by Kelly Utt
He gestured, as if zipping his lips. “It’s under lock and key.”
“But that’s not the most surprising part of the story,” Marcheline said, winking.
“Do tell, Ma’am. I won’t have a need to watch my afternoon soap operas after hearing all of this.”
“You’re so silly,” Marcheline said. She knew Rande wouldn’t be caught dead watching an afternoon soap opera, which made his comment that much funnier. “The most surprising part… Is that there’s another man, too. I’m seeing them both.”
“Would you look at you?”
“His name is Jim Bennett.”
“And what is he like?”
“He is… A lot different from Leonard. Jim is a history teacher at East Valley High. And he’s pale as pale can be, with blonde hair and a man bun. He kind of reminds me of a middle-aged surfer dude. A Matthew McConaughey type.”
“What do you know?” Rande mused. “I take it Leonard isn’t the surfer dude type.”
“Not at all,” Marcheline said emphatically. “I’d be surprised if he spent much time outdoors. He wouldn’t want to get his expensive shoes dirty.”
Rande laughed heartily now, placing one leathery hand over his belly. “Sounds like you’ve got quite the opposite ends of the spectrum in play here. I guess I can see you wanting to sample some different flavors at all. You’re still pretty new to this thing called dating.”
“Is that what I’m doing? Sampling flavors?”
“You tell me. How do they taste, Ma’am?”
Marcheline grew embarrassed again. “You’re terrible,” she said to her friend. “But I guess you’re right. For whatever reason, I finally got up the courage to try dating. I suppose it feels like my life is stable enough now to try a few things and find out what I like. I’ll figure it out in time.”
“That’s right, you will. And if any of these guys give you trouble, you let me know about it. You hear?”
“That’s sweet, Rande. Do you realize you’re like a big brother to me? Like the big brother I never had. I sure could have used a big brother’s protection when I was a kid.”
“I know it, Ma’am. If the position’s open, I suppose I’ll take it,” he replied with a smile. “Truth be told, I already think of you as a kid sister. At first, it was weird that you were also my boss. But we have the kind of friendship that will outlast our professional relationship. It’s all good. Don’t you think?”
Marcheline crossed her hands in front of her as she smiled back at her friend. “Indeed, it is,” she replied. “All good. Now get back to your office and hush. Like you promised. I have work to do.”
2
“Yes, hello?” Marcheline answered as she picked up the phone on her desk. “You’ve reached Maison du Vin. Marcheline Fay speaking.”
“Mom, it’s me,” Sabine said.
“Oh, hello, my darling. What are you doing calling me on this line?”
“I tried your mobile. It went straight to voicemail, which is full, by the way,” Sabine explained. “I wondered if you’d like to meet me and Amelie for lunch. Can you get away?”
Sabine was accustomed to her mother's work taking up much of her attention. She knew not to assume Marcheline would be free, especially during harvest season.
“That would be lovely. You know, I always like to see my baby girl and her baby girl. Let me just check my calendar,” Marcheline replied. “Where are you thinking?”
“Somewhere quick is fine,” Sebine explained. “It won’t take long. How about Brick House Cafe? When we’re finished, I can get Amelie in the stroller and do some walking around downtown.”
“Ah, I see. I can squeeze out an hour. Do you think that will be enough? I’d do more, but with harvest season, it’s difficult to get away for long.”
“I understand,” Sabine confirmed. “You forget, I’ve been around for many harvest seasons over the years. All of them, actually. So, I get it. And yes, an hour should be enough.”
Agreeing to meet her daughter mid-day, Marcheline hung up the phone. She leaned back in her chair, lost in thought.
There had been times as Sabine was growing up when Marcheline had worried she was spending too much time at work, like her own parents had. She had done her best to carve out time with her child, but the demands of growing a business had often meant that parenting took a backseat or that Marcheline was forced to burn the candle at both ends. There had been many days when she had gone home to eat dinner with young Sabine and tuck her into bed, then had stayed up late working until well after midnight only to rise again early the next morning and make her daughter breakfast before school.
Since it had been just the two of them, Marcheline had relied on friends who had become like family to fill in the gaps. A trusted sitter picked up any loose ends. But Marcheline had sometimes wondered how things would turn out for her daughter. She had feared Sabine might go looking for love and attention in the wrong places, much like Marcheline had done herself. She had wanted better for her child. She had focused as much energy as she possibly could on keeping Sabine from feeling lonely like she had. Thankfully, it appeared that Marcheline’s efforts had paid off, because not long after Sabine had finished her graphic design degree at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas and ventured into the professional world back home in Rosemary Run, she had chosen a life partner and father for her child who was upstanding and good.
Ryan Martin was a Sanford-trained architect who worked for a reputable local firm in town. His expertise was cutting edge. He focused on green design for structures that were environmentally friendly. He was still young, in his late twenties, but he had already established a reputation as a hard-working creative professional capable of handling both residential and commercial projects. Marcheline planned to have her son-in-law handle the remodel of the building slated to house a new wine store she aimed to open downtown. He had the chops. Marcheline knew she could count on him.
When Sabine met Ryan and learned that he came from a large family, it had made Marcheline feel relieved and happy. Ryan’s family had lived in Rosemary Run for three generations. He boasted four siblings, two sets of grandparents, several aunts and uncles, and a slew of cousins, nieces, and nephews, all living nearby. Ryan’s family was friendly and welcoming. They’d taken Sabine in as their own in the three years she and Ryan had been together, and Marcheline by extension. Sabine and Ryan were a happy couple. It was the best outcome Marcheline could have wished for her daughter. It was far better than what Marcheline had experienced as a young woman. She thought Sabine’s hard-earned happiness was what life should be about, really. To work hard and provide a better life for your child, so that the challenges you faced aren’t even on their radar. Marcheline only wished Sabine understood that better.
Lately, Sabine had been quick to criticize Marcheline’s decisions, and she seemed determined to dig up old skeletons from the past. Little did Sabine know, Marcheline would fight with everything in her to keep that history hidden. It was too dangerous to bring into the light. She told herself it would be easy to dissuade Sabine, just like it had been when she was a kid and she’d had her mind set on this or that. But deep down, Marcheline knew better. Sabine wanted answers. And she deserved them. Marcheline knew it would be a balancing act.
Brick House Cafe was bustling when Marcheline arrived and placed her hand on one of the large silver door handles out front. Pumpkins flanked the entrance while colorful mums sat in rustic metal pots nearby. The place looked festive. It was one of Marcheline’s favorite restaurants in town for a quick bite. The exposed-brick walls and city-village vibe had always appealed to her. The cafe had been built into the brick of a taller building and featured large windows around the front three sides. It reminded her a lot of the architecture back in Chicago.
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 that 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 me and Ryan 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 and 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.”