Sandy was waiting at the foot of the stairs when Janine got home. He took the groceries from her as he kissed her. “Hi, kitten. How was the math?”
Janine made a face. “Fine. Until I got in a fight with Mark about it.”
Sandy shook his head as he started up the stairs. “You take this stuff too seriously. How come you were so late?”
Janine waited until she had unlocked the door to answer. “I walked back to cool off,” she said. “Then I stopped for some tea and forgot the time because I was thinking about Rena. I got a letter from her and something seems odd about it.”
“Let me read it,” Sandy suggested as he hung up Janine’s raincoat. “While I’m reading it you can make yourself some more tea. You look like you really need it.
She agreed, though somewhat reluctantly, and handed him the letter. A few minutes later, Sandy regarded her carefully over the top of his teacup. “I think you’re worrying about nothing, kitten. Sounds like Rena is having a ball and begrudges the time to write a letter.”
“Why no return address?” Janine demanded.
“Probably doesn’t want her jealous boy friend coming out and spoiling her fun.” Sandy shrugged.
“Sandy.” Janine gasped, setting down her cup. “They’re engaged!”
“That’s what I mean. Rena probably wants a chance to kick up her heels before she settles down with Mark. He is a bit stuffy, you know. It’s all perfectly natural.”
Janine sat silently staring at her tea. Then she slowly nodded. “It’s possible,” she conceded. Then she smiled. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”
Sandy grinned. “Why else do you think I’m here?”
Janine took the empty teacups to the kitchen. Why does he always make me feel as though he’s conferring a favor on me by letting me fix dinner for him? Janine thought irritably.
It was after eleven P.M.Janine had long since forgotten her irritation. She sat on the daybed with a pillow between her back and the wall. Sandy was sprawled out, his head in her lap. She was gently stroking his hair. Her eyes were closed and in the silence Janine felt completely at ease. Sandy’s voice abruptly pulled her back into the present. “Do you know,” he said, “you’ve never told me you love me.”
Janine flushed and tried to answer but her voice stammered, “I-I, you know I’m f-fond of you-”
Sandy sighed. “I know. But you’re not sure you love me, right? And you’re worried about it. Especially because I’ve told you I love you. The trouble is, Jenny, you just don’t understand love. You think that if you fell in love bells and whistles would go off. Well, it’s not like that. I’ve been in love several times before and I know. There are no bells and whistles. You just start feeling close to the person and wanting to be with them. And the person begins to matter an awful lot to you. That’s what love is. If you wait for bells and whistles you’ll never be happy. Love and marriage are what you make them.”
Janine was silent, feeling confused and lonely. Was it true? Had she been living in a dream world, expecting bells and whistles that would never, could never, come?
Sandy watched Janine closely and when he saw her about to cry he pulled her head down to his and kissed her gently. “Hush,” Sandy said as he moved his hand from her neck to her cheek. “Don’t rush it. I can wait. I love you.”
“Oh, Sandy, I feel so…so…” Janine whispered.
“Don’t, Jenny,” Sandy said, distressed. Suddenly he grinned. “You don’t want Ralph to see you crying!”
Janine choked and started laughing in spite of herself
“That’s better,” Sandy said. “You know what you need?” He sat up. “A beignet.”
“A beignet?” Janine asked skeptically. “Isn’t it a little late for beignets?”
Sandy glanced at his watch. “Nope. It’s only eleventhirty. If we hurry we can make it to St. Michel before the pastry shops close. C’mon, let’s go.”
Janine laughed. “All right. Is it raining?”
Sandy looked out. “No, it’s clear out now. Just grab a sweater.”
A few minutes later they were in the street with Sandy urging Janine to hurry. Gasping slightly, they reached St. Michel just in time. They sat on a doorstep to eat the hot, sticky, sweet beignets. The night was cool but pleasant, and Janine had to admit that the prescription had worked. She felt herself wishing the evening could go on forever.
They walked back to rue Bonaparte slowly as though neither wanted the happy mood to end. But finally they were there. “I’ll say good night here, Jenny,” Sandy said quietly. “You look like you need some sleep.”
She nodded. “I am pretty tired,” she confessed.
Sandy kissed her. Then, still holding her, he said, “Jenny, please think about what I said. About love, I mean. I want you to be happy.”
Without quite knowing why, Janine pulled herself free from Sandy and fled up the stairs. After a moment, Sandy shrugged. Jenny was a sensible girl. She would come around. Whistling softly, Sandy turned and headed for Alan’s apartment. Good old Alan. Wonder if he feels like a game of poker?
Janine was up but still feeling rather sleepy when the phone rang the next morning. “Allo?” she said.
“Janine? C’est moi, Helene” the voice on the phone said cheerfully. “Comment ca va?”
“Ca va bien, “Janine replied. “Et vows?I mean toi?”
Helene laughed and switched to English. “You sound sleepy. Are you?”
“A little. Sandy was over yesterday evening and after he left it took me a long time to fall asleep.” Janine forced herself awake. “I’m glad you called. I wanted to invite you to dinner here at Rena’s apartment sometime this week or next.”
“I’d enjoy that,” Helene said sincerely. “Would you mind if Jacques joined us? You see, the reason I called is that Jacques has three tickets to a performance by Marcel Marceau this Saturday. I thought you might like to go with us. If you don’t mind, we could have dinner with you first. Though it would mean eating rather early…say by six o’clock.”
It was Janine’s turn to laugh. “By American standards,” she said, “that’s not early at all. Of course Jacques can join us for dinner. I’d be delighted to see him again. And Marcel Marceau sounds great.”
“Good,” Helene answered. “Then we shall see you Saturday at six o’clock or five-thirty. Au revoir”
“Au revoir,” Janine replied.
As she set down the phone, Janine was conscious of a growing sense of excitement. What should she serve Saturday night? Nothing French, that was certain! Happily Janine planned a menu and made up a shopping list, forgetting about her own breakfast. She was thus engaged when the phone rang. “Allo?” she said.
“Morning, Jenny,” Sandy answered cheerfully. “How’s my kitten this morning?”
“Fine. And you?”
“I’m always okay,” he replied. He sounded excited as he said, “Guess what, I’ve got a surprise for you!”
“Oh?”
“I’ve arranged for us to go out to Versailles Saturday. You, me, Betty, and Alan. We’ll take Alan’s car and go for the whole day. We’ll even have a picnic. How does that sound?”
“Great! Only…” Janine’s voice faltered.
“Only what?” Sandy growled.
“Only I can’t,” Janine finished.
“Why not?” Sandy demanded. “I thought this was the sort of thing you liked. I went to a lot of trouble to arrange it.”
“I appreciate that. But I’ve already made other plans for Saturday. I’m having Helene over for dinner.”
“Oh, well, we can be back by five o’clock and you’ll have plenty of time to fix dinner. The French don’t mind eating late anyway,” Sandy said.
“Dinner is set for six o’clock,” Janine said firmly, and I’ll need a couple of hours to do the cooking.”
“All right, all right,” Sandy grumbled. “We’ll go another time. Do I have to dress up for dinner with Helene?”
“Sandy,” Janine said gently, “yo
u’re not invited. I mean, we’ll be talking in French and you don’t know much French.”
“Doesn’t she know English?” he demanded. “I thought you said she did.”
“Yes, but Jacques doesn’t,” Janine replied without thinking.
“Who is Jacques?”
“Helene’s brother,” she said with a sinking feeling.
“All right. Then I’ll drop by after dinner,” Sandy said grimly. “Or can’t I do that, either?”
“Well, no, you can’t,” Janine said unhappily. “After dinner the three of us are going out. To a performance by Marcel Marceau.”
As Sandy swore quietly, Janine anxiously said, “Sandy, please, don’t be angry. I mean, they are my friends. And I see you all the time.”
“I’m not angry,” he said easily, with an abrupt change of tone, “and I do understand. I was just, uh, just swearing over the fact that I don’t know more French. Marcel Marceau, you said? Saturday evening`? Well, I hope you have a nice time. I really do. Give Helene and her brother my regards. We can go to Versailles another time. I’ll be seeing you. ‘Bye, Jenny.”
Janine barely had time to say good-bye before Sandy hung up. A moment later she realized that Sandy had said nothing about seeing her today. And, she realized, she rather enjoyed the thought of a day to herself. Eagerly Janine made herself coffee as she thought about what she wanted to do. Well, she hadn’t really had much chance to go shopping since her arrival in Paris and her budget would surely stretch for a new outfit.
A few minutes later, a confident, smiling young woman boarded a bus headed for the department stores.
Janine came awake slowly. She knew there was something she was supposed to do today, but at the moment she couldn’t remember what it was. Oh, yes. Helene and Jacques were coming over for dinner. Janine pushed aside the light blanket and climbed out of bed. First a quick shower, then shopping, then clean up the apartment. She had meant to do most of that yesterday but Sandy had come over and, well, she couldn’t very well ignore him. Besides, he was being so sweet about this evening. He hadn’t said another word about it except to tell her again to have a good time. And for Sandy, that was saying a lot.
Dear Sandy! Janine thought as she dressed. He was trying so hard to make her happy. He really seemed to be in love. Janine felt a pang of guilt. It wasn’t fair to Sandy for her to be so uncertain about how she felt. Maybe he was right; maybe she expected too much from love. It all comes from reading fairy tales as a little girl, Janine told herself. And you’re certainly no princess, though as Mark says, Sandy would almost make you one, if you married him.
With a sigh, Janine stepped into her sandals. Soon Sandy would ask her for some kind of commitment and she just wasn’t ready. She wished she could talk to her father, but she knew instinctively that her father would dislike the young man. Besides, he still thought of her as a little girl, much too young to think about getting married. He would probably say that if you had to ask, the answer should be no.
Outside the sky was clear and there was a light breeze. A perfect day, Janine told herself as she walked to the market. The street was crowded as usual and up and down the street merchants were shouting out the prices of their produce. Janine moved from shop to shop choosing what she needed, feeling very content. Once she paused to wonder whether Sandy was enjoying the day at Versailles, then resolutely thrust him out of her mind for the day.
While not precisely efficient, Janine was sufficiently well organized that by the time the doorbell rang that evening, she was dressed and the food was almost ready. The next few moments were full of confusion. Helene hugged Janine and Jacques shook her hand as he presented her with a bouquet of flowers. At the same time, Janine invited them in and thanked them for coming to dinner, then asked their help in finding a vase for the flowers. As she arranged the flowers in water, Janine said, “One of the nice things about France is that people understand about flowers. Do you know, this is the first time anyone ever gave me flowers?”
“But that is terrible!” Jacques protested.
“In the United States, Jacques, men do not often give flowers to women,” Helene said. Then she said to Janine, “Your French is improving.”
“Barbarous!” Jacques murmured.
Janine smiled. “Would you like an aperitif? I have some St. Raphael.”
“You know St. Raphael?” Jacques asked with some surprise.
Janine laughed. “We are not all barbarians. Some of us do appreciate good wine, cheese, coffee, and flowers.”
Helene said something in rapid French to her brother. Then she turned to Janine. “Yes, we should like a little St. Raphael. How is Rena? Do you hear from her often?”
Janine poured the aperitif before answering. “Bonne sante! I’ve only received one letter from Rena since she left. It was a little strange. A moment, I’ll show you the letter.”
Helene smiled slightly as Janine’s tongue tripped over the unfamiliar syllables. She was serious, however, as she handed the letter back to Janine after reading it. “It does seem odd to me. She told me she would be gone two or three weeks. It is much longer than that already and still she does not know when she will return.”
Janine nodded. “I do not understand. But at least she seems well, and she will think me foolish for being anxious. She has often told me I am her sister, not her mother.”
Jacques snorted, “For me, I think you have no need to worry. Rena knows what she does. She is not a fool.”
Helene and Janine exchanged glances, then shrugged. Janine went into the kitchen to check the food. Though Jacques’s tone annoyed her, she had to admit he was probably right. She sighed. She was just a born worrier. And after all, Rena had never been in any trouble she couldn’t handle before.
Reassured, Janine returned to the living room carrying a bottle of wine and a corkscrew. Offering them to Jacques, she said, “Could you open this for me? Thanks.”
A little later, as they sat down to eat, Janine was pleased to see that everything was in order.
After complimenting Janine on the food, Helene said, “You must tell us how you have been and what you have been doing since we last saw you.”
Janine answered slowly, frequently searching her mind for the correct word in French. She explained that she had been visiting museums, parks, cinemas, and restaurants, as well as seeing friends.
“You have other friends in Paris?” Jacques asked.
Janine smiled. “American friends. First, there is Rena’s fiance, Mark. He goes with me to museums every Sunday and we usually have dinner here or at his place. And I often see him on Tuesdays when I go to the math seminar at Jussieu.”
“But”-Helene looked shocked-“but… he is Rena’s fiance!”
For a moment Janine was puzzled. Then she laughed. “No, no, you do not understand. He is like a brother! Rena asked him to look after me while she was gone. That’s all.”
“Nevertheless,” Helene said anxiously, “be careful. Rena is very jealous and also, I often think this thing is fragile between them.”
“But I thought you did not like to see Mark and Rena engaged,” Janine teased.
Helene sighed. “It is true. He would suit someone like you much better. This worries me….1 am afraid you and he will fall in love and Rena will be unhappy and this will make you unhappy.”
Janine laughed again. “Don’t worry! I tell you that we both know we only want a brother/sister relationship. Anything else would be a disaster! He doesn’t even attract me; half the time I want to hit him.”
Jacques spoke quietly, “It is never good to be so certain about not loving someone.”
Janine frowned and spoke defiantly, “Well, I am certain.”
Embarrassed, Helene said hurriedly, “Who else do you know in Paris?”
“Well, Rena’s friend Alan and his girl friend, Betty,” Janine replied, relieved to have the topic changed. “Also, of course, Sandy. He often comes to see me and we go to restaurants, movies, and other places together.”
Helene raised an eyebrow. “He is perhaps more than just a friend, no?”
Janine nodded reluctantly. Somehow she did not want to discuss Sandy in front of Jacques, which was ridiculous. What possible difference could it make if he knew about Sandy? She forced herself to answer. “Yes, he is much more than just a friend. He wishes to marry me.
“But that is wonderful!” Helene exclaimed. “Tell us about him.”
“Well, he is handsome. He comes from Chicago and his family is very wealthy. He is very nice and he loves children. He is intelligent and will one day have his father’s business,” she concluded.
“You must not marry this man,” Jacques said quietly.
“Jacques!” Helene protested.
“It is true,” he insisted. “She does not love him. One can see this on her face.”
“You are such an expert on these things?” Helene demanded sarcastically.
“No, but with Janine this is clear,” Jacques said stubbornly.
Janine sat quietly, feeling ill. She could not refute Jacques although she wanted very much to be able to. Surely it was too soon to be sure whether she could love Sandy or not`? Helene was speaking, “…very sorry. My brother does not know his place. We will speak of other things. Have you seen the pare des ButtesChaumont?”
The discussion was kept to such safe topics for the rest of dinner. Even in the car going to the Comedic des Champs Elysees, they were careful and only discussed the coming performance. “You know Marcel Marceau?” Jacques asked as he stopped at a traffic light.
“Oh, yes,” Janine replied. “He has sometimes appeared on American television. But I have never seen him perform on stage.”
“It is much better,” Jacques said confidently. “You will enjoy this, I believe.”
Janine nodded, watching for the theater. They were arriving a little early since Jacques wanted to have time to find a place to park the car. Luck was with them and, with time to spare, they entered the lobby of the theater.
“Janine!” a voice called out.
Helene, Jacques, and Janine turned. “Sandy!” Janine said in amazement. “What are you doing here?”
Paris Summer Page 10