by Linda Kepner
Etien read the notice, at first uncomprehendingly — an advertisement for a tenure-track professor of comparative literature, and the job’s requirements. Then he started to smile with relief. “You qualify.”
Bishou nodded. “And I need the practice. I don’t have any teaching experience since I received my doctorate, just pre-doctorate experience. I had an interview with the doyen yesterday. I was just coming back to remind them. Even though I am a woman, and I shocked them severely. They didn’t know I was female until they met me yesterday. Getting the job might be my greatest struggle.”
“A college professor?” Etien reread the notice. “It says part-time.”
“I know it does. Starting positions often are.”
She felt the difference in his grip. “I’m sorry I …” Etien stopped, searching for words.
Softly, Bishou said, “It was you who saw warning signs about Carola, wasn’t it? And you’ve never forgiven yourself for not stepping in and saying more.”
Etien said nothing.
“Etien, you are a faithful friend. Don’t punish yourself because you didn’t act. You made up for your caution ten times over. You stood by Louis when the rest of the world deserted him.”
“I had to,” said Etien. “We were like brothers. We still are.”
“I know.” Bishou still held his hand. “I saw you and heard you together last night.”
“I think he loves you, Bishou. I hope he does. How do you feel about him?”
“Whatever we feel is between him and me, Etien.”
“How could a woman not love him?” Etien asked.
Bishou smiled, and squeezed his hand. “I have no answer to that question, mon ami.”
“I was so frightened when I saw you wandering around town,” Etien confessed. “I was afraid the whole business was starting again, a woman sneaking off to make plans against him. I didn’t feel strong enough to go through it a second time.”
“Once was enough, Etien,” she agreed. “It won’t happen again, I promise. You must learn to trust me, Etien. I know it will be hard, at first. Your conscience still punishes you.”
“Yes, it does,” he admitted. “I know I must — let go — enough to trust.”
“So does he,” she said softly.
Etien started. “I — I hadn’t really thought of it like that. He is the burned child who fears the flame, is he not?”
“I may just go back home.”
“I hope not,” Etien replied. “At least, get a job and stay in the neighborhood. He’s not made of stone.” Suddenly, he smiled, a shy, sweet smile.
Bishou laughed. Gently, she kissed his cheek. “Now you must go home. Or are you going back to work?”
“I’m going home for lunch. I probably will tell Denise, you know.”
“You have a treasure in her, and she in you,” Bishou replied.
“I only wish the same happiness for Louis. I hope you understand,” said Etien apologetically.
“I do understand. Go home. Au revoir, Etien.”
“Au revoir, Bishou.”
Etien left her at the université and went back out to his car. Bishou stared at the posting for a long moment. Then, she heard a woman’s voice.
“Docteur Howard?”
“Oui.” She turned, and recognized the elder secretary. “Bonjour, Madame Ellis.”
“I thought that might be you, Docteur.” She stood beside Bishou and also regarded the job board. “Were you looking to see if there were more postings?”
“No, I was showing the advertisement to a friend.”
“So I saw. That was Monsieur Campard, was it not?”
“Oui, Etien Campard. We were ‘pen pals’ before we met.”
“Ah, I see.” Pen pals were common here.
“I should tell you — Monsieur le Doyen is favorably disposed to having a woman on staff, and he is greatly respected by the université. He comes to us straight from the Sorbonne, you know.”
“So I saw, after I researched him.”
“Ah! You did? Where?”
“The université library, in America. The College for Humanities here is a school to be proud of.”
“We are so new,” said Mme. Ellis, “the newest of the schools, you know. The schools for sciences and technology were established first. We were almost an afterthought.”
“That is sad,” said Bishou. “Humanities are very important. Philosophy, literature — they make a student think about right and wrong. They make a scientist wonder about ethics. Everyone must think about how they will conduct their lives.”
“I am glad to hear you say that,” said Mme. Ellis. “Of course, I do not know for certain whether they will hire you. I am not in the inner circle of these decisions.”
“I understand, and thank you for your kind words.”
“What are you planning to do if you don’t get the job?”
Bishou smiled. “I am superstitious enough not to speak of the future.”
“Do you — is it rude to ask — do you have plans to stay here nonetheless?”
“I think perhaps yes. As I told Monsieur le Doyen, this is a beautiful land, much like the Université of Virginia, where I got my doctorate.”
“I think he was surprised that une Americaine would know so much about French universités.”
“Academia is the same, almost everywhere. Harvard, Yale, Cornell, Purdue, Columbia, Duke, Notre Dame — if you go to one of them, you will be as comfortable there as you are here.”
Mme. Ellis smiled. “But they do not speak French.”
Bishou laughed. “Perhaps, perhaps not. After all, East Virginia University is not famous for its French-speaking population.”
Mme. Ellis smiled again, and held out her hand. “Au revoir, Docteur, et bonne chance.”
“Merci, Madame.” They shook hands, and the secretary walked back to work.
Wonder of wonders, thought Bishou. The secretaries are rooting for me. Some things are universal, after all.
• • •
Bishou had walked farther than she realized. She waited at the université bus stop, and caught the bus back to Missy’s. Then she strolled down the street to the pension. She saw the little white convertible, and realized guiltily that it was past three o’clock. Bishou opened the front door of the pension and stepped inside.
Louis was whiling away the time at the counter, talking to the two sisters. They were almost overwhelmed at having the millionaire in their little pension. But he was being very low-key, having a nice conversation with them about the weather and fishing and tourists. It was the ladies’ reactions, rather than the sound of the door, that made him turn.
“Bonjour, Mademoiselle. Have you enjoyed your morning?” he asked.
“Very much, thank you.”
“Do you need anything?” He glanced at her clothes, perhaps to hint that she should change from her academic outfit. “It will probably be dark before I bring you back.”
“D’accord. I want to fetch some things from my room.”
She ran up the stairs to her room, unlocked the door, went inside, and rummaged through her backpack. She pulled out a cotton summer housedress and flat shoes, and put them on. She found her cardigan, and slid her papers into a leather binder. Then she locked her room and hurried downstairs.
“I am ready.”
Louis said goodbye to the sisters, and accompanied her out the door. Once in the car, he turned to her and said, “Tu es très jolie.” His tone was familiar and personal.
“Merci.”
“You should have nice shoes, and a sundress,” he said. “Perhaps we will buy those before you leave the island.”
“Perhaps,” she said.
He smiled and started the car. They were driving down a grassy, green jungle road when he spoke again. “I told Etien I was not bringing you over for dinner at their place, that we were dining at my house.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he affirmed. “I wanted a chance to speak to you with
out ten thousand interruptions.”
Bishou smiled. “Those boys were lively, weren’t they?”
“Their parents were just as bad. Denise kept repeating herself, and Etien kept interrupting.” Louis shifted gears. “I was stunned enough, without their interference. You never did explain why you came here. Except to say that you wanted to see how I was doing.”
She leaned back, and closed her eyes. “Well, that was the truth.”
He reached over with one hand, and touched two fingers to her cheek — a kiss of sorts. “And what else?”
“The freedom of travel, I suppose. Bat said, just get out of here for a while, and this was a good destination.”
“His letter said he did not know your forwarding address.”
“He merely meant I hadn’t sent him a timetable. I just took things as they came.”
“Did he know you were coming here?”
“Yes, he did.” She sat up as they left the city and entered the greenness of the countryside. She smelled vegetation. Jungle foliage hung down at the sides of the road. Unknown animals called to each other. Beautiful birds sang in the trees. The island’s two great volcanoes, covered with greenery almost to the peaks, could be seen in the distance. The sky was summery blue. “It is spring here, isn’t it — well, as much spring as it becomes?”
“Oui.” He turned down another road, and then a third one. They drove toward a beautiful, three-story white house with elegant brass and wrought-iron railings on its balconies, and open windows everywhere. Under a large shade tree sat a table with chairs. It was a fairyland home. Louis pulled up in front of it, stopped, and shut off the engine.
“Chez toi?” she asked in wonder. Your home?
“Chez moi,” he affirmed with a smile.
“How beautiful!”
“I’m glad you like it.” He got out of the car, came around to open her door, and held out a hand. She took it, and they walked hand in hand to the house.
Two ladies waited inside the front door. Louis introduced them. “My housekeeper, Bettina — ”
“ — and Madeleine,” Bishou finished, holding out a hand to each of them. “The Campard boys told me your names. I am pleased to meet you.”
Both women brightened, although they had already looked happy. “Bienvenue, Mademoiselle,” said Bettina. Madeleine repeated the welcome.
Louis took Bishou into his salon, while the women returned to the kitchen. The furniture was a mixture of French Provincial and basket chair. Louis squatted down by a small cabinet and removed a wine bottle.
As he stood, he said, “In America, we would have cocktails. Do you think you could stand the taste of genuine French Chardonnay instead?”
“I don’t know,” she replied. “It’s been so long.”
Louis laughed, opened the bottle, and poured wine into two dainty wineglasses. They touched glasses. “To your health,” he toasted her.
“And yours,” she replied, taking a sip.
He motioned her to an ivory-colored stuffed chair near the matching couch. He sat on the couch.
“So. Tell me what happened with Bat.”
“His fiancée was killed,” said Bishou. “Her helicopter crashed.”
“Her helicopter?” He was puzzled for a moment. “She was a pilot?” Then the answer struck him. “In the military.”
“Yes. He had said nothing to my parents about his plans to marry, so he said nothing about her death. But his plans became dust, to use your phrase.”
Louis winced. “I am sorry. And any expression of sympathy would be worse than saying nothing, so I say nothing.”
“That’s about it.” Bishou sipped her wine. “I felt pretty helpless myself. I could only do what he wanted me to do — get out, travel, see things, take my turn now. He will take care of things at home, he told me.”
“He gave you freedom, then,” said Louis.
“Oui.”
“For how long?”
“That is the part that bothers me. We set no end date for this freedom.” She set her glass on a little lamp table. A smile started to form on her lips. “I just figured out what is wrong here.”
“Here?” He stared as she squatted down and slipped off his shoes. Hurriedly he set his glass beside hers and laughed as she grasped his legs and lifted them onto the couch. Now he sprawled on his own couch as he’d done on hers back in Virginia. She pulled up a footstool and sat beside him.
“There,” she said. “This is how I am used to seeing you.”
He was still laughing. “I have tried so hard to be correct, and you are blowing my good intentions to pieces.” Louis pointed toward the floor. “Regarde, I even picked up my books from the place I usually drop them.”
“I am glad to hear that you get comfortable in this salon. It is a nice room.”
“I don’t relax much, you know,” Louis admitted. He sat up a little bit, and his smile vanished. His entire attitude changed. Louis held out his arms. “Bishou — embrace-moi.”
It didn’t require much effort for them to wrap their arms around each other and kiss. His lips were soft and warm. To Bishou, his kiss was electric. When it ended, Bishou kissed his cheek, and then kissed his lips again.
“Ah, oui,” he said softly, eyes closed.
“I have wanted to do this for so long,” she said.
“Aussi. Just to touch you, not to be très correct all the time. I will not lie, though, Bishou — I don’t know what I want out of your friendship.”
“You are honest enough to say so, Louis. I am still finding my way, too. And there is plenty of time.”
Louis shook his head, and looked down at their clasped hands. “Most men my age have settled their lives by now. Me, I have dragged my name through the dirt and broken half the commandments, and come back to my cage like a whipped dog.”
“There is nothing to settle tonight. This is a nice dinner, between friends.”
He looked into her eyes. “Do you really mean that?”
“Of course I do.”
“I hope you do, but that is not what women say. They say, ‘Oh Louis, in your heart you have already made your decision.’ And I almost must …”
He made a pushing motion with his hands, and she found herself laughing.
“Bail out,” she supplied.
“Oui, bail out, run away. You, Bishou, you don’t act like that. You say, ‘Tell me more about Carola, she must have been a sketch,’ and you laugh, and you mean it. You are honest with me. So I can speak of you comfortably, and my friends say, ‘Oh, Louis loves this Americaine,’ whether I do or not — because I can say your name.”
Louis stroked her hands, focusing upon them. She clasped his rough hands, and said nothing.
A discreet throat-clearing from Bettina made them look up. “Dinner is served, Monsieur, Mademoiselle.”
Louis slipped on his shoes, and they got to their feet.
“Oh, by the way,” Bishou said in French. “Did I tell you I went to North Carolina and visited Vig and Sukey?”
Louis brightened. “Non! How are they? What is his place like?”
“His place is as big and cheerful as Vig and Sukey. Their children are as big and cheerful as the place.”
Louis laughed as she described the enormous plantation. Bettina ducked in and out, serving the meal and refreshing their drinks. Bishou described staying overnight at their home, and how they had shown her the town.
“Oh, that meant drinks with them, and biftek somewhere,” he laughed.
“Oh, yes, gigantic steaks, the size of an entire ox. And they conjured up a date for me, too.” She raised an eyebrow.
Louis frowned. “Not Gray Jackson.”
“How did you guess that?”
“He said you were a good-looking woman. He was warm for you from the start,” Louis replied. “He mentioned you to me several times.”
“I think he was trying to judge your reaction, because I was your interpreter and he wanted to cut in,” said Bishou.
“Excus
e me — ‘cut in’?”
“I will explain later. This is food is too good to explain now,” Bishou said, taking a mouthful of chicken. “Mmm. I haven’t dined this well since I left America.”
“Well, thank you. I will make sure my staff knows, too.”
A cloud still hung over him, though. Apparently, Louis hadn’t been as oblivious as Gray Jackson thought he was. It looked as though it might have taken an effort for him to pick up his fork and continue. Bishou glanced at his face. She took another bite.
“You should come back to the United States sometime, and see other parts of it,” she continued. “I admit, Virginia was a good introduction. I would enjoy showing you some of the other places I’ve visited. The Grand Canyon. The Mississippi River. New England. Florida. Amish country. There is so much to see in America.”
“It would be nice,” Louis said, “and I am a little curious. However, the tobacco business takes much of my time, and I am grateful to have it. And, if I were away, Etien — you know?”
“As if you said, Guess what, Etien you are going to the dentist daily for two weeks.”
Louis laughed again. “Exactly. For Etien, it would be agony prolonged.”
For dessert they had mangoes with ice cream. In France, it would have been an apple, no ice cream. Little things change with climate, she mused. They talked about where the ice cream was made locally, the mangoes, even the sugar syrup, while they ate.
Bettina filled their coffee cups, and they took them to the salon so she could clear the table. Louis sat again on the couch, Bishou on the ottoman. It was more intimate than the easy chair. Louis was comfortable with it, too. She hadn’t realized how tense he had been until she wrestled his legs up onto the couch. Now, he was smiling and relaxed. His dark eyes danced as he recollected dining out with Vig and Sukey, and things various tobacco-men said.
“We were all like children,” Louis said, “having fun together.”
“All meetings should be that way,” Bishou agreed.
“Oui. More people would come to meetings if they were that pleasant. But I should have warned you that Gray Jackson had designs on you, except that how were you to know I was not trying to take you, myself? It was an awkwardness for me.”