Chasing Paris

by Jen Carter

  Lizzie was unsure how to respond. She remained silent.

  “It seems that you aren’t.”

  “No. I’m just not sure what I got myself into.” She again brought her eyes to meet his. “John, I think I need to find out. I need to find out if I made the right choice. I need to go on a short trip. May I?”

  “Will you be traveling alone?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m not yet sure.”

  John rose to his feet. “Will you come back?”

  She again hesitated. “If I don’t come back—wouldn’t it be better for that to happen now rather than later?”

  John nodded.

  Lizzie slid the shoebox back under the bed. “I will know soon after I leave whether it was right for me to marry you. John, I’m sorry to put you through this. I imagine I was a bit young to think that marriage was appropriate. But I will do the right thing—whatever that may be—and if I come back, I will be a true wife. I will have banished the ghosts that haunt me, and I will be entirely devoted to you.”

  John turned and walked toward the door. “I’ll be here.” Before he crossed into the hallway, he turned and said, “When will you leave?”

  “Tomorrow, perhaps.”

  He nodded and then disappeared.

  Lizzie took a cab to Eva’s house the next morning and asked the driver to keep the car running. As she walked to the front door, she felt her heart’s pace quickening. She feared that the meeting wouldn’t be as short as she told the cab driver—but she needed to hope that her fears were unfounded.

  Lizzie knocked, wondering if she were crazy to think Eva would be the person to speak with. Once Eva answered the door, she knew that coming to see her sister was a mistake.

  Eva’s eyes went from Lizzie to the cab waiting in the street and then back to Lizzie. Her face darkened.

  “What did you do?” she asked.

  “I need your help,” Lizzie began. “Billy told you he was in Los Angeles. Where in Los Angeles?”

  “You must be crazy to think that I would tell you where he is.” Eva crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. “Are you leaving John?”

  “No, I don’t think so. But I need to see Billy. I need to see if I made the right decision in marrying John.”

  “Lizzie, it doesn’t matter if it was the right decision or not. It was the decision you made. And you need to make it work. Billy has no part in that.”

  “I think he does.”

  Eva shook her head. “You aren’t a twenty-year-old romping around Paris and breaking hearts anymore. That chapter is over. You must move on. Stop letting Billy torture you. You have to move on.”

  Lizzie let Eva’s words sink in. When she didn’t speak, Eva continued.

  “And don’t think that John is doing you any favors here. Letting you run off to see another man—that’s not gallant or smart or loving. He thinks he saved you from something, but if he really did save you—if he saved you because he loved you—he would be fighting to keep you right now.”

  Eva’s words lashed at Lizzie’s plan. Their sting disoriented her.

  “You know what?” Eva continued. “The three of you deserve each other. Go ahead Lizzie. Go off and find Billy. Realize that he will continue to haunt you as long as you let him. Then run back to John and pretend that you’ve decided not to let Billy haunt you. That will be a great way to live your life.”

  Lizzie found her voice, but only a few words came to her. “Eva—what?”

  “Some things are sacred. Marriage is one of them. I may be flippant about many other things, but not this. I know not to learn the hard way, and you should have learned that as well.”

  “You won’t help me find him,” Lizzie said, her voice flat.

  “I will not.” She looked over Lizzie’s shoulder toward the cab. “And you have a decision to make. Either you go home to your husband, or you go on your little journey alone—with no help. You decide.”

  Eva closed the door without saying goodbye. Lizzie stood, dumbfounded, for a moment. She turned and walked toward the cab.

  “Can you take me to the airport?” she asked the driver upon opening the car door.

  THIRTY-ONE

  T

  wo months passed. John continued to work, and his days grew longer and longer among the books. He missed Lizzie. He missed having contact with another person, although he wondered if any human contact would have been sufficient—or if he craved his wife in particular. That the question even arose troubled him.

  But when the phone rang and he heard her voice on the line, his heart swelled. He had truly missed her.

  “John, I’m coming home,” she said. “If you will still have me.”

  “There will always be a place for you here.” Relief flooded him. “When will you arrive?”

  “Tomorrow. Is that fine?”

  “I look forward to seeing you.”

  “Tomorrow, then.” Lizzie paused, wondering if she should wait until tomorrow to share the news resting on the tip of her tongue. “And John, you’re going to be a daddy.”

  ***

  “You better put that away,” April said, passing by the family room toward the front door. “Mom and Nana are walking up the driveway.” She stopped abruptly, unplanned, and looked into the family room. “What is on your head, Amy?”

  Amy’s hands flew to Will’s baseball cap. “I forgot I still had this on.” She took it off and handed it to Will, somehow feeling as though she had been caught in the act of some wrongdoing. He put the hat on his head.

  April narrowed her eyes at them and then continued on to the front door. “Seriously, put that stuff away.”

  Amy stuffed the stack of papers under the couch. “Why are Mom and Nana here?” she called in April’s direction as she stood up and pushed her hair behind her shoulders.

  “The three of us are going to get coffee,” April called back.

  “You couldn’t have warned us five minutes ago?”

  Amy walked toward the entryway. Will followed.

  “What’s the fun in that?”

  April opened the door for her mother and grandmother. Eva entered first, followed by Debbie who was holding a phone to her ear.

  “Hello, my sweet girls,” Eva said, hugging both her granddaughters at once. “How are you doing?”

  “Good, Nana,” Amy said.

  Before April could answer, Debbie dropped the phone into her purse and said, “Amy, I was just listening to a message from Miles. He wants me to call him. That’s kind of odd.” She smiled and hugged her two daughters.

  Amy pulled away from her mother and felt her mouth drop. “What? He called you?” She pushed a curl behind her ear and felt her face warm. “Don’t call him back. He’s being ridiculous.”

  Debbie laughed. “Is he trying to get you in trouble with me?”

  “Sounds like it,” April said. “I’d break up with him if I were you.”

  “April, stop now,” Debbie said.

  “Seriously, Mom, don’t call him back,” Amy said. “I’ll take care of it.”

  Debbie gave April a look that said Not another word from you and then smiled at Amy. “Okay then. He’s all yours.” Her eyes moved beyond her daughters and landed on Will. She waved at him and said, “Hi, I’m Amy and April’s mom, Debbie. And this is the girls’ grandmother, Eva.”

  Will squeezed past Amy and April to shake hands with their mother and grandmother. “Hi, I’m Will. I’m an old friend of Amy’s from college.”

  “Have I met you before?” Debbie asked. “You look familiar.”

  “Probably,” April said. “He spent a lot of time at Jerry’s Famous Deli when I worked there.” She pushed both Eva and Debbie’s shoulders toward the door. “Come on, let’s go. We have lots to talk about, and I’m in the mood for a five-dollar drink made almost entirely of caramel and foam.”

  “Oh, I miss Jerry’s Deli,” Eva said while April guided her through the door. �
��It was one of my favorite parts of visiting you in Los Angeles.”

  “Goodbye kids,” Debbie said over her shoulder. “Have a nice evening.”

  Amy and Will waved, and then Amy closed the door. She turned toward Will. “You spent a lot of time at Jerry’s Famous Deli? What does that mean?”

  Will readjusted his baseball cap and shifted his weight. “Kind of a weird thing to say, wasn’t it? I don’t know.”

  Amy walked toward the family room. “My sister. Sheesh.” Her voice sounded far away—like the words she spoke weren’t the words she was thinking.

  Will followed her. He watched her pull Eva’s Words from underneath the couch. She sat down, her body rigid, her eyes fixed on the paper. The red of anger clung to her face.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  Amy looked over at Will. “Miles called my mom to tell her what I was doing with Lizzie’s stuff. He was going to tattle on me like I’m a six-year-old. Who does that?”

  Will sat down next to her and nodded. “Yeah, that was a bad move.”

  “Of all the things he could have done, he decided to call my mom?”

  Will continued nodding. “A really bad move.”

  “I’m not going to call him. I can’t even imagine talking to him right now.”

  “I wouldn’t want to call him, either. But let’s put this in perspective. He didn’t try to ruin your wedding day.”

  A wry smile crossed Amy’s face, and she shook her head. “If that’s all he has going for him, we’re in trouble.” She pushed a piece of paper toward Will. “Read.”

  ***

  Dearest Eva,

  I’m writing this letter to say goodbye. It won’t be a long goodbye, but it’s a goodbye nonetheless. The last time I said goodbye to you did not go very well, and I’m a coward—I don’t want to repeat that awful scene. So I’m saying goodbye in a letter.

  You know I’ve not been happy. It’s been twelve years since my last summer in Paris with you, and my sanity is slowly draining. I have a husband and three children, none of whom bring me joy. I’m exhausted by how mundane my world is, and when I look in the mirror I see a stranger. I’m plagued by my former life. I’m plagued by the mistakes I’ve made and the reason I made those mistakes.

  I look at you and find myself filled with envy. Aidan is everything you’ve ever wanted. Je is your perfect match. You had the patience to wait for him. You followed your heart rather than the demands of our parents. You never questioned your decisions, and the love you two share is worth so much more than the inheritance you lost. I was not patient. I did not follow my heart. And now I’m paying the price.

  I cannot go on like this.

  I will be mailing this letter from the airport. I leave for New York at the end of this hour. John is aware that I’m leaving, but he believes it simply business that needs tending. I did not tell him what that business was. I could not tell you the same. As much as you will hate me for this, I could not tell you the same lie.

  I will be back. I do not know when—perhaps a week, perhaps a month.

  You love my children more than I. For their sake, please see them and make sure John remembers to care for them in my absence. I fear he will forget to bathe and feed them.

  I do hope you will forgive me by the time we next meet. I loathe myself for sinking so low in your eyes, but I know not what else to do.

  All my heart,

  Lizzie

  Eva laid the letter on the table where she sat. She said a silent prayer for her three nieces. Moments later, she rose and crossed the room to get her coat.

  ***

  “Dad, tell Debbie to leave us alone,” Mary said while walking into the kitchen.

  John stood over the stove, turning on a gas burner. He looked toward the sound of his daughter’s voice.

  “Daddy, they won’t let me play with them,” Debbie complained, following right behind her big sister.

  “Dad, Anne and I are working on a drawing. Debbie keeps messing it up.” Mary turned to her five-year-old sister. “You can’t draw like me and Anne. Why don’t you just go and draw your own picture?”

  “But I want to help you.” The little girl’s eyes were huge, disappointed.

  John set the teakettle on the burner. “Debbie, leave your sisters alone. Why don’t you go play outside?”

  “That’s no fun if I’m by myself.”

  Mary turned around and left the room, feeling as though her task had been accomplished.

  “Well, then why don’t you go up to the attic and play with all those dolls you’ve got up there?”

  Debbie looked after her sister. “Why don’t they want to play with me?”

  “That’s just what happens when you’re the youngest. I’m sorry, darling.” He wiped up the water spots on the counter and left the dish towel between the stove and the sink. “Come. I’ll go with you up to the attic.” He led her out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

  The attic was full of boxes and trunks, old toys, and baby furniture. John looked around the room, spotting a box marked dolls. He pointed to it. “Why don’t you play with what’s over there?” He walked to the box and opened it. Debbie followed him.

  “There you go. Okay?”

  He looked at his daughter. She nodded at him, and he smiled.

  “All right. I’ll be down in my study if you need anything.” He patted her on the head and went back to his second story office, forgetting about the teakettle on the stove.

  Debbie picked up the top doll in the box. It was a cloth doll with button eyes and a painted-on nose. Mary had drawn whiskers on it long ago. Debbie put it back and grabbed another one. It too had whiskers drawn on it. She put it back, feeling just as unhappy as before. Mary and Anne were too old to play with her, and all the dolls had been ruined.

  She went down the stairs, deciding she’d rather be outside than up in a stuffy attic. She walked by her dad’s study, looking in for a moment. Her father sat at his desk, immersed in a book, holding a pencil poised a few inches above the text. She continued on her way, passing the room where her sisters had been drawing. She looked in, finding that they were gone. As she walked out of the house, she saw them outside, sitting on the curb.

  The day was warm and windy. The teakettle, boiling, whistled. Yet, no one was near enough to hear it. It whistled and whistled, the searing sound holding steady until the water evaporated.

  Soon the whistling had ceased, and the aluminum bottom of the kettle began melting. The melt was slow at first, but then the kettle itself caught fire and the melting quickened.

  The kettle glowed red as it curled in the flames. A spark jumped from the stove to the dishtowel next to the counter. A moment later, the dishtowel was drowning in flames with its own sparks jumping in every direction. One caught a hold of the curtains lining the window above the sink.

  John lifted his head from his book. Something was burning—he could smell it. He strode across his study, breaking into a run down the hall as he remembered the teapot.

  The kitchen was engulfed in flames when he got there. His heart thudded in his chest as he assessed the scene before him. Debbie, he thought. The attic. He sprinted away from the kitchen and toward the stairs.

  “Debbie! Anne! Mary! Get out!” he yelled as he ran through the house. “Get out now! Fire!” His heart continued to pound. Upon climbing into the attic, he scanned the room. “Debbie!” he called. “Debbie, where are you?” He turned around in a circle, his eyes unable to find his daughter.

  He ran to the window and peered into the front yard. At the curb he could see his three girls staring in horror at the house. Mary held Debbie and Ann in a sideways hug, half hiding their staring eyes. John threw open the window’s latch and yelled down to his daughters, “Go across the street and call the fire department from the neighbor’s house. Now!”

  Mary released her arm from Anne’s shoulders and nudged her sister toward the neighbor’s house. Anne followed the silent orders and ran.

  “Dad!”
Mary called. “Dad, you have to get out of there! Climb through the window!”

  Debbie hid her face in her sister’s shirt. She knew her dad had gone up to the attic to look for her.

  John turned from the window and looked around the attic. It was full of boxes—boxes of their family treasures. He grabbed the closest box and threw it out the window. It landed with a bounce in the yard, books flying in all directions. Mary peeled Debbie from her shirt and ran into the yard to collect the books. Just as she had gathered them and moved them into the street, two more boxes flew from the window.

  “Dad! That’s enough!” Mary yelled. “Get out of there!”

  John could feel the floor warming under his feet. He needed to climb out the window and jump. There was one more box labeled books. He would throw that one out the window and then jump.

  He lugged the box to the window and hoisted it up. His feet were beginning to burn through his shoes. He shoved the box out the window and—

  The roof collapsed beneath his feet.

  John disappeared from Mary and Debbie’s sight. Both girls screamed.

  ***

  Eva stepped on her car’s brakes as she neared her sister’s street and saw that it was blocked by fire trucks and police cars. Fear overtook her initial curiosity as she saw Lizzie’s charred house, smoking but no longer burning. She threw the car in park, jumped out, and ran, weaving between police cars and fire trucks.

  Panic strangled her as she tried to find her nieces and John in the crowd that had gathered across the street. They weren’t there.

  But a moment later she saw the girls sitting on a curb talking to a police officer. She ran faster toward them.

  Debbie caught sight of her first. She pushed herself up from the curb and ran to her aunt. Mary and Anne followed. Tears streaked their ash-dusted faces. They clutched at Eva’s waist, sobbing, and she tried to hold them all closer.

  “Where’s your daddy?” Eva asked. “Girls, where is he?”

  Debbie sobbed harder as Mary answered.