Piper, Once & Again

by Caroline E. Zani

Gabriela smirked at her and said, “Uh-huh, that’s what you always say.” She popped the cork off and held the bottle out to her beautiful great-grandmother who closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. “Did I ever tell you of the night your Tantine Peyrinne was born, and how your Papa Vander made us some glöggi to celebrate? He was all thumbs that evening, so nervous. He and his father, Philip, were at my hearth—oh the mess I had to clean up the next day! He spilled a handful of raisins onto the stove and in all my life I never smelled such a sickening smell!”

  Gabriela laughed, “I wish I could have heard you scolding him. You should create a cologne of burnt raisins for clumsy men—to warn all women, Grand-mère. If my Jean had been wearing it when I met him ….”

  Piper had that familiar feeling of connecting with another woman simply because she was a woman. How we are so much alike, wanting the same things, having to endure the same pain, the same heartache. God, please have mercy on this young one; spare her from tragedy.

  When their visit was cut short by a knock at the door, Gabriela scooped up her fussing toddler, kissed Piper on the cheeks and bade her farewell. René entered and greeted everyone in his customarily cheerful way, bringing with him a sense of jovial comfort and familiarity. When the apartment was quiet again, he greeted Piper, his old friend, the wife of his grandfather’s partner. “I am here on business, Madam, so it is my wish that you do not try to seduce me with that beautiful smile. My wife would have my head!”

  She laughed out loud, exposing the few teeth that she had left and said, “You are a devil, René. I have always known it! Now, have a seat young man. Would you like something to eat?”

  He shook his head no and sat next to the old woman who had made his family very wealthy. He took from his leather shoulder bag the wooden box that was so dearly familiar to Piper that the sight of it made her heart skip a beat. He carefully slid the lid from it and extracted five glass vials, setting each one down carefully on the thick wooden tabletop, where Piper’s family had, for decades, shared meals, planned their lives, and dreamed aloud.

  She gently placed her gnarled hand on top of the cool glass and smiled at him. On each vial was a blank label which ultimately would bear, in René’s hand, Piper’s notes and possible names for the fragrance within. She delighted in the naming process, feeling that a scent’s name should convey a feeling or a wish for the customers who wore her perfumes. Some of her favorites had been shipped to the farthest reaches of the world: Guérit le Cœur, Toujours L’amour, Les Ailes d’ange, and her favorite, which Vander had named, Piper Bleu Toujours.

  René raised his eyebrows and nodded, asking if she was ready to begin. Winking in return, she lifted the first vial and handed it to him, so that he would remove the stopper for her. He held the vial for a moment then held it under her nose. She inhaled and asked him to dab a little on her wrist which he did with a sly smile, making her giggle and roll her eyes.

  “Renard,” she accused. He sat back and waited for her remarks, pen in hand. Closing her eyes she inhaled the mixture of violet, rose, and lemongrass, and pictured the gardens of her youth. She opened her eyes wide. As she conveyed her approval with the slightest nod and the very shine in her eyes, René noted on the label that this vial held a possibility. The next three were met with definite disdain as the elderly woman, who in her youth had never quite mastered the art of hiding her displeasure, wore on her face a clear lack of interest. The last vial was unopened when she reached for it.

  “Hand it to me René,” she said in her most authoritative voice.

  René furrowed his brow and asked, “Are you sure it wouldn’t be better if I ….”

  She leaned forward for the vial and he let her take it from his hands, hoping she wouldn’t drop it. He always saved his highest hopes for last, and she knew this time was no different. She struggled with the stopper but was determined to pry it loose. She dabbed a small bit of the liquid on her clean wrist and took a long, deep breath. Immediately her mind filled with images of a time very familiar to her but nothing she could actually place as memories: a handsome dark-haired gentleman, a tall, beautiful woman who wore her hair down about her shoulders in the daytime—how scandalous. She saw horses that looked similar to Pieferet and Henk, a vineyard, and there was love mixed with much sadness.

  Upon opening her eyes, René asked, “And where did you go just now?”

  She smiled at him and wondered the same thing. The second time she inhaled the fragrance, she stared at René, not being able to place all of the scents.

  “Almond, violet, myrtle and ….”

  He smiled at her and winked before he said, “Well, my dear, I have stumped the nose of all noses, eh?”

  Not to be trumped, she took another deep breath and let it fill her nose. “It … it is familiar, but ….”

  René sat back and laughed at her furrowed brow.

  “Any guesses, Madam?”

  Shaking her head and looking defeated, she handed the vial back to him. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, she blurted out, “Grapes!”

  He nodded to her and said, “Yes, madam! Grapes.” After a moment’s silence, he asked, but didn’t need to. “Well, what do you think, young miss?”

  She couldn’t help but take another bit of the fragrance and dab it on her neck and her other wrist. “Oh René, this one is going to turn heads. And allegiances!”

  They both giggled at the thought of Paris’s elite leaving the shops of Guerlain and Mollinard and running to Perfumerie Bleu for their new favorite fragrance. “This one needs a special name. I’ll have to think about it. Leave me this vial so I can have it with me for a couple of days.”

  René packed four of the vials into the wooden case and before sliding the lid back into place, looked into Piper’s eyes and said, “You know we shouldn’t do this, leave this vial around. You know better than anyone it could be stolen. I bet they have someone watching this very house right now.”

  She looked back up at René and nodded, knowing he was right; the perfume industry was a ruthless one, and she would have no way of fending off an intruder. She knew, too, that poisons were commonly mixed with perfumes to rid a particularly pesky, or, in this case, extremely successful competitor. Be it in love, business, or otherwise, poisoning had become commonplace.

  She gently handed René the vial and asked that he just dab some on her gloves so that she could keep it with her.

  “Oh, of course, my dear lady. Now I won’t have to drink heavily worrying about someone coming here to kill you for this formula. And to think I started my day imagining the worst I had to worry about was hiding a tryst from my darling wife.”

  Piper laughed again, heartily, knowing René’s wife was anything but darling. And she had no doubt that if she ever did catch René being unfaithful, he would walk himself to the guillotine.

  He left the sweet-smelling gloves under her pillow for her and bid her a good week.

  “I will see you next Friday and I hope that by then you will have found the perfect name, Love.”

  She kissed his cheeks and wished him a relaxing weekend with his wife. Laughter rang in her ears as she lay down for an early afternoon nap, a sense of finality settling about her shoulders.

  Chapter 26

  THREE MONTHS AFTER LEAVING Dr. Corcoran’s office, Piper signed a purchase and sale agreement on the farm. When she handed the paperwork back to her real estate agent as they sat at the kitchen table, she thought, I can’t believe I’m selling what’s left of Paul’s dream. And mine, too. She shook the thought out of her mind and smiled, glad at least to be moving on. Trying to live on the farm without him was just too painful, and Dr. Corcoran suggested that she might try starting over someplace new.

  Kim looked at her and said, “Now, about the other property. Have you called an inspector yet?”

  Piper rolled her eyes comically and replied, “That’s at the top of my to-do list; well, right under dealing with the life insurance company and settling some debts, catching up on my wor
k, and calling the auctioneer about the winery equipment.”

  Kim nodded. “I understand, but you don’t want to drag your feet either.”

  Piper nodded back. Does this woman have any clue what I’ve been through? No, I guess no one really does.

  She saw Kim to the door, promising to get an inspector out to the tiny Cape house she planned to purchase. Not wanting to be alone, she hopped into her car and thought that she wanted nothing more than a hot cup of coffee and a friend to talk to. She dialed Dr. Corcoran’s number and when he answered, she smiled.

  “John! Hi, it’s Piper. How are you?”

  He was surprised to hear her voice. She had gone to see him for a follow-up appointment a month after her first session; but since then, they hadn’t spoken.

  “Piper, hi. I’m well; how are you doing?”

  She started the car and headed out the driveway, juggling her phone and the seat belt, exhibiting her lack of patience in fine style.

  “I’m … okay, I guess. I just signed a purchase and sale agreement on the farm and I feel, uhh, I feel good!”

  “Well that’s good news. Wow, I didn’t think you’d act so fast, but really, I think it will prove to be good for you. Change, I mean. Change can be really good.”

  “Me too, John. I just wanted to thank you for everything and for listening and understanding and helping me piece things together.”

  He replied with a lilt in his voice that surprised him.

  “It’s been my pleasure. Really, it has. When do you think you’ll be coming back in? Any idea?”

  She didn’t need to think about her response as she already knew.

  “I’d like to come down this week sometime if you can fit me in.”

  Without looking at his schedule, John replied, “Of course I can! Barbara’s out today so let me know what’s good for you and I’ll make it work.”

  Piper rolled her eyes, thinking of the extremely unpleasant secretary.

  “Wednesday afternoon works for me, maybe around 2:00?”

  Pulling onto the snow-lined street, she had a sense of really moving forward and it felt good. She acknowledged it and took a breath. Moving again … thank God.

  “Perfect, I’ll see you then.” John took a breath and penned in: Piper 2:00 p.m.-Close.

  Tossing her phone onto the passenger seat and gripping the wheel with the gloves Paul had given to her one Christmas, she felt a weight being lifted from her. She really was piecing things together and moving on. It was painful, and she knew she had to grieve. And she would grieve, but right now she wanted to keep her wits about her so that she could figure out her past.

  “It’s the only way I can think to live the rest of my days as a whole person,” she had said just before the voice on the speaker asked if she’d like to try a turbo shot with her coffee.

  “No thanks. Just a small regular, please.”

  She paid at the window and headed back to her farm.

  When she pulled into the driveway, she tried to imagine how the farm must look to the soon-to-be owners. It really was a beautiful home, set so nicely on the lot, shielding the stable from the street, and surrounded by old-growth trees, something she and Paul had both insisted on keeping. Sitting in the car for a few moments before getting out, she caught a glimpse of the crocus and tulip foliage, their beautiful green life peeking from the otherwise colorless landscape. She closed her eyes and prayed, I really hope they won’t sell off the vineyard for the land, Paul. I hope someone will continue what you’ve started. I’m sorry I can’t be the one to do it, Honey. I just can’t be here without you. I hope you understand.

  Back in the house, she was greeted by Viceroy.

  “Hi, Vice! You staying out of trouble, old man?” He barked and wriggled, not insulted in the least. She went to the kitchen and got him a cookie, then went up to her office to catch up on some work.

  Opening her email before working was something she long ago vowed she would never let herself do, but since Paul’s death, she was turning over new leaves in every area of her life. She clicked on her inbox and scanned the thirty-seven junk emails, deleting them with a sigh. She kept, but didn’t open, the ones from Sharon, her mother, or Kim. Deciding she didn’t want to answer emails at the moment, she went to iTunes and downloaded some new songs for her iPod. Sorry Paul, can’t help it. I like foreign rock music—got tired of the American stuff. There was just something about some of these bands that she really connected with.

  She went to the site Sharon kept telling her about. At first Piper thought she was saying U2, but then Sharon sent her a link for YouTube and had been addicted ever since. She typed in Ville Valo and saw that there was a new posting of him performing an old Finnish folksong. She shrugged her shoulders, thinking, I won’t understand a word of it, but if he’s singing it, I’m sure it’s beautiful. She clicked on it and sat back. The opening notes of the song played and she closed her eyes, waiting for the deep voice she loved. Her nose filled with the scent of roses and a sense of deep longing filled her heart. She was unaware that she was clutching at her collarbone by the end of the song. After clicking back on iTunes to try to download it and not being successful, she went back to Google and searched for a downloadable version of it. No luck. Hands trembling, she wrote down the name of the song, following Dr. Corcoran’s orders to keep a log of her scent memories and what may have triggered them for their next session. Odottaa sinua valo. What does that mean, I wonder?

  She shrugged her shoulders and tucked the piece of paper into her purse. After listening to the song again, she decided that catching up on work could wait one more day at least. I need to take care of some things. I’ve been putting off too much for too long. I have to do this.

  She took her cell phone and brought it into her bedroom. Lying down on the bed, she noticed the afternoon sun slanting through the window in a way that announced spring as unmistakably as the tulips and crocuses. She caressed Paul’s pillow, thinking how long it had been since he had slept next to her. With trembling fingers, she dialed her voicemail, something she did almost daily. But this time she decided she wanted to hear what Paul had said in those first few voicemail messages back in November, on the last day of his life.

  At the prompt, she input her password and hit the pound key. Her heart began racing, and she was afraid the familiar feeling might lead to another anxiety attack and flipped her phone shut. Quickly, she opened the bottle on her nightstand and put half a Xanax under her tongue. After redialing, she took a deep breath and said, “Please God, help me get through this.”

  Once again, she typed in her password and hit pound. She skipped over her mother’s three recent messages, not really wanting to hear her cheerful voice calling her Catherine. She was not Catherine. She knew that one day she would need to confront her mother and get to the root of this pain. This betrayal. But right now, she knew, was not the time.

  When she heard Paul’s voice, she sucked in her breath and pulled his pillow closer to her.

  “Hey, Beautiful! I didn’t get to see you this morning, well, not awake anyway. You must have been tired—you didn’t move at all when I came downstairs this morning. Was I snoring again last night or something? Sorry, Hon. All I know for sure is that I’m so excited about tonight and I can’t wait to see you in your new dress. I hung it on the bedroom door for you. Call me when you get this so I know you’re okay. Love ya.”

  The mechanical voice told her the message had been recorded at 11:11 on November 20th. She hit the number nine to save it as she had done each of the last few months, not listening to the messages, but not wanting to lose them either.

  “Hi, again. It’s just me. Where are you? I wish you’d get back and give me a hand. Time is flying and I’m starting to get nervous. Give me a ring so I know how long you’ll be. Oh, and I wanted to tell you later tonight, but I can’t wait. I have a surprise for you, Babe.”

  The scent of Paul’s cologne and even his skin was there in her nose, her memory. In her heart. She wipe
d tears from her eyes and sniffled. Paul. I need you. Why did you leave me? After hitting nine again, she sat up and drew in a deep breath, the next message being the last. Knowing that she was going to hear a voice that really no longer existed except on some database somewhere, she felt panic rising in her throat despite the sedative.

  “Next message,” said the mechanical voice.

  “Hey, where the hell are you, Piper? It’s 2:15. I thought you’d be back by now. You’ve got me worried. Please, Piper. As soon as you get this, call me right back. Love you.”

  And that was it. She saved that message, too, and rolled onto her side. She closed her eyes. There. I was flying out of state to get what turned out to be the wrong friggin’ labels and he had a surprise planned for me. I didn’t deserve him. I don’t deserve anything except what I’ve got: an empty house and an empty heart … a name that’s not even mine. Past lives to deal with. God, please help me through this. And when her now daily afternoon medication mercifully kicked in, she drifted into a dreamless sleep, not feeling the gentle hand resting on her forehead.

  GRAND-MÈRE, we’re here. Can you hear me? I wish you’d open your eyes so I can know you’ve seen him. I brought the baby, he’s here. Grand-mère, please, just open your eyes for me.”

  Piper wanted to open her eyes, but her lids felt so heavy, so dry. And then came the sound of a newborn’s cry; how she loved it.

  I am here my love, my heart. Don’t be afraid, I’ve come for you. We will all be together soon. Vander! She wanted to open her eyes, but she knew she would not see him. He wouldn’t be there. But he was there, somewhere behind her eyelids, and she heard his voice so clearly. Piper… the cry of the baby again. She thought, I want to see him. The baby, Vander, I want to see him first. She struggled against the weight of her lids and the lure of his voice, and let in the light, just a little at first. When she was helpless to keep it at bay, the sunlight infiltrated this sweet interlude, bringing her back to her bedroom on Rue de Verneuil. Her eyes opened wide, flooding her thoughts and washing away that beautiful voice she would know anywhere.