Chapter Seventeen #2
It was an odd moment. If there had been any remaining barriers between us, they were all gone now. Completely crumbled. I was seeing him exactly as he was. And he was seeing me too.
“You’re a natural.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“Stop it. I’ve had practice. There were plenty of little ones who needed carrying around the orphanage.”
“Ah! I could have guessed. Though you never talk about your days at—what was it again?—the Saint Something Maison des Filles Innocentes.”
“Yes, something like that.” I smiled, so happy to be in his presence. I’d ached for this.
“I wondered if it was an off-limits topic.”
“Not for any reason. We just hadn’t gotten to it yet.”
“Thank you for helping. And I’m sorry our talk has been so thoroughly hijacked.”
“You really have your hands full today.”
“I do. And for the foreseeable future.” He shrugged. The little boy was playing with the collar of Benoit’s shirt, quiet and content. Whatever happened to make them both cry had been forgotten. “I will have to start all over with my search for help with my mother.”
Just then, a small, wet hand landed on my cheek. Not a slap, but a deliberate touch, as if Brigitte was making sure I was real.
“Oh!” I looked at her brightly. The best idea dawned on me. “I know someone who might be able to help.”
We sat on the floor with the children, enticing them with toys while I explained what Apolline had told me about her daughter needing a position.
And later, when Rachelle had settled their mother and come back to the nursery, I left to pay a call on Apolline.
Needless to say, she was thrilled to see me.
I returned to Benoit’s apartment with Apolline’s daughter, Collette, a few hours later.
She was a sturdy, tall girl with a wide, appeasing smile.
By this time, the housekeeper was back from her errands and a thin sense of control had been returned to the home.
They put Collette to work right away. And I volunteered to straighten up the nursery—not because I hoped one day I’d have a nursery filled with my own children to clean up after, but because it felt nostalgic.
I’d had a nursery like this in my house once, a long time ago.
And it was nice to be around the business of a family again, even a family in the midst of a crisis.
I put blocks in a basket, folded diapers and tiny shirts, and arranged stuffed animals on shelves, returning the room to some semblance of order.
Later, I found Benoit in the same parlor where we’d started my visit. This time he was smoking a cigarette. He stood when I came in.
“May I join you? Only for a minute.”
“Of course.” He held out his cigarette case. I slid one out, and he struck a match to light it for me.
I sat across from him. This time we were in opposite chairs from where we’d been sitting this morning when I arrived. “I won’t keep you.”
“Please. You’ve been a great help today. Thank you, again, for Collette. I never would have known a solution was so close at hand.” He smiled, and his eyes were as sincere as they were sparkling blue. He still wasn’t wearing a tie. And his hair still wasn’t combed into place. “I owe you one.”
“No, please. You don’t owe me anything.” I smoothed my hands down the front of my gray split skirt, pushing down my instinct to leave without saying it. But I couldn’t. “And remember, I told you I didn’t come in a professional capacity.”
“Our personal affairs, right?” I had his full attention now. “Tell me what you want to say about the way we left our personal affairs, Vanessa.”
I took a breath to steel myself. All the words I’d arranged and planned in my head had dissipated over the course of the day.
Suddenly, I couldn’t remember where I’d planned on starting.
So I just started. “I want to take back what I said about not wanting us to… see what happens… between us now that we’re back in Paris. ”
He watched me intently as he smoked, but didn’t react or respond.
“I thought that was what I wanted, for us to be done. But I was wrong. Quite wrong.” As the words came out, I gained steam.
I sat up taller in the seat, looked him right in the eyes.
“And the fact is that I can’t stop thinking about you.
I can’t stop wanting to see you and talk to you.
I’ve been in agony for weeks now because I screwed up so badly. I want to take all that back.”
“And then what?”
“And then, I want you to come to the door of the house where I live. I want to introduce you to Madame Tremblay. I want it to be just like you said it could be before I messed everything up.”
“But what about the job? I should have told you as soon as I knew it was likely I’d get it. I’m sorry about that.”
“I don’t even care about work anymore. I mean, I do, but not really.
Not about L’Entreprise or the editor job or any of that.
I was using it as a crutch to keep people away, to keep myself alone and safe in my aloneness.
It’s easier that way, at least it is when you know how painful it is to lose people.
” I swallowed hard. I didn’t want to cry, but it seemed that was all I did lately.
“I just don’t want to be without you in my life anymore. ”
He put his cigarette out in a brass ashtray and leaned out across the space between us with his arms outstretched. “Come here.”
I rose from my chair, put my cigarette out, and reached for his hands.
He pulled me over and into his firm lap.
I put my arms around him, and it was such a relief to be so close.
He smelled familiar, like himself, but also faintly of baby powder.
I inhaled as if I hadn’t in ages, and I sunk into him.
He put his hand on my chin and tipped my face toward his.
He looked at me for a moment, taking me in with his sparkly blue eyes, and then he kissed me, firm and slow, pulling me closer to him, as close as I could get.
His mouth opened against mine, pressing deeper, reacquainting, and reuniting after so much time away.
My hands threaded through his hair, and he squeezed my thighs through the layered fabric of my skirt.
I was struck with a powerful desperation.
I’d been so afraid that I’d never be with him like this again, this close.
But now here we were. After so long, kissing him was like drinking water in the desert or coming up for air after swimming under water for a long time.
My whole body ignited in his arms. I groaned from the ache.
Then he broke away and said, “I don’t want to be without you either.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He kissed me again, quieting me.
Then he pulled away and looked at me, his mouth swollen and pink.
His eyes had darkened. But there was something else there too.
It was hesitation. “No need to rush. And we need to talk about things. Being with me might not be so easy, as you have seen today.”
“No. That’s not true.” I put a hand on each of his shoulders and looked him firmly in the eyes.
He looked away. “It is true. You don’t want to be tied down. And I am tied down tight.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I’m saying we should take it slow. We should see what happens.”
I nodded and kissed him again. Another long, insistent, forgiving kiss.
I could take it slow. I wanted to strip off his clothes and have him all right there.
But that was worth waiting for. We kissed for a while longer, and I told him about Apolline’s pictures and my missing cat.
And then we parted with plans for a romantic date the following evening.