Christmas in Paris (A Master Chefs Series Standalone Novel)

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Christmas in Paris (A Master Chefs Series Standalone Novel) Page 4

by Kailin Gow


  “I’ll go fix you a snack,” Sam said. “You must be starving.”

  Errol simply stared at his feet beneath the thick down filled duvet that covered him. All the luxury that surrounded him meant nothing if Taryn wasn’t there to share it with him. He’d gladly give it all up, move to a shack in the country if only he could get her back.

  “Hey, don’t worry,” Leo said. “We’ll find her. I didn’t come all this way for nothing.”

  “How did you make it here so fast? I called you just an hour ago.”

  “Try several hours ago,” Leo said.

  “What?”

  “You’ve been out like a light, buddy. We’ve been watching over you all night, debating whether we should bring you to the hospital or not.”

  “Why should I go to the hospital?” Errol said just as he felt a sharp pang in the ribs.

  “I tried to get here as fast as I could,” Leo said. “But I didn’t make it on time. I arrived just as you received your final blow and fell unconscious to the floor.”

  “What do you mean? You were there? At the stadium?”

  “I tried to get there as soon as I could. The minute my plane landed, I tried to reach you but you wouldn’t answer. I figured things were probably a little more chaotic than I’d imagine, and, man, was I right. What a commotion. What a nightmare.”

  “I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

  “Hey, anything for a friend.”

  “How d’you find me at the stadium?”

  “I was able to track your location via your phone, and rushed to the stadium just in time to watch you fall under the feet of that crowd,” Leo said as he shook his head in disbelief. “I hate to think what could have happened to you if I hadn’t made it in time.” With a teasing grin, he patted himself on the back.

  “And what are those from?” Errol said, pointing to Leo’s scraped knuckles and bruised cheek.

  “Hey, you don’t rush into an evacuating crowd without having to pay for it with a few cuts and bruises.” He chuckled. “Seriously, I thought you would have known better. You had to know you’d get nowhere with that tactic.”

  “I wanted to find Taryn. I was desperate. I would have done anything.” He looked directly into Leo’s eyes. “I will do anything.”

  His grin faded and he looked solemnly at his friend. “I understand, but that was still a suicidal mission. As soon as you’re on your feet we’ll head out.”

  “She was there, Leo, at that stadium. She was there when the bomb went off. I met up with one of my former students who was at that football match with her. He lost sight of her in the crowd as they evacuated. She was there. She was there, and now she’s gone and I don’t know…” His voice cracked and he looked up to the ceiling, silently begging the powers that be to keep his wife safe.

  “Calm down,” Bobby said. “We’ll find her.”

  “Well, look, since you’ve been out things have calm down a bit. Paris isn’t back to normal yet, mind you, but it’s relatively calm.”

  “The city is in mourning.”

  “And in shock.”

  “How are you feeling?” Leo said. “You got hit in the head a few times.”

  “I’m fine. No dizziness. No headache. I’m just a little sore, that’s all.”

  “Okay, good. We can go and help you with the search once you’re up.”

  Errol pressed a grin. “I’m happy to see you guys. This is hell of the worst kind.”

  “It’s even worse than I imagined,” Leo said. “In addition to the stadium bombings and the shooting at the Bataclan, several restaurants were hit – drive by shooting style.”

  “What restaurants?” Errol said. He had a wide circle of friends who owned restaurants and dozens of his former students worked in them.

  “Casa Nostra, Le Carillon and Le Petit Cambodge. Fifteen were killed.”

  “Also Le Belle Equipe and Sushi Maki,” Bobby added. “Another nineteen killed.”

  “And a suicide bomber set himself off at le Comptoir Voltaire. Some were seriously injured there.”

  While he didn’t know the owners or employees of any of them, he closed his eyes to offer a quick prayer to all the victims. He couldn’t fathom the horror of having people killed in his restaurant.

  “How long have I been out?” he finally said.

  “All night and all morning.”

  “Shit. I’ve lost precious time.” He threw the sheet off of him and sat up, but was immediately hit with a dizzy spell. “Damn,” he muttered as he held his head. The blows to his head were more serious than he’d thought.

  “Yeah, slow down, buddy. You were trampled pretty badly,” Leo said. “So you do have a headache after all.”

  “Maybe, but that’s not going to stop me.”

  “You’re not going to be of any use to Taryn if you’re out of it.”

  Sam came rushing in with a bowl of thick hot soup and slices of crusty bread with melted cheese on top. “This will stick to your gut and get you up and out of that bed fast enough, you’ll see.”

  Errol tried to smile at his mother-in-law, who tried to smile herself. Her face was pale, emphasizing the dark bags under her bloodshot eyes. She probably hadn’t slept at all. As she set the lunch tray over his lap, he grabbed her trembling hand. “We’ll find her, Sam. I promise you, we’ll find her.”

  She nodded. “It’s beef and barley with tons of vegetables.”

  “Smells great,” he said softly.

  “And this is fresh bread with a good strong cheddar.” Her voice cracked and she could barely maintain eye contact with him.

  Out of respect for her, and a grumbling stomach, Errol ate, despite the lack of appetite. Each mouthful was delicious, and satisfied his empty belly, but was difficult to get down all the same. Funny how emotions could wreak havoc on the system, he thought. His gut was in knots and his throat wanted to seize up. He’d be lucky if he could get it all down without any of it coming back up.

  Without saying a word, Sam patted his calf through the thick duvet and left the room.

  “She went out early this morning, showing pictures of Taryn to anyone she passed,” Bobby said as he watched his mother close the door. “Even though she doesn’t understand a word of French, she could see in the faces of the people she stopped that they hadn’t seen Taryn but that they were sympathetic to her cause.”

  “She’s a strong woman.”

  “And so is Taryn,” Bobby said.

  Errol finished off the soup and bread and set the tray aside. “What’s our next move?”

  “Let’s hit the streets,” Leo said.

  “I already went to the hospital.” Bobby gagged suddenly and his eyes filled with tears as he shook his head. “Man. It’s a nightmare. A real nightmare. Dozens of people from Le Carillon and Le Petit Cambodge, and then dozens of kids from the Bataclan, but no sign of Taryn.”

  “And I went out to the police department. Nothing on her there either.”

  Errol got out of bed, and after steadying himself, he grabbed his pants and pulled them on then grabbed a shirt. “We’ll split up and scour the area around le Stade. You’ll take Villa Thierry, you’ll take rue du Progres, and I’ll go down Villa du Belair. Then we’ll move onto the next three streets and so on.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Bobby said.

  “The blasts were on rue Rimet,” Leo said. “We can have a look there, too.”

  “Good.” A question burned him, one he was reluctant to ask. He turned to the guys. “Were there any fatalities at the stadium?”

  Leo nodded. “I think I heard of four deaths.”

  “Shit.”

  “From what I heard, it was outside the stadium,” Bobby said. “Apparently the bombers weren’t able to get inside, so it’s unlikely Taryn was hurt if she was inside watching the game when they went off.”

  “But wasn’t there another detonation outside some twenty minutes later?” Leo said. “Were people on their way out by then?”

  “Either way,” Er
rol said as he went around the room picking up picture frames with photos of Taryn. “We’ll check it all out.”

  He handed Bobby a photo of Taryn sitting out on the terrace with the sun illuminating her face and one of her working at the restaurant to Leo. He kept the small wedding photo for himself and left the room.

  “We’ll find her,” Errol told Sam one last time as the trio boarded the elevator. The ride down to the parking garage was heavy with silence as was the drive out to St. Denis and the stadium. Killing the engine, Errol looked to Leo at his right and back to Bobby in the back seat. “We’ll start right here, where she was last seen.”

  They popped out of the car and headed to the guards on watch at the main entrance.

  “Ma femme,” Errol said, holding up Taryn’s picture. “Have you seen my wife?”

  The guard shook his head at first, then took a closer look at the photo.

  Errol’s heart skipped a beat. Had he seen her?

  “Un moment,” the guard said. He headed inside then returned with something in his hands. “We found this. The photo on the driver’s license looks like your wife.”

  Stunned, Errol stared at Taryn’s purse, the small brown leather Gucci purse she’d bought on their last shopping spree. “Yes, it’s her bag.” He grabbed it and rummaged through its content to find her phone. “That’s why she never answered.”

  “That’s all I have,” the guard said. “There’s no one left in the stadium.”

  Errol stifled a sob. “Thank you. Merci.”

  He turned back to the guys. “I guess we’ll start going up and down the surrounding streets. Ask whoever you see, and knock on doors. Someone somewhere has seen her.”

  For over hours they walked up one street and down another, widening the circle around the stadium, but every time they met up, the results were the same. Nothing.

  “We can go back to the hospitals,” Bobby said. “Maybe she’s been brought in since I last checked.”

  “We’ll start with St. Louis.”

  They packed back into the car and Errol drove back into Paris and pulled up to the curb as close to the hospital as he could get. After walking a few blocks, Errol said, “I’ll go inside and see if she’s there. You guys ask around outside.”

  Bobby and Leo nodded as Errol made his way inside.

  But the answer was the same. No one had seen her. No one fitting her description had been brought in. Back outside, he met up with the guys once more, his soul broken. “Nothing.”

  Bobby patted his shoulder. “Don’t give up, man. She’s out here somewhere.”

  Errol nodded, but his heart was heavy.

  “A few people told us that flowers, candles and photos are being laid out near Le Carillon,” Leo said. “We can go and ask around there.”

  “I heard about something like that at the Place de la République.”

  “Let’s go,” Errol said with growing pessimism.

  They made their way to the street that was filled with flowers and candles.

  “People are already laying memorials to the dead and wounded. I’ve heard talk of a vigil,” Leo said. “Tonight, I think.”

  “You know, back in the states a number of cities are walking in solidarity with Paris, showing their support,” Bobby added.

  They stopped when they came to a small group of young women crying as they set flowers down before a picture of a smiling young man.

  “I can’t believe my city has become so gloomy, so heavy with sorrow,” Errol said. “My home is being torn apart and I don’t know how to help it.”

  “Let’s concentrate on finding Taryn for now,” Bobby said.

  “Really? And how long do you think it will it be before I’m setting down flowers as well?” The thought hit him in the gut as the possibility struck him.

  “Don’t even say that,” Bobby said in anger. “We’ll find her.”

  Suddenly a shot rang out in the distance and people started screaming and running. The calm crowd, so eager to heal from the open wound, soon found itself panicked all over again.

  “Non! Non!” a young woman cried as she ran for her life. “Pas encore. Non!”

  In their panic, some ran right through the flowers and photos, knocking over candles with complete disregard for the memorials. All that mattered at that moment was getting away, and fast.

  “Not more shots,” Errol said as he watched the chaos take over the serene scene. “Not more shots.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” Leo said.

  Errol was about to argue, but the push of the crowd urged him forward. Only after a few blocks were they able to slow down and finally stop.

  After a while, word started filtering through; a false alarm. It’d simply been a firecracker.

  “Who in the world would set off a firecracker at a time like this?” Bobby said.

  “Some twisted mind who finds it amusing,” Errol said. Looking around, over the heads of the few people that dared come out on the streets, he prayed for Taryn to be among them. “She’s disappeared,” he finally said. “She’s not among the dead, not at the hospital… nowhere.”

  “We’ll try other hospitals, maybe even clinics. Maybe she just has minor injuries,” Leo said.

  “Then why doesn’t she call. Surely she’s found of a phone by now.” He couldn’t keep his eyes from darting from one face to another, seeking the familiar features he loved so much. Then it hit him. “Follow me.”

  “Where?” Bobby said as he fell in line behind Errol who’d already taken off.

  “To the television studio.”

  “The what?” Leo said.

  “Yeah, what do you want to do there?”

  “I’ll go on the air looking for her.”

  Chapter 5

  Taryn

  On opening her eyes, Taryn knew she wasn’t in her bed, in her home. Sitting up, she took in the pretty yellow curtains with blue flowers. The French country furniture was soft and feminine, with definite earthy tones that brought warmth to the room and added charm and elegance. Where was she?

  A small Louis XVI chair upholstered in checkered blue and yellow was pushed up to a small writing desk while a console held a tuft of bright yellow flowers in a short white vase. Above it, a small television set sat on a wood shelf that’d been painted white. The effect of the entire décor was delightful and cheery, bringing a smile to Taryn’s lips despite feeling entirely lost inside.

  A scent tickled to her nostrils; buttery, flaky… fresh pastry.

  If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought she was at a bed and breakfast, but snippets of the events of the previous night came trickling into her mind; the stadium, Henri, a bomb, a second, and then a third.

  She remembered the relatively calm evacuation of the stadium, and then a strange hand on her arm; an old man who guided her with such determination into an alley only to duck into a tiny door leading to a small, but tidy apartment that smelled of freshly baked goods.

  Shifting over, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and tried to stand, but her swollen limbs seemed incapable of holding her weight and she fell back on the soft, cushy mattress. She tried to look past her belly to her legs, but other than ten fat toes, she couldn’t see much of anything.

  As if the pregnancy hadn’t done enough to swell her limbs, the impromptu run out of the stadium had really added to the problem. They ached more than she would have thought possible.

  The door to the room creaked open and the older man’s daughter tiptoed in. “Oh,” she said, startled to see Taryn sitting up. “You are up! Papa will be so happy to hear that.” She came to the bedside table and set down a tray carrying a bowl of piping hot stew and a fresh buttery croissant. “Eat while I go get Papa.”

  “Merci,” was all Taryn could say.

  “Papa!” the young woman called out as she headed to the door. “Papa, elle est reveillé. Papa, elle est…” Her quietly excited voice faded behind the closed door.

  Taryn looked at the food, wondering
if she dared eat. Her stomach felt queasy at best and she doubted any of it would stay down.

  “I heard you, Lisbeth,” the old man said as he opened the door and barged in with Lisbeth close behind him. “I heard you.” He turned to Taryn. “So, I hear you are up. Good. Good. It’s good news. I hope you know how lucky you are; how lucky we are. Things could have turned out so horribly. Are you feeling well?”

  “Not bad, I guess. My legs are pretty swollen and sore. All that running…”

  “I am sorry I made you run, but… A pregnant lady… and by yourself. I had to get you out of there, right?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Taryn said, remembering how she thought Henri was close by but had been separated from her during the rush out. “Thank you.”

  “I was starting to think I should bring you to the hospital, but they are already so busy taking care of injured people from the shootings. You had been out for a while. I was going to give you another few hours and then, I bring you, busy hospital or no.”

  “Injured? Were there many?”

  “More… so much more than there should ever be.” The old man shook his head. Such a peaceful day for friends and family to attend a game or go out to enjoy the day only to end in tragedy and terror.

  Taryn’s stomach dropped as she realized the stadium was a mere part in the extent of the attacks. “How bad is it?

  Lisbeth made her way to the small television set on the shelf. “I have listened to radio and tv all night, all morning. It’s so awful.” She flicked the television on.

  The first image was that of police officers at the Bataclan with shots heard in the background, then a shot of the sports fans at le Stade de France flooding the field in confusion. Taryn saw in their eyes the fear she’d felt as she’d made her way out.

  Realizing now that the event she attended was part of an orchestrated terror attack against Paris, brought tears to her eyes. It was like 9/11 all over again. Taryn, who lived in New York all her life until she married Errol, was brought back to the horrible day in world history that changed the innocence of the world. September 11, 2001. She was a child then at age 10 or 11, but she remembered how devastated and lost the people of New York felt when commercial planes that were hijacked crashed into the Twin Towers.

 

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