by Linda Kepner
“Oh, oui, madame,” said Bettina fervently.
“Here are the plans, such as I know them,” Bishou said. “Mademoiselle Bourjois and I are going shopping, to get her some lighter clothing for La Réunion — she is wearing winter Paris clothes. I am probably going to stop by the université, and we might stop at Chez Ma Tante. But I promised Monsieur Dessant I would meet him here when he came home for lunch.”
“That is usually about one, Madame,” said Bettina.
“Then Adrienne Bourjois and I will have just tea and biscuits at Chez Ma Tante, and leave room for a little lunch,” said Bishou. “Monsieur and I have an appointment or two this afternoon, so Mlle. Bourjois might be the only one here, but she will be alone only briefly. My brothers will return from their beach day by then, I am certain. Dinner will be at the usual time, for all of us. And the boys might want a little supper later in the evening — you know what boys’ appetites are like.”
Madeleine was obviously relieved. “I did not know if you would understand what the mistress of the house needs to tell us, Mme. Dessant. And Monsieur Dessant told us nothing this morning, and left it to you.”
“I will try to keep you apprised of what is happening in your own house,” said Bishou with a wry smile. “And please ask me if you wonder if I have forgotten something. I may have.”
“Mademoiselle Bourjois — will everything be all right now, with her?” asked Bettina anxiously.
“I think so,” Bishou responded. “We’ll go shopping, and do girls’ things today. And — perhaps it is vulgar to say it — I think she is making friends with my brother Jean-Baptiste.”
“I was wondering if you had noticed that, Madame,” said Bettina. “He is making friends with her, too, you know.”
“Well, he is a very attractive man,” said Madeleine, “just like our Monsieur Dessant.” Then she blushed.
“Oui,” said Bishou gently, “and well I know it.”
“We’ll do our cleaning upstairs while you ladies are gone,” Bettina resumed. “Then if either of you want a nap, or a bath, or to try on new clothes, everything will be ready.”
“Excellent,” said Bishou. “Then we will see you sometime after noon.”
“Oui, Madame,” they chorused.
Back in the dining room, Adrienne asked, “Is the household all set?”
“Yes. They’ll clean the upstairs while we are gone, in case we need to rest from the heat when we get back. Oh, Adrienne, you definitely won’t need that black sweater. Just leave it on a chair. Bettina can put it away.”
“I am so used to Paris in cool weather,” Adrienne explained.
“This is La Réunion in summer,” said Bishou with a smile. “Viens!”
Adrienne almost had to run to keep up with Bishou as she strode down Rue Dessant. They waited for the bus. Armand slowed down while Adrienne hopped onto an outside seat. Bishou climbed on long enough to give Armand his money, then dropped into a seat beside Adrienne.
“Bonjour, Madame Bishou!” Armand greeted her cheerily. “Where are you going?”
“Rue Marché first,” Bishou replied. “Armand, this is my sister-in-law, Mademoiselle Adrienne.”
“Bonjour, Mademoiselle Adrienne!” the driver greeted her. “Welcome to our island. Did you come for the wedding? I don’t remember seeing you.”
“Non, I came later,” Adrienne replied truthfully.
“Ah, well, you missed a good wedding. Bienvenue! Enjoy your time here, mademoiselle!” Armand laughed.
“Merci, I shall.”
They watched mynahs and flycatchers, looked at cotton and tobacco and sugar cane in the fields, all those things Bishou had enjoyed on her first day on the island. At last, country gave way to town, and they were at Rue Marché, Market Street.
Adrienne changed into a sundress they bought at Mme. Ross’s store. They bought underwear, and a second sundress. They bought a sunhat. Adrienne’s own clothes went into the shopping bag. “Whew,” said Adrienne. “I feel cleaner now.”
“I imagine Bat’s pajama top was clean, too,” Bishou laughed. “Certainly not used by him. I don’t know why he bothers to pack a set.”
“It was still folded when he gave it to me,” Adrienne admitted with a smile, “and he was not in the least embarrassed about it. Is he always like that?”
“Well, you know, Jean-Baptiste was a soldier, in charge of soldiers,” Bishou replied. “A mother-hen for a battalion. His boys must wash up and look good, but that doesn’t necessarily mean clothes that match. I don’t think any man worries about that. Except, perhaps, businessmen like Louis. For them, it is their uniform.”
Then they went to the shoe store. Bishou bought Adrienne a set of comfortable sandals, but also pointed out a daintier pair of white heels. “They’ll go well with the sundresses when you dress up,” Bishou said.
“Oh, this is too much to ask you to buy,” Adrienne demurred, but it didn’t sound as though her heart was in it.
“I think they’ll look rather nice on you,” said Bishou, and bought them.
They walked back a few blocks to Missy’s bodega, which also sold sundries. Adrienne needed a hairbrush and toothbrush. Then, at Chez Ma Tante, they had tea and biscuits, as promised, at a café table on the sidewalk. They had just been served when Bishou heard a voice call, “Docteur Dessant!”
Bishou looked up to see Mme. Cantrell bearing down on them, with a male friend. “Bonjour, Madame!” Bishou greeted her. “How are you today?”
“Fine, thank you. We were just leaving, and I thought I would stop and say hello. Bertrand, this is Dr. Bishou Dessant, of the Humanities Department at UFOI. Bishou, Monsieur Bertrand Holian of the Bureau of Cultural Affairs.”
“So nice to meet you.” Bishou gave the gentleman her hand to shake. “Adrienne, this is Mme. Cantrell of the Library Society of Saint-Denis. Madame, my sister-in-law, Mademoiselle Adrienne Bourjois.” Exactly the kind of social life Louis realized the Bourjois girls had expected on the island.
“How nice!” said Mme. Cantrell. “I hadn’t realized your brother was married.”
“Non, he is not,” said Bishou. “It is my husband who was married. He was a widower when I married him.”
“Oh,” said Mme. Cantrell apologetically to Adrienne, “I forgot. How I put my foot in things. Forgive me.”
“Certainly,” said Adrienne.
“And how are you finding married life, Bishou?” Mme. Cantrell boomed. “Already a little dull, eh?”
Adrienne smiled as broadly as Bishou, aware of her own part in dispelling the dullness. “Not really,” Bishou replied.
“Monsieur Holian is always looking for new blood for the Cultural Commission.” Mme. Cantrell beamed at them. “You should both consider giving him your time.”
“Ah, non, Monsieur, not yet,” Bishou replied. “I am still finding my way through a fresh job and a new marriage. And my sister-in-law will be returning to Paris.”
“Paris! Oh, my goodness. I hadn’t realized the Dessants still had relatives in Paris.”
“Not exactly,” Adrienne replied. “I have a job there. I am a senior researcher at the Bibliothèque Nationale.”
“Oh, my goodness!” said Mme. Cantrell again. Her companion’s eyes widened.
“Well!” he exclaimed. “Mme. Cantrell has been telling me of the talent that abounds in the Dessant family, and I thought she might be exaggerating. But I see she was not!”
“Have you been there for long?” asked Mme. Cantrell tactlessly.
“Oui, for twenty-one years.”
“Ma foie!” Madame exclaimed, “one would never suspect it from looking at you.”
“You are kind, Madame.”
They made their excuses and their goodbyes, and went on their way. Both Bishou and Adrienne waited until they were well out of sight before they burst into laughter.
“Well!” said Adrienne, “some types are universal, aren’t they?”
“All the subtlety of a volcano. But, I understand, a good heart.”
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Adrienne made a face, and drank tea. “The université might force you to be on a local commission, as a representative of the department, if they think it would be a good move politically, Bishou. I’ve seen that done before. It might be a good idea to put yourself on some local or academic board you like, before they issue any ultimatum.”
“I will keep your advice in mind.”
Adrienne sighed. “Me, giving you good advice. And only yesterday I was making a mad fool of myself.”
Bishou put her elbow on the table and rested her head on her hand with a smile. “Adrienne, you are speaking to someone who has spent far too long in the field of literature, studying passion. Your passionate love, and equally passionate rage, are the marks of a good woman. Don’t apologize any more, no more than Louis should.”
“He was quite abject in his apology.”
“He has been thoroughly raped,” said Bishou, “as thoroughly as any virgin. Even now, he is hurt and bewildered by everything that happened to him. Little by little he begins to understand, and recover.”
“I imagine prison didn’t help,” said Adrienne thoughtfully.
“No — but nothing would have, at that time. He was beyond help then. And now, he has paid the State for his crimes, and he is paying the church for all the commandments he has broken.”
“I saw that he wears a penitent’s cord beneath his day-clothes.”
“Is that what one calls it? Yes, he does. I was so afraid Père Reynaud would just charge a fee for an indulgence — I am so glad he is making Louis work for his penance, and think about things.”
“But, penitence notwithstanding, you and Louis — you are lovers, are you not?”
“Certainly we are.”
“Do you plan to have children?”
“Yes. I would like a little Celie-Ange, myself.” Celie-Angel.
“Do you think you might already be pregnant?”
“I might be. I don’t know. It is a natural part of life, and I have no intention of thwarting Nature.”
“That is good to hear. I had so hoped to become an aunt — ” Adrienne bit her lip.
“You may still be,” said Bishou.
Adrienne placed her hand on Bishou’s. “Then — when you are ready to christen Celie-Ange — telephone me.”
“You have my promise.”
“You and Jean-Baptiste, and your brothers — you are rather independent of your parents, are you not?”
“Yes and no. Our mother is in a wheelchair. Our father forgets things. Jean-Baptiste and I made it our business, long ago, to be certain that Andre and Gerard did not lack for anything because of that. We determined until Gerard is eighteen, one or other of us would always be at home with our parents and with the boys. It — ” she paused, but could not find a simple way to say it, “ — it has proved necessary.”
“But you got your doctorate. Jean-Baptiste served in the military.”
“We took turns. It was part of our deal with each other.”
“Ah, I see.” Adrienne was very thoughtful. “Forgive me for sounding rude, but — are you just transferring your mothering instincts to Louis Dessant?”
“That’s a legitimate question. I wondered, a little bit, myself. But I think the answer is no. I hope we have children, yes. If we do, I hope I will know what to do for them. But Louis himself? Non. He is a man — an incredibly attractive, sexually mature man. We are a man and a woman together, husband and wife. There is no mothering there.”
“And you and Jean-Baptiste?”
“Nous sommes les jumeaux. The twins together, mock parents together, brother and sister when apart.” Bishou drank her tea, and smiled. “We can balance a checkbook, change the oil filter on the car, call in a plumber, or take everyone to the cinema.”
“Family survival skills,” said Adrienne with a wry smile. “As I once did for my little sister Celie.”
“That’s it, exactly. Survival skills. That is what Jean-Baptiste and I do together, survive. But there is much more to life than merely survival.” Bishou did not feel comfortable telling her about Amy. Let Bat tell his story, if he wished. Not her.
Adrienne was lost in a memory. “We were alone in the world, after Maman and Papa died — Maman of cancer, and Papa of a heart attack, within a year of each other. I so felt the responsibility for taking care of my little sister. And she was so — so starry-eyed, Bishou. Everything would be wonderful. She would place marriage advertisements, and Prince Charming would appear and carry her off, and we would all be happy forever after. And then my baby vanished, and I just went mad.”
“Well, you have met Gerard — my little brother, Gerry. I am just as certain that Jean-Baptiste and I would go mad if anything happened to him.”
“But you let him take my gun and run off with it.”
“The Howards are a team, not a parental unit. Gerry and Andy are both part of that team. We never replace our parents, just supplement them.”
“Hm,” said Adrienne. “You decided that long ago, did you not?”
“Yes, when our father’s memory first started to disappear. We felt that our brothers had a right to the life of normal boys, and it would be the duty of Jean-Baptiste and me to make sure they had that opportunity. Above all, they needed security and trust.”
They finished their tea, and hunted up the bus stop. Soon, another island bus came by, driven by a different Creole driver. Bishou laughed, climbed inside, and dropped four or five Dessants in his hand. “So how are you related to Papa Armand?”
“Son-in-law,” the driver replied promptly, grinning. “Merci, Madame Bishou. Bonjour, Mademoiselle. Where to, université?”
“Oui, université.”
Sitting beside Bishou in a cramped, crowded bus, but smiling, Adrienne asked, “Are they all related?”
“Even my hairdresser,” Bishou confirmed with a smile.
“I thought your hair looked rather nice. Rather — free and natural,” Adrienne said. “If I was going to be here longer, I would hunt up your hairdresser, but not for this short a trip.”
“Next time,” said Bishou, and Adrienne chuckled.
They got off the bus at the Université stop. The gates and courtyard of UFOI, so tiny and provincial and quaint, amused Adrienne, compared to what she knew in Paris. She walked with Bishou to the Humanities building, and entered the front office with her.
Mme. Ellis stood up immediately. “Dr. Dessant! Your timing couldn’t be better. I just finished typing up your contract!” She brought it to the front counter.
Bishou read carefully. Sure enough, it was a one-year teaching contract for an adjunct part-time professor of comparative literature. She passed each page over to Adrienne as she finished reading it.
“This is good,” Adrienne murmured. “You have medical rights to the university hospital. I hadn’t realized there was a medical school attached to this. The medical and pension benefits are pretty consistent with my own.”
“And where do you work, Madame?” asked Mme. Ellis.
“Bibliotheque Nationale,” Adrienne replied.
“What!” Mme. Ellis exclaimed.
Bishou looked up from her paperwork. “Oh, mes apologies, Mme. Ellis. Adrienne, Mme. Ellis of the Humanities Department. Madame, Mlle. Adrienne Bourjois, my sister-in-law.” They greeted each other.
“What do you think?” Bishou asked Adrienne of the contract.
“It’s all right. Are you satisfied with the wage?” Adrienne returned.
“It’s a wage appropriate for a doctorate, and they’ve spelled out my class-hour obligations fairly well. I don’t think I’ll really know until I try it for a year.”
“And vice versa,” said Adrienne. “You may find that your other obligations eat up too much of your time.”
“I was about to mail this to you, certified mail,” said Mme. Ellis. “Why don’t you take it with you, to study, and just give me a receipt?”
Bishou nodded, wrote on a piece of blank paper that she had both copies of her co
ntract and its contract number, and tucked the contract and its copy into her purse.
“By the way, Dr. Dessant,” said Mme. Ellis, almost blushing, “I truly enjoyed your lecture.”
“Me too,” said one of the other, younger, secretaries.
Bishou thanked them, and they left the office. They went back to the bus stop, and took the next bus for Rue Dessant. As they rode, Bishou told Adrienne about the expository lecture she had given. It was a pleasant ride back into the countryside. At last, their stop arrived. They hopped off the bus and walked up Rue Dessant.
Chapter 13
The white car and the yellow Panhard were parked in front. It was well past one o’clock. Louis and Etien were at table. The men stood as the women entered the dining room. Adrienne was introduced to Louis’s shy, bespectacled business partner. Bishou and Adrienne took their packages upstairs, washed up, met again outside Adrienne’s door, and came down to luncheon.
Louis explained that Etien would be needed at this afternoon’s business appointments, so he had invited him home for lunch. Bishou could see, however, that Etien had been on pins and needles about Adrienne. He needed to see for himself that everything was all right. As Bishou and Adrienne talked about their morning shopping trip, tea break, and trip to the université, Etien relaxed visibly.
At last, they excused themselves to Adrienne, who announced she had no plans but a nice bath, a try-on of the new clothes, and perhaps some laundry, and went back out to their respective automobiles.
Louis and Etien pulled up in front of Caisse de La Réunion, the Bank of La Réunion, at the same time. Louis and Bishou waited at the door for Etien and they entered together.
Louis walked to the receptionist and said, “Dessant? We have an appointment with Monsieur Mouillard.”
“Ah, oui, Monsieur Dessant. Un moment, s’il vous plaît.” The receptionist pushed a button on her telephone. “Monsieur Mouillard? Monsieur et Madame Dessant and Monsieur Campard are here.”
They waited only a moment before a respectable graying banker appeared, making a beeline for Louis. “Ah, Monsieur Dessant,” he said, reaching out a hand. “So nice to see you again.”
