by Kathryn Shay
So that’s where she was. He’d driven past her house more than once, and saw no lights on or sign of life.
“What will you do, Papa? Are you lonely?”
“Yes, chérie. I’m very lonely. But don’t worry about me. Have fun with Lilliana’s family.”
When they finished the call, he dropped down on a chair and thought about the days to come. What the fuck was he going to do the rest of the week? The rest of his life? He’d planned on being with Mariella for both.
* * *
At home on Saturday, freshly showered and wearing a bit of makeup, Mariella pulled back the sheer curtains and looked through the opening at the deserted road with a light dusting of snow. Still no Antonio. Still no Lilliana. She’d asked the bodyguard/chauffeur to drop Yvette off first, but Lilly objected.
Mama, you haven’t seen her in a week. Don’t you want to?
Yvette was on the video call to her. Her darling face fell. Papa could pick me up at your house.
Mari didn’t know how to avoid a meeting with Jordan. Besides, she had to face him Tuesday for class, so she should get it out of the way privately. Still, her heart beat like a drum at the thought of facing him.
Maybe you should learn from that. Raven had said the words about Mari wishing she’d had those six months with Arturo.
Then, Friday night she and Raven were lying in front of the fire, their legs up on either side of the brick, like they used to do at the palace when they were little, and Raven broached the subject.
Do you still love him?
You don’t get over love easily. Or ever sometimes.
All right, my last piece of advice. Meet with him. See what he wants to do. Find out if you can deal with a man who’s married, so first talk about that.
Elise said she’d ruin him with the affair if he tried to divorce her.
Maybe Jordan should call her bluff. If he’s her cash cow, I doubt she’d really want to ruin him.
Finally, a car trundled down the street. But it was a black Volvo instead of the limo. Jordan.
When he knocked on the front door, and she opened it, they stared at each other, speechless. After he came inside and took off his coat, he leaned against the wood. The week had not been kind to him.
She said, “There are lines around your mouth and eyes.”
He responded, “Your eyes are red. Have you cried all week?”
“Some of it.” She turned and walked into the living room. He followed. She sat stiffly on the sofa, him on a chair. Their bodies were rigid as, again, they took in the sight of the other. Finally, he shook his head. “Do we have nothing to say?”
“I don’t know, Jordan. I want to see a way out of this.”
“Thank God.”
“But I don’t. Even if I could forgive your lies, if you have me, you don’t have Yvette.”
“I can never let that innocent child live with Elise. The woman would destroy her.” He ran a hand through his hair, messing the now-dull locks. “That’s why I’ve been in this situation for so long.”
“I love Yvette. I don’t want that for her either.”
“So, this is it, right?”
“Yes, I guess. Unless you have anything to add.”
“I—”
A honk came from outside. Mari sighed. “They’re here.”
Leaning forward, he grasped her hands. “I’m sorry, Mariella.”
“Me, too.”
In minutes, Antonio and the two girls walked through the door. Antonio stood back as the children ran to their parents. Jordan caught Yvette to him, and Lillianna jumped into Mariella’s arms. “I missed you, Mama.”
Yvette kissed Jordan on the lips. “Papa. I missed you.”
As they clasped their children to their hearts, their gazes met. There really was no way out of this.
* * *
On Tuesday afternoon, Jordan walked into his empty classroom. He’d come in early before the Ethics class to do some administrative work he’d let go over the break. The space was gloomy today, as the clouds in the sky threatened more precipitation. Switching on the overhead lights first, he crossed to the front table, took out his computer and booted it up. Georgetown was paperless, and all memos were sent on their faculty accounts. Jordan clicked into that email account. An evaluation for the retreat. A notice about next semester’s schedule. The dean asking him for a meeting. And a drop/add form. He did a double take. Mariella Moretti: Drop—independent study with Dr. Dubois. Merde! He leaned back. He should have expected this. She wouldn’t want to be alone with him.
Class members meandered in, greeting him, talking to each other. They set the desks in a horseshoe and took seats. At four, Mariella still hadn’t appeared, but he began class. “Welcome back.” He opened his book to check his records. “Ms. Carrington, I think it’s your turn to present.”
Anna distributed her outlines and gave a brief summary of her topic: the government corruption and the unethical behavior of Congress. At that point, Mariella came to the doorway, then entered class quietly. He glanced over, nodded, and listened to Anna continue. The woman was smart, insightful and creative in her approach.
After the second presentation, Jordan presented the schedule for the next hour of the class. He also gave midterm grades. Most of them were A’s. One B for Ms. Carrington who, despite his efforts to give her leeway, had missed some work. And one C for Walker, of course. “If you have any questions about grades, make an appointment by email to see me in my office. Now let’s...”
His phone buzzed. A text in the middle of class meant only one thing. To the students he said, “I’m sorry. This is from my daughter’s after-school care facility.” He read the message. Please come to Stepping Stones right away.
When he looked up, he noted that Mariella, phone in hand, face pale, had stood. “I got a message about my daughter, too.”
“Let’s go.”
By silent consent, when they got outside, they approached his car and drove to the school building five minutes away. He reached across the console and took Mariella’s hand on the way. He squeezed it, then held on. They said nothing. At Stepping Stones, they held hands all the way inside because they both knew something was very wrong.
At the entrance and to the left was the administration office. Through its glass walls, they could see one little girl sitting with Jane Harrington, the director of the after-school care.
It was Lilliana.
* * *
Lilliana ran to Mari. She hugged her mother. “It was awful, Mama. Yvette didn’t want to go with her mother. She whispered it to me and I held her hand.”
Jordan’s fist curled at his side, he turned to the director. “What is she talking about? Where’s Yvette?”
“Your wife came to pick her up. I asked for identification and documentation that she was permitted to take Yvette. The woman had her passport, Yvette’s birth certificate and a typed and signed note from you. As is policy, I compared the note to the signature you left on file and the birth certificate to one you gave us.”
“What is Lilly talking about?”
“I took Mrs. Dubois to the room where the girls were having free time. At first, Yvette hugged her, but then she backed away when Mrs. Dubois tried to coax her to go with her. She and Lilliana held hands and I could see Yvette said no at first. But in the end, she went—reluctantly. Your wife took your daughter—her daughter—out of our care program.”
At hearing the event described aloud, Lilliana started to cry again. “I tried to help.”
Mari held her close. “I know, baby.”
Jordan’s face reddened. “Why on earth would you allow this to happen without phoning me? You said my daughter did not want to go.”
“Because Yvette was reluctant, I did try to call you. There was no answer.”
He hadn’t gotten any calls while he was working at school, but took out his phone anyway. And there it was, a message he hadn’t seen earlier, that hadn’t come through earlier. “I’d like to view the docum
entation.”
The woman handed him copies of the paperwork. Mariella moved to his side and checked them out. It was all there. The signed note from him saying Elise could take her looked real.
But Jordan said, “It’s forged.”
“How would I know that?” Mrs. Harrington’s voice was strong. She thought she did the right thing.
“I don’t know. In any case, Mrs. Harrington, Yvette’s mother kidnapped my daughter.”
* * *
“Alert the campus police. Call the local police department. They’ll get in touch with the FBI.” Frankie’s voice was professional and calm when Mari phoned her.
Since she was on speaker, Jordan said, “I have to do something!”
“Dr. Dubois, listen to me. This is doing something.”
Seemingly overcome, he dropped down on the chair behind him. Mari said into the phone, “We’ll do what you say, Frankie. Thanks.” She took a seat next to Jordan and tugged Lilliana down with her.
The director went to her desk. “I’ll call the campus police.” She turned to Jordan. “You phone the D.C. police.”
Coat still on, he punched in 911. “I’d like to report a kidnapping.”
Beside her, Lillianna said nothing. Mari put her arm around her daughter. “You okay, baby?”
“Is Yvette?”
“I’m certain her mother will keep her physically safe.”
Mari eased off her jacket. When Jordan disconnected, she said, “Take off your coat. We’ll be here awhile.” She assisted him with his wool outwear. The director’s eyebrows rose, and Mari realized the intimacy of her action.
Excruciating minutes ticked by. All the while, Mari knew Elise could be at the airport now, flying out of the country and taking Yvette with her.
The campus police showed up first, and Mrs. Harrington gave them the information. The local police came next. After introductions, Jordan said, “Elise will take her right to the airport.”
“We called the feds.” The detective from the D.C. Police Department appeared suitably stern. “They’ll get a jump on checking rosters. They can ground her.”
“Tell us what happened?” the other cop asked.
Again, they recounted the events. This time, Lilliana cried through her recitation. Mari held her close.
Finally, the local FBI showed up. “I’m Special Agent Deluca and this is Agent Longmire.”
“You have to act fast.” Jordan’s voice was laced with urgency. “My daughter was kidnapped by her mother. She’ll leave the country with Yvette ASAP.”
“We need some information first,” Deluca said. “Tell us what happened.”
Another horrific recitation of the events.
The second agent jotted down notes.
Deluca zeroed in on Jordan. “I assume the statement with your permission is forged.”
“It is.”
“Do you have copies of your custody agreement?”
Jordan’s face blanked.
Mari’s façade cracked a bit.
“We don’t have a custody agreement.”
Deluca’s brows rose. “Excuse me?”
“We’re still married. I’ve had Yvette with me the last six years, and it’s been fine with Elise. But there’s nothing written down.”
“Not even a legal separation agreement?” Longmire asked.
“No, as I said, we didn’t document anything.”
The agents exchanged glances. Deluca finally said, “Then we can’t track them down, Dr. Dubois.”
Jordan shot up out of the chair. “She took Yvette against her will!”
“A parent with joint custody can do that.”
“They don’t have joint custody,” Mari put in.
“They do in the United States if they’re legally married and there’s no agreement stating specific rights otherwise. I’m pretty sure that’s the law in France, too.”
“Yes, in France, with or without a separation or divorce, both parents have custody of their child.” He lifted his hands. “It never mattered that she wouldn’t give me a divorce before. She didn’t want Yvette.”
The agent said, “Apparently, she does now.”
Chapter 9
In a daze after the police left, Jordan looked around the office wildly. He had no idea how to handle this situation.
Mrs. Harrington walked around her desk. “Dr. Dubois, is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Ah...”
“No, thank you.” Mariella stood. “Could you give us a few minutes alone?”
“Of course. Use my office as long as you need. And again, Dr. Dubois, I’m sorry about all this.”
Mariella closed the door when the woman left.
“Mama, aren’t we getting Yvette back?” Lilliana sounded panicky.
“Yes, of course we will.”
Jordan turned to her. “I don’t know what to do. None of this ever mattered for the past six years.”
Mari knew she couldn’t leave him, despite what was between them. She also realized she had to take over. “First, we’ll go back to your house. Elise might return there.”
“You think she will?”
“I don’t know. At the very least, she might call, and that’s the best place to be.” She said to Lilliana, “Honey, you should go to Aunt Brie’s.”
“No, I want to be with Dr. Dubois and you.”
Mari sighed at the stubborn look on her face. “All right, for a little while.”
On their way out, Jordan took one of her hands and Lilliana took the other. Frigid February air whipped around them. Mari squeezed Jordan’s ungloved fingers. “I’m driving.”
He nodded. He was stunned by the course of events, and the air of defeat that cloaked him was worrisome. His demeanor was something she hadn’t seen before.
Because of the congested traffic and some drizzling snow, the trip to Jordan’s house was excruciatingly slow. All the way, Jordan kept staring down at his phone. Finally, they arrived. With the pall still over him, he unlocked the door and walked inside. Mari said to Lilliana, “I need some adult time with Dr. Dubois.”
“Can I go to Yvette’s room?” she asked innocently. “I’ll feel better there.”
“Go ahead, baby.” She checked her watch. “Are you hungry?”
Lilly shook her head, then crossed to Jordan, who stood with his coat on in the mudroom. She hugged him around the waist.
When Mari and Jordan were alone, she said, “Let’s go to the den.”
He got off his own coat this time, threw it on a chair and they settled in the den on the leather sofa. “I—I’m—” He put his head in his hands.
Mari sat close and rubbed his back. “You’re immobilized. I would be, too if someone took Lilly.”
“I don’t know how to get her back. I don’t even know where she is.”
“You feel terrible. You should.” She walked to a credenza and poured them both a bourbon then sat down next to him. “Drink this.”
She wanted to rail at him for not getting a divorce and legalizing custody before she got involved with him. Before Elise took Yvette. But she knew she couldn’t hurt him like that now.
When they finished drinks, she stood. “I’m going to make some supper.”
“I can’t eat.”
“You have to. Who knows how long...” She trailed off.
The evening wore on. Mari made soup and grilled cheese sandwiches for all of them. Jordan ate by rote, silently. Mari let him be what he had to be and made conversation with her daughter, who was withdrawn, too.
At nine, when they were in the den, and she and Lilliana had finished a card game, she said, “Come on, bambina, let’s get you to bed.”
“Here?” Jordan asked.
“Yes. Unless you want us to leave.”
“God no. I want you with me.”
Again, Lilliana threw herself at Jordan and hugged him. “We’ll get her back, Dr. Dubois. Mama’s family can do anything.”
He kissed her cheek. “Buonasera, ma pet
ite chérie...?”
“Bonne nuit.” She turned away and Mari followed Lilly upstairs.
As she helped Lilliana take off her shoes, as she brushed her hair and washed her face, Mari felt a streak of panic. What would she ever do if... For that reason, she held her daughter close to her heart until the girl fell asleep.
When Mari returned, she and Jordan sat in front of the fire, staring at the myriad colors of the flames. Dark reds. Greens. Yellow. Even black.
“It’s amazing,” he finally said. “You can see all your mistakes in the rearview mirror and wonder how you could make them.”
“Papá always says hindsight’s twenty-twenty.”
“I let her go back to the lifestyle she wanted. But before I gave her money, I should have insisted on a legal agreement.”
“It’s important to live in the present, Jordan. What can we do about this situation now?”
“I’m a lawyer. A law professor. Don’t you think I’ve examined all the possibilities?”
“I—”
Just then, his phone rang. He scooped it up off the coffee table. “Hello.” Then he added, “Oh, thank God, Yvette.”
He put the phone on speaker.
“Please, Papa, come get me.”
“Tell me where you are, love.”
“In a hotel. With Mama.”
“Is she there with you now?”
“Oui.”
“Please put her on the phone.”
They heard over the speaker, “Go into the bedroom, Yvette.”
“No.”
“Do as I say, or you won’t see Papa again.”
“Elise, don’t threaten my child.”
“It worked. She’s gone. Besides, she’s my child too, a fact you seem to keep forgetting.”
Mariella squeezed Jordan’s arm. She mouthed, Keep calm.
“What do you want, Elise?”
“Why, what I’ve always wanted, darling, the status quo.”
Jordan gripped the phone. “The status quo is no longer acceptable to me.”
She laughed, an ugly sound. “Is that because of...what do they call them in America? Yes, your little chipie?”