Her words seized my heart in a tight grip of pain. “When was the last time you saw him?” I asked her.
“He left Wednesday to meet you in the park. He never returned.”
Today was Friday. The dinner was Thursday. Andre was up to something at dinner. Jean-Paul went missing after we went to Jacques’s flat. Was it possible that Andre saw us together? Did he see us at the park? Could Andre have done something to Jean-Paul? “Auntie, I think it may have been Andre. Jean-Paul and I spent the afternoon together. Maybe Andre saw us.”
We stared at one another, perplexed, apprehensive, and afraid. My brain couldn’t decide what to do. Then it came to me like a whisper in my ear. “Auntie, maybe Andre sent him away on a boat to be rid of him. Let us go to the pier and find out if they have a record of Jean-Paul departing. It will have an arrival date and place. Can we go now please?”
“Ahhh, oui. Let us go.”
Martine sent the driver away that brought me to her home. She explained to me that she didn’t want him to know where we were going, in case we needed to keep our plans secret for future safety. Then she called for her driver. “Take us to the pier straight away,” she said urgently.
Martine and I held hands in the carriage. We barely spoke, both fearing what might have happened.
We walked together arm in arm to the ticket booth at the pier. Martine spoke. “Excuse me please monsieur. Would you please check on a passenger to see if he made it on board a boat yesterday?”
“The name please,” the gentleman asked.
“Jean-Paul Soule,” Martine stated proudly.
The man ran his finger down page after page of names with signatures next to them. He flipped the pages slowly, but scanned quickly. “I checked all of the registries. He did not depart yesterday. Did you want to check another date?”
“Oui. Check Wednesday please,” I asked.
He scanned more pages. Finally his index finger found something. “Here he is. Jean-Paul Soule.”
“May I look?” Martine asked. He turned the book around to allow Martine and I to read the name and signature. “That’s definitely not his signature. There must be a mistake of some kind.”
The man looked at the page. He looked above and below Jean-Paul’s name, using his finger to guide his old eyes. “Are you a relative?”
“I raised this boy.”
“I see.” He paused, studying the name above Jean-Paul’s. “Oh yes, I remember these two.”
“Two?” You mean that Jean-Paul was not traveling alone?” My heart fell into my stomach. Who was with Jean-Paul? He had not let me know he was leaving and then he left Paris with someone else? Who?
“Oh he definitely was not alone. Poor fellow. Did you see him after his fall?”
“What fall?”
“The gentleman he was with said he had fallen down the stairs carrying his baggage as he was about to travel to the boat. He had broken his nose, which blackened both of his eyes. He said the poor man’s jaw was broken too, and some ribs. Your nephew couldn’t talk without assistance. The nice monsieur with him said he would see him to the ship in Le Havre to ensure that Jean-Paul did not miss his voyage to America.”
“When is he scheduled to arrive in America, and at which port?” I interjected.
“I must search a separate book for that information. We sell the tickets here. I can tell you shortly if he purchased the final destination ticket here.” He pulled out another book and looked at Wednesday’s sales. He didn’t find what he was looking for, so he searched another book, tracing the page quickly. “Ah, here it is. He is scheduled to arrive in New York on April 18th.”
“April 18th? Why should it take four weeks?”
“He chose to take the cargo voyage, which stops in Spain and then in Canada before reaching the United States. It’s a less expensive fare. Not very pleasant accommodations I am afraid. But that’s what his friend paid for.”
“You mean that Jean-Paul did not pay his own fare?” Martine asked.
“Non, the monsieur with your nephew paid the fare. He wanted to help the poor man out.”
“What’s the name of this KIND man?” Martine asked as nicely as she could.
“Oui, let’s look. He turned back to the first book where the page was still open. It says Monsieur Charles Batton. Do you know of him?”
“I do not,” Martine said. She looked over at me and I shook my head no. “You have been most kind and helpful. How much does it cost for a ticket to New York on the best accommodations that you have?”
“Three hundred francs. Did you want to purchase one now?”
“Not yet. Merci.”
Martine and I walked away from the ticket office and stood on the pier away from her driver and all ears. She said softly to me what I already knew. “Cherie, Jean-Paul is in danger. Someone has forced him to board this ship under duress and has harmed him. We don’t know who, although Andre may have the most obvious motive. If he is capable of such subterfuge, then we can’t be certain of what else he is may do. He could harm you if you do not cooperate with him…”
“I will never cooperate. He cannot get away with…”
“Cherie, Cherie. Please remain calm. We must take the upper hand here and protect you. If Andre did this, then you must be away from him. We need a careful plan. My first thought is to take you from your home where you can stay with me for a few days, but if Andre finds out that you are at my home he may suspect that we know something. It is best if you go home and appear like nothing is out of the ordinary. I will make arrangements for your needs in America including housing and contacts. Once everything is arranged, then I will tell your parents that you are staying at my home. You will pack your things and I will take you to the boat. Your parents shall hear everything from me, once you are safe. You can meet Jean-Paul at the ship in New York when he arrives and get him to a doctor.”
Martine looked at my face and noticed the distraught look forming and the tears pooling. “Be strong, Cherie. I too want to cry. That’s my son out there injured and alone. He loves you and you love him. We must be brave for Jean-Paul. You cannot allow anyone to know what you suspect. There’s great danger in this right now. Please, no emotions.” With my eyes closed, I drew in a few deep breaths. Could things get any worse? I didn’t want to tempt fate with that question. I changed my thoughts to the tasks before me.
“I will take you home. You must pretend that all is well when you see your mother and father. They will also not believe that Andre would resort to action so vile. It’s best that I have more certainty that Andre was involved before I speak with them. Once you make it to America and find Jean-Paul, you may have the details I need. You must be kind to Andre for now. It is in your best interest.”
I nodded my head in agreement.
“Once you’re safely away from Paris, I will share with your parents what has happened.”
Anger was beginning to form in my head. How dare Andre injure Jean-Paul! Then I realized that if Andre had followed us and watched us enter the flat for several hours, he may have felt justified in killing Jean-Paul. I wanted to scream. I wished I could kick Andre until he was hurt and bleeding. My whole body started to shake with rage. He’s evil!
We rode to my home in Martine’s carriage. Martine walked me inside and began the acting. She kissed my mother as if everything was normal. Then she added, “It’s always good to see you dear Catherine. Thank you for sharing your daughter with me. I’m afraid she’s a bit distraught with the news that I have shared. Jean-Paul has already departed for America to work for Jacques. He left quite suddenly. It would seem that the situation was difficult for him and departing was easier. It’s unclear, for he left without explanation. Be gentle with Cherie. Her heart is tender at this time. Well, I wish I could stay and enjoy your kind company, but I have an appointment I must not miss in town. Please Catherine, let’s meet again soon. I miss your company.”
My mother face showed a look of confusion and surprise. Martine had spoken quick
ly without an opportunity for mother to offer an invitation for tea or a word at all. She didn’t seem to know how to respond to Martine’s unfriendly, rushed visit.
Martine turned to me. “It was lovely to see you Cherie. Be strong child. We must meet together more often. I enjoy your company. Please accompany me to the ballet soon. Au’ revoir.” Martine turned and walked away.
Mother put her arm over my shoulder as we watched Martine walk out the front door. “Are you feeling all right my dear?”
“Eventually I will be. Right now I’m hurt and confused. I shall freshen up and see you at supper.”
My legs reluctantly carried me up the stairs to my room. With the door shut, I collapsed in a heap on my bed, lost in a whirlwind of disbelief, determination and longing to see the man I loved.
A feeling of abhorrence welled up in my being.
Jean-Paul was alone on a cargo ship, bruised, broken and possibly threatened by Andre to never return to Paris. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I must get to him, without letting Andre or my parents know of my plan. Crossing the ocean scared me; being at sea away from land for an extended period. I could not swim and the thought of such a vast expanse of water was stressful. Traveling across the Atlantic would challenge my adventurous spirit. Yet the thought of living in a new land with Jean-Paul excited me. That was the kind of adventure I longed for.
On my back, facing the ceiling, I wiped the tears from my cheeks with my hands. Dinner would be soon and I would have to look at my parents and pretend nothing was amiss. Overcome by complexity and deep emotion, I had to wonder if I would ever enjoy simplicity again.
With courage and a shield of armor to hide and protect my emotions, I prepared my mind for this journey. Getting to Jean-Paul would change my life’s path forever. Nothing else mattered to me. Finding Jean-Paul appeared to be the only option worth considering.
***
Chapter Seven: Two Lies Balance the Scale
Paris, March 21, 1899
In the days following the dinner with Andre’s family, I felt as if the devil stalked me while he laughed at my fake smiles, the little lies I told and my attempt to pretend everything was normal. Andre wouldn’t leave me alone either. He was at my side at every opportunity. The three of us could never find much to talk about, Andre, me and the devil. The tempter of evil found that amusing too. The mocking felt endless.
Eight days after I learned of Jean-Paul’s odd departure, Andre asked if I would dine with him that evening. Reluctantly, I agreed. Every time I saw Andre I was sick to my stomach. Dinner would be brutal. Yet I wanted to see some proof from him, some truth that would answer how he could take it upon himself to destroy my happiness when I asked for it honestly. Why did he feel that I didn’t deserve to be content?
We dined at la Fermette Marbeuf. Andre dressed in a fine, black suit. He looked handsome; a villain in sheep’s clothing. The conversation seemed strained, and I wondered if he noticed. Being his wife and dining with him night after night felt mortifying. Being a lonely old maid appealed to me more than enduring every dinner across the table from Andre.
“You look radiant my sweet,” Andre told me. “You grow more beautiful with each passing day.”
“Merci,” I replied.
“How do I look this evening? Do you like my new jacket and trousers?”
“You look…well-dressed.” I sensed immediately that he searched for more. “You look intelligent and wealthy,” I added.
“Thank you. Does that have appeal to you, my sweet?”
“What lady does not want intelligence and wealth?”
“Ah, well said, my love.” Andre paused and smiled, looking pleased with himself. “While I’m looking dashingly irresistible, would you like to take this opportunity to apologize for your hurtful words upon my arrival?”
“I would like to apologize. Andre, I’m sorry for hurting you. Inside of you is a wonderful person whom I’ve loved since my early youth. You’re my friend, above anything else. It was not my intention to cause you pain. Your happiness is my wish. Hopefully my actions shall not prevent you from a good life.”
“There now. Do you not feel much better? Don’t worry about mistakes you shall make in the future, for there are bound to be many. Your apology is always welcome.”
He obviously heard what he wanted to, instead of my sincere apology for breaking his heart. “Very well, Andre. Thank you for accepting my apology. Truly I meant you no harm.”
The waiter came and took our order. He brought the wine that Andre had requested. Andre and I were silent until the waiter left.
Then Andre spoke. “I appreciate your apology darling and I shall accept it right after God does. You know of course that this matter must be cleared with the Church prior to our marriage. Like God, I’m a forgiving man. So, I shall forgive you after this is addressed in confession, which is necessary prior to marriage. You could address any other immoralities at that time and walk forward with a clean soul and body for your husband.”
The way Andre spoke about confession, I could feel that he knew things that he didn’t share. My stomach turned in summersaults and my heart sank as I imagined him following Jean-Paul and me. It would be best to bring everything out in the open, honestly talking with one another, as I remember doing when we were children. Too much was at stake this time. Andre would only be hurt and infuriated by my confession. He knew that Jean-Paul and I had been alone, but the details did not need to be expressed. Words could not explain to Andre how my body and soul pined for Jean-Paul with an aching greater than I have ever known. Telling him that our bodies became one being sharing the same space would not be understood by this man who had never felt that sensation. Nor would he care.
“Of course, Andre. I will go to confession before I’m wed.”
“I know you will, darling. It’s required. I encourage you to share all discretions, including your relations with Monsieur Soule, in order to be clean entering the marriage.”
“Oui. I shall.” What did he know?
“There’s another matter Cherish…I mean Cherie. Your parents, my parents and I spoke over the past week. We all agreed that it’s best that you and I marry as soon as possible.”
“Excuse me? What do you mean? Why would we rush our wedding?”
“Because darling, I’m far away from Paris for two more years. Focusing on school work would be impossible if I’m to worry about suitors who may try to steal my fiance away from me. When you’re my wife, you can accompany me to Aix-Marseille and make me meals, rub my shoulders and keep me happy and focused. You may travel home to see your family and I shall know that you are mine.”
I stared at Andre. It didn’t matter what he wanted, because within a week’s time I would board a boat out of Paris. Yet it baffled me that my parents and Andre felt responsible for decisions regarding my life.
“When do you think it would be best to wed?” I sputtered.
“The priest said he could do a ceremony, to legalize our union before God, prior to me returning to school. Then during my summer school break, your parents have agreed to host a large celebration with a ceremony in our honor.”
“My mother has agreed to this? Does she not worry about the appearance of such a wedding?”
“Your parents agreed that since Jean-Paul has left you, and you’re in this distraught state, and considering your past behavior, marriage is a wise solution.”
“I do not appreciate other people taking liberty with my life.”
“Get used to it, darling. That’s how life is. Women submit to their husbands. It is stated in the Bible. Surely you know this. You mustn’t be so naive about things.”
Our dinner arrived. My plate of filet mignon and sweet potatoes looked and smelled well prepared, but my stomach tightened and I didn’t want to eat a bite. With my fork I pushed food around on my plate, pretending to consume it.
It was pointless to argue so I dug for information. “How were you aware that Jean-Paul left Paris?”
“I
believe I heard the news from your father.”
“Did my father share the strange way in which Jean-Paul left?”
“Not in detail. He stated that the man left abruptly.”
“Do you find it strange?”
“Non, not under the circumstances. This Jean-Paul obviously felt guilty for interfering with a woman promised to another man. All men know the seriousness of such behavior…and the consequences.”
The tone and confidence in Andre’s voice gave me further confirmation of his involvement. This was a dangerous subject and I opted to change the topic. “Where are you expecting that we shall live? Not in the male dormitory, as you do. Are we to get a flat?”
“Yes, darling. I shall return to school after we are wed and will have a house for us in a month or two. You may live with your parents until I find the proper place for us to dwell. Until then I shall miss your soft skin and warm kisses that I shall enjoy on our wedding day.”
Silently I sulked, not responding to Andre. I drank my wine and asked for more. I wanted to leave Paris tonight and not wait for Martine to make all of the arrangements she was fussing about.
During the rest of the meal Andre talked about moving back to Paris after he graduated and becoming the best attorney in France. Politely I nodded, happy that we were off the subject of marriage. The rest of dinner was spent with Andre trying to convince me how great life would be when he graduated, while I tried to prevent myself from vomiting. The wine seemed to help. By the end of the dinner my speech and judgment were influenced by the alcohol.
Andre and I rode to my home in an open carriage. When we arrived at my door, he held my hand firmly while we sat unmoved on the bench seat. “We shall be wed in ten days my sweet. Now is an appropriate time to have a celebratory kiss.” With the effects of the wine swimming in my head, I braced myself and shut my eyes, allowing Andre to bring his selfish lips to mine. As his lips touched me, a strange thought occurred to me. I was selfish also. Andre and I both wanted to have what made us happy. The difference was that he had to force me into marriage to get his way and I had to leave him stranded to get mine. In either case, one of us would hurt the other. It didn’t seem fair that each of our happiness would only come at the cost of the other.
Painted with Love: Romance Eludes Time and Death Page 10
