She’d never waited like this with any other lover. Always she’d brought them to her bed upon their arrival. Of course, they’d been experienced lovers, eager to please. Again and again.
In the dark comfort of his bed Reuben refused to admit that he couldn’t fall asleep—refused to accept that he was waiting with anticipation for his door to open, waiting for the invitation to go to Mickey’s bed.
In his first restless sleep he dreamed he was running around the room in his skivvies. Mickey was laughing, mocking him, calling him a boy, a little boy. The dream passed. A little before dawn he reached out and grasped the deep restful sleep his body desperately needed.
Reuben woke at noon, crawled from beneath the covers, and noticed that a fire had been started in the fireplace at the foot of his bed, that the room was warm and cozy as well as luxurious. A ewer of hot water had been prepared and left for him to wash and shave. Ready to face the day, he assumed an attitude of nonchalance when he descended the stairs to search for Daniel. Both his friend and Madame Mickey were seated in a small alcove off the dining hall, talking quietly over coffee. A breakfast setting had been put out for him, he noticed, but the others were finished eating.
“Did you sleep well. Reuben?” Mickey asked, concern in her voice.
He smiled. “I think I had the best night’s sleep I’ve had since leaving the States. How did you sleep, Daniel?”
“Very well, and I think I’ve just put a big dent in Mickey’s larder. Wonderful breakfast. Don’t look so disapproving. Mickey asked me to call her by her first name. We’re not being formal.”
“But, of course, you must also call me Mickey. All my good friends ignore my title. It is of little importance. Only bank accounts are important in France. Now, what will you have for breakfast?”
“Eggs?” Reuben asked hopefully.
“And ham and sweet rolls and fresh juice. Fresh fruit also, if you like. We must have you healthy again,” she said, smiling. She rang the bell, speaking rapidly in French when the maid appeared. Minutes later, a platter of golden eggs and pink ham stared up at him, accompanied by sweet rolls dripping with creamery butter. He gulped the refreshing juice and didn’t question the miracle of fresh fruit in a war zone.
“I’m pleased, so pleased,” Mickey said. “You’ve both slept well, you’ve eaten a hearty breakfast, and now you’re going to rest. I must leave you darlings for a short while. I’m off to Marseilles. I’m certain you can find ways to amuse yourselves. I’ll return before dinner. We’ll have time to talk then. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
Both men stood. Reuben made a grimace that passed for a smile. Daniel grinned. Mickey called over her shoulder, “If you wish to brave the outdoors, ask Nanette for warm coats. Don’t get chilled.” Then she was gone, and all that remained of her was the scent of her perfume. Reuben rang the bell for a second cup of coffee. Daniel held his cup aloft for a refill.
“Tell me, how was last night, Reuben? Not details,” he said, flushing a rosy red. “Was it good? Did…did you make her happy? What was it like with her? Where did you spend the night?”
Reuben was tempted to lie, but he didn’t. “I spent the night in my own bed, alone. Nothing happened. I’d tell you if there was anything to tell.”
“But I thought…nothing?” Daniel exclaimed.
“Nothing,” Reuben affirmed. “I’ll tell you the truth. In a way I was relieved and in some way I was disappointed. Now, can we drop the subject? I know you’re itching to get into the library, so let’s do that first. I’ll read off the titles, but you aren’t to try to do any reading yet, agreed?” Daniel nodded happily. An entire room filled with books. What could be better?
Across the foyer from the drawing room they found the library. The tall windows allowed daylight to spill into the room, illuminating every corner. The room was cold, no fire had been laid in the hearth, but it was cozy despite the temperature. Leather chairs and chaises and small tables with reading lamps, a massive desk near the glass-paned doors leading to a small garden outside, and a dark Turkish carpet were all the furnishings necessary. The vaulted atmosphere was created by ceiling-high bookshelves, each holding a burden of leather-bound books, their spines lettered in gold. There were books in several languages, but Reuben was happy to note that an entire section had been devoted to English.
Daniel came to a dead stop in front of one shelf.
“Reuben,” he faltered.
“What is it, Daniel?”
“I…even close up, I…can’t make out the letters. I’m scared. I thought I’d be able to see better today than yesterday.” He tried to hide the quavering in his voice, the trembling of his hands. How he hated feeling this way! He was supposed to be a man now and accept things that couldn’t be changed.
“It…your eyes will be fine,” Reuben assured him. “It was exactly the same for me, too. I kept thinking I’d end up selling pencils on a street corner. Don’t forget our eyes were burned. It will ease, I’m telling you. Just don’t forget to use your eye drops. I just wish there were something I could do to make it easier for you.”
“Why? Who was there to make it easier for you? You had to go through it alone. If you could, then so can I,” said Daniel.
“That’s the right attitude. But you’re wrong. I did have someone. Madame Mickey kept me sane, kept me hopeful. She talked to me for hours, she made me believe I would see. The will is half the battle she would say. It wasn’t just me she encouraged, either. I’m very grateful to her.”
“When did she get smitten with you, Reuben? You never told me.”
Reuben laughed ruefully. “I don’t know that she is smitten with me. She talked to me for hours about her life with her husband. She said I was a good listener. She loves life. I can’t pick a time, really. One day she came up to my bunk, we talked of ordinary things, and then she invited me, just like that.”
“How did she find out about me?”
Reuben grinned. “From me, of course. I asked her to check on you and let me know how you were doing. Every day she brought me a report on your progress.”
“She could have invited anyone, Reuben. Anyone! She picked us. I hope she’s right about the war being over soon.”
“I hope so, too. I’ve had enough, we’ve given enough. I want to put this war behind me and go on. With or without Mickey’s help.”
Reuben wasn’t ready to discuss the Mickey issue further, not even with Daniel. He hadn’t figured it out in his own head yet. All he knew was whatever happened, however it had happened, he and Daniel were now a team. With will and motivation, he would succeed one way or another. Daniel would ultimately get to law school, that much was definite. “Why don’t I put a record on the phonograph for you,” he offered. “You can sit here and rest your eyes. You’ve been up for a few hours now, so you should have some compresses for at least an hour. What do you say?”
“Fine with me. What will you do meantime?”
Reuben smiled. Daniel’s anxiety was something they were both going to have to deal with. One way or another he had to wipe away Daniel’s fear, but he didn’t know how…yet. Maybe as Daniel’s eyesight improved, his confidence would return. “First I’ll go outside and get some air. Walk around this little country house and see how it looks from the outside. Then—hey, how much of the house have you taken in so far? Did Mickey show you around this morning?”
“Just as much as you, I guess. She was waiting for me when I came downstairs and took me right in for breakfast. Why?”
“Good! Then I’ll reconnoiter while you’re resting and report back with the details of my mission. Okay?”
When Reuben returned an hour later he found Daniel stretched out on the leather sofa with his slippers off and his feet propped on cushions. His good arm lay across the cast of the other, and for one crazy moment Reuben thought he was dead. Daniel stirred at the sound of his footsteps.
“Reuben?”
“Yes.”
“How long have you been gone?”
/> “Only an hour.”
“It seems longer.”
“Yes. Keep the compresses on a few minutes more,” he urged when his friend began to rise. “It’s not as though you have somewhere to go. They help, so keep them on as long as you can tolerate them.” Did his voice sound as paternal to Daniel as it did to himself? He burst out laughing when Daniel spoke.
“Yes, Father. I know you mean well. That’s how a father would sound, isn’t it, Reuben? Since I never had one, I have to rely on stories I’ve heard and my books.”
“I wasn’t trying to sound paternal. Brotherly, perhaps. As little as I can recall, my own father wasn’t a man of many words. Months went by and he hardly spoke to me.”
“Do you know how often I wished I had parents? I mean, I had them, but I don’t know who they are. I kept thinking all the time we were at the front that if I died there wouldn’t be anyone to send the telegram to. That thought was terrible. To come over here and fight and die and be buried or left somewhere in the trenches to rot and no one would care.”
“Yes, but neither of us has to worry about that now. We’re alive and we buried our savagery back there in the trenches. I didn’t save your life for you to fret and stew about yesterday. It’s behind us, Daniel.”
“Did I ever thank you, Reuben? You know what I mean—a real thank-you? Someday I’m going to be able to thank you properly. I know you think I’m just a dumb green kid, and I guess I am. I’ll grow up, though.”
Reuben let his shoes scuff the carpet. To cover his embarrassment, he lit a cigarette and put it in Daniel’s hand and then took one for himself. “Someday I’ll take the thanks out of your hide,” he joked gruffly. For some reason the words didn’t sound like a joke when he uttered them. To cover his confusion, he asked, “Well, do you want to hear about what I saw or not?” He placed a little crystal ashtray on Daniel’s chest.
“First I walked through the house. I counted twelve rooms, and that doesn’t include where the servants sleep—that’s a separate wing. They have four rooms off the kitchen. There’s a lot of color here. Color makes a difference somehow. I never gave it much thought before, but it can make something look big or small. It’s amazing, Daniel. The furniture is kind of spindly, as you know, fragile-looking, but I tested out a couple of the chairs and they hold my weight just fine. I saw furniture like this in a moving picture once, it was about the French Revolution and the women wore these high white wigs.” Reuben knew that Daniel liked details.
“There are mirrors everywhere. Over the fireplaces, over little tables lining the hallways, like the one over that long piece of furniture in the dining room, I think I heard Mickey call it a buffet last night. And there are paintings, and the walls are all covered in tapestry where they’re not painted with hunting scenes like in the foyer, and countrysides and, get this, some kind of goddesses with their breasts exposed and men with all their equipment hanging out in this room that’s big enough to hold a ball—band and all!”
Daniel was impressed. “I hadn’t realized it was so big. Imagine one person having twelve rooms all to herself.”
“Mickey didn’t always live alone. She said they entertained a lot, and most of the rooms are bedrooms. Almost every room has a fireplace. There are hundreds of little statues and dishes and bowls full of Mickey’s flowers, and draperies. Maybe they’re junk, maybe they’re treasures. I don’t know. There’re oil paintings everywhere. Every one is signed.”
“Are they beautiful?”
“I guess so. They’re just pictures to me. There’s a sunrise and one with ladies in a garden and another of two naked ladies lying side by side. They didn’t make me want to hurry out and buy a paintbrush, if that’s what you mean. Besides, I’d be lucky if I could draw a straight line.”
Daniel chuckled. He couldn’t wait to go around the house on his own when his eyes were better to see how apt his friend’s descriptions were. “What else?”
“Mickey and her husband must have loved clocks. There’s one or two in every room. For as long as we’re here we’ll know what time it is every second of the day. I walked through the kitchen and my mouth watered. Good smells in there, Daniel. Dinner tonight is going to be tasty again. I checked out the wine cellar and it’s stocked to the brim. There’s a root cellar and a storehouse as well as a dairy. Madame Mickey could feed a division of men if she wanted. We’ll never starve, I can tell you that!”
“How rich do you think she is?”
“I think the lady has more money than you or I can ever dream of having. The Fonsard Wineries are the largest in all of France. At the clinic she used to talk about shipping their wines to the States. Maybe when the war is over she will. We really stepped into it, Daniel.”
“Is there a stable? I’ve always liked horses. Actually, I like all animals. Someday I’m going to get myself a dog. Not one of those squeaky little things, either. I want one that howls and barks and craps where it shouldn’t. I want it to beg for food and lick my face and come when I call it. Someday,” Daniel mused softly. So many somedays. Would they ever come?
“You got a name for this mutt, too?” Reuben laughed. “Male or female?”
Daniel snorted. “A boy dog, of course. I’ll call him Jake, after my best friend at the orphanage. Well, he was my best friend before someone took him to work in their factory. I really missed him. I think about him a lot and wonder if he signed up when I did.”
Something pricked at Reuben, something he couldn’t identify at first. And then he had a name for it: jealousy. Daniel had never mentioned Jake until now. Here he was going to name his dog after this fellow. Well, he’d go Daniel one better: he’d get the dog for him. It would be his flesh-and-blood gift, more important than a silly name.
When he began to describe the exterior of the château to Daniel, he forced a lightness he didn’t feel into his voice. “It looks smaller than it really is from the road because the major part of the house is in the back. Reminds me of a fairy-tale house; you’d almost expect gnomes and elves to come running out. The roof is tiled, real clay tiles, those half-round gray ones. And most of the windows are stained glass, the top of them anyway. That’s another thing—when the sun shines through them there’s a rainbow in the room. And some of the windows have designs on them. We couldn’t see them last night when we drove up, but the entrance leading to the house has huge stone columns that have frescoes on them. See, I know that word because Mickey uses it. They’re kind of weathered and the paint is peeling, but they’re still elegant-looking. In the spring, flowers and rosebushes must surround the house. I didn’t look in the greenhouses yet. Well, that’s it, Daniel. Someday I’m going to have a house like this. I’ll call it my summer home, just like the Vanderbilts and Rockefellers I read about in the newspapers back home. I’ll pattern the house after this one. I can smell money here, pal. And when you have money, you have power. I think that’s what I want more than the money, but they go hand in hand. Power! I even like the sound of the word.”
Daniel flinched under his compresses. The reaction rose from a combination of things. First was the intensity in Reuben’s voice. Daniel believed that Reuben would indeed be powerful someday. Wealthy and powerful, an awesome combination. But the second reason was personal: his life was in Reuben’s hands, and his friend’s words served to bring everything he had been thinking about right out into the open.
The truth was, Daniel had never before slept in a room such as the one he had slept in last night. Large, luxurious, and, best of all, private—the fact that it was all his made him want to run back upstairs and look at it and touch it to make sure it was real. He was overwhelmed by the sumptuous environment Reuben had just described. Mickey was a dream come true for both of them, but to Daniel she was truly the angel he had heard about, more nurturing and generous and bountiful than he could ever have imagined.
It was a miracle being in this house, and when his eyes were closed he was desperate to open them again and feast on his surroundings. With all his heart
and soul, he hoped that Reuben knew what he was doing.
The road back to where he came from rose eerily in his mind. It was studded with places like his spare cot in the barrackslike dormitory of the orphanage, the deathly lonesome, seemingly eternal holidays he had endured there, in the place where he had felt utterly lost from God’s eyes. From there he’d moved even further, into the black hole of the war…. The thoughts began to paralyze him with sadness, especially now that he was finally experiencing the real thing: a home.
Chapter Three
Mickey returned home after the shroud of evening had fallen. She came in like a whirlwind, chattering easily about her day. “Beastly, darlings, the trip was beastly, but I had to do it. Now my time is yours for the next few days. More rest for you today, but tomorrow I will begin your French lessons. We will play chess and bridge, and if you don’t know how to play, I am here to teach you. You, in turn, will teach me to play poker and roll the dice. I have always wanted to learn. Now I wish to get out of these heavy clothes and into something more comfortable. I will be back almost before I am gone and we’ll have a spicy drink before the fire. You will tell me what you did today and I will tell you what I did.” Seconds later she was out of the room, her perfume lingering behind her as always.
For nine days, each evening was the same as the one before. On the tenth, Reuben decided he was annoyed. Not by so much as a look or touch did Mickey let her intentions be known. Somehow he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t measuring up, that somewhere along the way he’d become a disappointment to his benefactress. He wished he knew when and where she had decided that she didn’t want him after all so he could go back and try to analyze it. Madame Mickey was a beautiful, sensuous woman, generous of heart and sweet of nature. And he wanted her.
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