Chapter 10
People joined them on the street, aroused from their slumber by the racket outside their windows, and informed Gabrielle that the police had been called. Although her voice was barely above a whisper, Gabrielle managed to briefly convey what had happened, since the majority of people didn’t speak English. A few were concerned that the wrong man was tied up and thrashing on the ground. One woman stepped forward, a nurse. She insisted that Gabrielle come inside her home to sit down and be doctored.
Andrew helped her walk inside, then stood stoic and alone on the doorstep, refusing to leave Gabrielle even for a moment. A small crowd gathered uneasily around Malcom, guarding the furious man even though Houdini himself could not have escaped his fetters.
The nurse, who had introduced herself as Marie, seated a shivering Gabrielle by the door and ran to fetch a blanket for her shoulders. Then, the lady brought a basin of warm water, a soft washcloth, towel, and bandages to bathe and cover Gabrielle’s wounds. She worked silently. Gabrielle was grateful for it, feeling the traumatic effects of shock setting in. She was unable to speak. Too many of her own questions needed answers before she could respond to the queries of others.
“The cut is not as bad as it looks,” Maria said cheerfully, bandaging the wound on Gabrielle’s forehead. “But I think you should be checked for concussion.” The nurse stepped back, cocking her head to one side and regarding her patient with a practised eye. “‘Ead wounds always bleed profusely. Fortunately, it won’t need stitches and the scar should disappear after it ‘eals. We wouldn’t want anything to mar your beautiful face.” The woman smiled. “Your shoulder needs to be checked as well.”
Gabrielle tried to return the smile, but it felt very lopsided. Her whole body ached. “Do—do you ‘ave any pain medication?” she croaked. “A-and water. My ‘eaddd…” Groggily she lifted a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes.
“Bien s?r.” Marie hurried to the nearby kitchen and came back with a bottle of pills and some water. “You must be parched.” Kindly she offered two tablets on her palm and steadied the glass as Gabrielle held it with shaking hands to take a drink. Water ran down her chin, dribbling onto her pink sweatshirt.
Marie set the glass down and took Gabrielle’s hands in her own, rolling back her sleeves to examine the angry red wounds on her wrists. “Ooh la la,” she said, shaking her head. “You ‘ave been through so much.” Setting to work, the kind woman cleaned and added a soothing ointment to the welts before wrapping them with gauze. “You need to see a doctor and then rest,” she said with concern. “I ‘ave seen you in this neighbourhood. Do you live nearby?”
“Y-yes, I live ‘ere, but no…I can’t go ‘ome.” Gabrielle shuddered. “‘E-e destroyed it.”
“It will all work out,” Marie said reassuringly, her face breaking into a wreath of lines as she smiled again. “Your ‘usband will take care of you. I witnessed the last moments of the fight from my bedroom window. It was impressive.” She rolled her eyes, lifted a hand, and fanned it in front of her face. “‘E is ‘ot, that one.”
“‘E is not my ‘usband,” Gabrielle managed to say. Despite her condition, laughter bubbled up inside her at the description, but quickly turned to tears. Heaving sobs rose in her chest until she could not contain them. Every muscle in her body leapt with pain, but still she could not stem the flow. She bent low over the chair, wracked with sobbing as though her heart were breaking. Maria rose to pull a few tissues from a box on her kitchen counter. She pressed them into Gabrielle’s hand.
The door was flung open, and Andrew charged into the room. “Is she alright?” he demanded of Marie. Sliding to his knees before Gabrielle, he pulled her gently into his arms.
“It is a reaction to all that ‘as ‘appened to her,” Marie explained. “She will be fine.”
Gabrielle melted into him, his warmth and strength cocooning her better than the coziest blanket ever could. He held her close, breathing reassurances into her ear and stroking her hair.
“You’re safe now,” he murmured. “The police have taken him away.”
She stiffened. “But…where—where is—is Annette. And—and my poor…the lady…Madame Moreau?”
Those were her only concerns. She needed to know her dear sister, and the woman who had been hurt by that monstrous man were alright. Gabrielle tried to pull away. She wanted to look into Andrew’s face to hear the news she feared, but she couldn’t stop crying long enough to do it.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “Annette is safe at my uncle and aunt’s home. She was worried sick and wanted to stay here with me, but I wouldn’t let her.” His face tightened. “Madame Moreau is in hospital with a concussion and a broken leg, but she will recover.”
Gabrielle broke into fresh tears of relief, draping herself over the shoulder of this wonderful man who had saved her life. A variety of emotions flooded her being. Her weeping continued unabated. In the background, Maria quietly retired to another room, allowing them privacy.
“Honey,” he said, stroking her back. “I was so scared when you were missing. But now you’re safe and I’m not going anywhere. Just cry as long as you need to.”
Her heart swelled. Andrew’s words of caring had a calming effect. After a few last, gulping breaths, her weeping ceased. A long sigh escaped her lips and Andrew cupped the back of her head. His closeness was like a balm to her soul.
“Merci de m”avoir sauvé,” she whispered, pressing her mouth to the soft skin of his neck. She felt his body become rigid. “Thank you for rescuing me.”
“I would have gone to the ends of the Earth to save you,” he said into her hair, his voice low.
Andrew slowly pulled back to search her face. Gabrielle knew she probably had never looked worse, but she felt beautiful in his eyes.
After thanking Maria for her care, they exited her home. After all, it was 2 am and everyone needed some sleep. Andrew picked her up in a bridal carry, transporting her across the threshold and onto the cement stairs outside as though she weighed nothing more than a feather.
The streetlamps cast strange shadows on a few people that still lingered outside discussing the exciting events of the past two hours. They broke into a subdued applause when Andrew appeared.
“You cannot ‘elp it, can you,” Gabrielle said in wonderment, her head resting against his chest. “Everywhere you go you become some sort of hero.” She worked hard to pronounce hero in a Canadian accent.
He acknowledged the congratulations of the assembly with an embarrassed nod. Speaking just to her, out the side of his mouth, he said, “Why don’t you ask one of these fine people if they have a car and would be willing to give us a ride to a hospital? And yes, you’re going to see a doctor. I won’t listen to any arguments. Then we’ll get you back to Uncle Olivier’s home.”
Two young women, both students, introduced themselves as Chloe and Nicole. They offered their services at Gabrielle’s slurred request. They also insisted they would wait and bring her and Andrew home afterward. Gabrielle thanked them with much gratitude. The headache medication was already taking hold. She wasn’t sure what Marie had given her, but the pain had subsided considerably. She was starting to feel more groggy than anything.
“We share…unappartement,” said Chloe, in broken English as she led them to her tiny car. “There.” She pointed to a window just above the fight scene. “I was doing some study and ‘eard the noise. Tu étais formidable.” She unlocked the doors and held the back one open for Andrew to help Gabrielle inside.
After getting her settled, Andrew turned to accept his rope from another of the bystanders. The man handed it over with a reverential smile. On impulse Gabrielle cleared her throat and called out in French to the group who had trooped along to see them off.
“This man, who caught the criminal tonight, and saved my life, is Andrew Filmore,” she said as loudly as she could. “He is from Canada and is the new owner of Caviste de Tremblay on Rue Saint-Denis. The shop will be opening next Friday, and he would appreciate so much if you would come to his opening and tell everyone you know to do the same.”
The effort to raise her voice exhausted her and she flopped back against the seat. Despite the circumstances, the people outside offered him good wishes and promises to do as she had asked, she felt pleased she had thought of it in spite of everything. After all, if Superman couldn’t draw a crowd, who could?
As they motored down the street toward the nearest emergency room. Regardless of the pain in her shoulder, Gabrielle leaned against him, soaking up his strength. What a horrible day it had been. Now that she was safe, Gabrielle fought to stay awake. Yet, she had a burning question that needed to be asked.
“When I was being dragged away, you appeared. Where did you come from?” she mumbled. “And why were you there so late at night?”
She could only see flashes of his profile as they passed by streetlights, in the darkness of the car. His became grim and she imagined his jaw setting in an angry line as he spoke.
“The minute you ended your call with Annette, we left the shop. I knew something was terribly wrong. So did she. We arrived at the apartment to find the place ransacked, your landlady unconscious on the floor, and you gone.” His voice cracked with remembered torment. “I nearly lost my mind,” he said, shaking his head in agitation. “Annette called the police and an ambulance for Madame…whatever her name is, and I started searching for clues as to where you might have been taken.”
“You did not think the police would want to do that?”
“I wasn’t thinking about much, other than how to get you back,” he said without regret. “Anyway, I found a scrap of paper under a pile of rubble in the kitchen that had the number of a detective on it and…”
She interrupted quietly. “Commissaire Chevalier ‘elped me the last time.”
“Yeah, well, I’d like to hear about that ‘last time.’ Anyhow, Annette contacted him, and he came too. Wouldn’t divulge a lot about what he knew. None of them did really.” She felt him shrug. “But I knew a few things they didn’t either. I described the man I’d seen following us and I gave them a threatening letter I found crumpled up on your bedroom floor.”
“Merci,” she squeezed his hand. “Still, why would you think the man would return to my apartment? That would be a ‘long shot,’ as they say in crime dramas. Clearly, the police didn’t consider it. And ‘e didn’t leave with me after ripping apart my apartment. I was thrown into a storage room on the ground floor.”
“I didn’t think he’d return.” He pulled her closer and planted a kiss on her forehead. “I just couldn’t leave. I sat in a doorway across the street, so I could watch the building. I’m not sure why. Guess I fell asleep though since I didn’t hear him until he yelled. I imagine that was something you did?”
She chuckled a little at the remembrance. “I stomped on ‘is toes. I thought I was going to be killed if I didn’t do something to escape.”
“I’m sure glad you did. The sound woke me up. Without that, he might have gotten away with you.” She felt him shudder.
How lucky she was to have gained the friendship of this man. She thought of something else. “But you ‘ad some sort of rope?” She left the question hanging. Now that the pain in her head had lessened, she was remembering a few things.
He laughed. “Yes, a rope. Calf roping,” he said cryptically. “I’m pretty good at lassoing calves and tying up three of their legs in a few seconds flat. The cord for that is usually pretty short though. I had to get creative with this baby.” He patted the coiled rope on the seat beside him. “I’ve won a few awards for steer wrestling too,” he continued matter-of-factly. “I used to compete in rodeos all summer long. When I found a length of rope in Uncle’s back room, I decided it wouldn’t hurt to take it along. It’s not exactly a lasso, but it worked well enough. While I was sitting across the street I made a noose. A good rope can always come in handy.”
Gabrielle had no response. Before tonight she would have said she didn’t see how a length of rope with a hangman’s knot at one end would ever be considered useful. Now, she was convinced of the opposite. Still, she had only read of rodeos in books or seen them portrayed in movies. Trying to envision Andrew wrestling a huge, horned animal made her head hurt. It defied description. So, she stopped.
“We ‘ave arrived,” called Chloe, the driver, pulling the little car up to a set of large double doors.
The next hour passed in a blur for Gabrielle. She was seen almost immediately by a doctor and wheeled away for a CAT scan. Andrew, against his wishes, was told to wait in a room outside. Everyone just assumed he was her husband and Gabrielle didn’t bother to disabuse them of the idea.
Finally, she was told there was no concussion and that the nurse had done an excellent job of doctoring her wounds. Her arm was badly sprained and bruised. Gabrielle was released with strict instructions to rest for the next few days, keep her head elevated, and avoid stress.
That would be easier now that Malcom was in custody. Although her first psychology exam was tomorrow. She couldn’t fail the course now. Merely thinking about it caused her anxiety.
The moment she appeared at the doorway of the examination room, Andrew was on his feet and at her side. Thanking the doctor and nurses for their care, she shuffled outside with his help to the waiting car where the girls were happily texting. Vaguely, she wondered who they’d be talking to in the middle of the night, but they were young, probably only about Annette’s age. Andrew tapped on the window. Nicole, the passenger, jumped and unlocked the doors with a big grin. Gabrielle was settled inside next to Andrew, and they were off once more.
The trip to Andrew’s wine shop was swift and spent in silence as the young driver handily wheeled the car through empty streets to pull up by the curb in front of Caviste de Tremblay. Stopping the engine, Chloe and Nicole both hopped out of the car and came to say their goodbyes.
“Thank you very much for the ride,” Andrew said, after helping Gabrielle out of the car. “Can I give you some money for your help?” He looped the rope over his arm and reached for his wallet.
A torrent of outraged French met with his query and even though it hurt, Gabrielle laughed, then winced with pain as she loosely translated. “They both wish to tell you an emphatic, NO!”
“Merci beaucoup,” she told the girls, swaying slightly. Andrew gently steadied her.
She exchanged la bise, the French equivalent of a hug, with each girl and awkwardly, so did Andrew.
“Alors, c”est son caviste?” Chloe asked, with a pointed nod toward the shop.
“Oui,” Gabrielle answered. She was happy they were asking whether the shop belonged to Andrew. Clearly, he had made an impression on quite a few people this night and on several different age-groups. She proceeded, in French, to tell the girls to spread the word about Caviste de Tremblay opening, and that it was to be run by the hero of the neighbourhood.
They nodded vigorously, their teeth gleaming white in the darkness. As Chloe turned away, Nicole leaned toward Gabrielle to whisper. “Gardez cet homme. Il est fabuleux.” Then, with a wave to Andrew, she hopped back in the car and the girls roared away.
Andrew kept an arm around Gabrielle as they walked to the door leading to the upstairs suite. “What were you talking about?” he asked. “I wouldn’t ask, but something about how Nicole looked at me as she spoke just now made me curious.”
Lost in her own thoughts about the man she was with, Gabrielle didn’t answer for a few moments. “…They asked if this was your shop and I told them it was.”
She wasn’t sure why she didn’t fully answer his question. Part of her wanted to keep the young Nicole’s final remark to herself. Twice this night, two women of varying ages, had commented on Andrew. She wanted to think about what they had said. However, at the moment she was too tired to do anything but sleep.
“I see.” Andrew dug into a jeans’ pocket for his keys and opened the door, flipping on the muted light at the top of the stairs. He took Gabrielle’s arm and ushered her through, closing and locking it behind him.
She lifted a tentative foot to the first stair, gripping the railing with a clenched hand.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not walking up there.” Andrew swept her off her feet and into his arms. His eyes locked on hers as he made her a promise. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you, ever again.”
She rested a sleepy head against his shoulder, wondering how he could be so sure. That had sounded like a lifetime commitment, and they were only friends. “D”accord,” she mumbled as he began to climb.
Without warning, the door on the landing above them slammed open and a wild-eyed Annette leapt onto the platform.
“Gabby! Tu es en sécurité!”she screeched. She rushed toward them taking two steps at a time, in danger of toppling over and bringing them all to a crashing heap. The young woman lunged at her sister with tears of joy streaming down her face.
Andrew stopped, resting Gabrielle on his bent leg as the two women hugged and kissed.
“Yes, I’m safe. Now, let’s get into the apartment. I am very tired,” Gabrielle rested a loving hand on her sister’s wet cheek.
Annette shot Andrew a worried look, but scampered up the stairs ahead of them to hold the door wide.
“What happened? You are ‘urt!” Annette said, the second they were inside. “I ‘ave been so worried about you!”
“I believe it, because I was worried about you too,” said Gabrielle in a gravelly voice. Andrew didn’t set her down. Instead, he made for the hallway, calling back to Annette as he strode purposefully for the bedrooms.
“I think we’d better save questions for tomorrow,” he said firmly. “We all need some sleep. Especially your sister.”
Reluctantly, Annette fell silent, but followed to flip on the light as he carried Gabrielle into an opulent bedroom and laid her on a sky blue, satin bedspread.
“Maybe you could help her get undressed and comfortable?” he said, straightening and looking at Annette. “I’ll see you both in the morning. I’m going back down to the shop for the night.” Swiftly, he bent over Gabrielle, took her face in both hands, and lightly kissed her forehead. Then, turning on his heel he was gone.
“Bonne nuit,” Annette said bemusedly.
As they heard the apartment door close, Annette leaned closer. “I told you he was falling in love with you. I’ll do my best to be patient to hear what happened. For now though, I am just grateful you’re with me. I love you Gabby.” She kissed her sister and began to gently peel away the soiled jeans and hoodie.
Gabrielle felt unable to utter another word. Lifting a weary hand in farewell, long after Andrew was actually gone, she let it drop onto the silky material. She could barely keep her eyes open. Dimly she felt Annette help her out of her clothes and tug a large t-shirt over her shoulders. Her back and chest hurt where she’d been dragged, but even that didn’t prevent her from dropping off to sleep moments later.
Yet the last thought in her mind was what the young girl, Nicole, had said in French, just before she left in her car.
“Keep that man. He is fabulous.”