Chasing Paris

by Jen Carter

  Her body ached as she walked toward the bathroom. She was still wearing the same clothes she wore to Billy’s the day before, and in the bathroom mirror she saw the wrinkles and beer stains they had acquired since the trip to Monterey. She splashed water on her face. Monterey felt like it had happened a year ago, but the wrinkles and beer stains proved otherwise.

  As she reached for her toothbrush, she saw her cell phone on the counter, left there the night before. She picked it up and saw an alert for seven voicemails. Six were from the night before and one was from this morning—and they were all from Miles. Each asked her to call him as soon as she got the message. I’m getting worried, he said somewhere in the fifth or sixth message. By the last message, she stopped listening. She finished brushing her teeth and deleted all seven.

  After a quick shower, she threw on some clothes and grabbed her purse.

  “I’m going to Nana’s,” she told April while passing through the kitchen. “I didn’t call Miles, so I halfway expect him to show up here. Please don’t tell him where I am.”

  April looked up from her cup of tea. “With pleasure.”

  As Amy reached for the doorknob, she heard her sister’s voice again.

  “When you get back, I want to talk to you.”

  “Okay.” She waited to see if April was going to elaborate. When no explanation came, a thin layer of guilt settled across Amy’s mind, dampening her memories of the last day. She waited a moment longer and then left.

  Driving to Nana’s house, she tried to ignore that guilt. She tried to figure out why it was there and why it wouldn’t evaporate. Was it because she knew what April wanted to talk about? Was it because of the family history she had discovered yesterday? Was it because she hadn’t called Miles?

  When Amy knocked on Eva’s front door, the guilt disappeared and was replaced by worry. Maybe she should have called first. It probably wasn’t a good idea to show up unexpectedly. Normally she would have called—but this morning she just wanted to get out of her house before Miles showed up.

  Aidan answered the door.

  “Hey kid!” he said. “What are you doing here? This is a nice surprise.”

  He beckoned her to step into the house. “Here to see your grandma? She’s at the grocery store. Should be back any minute now. Can I get you something to drink while you wait?”

  Aidan turned and headed into the house with Amy following him.

  “Grandpa, why is my mom so angry when it comes to Lizzie?” Amy blurted out. “I mean, I know why she’s angry, but why is it such a big deal for me to want to know what happened?”

  “You still talking about that wack-a-doodle Lizzie?” Aidan said, poking his head into the refrigerator. He pulled out two sodas and walked to the kitchen table where Amy was sitting. He shook his head at the drinks. “I don’t know for sure, but I believe it’s because Lizzie was so darn crazy. Who wants a crazy mom?” He sat down and placed one soda in front of Amy. As she picked it up and cracked the top, he leaned toward her and said in a softer voice, “So what do you know about her so far?”

  Amy’s eyes grew as the answer rolled out of her mouth. “I think I know a lot. I know that she married John even though she wasn’t over Billy. I know that she disappeared just in time for John to burn his house down. I know you and Nana ended up adopting mom and her sisters because John died in the fire. I just don’t know what happened after the fire.”

  Aidan sat back in his chair and nodded. “I’m impressed.”

  Amy gave her grandfather a pleading look. “Are you impressed enough to tell me what happened?”

  Aidan laughed. “I think you know as much as I do. And I think you answered your first question about why your mom is so upset.” His expression turned serious. “Wouldn’t you be mad if your mom walked out on you—and then you saw your dad die in a fire? If it were me, I’d want to pretend it never happened.”

  Amy nodded at her drink.

  “I think your mom is coming around. Just remember, she’s buried her feelings about Lizzie for years and years. It’s all resurfaced since Lizzie’s death. She needs time to work through those feelings, just like you’ve needed some time to figure out what happened.”

  Amy glanced at Aidan before fixing her eyes back on the soda can. “Did you know I was digging for answers?”

  Aidan smiled. “I figured. And I think this project is good for you. Your job has bored you to tears.” He chuckled. “I’ve been bored to tears watching you do that job. I’m glad to see you interested in something.”

  “Thanks, Grandpa.”

  “You know, there’s a shoebox under our bed filled with photos of Lizzie and such. I think you probably have a couple minutes before Nana gets home if you want to check it out.”

  Amy leapt to her feet. “You’re the best,” she said, patting Aidan on the shoulder before heading toward the stairs and taking them two at a time.

  In her grandparents’ room, she dove under the bed and pulled out a couple shoeboxes. The first one had shoes in it, but the second was filled with pictures. She grabbed a stack from one side of the box.

  The top picture showed two young women sitting at a café, sipping coffee, looking at each other instead of the camera. Amy flipped it over and read the handwriting on the back.

  Eva and Lizzie, Paris, 1955

  In the next, one of the young women from the first picture walked down a cobblestone road toward the camera, a knowing smile on her face.

  Lizzie, Paris, 1955, read the back.

  Amy studied the first two pictures. They—Eva and Lizzie—were so young. And they looked just as she imagined they would. Defiantly long hair. Glowing, amused eyes.

  She looked at another picture of Lizzie talking to a shorter woman outside a market, a bag of groceries sitting on each hip. She went through each one, slowly, checking the captions on the back. Then she flipped through all the pictures a second time, faster now. Lizzie staring at the sky, her hair hanging to her waist and swaying in the wind. Lizzie and Eva looking directly at the camera at close range, their eyes and smiles hinting at mockery. Lizzie sitting on a stool next to a painter, handing him a cup of coffee.

  Amy was about to grab another stack of pictures when she heard footsteps in the hallway. Her heart jumped. She knew they weren’t Aidan’s. His weren’t so rhythmic—his weren’t so fast. She shoved the pictures into the shoebox and pushed it under the bed. Then she slouched down, her back against the box spring.

  The footsteps stopped at the doorway. Amy held her breath.

  “Honey, do you really think you need to hide from me?” Eva said. “I’ve never been much for those kinds of games. I didn’t think you were, either.”

  Amy got to her feet and looked toward her smiling grandmother. “Sorry, Nana.”

  Eva walked into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. “The second I came in—do you know what Grandpa said to me? He looked up from his drink and said, ‘Amy’s upstairs going through the shoeboxes under your bed.’” She laughed. “How do you like that? He’s the one who told you about those pictures—it seems like he’d be the first to cover for you.”

  Amy crawled onto the bed next to Eva. “Grandpa just can’t hide anything from you.”

  Eva continued to smile, though it faded slightly as she picked out her words. “That’s true.” She nodded. “And Grandpa has never quite known how to handle the topic of my sister. It’s always been a little touchy. You know how it is with sisters—even when you’re mad at April, you’d go to the end of the earth for her. Right?” Eva nodded again at Amy as though answering her own question. “Grandpa always understood that relationship, although he hasn’t always known what to say or do about it. And he probably wants you to know about Lizzie but doesn’t want to say the wrong thing.”

  “I’m sorry, Nana,” Amy interrupted. “I should have waited until you came home—I shouldn’t have come up here. My curiosity just got the best of me.”

  “I’m glad you’re curious. Your curiosity has always bee
n something that I’ve admired. And I know this has been a tough—”

  “Nana, I know everything,” Amy said before Eva could finish. “I know about the fire, I know that Lizzie abandoned her children for Billy, and I know that you were stuck raising them when she left. I know that my mom never got over it.”

  Eva absorbed Amy’s words. She nodded. Then she smiled and reached over and patted Amy’s leg. “I always knew that you were an excellent investigator. That’s part of why you became an English major—you always knew how to analyze what was in front of you. It sounds like you’ve done a good deal of exploration on this matter.”

  “I just wanted to know what happened. And I still just want to know what happened. Where was Lizzie during the fire? Had she gone to see Billy in New York? Did their relationship ever end?”

  Eva thought a moment and then sighed. Her eyes searched the walls of the room before finally settling back on Amy. “Honey, your mom has spent most of her life plagued by that last question of yours. She’s been swallowed by it—so much so that Billy and Lizzie have become a single monster in her mind. They’re a monster that stole her father and her childhood.” Eva shook her head. “I never told her that Lizzie went to New York right before the fire, but she’s an investigator like you. She found out on her own. And when she found out, she declared that no one in the family was ever to speak of Lizzie in her presence—or your presence.” Eva’s eyes searched the walls again. “I think that’s starting to change. Last night April brought Lizzie into conversation when we were at coffee. She—”

  “April did what?” Amy had heard Eva just fine, but she couldn’t stop the words from coming.

  Eva tilted her head toward her granddaughter and smiled. “She wants to protect you. She knows both you and your mom have a lot of emotions invested in Lizzie—different emotions of course, but emotions nonetheless. And she knows that if you two had the conversation, those emotions could clash and cause an ugly scene. She wants you both to make peace with this.”

  “Mom has a lot to make peace with, but I don’t. This didn’t happen to me. And I understand why Mom would be so upset, but,” she thought about something she had said the night before to Will, “should something be hidden just because it’s tragic?”

  “I don’t know, honey.”

  A moment passed. Then Amy asked, “What about Lizzie and Billy? Did their relationship ever end?”

  “Ah, yes, back to that.” Again Eva’s eyes floated away from Amy as she thought through her words. “No, it didn’t. I know that she loved him until the very end. But any relationship that lasts over fifty years is going to be complex—and to classify their relationship as romantic, platonic, spiritual, emotional,” she shook her head, “I’ll never know what they had. Even when she was dying of cancer, we never spoke about what happened. I lost a piece of my sister when she went to New York. For years I thought I had lost that piece to Billy, and even at the end, I never got that piece back. We could never talk about that fateful trip—it was out of my reach.”

  Amy absorbed Eva’s words. “And despite everything that happened—despite having to raise your sister’s children and never getting an explanation, you forgave her.”

  “Raising your mother and her sisters was one of the most wonderful experiences of my life. Of course I wish that they could have been raised by their own mother—for their sake—but I loved every minute of it.” She paused, chosing her words carefully. “After the fire, we tried very hard to find Lizzie in New York. So did three private investigators. I needed to get her back home to her girls. But we couldn’t find her anywhere. We all knew that Billy had an enormous amount of money by that time and perhaps could have hidden her behind that money.” Eva’s face darkened. “And I was so mad at him for refusing to talk to us. But our inability to reach her has always given me pause. Even though investigations in the 1960s were nothing like they are today, it seemed like finding Lizzie in New York shouldn’t have been so difficult. After awhile I began to wonder if I hadn’t lost a piece of my sister to Billy but instead to something else. Something bigger. I just never knew what.”

  Amy collapsed backward on the bed and looked at the ceiling. “I wonder what happened.”

  Eva looked at her granddaughter. “She did come back years later. She came back, and she was devastated to hear what had happened. She had no idea—and I do believe she really had no idea. She never quite overcame her guilt. And she certainly didn’t know how to build a relationship with her children at that point. Soon she left again—and again, we didn’t know where she went.”

  “Nana,” Amy said through a deep breath. “It’s amazing that you forgave her even without knowing the whole story. I think I would have needed an explanation. I would have needed a reason to forgive her.”

  “She was my sister, Amy. That was reason enough. I didn’t know how she ended up a sad, emaciated woman dying in a gigantic house not even thirty minutes from here, and I didn’t care. She was my sister. My tragic, self-destructive sister. The only one I’ll ever have. When we were little girls, she and I practically shared the same heart—we were so close. When I was still fairly new to adulthood, her daughters filled my heart. And I’m sitting here with you, now, because of her. She continues to share my heart through you.” Eva paused. “My tragic, self-destructive sister. Her tragedies became the greatest blessings in my life. Not forgiving her would have become my fall from grace.”

  Amy nodded at the ceiling. After a moment, she said, “Do you really think my mom is coming around? Do you think she might be okay with me poking around Lizzie’s past?”

  “April’s pretty good at getting people to listen to her. I always thought she would have been a great lawyer.” Eva chuckled. “Maybe that’s why she’s such a good kindergarten teacher—she knows how to break everything down in such a simple, logical way. As for your mom—I think at this point you could talk to her about Lizzie. Cautiously.” Eva patted Amy’s leg again, this time as though to alter the course of the conversation. “Now you know as much as I do about Lizzie. And it’s time to stop looking backward and begin working on your own story.”

  THIRTY-FIVE

  “I

  ’m sorry about last night,” Amy said into the phone.

  Will laughed on the other end. “Don’t be. You were a lot of fun. You should get out more. I think it was good for you.”

  Amy smiled, “I just hope I didn’t do or say anything too stupid.”

  “I wouldn’t tell you even if you did. What are you up to?”

  “I just left Nana’s house,” she sighed. Stepping on her car’s brake, she slowed on approach to a stop sign and continued, “I have a five-minute drive home, and I’m certain Miles will be there waiting for me.”

  “You don’t sound excited about that.”

  “No,” Amy said. Her voice disappeared into thoughts she didn’t seem likely to share.

  “How was your visit with Eva?” Will asked.

  “It was good.” Amy looked in both directions before proceeding through the intersection. “She told me a lot—nothing particularly new—but still a lot of important stuff. I’m having a hard time wrapping my brain around it.”

  “You’ve got five minutes before you get home. Talk through it.”

  Amy tried to organize her thoughts. “Nana hired private investigators to find Lizzie after the house burned down, but no one could find her. They knew she had gone to New York, and they all suspected she had gone to find Billy. Even now, though, that’s never been confirmed. They tried contacting Billy directly, but he wouldn’t help them find her. And Lizzie never told Nana what happened during the years she was gone, but oddly, Nana was okay with that. She said that Lizzie’s greatest tragedies became her greatest blessings, meaning my mom and the rest of us. And because of that, she forgave Lizzie—for everything.” She paused, again slowing toward another stop sign. “I think I have a hard time understanding that kind of unconditional forgiveness.”

  Neither spoke for a moment.
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  “Maybe you do right now,” Will said, “but that’s because it’s never been tested in you. Just because you haven’t needed that kind of forgiveness in your life doesn’t mean you aren’t capable of it.”

  Amy hoped Will was right.

  “Part of me really wants to drive back to Monterey and ask Billy to tell me what happened in New York,” she said. “That’s the missing puzzle piece. Everyone has just assumed they know why she went there and what happened when she went there—but…” she couldn’t find the words to finish the sentence.

  “You think there’s more to it.”

  “Maybe. Nana said after awhile she started to think that she hadn’t lost Lizzie to Billy but instead to something else. Something bigger. And I think she might be right. Lizzie died a very wealthy woman. How did that happen? Nana doesn’t have that kind of money. If their parents took away Nana’s inheritance because she married Aidan, certainly they would have taken away Lizzie’s after she destroyed her family. Did Billy have a hand in that? Did he give it to her?” Amy tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “Nana said she didn’t know how Lizzie ended up a sad, emaciated woman dying in a huge house, and she didn’t care because they were sisters and no explanations were needed. But I need an explanation.” Slowly she continued driving toward the corner where she would turn onto her street.

  “I think you should go tell Billy that. He might turn you down flat, but he also might surprise you. He’s a strange old guy. But you need to try. You don’t want to look back and regret not trying.” When Will’s words were met with silence, he continued, “I’ll go with you—if you want.”

  “Thank you.” At the corner where she should have turned left toward her house, she turned right and headed toward the freeway. She thought about what waited for her at home, and she thought about what stood at the end of a long stretch of freeway before her. Her stomach felt raw with excitement and worry. “I think I want to do this on my own. And I need some time to think about everything.”