ' it's kind of a losing proposition. That was the difference. They were losers. Pierre and Carol had screwed things up, or maybe they'd just gotten what they wanted and didn't have. But Francesca and Charlie wanted to be winners.
Sarah had won the prize in the end. She had found it all with Fran+oois, once she had the courage to leave Edward. And Francesca nodded in agreement and they both fell silent as he drove her to her house, and helped her with her bags. He looked down at her in the doorway with a question.
When am I going to see you? he asked pointedly and she looked him straight in the eye with a small smile, but said nothing. How about dinner with your daughter tomorrow night? he suggested, not wanting to pounce on her too quickly, although he would have liked to.
She's going to a sleep-over birthday party, Francesca said, feeling slightly nervous.
Can I make you dinner at my house? he asked, and she nodded. It was a little scary. For both of them. But Sarah would be there, at least in spirit. And Charlie kissed her on the cheek then. She was a very different woman now than the one he had first met. She was cautious, hurt, still frightened sometimes, but she was no longer bitter, angry, or destroyed by what had happened. And neither was Charlie. I'll pick you up at seven, he said, and turned to leave and she thanked him for the ride from Boston.
And then he went back to his house, and out of sheer nervousness, he picked up the last of the journals. He had left them comfortably settled in their new house, and Francois had not ridden out with the Army in a long time, but Sarah continued to report on the situation in the West between the Shawnees and the Miamis and the encroaching white settlers. It did nothing but worsen.
And in the summer of 1793, a year after Fran+ooise was born, they had another baby. Another little girl this time, and she came almost as quickly as the last one. And as Charlie read the journals, he realized she had been born right in the bedroom he slept in. They had named her Marie-Ange because Sarah said she looked like an angel.
Sarah was ecstatic with her little family
, and with the fact that Francois wasn't riding with the Army, and hadn't in ages. He kept improving on the house, and she recorded all the architectural details in her journals. It made Charlie want to pore over the house again and find every nook and cranny she spoke of. He suspected that most of the details she described would still be there.
She also wrote that Colonel Stockbridge died that same year, and was mourned by all who knew him. And the new commandant was far more ambitious. He was a friend of General Wayne's, who was the new commander of the Western Army, and had already been spending a year drilling troops to go after Little Turtle. But so far, nothing had happened since General St. Clair had retired in disgrace after his crushing defeat the last time.
It was a time for her family, and Sarah sounded peaceful but busy and she wrote less and less often in her journals. It seemed as though she had her hands full with three young children, the farm, and her husband.
But in the fall of 1793, Sarah mentioned with concern that one of the Iroquois, Big Tree, a friend of Fran+oois's had attempted peace talks with the Shawnees again, and been rejected. The problem was that the Shawnees had previously allied themselves with the British, so that when the British were defeated, the American Army felt that the Shawnees in the Ohio territory should disappear with them, relinquishing their land to the settlers. But the Shawnees did not wish to go down in flames with the British, and were now refusing to give up their land, and demanding a fifty-thousand-dollar repayment for it and a ten-thousand-dollar annual annuity, which was out of the question. It was unheard of. And General Wayne was not listening. Not even for a minute.
He continued to train his troops at Fort Washington, and Forts Recovery and Greenville in Ohio, through that winter. Nothing was going to sway him, and everyone agreed by then. Blue Jacket and Little Turtle, their two proudest warriors, had to be defeated. But so far no one had succeeded.
The Ghost Page 33
