Brian wiped my eyes. Then he spoke in monotone. “You look much better today. Your face has better color. It felt like you were away somewhere while you slept. You look different now.” He paused. “The doctor told me to talk to you while you slept. He said that a familiar voice and touch could be helpful in waking up a patient. I said many things while you were sleeping. I mean, I had a lot of time here, sitting in this quiet space. Mostly I was talking to try to wake you up. I held your hand a lot, and stroked your head. I told you that I want to be with you. You need to give me a second chance, Dee. Um, we can talk about that later. You probably didn’t even hear what I said. Forget about it.” He paused again. “I love you, Dee.” Brian’s voice was matter of fact.
For a moment, I was relieved that I couldn’t move or respond. I didn’t know how I was supposed to answer Brian. I didn’t know what kind of relationship I had with Brian previous to now, but I didn’t feel emotions for him at that moment. As I lay immobile, I felt grateful that he was beside me and relieved to hear a voice of someone who knew me. A sense of safety came with him watching over me. Perhaps I used to love Brian; I didn’t know. Why did his words cause me to feel afraid and defensive? If I could have spoken right then, I’m sure the wrong words would have blurted out. The silence was my friend.
My life was coming to me in tiny, quick flashes. I saw my daughters, son-in-laws, house and the street where I walked down to the lake. It didn’t feel all connected and it seemed a distance away, as if I was watching a movie trailer. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.
Paris rushed into my mind. I saw my home in Paris, my mother and father. I felt Andre presence like a coiled snake around my neck. Jean-Paul’s eyes were the clearest image I could visualize. Comfort wrapped me up as I focused on those beautiful eyes.
“Time to check yous blood pressure,” another voice said. My arm was lifted and wrapped with a cool, vinyl cuff. She started to pump it with air and it tightened. While she held my arm, a sick feel rushed over my body, beginning at my center and spreading out to each limb. Muscles tightened in my face spontaneously and I thought I might cry. A sharp pain started in my head, mild at first, then gradually it got worse. Suddenly I was in terrible pain. “Nnnnnnnn!!!!”
“What’s wrong Dee?”
My body started to shake, in a full body spasm. The shaking became more violent. Suddenly I was choking.
“Nurse!!! Help her. Something’s wrong. Hurry!”
A steel object was forced into my mouth. My body kept shaking. Brian was shouting. Others were calling for a doctor.
My mind retreated to some dark corner where sound doesn’t exist and light is absent. Body sensations faded, replaced by calmness. And then….there was nothing.
***
Chapter Eleven: New Perspective
Atlantic Ocean, Late March, 1899
Elisabeth walked away, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Fears of Andre finding me consumed my mind. I couldn’t be certain if he was on board or not, spying in silence to learn my plans. Although I’d not seen him present, he may have been among the hundreds of people onboard. If his informant knew all of my plans, Andre could be following me straight to Jean-Paul. There was no way to be certain, and I couldn’t relax until I knew I was safe from his reach.
Andre had not materialized, so I ventured more often to the deck for air and sun. Early on the sixth day of my journey, I stood at the balcony and stared beyond the ship at the vast sea. A flat, one dimensional horizon met my gaze without variation. Boats, whales and floating debris were absent. Nothing broke the monotony of the solid spread of water reaching to the edge of the horizon.
Halfway through the morning, as I stood staring mindlessly, Elisabeth bounced over to me with bubbly enthusiasm. “One more day, one more day, one more day!” she announced.
“One and a half,” I replied. “We don’t arrive until late afternoon. We have the rest of today and most of tomorrow.”
“You’re far too downcast about this. Don’t you see the pleasure in it? Tomorrow we shall be in our new country. Tomorrow we are home. Why count the hours? It’s a special day!” Elisabeth bounced around more, jumping the way I did when I was exuberant. “Why do you look so…worried?”
“I’m happy. God will provide. All will be well.”
“You didn’t convince yourself. You certainly didn’t convince me,” she replied.
“There are many unknowns for me Elisabeth. I…don’t know what to expect.”
“Neither do I. That’s part of the fun you see? You said that you have people who will meet you when the boat arrives, yes?”
“Apparently, Martine said that she arranged for that.”
“Well, you have much more than I have.”
I didn’t respond. I felt silly. Elisabeth didn’t know where she would stay tomorrow night. She didn’t have a lover to look for when she arrived. Yet she was excited, while I was scared.
“You worry too much Margareta” It felt more odd than ever to have this girl I knew so well not know my real name. I wanted to tell her the truth. “You will be just fine,” she continued. “You were brave enough to leave your family to follow your dreams. You certainly have the courage to make the life that you want. We both do. We are sisters of determination.” I smiled a sincere thankful smile. “I need to go now,” she said. “You are depressing me. Here I thought I had a great life ahead of me and you are bringing me down.”
“Elisabeth, please. I am sorry to dump my issues on you. Especially when my worries are not as…”
“Stop speaking Margareta. That’s why I must end this charming conversation. Let’s not compare my life to yours. My life is what it is. I won’t apologize for it, nor will I condemn it. It’s all that I have. I am only willing to appreciate every moment of it, short or long. My opportunities will be created by me. How I live is now my responsibility. I shall savor the gravy of every morsel, and when my supper is finished, I shall know that it was well enjoyed.”
She walked off with a wave. I felt badly and turned to stare at the stretch of sea to the west.
The seventh day took forever to pass as I waited for signs of land. It was apparent when Lady Liberty came into view of the boat. People rushed to the starboard side to see her raised torch to welcome us. I squeezed into the crowd to see for myself what I had only heard about. It seemed obvious that if Andre was on board he was not going to approach me, so I enjoyed the exciting moment of seeing her welcoming torch as we approached. She was small, off in the distance, growing larger in graduated increments. People smiled with their eyes glued to the frozen figure. Exciting noises and whispers escaped at once.
As we floated towards shore, she drew us towards her strength and beauty. For a few minutes I felt alone on the large vessel, my eyes fixed on the great Statue of Liberty, letting her bring me to her bosom and wrap me in her safe haven. Her outreach of hope became my comfort, along with a crowd of people I didn’t know. We united in her welcome. People looked at one another with large grins, as if they had won a great prize. Many coming to cross this new country sought freedom, like I did. And freedom was a gift I would celebrate.
When we neared the pier, people were less friendly as they pushed around the boat ready to escape its confinement. An announcement was made that first-class passengers were to disembark first and go to the first building which was customs. The announcement caused me to smile, only because I didn’t want to be mixed in with the rush of people who wanted off. Fortunately, Martine had taken care of my immigration papers during her week of preparation. How could I ever doubt her motives? Then it was announced that second-class passengers would disembark next and that third-class passengers would be taken by ferry to Ellis Island for inspection.
Customs was simple. There were lines for different languages. A man looked at my papers, asked me several questions in French, which I apparently answered correctly, and let me pass through out to the crowded pier of New York. The pier was chaos as people shouted names and looked for loved
ones. Immediately I felt worried that I would not find the man and woman that Martine had described. There were vast numbers of people at the pier selling goods or services, such as hats, carriage rides, hotel stays or train passes.
The air smelled different than it had ever smelled before, much different than Le Havre which smelled of sea, tides and fresh clean oxygen. New York smelled much more industrious, as if man was constructing something new at all hours of the day. Burning coal and hot steam engines were hard at work. The city smelled alive and exciting, but certainly not like home. Suddenly my home land felt a million miles away and I feared that I might live and die among strangers. Monsieur and Madam Batton approached me in all of the confusion. “Are you Mademoiselle Bourguignon?”
“Oui! You found me. Thank you for coming. I am pleased to meet you!” I said smiling with relief.
As I started to walk toward the luggage area with the Batton’s, Elisabeth ran up to us. “Margareta,” she called loudly, “Please wait.” She spoke firmly and calmly, “Don’t look around, look only at me. A man will pay me a lot of money to find out the address where you will be staying. He told me to say I would write to you. He will pay me as soon as I deliver the address to him. It must be the man who tried to make advances on you the first day on the boat. You were wise to hide from him. Please,” she said looking at Monsieur Batton, “Do you have a fake address for me to give him?” Monsieur took the envelope from Elisabeth’s hand and wrote out an address.
“Give him this. It’s the address of the chief of police. He’s a friend of mine.”
“Thank you!” Elisabeth replied. She hugged and kissed me and waved as if we had a pleasant exchange.
“Elisabeth,” I said as she turned to leave, “You cannot trust this man. Don’t give him other information that’s true, even if he sweet talks you. He’s not safe. I can feel it.”
She ran off skipping. I didn’t allow my eyes to follow her and possibly find Andre watching me. He must have silently followed me onto the ship, trying to learn of my plans and possibly learn Jean-Paul’s whereabouts. It was possible that he followed me to get to Jean-Paul and finish what he started.
Monsieur Batton looked at me for an explanation. “I will explain when we are safe in your home. It’s best that we are sure we are not followed,” I said, trying to not sound frightened.
Together we walked to the large baggage area and waited for my belongings, including my new trunk and gifts from Martine. I glanced around casually, looking for Andre’s watchful eyes. I didn’t see him; apparently he was better at hiding than I was. It took a long time to unload all the passengers’ luggage and even longer to find my own. Monsieur paid two men to bring my trunks to a carriage. We all boarded a beautiful carriage with a driver.
***
Chapter Twelve: Reuniting with Disappointment
New York City, April 1899
We rode to their apartment building in downtown New York City taking several quiet side streets along the way to be sure no one was watching us.
An elevator took us to the fourth floor. Their flat was beautifully appointed, but with an influence I didn’t recognize. The furniture was simple, with clean lines. The fabric had simple patterns, although rich and of excellent quality. I assumed it all was from American designers. It didn’t feel like a French home, although that’s what I expected it to look like from the way they had greeted me and spoke.
Madam Batton gave me a tour of the apartment. “Here is where you will sleep. You may put your things in the bureau and freshen up. There is clean water in the basin,” Madam Batton said. She walked away and left me alone. I sat on the bed and rested my weary body. I let my thoughts go, as my head swam with worries, wondering, and anxiety. After a fifteen minute rest, I quieted my worries and joined them in the dining room.
“Have some warm soup and bread Mademoiselle. You must keep up your strength,” Madam said.
“Merci.” I sat at the table and tasted the warm dish. “Mmm, delicious.”
“You have learned a few English words. I will be happy to assist you with pronunciation and teach you some important phrases if you would like me to,” Madam offered.
‘Merci, that would be wonderful.”
“We know that you must be quite tired Mademoiselle. Rest well. Tomorrow we can show you some of New York City. We checked on the schedule of Monsieur Soule’s arrival. He arrives the day after tomorrow. You arrived here with perfect timing.”
“Merci, for everything you are doing. Please call me Cherie.”
I slept hard that night, free of the confines of the ship and the soft wave motions. I dreamt only one dream that I recalled. I saw Jean-Paul, but I couldn’t get to him. He was far off. He couldn’t see me and I couldn’t close the gap on the distance between us. I watched helplessly as people took him somewhere. I couldn’t even follow him or scream to get his attention.
The sun lit the bedroom through the window when I woke. I turned towards the light and saw the ball of fire rising above the horizon of buildings and streets. The brilliance seemed to be promising me something, as it lit up my face and hair. It felt like a promise of hope for a better existence than the one I left. I allowed it to fill me up to my core as the sun’s warmth inspired each centimeter of my being. I resolved to myself to walk forward with courage and conviction. Then I committed to follow my resolve, in return for this daily encouragement.
Stepping out to the streets of New York should have stirred the winds of euphoria within me. Instead of excitement, isolation whipped up and down my spine. The city felt unfriendly, empty and without meaning. I couldn’t decide why. I looked around at the faces walking by on the streets. I saw the sky and surrounding structures. This country, my new home, was lacking something I needed. What more could I ask of a place? Suddenly I realized what was absent; a familiar face, one in particular. I was alone in an amazing metropolis. Although it could meet my needs on most levels, this city didn’t have my lover within her arms and New York was a harsh place for me to be alone.
New York City had similarities to Paris, and other European countries. The influence was strong, but mixed. One area of the city had buildings that resembled Paris. Another area had buildings that looked more like Great Britain. Although I had not traveled throughout Europe, I’d seen many paintings and drawings of other cities. New York took parts of all of them and mixed them together. Buildings were tall, in many parts of the city, taller than the average buildings in Paris. The most memorable part of the day was Central Park. In the middle of the city was a giant park with a lake, bridges, trees, animals, ponds and rock formations. It was larger than any park in Paris. The Batton’s took me by carriage through the grounds, but it was far too large to see it all. There were two museums, but we didn’t take the time to see them. The more of the city they showed to me, the more the day became a blur. I swirled in a haze of busy streets, unfamiliar languages, new smells and different architecture. The food was different, even the coffee tasted unfamiliar. I tired of our tour and wanted to go to their home and wait for the time to pass. I tried to be polite and enjoy their hospitality. I made an effort to be interested in New York. I wanted to be interested. But I could only think of Jean-Paul. The distraction kept me from enjoying this new place.
I let the day slowly drift into the next, looking only for the hour when I would move towards my lover. The boat was due to arrive at one thirty in the afternoon. The morning pushed forward like a dense fog that refused to move. I noticed that my breath surged in and out in quick, short bursts at times. I couldn’t quiet the anxious pressure gently squeezing my heart. Sometimes my buttocks muscles twitched from the thought of my lover’s touch on my thighs. My labia tingled for ten minutes, then again for thirty, until it was nearly constant. Whole body-shivers occasionally grabbed me when his naked body flashed in my mind. My fingers stayed in constant motions, as if they danced to some music without rhythm. There was a satisfaction that awaited me; the taste of him, the feel of his skin on my tongue and th
e scent of him upon which my being floated as I breathed it in. Every part of my body desired the pleasure I craved, not just the sexual, but the intimacy, the comfort of my lover’s caring eyes, the kind words whispered and the safety of two.
Madam prepared an appetizing lunch at 11:30. I sat at the table, hoping that my body would accept food when it focused on other hungers. I bit into a warm croissant, the first one I enjoyed since leaving Paris. My lips and teeth closed around flaky, buttered bread that filled my taste buds with a familiar indulgence. All of my sensations heightened as my body seemed to want to glean a climax from this physical stimulation. I closed my eyes and chewed slowly, appreciating every detail of the complex pastry. My mouth reveled in it, and my stomach accepted it, as if it were the prelude to something forth-coming. Every bite of lunch seemed to build towards a wanting that didn’t end.
We packed some food for Jean-Paul, and departed a little early for the freight harbor. Our carriage could only take us to the streets edge, which meant we had to walk about a half a mile toward the docks. Other roads approached the docks, but they were marked for delivery wagons. I looked around at the cargo ships unloading freight with large cranes next to long warehouses. The ship we searched for was called Belle Eue; Pretty Water. Martine had bribed the ticket master to tell her the name of the ship Jean-Paul had boarded. We asked around but no one seemed to know where Pretty Water would unload. They directed us to seek out the dock foreman, but no one knew his location. We walked from dock to dock while curious faces traced our steps with their eyes. I looked out across the bay. There were more cargo ships unloading far from where we stood. It was all confusing.
I saw ships drifting like swans on the water, barely moving. I saw tug boats pulling at large barges. Where is Jean-Paul? I asked myself. I scanned the harbor, as if I could see him behind the armor of a ship’s hull. I willed myself to know where he was. At the edge of the harbor a smaller boat came into view. It looked to be half the size of the larger craft. It moved a bit more quickly and caught my attention. There was friendliness about this boat, like a familiar face. As the boat approached, excitement grew inside of me. I felt a desire to run towards the boat, but I didn’t know where it would land. “I think that might be the right boat. It just….feels right,” I said to Monsieur and Madam.
Painted with Love: Romance Eludes Time and Death Page 15