then, if Dominique is back. I don’t know. And I don’t have a job in Seattle anymore”.
Anne sipped the last of her wine. “All I know is that the small inheritance I got from my grandmother and my savings will run out by January. But I can’t return to Normandy”.
“Why not?”
She hesitated. “My boyfriend was
abusif
. You understand? And my father too”.
“Yes,” I said. “I’m sorry”. I wondered if I should say more, but decided to keep quiet, knowing this to be a very personal revelation for a French woman. I didn’t want to press.
“Yes. I am sorry as well,” she said, closing the conversation. She stood. “I’d better go and find the cream for my mushroom soup, eh?”
“And I’d better catch the train,” I said. “I work early tomorrow”.
“Oui,”
she said. “At the bakery”. There was longing, but no resentment, in her voice.
We kissed cheeks as good French women did, and said
au revoir
until Monday morning.
I caught the train home, just beating an autumn rain. As I ran up the driveway to my cottage, I saw Céline’s little face pressedagainst a windowpane in the big house. I waved at her, and she waved back, grinning.
I let myself in and set down my woven market bag, then caught sight of the blinking telephone light out of the corner of my eye. Oh yes! The other message.
“Lexi, it’s Dad”. I shook my head as I listened, clearing it from surprise, and also taking a second to go from the “French” track to the “English” track in my mind. “Call me back right away if you can”.
I looked at my watch. Five o’clock in the evening here, so it was eight in the morning in Seattle. He must have left the message late the night before. I hadn’t talked to him since Paris. What could he want?
My hands shook a little as I dialed, and it only rang twice before Mom picked up.
“Mom!” I said, and became a little girl again at heart as I heard her voice. “How are you?”
“The better question, young lady, is how are
you
?” Mom said, teasingly. “So busy you can’t call more often?”
“Oh, Mom, I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ve been really busy at work and school. And it’s expensive!”
“I know,” she said. “I’m glad you’re having a good time. I miss you”.
“I miss you too, Mom,” I said. “I got a call from Dad”.
“Yes”. She lowered her voice, which sounded muffled, as if she was cupping the phone in her hand. “He’s got an idea. He’s very excited. I hope you can make it work, Lexi”.
An idea?
“Oh, here he is now!” Mom said rather loudly and cheerfully. “I’ll talk with you soon, honey”.
I heard her fumble the phone over to Dad.
“Lexi? How are ya, honey?” Dad said.
“I’m good, Dad, how are you?”
“Fine, fine. All settled into the new house, and now the rains have started, you know?”
“I do, Dad”.
“I’ll bet you’re wondering why I called”.
“I’m always glad to hear from you, Dad,” I answered, hoping he’d get to the point soon.
“Well, here’s the thing. Do you remember Bob? From the recruiting station in Seattle?”
“Your friend from the navy? Yes, I do”.
“Well, he put me onto this last minute travel Web site, where you buy available seats on planes that are flying soon. You know, remainders”.
“I’ve heard of that,” I said, putting the salmon into the fridge while we talked.
“So I was thinking, maybe I could get on a plane next Thursday and be there by Friday. We could spend the weekend together, and I could go back next Sunday afternoon. You know, just to check on my girl. Make sure they’re treating you right”.
“Next Friday?” I squeaked. “As in six days from now?”
“Well, yes. They are last minute deals,” he said, sounding hurt.“And next month it’ll be Thanksgiving, and then Christmas. But I don’t have to come”.
I didn’t think he really understood that I had school and a job here, and not a job with weekends off. I wanted to see him; it
Anne sipped the last of her wine. “All I know is that the small inheritance I got from my grandmother and my savings will run out by January. But I can’t return to Normandy”.
“Why not?”
She hesitated. “My boyfriend was
abusif
. You understand? And my father too”.
“Yes,” I said. “I’m sorry”. I wondered if I should say more, but decided to keep quiet, knowing this to be a very personal revelation for a French woman. I didn’t want to press.
“Yes. I am sorry as well,” she said, closing the conversation. She stood. “I’d better go and find the cream for my mushroom soup, eh?”
“And I’d better catch the train,” I said. “I work early tomorrow”.
“Oui,”
she said. “At the bakery”. There was longing, but no resentment, in her voice.
We kissed cheeks as good French women did, and said
au revoir
until Monday morning.
I caught the train home, just beating an autumn rain. As I ran up the driveway to my cottage, I saw Céline’s little face pressedagainst a windowpane in the big house. I waved at her, and she waved back, grinning.
I let myself in and set down my woven market bag, then caught sight of the blinking telephone light out of the corner of my eye. Oh yes! The other message.
“Lexi, it’s Dad”. I shook my head as I listened, clearing it from surprise, and also taking a second to go from the “French” track to the “English” track in my mind. “Call me back right away if you can”.
I looked at my watch. Five o’clock in the evening here, so it was eight in the morning in Seattle. He must have left the message late the night before. I hadn’t talked to him since Paris. What could he want?
My hands shook a little as I dialed, and it only rang twice before Mom picked up.
“Mom!” I said, and became a little girl again at heart as I heard her voice. “How are you?”
“The better question, young lady, is how are
you
?” Mom said, teasingly. “So busy you can’t call more often?”
“Oh, Mom, I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ve been really busy at work and school. And it’s expensive!”
“I know,” she said. “I’m glad you’re having a good time. I miss you”.
“I miss you too, Mom,” I said. “I got a call from Dad”.
“Yes”. She lowered her voice, which sounded muffled, as if she was cupping the phone in her hand. “He’s got an idea. He’s very excited. I hope you can make it work, Lexi”.
An idea?
“Oh, here he is now!” Mom said rather loudly and cheerfully. “I’ll talk with you soon, honey”.
I heard her fumble the phone over to Dad.
“Lexi? How are ya, honey?” Dad said.
“I’m good, Dad, how are you?”
“Fine, fine. All settled into the new house, and now the rains have started, you know?”
“I do, Dad”.
“I’ll bet you’re wondering why I called”.
“I’m always glad to hear from you, Dad,” I answered, hoping he’d get to the point soon.
“Well, here’s the thing. Do you remember Bob? From the recruiting station in Seattle?”
“Your friend from the navy? Yes, I do”.
“Well, he put me onto this last minute travel Web site, where you buy available seats on planes that are flying soon. You know, remainders”.
“I’ve heard of that,” I said, putting the salmon into the fridge while we talked.
“So I was thinking, maybe I could get on a plane next Thursday and be there by Friday. We could spend the weekend together, and I could go back next Sunday afternoon. You know, just to check on my girl. Make sure they’re treating you right”.
“Next Friday?” I squeaked. “As in six days from now?”
“Well, yes. They are last minute deals,” he said, sounding hurt.“And next month it’ll be Thanksgiving, and then Christmas. But I don’t have to come”.
I didn’t think he really understood that I had school and a job here, and not a job with weekends off. I wanted to see him; it
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