He hugged her and said, "I'm sorry I dragged you into all that. I wasn't thinking too clearly. Here I am, having a ball dodging traffic, and you're scared to death. I am sorry. I should have my head examined."
"At least you caught me before I hit the bricks, face first," Honey said. "I'm always surprised by how strong you are. If you hadn't grabbed me, I would not be sitting here talking to you. Those crazy drivers would have run me over a dozen times."
She took a couple deep breaths and looked up at the blue sky as she started getting herself back together. "No, I won't think about how close I came to meeting my maker. I think I'll just be grateful to my knight in shining armor for saving me on the streets of Paris, France," she said in a Southern drawl.
Then, she turned serious and said, "You know what's good about us, Leonard?"
"I know a bunch of things."
"No, what's good about us is when one of us gets down the other one always seems to be up. We're a good team that way. We balance each other out. It's not always me who has to be strong. All my years with the doctor, rest his soul, it was always me who had to take the lead. I mean, he was the boss at his work, but when he came home, it was always me who had to make the rest of our lives happen. With you, it's just . . . I don't know. We seem to do things together."
Leonard took her hand and kissed it. He seemed lost in thought.
"What?"
"It's odd you should talk about your marriage like that," he said. "You know, I loved my wife dearly, but I swear that woman never took the lead on anything, especially after our daughter died. Even cooking. She was a great cook but she always asked what I wanted and then she made it. I'm glad it's not like that for us. We're a team. Don't you think it's perfect we're getting a second chance to work things out?"
"Yes, I do, Mr. Atkins. Yes, I do," Honey said, standing up. "Now let's go see that eternal flame you've been talking about."
Five
THREE SEPARATE FORCES were in pursuit of Honey and Leonard by the time they were dancing and dodging traffic in the streets of Paris.
Gretchen Atkins, Leonard's niece and Power of Attorney, hired a private investigator out of Indianapolis named Adam Wolfe. She paid Wolfe a $10,000 retainer from Leonard's checking account and let the investigator know there was more where that came from. Wolfe was on a plane to Paris the day after Honey and Leonard's departure.
It took two days for Maria Gomez from Adult Protective to convince the FBI to put an agent on the case. That didn't have any immediate impact on the chase. The agent soon realized the French police would be no help at all in locating the elderly lovebirds in flight. In fact, once The Chicago Tribune reported Honey and Leonard had fled to France, the French news media picked up the story in a big way. Honey and Leonard were front-page news in the newspapers and breaking news on television and radio. French readers and viewers and listeners were cheering for the elderly couple, laughing at the fools in the U.S.A. who were trying to capture them. It took a week for the French police to get motivated and that was only after the press started making fun of them and calling for the Pink Panther to get on the case.
The third force after Honey and Leonard was the reporter who made their love story front-page news in the first place, Jack Crumbo of The Chicago Tribune. Never, in his twenty-five years of reporting, had one of his stories caught fire like this one. It was old folks in love. It had elder law and criminal consequences. And now it had an international chase scene adding fuel to the fire.
Any new angle he could come up with was making headlines across the nation and flooding his publication with reader response. After breaking the story and developing sources through several trips to Honey and Leonard's hometown, he was the recognized expert on North Manchester, Indiana, and its most intriguing couple.
Television reporters were interviewing Crumbo about every aspect of the case, particularly the alleged poisoning of Leonard and the no-contact order against Honey. Two publishers and an agent called about possible book deals. Someone from The American Association of Retired Persons offered him a job. Even so, it took Crumbo two days to convince The Tribune to fly him to France. The paper was so cheap they made him take vacation days and only paid his round-trip flight and $75 a day for expenses.
* * *
It hadn't taken long for Honey's Attorney, Robert Nimmo, to take his case to the press. Nimmo had been a newspaper reporter before law school, so he knew it would be best to give an "exclusive" to the guys who buy ink by the barrel. He met Jack Crumbo of The Chicago Tribune at a North Manchester park on the day of Honey and Leonard's unscheduled departure. They got acquainted with an introductory chat about journalism and how it was going to hell in modern times. Then, the attorney got right to the point.
"The first thing you need to know," Nimmo said, "is Honey did not poison Leonard."
"Everybody tells me that," Crumbo said, "but nobody can prove it. Gretchen Atkins keeps waving those blood tests with high arsenic levels in everybody's face."
"Okay, we're off the record, right?" Nimmo asked.
"Right."
"This is strictly confidential?"
"Absolutely."
"Good," Nimmo said. "Because here it is. Proof that Honey did not poison Leonard."
Crumbo was all ears.
"I've got a good friend who's a forensic pathologist. I've hired him on the case, and he knew right away what it was."
"What 'what' was?"
"He said the high levels of arsenic in Leonard's blood are most probably the result of his life as a farmer."
"I don't get it."
"Yes, you do. Farmers spend their life around pesticides. In the old days, the pesticides were loaded with arsenic. That's why Leonard has arsenic in his blood. Not because anybody tried to poison him."
"Whoa. That's a hell of a story, right there," Crumbo said. "I'll have to get my own pathology source since I can't quote you. That shouldn't be too hard. How long until your guy can go public with this?"
"It's going to take a while, weeks probably, maybe months. Getting the blood from Maria Gomez and Adult Protective will be tougher than stealing Dracula's midnight snack."
"Why not just take Leonard's blood?" Crumbo asked.
Nimmo looked at him to make sure he wasn't joking. "You mean you don't know?"
"Know what?"
"Honey and Leonard left town last night, early this morning. The sheriff called me a couple hours ago, looking for them. Now, I'm hearing the cops stopped them on the highway late last night and let them go because they didn't realize they were on the run."
"Holy shit," Crumbo said. "Where are they now?"
"I'm not sure. I heard something about a flight to Paris, but you'd better check that out with the sheriff."
"Paris, as in France?"
"You got it. Evidently, they got tired of being kept apart in Indiana."
"What about the protective order?" Crumbo asked as he prepared to make a hasty departure.
"Honey is in clear violation if she's with him. It's a D Felony in Indiana, up to three years in jail. They charge it as Invasion of Privacy."
"What about Leonard?"
"Leonard's not doing anything wrong. The protective order is against her seeing him, not him seeing her. All he's doing is allegedly getting kidnapped and that's not a crime."
Crumbo couldn't believe the scoop he was getting. He asked flurries of questions and took copious notes before he had to leave to confirm the outrageous story. As he was heading toward his car, he asked Nimmo, "Why didn't you stop them?"
"They never told me they were leaving. All of a sudden, they were just gone. They left before I could get them news about why the arsenic was in his blood."
* * *
It didn't take long for Adam Wolfe, Gretchen's investigator, to connect with the taxi driver who had transported Honey and Leonard to their hotel in Paris. Wolfe was confident that tracking down an elderly couple would be child's play for him after his twenty years as a homicide detective in
several different cities.
Upon landing in Paris, he hired the first attractive, bilingual woman he met and paid her enough to have her quit her job at one of the airport bars on the spot. Wolfe and his new employee interviewed taxi drivers at the airport and found their man within two hours. He recognized Honey and Leonard by the photos he was shown.
The driver accepted Wolfe's $150 bribe and proceeded to drop off the investigator and his interpreter at the wrong hotel on the opposite side of town. This would be the first of many bum steers Wolfe would get from people who had been charmed by Honey and Leonard's story and instinctively wanted to protect them.
By the time Wolfe suspected the taxi driver had misled him, he also realized the driver might have been pretending to recognize Honey and Leonard in order to make some easy money.
The investigator called back to Indianapolis from a pay phone to have his office do a credit card check on Honey and Leonard. Gretchen had provided him all the necessary account numbers and information. No Paris charges popped up. Honey was paying cash for everything.
Wolfe and his interpreter, Simone, began the tedious process of checking out all the hotels in Paris. It didn't take long for them to realize they had much in common. This was Paris and neither of them had a significant other. Simone was 15 years younger than the 50-year-old Wolfe. She was blonde and vivacious and athletic. By the fourth hotel, she was beginning to remind him of a French movie star whose name he couldn't remember. Before he knew what was happening, the investigator was becoming more interested in chasing Simone than he was in completing his assignment.
* * *
Honey and Leonard set out walking from the Arc De Triomphe to The Louvre but ended up taking a cab. Honey could tell Leonard's feet were starting to bother him. He never complained, he just walked more slowly.
The ride was a welcome relief for her as well. They'd been running around Paris like a couple of teenagers on Spring break. Once the novelty of being in France began to wind down, the jet lag started taking its toll. They'd only slept a few hours in the last two days.
The back seat of the cab smelled delicious to her, like Cognac and good cigars and French bread. The city of light and love rolled by in a kaleidoscope of statues and flowers and famous paintings come to life.
"Everything feels so bright and colorful," she cooed as she put her head on Leonard's shoulder.
"This is even better than I thought," Leonard agreed. "The whole street is one big art show. Look, there's a statue every twenty yards. Some are modern and crazy and others look like they're three hundred years old."
Honey caught the driver staring at them in the rear view mirror. "We love your city almost as much as we love each other," she said.
The driver laughed and began giving them detailed descriptions of the sights along the way. It didn't matter that he spoke little English or that he usually despised American tourists. Honey and Leonard were lighting up the back seat of his cab.
The Frenchman became most animated when they came upon the Luxor Obelisk in the center of Place de la Concorde. Somehow, he communicated that the 23-meter erection of yellow granite had been imported from Egypt in the 1830's.
"It reminds me of you," Honey chuckled.
"On a good day," Leonard laughed, "with some help from you."
The driver drove them around the Tuileries Gardens and chatted excitedly about its centuries of history and unparalleled public beauty. Honey and Leonard marveled at his smooth, French accent and apparent depth of knowledge but they decided not to walk the gardens. The cab was too perfectly comfortable.
Upon arrival at the Louvre, Honey managed to pay and tip the driver in the French francs she had exchanged earlier. "This is like funny money," she joked as she joined Leonard and folded the artistic bills back into her neck pouch.
Leonard was staring in disbelief at the glass and metal pyramid that had nearly taken over the classic French architecture of the world's most famous art museum. I.M. Pei's Louvre Pyramid, surrounded by three smaller, glass pyramids, completely dominated the courtyard. Honey gasped in disbelief as she took in the object of modern art.
"It looks like aliens have landed," Leonard said.
"What on God's green earth have they done?" Honey asked.
"They've ruined everything. That's plain to see."
"Now, Leonard, let's not be old fuddy-duddies."
The cab driver, seeing their shoulders sag in disappointment, got out of the car to agree with them in no uncertain terms. He pointed at the modern structure and held his nose and spit on the pavement. He looked at Honey and Leonard and shrugged his shoulders as if to apologize on behalf of the people of France. Then his expression lightened and he said, "c'est la vie," as he got back in his car and drove away.
"You must have tipped the hell out of that guy," Leonard laughed.
"I don't know how much I gave him but it was at least twice the price of the ride. He was so nice."
"Brutal art critic."
"I love the way they say 'c'est la vie.' What, exactly does that mean?" she asked.
"It means, 'That's life.' And I'm glad you asked because that's about the only French I know."
Honey threw her arms around him and hugged for all she was worth. "You know a lot about the world for a farm boy from Indiana."
"You know more than me," he said as he squeezed her back.
The two lovers savored their embrace at the center of the world's art. Honey finally broke the silence and said, "You know, that new art in front of the old building is a little like you and me."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, we're old, like the buildings, but we're new together, like the glass pyramid."
"I hope we don't look as stupid as that thing."
"Some people think old folks falling in love is ridiculous," Honey said. "They don't understand love. They think it's for young people. They think love has to have perfect skin and sexy, short dresses. They think old people should just get out of the way and die. They don't seem to realize that, one day sooner than they think, they'll be as old as us. And it's been so long since most of them have been in love that they forget how wonderful it feels."
Leonard held her as she continued, "You know, I'm not sure I was ever really in love until I met you. I mean, I loved the doctor. He was tall and had broad shoulders and he was smart. But I think I was more in love with the idea of being a good wife than I was with him as a lover. That's when we were young and trying to have children. We tried everything but nothing worked. The doctors told us everything seemed fine, but for some reason, we never had children. We never talked about adoption. I don't know if having children would have been good or bad for us. I burned way too many dinners waiting for him to come home late from the hospital."
"I never felt the way I feel now," Leonard said, helping her change the topic. "Running away to Paris with you feels like we've died and gone to heaven. Everything has a warm, rosy glow to it. My heart feels like it could bust right out of my chest. When I look in your eyes . . . "
"What?" Honey cooed as she took his hands in hers.
"I feel young again."
"This is better than feeling young," Honey said. "I never knew what to do when I was young. I was always worried about making a mistake. Now, I know what I've been missing."
"What?"
"Being in love with you."
"You know, now that I think of it," Leonard laughed, "maybe that glass pyramid doesn't look so bad. At least it's something new. It's interesting. And it sure isn't keeping people away from the museum. Look at that line of people waiting to get in. It curves around and loops. It must be a three-hour wait."
"That line is not for us," Honey said. "I've waited in enough lines for one lifetime."
Honey and Leonard walked down to the Seine River to begin their hike to the Notre Dame Cathedral. Fighting crowds at the Louvre seemed pointless when the entire city felt like a giant art museum. The Pont Royal with its five elliptical arches connected the Ri
ght Bank with the Left Bank. Open-air boats floated down the river with eager tourists pointing at everything they saw. The city itself was an objet d'art.
Despite the scenery, the intrepid couple was getting tired of walking by the time they crossed the ancient Pont Neuf to reach the island heart of medieval Paris. People kept pointing them in the direction of Notre Dame and saying it wasn't much further. It seemed to take forever to get there. Finally, they walked around a corner and there it was, in all its glory, the Notre Dame Cathedral.
Ornate, Gothic arches supported sharply sloped roofs beneath a towering spire, populated by greening copper statues of the twelve apostles. Honey and Leonard craned their necks in awe. They were no longer tired.
"I feel like I'm walking back in time," Honey said as they began to stroll around the bell towers and gargoyles and flying buttresses.
"I am Quasimodo," Leonard said.
"What?"
"Quasimodo, The Hunchback of Notre Dame. It's a classic novel by Victor Hugo. I always identified with the hunchback. He had to stay in the church and ring the bells. It was like me having to always work the farm. He falls in love with Esmeralda, a gypsy street dancer. You are my Esmeralda."
"Wait a minute, big boy. I read the book too. Esmeralda falls in love with the soldier and ends up getting herself executed. She could never love Quasimodo because he was too ugly. I don't want to be her."
"I should know better than to underestimate you," Leonard said. "Who would know you're such an expert on Victor Hugo? To tell you the truth, I don't remember much about the book except the hunchback ringing the bells. That, and I always wanted to see this place. Now that I'm here, it feels even bigger and better than I imagined all these years. Usually, you go places and they don't turn out to be as good as you thought they'd be. This place is way better than the book."
"You know," Honey said, "The more I think about it, the more I would be honored to be your Esmeralda. Having you love me is all I need. I'm just glad you're not a hunchback."
"Perfect," Leonard said. "But you know there's a little hunchback in each and every one of us."
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