Paris Summer

by April Lynn Kihlstrom

  Janine stirred her coffee thoughtfully. “You weren’t planning to get married immediately, were you? Why not go to Nigeria and marry Rena when you get back?”

  “Won’t work!” Mark snapped. “Do you think I haven’t considered that? I’d be there at least a year, maybe two or three. Do you really think Rena would accept that? Or that I’d ask her to, knowing how she felt? Whatever you might think, I’m not a male chauvinist pig. A wife has a right to a voice in where she lives. Nor am I about to ask her to give up a career to follow me when I wouldn’t be willing to do the same for her. If it was my only job offer I might be justified, but it wasn’t. Besides, I told you, I like Switzerland.”

  Janine was silent. She wondered if Rena realized just how unusual a man she had found. And Janine had thought him unreasonably autocratic! Strong, yes. With a wall of apparent callousness to hide his vulnerability. But clearly not unreasonable. For the first time in her life, Janine found herself worrying, not about Rena, but about the man in Rena’s life. Mark’s voice cut across her thoughts. “If you’re worrying that Rena will walk all over me…don’t. I understand Rena. If she thinks she can get away with it, she’ll try to run everything, including me. But if she knows she can’t, Rena will be reasonable. Now. Tell me why you came to Paris.”

  Startled by the abrupt change of subject, Janine began to chatter. “Ever since I can remember I’ve wanted to come to Europe and especially Paris. Whenever I was unhappy I’d tell myself that someday I’d walk along the Seine and frequent small romantic cafes where a handsome young man would come and sit beside me. We’d talk and he’d see all the wonderful things about me that no one else ever had and…”

  “And you’d live happily ever after,” Mark finished for her.

  “Not always,” she said quietly. “Sometimes it seemed it would be enough if I could just be happy for a while. And sometimes, yes, we’d live happily ever after. Childish dreams, but that was only at first. Later it was the city itself that drew me: cobblestone streets and ancient churches; bookstalls and open air markets and, well, yes, always a sense of romance. Rena came here, and that was another reason to visit. Then, this spring, I found I had made a fool of myself over a man, a married man, and I needed to get away. Sol ran…to Paris.”

  Mark waited a moment, then said carefully, “Are you still running?”

  Janine opened her mouth to deny it, but found herself saying, “I don’t know.”

  To her dismay, Janine found herself on the verge of tears. She had calmly told Sandy it no longer mattered and had been sure it was the truth. So why, now, did she feel like this? Mark watched her, hesitating. Finally he said, “From him or from yourself?”

  Janine looked up, startled. After a moment her mouth twisted into a wry grin. “Me, of course. He doesn’t matter any more except as a reminder of my stupidity. I guess I’m still afraid of falling in love. But I want to. Maybe that’s what holds me back sometimes with Sandy.”

  “That or your common sense,” Mark muttered softly.

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing,” Mark lied. “Look,” he said urgently. “Will you promise me something? If Sandy asks you to marry him, will you talk to me before you give him an answer? Or at least with someone else who is also impartial?”

  Janine laughed. “I promise. But you’re really getting ahead of things, aren’t you? Sandy hasn’t asked me and I’m not at all sure he will. As I was telling myself this morning, Sandy is probably just amusing himself. You know, another female to add to his list. Maybe it will lead to something serious, but at the moment, I assure you, he’s not in love with me!”

  Mark fidgeted with his spoon. “Maybe. But he is serious about marrying you. I happen to know that he’s been told to find a wife and that he thinks you’re suitable.”

  Janine laughed again. “Suitable? What an awful way of putting it! Anyway, you shouldn’t listen to rumors. If that one were true I could be sure he wouldn’t ask me to marry him. No one could misunderstand me enough to think I’d be suitable by his father’s standards!”

  Mark frowned, started to speak, then changed his mind. He was grateful to see the waiter approaching with the check. Janine immediately leaned over to read the total. A moment later she handed Mark thirty francs, which was half. “You don’t have to, you know,” he said quietly.

  Janine snorted, “Since when do brothers take sisters out to dinner?”

  Mark laughed. “Touche. Shall we go over to Shakespeare and Company?” As she nodded, he added, “Don’t forget your package. Or your umbrella…just in case it rains and you see a likely looking male!”

  Janine wrinkled her nose at him. “And if not, I can use it to chastise an impudent brother!”

  Laughing, they left the restaurant with the waiter smiling after them. Mark was a frequent customer and it was nice to see him laughing for a change.

  Later, getting ready for bed, Janine thought back over the evening. What a strange dinner it had been! Leaving the restaurant, Janine had been worried about Mark and Rena. Then he had started saying, “Most people don’t understand Rena, you know. They see a lovely, spoiled child. Sometimes I do too, but there’s a lot more there. I can’t help seeing that she’s insecure; that she can never quite believe she’s really loved. Rena’s selfishness is a way of making sure no one can hurt her. And she needs security. It’s almost as if someone once hurt her badly and she’s afraid to trust anyone else. Once we’re married, she’ll have that security and she’ll open up, I think. Rena’s capable of an incredible amount of love if she can just let it out.”

  Janine had caught her breath. How astonishing to think of Rena as insecure! It was almost as if Mark knew about Alex, and that was strange too. Rena never talked to anyone about his disappearance. Mark was very perceptive, but Janine hoped he wasn’t counting on something in Rena that didn’t exist.

  Other than that, they hadn’t spoken much as they walked to the bookstore. Both had felt as though the evening had gotten out of hand; as though they had spoken thoughts they hadn’t felt ready to reveal. The joyful clutter of the bookshop had been a welcome sight, and they had separated to explore the dusty shelves. Much later, though it had only seemed a little while, Mark asked her if she was ready to leave. When she had nodded, Mark had told her it was almost midnight. He had laughed at the surprise evident on her face and said that Shakespeare and Company often did that to people.

  Mark had walked her back, explaining that the streets could be confusing late at night. It was chilly and he had lent her his jacket, which Janine had worn over her shoulders. They walked in a companionable silence and too soon, almost, they were at seventeen rue Bonaparte. Mark had left with a friendly wave and Janine had slowly climbed the five flights, suddenly feeling very tired. Propped against the door was an envelope with her name on it. From Sandy, she guessed and decided to wait until morning to read it. He was probably angry, and she felt incapable of coping with him tonight.

  Now it was one in the morning and the note still sat unread as Janine climbed into bed. She was just drifting off to sleep when the phone rang. “Blast it!” she murmured. “Let it ring!”

  After eight rings, however, the phone was still not quiet. Perhaps it was something important, Janine thought. Rena calling? Janine forced herself out of bed and into slippers and reached the phone while it was still ringing. “Allo?” she said.

  She heard a loud click and then silence. She shrugged; must have been a wrong number. Yawning, she hurried back to bed. She would probably sleep quite late tomorrow, but then, that’s what vacations were for, right?

  Ring-g-g. Ring-g-g. Janine heard the distant sound as it intruded into her dream. The phone. No, the door. Ring-g-g. It was more urgent now and Janine forced herself to get up. Sleepily she put on slippers and her sister’s long housecoat. “Attendez, attendez,” she called, wishing the jangling noise would stop.

  Janine opened the door, still half asleep. It was Sandy. He pushed his way into the apartment. “Are you all r
ight?” he asked anxiously.

  “Yes. Just tired. You woke me up.”

  “You must have gotten in pretty late, then!” he snapped. He changed his tone so quickly, however, that Janine wasn’t sure she had heard him correctly. “I called yesterday but you were out. I figured you had gone to a museum so I wasn’t worried. Then, over the evening news, I heard there had been a really bad smashup near the Louvre and that several people had been killed or injured. They said it was mostly tourists involved. I called to see if you were okay and no one answered. About ten P.M. I came over in case your phone wasn’t working. I waited a while and when you still didn’t come I left a note. Didn’t you get it?”

  Note? Janine thought a moment. Oh, yes, a note. Her eyes traveled to the refrigerator where the unopened envelope still sat. Sandy, following her eyes, saw it too. He brought it over to Janine. Silently she opened it.

  Jenny,

  Please call me the minute you get home. No matter how late it is. It’s important.

  Sandy

  Janine looked up at Sandy. “I’m sorry. I got home so late I didn’t even read it.”

  “Sorry!” Sandy exploded. “That’s just great! I’ve been awake all night worried about you because you were too tired to read a note and all you can say is sorry? Don’t you know I love you?”

  Guiltily, Janine avoided his eyes. “I guess I was afraid you were angry with me for slipping away yesterday and I was afraid you’d want me to call. I didn’t feel up to coping with that.”

  “Angry?” Sandy said incredulously. He sat on the couch beside Janine and took her hands. “Jenny, how could I be angry with you? Don’t you think I understand that sometimes you need a day by yourself? What sort of man do you think I am? I know you don’t feel the way I do yet, and honestly, kitten, I’m not trying to rush you.”

  “I was afraid you’d be angry that I spent the day with Mark,” Janine said anxiously.

  “Why?” Sandy prodded gently. “I admit I didn’t trust him at first, but you explained he really is stuck on Rena. Jenny, I want you to have male friends and I want you to be on good terms with your brother-inlaw. Honey, I’m not one of those guys who is always jealous. And even if it hadn’t been Mark, even if it had been a rival, I wouldn’t be angry. How could I be? I don’t have the right to tell you who you can or can’t see. I have no real right to be jealous. Not yet, anyway. I hope, of course, that one day you won’t want to see anyone else, but until then I’ll be patient.”

  Janine felt miserable. “I’m sorry, Sandy. I’m just not very sensible sometimes.”

  “Don’t worry about it, kitten,” Sandy said soothingly as he gently pulled her head to his shoulder. Stroking her hair he said, “I understand. I shouldn’t have sounded off like that. I was just so worried about you last night. I had to come over and see you were okay this morning.”

  Janine disentangled herself from his arms. “Would you like some coffee?”

  “No, I’ve got to run. Got some business to take care of for my father. I’m late as it is, but I had to stop by and see you.” Sandy hesitated. “Is it all right if I stop by at eight to take you out to dinner?”

  Seeing Sandy standing there looking so humble, Janine felt her eyes begin to fill. How could she deny him such a small request? “Of course,” she agreed.

  Sandy smiled and quickly, selfconsciously, kissed her on the cheek, then hurried out the door. He didn’t start whistling until after he had skipped down the steps and into the courtyard. Janine closed the door quietly, feeling slightly dazed. No, overwhelmed. That was the word she was looking for. Suddenly she laughed. Everything seemed wonderful. Wait until Mark heard about this! It would show him how much he had misjudged Sandy! Feeling very contented, Janine dressed quickly, eager to be outside.

  The weeks began to fall into a pattern. Almost every day, except Tuesday and Sunday, Janine would see Sandy. Sometimes they went out with Alan and Betty, more often they were alone. Sundays Janine would spend the day in museums with Mark as her companion and occasionally her guide. Afterward they would go to Rena’s apartment or his for dinner, taking turns with the cooking. Mark was an excellent cook, which always reminded Janine that her sister was a fortunate woman. On Tuesdays she would go to the Faculte des Sciences at Jussieu for the math seminar. It became a habit, after these seminars, to stop by Mark’s office to chat for a half hour or so before returning to the apartment. Occasionally Janine had the evening to herself, more often Sandy stopped by after dinner.

  “You might try listening then!” Janine exclaimed sarcastically.

  Her hands were on her hips and her face was flushed with anger. Mark flung down his piece of chalk and was about to answer when the door opened. Pierre poked his head in and said apologetically, “I tried knocking but you didn’t hear me. I was curious. I could hear the two of you all the way down the hall.”

  Mark flushed. In a calm voice he said, “It’s nothing. Mademoiselle Halonen just won’t listen to something I’m trying to explain.”

  “I won’t listen?” Janine demanded hotly but quietly, “You won’t listen! Just because you’ve got a Ph.D. and I’ve only got an M.S. you assume you must be right and I must be wrong. I’m sorry but I don’t have such faith in your infallibility. Good day!”

  Janine grabbed her purse, raincoat, and umbrella and swept past Pierre. Behind her she could hear him saying to Mark, “Elle a plutot /‘air fachel”

  Yes, I’m angry! Janine addressed Pierre silently as she marched swiftly down the dungeon-like corridor. Conceited pig! I notice you take his side. Just like a man!

  Students moved out of Janine’s way as she clattered down the stairs and out into the open air. In spite of the rain, Janine decided to walk back to the apartment. In her present mood, she knew, she was incapable of being cooped up in a crowded subway train. Besides, walking back would insure no one-Sandy especially-could contact her for a good forty-five minutes. And Janine knew that anyone who tried to talk to her now would get his or her head bitten off. Darn the man, anyway! Why did he have to be so rude?

  It had all started calmly enough. She had stopped by Mark’s office, as usual, after Pierre’s talk. They had chatted for a bit, then Mark had asked a few questions about the seminar. Janine had done her best, but he had obviously not tried to follow her explanation. How else could he have failed to understand the clear, simple proofs she had used? Then he had tried to snow her by drawing all sorts of improbable pictures on the board. By that time, Mark had become rather sarcastic. Then, when she failed to immediately grasp his ideas, he had lost his temper. Janine had responded in kind and soon they had been yelling. Thank goodness Pierre had stopped by. By the time he came, however, she wouldn’t have admitted she was wrong even if she had been. Which she wasn’t. “I’m glad you’re not a mathematician, Sandy,” she muttered fervently. “I’ll never marry a mathematician!”

  As she marched rapidly westward, Janine realized she would reach the apartment much too soon. She forced herself to stop at a small cafe and order a cup of tea. As the soothing liquid warmed her throat, Janine began to relax. What, after all, was she so upset about? A moment later she was giggling. Poor Mark. She wondered if he knew. Toward the end of the fight, she had begun to realize that they were probably trying to say the same thing, just in different ways. Had he seen it too? While she approached math verbally, Mark grasped things visually. They were each incapable of following the other approach with ease. Janine giggled again. How ironic that they should have argued so hotly for the same side!

  Calmer, Janine opened her purse and pulled out Rena’s letter. It had arrived that morning and seemed a bit strange. For one thing, there was no return address and the letter was undated. Both omissions were unusual for Rena.

  Hi Sis!

  How is Paris? How about Sandy? Are you engaged yet? Mom says to tell you not to limit yourself to just him. What does she know? (Picked up her letter at American Express in Geneva just before I left. I think she’s guessed about Mark. Can’t tell if
she’s pleased or not.)

  Lausanne is lovely. Will be delayed getting back to Paris. If you leave Paris before I get there, please leave the keys with the concierge. She’s a dear.

  A bientot, Rena

  How did Mom know about Sandy? Janine wondered. And why was Rena in Lausanne? The article for Mademoiselle was supposed to be all about Geneva. And why wasn’t the letter postmarked even from Lausanne? Above all, why had it taken Rena so long to write? Unlike Janine, she was usually a good correspondent. Janine had asked Mark a week before if he had heard from Rena. He had said yes with such bad grace that Janine hadn’t dared ask to see the letter. Well, maybe she just felt she needed a vacation.

  Traveling. That was something Janine should think about doing. And soon if she wanted to have time to visit many other countries before it was time to go back to New York. But it was hard to tear herself away from Paris. With a sigh, Janine tucked the letter back into her purse and gathered up her things. The rain had stopped and she still had some marketing to do. She was unaware of the attractive picture she made as she walked down the street. Her blonde hair bounced around her shoulders and her long shapely legs moved gracefully below the summery print dress that drew attention to her curves. Instead, she was thinking about Sandy and how attentive he had been the last few weeks. He was always ready to go somewhere with her if she asked. And once he had realized how strongly she felt, Sandy let Janine choose less expensive restaurants. Alan said that Sandy even was visiting museums on his own because he wanted to share her interests. From time to time, he hinted he was hoping to marry her, but he was never pushy about it.