Jean carried the three parfait glasses over while Giselle brought out a bowl from the refrigerator and began to scoop its contents into a piping bag, just like I had seen Monsieur Segal do with frosting.
“Who wants fresh whipped cream on top?” Giselle asked.
She spiraled the fresh cream round and round into my parfait glass. I could not help but pick up my spoon and dive in. The whipped cream was very different from Monsieur Segal’s and not nearly as sweet, but the ice cream tasted even better and my tongue was soon coated with cream. I shut my eyes as the layers of ice cream and chocolate melted in my mouth leaving pieces of sweet strawberries behind.
I was more than half way through the glass dish when I realized Giselle and Jean had barely begun theirs.
“A little pig,” I suddenly heard Maman say. “A little stuffed pig.” The words stirred around in my head. It was all true. I would end up like Mrs. Lavasseur for certain. My stomach began to swirl around so quickly. I clutched at it to try and get it to stop, but it would not.
“What is it, Etoile?” Giselle asked. I looked up at her, but the room began to spin around and the two flames from the candles suddenly become six.
I made it to the sink just in time. Giselle stood behind me, speaking quietly to my ear while she held back my hair.
“Ne t'en fais pas, Cherie. Don’t worry. Ce n'est pas grave. It is no problem.” Turning to Jean she said, “Do you think we should call Eppy?”
”Jean, who stood at the far end of the counter with her arms folded tightly against her chest said, “She and Carol drove to Portsmouth tonight. Besides, it’s probably just all the food.”
“Poor Etoile,” Giselle said as she rubbed my shoulders.
When I was done, I felt Giselle’s arm around me holding me steady. “Come on, Cherie. We will get you cleaned up and into bed.”
Jean waved a hand at me. “I hope you feel better, Etoile,” she said.
***
Giselle tucked me into the bed with the spongy mattress, leaned over and felt my forehead and cheeks.
“There is no fever,” she said in a relieved tone. “Perhaps Jean is right. I should not have made all of that food. It was too much.”
“But it was very good,” I said. “And I am feeling better now.” I really was.
“I am glad, but if you feel sick again, just knock on the door, okay? Even if it is the middle of the night.”
I nodded feebly.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, Cherie?”
“Giselle,” I said grabbing her arm, “do you know about Anais?”
Giselle sat down on the bed and brushed back my hair. “Tonight you get a good night’s rest and tomorrow we will talk about Anais. Okay?”
“But Giselle,” I said again. She put a finger to my lips, bent forward and kissed me on both cheeks just as Papa used to.
“Bonne nuit, Etoile,” she said.
CHAPTER SIX
I did not know what time it was when I woke up the next morning, but I came down the stairs to find Giselle sitting cross-legged at the kitchen table wearing a man’s shirt reading an article about different kinds of fondue and sipping a cup of coffee. Her hair was clipped back, framing her triangular face.
She looked up at me and smiled. “Good morning, Cherie,” she said as she gestured me towards her. I bent forward and she planted a kiss on my forehead. “Good. Still no fever,” she said cupping my chin with her hand.
“How do you feel?”
I wanted to say “hungry” because I was, but I didn’t dare.
“Fine.”
“Do you think you can manage some breakfast?” she asked. “I have fresh eggs.”
“Maybe, thank you.”
Giselle took out a pot and pan. “You will need to eat carefully today.”
“Giselle?” I asked.
She broke open an egg using only one hand into a bowl. “Yes, Etoile?”
“You said you would talk to me about Anais today.”
She glanced at me for a second before turning back to the stove. I watched her grab a whisk from an old pottery jar on the counter. Her hands became a blur as she whipped the eggs into a creamy froth.
“Yes I did and we will, but not now. We have a very busy day today.”
“We do?” I asked as she dropped butter into the pan and swirled it around in circles before pouring the egg mixture in.
“First, we will go to visit our friend. She is a doctor. A real doctor. You must get a quick checkup before we can register you for school.”
“School?”
I froze. No one had ever mentioned my going to school here.
“But I will not be here that long…” I began.
Giselle took the spatula, slid it carefully under the eggs and gently flipped them over.
“Etoile, you must go to school for as long as you are here. Even so, there are only a few more weeks before summer vacation, I think. We’ll find out later on when we visit.”
“Visit?”
“Yes, to register you. But first, you must have a quick checkup. You will like Eppy. She is a wonderful doctor and a very nice person. She is a good friend of Jean’s and mine.”
I began to think about going to a strange school with new children and my stomach began to knot up.
“But I’m only staying until Anais comes for me,” I said.
Giselle glanced back at me and smiled. “I know.”
But I wasn’t so sure she understood that. “Giselle, there was a boy at school, Emile Dupuis, who was very sick and his Maman taught him at home. Couldn’t you just teach me here for a little while?”
“I am not a teacher,” Giselle said.
“But Jean is. She is a real teacher and she loves to read.”
“And she works many hours,” Giselle said as she set a plate down in front of me. The omelet was a perfect golden color. Giselle brought out some of the crusty bread she had made the night before and placed it on the table.
“Etoile,” she said picking up her coffee cup, “we will get through all of this together but you must be strong. It will be good for you and good for me for you to go to school. You don’t want to fall behind, do you?”
“No, but…”
“Eat very slowly,” she said as she set a glass of orange juice on the table in front of me. “I am going upstairs to get dressed.”
***
The Eastern University Medical Clinic was located in a small brick building off the main path of the campus. A woman around Jean’s age with short brown hair that was streaked with gray throughout it, sat behind the reception desk.
She smiled widely when she saw us. “Giselle,” she said as she leaned across the counter and kissed Giselle on the cheek.
“Carol, this is my cousin, Etoile Toussaint. Etoile, this is our friend, Nurse Carol. She comes to visit us often at the cottage.”
“Hello, Etoile,” she said.
The woman was taller than Giselle and had green eyes and a slightly protruding chin, but a pleasant smile. She wore a white nurse’s uniform with slacks.
“Hello,” I said.
“How do you like it here so far?” Carol asked.
“Very nice, thank you,” I said, “but I am only staying for a little while.”
She raised her eyebrows and looked at Giselle. Giselle bit her lip.
“Did you and Eppy have a nice time in Portsmouth?” Giselle asked.
“Yes. We went to see Saturday Night Fever then went disco dancing. You and Jean should…” she stopped, looked at me and smiled.
“That is alright. Jean does not dance disco. Jean does not dance, period.”
“I’ll let Eppy know you’re here,” she said as she picked up the phone and spoke into it.
Glancing around the room, I saw several children in the waiting room, some sitting, some running around while their mothers tried desperately to corral them. One boy around my age with bright red hair seemed to be staring right at me. Or perhaps he was staring at Giselle. I coul
d not quite tell.
The mother, whose hair was the same color as her son’s was dressed in a polyester bow blouse fastened tightly around her neck and a long gray skirt. She was reading Woman’s Day magazine but glanced at her son to see what had caught his attention. She looked across the waiting room at us and her eyes narrowed when she saw Giselle, then rose curiously when she saw me.
Giselle spotted the woman, leaned further over the counter and lowered her voice. “This is quite a surprise,” she said quietly to Carol.
Carol shook her head. “Believe me; she’s not here by choice. Their regular practice is booked and he needs to be seen. We don’t turn people away, Giselle. You know that. Go ahead and have a seat. Eppy will see you soon.”
Giselle looked around the room as if she was trying desperately to find other seats, but the only ones available were opposite the woman and her son. I heard Giselle give a small sigh as we sat down. The woman immediately lowered her magazine and looked at us.
“Miss Simone,” she said slowly.
“Mrs. Batchelder,” Giselle said with little enthusiasm in her voice.
The woman gestured towards me with her head. “And who is this?”
Giselle touched my arm. “This is my cousin, Etoile. Etoile, this is Mrs. Batchelder. Her husband is a professor of Morals & Ethics at the University.”
“Hello,” I said.
The red-haired boy let out a cough in our direction. Giselle grabbed me by the shoulder and pulled me towards her.
“Poor Dale,” Mrs. Batchelder said running her hand through her son’s wiry hair. “We’re only here because our regular physician is booked and he needs to be seen. He’s running a terrible fever.”
“Of course,” Giselle said. I could see the tightness of her jaw, which reminded me of Maman’s when she got angry. Giselle’s hand was still on my shoulder when the boy let out another cough.
“And how old are you, Etoile?” the woman asked as her son continued to cough.
“I am eleven.”
“Same as Dale. And where is your family staying while they visit?”
Giselle squeezed my shoulder even harder.
“Etoile did not come with family, she came by herself. Her mother recently passed away.”
“I am so sorry,” the woman said and for a second. “Father?”
“A fisherman lost at sea several years ago.”
“Oh dear,” Mrs. Batchelder said. Her expression was contrite and she tilted her head to the side. A second or two later she glanced up sharply at Giselle. “But surely you’re not thinking…”
“Thinking of what, Mrs. Batchelder?” Giselle asked with a planted smile on her face. Her hand was still squeezed tightly into my shoulder.
Nurse Carol called Dale’s name and without another word the mother grabbed her son by the arm and yanked him away. The boy turned back and stared at me as he was led down the hallway.
“Oh Cherie,” Giselle said as she finally realized how hard she had been squeezing my shoulder. “I am so sorry. I did not mean to…”
“Giselle,” I asked, “What did that woman mean when she said, ‘But surely you’re not thinking…’ You’re not thinking of what?”
“We will not worry about anything that woman says,” Giselle answered as she quickly picked up a Family Circle and flipped haphazardly through the pages.
Giselle flipped so quickly through the pages that I knew she could not possibly be reading them. Finally, she reached over and took me by the chin and held it for just a second and smiled. She dropped her hand and went back to the magazine and began to read it again from the beginning.
As I sat in the waiting room with Giselle, my eyes fixed on a poster showing two children getting on a school bus. It said, “Immunizations Save Lives.”
“Giselle!”
“What?”
“I will not have to get a shot, will I?”
Giselle lowered the magazine. “Of course not. This is just a checkup.”
Carol came over to us and said, “Room Two, your favorite.”
Giselle smiled, but I could not imagine why she would have a favorite room at a doctor’s office. As we stood up, Carol called Giselle’s name.
“Are we still on for Saturday night?”
Giselle opened her mouth, and then glanced down at me. “Oh mon Dieu, I completely forgot,” she said. “It was this Saturday, wasn’t it? I will have to talk to Jean. I am not sure if we…”
“It’s no problem at all,” Carol said. “Everyone would certainly understand if you want to cancel.”
The room we waited in was painted in a light green shade and had a mobile of smiling fish with rainbows painted on them dangling over the examining table. The fish swam around happily under their own power. Above the table on the wall was a very large, colorful painting of two bears walking along a wooded path, holding hands. One was looking up and reaching for a falling leaf descending from the sky. The other wore glasses and was holding a copy of Little Women very close up to its face. The bear that was reading seemed oblivious to the large green turtle that was crossing the road directly in front of it. There was something about the painting that made me smile. I was still looking at it when the door suddenly opened up and a young woman dressed in a long gray skirt and white coat with a stethoscope draped around her neck, stepped in. She had long, blonde hair pulled back in a twist and very light blue eyes. She was very pretty.
She stepped forward and kissed Giselle on the cheek.
“Hi Sweetie,” she said. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long. I had an unexpected emergency.”
“So I saw,” Giselle said with a bitter tone.
The woman shrugged. “And the sick will be treated without prejudice, or so the oath says.” Holding out her hand to me she said, “And who is this beautiful young lady?”
“Eppy, this is my cousin, Etoile Toussaint. Etoile, this is Dr. Gloria Epstein, but you may call her Eppy because she is a good friend.”
I froze. Epstein. This was most definitely a Jew’s name, but surely this woman could not be a Jew? She was much too pretty. Her eyes, though pale in color, crinkled up along the edges when she smiled, just like Giselle’s. Her lips were quite full and red and covered with clear gloss. Her hair was silky and wisps of it hung down from where she had it pulled back. Surely Maman had never worked for a Jew like this.
“Etoile?” Giselle asked giving me a small nudge on the back and I realized the woman was still holding out her hand to me. I shook it and she laughed.
“You even look like Giselle. How lucky are you?”
Giselle patted my shoulder.
Giselle stayed in the room with me while Eppy weighed and measured me, looked at my eyes and down my throat and in my ears. While she listened to my chest and back, Eppy asked me many questions about when I had last been to a doctor, which had been years; whether I had been to a dentist recently, which I hadn’t; and what I liked about school. The only thing I could think of was reading.
“She has already read half the books Jean brought home for her,” Giselle said.
Eppy laughed. “Spoken like a proud Mamma,” she said. “I’m sure Jean’s thrilled.”
“Yes,” Giselle answered.
“And no period yet, right?”
I looked over at the picture of the bears and shook my head.
Eppy touched my knee. “Isn’t that a great picture? Your cousin is so talented.”
“You did this?” I said turning to Giselle, who smiled. Looking more closely, I saw “Giselle” painted in the lower right-hand corner.
“The children who come in all love it. Several of them have written stories about what happened next,” Eppy said.
“What did they write?”
“In one story, the reading bear trips and falls and ends up right here in this room, but is fine. Nothing broken and the turtle’s hard shell saves it from being hurt. In another story, the bear reaching for the leaf drags the reading bear over to help her catch more leaves and the
turtle crosses unharmed. But that’s not my favorite.”
“What is your favorite?”
“One patient wrote that the two bears stop and stare at each other for a few minutes because they are so in love, giving the turtle plenty of time to cross.”
I liked that ending. “Is that how it goes?” I asked Giselle, but she shrugged.
“The story is whatever you want it to be,” Giselle said.
“And what do you like to eat?” Eppy asked as she felt around my neck.
“I ate everything Giselle made last night.”
“Yes, but her tummy did not like it so much,” Giselle added. “I should not have made so much food.”
“Oh?” Eppy said. She had me lie down and felt my stomach and listened to it with a stethoscope. “Do you get tummy aches often?”
“Only when I…” I began to say.
“Only when you what?” she asked sitting me back up.
“Sometimes, if I get …upset.”
“Hop on down,” she said smiling. “I think you’re fine.”
“Really?” Giselle asked.
“She looks great,” Eppy said as she made notes on my chart. “Her ears, eyes, lungs, everything looks fine. My only concern is her weight.”
***
I had been leaning down tying my shoe and stopped as the words floated down to me. I suddenly felt the breakfast eggs stirring around in my stomach.
Eppy turned a chart around for us both to look at. “She’s in the sixtieth percentile for her height, but only the thirtieth percentile for her weight.”
“Meaning what?” Giselle asked.
“Meaning,” Eppy said as she leaned over and poked me in the belly, “that you need to gain some weight. But I’m quite confident that staying with Giselle will take care of that.”
***
Gain weight? This could not be true. I could not believe my ears.
“Are you sure?” I asked her. “Because Maman …”
“Because Maman what?” Giselle asked.
I shook my head. “Nothing.”
The French Girl Page 6