Flower of Heaven

by Julien Ayotte

  There is something empty about being alone in a strange city at night. Although the streets of Paris on a summer night were very inviting and filled with people and cafes, where does one go alone at night? It was probably no strange coincidence that led Dick back to the Café Royal as he strolled through the city that evening. Nightlife in Paris begins at 9:00 p.m. and so it was no surprise to see the restaurant bustling with activity and the sidewalk tables bristling with casual conversation and glasses of wine being lifted throughout. Louis Dupont recognized Dick at once as he entered. Anyone aiding Françoise held an instant place in Louis’ memory bank and that afternoon’s incident with the inexperienced bus driver was no exception.

  “Monsieur Merrill, I believe,” Louis stated with a beaming smile. “Are you here for dinner, or are you looking for Françoise?”

  “Uh, no, I’ve already had dinner Mr. Dupont, and I was just walking around on this beautiful night. I did not expect that Françoise would be here, I didn’t think I’d even end up here!”

  “Henri, be sure that table number five is well-taken care of. That is the police chief’s son and his fiancée. We need to stay on the good side of the police, you know,” Louis motioned to one of the waiters as he was busily about his duties of running a very busy café.

  “I was wondering if Françoise ever did separate walking tours when she was not doing the city bus tours. I don’t really know anyone else and there is so much to see.”

  “I am certain that Françoise on her holidays explores more of Paris, Monsieur Merrill. That is an appetite that she has had since she was a small child before the war. She lives in Paris on her own now and if you wish to call her to ask her, you can telephone her at Madame Gagnon’s house where she lives, numereau seven-six-one, three-six-one-seven. Nice to see you again, monsieur, enjoy your stay in Paris.” Dick copied the number down and left the café as he gestured goodbye to Louis.

  Dick never gave much thought to the time of night it was and, as he found his way back to his hotel, picked up the telephone in his room as he entered. The voice at the other end of the receiver was soft and low, “Madame Gagnon, ici.”

  “Do you speak English, Madame?”

  “Yes, un petit peut,” she replied. “How may I help you at this late hour?”

  “May I speak to Françoise Dupont, please?”

  “No, you may not, monsieur,” she answered in a more harsh tone. “It is after ten and Françoise is already to bed in her room, I am certain. I can leave a note for her and she can telephone you tomorrow. She gets up early and is usually gone to work before I am up. Who may I say was calling?”

  The following day, Dick headed for an early train to Rome and the Vatican, where the Pope made his weekly Wednesday appearance to the public. As a newly ordained priest, Dick had been afforded an audience with His Holiness along with a small group of clergymen. The audience would be brief and, just as well Dick thought, since he had purchased a round trip ticket back to Paris that same afternoon. It was late in the day when he returned to the hotel and received a message from the desk clerk along with his room key. The message read, “Will stop by the hotel again at 7. Françoise Dupont.”

  “Hello again, Françoise,” said Dick in the lobby of the hotel when she arrived a few minutes later. “Sorry I wasn’t here when you came by earlier, but I was in Rome and the Vatican today.”

  “That is ok, Richard, I had just dropped off some tourists at this hotel this afternoon and had Madame Gagnon’s note that you called. How did you enjoy the Vatican?”

  “Marvelous. I even saw the Pope with a group of priests in a separate room.”

  “Oh, you were fortunate, Richard; that does not happen too often unless you are a priest or minister with a special pass.”

  Unsuspecting that Dick was a priest, Françoise quite simply assumed that Dick, who wore casual clothing, had connections in the Catholic Church to get such a special meeting. At that moment, Dick hesitated in telling Françoise that he was Father Merrill, not just Richard Merrill. It was like he didn’t want her to know. His face blushed and he badly fumbled for words to change the conversation, surely looking awkward to Françoise in his indecisiveness. He finally managed to blurt out, “Would you have some time one day from now until Sunday to show me some of your favorite sights? Your father told me that no one in Paris knows the sights better than you. I would, of course, pay you whatever you charge.”

  “Oh, Richard, there is so much to see. Trying to do it all in one day is not possible. You could only see some of the beautiful places in such a short time. Are you interested in churches, museums, the river, or what?”

  “Gosh, I never thought about it, but maybe you’re free for dinner tonight and we can put a schedule together?”

  “I am free during the day on Friday for the price of twenty dollars. Tonight is not good for dinner. I meet my father and we have dinner at his home with my mother every Wednesday. Perhaps tomorrow night?”

  “Tomorrow it is, then, shall I go to Madame Gagnon’s house to pick you up?”

  “No, I will meet you here and we can go to Le Relais, a short walk from here. You can tell me everything you’ve already seen in Paris and we will plan the day. Au revoir, Richard.”

  Like a child about to go on a first date, Dick’s heart was beating rapidly and he could do little to hide his excitement as he waved goodbye to Françoise. These were not the feelings of one committing to celibacy, but he could not stop himself from the sheer thought of spending the following evening with this charming and beautiful girl, not to mention the entire day on Friday. He had never felt this way before. Perhaps it was just the natural reaction to Parisian girls he had always heard about.

  On Thursday, Dick headed for the Louvre and seemed to wander aimlessly through the maze of the museum, forever glancing at his watch and wondering why the day seemed to be moving at a crawl. As much as he tried to compose himself, the more anxious he became at the thought of dinner that evening with Françoise. Like a kid in a candy store, Dick was reacting wildly to what should have been a mutual desire to highlight the sights of the city, nothing more. Following a light lunch in a café near the museum, Dick headed back to his hotel to shower and shave again before Françoise would arrive later that afternoon. At the hotel, the desk clerk informed Dick that a Mademoiselle Dupont called to say that she would not be at the hotel until six o’clock. She would explain the delay when she arrived.

  At 5:30 p.m., Dick was dressed in an open shirt and a sports jacket and was sitting in the reception area of the hotel lobby pretending to read a French newspaper. At 6:15 p.m., an eternity later, Françoise appeared through the main door. Dick’s mouth opened and his gaze at Françoise was embarrassing. She wore a beautiful dress with a lace trim at the hem, her golden brown hair accented perfectly under her blue beret. Her face and lines were radiant and her perfume totally mesmerized Dick as if he were in a trance. He did all he could to contain himself and had feelings building inside of him that he had not ever had before. Françoise’s smile was genuine as she greeted him with the customary kiss on both cheeks.

  “Bonjour, Richard, forgive me for being late. Our bus had motor problems and the tour today took longer to finish than usual. Et bien, shall we go?”

  The walk to Le Relais took all of five minutes. Françoise had reserved a table in the far corner of the restaurant so that they could discuss touring plans for Friday. The table was lit by a candle and the amber light was just enough to highlight the radiance of Françoise. The lines of her body were perfect and with each of her moves and gestures, Dick was once again aroused in her presence. Dinner was perfect and when the waiter presented the bill to Dick, Françoise abruptly suggested that they put the final touches to Friday’s schedule at Dick’s hotel room.

  As they strolled back to the hotel, Dick found himself reaching out for her hand and, surprisingly, she accepted this gesture with a slight squeeze of her own hand in his and a warm smile. Her cheeks looked flushed and her eyes were dazzling. U
nder the lights and the brightly-lit sky of a Parisian night, Francoise was beyond just a pretty face. That night was more than Dick had ever thought about. He found himself in her embrace no sooner than they entered his room. Without pressing his body against hers, he began to very slowly run his hand up and down her body, from where he could feel the rapid beat of her pulse on both sides of her throat, to her chest, her breasts, her stomach, around to one buttock, then down to her thigh. Passion immediately overtook both of them and the young innocence from both of them disappeared quickly as they both experienced love making for the first time. The sound of discovery in her breathing put him over the edge, an though it wasn’t simultaneous, a few seconds later she lifted her head and buried her face in his shoulders, holding him tightly. They clutched each other it seemed for hours but, in reality, was a short time. Suddenly, as if the clock had struck the bewitching hour, Françoise dressed quickly and, as she made her way to the door, shouted, “Madame Gagnon will be worried if she doesn’t hear me coming home, she’s like my mother away from home. A demain, Richard.”

  There was so much mixed emotion that faced Dick as he realized what he had just done. He had not yet been a priest a month and had succumbed to his vow of celibacy in a moment of passion. What would he do now, who would he tell, who would understand this human frailty? He could not see Françoise the next morning, he thought, yet would she feel betrayed if he appeared in the lobby dressed as a priest for the day’s activities? What was he to do?

  That night seemed endless as he tossed and turned trying to decide how he would face Françoise the next day. With the early morning light shining through his window at dawn, Dick had decided to continue the charade for this one day. What harm could it do? He would be heading back to Florida in a few days and then to his new parish in Vermont anyway.

  Françoise was alive and warm when she greeted Dick at 9:00 a.m. Dick found her as beautiful as the night before. The day touring Paris was unlike any he had ever been through before. What originally was to be a guided tour through the best places in Paris ended up being a lovers’ day holding hands at every opportunity. They made love again that night and planned on meeting again for dinner at Le Relais on Saturday night at 7:00 p.m.

  Dick was scheduled to return home on a Monday morning flight from Le Bourget. Although Françoise knew this, she shrugged it from her mind and all she could think about was seeing Dick again on Saturday.

  The great deception. That’s all that Dick could think about. Not only had he violated his vows but he had also deceived an innocent young woman by misleading her into thinking that this was an acceptable young love affair that would merely end soon. He could not leave it at that, nor did he want to hurt Françoise, but, she would get over this in time and go on with her life, he thought, and better for her to know the truth.

  At 7:00 p.m., as she entered Le Relais, Dick was sitting at the same table where they sat the first night. The dim lighting allowed Françoise to see Dick’s face, but she did not focus on anything else as she approached him. Suddenly, she noticed more as the light unveiled more as he sat dressed in black with his Roman collar on. Françoise became hysterical and shouted out loud, “Richard, Richard, qu’est ce que sait? You are a priest, a priest? How could you do this to me, how could you let me do this,” she screamed. She broke down in tears and bolted out of the restaurant and all that Dick could do was sit there, speechless and teary-eyed himself.

  On Monday morning, Dick was on a plane back to Boca. The plane ride gave Dick the time to himself that he needed to sort this all out. He would write to Françoise and hoped that she would understand his position and not think harshly of him and their abrupt departure. She deserved some explanation; she deserved at least that much.

  CHAPTER 8

  “My dearest Françoise,” began the letter that Dick had carefully composed in early September 1950 while experiencing one of his first peaceful moments since arriving at St. Catherine’s Church in St. Johnsbury, Vermont. “I hope this letter reaches you and that you are well. Forgive me for not having said goodbye to you before I left Paris and for not telling you in the beginning that I was a newly ordained priest. I was and still am very fond of you and I cherish our time together. It is something I will never forget. I wish you a wonderful life and career in Paris and sincerely hope that you find a wonderful man to share it with. Know that you will always be in my prayers and, should you ever truly need my assistance for anything, at any time, you can write to me at this address. Even if I am no longer assigned at St. Catherine’s, the letter will be forwarded to me wherever I may be.” The letter was signed Father Richard Merrill and addressed to Mlle. Françoise Dupont, c/o Madame Henriette Gagnon, 171 rue Madeleine, Paris, France.

  August quickly turned to September and October as Dick began to become accustomed with the role of a parish priest. His personality and warmth were well received among the parishioners and his youthfulness and exuberance were evident in his weekly sermons when compared to the more serious and mundane sermons given by the pastor at St. Catherine’s, Father Michael O’Malley.

  Things were not going as well, however, in Paris. Françoise was pregnant. She was ashamed to announce this to her parents. They were finally leading a more comfortable and relaxed lifestyle now that the Dupont children were all off on their own, Françoise having been the last to leave the nest. When she called in sick several times at the tour company, Madame Gagnon became both concerned and suspicious. Françoise finally confided in her and Madame Gagnon was there to console her in these trying times.

  “I am too young to raise a child,” Françoise tearfully told Madame Gagnon, “and I will not raise a child without a father. My own father would be so disappointed in me if he knew that I was with a child. He must never know.”

  Madame Gagnon comforted Françoise during the months that followed and it was decided by Françoise that, once the child was born, the baby would be placed for adoption with the Sisters of Mercy Orphanage north of Paris in Giverny.

  As the months passed, Françoise visited her parents less frequently as her pregnancy began to show, no matter how loosely she wore her clothing. In April, she called her mother to tell her that the tour company was sending her outside the city to establish tours beyond the city of Paris. She asked her mother to pass on the news to her father, as she would be leaving immediately the following morning. She would call them as often as she could during her absence and assured them that she would be fine in her upcoming travels. For the first time in her life, Françoise had lied to her parents and she cried that evening at the thought of having done so, but the disgrace of having a child out of wedlock in a very Catholic city like Paris would have brought shame on the family. A twenty-year-old girl just didn’t do this.

  Madame Gagnon had planned to handle the birth discreetly by bringing in an old friend and midwife in early May of that year. As her delivery neared, Françoise could hardly walk, her stomach unusually large, or so Madame Gagnon thought. Once the contractions began and her water broke, the midwife was summoned immediately. At the first sight of Françoise, the midwife stated that this would be a very large baby.

  Françoise delivered twin boys. The delivery became so difficult for the midwife that she needed Madame Gagnon’s doctor to help in the delivery, which was something they were hoping to avoid. Doctor Jean-Louis Mathieu was troubled following the birth of the twin boys. He determined a short while later that it would be quite dangerous if Françoise attempted to have more children in the future because she had lost quite a lot of blood from hemorrhaging. When he related this to Françoise, she did not fully focus on the long-term implications and was only too glad to have this ordeal over with.

  The boys were named Charles Andre and Robert Conrad. Within the month, she would turn them over to the orphanage in Giverny for adoption. She swore Madame Gagnon to secrecy about the boys’ birth and the eventual trip to the orphanage. For the entire month of June, Françoise was depressed at these events and knew that she h
ad not communicated with her parents since just before the delivery. She had left the employ of the tour company when she had lied to her parents about the assignment outside of Paris. Now, she was faced with the need to find another job, to pick up the pieces of her life and go on, something she had not needed to do before.

  Claude Gagnon did not visit his older sister often because his director duties at the Louvre kept him so preoccupied that he had little time to spend with his own wife and children. Nevertheless, in early July, Claude stopped in on Henriette Gagnon for lunch and to catch up on his sister’s health, not having been there since her husband had passed away nearly two years before. Henriette’s children were all grown and on their own living in southern France, along the coast of Nice, and all three worked for a resort hotel in that area. None of the children, two girls and one boy, were married yet and Henriette knew of no upcoming nuptials. They all seemed happy and doing well in the warmer climate as compared to the colder winter months of Paris.

  Henriette was a woman of meager needs and the income she earned from renting her three apartments was sufficient for her to live on. Claude, nonetheless, worried about how long his elderly sister could continue to manage the household. She was now in her early sixties and her hearing and eyesight were beginning to fail. It was on this day that Claude met Françoise for the first time. She was with Henriette when he arrived and was busily doing some housework and about to do some of the washing when Henriette asked her to join them for lunch. Henriette raved about Françoise’s knowledge of French history and sites, citing her rapid rise in the local tour business. What a coincidence, he thought, as the Louvre seriously considered beginning gallery tours as the tourist traffic became increasingly hard to manage. It was also evident that more and more tourists were interested in guided explanations of the assorted artwork in the museum.