by Susan Finlay
Putting his obsession away, her words, not his, he saw that Isabelle was correct. Only a few nuns remained at the convent, most of them being elderly, by Josh’s estimation, yet all but one appeared younger than Paulette.
One of the oldest looking nuns spoke to Isabelle in French, with Isabelle translating.
“This is Sister Madalene. She says she cannot remember the names of the girls who came here years ago to deliver their babies. She says they used to keep records in the main office on this floor, but they recently moved them down to the cellar. She will let us look through them, but we can’t remove anything.”
“That’s great.” He looked at the nun, bowed slightly and said, “Merci.”
Sister Madalene escorted them downstairs, flipping on lights along the way. She said something in French to Isabelle and then disappeared back the way she had come.
“She said the files are in these boxes and they’re filed in date order,” Isabelle explained.
They looked similar to the boxes in Paulette’s storage area, but at least had dates marked on the outside. Okay, he had some familiarity with this sort of job. He plopped down on the concrete floor and crossed his legs. “Wait, did you say date order? You mean the date the baby was born?”
“Oh. I don’t know. She wasn’t clear about that.”
After thumbing through a couple files, they decided they were in order of the date when each girl came to stay in the convent. That made it a bit more difficult, since Josh didn’t know how long Paulette had been here.
Josh tried to call Paulette, but in the cellar he couldn’t get a signal.
He was about to get up and go outside to try, when Isabelle said, “We should be able to at least figure out an approximate start date. When did you say she give birth?”
“Oh, that I know. The 10th of December, 1945. That’s the date she gave me. Did you get anything—dates—from her diary?”
“I checked that last night. She hid her pregnancy from her parents until she was four or five months along. A couple of weeks later, they drove her here. That would have been in late July or early August. I’ll take the July files. You can look through August.”
As he thumbed through the box, Josh exclaimed “Wow, they had a lot of girls here.”
An hour later Isabelle held up a folder. “I found it. Paulette Rabaud, arrived here 25, July, 1945. Son, Andre Rabaud, born 10, December, 1945. Paulette’s parents picked her up five days later.”
“What happened to the baby?”
“It doesn’t say. Maybe it will tell us in the December folders.”
Josh immediately looked in the next box, which contained files through December, 1945. He skimmed through adoption files, organized by month and day. The adoption file marked ‘10th, 11th, 12th’.—contained the names of two babies, one girl with the last name of Girard, and then the boy with the last name Rabaud. The boy was adopted by Sandrine and Raimond Laroche from Lavardin.
Josh, ecstatic that they had found a trail so quickly, jotted down the name and date on his cell phone and said, “I’ve got it, let’s go.” They carefully returned the files to their boxes, restacked the boxes the same way they’d found them, then rushed up the stairs, thanked a waiting sister Madalene, and proceeded out of the building.
“What did you find out?” Isabelle asked.
“How common is the name Laroche here in France?”
“Somewhat common. Why?”
“I think we should go back to Mythe. I need to talk to Paulette and check out a crazy thought.”
They hurried back to the train station and checked the schedule. The next train that would take them back to Mythe would leave in an hour and a half. That gave them time to eat a light lunch and do a bit of sightseeing.
By the time they arrived back in Mythe, it was nearly dinner time.
“Do you want to get something to eat?” Josh asked as he walked Isabelle back to her apartment.
“Not today. I should get home and spend time with Apollo. I feel guilty for leaving him alone so much. And I need to go to sleep early—remember, I need to get up at four a.m. for baking.”
He nodded, embraced and kissed her, feeling her return his passion. As they parted, Josh was struck by the beautiful way the late afternoon light radiated off of her. He asked her to stay still a moment, grabbed hold of his camera hanging down from his neck the way it had been all day, and snapped a photo. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“It’s all right. I’ve never had so many photos taken of me before. I love your photos, especially the ones of scenery. But it embarrasses me when you make photos of me. I’m not very attractive.”
“I think you are.”
She blushed and looked away for a moment. “May I see the picture of me, the one you just took?”
Josh set the camera to display the picture and held it out for her to see.
“Oh Josh, you have such a good eye. The lighting makes me look almost radiant. How do you do that? Is this how you see me?”
Josh nodded at her, turned the camera display off, and drew Isabelle into another embrace, heart pounding, feeling a bit light headed.
When they parted, she smiled demurely and said, “I look forward to seeing more of your photos, sir.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” He tipped his head and said, “I do love photography.”
Changing the subject, she asked, “You haven’t taken any pictures of Mythe yet, have you? Do you not find Mythe as lovely as Apremont?”
“I do, but haven’t had a chance yet, since I got my camera back. You know, that’s a good idea. I might snap a few before I go back to the troglo. It’s a good time of day for it.”
After waving goodbye, he watched Isabelle disappear into her building and then he strolled through town, snapping picture after picture, seeing it differently through the lens.
An hour later, feeling happier than he had in quite a while and having taken more photos than intended, he decided to stop off at the hotel to see if Vanessa had checked out. A young woman Josh had never seen before was working at the desk. She checked their guest book and confirmed that Vanessa had indeed checked out that morning. Oh, thank God.
Glancing at his watch and noting it was past dinnertime, and with his stomach growling, he stopped at a deli and bought two orders of a French dish that smelled heavenly but didn’t recognize. Hoping Paulette would enjoy it, he began his hike up the hill.
This time, when he walked into the troglo, Gigi barked and ran to the door to greet him, tail wagging and puppies bumping into each other. In their eagerness to get to him first, they jostled him and almost made him drop the dinners he had brought.
Paulette looked up from her recliner and smiled. “I didn’t expect you back this soon. Did you have a good trip?”
“Yeah, we did. Apremont is a beautiful little village. Did you get to see much of it while you lived in the convent?”
“Not much. The sisters kept us inside the convent walls most of the time. We cooked and cleaned and did school work and helped with the babies who weren’t adopted.”
Josh nodded. “Have you had dinner? I brought food in case you haven’t eaten,” he said, setting the bag on the coffee table.
“I’m hungry and something smells delicious.”
“I’ll get us something to drink from the kitchen. Go ahead and get the food out of the bag. I’ll be right back.”
When they finished eating, Paulette patted her stomach, commenting on being stuffed. Josh looked at her and said, “Do you know the owners of the hotel here in Mythe?”
“Oui. Why do you ask? They seem like nice people.”
Josh hesitated. Probably a lot of Laroches in this part of France. Oh, well, it didn’t hurt to ask. “Do you happen to know if they’re related to the Laroches in Lavardin?”
She frowned. “I’m not really sure. They’ve been in town a long time. I’ve known Claudine’s family for years. Her parents lived their whole lives here. They were sad when she moved away to go to college and
never returned. Her parents died in a car accident, must have been ten years ago now, before she came back.”
That’s right. Domenic and Claudine had told him that when he was staying at the hotel. “You don’t know anything about Domenic’s family?”
“Not really.” She pursed her lips, thinking a moment. “I think someone told me he grew up mostly in Paris and worked as a librarian at the university during the time when Claudine was a student. That’s how they met. Her parents bragged about her all the time.”
“Do they have kids, grandkids? I stopped by the hotel when we got back from our trip this afternoon. Wanted to make sure Vanessa was gone. The Laroches weren’t there, but a young woman at the desk checked the guest book for me. I haven’t seen her before. I was wondering if she is related to them.”
“Oh, that would be their granddaughter, Helene. Nice girl. She graduated from the ecole two years ago and went away to a culinary school. I heard from Veronique that Helene recently came back and works part-time as a chef at our local restaurant.”
Josh knew from watching TV here that ecole was school in French. “Interesting.”
“Oh, Josh-you-ah, I thought you were keen on Isabelle. She will be devastated if you ask Helene out. She’ll hear about it, I have no doubt.”
He felt his face grow hot with embarrassment. “No, no. I’m not interested in Helene. Don’t worry. And I would never do that to Isabelle. I just wondered who she was.”
“Good.” Having put that concern to rest, she continued. “Now what shall we watch on the television?”
ROBERT CLAYTON, AGHAST, raised his voice at his wife standing in the doorway to their bathroom. “I’m not going to crash the airplane, Mary! Don’t you dare call the airline! Just because I don’t have much to live for anymore, that doesn’t mean I’m a killer. I wouldn’t take an airplane full of innocent people with me. How could you think I would do something that awful?” He sat on the edge of their bed, leaning forward, his hands on top of his head, pulling his hair.
“I’m worried about you,” Mary said. “You’re scaring me; all your talk about killing yourself. Grow up and take responsibility for what you’ve done to our son. You made a terrible, horrible mistake, but don’t throw your whole life away.”
“I can’t make the vision go away. Josh’s pained face that day he walked into our hotel room. The loathing in his voice when I talked to him on the phone. The way you look at me as though I’m a cancerous tumor you want cut out of your life.”
“Cancel your trip and go to a psychologist, Robert. Get some help before you do something that can’t be undone.”
“It’s already too late. I’ve done something that can’t be undone. Don’t you see? He won’t talk to me. I don’t think he ever will again.”
“You can’t keep going on like this. You’re scaring me.”
AFTER COFFEE AND breakfast with Paulette, making sure she was fine for a few hours, and after attending to a few chores Paulette asked him to do, Josh made an excuse to go into town. He arrived at the bakery and stared at the long line of customers trailing out the door, then glanced at his watch. Isabelle saw him through the window, waved, then excused herself for a moment, squeezed through the door, and met him outside.
“You aren’t here for chocolates, are you?”
“Not yet. I was hoping to use your internet. I can probably use my phone for the little bit of research I need to do, but that requires Wi-Fi.”
“The door is unlocked. Go up and take whatever time you need. My computer is shut-off. You can turn it on if you want.”
“Won’t need to—at least I don’t think so. Thanks.”
Upstairs, he sat on the sofa and pulled out his cell phone.
Apollo soon sidled up and rubbed against his legs. Josh reached down and petted the cat, eliciting throaty comfortable purrs. When he stopped, the cat immediately jumped up onto Josh’s lap, blocking his view of the phone’s screen. “Okay, okay, I’ll pet you a bit longer, but then you’ll have to lie down and take a nap.” As soon as the words came out of his mouth he shook his head—dummy, the cat doesn’t understand English.
When the cat curled up beside Josh, he turned his attention back to his phone. Huh, maybe Apollo does understand.
After an hour of research, he had the answer he was looking for. Domenic Laroche was born 10 December, 1945 in Apremont-sur-Allier. The Laroche family that adopted him probably changed his name from Andre to Domenic. What were the odds Domenic would happen to meet his future wife Claudine from the very town where his birth mother lives and that her parents would die in an automobile accident leaving the two of them the hotel?
Excited, Josh dashed down the stairs, peeked into the bakery, and waved to Isabelle before jogging over to the hill and up the trail to the troglo.
“I found your other son,” he said to Paulette, who was sweeping the tile floor in the living room.
Paulette faced him and froze. “Already? How? Are you sure it’s him?”
“I think you should sit down.”
Her face was ashen, and Josh thought she might faint.
“Are you okay? Maybe I shouldn’t—”
“It’s not the news that’s giving me trouble. I shouldn’t have tried to sweep up. Some days I can do simple chores, some days I can’t.”
“Okay, sit and take some time to catch your breath,” he said, leading her to her chair. “I’ll get you a glass of water.”
He hurried into the kitchen, filled a glass with bottled water from the refrigerator, and carried it into the living room.
Paulette held out her hand and tried to grab it, but her shaky hand slipped back down.
“Do you need one of your pills?”
“The little yellow one.”
He rushed back into the kitchen and found the right medication, then ran back. He held the pill in his open palm. She took it and put it in her mouth, and he held the glass up to her lips, tilting it slightly.
“Thank you,” she said, closing her eyes a moment.
Josh sat on the edge of the sofa, waiting. Should he tell her, or would it be too much for her? Was she afraid to find out about her other son?
She opened her eyes and stared at him. “Where is Andre? Is he still in Apremont?”
“I believe he was adopted by a family named Laroche from Levardin. I did some checking this morning on the internet. Domenic Laroche was born on the same day as Andre and in the same place.”
Her mouth gaped open. “He’s been here for the past ten years.” Then her hand jerked over to cover it. “Was he spying on me? What does he want?” She stopped talking, her eyes moving side to side as she thought. “What if he killed Franco, thinking he was Charles, and then saw Charles in town yesterday? Maybe he’s gone looking for Charles to kill him again. That could be why Helene is working in the hotel.”
Josh had already thought of that, but he didn’t want to alarm Paulette. “Charles went back to Balazuc, but I’ll call Charles and tell him to be on the look-out. How well do you know Domenic and Claudine?”
“As I told you before, hardly at all. Mostly just what others have said. I used to see them in town sometimes. We would nod or wave to each other, maybe chat for a minute.”
“Did he seem familiar to you? You’d seen Andre twice before.”
“By the time they moved here—my goodness—he must have been sixty already. He seemed familiar only in that he had gray hair, a beard and mustache, and a beer belly like most of the old men I knew.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think of that. But he could have known you. Didn’t he ever try to talk to you?”
“Not that I recall. Nothing more than occasional greetings. His wife was friendlier. Why did he change his name? Was he trying to trick me?”
“His adoptive parents probably changed his name when they first got him. I checked online and it seems he’s been called Domenic from the beginning. He was an athlete in school and his soccer team won a lot of their games.”
“I’m a grandmoth
er and great-grandmother through him, too. I can’t believe this.”
“See, I told you. You’re not alone. You have family.”
She gave him a half smile. “Except one of my sons probably killed Franco. It must have been Domenic, trying to get rid of Charles to get back at me, but then why move to Mythe later? Did he plan to kill me, too?”
“I doubt it. Maybe he figured he’d already hurt you enough. Maybe he planned to wait until you passed away and then make a claim for your estate.”
She stared at him, looking very unhappy, then said, “That could be true. But what if he now had to change his plans because of Charles showing up in Mythe? Oh, God, we shouldn’t have brought Charles back here.”
Josh leaned forward and took Paulette’s hands in his. “Calm down, don’t panic, Paulette. We don’t know anything for sure right now. This is only idle speculation. Domenic might not have killed anyone and might not even care that he is your son. He might not even recognize you after all these years. It could all be an unusual coincidence. Even if he did, it might not have happened the way we think. He might not know Charles is still alive, and might just be taking a routine day off from work. We don’t know anything yet.”
As he tried to convince her, he could see the panic remain in her eyes. She wasn’t buying it.
“Please call Charles now. Tell him that he could be in grave danger. If Domenic is after my estate, he will want to make sure Charles is out of the way.”
Josh pulled out his cell phone and dialed Charles’s phone number. Voicemail. Crap. He left a message that it was urgent Charles call back as soon as he got the message. He wasn’t about to leave a more detailed message that his half-brother might be planning to kill him, when he wasn’t sure what was really going on.