Revenge of the Black Virgin (3 page)

She watched James sleeping and realized she’d
be happier loving Luc, even if she never saw him again, than she
could ever be with James. She sighed again, and this time he
stirred. She got up quickly and dressed.

James chatted comfortably as he brewed a pot
of breakfast tea. “You seem to be adjusting, given the time
differences, and everything. If only you’d eat something, I’m sure
you would feel even better.”

For a moment, breakfast seemed possible. “Is
there anything for toast?” she asked.

“Nothing good. Just hang on and I’ll run out
and get some fresh bread. And some cheese.”

He grabbed his jacket and was out the door
before Jo had taken her first sip of tea. She was surprised to find
herself alone for the first time in days.

Since he’d plucked her out of Martel, James
hadn’t said a single word about Luc. She imagined that if she
married him he would likely never mention what had happened to her
in France, ever.

Yes, she would be forgiven for her
indiscretion. She knew she should be relieved and grateful for such
generosity. It was a proof of his love, she supposed.

But none of that mattered any more as soon as
she realized she had the privacy to do what she should have done
yesterday—try to contact Luc. Surely it wasn’t too late to try to
explain.

Her hands began to shake now that she’d made
up her mind to call him. She didn’t know what time it was in
France, but she didn’t care. She had to reach him. She had to try
to explain herself. Apologize. Beg forgiveness. Tell him she loved
him.

She went to look for her purse. Luc’s
business card should be in there.

It wasn’t. She impatiently threw the purse
aside and began to search through her hastily-packed luggage.

“Where the hell did it go?” she muttered to
herself. “I swore I put it right…”

Luc gave her the card just before he went
home to collect the few things he would need for their lovers’
tryst, quickly scribbling his cellphone number onto it. The last
time she’d seen it was when she lovingly tucked it into her
wallet.

But it’s disappeared!

Where?

How?

Am I losing my mind?

She undid all of the zippers she could find
in her suitcase, hoping she’d stashed the card in a safe place. But
no. It just wasn’t anywhere. Then her eye was caught by a scrunched
piece of red cloth.

It was Luc’s bandana, the one he’d tied
around her neck the last time they made love. She fingered it
lovingly, then held it to her nose, hoping for a trace of his
scent. It had been soaked through with sweat from the both of them,
she remembered.

But it didn’t really smell like anything
except stale cotton.

Suddenly she heard the door open and close
and looked up to see James standing over her. He’d seen Jo wearing
the bandana in France, but he wouldn’t have known it belonged to
Luc. Still, she must have looked guilty.

He was frowning as he held out a brown paper
bag.

“Look. I bought a crusty whole grain loaf.
And some of that Tillamook cheddar you like so much. What are you
doing?”

“Where is it?”

“Where is what?” His voice was all practiced
innocence.

“You know! The card!”

“I don’t know anything about a card,” he said
calmly. “Come and have some breakfast. I’ve got fresh orange juice,
too.”

Jo knew James could be an accomplished liar.
After all, he was a mega-successful businessman.

“You know damned well what I’m looking for.
You took it, didn’t you!”

James’ face remained neutral, but Joanna
recognized tight restraint. It probably hurt him terribly to see
her frantically searching for another man’s phone number, she
vaguely realized.

She began to cry. “You stole his business
card, admit it! You went into my wallet and you took it!”

Throwing the jumbled contents of her suitcase
onto the floor in a heap, she collapsed beside them and began
sobbing. “Can’t you see what a shitty thing that was to do? And
it’s not even going to work, you know. I’ll find him. It’ll just
take me a little longer,” she gulped for air and struggled to grab
a tissue from the bedside table.

James turned on his heel and left her
sniveling on the floor, thoughts racing and panic setting in as she
realized she had no hope of talking to Luc any time soon. Unless he
contacted her.

What the hell am I going to go now? An
Internet search for his work number? It’s probably the middle of
the night over there. But I can still call his office and leave a
message. But wait…he won’t be there. He’s on vacation. Oh shit,
what am I going to do? Call the tour company?

But, she realized, he wasn’t a regular
employee of the tour company she’d traveled with in the Dordogne
region of France. He was just filling in for the regular tour
guide, who was sick.

How on earth can I find him?

A few minutes ticked by as Jo sat on her
bedroom floor and tried to prioritize the things she had to do. And
then she heard the sound of dishes being set on the table and
realized there was one thing she could do right away—ask James to
leave.

She took a couple of deep breaths, blew her
nose, and gritted her teeth. Then she went out to him.

“James, I know you think I’m upset right now.
But I’m okay, really, and I have something important to say to
you.”

He eyed her warily before walking over to the
dining table and sitting down, facing her.

“All right. I wish you would eat something
first, but I’m listening.”

His hands were resting on the tops of his
thighs, his back was straight, and he staring directly at her. It
was his confidence pose, she knew. But she sensed he was
scared.

“Okay. Um, I’m grateful for everything you’ve
done for me. And my family. I really am. But…” She began to wad the
sodden tissue in her hand. Her knees felt weak but she didn’t want
to sit down.

She watched carefully as the neutral look on
his face changed to wariness. “Okay. But what?”

“First of all, I don’t want you to sleep here
anymore,” she blurted out.

Short, bitter and clear. Let’s get the job
done.

“What? Why? What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that although you’ve been
wonderful, and I don’t know how I would’ve made it through these
past few days without you, I need some space. I think you should go
back to your own apartment.”

He didn’t respond immediately. Jo could see
his intelligence working as he formulated his approach. She held
her breath.

His posture softened. “Are you breaking up
with me?” he asked in a quavering voice she’d never heard
before.

“I guess I am.” She was too surprised to deny
it. This was going to be easier than she thought.

But what he did next took her completely off
guard.

He stood up, stepped towards her, then
dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Please
don’t. Joanna, don’t send me away. I can’t stand to think I’ve lost
you again!” he said into her belly with that same odd little
voice.

He sounded so hurt that she was stunned. For
a few seconds she didn’t know what to do, but then he stood up and
began to kiss her face.

She twisted away and tried to push him off.
She felt both a crushing revulsion and a terrifying pity. The last
thing she wanted was to break his heart. “No, James. It’s not going
to be like this.” She was crying again, but pressed on. “I’m so
sorry, but I meant what I said in France.” She lowered her voice to
a whisper, looking at the floor. “I don’t love you anymore. I wish
I did, you’re a wonderful man, but I don’t.”

Her words seemed to have no effect as he
struggled to wrap his arms around her shoulders, his face snuffling
deeper into her neck. “You will, darling. I know you will. Once you
feel more like yourself again. You know I can make you happy.”

“I really don’t think so,” she said slowly,
emphatically, trying to push him away. “Please don’t make this any
harder than it has to be. Just go home. We can talk again
tomorrow.”

“It’s that Goddamned Frenchman, isn’t it?!”
He pulled back, spitting his words at her, an expression of disgust
creeping over his face. “That fucking foreigner! Can’t you get it
through your head that he was nothing more than a holiday fling?
He’s forgotten all about you by now, for chrissakes! Grow up,
Joanna!”

She recoiled at his attempt to hurt her,
wiping away tears with the back of her hand. Then she looked him
straight in the eye and retaliated. “It doesn’t matter whether he’s
forgotten about me or not. What matters is that I can’t love you
and that I’m sorry for it. But that’s the way it is.”

“Listen to yourself,” he insisted. “You’re
talking nonsense. You can’t go running after him.”

Then she knew for certain. “You
did
take his card, didn’t you?”

“
What
?” His voice sounded genuine but
his eyes looked guilty.

“Luc’s business card. You found it in my bag
and you took it! Where is it?” She could feel fury building,
flushing her face.

Jaw twitching, James looked at the floor.
“Gone. I threw it in the trash. Back in Martel.” He backed away
from her.

A fresh gush of tears blurred Jo’s vision as
she fumbled in her pockets for another tissue. “Just go. I can’t
talk to you anymore.”

James shook his head and looked down at her.
“You’re confused. You’re making a big mistake, Joanna.” There was
iron in his voice now. “I’ll go now, but tomorrow I think you’ll
reconsider what you’ve just said to me.”

She didn’t answer, but merely stepped aside
to let him collect his things. He packed his bag and left without
another word. When the door closed behind him she drew the deadbolt
and collapsed on the sofa in unrestrained sobs. Days of
heart-wrenching pain and nights of terror lay ahead of her, she
knew. And this time she had to face them alone. No sedatives. No
warm body holding her. It was going to be bad.

But at least one problem had been dealt
with.

Maybe
.

Chapter Four

Jo’s Jack Russell terrier, Sammy, had been
boarded with her friend Alex while Jo was in France. But now she
needed her wriggling little bundle of fur for comfort. She called
Alex and asked if she could pick him up. Knowing Jo was in mourning
for her father, Alex insisted on delivering Sammy. Jo was grateful
for her friend’s kindness.

Over a pot of tea Jo briefly explained why
she’d stayed so long in France. She didn’t mention Luc, though.
Alex was a relaxed, generous woman who respected Jo’s privacy. She
didn’t push for more information, and discretely took her leave
when she saw Jo was suffering the loss of both her father and her
fiancé.

As soon as Alex left, Jo set down to work.
She had to find Lucien. First, she Googled his name but came up
with nothing she could use. Only obituaries, memorials and marriage
records, mostly of couples in Quebec. The lone Facebook entry she
found was not the Luc she was looking for. An internet search for
his office also proved fruitless. That was a long shot anyway. She
couldn’t remember which branch of the federal government he said he
worked for.

Was it the ministry of Culture? Education?
Who hired archaeologists, anyway?

How on earth can I find him? Damn James. He
knew what he was doing when he destroyed that card. Now I’ll never
be able to reach him in time to plead my case.

Frustrated and depressed, angry tears
stinging her eyes, Jo had another idea. She picked up the phone and
called an overseas telephone directory on the chance Luc had a
landline telephone number.

Nada.

Sammy had been eyeing her nervously as she
muttered and sniveled and cursed through her search. Jo finally
noticed and picked him up, hugging him to her chest as he squirmed
with glee. A long jog would do them both a world of good.

Maybe it wasn’t the end of the world if she
couldn’t reach Luc. Maybe he would be the one to get in touch with
her.

If he really loves me, he’ll come after
me.

“Let’s go outside, Sammy,” she said as she
sat him down, his nails scrabbling in joy on the hardwood
floor.

Brenda, her boss and best friend, had been
only a phone call away since Jo’s return. But James had done his
best to keep Brenda at a distance, both at the funeral and
afterwards. He mistrusted lesbians in general, and this one in
particular. She was one of Jo’s oldest friends, but he suspected
Brenda had always wanted something more from Jo. Whenever he’d
brought up the subject, Jo found herself becoming defensive. She
didn’t really know why.

But now that James wasn’t breathing down her
neck anymore, Jo was free to talk to anyone she wanted. After her
run she took a shower and forced herself to eat a cheese sandwich.
Then she called Brenda and asked her to come over. She wanted to
tell her everything.

Brenda was an empathetic listener and, after
Jo’s father, probably Jo’s biggest cheerleader. She sat
open-mouthed as Jo tried to explain what had come over her in
France—joining a cult and falling in love with Luc—and then how she
felt her father’s death was a kind of punishment.

“I know it sounds crazy, Bren. But that’s
emotion for you. I feel somehow responsible for all the terrible
things that’ve happened since I gave up my free will to a complete
stranger.”

Brenda refilled Jo’s wine glass. “You’re
damned right it sounds crazy! But how could you let something like
that happen? It’s so not like you.”

“It’s the Black Virgin of Rocamadour,” Jo
said, a smile on her face as she took a sip of the California
Chardonnay. “She made me do it.”

“You know, you really do sound like some sort
of loony.”

Jo looked up quickly and saw that her friend
was serious.