Chapter 17 #2
“We fell madly in love shortly after, and a few weeks later, when he had to go back home to Paris, we decided to get married, and I came back with him.” Her hand rests in the nook of the chair. Her leg bounces as she fidgets with her wedding ring.
After a moment, she reaches inside her small purse, pulls out a cigarette, and lights it. Once she takes a long inhale, her body relaxes. “That was three, almost four years ago.”
“And now? Are you still just as in love?”
Helen flicks the end of her cigarette into the nearby ashtray.
“The passion died out. After a few months in Paris, the couple we were in New York started to slip away. Antoine was buried deep in his work, and we stopped being the vivacious people we once were. Soon, I became an American all alone in Paris.” Helen’s eyes are filled with sadness.
“I still love him, and I know he still loves me. But some things can’t go back to what they once were—too much pain and heartache has been done. ”
She reaches out and takes hold of my hand. “I hope the love you both have is different from mine. I hope it’s both kind and gentle as much as it's passionate and all-consuming. Above all, I hope your love never fades away.”
I’m shocked by her story—her words of kindness and honesty. I’ve never met someone who bared it all to me like this. Even with close friends, this kind of honesty isn’t common back home.
A sudden hand on my shoulder jolts me upright. Glancing up, I’m relieved when I see Henry wearing a sweet smile on his face. “How are you feeling, love?”
Helen stands, giving us some privacy. “Excuse me. I need to step away to use the ladies’ room. I shall see you both later this evening during digestifs.”
“I hope you don’t mind, but I invited Mr. Meier along with us for digestifs,” Henry says.
I’m about to ask who he is referring to, then it registers that Mr. Meier must be the solo male traveler.
“Not at all,” Helen exclaims. “The more the merrier!”
Helen makes her way out of the lounge car, leaving the two of us alone.
“What do you say, should we make a run back to the suite to get a reprieve from all of this?” he whispers down to me.
“Yes, please,” I whisper. “I need to get out of here.”
I try to get up swiftly from the chair, but have a bit of an issue due to the contraption I briefly forgot I’m wearing. Henry takes my arm and helps me get to my feet. We make our way out of the lounge car when we hear a heavy blended accent of German and French.
“Mrs. Abbott.”
We turn to see the solo male traveler, Mr. Meier, coming toward us with a smile on his face, not seeming to notice that he interrupted us from escaping the lounge car.
Upon closer inspection, he looks to be around his mid-thirties, broadly built with short, slicked-back hair parted in the middle. He seems to be a man of some wealth, as he is wearing a well-tailored suit made of fine material and a matching silk pocket square.
“I have not had the chance to introduce myself to you.” He bows his head.
“Samuel Meier at your service. Your husband and I were discussing the English countryside earlier, and he informed me of your special interest and skills with horses. I know a few things about them myself, as I grew up on a horse farm in the Swiss region that borders Renan, France. Beautiful animals, aren’t they? ”
I nod, glancing at Henry. I can only hope I don’t say anything that will expose our fabrication.
“Indeed, they are,” I say, faking my enthusiasm. “Possibly one of the most graceful and majestic animals there is. How are you faring on the Simplon, Mr. Meier?”
“Exquisite,” he boasts. “The staff is wonderful, and the food is delicious. I can assure you both will enjoy your stay. Mr. Abbott was telling me earlier that you two were on an Italian holiday, and are now on your way home?”
This part of our story we did not discuss, but thankfully, Mr. Meier gave me enough information to infer what Henry’s already said.
“Yes, that is correct. We traveled along the Italian coast and concluded our holiday in Venice.” I place a protective hand over my torso, glancing at Henry with a loving smile. “Now we are ready to head back home and start building a family together.”
His gaze drifts down to my hand placement. “Yes, congratulations to you both on the impending addition to your family.”
“Thank you, Mr. Meier. What brings you to Paris?” I ask, feigning sincerity.
“Business. The Olympics are a great place to make business connections and secure new deals.”
“I can’t think of a better event to look for business opportunities,” Henry says with a polite smile. Henry places a hand on my shoulder, steering me out of the lounge car door. “If you will excuse us, my wife does need to lie down for a rest. We will see you later this evening for digestifs?”
Mr. Meier nods. “Yes, you will.” His gaze lands on me. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Abbott. Enjoy your rest.”
We escape the lounge car and take solace in the quiet emptiness of our suite.
“What do you think of the other passengers?” I ask Henry, unhooking the contraption from my torso while still keeping it on.
Henry pours us each a glass of water and sets mine into my open hand as we settle on the settee, collecting ourselves.
Henry shrugs as he takes a sip, looking out the window. “They seem alright, I suppose.” He shifts his eyes back to me. “Antoine is quite the character.”
“That’s for sure. My heart aches for Helen. She deserves so much more than what she’s been given. She told me how they met and what their life together has been like so far. It’s so sad, Henry. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”
“Antoine barely talked about Helen or their life. Mainly about himself and his wish to get his book published, which is how I gathered what the state of their relationship is.”
“You and Mr. Meier had a lengthy conversation. Anything of interest come out of that?”
Henry shakes his head. “Not unless you want to know all the details regarding his business and how he’s projecting the European market to grow.
But he is quite the talker and charmer, and he seems like a nice fellow, which is why I invited him to digestifs with everyone later.
He’d help lift the mood from any possible fallout with the Fourniers. ”
“Sounds like he and Edward would become good friends.”
“He and Edward might, but with me?” Henry shakes his head. “I have plenty of good friends already that I much rather prefer.” He gives me a sly smile, causing my cheeks to flush.
I look down at my lap, hiding my pinkened cheeks. “I hope the others are faring well on their trips.”
“Those three are the most well-traveled, self-determined, and self-capable people I’ve ever met. They are doing more than fine.”
I let out a sigh, releasing a bit of the pent-up worry that has been lingering inside my chest since we left Venice.
Henry is right. There is no doubt about it. I wish they didn’t have to go on their journeys all alone. I’m fortunate to have Henry accompany me. And now, having been through most of our travels, I cannot imagine doing any of this without him by my side.
Before we know it, it’s time for digestif.
With my hand in the crook of Henry’s arm, we make our way to the lounge car.
With each step, I become more anxious, as this will be the first time we will be socializing with a larger group.
It’s been manageable to keep the lies and deception in line when I’m talking to Helen, but adding two others into the mix will make it trickier for me to control.
Before I step foot into the lounge, I muster the courage of Athena, reminding myself I can handle this.
It’s only a few hours of socializing.
“Who shall we listen to first?” Helen asks aloud. She sorts through the container filled with gramophone records, picks up two, and turns to face me. “What do you think? Louis Armstrong or the Savoy Hotel Orpheans?”
“Easy. Armstrong, of course.”
Helen places the record on the gramophone, readying it to play, while Henry helps Antoine and Mr. Meier fill up flute glasses with champagne. When Armstrong’s transformative trumpet starts hitting my ears, I feel myself relax.
Henry makes his way toward me and hands over a flute filled with water. “Here you are, my dear,” he says.
With a glass in everyone’s hands, we gather in the center of the lounge car to make a toast.
“To new friends, new adventures, and expanding families.” Mr. Meier looks between Henry and me when mentioning the latter.
With the jazz music nearing the crescendo, and the bottle of champagne nearly empty, Antoine takes Helen’s hand and drags her to the open floor.
Swaying, twirling, and dipping to the music, a bright smile shines on Helen’s face.
They dance with a carefree sloppiness, as if they’re the only two in the room.
Their laughter is boisterous from the alcohol.
Mr. Meier makes his way to the center of the floor, one hand carrying a full glass of champagne, the other holding a freshly lit cigarette as he dances.
Suddenly, I feel a hand reach for mine, dragging me onto the open floor with the Fourniers.
“Come on, Mrs. Abbott, dance with me.” Henry draws close, his warm smile brushing his face, cheeks pink from the champagne.
One hand on my lower back, the other clasps my hand, and we begin to sway to the lively music.