by Linda Kepner
Then, they saw a car in the drive — an elderly gray Ford sedan.
Puzzled, Bishou asked, “Whose car is that?”
“I know I’ve seen it before.” Louis searched his memory. “Ah!” he said at last, “I know where I’ve seen it. At Garros.”
“The airport? I don’t understand.”
“We have guests.” Louis pulled up behind the gray car, and turned off the engine. His mood had changed. He hurried around the Mercedes, and opened Bishou’s door. “Come in and say hello to them.”
Bishou accompanied him to the house. She was surprised to see Louis open the door himself, rather than Bettina. Inside, they could hear voices from the kitchen, and laughter. The voices sounded familiar.
Louis led her to the kitchen and opened the door.
Bettina and Madeleine rose from the kitchen table, startled, smiles still on their lips. The man seated opposite them, with two boys eating a late supper, certainly needed no introduction.
“Oh, my Lord,” said Bishou, in English. “Bat, you’re here!”
Her brother stood, grinning. His eyes, as gray as hers, took in the nice clothes. “Wow.” Then he held out his arms. They embraced. “Hello, little sister, we’re here,” said Jean-Baptiste ‘Bat’ Howard.
From the other side of the table, Andre and Gerard came around, too, for their hugs and kisses. Bat shook Louis’s hand, but Louis reached out and hugged a younger boy with either arm. “Andy. Gerry.” He had thought this out in advance, and had the right name for the right boy. “I am glad you could make it here. Welcome.”
“Louis, it’s good to meet you.” Bat switched back to French, out of courtesy for the housekeepers.
“How did you get here?” Bishou asked.
“I told you, Garros.”
“I recognized the rental car from the airport,” Louis explained to her, “and realized the Howards had driven themselves here.”
Bat nodded. “We got directions to Rue Dessant, then got here and found out you were gone. Good thing you’d told the ladies that we’d be staying upstairs, because I didn’t know what the arrangements would be. Merde, Bishou, you look gorgeous. You didn’t do this for a lecture, did you?”
“Non, non,” said Louis, “we attended another reception afterward. But now, tout le monde knows the beautiful woman professeur at Université Français de l’Océan Indien. And her escort.”
Bat grinned. “That is as it should be.”
“Then come in to the salon with us,” said Louis. “Bettina, some tea for Mademoiselle Bishou and me.”
“Oui, monsieur,” said the housekeeper happily, as Louis led the way out of the kitchen back to his own comfortable sofa. Bat took the easy chair while Louis pulled Bishou onto the couch beside him.
In answer to her questions, Bat replied, “We left Logan and flew to Orly, it seems like days ago. Then Orly to Garros. The boys were thrilled with all the foliage and the jungle animals. They could just wander around your backyard until dawn.”
“But you look sleepy,” she told the boys. “The décalage is finally getting to you. You need to try to sleep, even though your bodies say it is daytime.”
“I’m not tired,” protested Andy.
“Come,” Bishou said, taking him in her arms. He leaned against her on the couch, while she leaned against Louis.
Bat commented to Louis, “I’ll bet you didn’t plan to take on an entire family.”
“I will take that bet,” said Louis good-naturedly. “They don’t call you ‘les jumeaux’ for nothing. It is the whole family, not just you two.”
“Well, that is true,” Bat admitted. “Any two of us are ‘the twins,’ really.”
“I have figured out that part,” Louis replied, his arm around Bishou’s shoulders.
Andy looked up at him, past Bishou. “What do we call you? You’re even older than Bat. Calling you just ‘Louis’ doesn’t seem right.”
“The Campard boys call me Oncle Louis, and I’m not truly their uncle,” Louis replied seriously. “Would you rather call me that, too, even though it is not quite accurate?”
Andy consulted Gerry, beside him on the couch, with a look, then looked back again at Louis. “Sure. That would be good.”
“Bon. Oncle Louis it is, then.” He drew Bishou closer. “And what do you think of your sister? A beautiful woman, hein? Did you ever notice before?”
“Not really.” Andy nestled against her.
“But Bat said we’d see her differently now, because you did,” Gerry contributed.
“Oh, he did,” said Bishou. Bat grinned and said nothing. “Did he tell you I would always love you as much as I do?”
“Yes, he did,” said Andy, eyes closed.
“Good,” she said softly, kissing the top of his head. “I’m glad he realized that part. I will always love you.”
“Aussi,” said Louis, just as softly. “Now. Did Bettina show you the room upstairs where you boys will stay?”
“Yes. We took our suitcases up.”
“Good. Now, Bat. You take them up and put them to bed, and come back to us.”
“Yes, sir. Come on, boys.”
After they left the room, Bishou said to Louis, “You are handling them just the right way. They need a commander-in-chief.”
“I rather thought so. Besides, I am being selfish.” Louis kissed her. He placed his hand under her breast, and kissed below her throat. In her ear, he said, “I may be acquiring your family, but you are ma femme.”
She sighed, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him. “Oh, mon mari.”
“What do you say?” he prompted with a smile.
“Ah, oui.”
She slipped off her shoes and lay on the couch, her head in his lap. His hand rested on her breast and stomach.
“Go to sleep,” he said. “I will get you back to the pension, I promise.”
She closed her eyes.
Bettina’s voice. “Is she asleep, monsieur?”
“Not yet,” he replied. “But she had a very strenuous day, between teaching and this reception.” She heard the clink of a teacup and saucer. “Merci. Leave the other here, in case she wakes.” His tone changed. “What?”
“Oh, she is so beautiful, Monsieur. And kind. I am so happy for you.”
“Oui. And kind. Now scat.”
Bettina giggled. “Oui, Monsieur.”
A few minutes later, she heard Bat sit down again in the other chair. “Is she asleep?”
“Oui.”
“I’m glad. She’s been overdoing it again.”
“There are so many things she wants,” said Louis.
“Not really,” said Bat. “Only one thing she wanted. And she got him.”
“You flatter me.”
“Non,” Bat insisted. “She wrote me months ago, from Virginia, and said, ‘I have seen him, the only man I want.’”
“Really?”
“And listed all the reasons why there was no hope in hell of it happening.”
Louis’s hand stroked her body. “To think I never noticed her there, caught up as I was in my own problems.”
“When did you decide she was the one?”
“Back here, without her. I argued with Etien. You know, I love the Campard family; they have stood by me through thick and thin. But whenever I mentioned my first wife’s name, they suppressed me firmly. In Virginia, Bishou and the others let me mention Carola, and saw nothing wrong with it. She had been part of my life. I said her name here, thinking no more of it than that, and Etien grew angry. He told me I must not speak of her again. And damn it, no matter how horrible it became toward the end, there was a time that I loved her and she was my wife. I could have grown furious with him — but Bishou was at my shoulder, saying, non, non, he is your best friend, state your reasons for your anger. Work this through. And I did. I told Etien I was un veuf, I had a right to live as one. Bishou was there, saying, work this reasonably. We did. I realized I wanted her here, helping me with my life. I had begun wondering what I
could do to bring her here, just my little dreams, when she showed up at the Campards’ doorstep. Even she admits it was as if I summoned her.” He stroked her hair. “Now, we are doing what other people have seen in us, all along.”
“You could be right,” said Bat.
Again, Louis stroked her hair. “I was — how to say it — badly burnt. Une vierge trahisée.” A virgin betrayed. So he knew that.
“Tough thing for a man to say,” said Bat.
“Tough thing to live,” Louis returned.
“Did you ever think about ending it, yourself?” Only Bat would dare ask.
“Oui, I did. But I think I have never completely given up hope. My dark days, I said, ‘There must be more than this.’”
“I’m glad,” said Bat. “That augurs good things for the future. Bishou could tell you of the miserable Viet vets washed up on our doorstep, asking for me, saying isn’t there more than this, Sergeant-Major, I need something. Like me, she has always welcomed them with open arms. If they are asking, there is hope. The hopeless ones stay home and eventually kill themselves.”
“I do understand, Bat. And you understand that there is a place here for you, too, and the boys. You now have a home on each side of the world.” His weight shifted; apparently he and Bat had reached out and shaken hands.
Bishou shifted and moaned slightly. She sat up. “Mmph. I fell asleep.”
“You must have needed it, ma petite,” said Louis fondly. “You have had a busy day.” He held her as she once held him, long ago in Virginia, half-asleep. He drew her against his body and reached for a cup. “Here. This tea is cool enough now.” She sipped from the cup he held to her lips. “Still sleepy, hein?”
“Oui. I must go to bed.”
“I will take you back to the pension.”
Bishou sighed. “I might sleep until noon, now that the pressure is off.”
Bat chuckled. “I’ll bet you’ll wake with the nine o’clock ferry.”
“I always do,” she admitted.
“I am the one who will be too excited to sleep,” said Louis. “Even the boys with their décalage, they will pass out. They won’t spend a restless night.”
“We’ll think up something to do tomorrow,” Bat told him.
“Brother,” Bishou threatened, “you will not bring him to church on Friday morning, hung over. I will kick your ass from here to Paris if you do.”
“No, ma’am,” said Bat. Louis grinned. “We’ll phone and leave a message what we’re doing, once we get a plan. I’m thinking, a whole ocean, we ought to get out on it.”
“Again, I remind you that alcohol and water don’t mix, no more here than on a New England lake.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Bat lifted up a packet from the floor beside him. “By the way, this is for you. From our parents.” He handed it across.
Puzzled, Bishou gently untied the string and opened the packet. There were two envelopes, and a tissue-wrapped package that contained a yard of white lace. “Why, this is from Maman’s veil.”
“Yeah!” Bat was equally surprised. “It’s been in her bureau drawer for thirty years. Who would have thought she was saving it for her daughter’s wedding?” He watched her examining the envelopes. “A letter from each of them?”
“Yes. Both marked ‘Personal.’”
Bat smiled wryly. “And, I’ll bet, both full of advice.”
“Some of it good,” she agreed. “I’ll read them tonight.”
“Come.” Louis stood, and reached out a hand. “I’ll take you home.”
They were silent until they reached the pension. Louis shut off the engine, turned to her, and kissed her passionately. “This has been a good day,” he murmured in her ear. “It lacks only one thing — my wife in my bed. If your brother hadn’t been there, I think you might have stayed. Now we will never know, will we?”
She laughed quietly and kissed him again. “Bonne nuit, mon amour.”
“Bonne nuit.” Another kiss. “Let me get your dress bag from the trunk — although it seems foolish, for in another day, it will come to my house anyway.”
“Then take it back with you,” she replied. “I had forgotten about it. There’s really nothing there I will need tomorrow.”
“You are certain?”
“I am certain.”
“All right.” He got out of the car, came around, and opened her door. They walked to the front door of the pension.
Joseph opened the door. “Ah, bonsoir, mademoiselle, monsieur. I was just locking up.”
“I’m here, Joseph.” She turned and kissed Louis one last time, then went inside.
Joseph smiled as he barred the door. “You look very nice tonight, mam’selle.”
“Merci, Joseph. It has been a long day. Bonne nuit.”
“Bonne nuit, mam’selle. Sleep well.”
“Thank you, the same to you.” She went upstairs to her room, changed into her pajamas, and washed up.
She got out the letters her parents had sent, and opened Dad’s first.
“Ma chère Bishou,” he wrote, “Jean-Baptiste has told us a very little about the man you will marry. Of course I am anxious — my little girl! You have taken many dares, but they have all been here in North America. Now I am watching you move to Africa, to a land I am told is as close to paradise on earth as one might find. But these visions might be deceitful — one does not know until one lives it.
“Oh, mon enfant, it was so good to have you here for so long, taking care of the boys while your brother was in the military. But even then, I thought, perhaps hoped, that someday you would want children of your own. I already know that you will be a good wife and mother, because I have seen you with the boys. You are patient, loving, and kind.
“Jean-Baptiste has not told me much about Louis, except that he is indeed the Louis Dessant of the Dessant Cigarette family. He is wealthy and well-established. But I seem to recall there was some scandal in that family, so do be careful, ma cherie.
“My heart breaks to think that I might never see you again, but we live in hope. May God bless you and your good husband. With love, Dad.”
Maman’s letter was quite different.
“Chère Bishou, my little girl,” she wrote, “You are young and strong, and not as cynical as your brother Jean-Baptiste, so I worry for you. You willingly go to a man’s bed half a planet away, with no one to aid you if he should be cruel to you. I think Jean-Baptiste will stay long enough to make certain you are all right, but one never knows. If this man Louis is rich, he may also be intemperate and inconsiderate. Every man has only one way to show his love to a woman, he gives his body. Do not mistake love for physical passion! But if you give your soul to him, give also your body. To a man, that means so much more.
“I send my maman’s lace to you, so that it may continue down through the women of our family. I hope for your greatest happiness. Write us. With love, Maman.”
Maman certainly has her opinions on sex, Bishou thought. It’s lucky I wasn’t there to listen to an entire lecture on the topic — it would have been uncomfortable. She wondered when the last time her parents had made love, and suspected it was a long time ago.
With that thought, Bishou went to bed.
Chapter 6
In a way, Bat was right — Bishou woke up to the sound of the ferry’s horn. But then, she closed her eyes and fell asleep again.
She heard a tap, tap at her door, and hauled herself out of bed to open it. It was Eliane, amused at her disheveled guest. “Mademoiselle, you look exhausted.”
“What time is it?”
“Almost eleven.” The prim-looking elder sister held out a piece of paper. “I have a message from your brother Jean-Baptiste. He said to tell you the boys are at the Campards, and he and Louis were going to East Beach. The Ford is in front, if you want to use it today. You drive, I take it.”
Bishou stared. “Bat stopped here?”
Eliane nodded. “What a handsome young man, your brother, and so approachable! It was a p
leasure to meet him.” Yes, Bat had captivated the hostesses.
“Is the car all right, in front?”
“Of course. Would you rather park it in back?”
“Yes, please. I don’t need it for this morning’s errands, probably not until after lunch.”
“Dress and wash up, then, and Joseph will show you the alley to our back area. There’s room to park it there.” Eliane left.
Bishou washed up, and tried to clear the cobwebs from her brain. She dressed, went downstairs, and found Joseph. He showed her the alley and directed her through it to the little back areaway. As was their custom, Bat had left the keys above the visor, but now she placed them in her pocket. She locked the car. It would now be out of sight and out of mind until she needed it later.
Bishou walked to Rue Marché, Market Street. Her first stop was the jeweler; next was the florist. She saved her most time-consuming errand for last.
The Sundress Shop was having a busy morning. There were visitors, buying casual clothes for their vacation on Réunion Island. Madame Ross nodded to her, and finished with her current customers. When they left the store, Mme. Ross said, “Well, are you excited, Mademoiselle Bishou?”
“Very much. Is Ceci around?”
“Of course. Ceci!” Madame called to the back room. Ceci appeared, and nodded shyly at Bishou.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Bishou said apologetically. “But your hair is so much like mine — I wondered where you got it done.”
“Er — Mma Jo’s,” Cecil replied, “mais nous sommes noires.” But we’re black. “I straighten it, too.”
Mme. Ross was smiling. “Mademoiselle Bishou’s hair is naturally straight, but I can see what she means. She doesn’t want a permanent, or oil treatment, or anything usually done in a French hair salon, do you, Mademoiselle?”
“Yes, that’s it exactly. And, you see, I grew up with only brothers, and my mother has always been ill, so I haven’t had a lot of advice. And your hair is so nice.”
Mme. Ross explained to Bishou, “You must understand about Mama Josephine. She is hairdresser, sometimes barber, sometimes nurse midwife, whatever someone needs in her neighborhood.”
