by Kelly Utt
Marcheline didn’t talk about Chicago nearly as much as she thought about it. While she actively avoided memories about her time with Chester and tossed those thoughts out when they encroached upon her consciousness, Marcheline often allowed herself to reminisce about earlier portions of her childhood in Illinois.
When she was a kid, Marcheline’s parents had taken her to an International Festival in Chicago every fall. They’d spend the day taking in the colorful dress and customs of different cultures from around the world, spending most of their time in the area related to their home country of France. But France wasn’t the only country they enjoyed experiencing the culture of. Marcheline’s mother had escorted her around the entire festival in the hopes she’d gain an appreciation for the beauty that existed all around the world. When their legs were tired and they were full to the brim with cultural goodness, they’d make their way to a little cafe with exposed brick walls and large windows in the front that looked much like Rosemary Run’s very own Brick House Cafe. Marcheline took a breath and enjoyed the happy memories as she looked at the restaurant where she was scheduled to meet her daughter.
As she stepped inside, Marcheline saw Sabine and little Amelie immediately. Sabine was standing in a waiting area just a few feet away while holding Amelie on her hip. The baby was five-months-old now and at the stage where she loved to look around at everything. Mirrors, art and pictures with primary colors, and people’s faces provided endless entertainment. Amelie would stare, transfixed and taking it all in. It was a joy to walk her around and show her the world. It was a joy to see the world anew through the baby’s eyes.
Amelie noticed Marcheline first, her chubby little face lighting up with recognition as her rosy pink lips formed into a smile. She was happy to see her grandmother, and the feeling was mutual.
“Sabine! My darling,” Marcheline said as she leaned forward and kissed her daughter on the cheek. “And Amelie, my little darling. How are you, dear?”
Amelie flung her weight forward towards her grandmother and lifted her arms. She was becoming skilled at expressing her wishes now. Marcheline was grateful that the baby wanted to go to her.
“Hi, Mom,” Sabine said, handing the baby over. Amelie squealed with delight as she landed in Marcheline’s arms.
“Good,” Marcheline said. “Let’s get a table.”
Sabine took the lead, walking to the hostess stand as Marcheline followed behind. Little Amelie grasped the blue glass beads around her grandmother’s neck and examined each one closely.
“Table for two,” Sabine said. “And a highchair if you have one.”
A young redhead picked up menus and rolls of silverware from behind the stand, then showed the ladies to a booth up against a row of windows.
“Perfect,” Marcheline said as she sat down and got Amelie situated on her lap. “This is my favorite view, over the courtyard. I especially love it this time of year with all the colorful leaves on the trees.”
“You don’t have to hold her if you don’t want to, Mom,” Sabine said, ignoring the courtyard. “She’s been sitting in high chairs now. I have a soft cover in my bag I can place over top of the wood. It helps secure her and also keeps a barrier in between her and any germs left from other kids.”
“Nonsense,” Marcheline replied. “I enjoy holding her. But maybe we will sit her in the highchair when our food comes. Is she eating any solids yet?”
“Nothing but breastmilk until the six-month mark,” Sabine explained. “But we’re getting close to it. She’s interested in food, that’s for sure. She’s started watching us like a little hawk while Ryan and I take bites.”
Marcheline was proud of what a good mom her daughter was. “I remember that phase from when you were a baby, Sabine. I breast-fed you, too. I remember reading books about attachment parenting by Dr. Sears and trying to do the very best for you I could. I didn’t have anyone around to guide me.”
Sabine smiled. “And then you taught me everything you know.”
“I’d like to think I learned a little something along the way,” Marcheline added, proud of herself. Amelie looked up at her and cooed.
“That brings me to what I want to talk about today,” Sabine began. “Because I’d like to know more about our family history. And I don’t just mean my father. I want to know more about your side of the family, too.”
Marcheline sighed heavily. “This, again?”
“I’m sure you can understand my feelings if you try, Mom. Now that I have a daughter of my own, I want to know where she came from. Ryan’s side of the family is so out in the open that I can just ask if we don’t already know the answers to our questions. But my side of the family is all mysterious, and I don’t think it should be that way.”
Marcheline recoiled. She hunched her shoulders down and sat back in the booth. She didn’t want to hear any of this. “I’ve told you,” she said. “It is what it is, and I don’t want to talk about it. Please, let it rest, Sabine. I beg you.”
Sabine frowned, then tried to adjust her approach. “Mom, I’m not attacking you. Please don’t take it that way. I’m just… Curious. Like with the thing about breast-feeding and six-month-old babies beginning solid foods. I wonder if your mother breast-fed you. And I wonder how early you started eating solids. Or what your first foods were. I’d like to know the same about my father.”
“Sabine, don’t.”
When Marcheline had fled her dangerous circumstances as a young woman, she had cut contact with her parents, Jean-Claude and Francine Bisset. She hadn’t seen or spoken to them since that cold November night when she was just nineteen years old, a full twenty-six years prior.
She had stopped at a payphone on her way out of town and called her parents to tell them she was leaving Chester and the state of Illinois. She hadn’t even told them she was pregnant. She could still hear her mom’s voice on the other end of the line, her heart breaking in real time. Marcheline didn’t feel she could adequately explain. She thought her mother would never understand. Marcheline was running away and changing her identity to save herself and Sabine. It wasn’t out of spite or malice. She hadn’t wanted to hurt her parents. At that tender young age she hadn’t even grasped the damage she was doing by running away. But she knew her decision was about survival. Leaving was the only way out she could see. And she knew she and Sabine deserved better than what her their future would have held if she had stayed.
“Mom,” Sabine said, as gently as she could manage. “There are medical questions our pediatrician asks. Questions about diseases that run on my side of the family. Not to mention, my own doctor asks me the same. From what I understand, it will become even more important to know my medical history as I get older. Do you ever think of that? Do you consider what it’s like for me to be kept in the dark?”
Sabine paused while the waiter arrived then introduced himself and placed two glasses of water on the table. He promised to return shortly to take their order.
Marcheline tried changing the subject without answering her daughter’s questions. “Come now, dear,” she urged. “Let’s look at the menu so we can place our orders when the gentleman returns. I have only an hour right now. When that time is up, I will need to get back to the office for a staff meeting.”
“Mom!” Sabine exclaimed, exasperated. “We’ve been to this cafe hundreds of times. You know what’s on the menu. Will you stop avoiding my questions, please?”
“Sabine!” Marcheline returned, waving an open hand across the table at her daughter. “Darling, I know you have a lot of free time to ruminate on this since you’re a stay-at-home mom now. But I’m busy, and I don’t want to spend the time we have together in disagreement.”
“Really?” Sabine muttered. “You’re going to use work as an excuse for this, too? Unbelievable.”
Marcheline had a hard time facing her past. She sometimes missed her parents terribly. She often had the urge to pick up the phone and call her mom. Even now, she would have liked Francine’s advice
on how to handle her daughter’s incessant curiosity and probing questions. But Marcheline had been so terrorized by what had happened to her and the danger was so real, she couldn’t risk being found. Not even by her own parents.
The waiter returned and took their order while Marcheline and Sabine smiled as if nothing was wrong. Marcheline chose a turkey club sandwich and a bowl of pumpkin soup. Sabine picked a chicken salad sandwich and a side salad. The food was usually served quickly at Brick House Cafe, so Marcheline estimated she only had to get through about ten more minutes until they would have their mouths full.
“Sabine, my dear girl,” Marcheline said, looking her daughter in the eye. She had always thought Sabine’s rich, brown eyes were one of her best features. “I love you more than anything in this world. And now I love Ryan and little Amelie the same. Do you believe me when I say this?”
“Yeah,” Sabine said reluctantly, pouting. “So?”
“So, I need you to believe me when I tell you I have very good reasons for keeping some things from you. I’ve done it to keep you safe. Do you understand?”
“But, Mom,” Sabine replied. “I’m a grown woman with a husband and baby of my own. I can handle more than you think.”
“I know you’re a strong woman,” Marcheline confirmed. “My concerns aren’t about you being able to handle the information. I’m telling you. It’s dangerous. Too dangerous.”
Sabine looked out the window into the courtyard and shook her head in frustration. Then she turned back to her mother, leaning forward with her elbows on the table. “Mom, come on,” she began. “How about you believe me? This is more than just idle curiosity.”
Marcheline’s pulse raced. “Is something wrong? Is it Amelie?”
“Maybe I don’t feel like sharing that information with you,” Sabine said, an edge to her voice. “Maybe it’s for your own good that you don’t know.”
“Mercy, Sabine,” Marcheline said, growing angry now. “That’s not fair. If something is wrong, I need you to tell me right now, young lady.” She looked down at Amelie. The child appeared to be healthy and developing normally.
“Oh?” Sabine replied. “So you don’t like it when the tables are turned? Funny how that works.”
Marcheline fumed at her daughter’s flippant attitude. She wondered what she could say to make Sabine understand, short of the truth. Because telling her the truth wasn’t an option right now.
“It’s not the same. I grew up and found myself in a completely different situation than anything you’ve ever known. Then I got us out. You and me. To save us. My past holds real danger, Sabine. I keep it from you to protect you and your family. But there’s no reason for you to keep things from me. I’ve been a good mom to you. I don’t deserve to be treated this way.”
“Yeah, well, I think it is the same,” Sabine replied. “I've been a good daughter to you. And there’s nothing you could tell me at this point in time that Ryan and I couldn’t handle.” She leaned further forward towards her mom. “Are you afraid? Is that it? Are you sure it isn’t you who needs protected instead of me?”
A tear formed in Marcheline’s eye as she considered her daughter’s question. She was afraid. She knew it. She had lived with her fear for many years. Not only that, it hurt her to quarrel with her daughter. They had always been close and had gotten along well. Marcheline didn’t want this issue to put a wedge between them, especially now that baby Amelie was in the picture.
“If I told you, we’d all need protected. We’re safe the way I have things set up. But if you go upsetting that equilibrium, I don’t know what we will do.”
At her wit’s end, Sabine stood up and took little Amelie out of Marcheline’s arms. “I just lost my appetite. Let me know when you’re ready to have a serious discussion, adult to adult. Until then, I’ll see what I can find out on my own.”
Then Sabine left the cafe and left Marcheline alone, without even eating her sandwich.
3
Marcheline asked for the food to go, deciding to take Sabine’s sandwich back for Rande. She silently cursed Chester Loor and everyone else involved who had forced her to flee and start a new life. Things would have been so much easier if she could have stayed home in Evanston, able to enter adulthood with the support of her parents and childhood friends. Although on the other hand, Marcheline would have missed out on some glorious aspects of current life. Her thoughts on the topic were a mishmash of gratitude and regret.
As Marcheline climbed into her Land Rover and set out on the drive back to Maison du Vin, she let herself imagine how things might have been.
Illinois was different from Northern California, to put it mildly. But Marcheline could have seen herself attending college there, just as she’d done out West. There were plenty of good universities in the Chicagoland area, and she could have seen herself studying business at any of them. She seemed to have a natural aptitude for the field. But Marcheline knew she wouldn’t have landed at a winery if she’d graduated from college in Illinois. Grapes just aren’t grown in that region. Maybe she would have opened a brewery instead. Or a restaurant. Or even a bakery, like her parents. She wondered if she would have gone on to the same level of success that she had with Maison du Vin. Much of her business’ growth had been bolstered by the strong tourism industry in the wine country region. Tourists came to Chicago, of course, but it wasn’t the same. Rosemary Run was a coveted spot for high-end travelers who wanted to spend a lot of money. And Marcheline knew how to wow them. In addition, she had an affinity for wine and for the aesthetic of the rolling hills of a vineyard. She had always thought there was something refined and elegant about the setting, and it suited her. Considering where she’d come from and all she’d been through, Marcheline wore her current elegant lifestyle as a badge of honor. She liked to think it harkened back to her Parisian roots.
If she were in Evanston right now, she would have been cold. The city often saw its first snow this time of year. If Marcheline lived there, she’d be bundled up in winter clothes, complete with a scarf wrapped around her neck and pulled up to shield her nose and mouth from the aggressive cold. It was a very different climate from the one she enjoyed in Rosemary Run. But each climate had its benefits. Snow had been a lot of fun to experience as a kid. Marcheline would have liked for Sabine to share that experience. The only time Sabine had seen real snow had been on trips to the Sierra Nevada Mountains. It was an entirely different thing to have snow fall on your own roof and your own front stoop then it was to take a trip to see it. And Marcheline wished the same for little Amelie. The thought of that baby girl bundled up in a warm Halloween costume was almost too much cuteness to handle. Add Oktoberfest along the shores of Lake Michigan plus brilliant leaves forced down by the first winter wind of the year and the thought made Marcheline downright homesick.
She wondered what her parents would say if she ever showed up on their doorstep a quarter of a century later. Would they be angry and slam the door in her face? Would her mother fall apart and drop to the floor in tears? Her mom and dad were both still alive. Marcheline knew because she had searched the Internet for them from time to time. Although, she felt badly every time she did, knowing that they couldn’t do the same to find out about her. Her parents had no way to know that she was safe, or even still alive. Marcheline knew it must have been a terrible thing for them to face. She wasn’t even sure what they thought had happened. As best she knew, her parents would have considered her missing. At least, they would not have had reason to presume her dead. They must have assumed she just ran away. Even though it was the truth, Marcheline hoped her parents might consider that there had been extenuating circumstances. She hoped they would have known their daughter well enough to realize she wouldn’t make such a decision lightly.
Marcheline wished she could be as sure about personal matters as she was about business. Her lack of savvy in interpersonal relationships often embarrassed her. Her social development had been arrested in her teens. Especially when it came to
romantic relationships, Marcheline knew she was a mess.
Her relationship with Leonard was a prime example. He was a good man. He had a successful career and lived a balanced life. Leonard jogged every morning, kept his house clean, and was trustworthy and reliable to all who knew him. He had been too wrapped up in his career to marry or have children, but that didn’t mean there was anything wrong with him. He was as good of a catch as any, and he understood what it was like to run a business that afforded him personal wealth. At least Marcheline knew he wasn’t after her money, she reasoned. They were both at a point in their careers where they could slow down and branch out into personal pursuits they had previously been too busy to try. The two of them shared a lot of common interests, including hiking, French movies, and hot air balloon rides. On paper, they were a perfect match.
Marcheline and Leonard had been quietly dating for several months. She had been happy with their arrangement until recently, when Leonard decided he wanted more. Seemingly out of nowhere, he had told Marcheline he loved her and that he wanted them to move in together. He was tired of keeping such a low profile in her life and wanted to be front and center. He was ready to meet her family and for her to meet his. He had even mentioned the possibility of a wedding proposal in the not too distant future.
Marcheline realized that any healthy and functional woman in her position would have been thrilled with this natural progression. But she wasn’t any healthy and functional woman. The very thought of what Leonard proposed made her go all weak and clammy. It was as if her body rejected his advances before her heart or mind had a say. She wasn’t sure how she could ever move through the steps necessary for their relationship to move in the direction he wanted it to. Her trauma still had a grip on her, and it held her back.