“No. I can’t win this one. Believe me, I know. She is so blind to his faults.” He looked apologetically at Sabrina but she didn’t seem to mind. She knew what Jon was, better than anyone. “The more I would seek her out, the more she would run to him.” He was right, but Sabrina couldn’t bear the thought.
“How dumb can she be?”
“Very. It’s called youth. She’ll grow up.”
“And then?”
He was philosophical as he shrugged. “She’ll probably marry Jon. That’s how it goes sometimes.”
“Don’t you care?”
“Of course I do. But there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it. I saw that when I went to New York. That’s why I was so depressed and moped around for weeks after that.” He smiled sheepishly and she was touched that he would admit the truth so openly to her. “But there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it. I’m beaten in this. He’s a very convincing, insidious young man, and she believes every word he says, superficially at least. Deep down, I think she has tremendous misgivings and suspicions about him, even now, he lies to her constantly about his other girls, and she pretends to herself that she believes what he says. But I think there’s a part of her that is never convinced. She’s not old enough to trust her instincts and listen to those voices yet. She will one day.” He looked sadly down at Sabrina. “Probably long after they’re married and have two kids. That’s just the way life is sometimes.”
“And what about you?” That was her main concern. If Arden was that dumb, as far as she was concerned she deserved what she got. And Jon could take care of himself. But Antoine … “What do you wind up with in all this?”
“A small scar,” he smiled, “and a valuable lesson learned. Besides, I have other fish to fry. We have a business to run here, and I want to go back to Europe this spring.”
But when he did, he was even more depressed. He was absolutely certain that there was going to be a war. Hitler was growing far too powerful and there was unrest everywhere. He and André discussed it for weeks when he came back, and for once even André was afraid.
“And do you know what I most fear?” he admitted to her late one night. “I fear for him. He’s young enough to go rushing off to war, convinced that he’s doing the noble thing, for patriotism and all that crap, and get himself killed.…” He felt a tremor in his heart just thinking about it.
“Do you really think he’d go?”
“I have absolutely no doubt. He told me as much himself.”
“God, no …” She thought of Jon then. She couldn’t even imagine him in a war. But when she talked to Antoine herself, he put none of her fears to rest.
“It’s still my country … it always will be … no matter how long I live here. If she is attacked … I go. It’s as simple as that.” But nothing was that simple, and now each time they listened to the news, Sabrina and André felt the threat. She almost wished he would pursue Arden Blake. Maybe if he married her, he would be less liable to run off. And what he said was beginning to seem true. It seemed almost impossible that there wouldn’t be war over there. They just prayed it wouldn’t be soon, and that Antoine would have changed his mind about it by then. Maybe they could convince him that they absolutely needed him here. But Sabrina suspected he would go anyway, and André agreed with her.
And to take their minds off all of it, André gave her a magnificent fiftieth birthday party at Thurston House. There were four hundred people there. People she loved, people she cared about, some she barely knew, but it was an absolutely exquisite night, and the nurse even brought Dominique in, toddling along in a pink organdy dress, her blond hair in curls with a little pink satin ribbon, and her cherubic smile and big blue eyes. She was the joy of their life, and Sabrina and André loved her more every day. And Antoine was as crazy about her as they were. He brought a very nice girl to Sabrina’s birthday party too. An English girl who was studying in San Francisco for a year. She was a medical student, and a very serious girl, but she lacked the warmth and the spirit and the ingenuousness of Arden Blake, and Sabrina couldn’t help wondering what was happening to her. Jon didn’t come out, but he mentioned her that summer when he did. He just said he was seeing her again, and Christine too, and there was a new French girl now, another model, and an absolutely fabulous-looking German Jewish girl he had just met. She had gotten out of Germany before things got too hot, and he and Antoine had had a heated argument about politics the night before he left. He insisted that Hitler was great for the German economy and would probably do Europe a lot of good, if everyone else behaved themselves, which made Antoine so irate that he broke two glasses and a cup and Sabrina cringed as she heard the abuse they hurled.
“Leave them alone.” André kept her from going into the living room. “It’s good for them. They’re both grown men.” Sometimes it was hard to remember that.
“They’re drunk for chrissake. They’ll kill each other.”
“No they won’t.”
In the end, Antoine walked out in a huff, Jon went to sleep on the couch, and the next day they parted friends, actually more than they usually did. Antoine even said he’d call Jon at the bank if he came to New York again, and he had never suggested that before. Sabrina was amazed and admitted to André he was right.
“You know, men are really very strange.” She was still stunned when they came back from seeing Jon off at the train. “I really thought they’d kill each other last night.”
“Hopefully, they’ll never do that.”
It was a busy summer after that. The grapes were growing beautifully, and Antoine and André were busy overseeing the picking of the grapes in the fall. Dominique had her second birthday shortly after that. Then Christmas came, and Jon was in Palm Beach with the Blakes again. Antoine never mentioned Arden anymore, and suddenly it was spring, and then summer again, and Jon called in July and said he’d be out in another month. He was planning to arrive around August eighteenth and he hemmed and hawed, and Sabrina couldn’t understand why, until he stepped off the train, and the most beautiful blond girl she’d ever seen stepped out after him. And as she walked toward them, she got another shock. It was Arden Blake, all grown up. She was twenty-one now, and Sabrina hadn’t seen her in two years. And what a difference they had made. She was breathtakingly beautiful now, her hair arranged in a sophisticated style, her makeup perfectly done, her body leaner than it had been, more like Jon’s, and side by side they were a truly spectacular pair. And Arden was as sweet as she had been before.
“Do you approve of my surprise?” He glanced from his mother to Arden with a smile as they all had dinner that night at Thurston House. Antoine had even come in. And Sabrina had seen him look searchingly at Arden more than once, but he seemed very reserved now, and she was sure the dinner wasn’t easy for him.
“I certainly do approve of your surprise. We haven’t seen enough of Arden out here.” She looked at her with a warm smile and she blushed, in counterpoint to a very sexy black dress she wore that revealed just the appropriate amount of her creamy breasts. Antoine had had a hard time with that too, although Jon didn’t seem to notice it at all, and Sabrina silently hoped that he wasn’t sleeping with her, though she didn’t know why.
“Well, we have another surprise for you, Mom.” He grinned and Arden looked at him breathlessly as Sabrina almost felt her heart stop. Suddenly she knew, and without thinking, she glanced at Antoine, desperately wanting to protect him. Jon saw her look and he went on. “We’re getting married next June. We just got engaged.” Sabrina looked instinctively at her left hand, as Arden quietly turned a very pretty sapphire and diamond ring from out of the inside of her hand. She had been hiding it until Jon told them and now she beamed. “Do you approve?”
Sabrina was silent for just an instant too long, she wasn’t sure what to say. And André stepped into the gap. “Of course we do. We’re delighted for you both.” She would be twenty-two when she married Jon, he would be twenty-six, and Antoine would be out of luck. But nothi
ng at all showed on his face as he toasted them and it was he who went to get a very fine bottle of champagne made from their own grapes.
“I congratulate you both, and wish you long life, long love … good years …”
“Hear hear!” André seconded his son’s elegant toast, and Sabrina tried to make up for her initial shock, but the evening was a terrible strain for her, and she was relieved when finally everyone went to their respective rooms and she could be alone with André to tell him what she thought of it.
“Antoine was right.” He had predicted exactly that. But he had also predicted divorce in another five years, and she thought he would be right again. No matter how beautiful they looked with each other, Sabrina instinctively knew that it was wrong and she said just that to André. “He doesn’t love her. I know it. I can see it in his eyes.”
“Sabrina,” André looked firmly at his wife, “there is nothing you can do. And your wisest course will be to go along with them. If it’s a mistake, let them find out. They’re not getting married for another ten months. That’s what engagements are all about. You can pave a road from here to Siam with returned engagement rings.”
“I hope she opens her eyes and does just that.” And she hoped it more fervently later on in their stay, when a rumor reached her that Jon had been out with two chorus girls again the night before. She said nothing to him. He had just said that he was going out with some old friends, and he had left Arden at home. But Sabrina did not approve. He was no different than he had ever been. Nor was Antoine, or his feelings for Jon’s fiancée. There was a smoldering look in his eyes each time he looked at her, and it was as though she knew. Their eyes would meet and hold, and she had to tear herself away. But the real shock came on September third, the day before they were to return to New York, and Antoine came home, having heard the news. He had had a meeting in town, and on his way home, he had heard the radio. His predictions had been right again. Europe was at war. He walked into Thurston House and Sabrina stood transfixed. She had just heard it too.
“Antoine …” Without his saying a word, the tears began to roll down her face, and when André walked into the house just behind his son, his face was grim.
“You heard the news?” Antoine didn’t have to ask. They both nodded and stared at him, fearing the worst. But André surprised them both.
“Please don’t go.” He spoke in a frightened, broken voice. He had been terrified when he heard the reports and he had rushed home to beg. He couldn’t let him go to war … he was a boy … his firstborn … there were tears in his eyes now and Antoine clung to him, as Arden walked slowly down the stairs, and Antoine looked up at her. Sabrina never knew if he said the words to her or to them.
“I have to go. I have to … I couldn’t stay here knowing that was going on.”
“Why not? This is your country too,” Sabrina spoke up.
“But that was my country first. It’s my motherland. My home. I was born there.”
“You were born to me.” It was a frightened plea, and for the first time since she had known him, André looked old. “Mon fils …” The tears rolled unrestrained down his face, and Sabrina saw that Arden was crying too. Her eyes were glued to Antoine and he walked to her and touched her face.
“One day I will see you again.” He sighed then and turned to the rest of them. “I called the consulate a few minutes ago. They’ve made arrangements for me to leave on a train tonight. It will go straight through to New York, and I’ll take a ship there. There are already others going now.” He looked at his father then. “Je n’ai pas le choix, Papa.” I have no choice. It was a matter of his self-respect. And it was all André’s fault. He had brought him up too well, with too much integrity, too much pride, Antoine could never have hidden with them, six thousand miles from home, where they needed him.
And it was all like a nightmare after that. They took him to the station that night, after he packed his things. He talked for two hours with André, about the business matters he was leaving behind, and he apologized constantly for letting him down, but he was not willing to wait so much as another day. Even Jon thought that was foolish of him.
“Why the hell don’t you wait until tomorrow, old man, and go with us, on a decent train? What do you lose?”
“Time. They need me now. Not after I stuff my face for four days, and play cards in the parlor car. My country’s at war.”
Jon looked at him ironically. “They’ll wait. They won’t cancel it because you’re a week late.” But Antoine wasn’t amused, nor were they at the station at two A.M., watching him board the train with a handful of others going east. There was a flurry of French being spoken on the platform, a sea of gray faces, a river of tears. And then suddenly, as they said their good-byes, Arden was in his arms and he kissed her cheek and looked down at her.
“Sois sage, mon amie.” Which could have been translated as “be good” or “be wise,” it was an interesting choice for her and one she would have to make soon. She looked devastated as she watched him go and she called out his name as the train rolled away. Jon took her by the arm and pulled her toward the car. And André stood sobbing in Sabrina’s arms. They had left Dominique at home. It was too much for a three-year-old child and she wouldn’t have understood what was going on.
“I never really thought he’d go … even all this time when he said it.…” André was inconsolable, and he lay in her arms and cried all that night. And the next day when Jon left was another kind of agony. It was like seeing the family smashed all within one day, and when Sabrina kissed Arden, they both cried, though neither knew why. They were crying for Antoine, but there was nothing they could say. And then Sabrina kissed Jon again.
“Take care of yourselves … come back soon.…” André hadn’t come to the train. It would have been too much for him, and that night when they drove back to Napa, Sabrina drove, and André said not a word during the entire trip.
Antoine called them once from New York the night before he sailed and they didn’t hear from him again for four months, until January. He was well, he was safe, he was in London, temporarily assigned to the RAF, and he was wild with admiration for De Gaulle, it was all he talked of when he wrote, and Sabrina ran to the mailbox every day, as Dominique clutched at her skirts. And when there was a letter from Antoine, they would run back twice as fast, and Sabrina would hand it to André. As long as they heard from him, everything would be all right. But it seemed as though they lived in constant fear. Even Jon’s wedding to Arden paled in comparison to that. It was a magnificent wedding in New York. André and Sabrina went, Bill Blake was the best man, Dominique was the flower girl, there were twelve bridesmaids and ushers and five hundred guests at St. Patrick’s Cathedral on the first Saturday in June, but Sabrina was distracted through most of it. She kept thinking of Antoine, and wondering how and where he was. It seemed as though he had been gone for a hundred years, and when he told them he was coming home on leave three months after that, Sabrina sat down and wept. He had been gone for thirteen months, and he had survived that long. He was in North Africa with De Gaulle, but there was a chance for him to come to the States. He would only be able to spend a few days with them, but with any luck at all, he would be there for Dominique’s fourth birthday.
And he was. There was general rejoicing by all, and somehow it didn’t seem quite as awful when he went back this time. Even André wasn’t quite as depressed. And it was as though his aura was still in the air for a long time after he left. They had talked business about the vineyards endlessly, he had bounced Dominique on his lap from the moment he arrived until the moment he left, and he had told them all about the war, and especially about De Gaulle, whom he revered.
“And one of these days the Americans will be in it too.” He had been absolutely certain of it.
“That’s not what Roosevelt says,” Sabrina said.
“He lies. He’s getting ready for war, mark my words.”
She smiled. “Still making predictions. Antoi
ne?”
“Not all of them are right,” he smiled back, “but this one is.” He also asked for Arden and Jon, but she could read nothing on his face. He was too busy with the war and De Gaulle and the rest of it. She told him how pretty the wedding had been, but she missed seeing Amelia when she was there. She had died a few months after Dominique’s birth, at the ripe old age of ninety-one. She had lived a long, full, happy life and it had been time, but Sabrina missed her anyway.
Antoine was planning to look up Arden and Jon on his way back through New York, but as it turned out he didn’t have time. They shortened his leave, and he left three days earlier than planned, in dark of night, on a troop ship. So all he did was call, and he got Arden, since Jon was out. “He’s at a business dinner with Bill. He’ll be sorry he missed your call.” And she wanted to tell him that she was glad she’d been there, but she was married now, and aware of what she said to him. “Take care of yourself. How were Sabrina and André?”
“Fine. Busy. It was good to see them. And Dominique is huge.” He laughed into the phone, seeing Arden’s face, and she closed her eyes and smiled, grateful that he was still alive. She often thought of him. But she was happy with Jon. She knew she had made the right choice. And they had been married for four months. She hoped she would be pregnant soon.
“You should have seen her at the wedding, she was adorable.” But it still hurt him to think of that, and he had had to go, others were waiting to use the phones that had been rigged up near the ship.
“Tell Jon I said hello.”
“I will … take care.…” She sat staring at the phone for a long time after they hung up, and she wanted to wait for Jon, but as usual when he was out with her brother, he didn’t get home until three o’clock.
She told him about Antoine’s call the next day, but he had a hideous headache and didn’t seem to care. “He’s crazy to have gotten himself into that,” Jon snapped at her. “Thank God this country isn’t that dumb.”
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