Moonlight in Paris

by Pamela Hearon

  Tara shook her head in feigned exasperation. “Guess I thought some Southern cooking would infuse some of the jargon into him.”

  Garrett stood and stretched. “I haven’t had a meal like that since I’ve been here. You’re a good cook.”

  She grinned. “When I get the hankering.”

  Garrett chuckled as they moved to the railing to watch for Dylan’s appearance in the courtyard below. The little boy with the new puppy held it up proudly to show them, and they praised and cooed at it from one floor up.

  In no time, a red-faced Dylan scampered into view, waving at them and then turning his complete attention to the neighborhood’s newest member.

  Garrett took her hand as they walked back to the table. “I’m up now, so you’re going to let me help with these dishes.” His stern voice didn’t match the smile that teased at his lips.

  She held up their locked hands. “Guess we have to let go, first.”

  He stacked the plates as she took care of the empty serving dishes. Not a scrap of leftovers for tomorrow’s lunch. Her mom always said that was a good sign.

  “So what did you do today, other than cook...and order an icky pizza?” He didn’t ask about her Jacques Martin quest for the day, so she didn’t mention it.

  He was obviously aware she’d tell him when she found the right one, so for once, she left her elusive birth father out of the conversation. Besides, last night the subject had made him antsy. She didn’t want a repeat performance of that.

  “I went to Sacré Coeur.” She loaded the dishes into the dishwasher as Garrett put things back into the fridge and cabinets.

  “Oh? Did you take the funicular up to it?”

  “No, I wanted to walk the hill,” she answered. “The basilica was so beautiful, and the view from up there? Spectacular!” She chatted on about the Montmartre area’s quaint streets.

  “What else did you see?” He wet the dishcloth and wiped the crumbs and drips from the countertops.

  “Well, I went to the cemetery and then I roamed around the Moulin Rouge area, but I didn’t go in the theater.” She paused, studying which button to push. She chose one and gave a satisfied smirk when the sound of water met her ears. “Man, those sex shops around there are sleazy. Not what I expected.”

  Garrett threw the dishcloth into the sink and pulled her into his arms. “Not a place I want you going without me, either.”

  His mouth came down on hers hard and insistent in a kiss that left her breathless and quivering. When he straightened and their lips parted, his arms remained locked around her as if he knew she would need the extra support.

  And she did.

  She leaned back and shook her finger. “You shouldn’t kiss me like that so early in the evening. It sends my mind to places it shouldn’t be. Gives me a terrible hankering for you.”

  He grinned, but then his eyes grew dark, his face serious. “I’ve got something I want to talk to you about.” He nodded toward the door. “But we need to go back outside and listen for Dylan.”

  Her stomach squeezed at the intensity of his tone. “Is everything okay?”

  “It will be if I can get you to consider something with an open mind.” With a hand on her back, he led her outside to the terrace and the area with the railing.

  “You sure are being cryptic.” She peered into the courtyard below, but Dylan hadn’t reappeared. He still had about ten minutes of his half hour remaining. She leaned an elbow on the wrought-iron barrier, giving Garrett her full attention.

  “I don’t mean to be.” Garrett’s voice was husky. “Fact is, I want to lay it all out for you.” He faced her, leaning on his elbow. “I love you, Tara. We’ve said that’s crazy to say this soon, but it’s how I feel. But...” He paused and took her hand. “I’m not crazy enough to think we know each other as well as we need to in order to make any commitments.”

  For a minute there, she’d had the crazy idea he was going to propose, and it had her heart thudding so hard she could feel it from her temples to her toes. His last sentence calmed that quaking some, but she still couldn’t trust her voice not to squeak.

  Garrett didn’t give her time to respond anyway. He plunged ahead with his proposal of a different kind. “I want you to consider staying longer. You’ve said yourself, you really don’t have to be back until August. Stay a few more weeks.”

  “My ticket...”

  “Can be changed. I’ll pay the fee. Stay with me and Dylan, Tara.” He let go of her hand and slid his fingers into the sides of her hair. “Let’s use whatever time we have to explore this thing between us. It feels more right to me than any relationship ever has.”

  Tara stood speechless for a moment, her brain whirring too fast for her mouth to catch up.

  Garrett seemed to understand. He leaned in to capture her mouth with another kiss that was soft and beguiling, packed with emotion.

  More time with Garrett and Dylan was exactly what her heart had been yearning for, and it leaped in her chest as she considered his offer. “I would love that.”

  “Dad?” Dylan’s voice broke the moment. He stood in the courtyard below, hands on hips. “I called you three times before you heard me,” he chided, but his grin said he really didn’t mind.

  “Sorry, sport. Didn’t hear you.”

  “Yeah, because you and Tara were kissing. I’m on my way up,” he called as he disappeared from view.

  Garrett’s gaze returned to hers, his hands still in her hair. “That was a yes from you, I think?”

  She nodded. “That was an enthusiastic yes from me.”

  “Good.”

  His mouth closed down on hers again, and it was his kiss that she felt this time from her temples to her toes.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “AND IT’LL GIVE ME MORE time to look for you-know-who and visit some places I haven’t had time for yet.”

  The verdant, rolling hills of the French countryside came into view as Tara’s train pulled out of the station, while images of the opulence of Versailles still spun in her head. Trying to accurately describe the place to Emma had proven futile, and even the photos she’d taken wouldn’t do justice to the unfathomable beauty of the palace and its grounds.

  “Garrett says we can take a weekend trip to the Loire Valley,” she continued. “And we can do a weekend in Brussels, too, which is only four hours away. Isn’t that crazy? He can be in Brussels, Belgium, in about the same time it takes us to get to St. Louis.”

  “What’s crazy is my best friend’s falling in love with a guy I’ve never met, who lives across the ocean, and she’s pretending that she’s extending her trip because she wants to see more of the country.”

  Tara grinned at the exasperation in Emma’s tone. Ms. Counselor could take anything a troubled teen threw at her with calm patience, but Tara’s quirky manner could send her into a dither faster than a bluegill on a cricket.

  “I can’t help it, Emma.” Soul-lifting fields of sunflowers appeared in the distance. The train’s speed increased, and Tara could feel the thrum of the movement low in her belly. “I’ve got a feeling I’m headed toward something...something big. Yes, I want more time with Garrett and Dylan. I love being with them. But it’s more than that. My father’s here and he’s alive, and I’m on the verge of locating him. I just know it.

  The woman occupying the seat in front of her turned and gave a sympathetic glance, so Tara lowered her voice. “I only have nine addresses left. My odds have got to be getting better.”

  “Now I remember why we only went to Vegas once.” The train was quiet enough for Tara to hear the sigh all the way from Kentucky to France. “I’m just jealous. Garrett’s getting your whole summer. By the time you get back, we’ll be heading back to work, and there won’t be time for any of those things we’d planned to do.”

  “We�
�ll still take that road trip to Memphis,” Tara promised. “Graceland’s on the to-do list this summer, no matter what else comes up.”

  “Thank you. Thank you very much.”

  Emma’s barely recognizable imitation of Elvis sent Tara into a fit of the giggles. “That was god-awful.”

  “Yeah? Well, you ought to try it with drool running from a totally numb bottom lip.”

  Tara rolled her eyes. “One little filling, you baby. Try cutting off half your hand.”

  “I’ll leave that to you.”

  The words were blotchy, and Tara realized they were about to lose reception. “Hey, you’re cutting out, but before I lose you, do you think my mom and dad are doing okay?”

  The line went silent, and Tara checked her phone. Call Ended was soon replaced by No Service.

  She let out a frustrated sigh. Dad went fishing July Fourth. The family had a picnic at the cabin and had included Emma. Things were back to normal; she just needed to cool it with the worrying.

  For the millionth time since she’d arrived in this country, she imagined how it would be when she met her father. He would smile, embrace her, introduce her proudly to his family. It seemed strange to think other siblings might be waiting in the wings to make their appearance on her life’s stage.

  She pressed her forehead to the train window, turning her attention to the landscape outside.

  This trip was the most important journey of her life.

  She didn’t want to miss a single detail.

  * * *

  “WE MISSED YOU AT Ladies’ Prayer Group, Faith. And the prayer meeting Wednesday night.”

  The voice behind her caused Faith’s teeth to clench involuntarily. She’d known that Sue would make a beeline to her if she stepped even one foot outside. But she was tired of feeling like a prisoner in her mother-in-law’s house. Besides, she could hardly do the gardening at night.

  Faith tossed the handful of weeds into the bucket without turning around. “I didn’t feel like going.” She grabbed another clump of chickweed.

  “All the more reason you should’ve been there. When we’re at our lowest, we need to be lifted up. You need prayer right now more than anyone else I know.”

  Faith could swear she heard a smile in Sue’s condescension. “Prayer I need.” The chickweed broke loose. She tossed it away and turned to face her neighbor. Yes, indeed, the woman had a smug, mule-eating-briars grin on her face. “Gossip I can do without.”

  “Avoiding people isn’t going to stop the gossip.” Sue wrinkled her nose and sniffed as if the clean air harbored some kind of stench.

  “Maybe not. But it gives me a rationale for avoiding people I don’t like.” Faith gave a fake grin of her own. “Like you.”

  “Don’t blame me for your personal problems.” There was the anger that always lay just below the surface of Sue’s insecurity. It never took much scratching to bring it to the top. Fact was, Faith had always suspected Sue enjoyed being mad. She seemed to delight in telling people off, and this morning she was going to get a chance to start her day on the upswing.

  “I’m not blaming you for my personal problems. I’m blaming you for leading the charge against my husband.” The words left Faith’s mouth in a much calmer state than they’d been formed.

  “Somebody has to take the reins in a situation like this.”

  Faith snorted. “You mean, somebody has to stir the pile. So tell me, Sue, just what kind of situation are you making this out to be?”

  Sue’s fisted hands rested on her hips and her head wobbled as she spewed her venom. “One where the preacher and his wife are having serious enough marital problems that they separate, yet they won’t tell even their closest friends what’s going on. It looks bad. Real bad. And I’m not going to sit around and wait until the Taylor’s Grove Church becomes the laughing stock of Marshall County.”

  Faith pulled off her gardening gloves. “Have you and Ed ever had problems, Sue?”

  “Well, of course we’ve had problems. Every married couple has problems.”

  Faith leaned forward and used a stage whisper. “Did you want those problems talked about?”

  “I didn’t put them on public display by moving out of the house.” The smug smile came back out to play at the edges of her mouth.

  “And neither did Sawyer.” Faith took the gloves in one hand and slapped them against the other to knock the dirt off, imagining the hand was Sue’s smirk. “But he’s who you’re going after.”

  Sue’s chin lifted. “He’s the leader of the church.”

  “Or maybe he’s the easier of the two targets.” Faith opened the cage on her own anger. “You know if you come after me, I won’t take any of your crap.”

  Sue gasped and Faith rolled her eyes at the drama.

  “Oh, like you’ve never heard the word before. Your daddy started the church and you control the purse and therefore you think you control Sawyer.” Maybe Sue had been right all these years. Telling somebody off did feel good! “What you may not realize is that Sawyer doesn’t just put up with your crap because of your position. He genuinely likes you, Sue, which isn’t true of most of the people in this community. He somehow manages to see through your hateful, mean ways to some goodness inside you—though goodness knows where. Did you know that? Sawyer’s your staunchest supporter. ‘Sue has a good heart,’ he always says. ‘She means well.’ Well, look at where that faith in humanity has gotten him.”

  Sue’s face was the color of the beet Faith had unearthed a few minutes earlier. “I’ll make you sorry you ever crossed me, Faith Franklin. I’ll get to the bottom of this secret you’re harboring, and when I do, I’ll have you run out of town on a rail. And your husband, too. He’ll never lead another church in this county or anywhere near here, if I have my say.”

  “Oh, that’s what you do best, Sue. You have your say...whether it’s the truth or not.” Faith took a menacing step in the woman’s direction, brandishing the weeding fork she still held. “Now, get out of my yard before I throw you out. Lacy’s plants don’t need any more of your...fertilizer.”

  Sue nearly ran from the yard.

  Faith watched with amusement, breathing hard and thinking the woman might actually vault over the gate in her haste to leave.

  She gathered up the gardening tools, the task having suddenly lost its appeal. Guilt tightened her chest for participating in such an ugly scene in Lacy’s lovely place of tranquility.

  She needed to finish the calls she’d started two days ago, and then she’d go see Sawyer and tell him what had just happened. He’d been sure the Board of Fellowship would follow Sue’s lead. Well, her tirade had pretty much put the last nail in that coffin.

  The house was cool and stepping inside was like putting a soothing balm on her temper.

  Faith sat down at the table with the list of numbers she’d jotted down in her quest for Jacques Martin and picked up the phone.

  The placement office at Murray State didn’t have any information on the former student, nor did the Office of Alumni Affairs. But the woman there had been most helpful. She’d suggested Faith use the yearbook from her college sorority to help contact her sorority sisters—one of them might have information on Jacques Martin.

  It was a splendid plan, and had kept Faith busy the past two days catching up with old friends and rehashing old times.

  She dialed Tina Lofton’s number and listened to it ring. No answer. No answering machine. No voice mail. She’d try that one again later.

  On to Mary Jane Mitchell. She had only the first three numbers punched in when the phone vibrated in her hand.

  “Faith? It’s Cheryl Wheeler. Cheryl Gates Wheeler. I got your message.”

  An image of Cheryl Gates as she looked thirty years ago settled in Faith’s mind. “It’s so good to hear from you, Cheryl. Thanks
for calling me back.”

  They chatted for a while, catching up on the years that had been swept away like they’d been caught in a flash flood.

  “So, Cheryl, do you remember Jacques Martin?” Faith tried to modulate her voice so it didn’t sound too full of excitement...or trepidation.

  “That hot French guy? Nobody could forget him.” Cheryl laughed. “Didn’t you two hook up on graduation night?”

  Hearing the secret she’d harbored for so many years spoken aloud as if it were common knowledge caused Faith’s throat to tighten. When Cheryl said it, it sounded so worldly and modern, So opposite of the real her, but perhaps the woman she might have been if she’d not spent the past twenty-nine years as the preacher’s wife in Taylor’s Grove.

  “Yeah, just that once, though.” She forced a smile, trying to borrow that worldly persona. She’d practiced what she would say and fell easily into the lie. “But my husband and I are thinking about a trip to France, and I thought I might try to look Jacques up. Would you happen to know if he’s still in Paris?”

  “He is still in Paris,” Cheryl answered, and Faith tilted the phone away from her mouth and nose to keep her sporadic breathing from sounding creepy. “Or, at least, he was two years ago. Kay and George Yancy had dinner with him. You remember Kay and George? George and Jacques were fraternity brothers.”

  Faith swerved the phone down to her mouth. “Yeah, I remember Kay and George well.” Her hand shook as she grabbed the pen and notepad.

  “Well, they live in Frankfort now. George is a state congressman.” That came as no surprise. “But we see them occasionally. I’m sure they could put you in touch with him.”

  Her? In touch with Jacques? Lord, no! “That would be great. Could you give me their number?” Faith’s throat felt as tight as her grip on the pen.

  “Sure, just let me get Kay’s personal number, one second.”

  A few seconds later Cheryl returned to the phone with that fateful number and Faith jotted it down on her notepad.

  “Just so you know, Faith, I tried calling Kay a few days ago and found out she and George are on a cruise. They won’t be home until Sunday, so, if I were you, I’d wait until Monday or Tuesday to call.”