by Kelly Utt
She hadn’t done it often, because she didn’t want to leave any trace of who she was communicating with. But every once in a while, Marcheline had driven out of town and gone into a public library where she could search for Guillermo and keep tabs on his whereabouts without being detected. The last she had seen, he was a professor of Computer Science at the University of Arizona in Tucson. Marcheline knew she could count on his help. She didn’t plan to alert him that she was on her way, out of an abundance of caution. She knew that when she showed up on his door, he would take her, Sabine, and Amelie in until they could find more permanent living quarters.
Marcheline kept moving, making her way several hundred miles south on I-5 before getting something to eat. She wanted to reach Kingman before stopping for the night because she was eager to switch vehicles. It was almost a ten-hour drive from Rosemary Run, not counting stops. She wasn’t sure what kind of hours Carl kept, but she wanted to make herself available to him just as soon as humanly possible. The slightest delay could make all the difference in whether they were able to get away safely.
Sabine kept Amelie entertained so they could stay on the road, climbing in the backseat to nurse her and change her diaper right in her car seat. For her part, Amelie was a perfect sweetheart. It was almost as if she knew how important it was that they get away and keep moving.
“Mom?” Sabine began, as she climbed back into the front seat after a feeding session. “I’ve waited patiently for hours now. It’s time for some answers. Do I need to remind you just how much this is costing me?”
Marcheline started to put her daughter off, as that was her habit. She had become good at avoiding difficult topics and dodging uncomfortable conversations. But she knew Sabine deserved better.
“Fine,” Marcheline said. “We’ll talk while we drive. We have hours left to go and we might as well do something to pass the time.”
“Finally!” Sabine exclaimed. “Thank you. Now, what in the hell is going on?”
“That’s a big question with a complicated answer,” Marcheline replied. “But I’ll do my best to start at the beginning.”
“At the beginning, meaning with who my father is?” Sabine tried. “I’ve been asking that question damn near all my life. I would love an answer. Would absolutely love it.”
“My darling, it’s complicated.” Marcheline took a few deep breaths to steady herself before continuing. She wanted to be strong and hated to admit it, but talk of Sabine’s conception made her feel like a vulnerable nineteen-year-old girl all over again. It made her feel helpless and alone, her parents too buried in work and oblivious to what their daughter was going through. “The first thing I’m going to tell you may come as a shock. Try to prepare yourself.”
“Okay…” Sabine replied. “I’m not sure how much more of a shock I could receive at this point.”
“More shock is always possible, believe me,” Marcheline said.
“Okay. Well?”
“There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to come right out and do it.” Marcheline looked straight ahead she said spoke, afraid to make eye contact. “My real name is not Marcheline Fay.”
“What? You must be kidding.”
“Unfortunately, I’m not,” Marcheline replied. “My real name is Leena. And I have parents. We are from Paris.”
“You mean your parents are still alive?”
“Yes, they are,” Marcheline confirmed. “At least, as far as I know. I try to search for them on the Internet from time to time. As far as I can tell, they’re alive and well in Evanston, Illinois, a suburb just north of Chicago where I grew up.”
“And you haven’t had contact with them?”
“Not since the day I left, twenty-six years ago.”
Sabine was silent for a moment as she tried to process the information. “That means my last name isn’t really Fay. And here I thought I was keeping my name when I married Ryan and didn’t take his. That was all a crock of shit. All those hours debating about keeping my identity intact and what that would mean as an example for Amelie. And here my last name isn’t even my own last name. How could you let me go through that?”
“I had to change my identity to keep us safe,” Marcheline insisted. “I swear, Sabine. I didn’t have any other choice. But I took great care in choosing your name. Sabine is after a great-aunt back in Paris who was very special to me. We left Paris when I was a toddler, but I still have memories of Aunt Sabine. I named you after her. And Fay, well it was my paternal grandmother’s maiden name. I figured it was far enough in the distant past that no one would connect us. But it still allowed me to hold on to a tie to our roots. Please, go easy on me. I gave you the very best name that I could under the circumstances. It’s one that meant a great deal to me.”
“Maybe I could manage to go easy on you if you’d tell me what made you do it,” Sabine asked. Her voice was faltering. She seemed to teeter between compassion and anger.
“My darling,” Marcheline began again. “It’s okay to be angry at me. I would be, too, if I were in your position. I’m angry at myself. I’m angry at the situation. It’s all very sad and frustrating. I just ask that you be respectful and try to consider my position. To consider what I went through.”
“Okay, tell me about it,” Sabine prompted.
“I never wanted to leave my parents. They were good to me and like I said, I loved them very much. They worked a lot because they owned a French bakery in town and it took up most of their time. But I knew they were doing it for me. They wanted me to have a better life. The same as I wanted for you. Times were tough back in Paris. There was little money to go around and we lived in a small flat without room to stretch. When we came to America, we had a house with a yard. I had a good school to attend. And we had enough money to be comfortable with financial security. That was something my parents didn’t think they could ever achieve back home.”
“If it was that good and you were close to your parents, how could you leave them? Where do they think you went? You just… Disappeared?”
“I called them from a payphone the night I was leaving and I told him I had to go away. I let them know that I loved them, but that I didn’t have a choice. I’m sure they were heartbroken, same as me. But at least they know I chose to go. I hope they know that they raised me well enough that I could take care of myself. They’re the ones who instilled a strong work ethic in me. It’s because of Mom and Dad that I’ve been able to build Maison du Vin into what it is today. Even as a young woman, it was because of Mom and Dad that I was able to complete college with good grades, all while being a single mother. If I’d been raised by different parents, I might not have had the fortitude.”
Marcheline gripped the steering wheel tightly as she drove and talked.
“What were their names?” Sabine asked. “What is our real last name?”
“Sabine, I hope it goes without saying, but once I tell you this information, and once I tell you these names, you can’t repeat them to anyone. You can’t even communicate them to Ryan until we’re sure he’s not being followed or monitored. I mean it. This is life and death. What I’m about to tell you doesn’t leave the confines of this vehicle until I say so, and then it’s only to be shared with Ryan. Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
“My last name is Bisset. My parents are Jean-Claude and Francine Bisset.”
“Wow,” Sabine replied. “Sabine Bisset. I’m not sure what I was expecting. This day feels foreign and strange. I’ve always liked Fay. But I like the idea of having a real name with more tangible roots. I’ve longed for grandparents. You have no idea how much. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings because I’ve always known you did the best you could for me, but it means so much to know that I actually have more family out there.”
“I can imagine,” Marcheline added. “I never wanted to deprive you of that. It’s made me sad every day.”
“Do you have brothers or sisters? Do I have aunts or uncles? Oh! An
d cousins? Does Amelie have cousins? Do I?”
“No, I don’t have any siblings. My parents moved over from France when I was young and I think they were too busy building their business to think about giving me a brother or sister. Sometimes I wished for a playmate when I was young. But it was all I knew and so I didn’t spend much time back then thinking about how it might have been different.” Marcheline continued to grip the steering wheel. She knew the hard questions were yet to come. “As for you, no living siblings. You know that. If I had a child out there, I’d move heaven and earth to keep them with me. The same as I did for you. The same as I’m doing for you right this very moment.”
“I believe you, Mom,” Sabine confirmed. “You’re a good mom to me. Please don’t ever doubt that.” Sabine reached up and placed one hand gently on her mother’s shoulder, then let it rest there. “Go on.”
“The rest of the story gets harder to tell,” Marcheline explained. “It’s an ugly part of my history that I don’t like to think about, much less talk about.”
“Mom, it’s okay. Go on. I can handle it. And besides, I’m here to support you. I’ll help you through whatever it is we have to face together.”
“Oh, my darling, those words are music to my ears,” Marcheline confirmed. “I appreciate them.” She took a deep breath. “Okay, so, I was a lonely teenager who felt out of place. My dark skin, curly hair, and French accent weren’t the norm in Evanston. They certainly weren’t the norm at my school, which was comprised of affluent kids who were mostly white. With my parents at work so much, I grew restless. A lot happened, but I ended up getting involved with a boy named Chester who lived across the city line. He lived in a rough part of town and was involved in some shady things. He was fundamentally a good guy, but he wasn’t able to escape the perils of the low-income, crime infested neighborhood that surrounded him. Mom told me never to associate with anyone like him, so doing so felt risky and dangerous. I guess I wanted a little excitement in my life. Either that or I wanted to numb my pain. I’m not sure which motivation was the one that compelled me. Maybe both. I started hanging out with Chester after school when my parents didn’t know. They thought I was at home doing homework like a good little girl, but instead, I was riding around in the passenger seat of Chester’s Cadillac, a car he had purchased with drug money.”
“Mom!” Sabine said. “I never would have pictured that.”
“Me neither,” Marcheline said, somberly. “I took a bad turn, to put it mildly.”
“Is Chester the C.M. Loor the letter was addressed to?”
“Yes,” Marcheline confirmed. “How long ago did you mail that letter, anyway?”
“It was one day last week,” Sabine replied. “I don’t remember exactly. Why? What’s the big deal?”
“It’s a huge deal. But ultimately, I take responsibility for writing the letter and for not destroying it. I wish you hadn’t gone through my things. I really wish you hadn’t mailed that letter without my permission. Who does that, Sabine?”
“I’m sorry, Mom. I really am. I was just so eager to find out about my father. I was looking through your things in the attic in the hopes of finding some evidence with his name on it. I’d asked you so many times and you refused to tell me anything, so I decided to take matters into my own hands, like I told you at lunch today.”
“If we weren’t in such a mess, I’d admire your determination,” Marcheline said. “But yes, that’s my Chester. His dad received the letter, and I got a call at my office this afternoon from a private investigator hired by the family.”
“What?” Sabine asked. “Why does a private investigator need to get involved over a letter? What in the world did it say, Mom?”
“I never should have written it. I certainly never should have kept it. Maybe I could have written it and then burned it or something, I don’t know. But I wrote it… To apologize.”
“Because Chester is my father, and you took me away from him?”
“I wish it were that simple,” Marcheline explained. “I swear, Sabine. I truly wish it were that simple.”
“Mom!” Sabine exclaimed, exasperated. “Why is it like pulling teeth to get this story out of you? Won’t you just tell me? Just, spit it out. What’s the worst that can happen?”
“You have no idea.”
Amelie cooed happily in the backseat as she chewed on a teething ring. The sun was setting over the mountains and they were getting hungry for more to eat.
“Why don’t we continue this conversation after some dinner?” Marcheline asked. “I think it would be easier if my stomach weren’t growling. How about we stop for fast food? We’ll run in and out quickly, then eat in the car. It will be just enough time to stretch our legs, but hopefully, we won’t be there long enough to be caught on camera.”
“Unbelievable,” Sabine murdered. Marcheline wondered why she felt the need to use that word twice in one day. It felt particularly cool and dismissive.
“Come on, my darling. We’ve got to eat,” Marcheline said as she veered off an exit and peered forward over the steering wheel as she selected from the handful of fast food options. “What do you want? Chicken? Burgers?”
“I really don’t care, Mom,” Sabine replied begrudgingly. “You choose. Like you’ve done for me my entire life.”
12
——
A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
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A note from Author Kelly Utt
Did you enjoy this book? You can make a big difference.
Reviews are the most powerful tools in my arsenal when it comes to getting attention for my books. As much as I’d like to, I don’t have the financial muscle of a New York publisher. I can’t take out full page ads in the newspaper or put posters on the subway.
(Not yet, anyway.)
But I do have something much more effective than that, and it’s something that those publishers would kill to get their hands on.
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Honest reviews of my books help bring them to the attention of other readers.
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About the Author
Standards of Starlight Books
Kelly Utt
Kelly Utt writes emotional novels for readers who enjoy both suspense and sentimentality. She was born in Youngstown, Ohio in 1976.
Kelly grew up with a dad who would read a book on a weighty topic, ask her to read it, too, and then insist they discuss it together, igniting her passion for life's big questions. That passion is often reflected inKelly's novels, giving them a depth which leaves readers wanting more and thinking about her stories long after the last lines are read.
Kelly holds a Bachelor’s degree in psychology from the University of Tennessee, Knoxville and she studied graduate-level interactive media at Quinnipiac University.
She lives in the Nashville suburb of Franklin,Tennessee with her husband and sons.
www.kellyutt.com
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Her Boldest Lie
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