by Zuri Day
“Yes, good morning. I’m here to see Mrs. Stern.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No, but I have some important, confidential information that I’ve come all the way from New Orleans to deliver.”
“And your name?”
“Rosalyn Arnaud.” She reached into her briefcase-styled handbag and provided a business card.
The middle-aged Latina’s face remained neutral as, with a slight nod, she said, “Wait one moment, please.”
Roz stepped back, but not before seeing something that was even more unsettling than the home’s beautiful and immaculate interior, and what appeared to be a housekeeper or personal assistant. A tall, pretty girl who looked to be in her teens. If this was indeed Alana, did she have another child?
Before she could process that possibility, the woman who’d answered the door returned. “Come in, please.”
Roz was then ushered into a well-appointed sitting room.
“Could I get you something to drink? Tea? Water?”
“No, thank you.”
The woman left as quietly as she’d come. Too nervous to sit, Roz took in the beautiful artwork that lined the wall. Several minutes went by before the door opened again. After a fortifying deep breath, she turned around.
“Mrs. Stern? Lana? Hi, I’m Rosalyn Arnaud.” She walked forward smiling, her arm outstretched, and took in a tall, attractive woman with flawless skin and Pierre’s eyes.
Her handshake was half-hearted, tentative. “Have a seat.”
Roz sat on a couch as Lana directed, while she sat on one of two straight-back Queen Anne chairs that flanked a side table inlaid with what looked to be gold.
“Why are you here?”
Direct. No nonsense. Roz liked that.
“I’m here to confirm whether or not you, Lana Stern, were formerly Alana LeBlanc from New Orleans, Louisiana.”
She watched Lana’s eyes widen slightly, her posture, already rigid, become even more erect. Lana remained silent.
“As my card indicates, I’m a journalist working for the New Orleans Beat, better known as NO Beat. A few months ago the celebrity chef Pierre LeBlanc opened a restaurant in the city. It was a huge deal, a sold-out success from before the doors opened. Every media outlet in the city and many nationally all wanted to do a feature on him, NO Beat included. I got the interview and because everyone else wrote about the restaurant and the food, I decided to write about the man behind the restaurant. It was from that angle that I learned of his journey to the kitchen. The one that started when Hurricane Katrina drove him and his sister to Houston, and caused his mother and grandmother to disappear.”
Roz watched as Alana’s eyes began to blink rapidly. She swallowed several times. Turned and looked out the window. “How did you find me?”
“I’m right? You are Pierre and Lisette’s mother, Alana LeBlanc?”
“How did you find me?” Her voice remained low, but carried the authority of someone used to giving orders and having them followed.
“A friend of mine is a PI. I don’t know the specifics or who his sources are, but after carefully researching the limited information I gave him he came back with...the name you use now...an address and a phone number.”
“Why didn’t you call? Who do you think you are, to just show up on my doorstep asking questions like you have the right?”
“I didn’t think you’d take my call, or stay on the phone once you found out the reason I was calling. I felt that if that happened, I would have tipped my hand and been closed off to the truth forever.”
“Did Pierre send you here?”
“He knows nothing about this visit.”
Lana frowned. “Then I ask the question once again. Why are you here?”
“For the truth, Mrs. Stern. Alana, if I may.”
“Lana.”
“Okay.”
“If Pierre didn’t send you, what does any of this matter to you?”
“Look, I come here with no hidden agenda. No judgment. No idea of what, if anything, will come out of this visit.
“When I interviewed Pierre, he evaded the topics of family and Hurricane Katrina, I found that curious, puzzling. The journalist in me felt that it wasn’t just because he was a private guy or anything like that. I had this nagging feeling that there was more to his story. On top of that, like many New Orleanians, I have a special connection with Katrina. I wasn’t there when it hit. But my best friend’s brother disappeared in the flood. It was three weeks before his body was identified in a massive... Anyway, I became especially interested in stories like that. People who’d gone missing or are still missing. For many, interest in Katrina and how it affected New Orleans receded with the floodwater. Most people don’t know or care that even now, today, some areas show little change. So many lives were affected. My life. Pierre’s life.” She paused and added, “Your life.”
Lana rose abruptly, walked over to an ornate armoire that housed a mini bar. She reached for a tumbler and poured two fingers of a brown liquor, then turned to Roz. “Scotch?”
“Oh, no, thank you.”
Lana nodded, returned to her seat and slowly sipped the drink as her eyes stared beyond the room and into yesterday.
“I had a troubled childhood, very difficult. Details I won’t share. When home became unbearable I ran away. Looked for love outside the house. Got pregnant. Went to work.
“The signs of Mom’s MS began about two years before Lisette was born, and it fell on me to take care of her. There was no discussion. I was her only child so it was what I would do. I resented it, greatly, and wasn’t always kind in my treatment of her. When the streets flooded and after putting the kids on the bus, I waded through mucky water to find my mother in her wheelchair, wedged between a couch and a heavy table that had floated on top of her. Something in me snapped.”
Lana drained the tumbler. “I went crazy. For sure. Ended up at East Hospital. That’s where I met Bernie.”
“Bernard Stern?”
“Yes, my husband. He was one of many doctors who flew in and volunteered their services. Checked me out. Bandaged me up. Then they transferred me to Community Care.”
“The psychiatric hospital.”
Lana nodded. Her posture changed, became somewhat relaxed as she spoke of her husband. “The next day I looked up and there was Dr. Stern to see me. I had no idea why. I’d not uttered a word since finding my mom like that, which is how I ended up over there. But he acted like my madness was the most normal thing. He talked nonstop, about everything. Himself, his practice, life in LA. It sounded like paradise. Several days passed before I realized he wasn’t visiting me in the role of doctor but of a man interested in finding out more about me. I couldn’t believe it. When he asked if I had children, I said no.”
Lana looked directly at Roz for the first time. “I don’t know why. The lie just came out, almost on its own.”
She looked away again. “The day I decided to tell him the truth is the day he asked me to come home with him. Two weeks later, I was on a plane. There never seemed to be a good time after that.”
“Did you think about them?”
“I couldn’t. Not at first. Bernie set me up with a therapist and that’s when the healing began. That’s when I told myself that when the time was right I’d tell him about the kids, and go get them, and we’d all live happily ever after. Then I... Then things changed.”
“You got pregnant?”
“How did you—”
“Just now, as the door opened, I saw a pretty young lady cross the hall and just assumed...”
“Yes, that’s our daughter. Totally unplanned. Life happened and years passed... I searched for them on the internet, began tracking their lives. Like a stalker. Lisette is so beautiful and smart. Pierre...by the time I was mentally strong enough, I felt I had no right to interrup
t what had become their lives. But know this. I never, ever, stopped loving them. I loved them enough to let them go.”
“Lana, I can’t put myself in your shoes. But you’ve got two kids who think you’re dead!”
“I’ve told myself everything you’re thinking and many things you can’t comprehend. I’ve watched them blossom. Know all about their lives. Can you imagine what it’s like to have a handsome, successful, celebrity son like Pierre and not be able to let him know I’m alive? And not just because he’s a celebrity. He could work at a gas station and I’d feel the same way. I just can’t see how to reenter their lives.”
“By ending this lie, and returning.”
They talked for another half hour. Roz shared her plans to let Pierre know what she’d discovered, and got Lana’s permission to pass on her number should he or Lisette want to call. Roz left in an even bigger state of disbelief than she’d been in during her phone call with Flint. All she could think of was how Pierre would accept the news. When she’d encouraged him to get clarity about what happened to his mother, this was not what she’d had in mind.
Chapter 17
On Friday, Roz woke up early. If asked, she would have said she felt “some kind of way.” It was an emotion, or several, that she couldn’t describe. She guessed it was the letdown after a whirlwind, eventful twenty-four hours, a time during which she hadn’t gotten much sleep. The conversation she’d had with Lana Stern, Pierre’s mom, had played like a nonstop loop in her head. What she’d shared was everything that made for a tragic yet captivating story. Disaster, loss, illness, love, sadness, regret.
And perhaps reunion?
Roz thought of Pierre. Her stomach lurched. How he and his sister would react was the missing piece to her tableau. From the few discussions she’d had with him about his mom, it could go either way. Would he be angry for her being alive all this time and just now reaching out? Or would he be happy and ready to write new chapters in their lives? She’d talk with him before discussing anything with Andy, or writing a single word for an article. She’d explain everything that had happened, and why she’d felt it necessary to vet the woman who claimed to be Pierre’s mom before sharing what she’d learned. Pierre was a laid-back, even-keeled brother. Even with the unexplainable nervousness she felt, she believed he would understand and not have a problem with the story she’d write. This was an above the fold, breaking news story. If NO Beat didn’t publish it, someone else eventually would.
Roz arrived at work and walked straight into Andy’s office. She closed the door, moved a stack of files off the only other chair in the room and sat down.
“Well?”
“I was able to confirm that someone assumed to be deceased is alive. But I can’t tell you who it is yet. Not until I’ve had a chance to tell the family.”
“That wasn’t the deal.”
“I’m going to talk to them tonight. By Monday, I’ll have a write-up.”
“You’re being extremely protective about this. Is it one of your relatives?”
“No, but I know them. It’s only right that they be the first ones to hear what I’ve learned.”
“Of course, you won’t reveal your source.”
“Of course.”
“But you’re sure the information you received is authentic.”
“One hundred percent.”
“I’m going to go with my gut and trust you on this, Roz. I’ll give you until noon on Monday. Then you need to let the editor-in-chief of the paper that pays your salary know exactly what’s going on.”
Roz left the office feeling nauseous. She tried to focus on a positive outcome. Yes, Pierre’s mom had deceived him, but in her mind she was doing what was best. How many people got the chance to reconnect with a loved one they thought dead? Maybe Roz was freaking out about a scenario that wouldn’t happen. While in this positive frame of mind, she called Pierre.
“Hey, babe, it’s Roz. I know Fridays are crazy, but I really need to see you. I’m hoping to come over after you get off. It’s important, so call me, okay?”
Roz returned to work, but after two hours of writing absolutely nothing that could be printed, she gave up the pretense and went to the gym. A two-hour workout helped her feel a little better and by the time she went home and stepped in a hot bath the whirlwind forty-eight hours with very little sleep finally caught up to her. She fell asleep in the tub, awoke to a tub of cold water and climbed naked into bed.
Later, when she checked her phone, there were messages from several people, including Stefanie. Roz would call them all later. Right now the only person she wanted to talk to was Pierre. While sipping a glass of wine, she received a text.
Headed home. Meet me there.
As always, Pierre’s message caused her to smile. She hoped what she told him would eventually have the same effect.
Roz arrived at Pierre’s and entered through an unlocked door. Within a second of seeing him all the calm she felt from the rest, workout and wine disappeared.
Pierre must have heard the door open. He came down the hall with arms outstretched. “Hello, beautiful.”
“Hey.” Roz welcomed his hug and wrapped her arms around his waist.
“Whoa, baby, what’s this?”
“What?”
“Your body is tight, tense.” He walked behind her, began massaging her neck. “I think I know what you need.”
Roz felt faint, suffocating under the weight of what she’d come to tell Pierre. She stepped away from him and slowly turned around. “I have something to tell you.”
Immediate concern showed on his face. “Are you pregnant?”
“No! I’m in shock but not because I’m pregnant. But I do have news. Let’s sit down.”
“You’re starting to worry me, Roz.” Pierre sat and pulled Roz down beside him. “What is it?”
“I did something that I thought would help you and Lisette have closure, or what I call clarity regarding your mom. I knew you guys hadn’t been able to find out anything about her, and so I wanted to try and help you.”
“Why are you so nervous, baby? That’s not a bad thing. It touches me that you wanted to help.”
“Yes, I’d done it with Aaron and other people, so I contacted my connections in public records and everything... There’s no easy way to tell you this.” Roz scooted closer to him and reached for his hands. “Pierre, your mom is alive.”
Roz waited, watched to gauge his reaction. There wasn’t much of one. He cocked his head as if trying to decipher a foreign language and then, as if slowly getting the interpretation, eased his hands out of hers.
“What?”
“I know it sounds crazy. My reaction was just like yours. Disbelief. I asked for all kinds of proof and even then had to research it for myself. I had to know for sure, before I said anything to you, that the information I had was authentic beyond a shadow of a doubt.”
“No.” Pierre fell back against the couch, then got up and began to pace. “There’s no way either my mother or grandmother could have survived those waters. You saw the pictures. It was a raging river down there. I don’t know what you saw and I know you probably want it to be true, but that’s impossible.”
“I met her.”
Pierre rejoined her on the couch. “What do you mean, you met her?”
“I had some pretty solid proof that a woman formerly known as Alana LeBlanc was alive and living in Los Angeles. But like I said, I wouldn’t breathe a word to you or Lisette and set up any kind of false hope unless I had irrefutable proof. So I flew to Los Angeles. I went to the address that my contact had given and I met this woman.”
Roz took a breath and pulled out a picture. Her hands shook as she quietly passed it to Pierre. He took it, looking at her with an expression that she could not define. After a moment, he looked at the picture. Several seconds passed. He closed his eyes. His ha
nd went slack. The picture fluttered soundlessly to the floor.
There was no need to ask if he was okay. Given what he’d just found out, there was no way he could be. Roz placed a gentle hand on his forearm. I’m here for you, babe. I’m right here.
Pierre stood abruptly, slowly walked from one end of the living room to the other. Crossed over to a set of French doors. Opened them and walked out.
A concerned Roz hurried out after him. “I can’t imagine how you’re feeling now. I know this is a lot to take in.”
“I can’t believe that’s my...mother.” His voice was barely audible, raspy with suppressed emotion.
Roz stood a couple feet behind him, wanting to make him feel better. Wanting to take away the pain.
“You saw her yesterday?”
Roz nodded. “I did. She lives in the San Fernando Valley in a city called Sherman Oaks.”
“How did you find her?”
“Through a friend, a private investigator who I’ve used before. He has access to information and resources that are not available to the general public, and sometimes not even in the records of the coroner’s office. Because I told him the circumstances surrounding her disappearance, he was surprised to get a hit through another set of records more recent than 2005. So he dug a little further and, needless to say, I was not expecting to hear what he told me. At all. Even after hearing it and deciding to fly to LA, I thought I’d meet a woman with the same name as your mom, and even told my contact to keep looking for the records to confirm her passing.” Roz felt yesterday’s shock all over again. “Need to tell him to stop that search,” she mumbled to herself.
Roz watched as a flurry of emotions ping-ponged across Pierre’s face. She could imagine some of them. They’d been the ones she’d experienced herself. He looked over at the picture on the floor, finally went and picked it up. He stared at it for a long time.
“Come here,” he finally said.
Roz walked over with arms outstretched. Pierre walked into her embrace. She imagined that he was crying, but when he stepped back a short time later, his eyes were dry. He took her hand and led her to the sofa.