Authors: C. Marie Bowen
Chanted Hebrew prayers woke Aubrielle from a sound sleep.
He’s remembered.
For half a breath, she was a child again, with Papa at prayer before going downstairs to work, and Mama preparing breakfast in the kitchen. She held onto that illusion for as long as she could, but the silence from the kitchen tore at her heart.
“Marguerite?” Papa called from his room.
Aubrielle opened her eyes. The reality of another sunrise slanted through her curtains.
Perhaps Tante Mae can stay with Papa today while I shop for candles and candies.
She’d hoped to have purchased the Hanukkah items by now, but hadn’t been unable to leave the house for almost a week.
Mae had knocked on the door four days ago, apologetic and rushed. Antoine, her head baker, had become seriously ill. Mae would be busy at the bakery and unable to sit with Lou until Antoine returned to work.
John had come to her house each morning, willing to escort her to the market.
She had turned him away each time.
He’d even offered to stay all afternoon and help take care of Papa, but she’d declined that offer as well.
John had enough on his mind.
Besides, were I to add my burdens and heartache to his, our potted mix would grow a sour relationship of thorns instead of the perfect bloom I desire.
She made a face at her poetic whimsy. If she were honest, she also wanted to bathe and look her best for John.
Flowers grow best in a well-tended garden.
Her mother’s voice scolded in her memory.
“Marguerite?”
“
Un moment, Papa.
” Out from beneath her covers, the room chilled her skin, and she pulled on her housecoat.
Her father stood in the hall, shirtless and shivering—a skeleton of the man she remembered. He pointed a trembling finger toward his room. “Someone poured ice water on my bed.
Pourquoi?
”
“Oh no,” Aubrielle murmured as she fought back tears he wouldn’t understand.
Poor Papa
. “Let me run a warm bath for you.”
“Aubrielle?”
“Yes, Papa?” She wrapped a bath towel around his naked shoulders, switched on the bathroom light and knelt to prepare a bath.
He followed her and stood in the doorway. “I had a dream,” he said above the sound of the water. “I was a young man who served a knight.” He shivered and his voice grew reminiscent. “I took care of his horse, and I polished his armor until it shone like the sun.”
Warm water spilled over Aubrielle’s wrist, and she closed the drain and stood. “What a pleasant dream.”
“It seemed real.” His unfocused gaze changed and he looked at her. “Where’s your
Mama?
”
Aubrielle took a deep breath. She had no answer he could accept at this moment. To speak the truth would break his heart. “I’ll find you something to wear.”
She pulled clean clothes from his drawers.
His bedding will need to be laundered.
The wringer-washer was downstairs in the shop. If Mae could watch Papa, Aubrielle would be able to wash their bedding and clothes, hang them to dry in the sun, and then iron the clothes. A full day’s work.
So much for shopping
.
And time was running out. Hanukkah would begin at sunset the day after tomorrow.
At least, I found Papa’s special menorah.
In the bathroom, her father hadn’t moved. She set his clothes on the counter beside the sink and turned off the tub faucet. “I’ll be down the hall if you need me.”
His eyes shifted to her, then away.
“Papa? Take off your wet clothes and get into the warm bath. It will feel good.”
“I’m sorry,
ma belle
Aubrielle.” His lips trembled.
“Sorry?” She leaned forward to see his face. “For what?”
“
Ma belle fille
, so like your sweet m
ama
. I know she’s gone. I know that, but I forget sometimes.” He looked into her eyes. “My child shouldn’t be trapped caring for a sick old man. I can’t—I know I can’t—remember things. I try—” A single tear slid down his cheek. “
Pardonne-moi, s'il te plaît.
” He held a trembling hand beside her face.
Aubrielle took his hand. “
Je t'aime, Papa.
”
His bent and trembling fingers stroked her hair. “
Je t'aime, ma fille.
”
Aubrielle sniffed and wiped her face. “You should get in your bath. The water will grow cold.”
He bobbed his head once and laid the bath towel from his shoulders on the counter. “
Merci
.”
“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.” Aubrielle closed the door and covered her mouth. As swiftly as she could, she walked down the hall to her room, threw herself on her bed, and cried. How cruel for Papa to know, in moments of clarity, how much he had lost. She gulped air and buried her face in her pillow to hide the sound of her tears.
When the rush of emotion had passed, she stood and inspected her reflection in the vanity. “
Merde!
”
Once in the kitchen, she could hear the occasional splash from the washroom. She dampened a dish towel with cool water, tipped her head back and laid the cloth across her eyes.
The jingle of keys against the back door caused her to lower her chin and open her eyes. The towel dropped into her hands.
Mae came in with a bag of groceries. She set the foodstuffs, along with her keys, on the counter and looked with concern at Aubrielle. “What’s amiss, lass?”
Aubrielle shook her head. “Nothing.” She shrugged. “Papa.” She wiped her face and summoned a smile for Mae. “I’m surprised to see you this morning.”
“Ah well.” Mae unloaded her bag. “Antoine is back and feeling much better.” She handed Aubrielle a brick of cheese and a wrapped package of sliced meat from the butcher. “Slice a bit of the cheese and put the rest in the box, would you dear?”
When the groceries were put away, Mae folded the bag and examined Aubrielle. “I can see you need a break.” She set a loaf of bread on the cutting board and pulled the bread knife from the drawer.
“I can’t.” A heavy sigh escaped her throat. “Both Papa and I have laundry.”
Mae made angled cuts in the loaf. “I have a laundry woman coming on Wednesday. She can do both.”
“No
, Tante
Mae—”
“I won’t hear an argument.” Mae placed a piece of cheese on the bread and handed it to Aubrielle. “You’ve been inside for four straight days. You need to get out. Even when I’m here every day, I go home at night.” She stacked cheese on a slice of bread for herself. “You need a break, and the snow has melted. Take a walk in the park.”
“I need to shop for Hanukkah,” Aubrielle admitted. “I have a bit of money set aside. I hope it will be enough.” She took a bite of Mae’s treat.
“Don’t worry about money for your candles and such. I’m looking forward to your Hanukkah holiday, and besides, you’ll be working for me soon enough, selling in the park.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“For both you and your Papa. When Lou finishes, wash up and get ready.” She winked at Aubrielle. “Perhaps one of your young men would like to go with you.”
“My young men?” Aubrielle’s face warmed at Mae’s teasing. “I’ve turned John away every day this week. He’s bound to have given up on me.” She picked up a piece of cheese. “And Henri only comes to the house when he knows you’ll be cooking.”
Mae raised an eyebrow. “Somehow, I doubt that.”
Aubrielle covered her grin with her fingers and hurried to her room. Her limited wardrobe left her few choices, but she settled on a warm wool blue dress. When her clothes and undergarments lay ready on her bed, she turned to her vanity. Unbidden, her attention fell on the small box her father had given her. The Star of David
—the necklace her mother had never worn. With sure hands, she removed the silver cross from her neck and withdrew the delicate golden chain from the small red box. The six-pointed star of gold caught the light and shimmered at her throat.
I’ll wear it for Papa.
* * *
John slid the straight razor down his chin one last time then turned his head to view the other side of his face in the mirror.
Done
. He rinsed the blade and removed the remaining soap from his face with the towel as he walked to the kitchen.
Henri lounged at the table eating croissants with Billy. “There you are,” Henri lifted his chin to John. “I brought a bit of breakfast back with me.”
John tossed the end of the towel over his shoulder and picked up one of the flaky pastries. “Did you learn anything new from Bonet last night?”
Henri swallowed and nodded. “Bonet spoke to that René fellow you asked about.” He waved his bread toward Billy. “René saw two men struggle near your truck just before the gunfire. Afterward, he had the impression there were several men involved in the attack, but he didn’t stick around to find out.” Henri took a sip of his coffee. “René said he didn’t know you’d been hit.” He raised his gaze to John. “And he was very pleased to get his money back.”
“I’m sure he was.” John leaned against the counter and bit into the buttery pastry.
“But we’re no closer to finding François.” Billy tossed his half-eaten croissant onto the table. “I fear it’s been too long.”
“If they want the rest of the weapons, they’ll keep him alive,” John reassured Billy.
“Then why no demands? Why haven’t we heard anything?” Billy set his elbows on the table and slid his fingers into the thick hair on both sides of his head.
“We will—or we’ll find him on our own.” John addressed Henri, “Did you learn anything else about your friend, Karl, or Bonet’s other employees?”
“Not my friend, but yes.” Henri nodded. “Karl’s employment includes a room behind the stage area. Since Bonet has an apartment above his club, Karl must stay close and remain at Bonet’s beck and call.” Henri lowered his voice. “Recently, Karl has left the building as soon as the club closes and often doesn’t return until mid-afternoon.”
“How did you learn that?” Billy’s eyes were wide.
“Bonet is inconvenienced. He complains loudly.”
“Where does Karl go?” John narrowed his eyes at Henri with interest.
“Bonet doesn’t know, but it might pay to find out.” Henri picked up another croissant.
“I agree.” John left Billy and Henri to discuss Karl and finished dressing. He unwrapped one of several new shirts he had ordered from the garment maker.
Mae had come by earlier that morning and told him she would stay with Lou today so Aubrielle could get away from the house for a few hours.
He grinned at himself in the mirror as he adjusted his tie.
I’ll see Aubrielle today.
All the women she had been faded in light of the person John had come to know. All the similarities and differences combined into the girl he had always loved.
Aubrielle
.
Henri and Billy looked up as John passed through the kitchen. He picked up his coat and hat and spoke over his shoulder. “Maybe we can discover where Bonet’s manservant goes after club hours.” At the door, he turned and looked at Billy and Henri. “In the meantime, I’d appreciate it if you would see to Éclair’s stall. It no doubt needs cleaning.”
* * *
John tucked Aubrielle’s gloved hand inside his arm as they crossed the street. The blue sky and bright sunshine belied the hint of a chill in the breeze. Winter was not done with them yet.
“What is the name of the shop again?” John asked.
“Asher’s Market. It’s a Jewish store and will have everything I need to purchase.” She looked up at him and shielded the late morning sunlight with her palm. “I hope you’ll be able to join us each evening when we light the candles.”
A fist of emotion clenched his heart.
Was it always
like this?
“I would be honored.” The witch who had cursed them so long ago—Nescato—had been mistaken. She swore he would love only one woman for all eternity, yet in every life, Agaria was unique, even though she retained the same beloved essence in her soul.
And I fall in love each time, just as I did the first time.
The neighborhood around Asher’s Market boasted a
café
, a greengrocer and a handful of clothing and shoe stores. Locals congregated along the street between Asher’s and the eatery.
“Perhaps we could dine at the
C
afé
Jardin de Lune
after you finish shopping.” John pointed to the small restaurant as they passed.
“Perhaps.” Aubrielle pulled a folded slip of paper from her purse. “If you would wait for me out here. The aisles inside are narrow, and the crowd will be more than usual because of the holiday.”