“I know what you mean. But shouldn’t you be saying all this of Reuben?” she asked guilelessly.
“Reuben is not Daniel. Yes, Reuben would come if I were in trouble and sitting in that rocking chair by the fire. The difference is I would never ask him. It is something I could not do. You see, chérie, I would not want him to see me old and wrinkled. That is a secret between women, a confidence I share with you. You will not share this with anyone else, chérie.”
“No,” Bebe said honestly. To grow old and wrinkled had to be the most awful thing in the world. Already there were lines around Mickey’s eyes and a slight droop to the sides of her mouth in the corners. Her own skin was fresh and supple without a trace of a line or blemish. She had youth and resiliency while Mickey had middle age and wrinkles. There simply wasn’t any comparison.
The ride to Yvette and Henri Simone’s farm was made silently, each woman busy with her own thoughts.
It was a beautiful little farm, and Bebe loved it at first sight. She tried to liken it to her home in California and then to the château, but it was completely different in every way. For the first time she realized that she wasn’t in the least homesick for California or her friends. Once in a while she thought about Eli, but the only time she missed her father was when she didn’t get her own way about something.
“Here he is, your little Jake. He can leave his mother any time you are ready, chérie,” Yvette said cheerfully.
Bebe bent down to scoop the round ball of fur into her arms. The puppy nuzzled its head against her, its little pink tongue lapping at her cheek. He felt so warm, so good to hold. “Daniel is going to love you, little Jake. He is going to be beside himself with happiness.” She cuddled the puppy closer and sighed happily. “I can hardly wait to see his face when he sees you.” She’d never given a present this meaningful, and she loved what she was feeling. She wished there were something just as wonderful to give Reuben and Mickey. But her heart told her this was a one-time offering, something she’d probably never do again for anyone. Daniel was special to her and Jake was her gift to him, one she was giving from her heart. “You’re special, Jake, just as special as Daniel. Please make him happy,” Bebe crooned.
Yvette nudged Mickey. “Did you ever see anything more precious?” she whispered. “Already she is in love with our puppy and she has to give him away. She must be very fond of Daniel.”
Mickey’s heart fluttered. She, too, was stunned at the look on Bebe’s face. If Reuben could see her now…“What did you say, Yvette?” Mickey asked fretfully.
“Henri will bring…Jake on Christmas Eve and leave him in the barn after dark to be sure the surprise isn’t given away.” Yvette chuckled. “He will travel with a hot water bottle and a little clock to remind him of his mama. For the first few days only.”
Mickey smiled. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Because, Michelene, you have other things on your mind.” Yvette winked knowingly, adding a classic Gallic shrug for emphasis. For years she’d been Mickey’s closest friend; they’d shared tales of their lovers over wine at the end of a long day. Henri was Yvette’s third husband, but only when she was in the mood to have a husband.
“He’s so beautiful,” Bebe said, turning to Mickey with the puppy in her arms. “I want to keep him for myself. Look how bright his eyes are.”
“Did Henri finish the collar?” Mickey asked.
“Just last evening. Here it is.” Yvette took a braided leather collar from the shelf. A small piece of brass was fashioned next to the buckle, complete with a spidery inscription that read Jake, Christmas 1918, from your friend Bebe.
“Ooooh, it’s just perfect!” Bebe squealed.
“I guess we’d better be on our way. This afternoon we are to decorate the château. We’ll see you and Henri Christmas Day. Come early, Yvette, so we can talk a little.”
The two old friends moved out of earshot. “How does it go with your…amour, Mickey?” Yvette asked. “You have a special look in your eyes, you act differently—does this mean you have finally fallen in love?” At Mickey’s expression Yvette continued happily. “It’s wonderful, is it not?”
Mickey nodded shyly. “More wonderful than I thought possible. I pray each night that nothing happens to spoil it.”
“Then you must not be foolish. Marry the homme so that nothing goes awry. Do you understand me?” Yvette whispered.
“But of course. If it is meant to be, it will happen.”
“Non. You must make it happen, Mickey. None of us gets any younger. Why do you think I snapped up Henri?”
Mickey hugged her friend affectionately, and they went back to where Bebe sat, holding the puppy.
“You must give petit Jake back to his mama for now,” Yvette said as she reached for the contented puppy, which had fallen asleep in the girl’s arms.
An hour later Mickey ground the Citroën to a halt in front of the château. Like conspirators, she and Bebe trundled their packages inside and spirited them upstairs,
It took a full two hours, with everyone doing his share, to get the huge fir tree into the stand, erect, and shown to its best. Bebe clapped enthusiastically when Mickey stood back and exclaimed, “parfait!”
Daniel was dispatched to the attic with specific directions for finding the hand-blown glass ornaments that had been in Mickey’s husband’s family for years. Reuben was on a ladder waiting for the Christmas angel. Bebe was sorting through colored candles to be mounted in the little saucers that would be hooked onto the tree.
“A delicate job,” Mickey warned. “We must be careful of fire, so they must be placed only on the tips of the outer branches…. I thought you were stringing the popcorn and berries, Reuben.”
“That’s women’s work,” Reuben teased. “Besides, I’m the only one tall enough to reach the tip of this tree.”
“I’ll do it,” Bebe offered, “just as soon as I finish with the candles. I think Reuben should put the candles on the tree. I don’t want to make a mistake and have the tree catch fire.”
Soon Daniel returned with the box of ornaments. This was a part of the Christmas holiday that Mickey adored. She explained each heirloom glass ball and teardrop ornament to Reuben, Daniel, and Bebe, the way her husband had explained them to her when they were first married.
Bebe listened to Mickey’s stories with rapt attention. At home in California a servant stood a tree up and decorated it. It was done mostly for show, and all she’d ever been interested in were the presents underneath, presents bought by someone else in her father’s name. Her thoughts drifted back to California, the Christmas dinner for all the stars dressed in their silks and satins and bejeweled from head to toe. Inevitably, the guests would drink too much wine and liquor, and the holiday celebration would end with tears, recriminations, and curses. Bebe had hated it, dreading all but the gifts.
She continued to watch Reuben out of the corner of her eye. She loved comparing him with the men she knew back in California. Reuben always came out on top: he looked clean-cut, he was American, and he was handsome. If only he’d smile at her. He was so unaware of her it was insulting. She could have been a bump on a log for all he knew or cared. The only time he noticed her was when she did something to call attention to herself, and always in an unflattering way.
Now Reuben teetered precariously on the top of the ladder. “Well, where’s the angel?” he demanded.
“Bebe has it in her hand,” Mickey said.
“Well, fetch it here! Don’t stand there looking at it! And be careful on the ladder,” he admonished her.
Bebe walked haltingly to the foot of the ladder, the angel clutched in her hand. One step, two, three, four, five, and he was leaning down to take it from her, their faces inches apart. A feeling of light-headedness came over her. It had to be the scent of the fir tree, the aroma of the cherry wood and pine cones in the fireplace. Or was it the nearness of Reuben? In that one brief instant, as she stared directly into his eyes, she’d seen something, somethin
g she had never seen before: his awareness of her.
Finally.
Mickey was also aware of that brief instant. She tried to cover it by chattering to Daniel, then excused herself, saying she had a blinding headache and had to take some tablets and rest. In a curt voice she left instructions for the rest of the decorating.
Reuben stared at the doorway for a long time until Daniel took him by the arm and led him to the sofa by the fire. “We’re taking a break. Hot chocolate and cigarettes. We can decide who’s going to do what before Mickey comes back. She’s been getting a lot of headaches lately, hasn’t she?”
He didn’t expect an answer and was surprised when Bebe offered one. “She gets them only when I’m around and Reuben is in the same room.”
Reuben glared at her. Daniel held his breath, waiting for the outburst. He tried to cover the bad moment. “I…I don’t…think that’s necessarily true, Bebe. She had headaches before you got here,” he stammered. “Isn’t that true, Reuben?”
“Yes,” Reuben grated. Damn this troublemaking child. Mickey’s headache was purely a feminine trick she used when she didn’t want to deal with something. He was annoyed now, just short of being angry. God, he hated these times when Mickey pouted and went off to her room. They were supposed to be having a fun afternoon after all their weeks of hard work. Well, dammit, he was going to enjoy himself!
“No! No, Daniel, no hot chocolate. Wine. We’re going to have a party, just the three of us. And”—he wagged a finger—“you can’t have a party with hot chocolate. The best house wine, what do you say?” He enjoyed the devilish look on Bebe’s face and ignored the concern in Daniel’s eyes. “At least three bottles. Now that I’m the expert on Mickey’s vintage, I’ll go to the wine cellar and choose the right Bordeaux. Bebe, come along with me. Daniel, you stoke the fire and get the mistletoe separated so we can hang it. Mickey was adamant about placing it everywhere.”
Reuben followed Bebe from the room, then stopped in midstride, telling her to go on ahead. When she was out of earshot, he returned to Daniel. “That’s not betrayal you see on my face or think you see in my eyes. It’s anger, Daniel, and anger is an honest emotion. I don’t ever want to see you look at me like that again.” His voice was so chilly, Daniel flinched.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, dropping his gaze to stare at his shoes, refusing to meet Reuben’s eyes. By God, he had been thinking all those things. How did Reuben read his mind like that?
When at last he looked up, Reuben was gone.
The decorating came to a screeching halt a few minutes before the dinner hour when Bebe, after too much wine, giggled and said, “I feel like one of the Three Musketeers.” Reuben laughed, but it was not a pleasant sound.
“That position has been filled, Bebe. Mickey is the third Musketeer. She named us that after we arrived.” He laughed again, pouring more wine all around.
“Aunt Mickey is too old to be a Musketeer,” Bebe said, giggling uncontrollably. “Aunts aren’t musketeers. We’re young, so we’re the Three Musketeers! So there!”
Reuben held his glass aloft, a smile on his face but not in his eyes. “To the Three Musketeers!” Daniel, drunk and giggly himself, halfheartedly joined in the toast.
Bebe held her glass next to Reuben’s and clinked it. “Drink it all and then we have to smash the glasses in the fireplace. That’s how they do it in the films.”
Mickey got up from her window chair. She’d been so certain Reuben would follow her upstairs—so certain she’d even turned down the bed. Instead, he’d watched her leave with a cold, hard look in his eyes. For a long time she’d stood at the top of the stairs, listening jealously to the merriment below. She’d wanted to cry, but she hadn’t. She was behaving just like Bebe, and that young girl was more observant than she’d thought. And now the last straw—Bebe calling the three of them the Musketeers. Her eyes burned with anger, anger at herself.
She could stay here and have a tray in her room, lock the door in case Reuben tried to come in. Punish him, the way you did the others when they didn’t do what you wanted. “That was a long time ago. This is different,” she whispered to herself in the lonely darkness of her room. “This is real.”
Mickey avoided staring at herself in the mirror because she knew she wouldn’t like what she saw. She combed her hair, letting it flow loose behind her back. It didn’t make her look younger, just haggard. Quickly she piled it on top of her head and added a jeweled comb. A dab of scent, some powder to her cheeks, a little rouge, and she was ready to join her three tipsy guests.
The heady scent of the evergreens almost drove her backward. She smiled at her guests and clapped her hands. “Well done!” When Reuben glanced at her suspiciously, Mickey turned away. She recognized that look: it meant Reuben would not play her game—or anyone else’s, for that matter.
“It’s almost time for dinner. I took the liberty of getting the bath ready for whoever is going first.”
“Mademoiselle Bebe is going first,” Reuben said gallantly. “Fifteen minutes!” he said, holding up ten fingers.
Bebe giggled. “That’s ten!”
“Then you have only ten. Daniel goes second, and I go last.”
Daniel tripped over his own feet in his haste to follow Bebe and leave Reuben and Mickey alone.
“I do believe we are the bad children, Daniel. I don’t feel like a bath, do you?” Bebe whispered at the foot of the stairs. Daniel shook his head. “Then let’s just change our clothes, and no one will know the difference.”
Daniel ran the suggestion over in his mind. All he had to do, really, was change his shirt and put on a tie. He nodded again.
“Fifteen minutes. I’ll meet you at the top of the steps. Rub some soap over your hands and brush your teeth. That’s how I always fooled my father.” Bebe giggled.
“Did it work?” Daniel asked incredulously.
“Every time.”
Downstairs on the sofa, Reuben leaned close to Mickey. “How’s your headache?”
“I didn’t have a headache, Reuben. You know I didn’t, so let’s not pretend. I acted like Bebe, and I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to understand this, but there are times when I look at Bebe and feel—”
“Old?” Reuben asked bluntly.
Mickey shivered. “Yes. Old. When I start to feel like that, I have to go off by myself and get my thoughts together. I’m sorry if I spoiled the afternoon.”
Reuben leaned closer, his breath wine-scented. His tone was as serious as Mickey’s. “I don’t expect you to understand, but it’s not important to me…the difference in our ages. I love you. I don’t love Bebe. I don’t even like her. I grant you she’s young, she’s pretty, and someday she’s probably going to be a beautiful woman—but she’ll never be you. If you keep on like this, I’m going to walk out of here. We had an understanding, Mickey. You’re going to spoil it if you keep comparing yourself to Bebe. Send her to Paris if you can’t bear to have her around.”
Tears glistened in Mickey’s eyes. “Forgive me, Reuben.”
“There’s nothing to forgive. When you love someone, there are no rules and no apologies, only understanding.”
When Daniel didn’t appear at the assigned place fifteen minutes later, Bebe went to his room. At the sight of him, she burst out laughing. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes glassy, his mouth hanging slack. Apparently he was trying to put a clean sock over his shoe. Bebe knew Reuben would throw a fit if he saw his friend in such a condition. “Come on, Daniel, we’ll sneak down the backstairs to the kitchen and get you some coffee. Here, let me run this brush through your hair. I’ll do your tie in the kitchen. Hurry, I think I hear Reuben coming.”
Like two naughty children they crept down the stairs to the kitchen. Old Nanette took one look at Daniel and hurried to the stove. She poured the coffee generously and laced it with strong brown sugar. Three cups later, Daniel raced to the sink and vomited until his sides ached. Bebe just shook her head, watching as Daniel gargled and rinse
d his mouth. She wasn’t amused when he stuffed a wad of parsley in his mouth to kill the sour taste of the wine.
Later that night, after Mickey and Reuben retired, Bebe and Daniel sat in front of the fire. At last Daniel broke the silence. “Thank you, Bebe. I shouldn’t have gotten so blotto, but everyone else was drinking. I didn’t have as much as you,” he said in an accusing tone.
“That will teach you not to do what everyone else seems to be doing just to be part of it. The reason I’m not in the same shape as you is because I dumped half of my wine in the fire. I know how much I can drink before I lose control. Both of us did what Reuben wanted, you for your own reasons, me because he finally talked to me and paid me some attention. I felt absolutely giddy when my aunt went upstairs, because Reuben looked at me. She was jealous of me. I liked the feeling,” she whispered. “It doesn’t make sense, does it? I like her a lot, and yet I was glad I could get under her skin.”
Now that she’d started to confide her true feelings, Bebe couldn’t seem to stop talking. “I wonder if he thinks I’m pretty. He was this close to me—” She placed her fingers an inch from Daniel’s face. “He was thinking about me all afternoon. I could tell. When we were in the wine cellar I could have gotten him to kiss me if I’d wanted to. Daniel, are you listening to me?” Bebe stamped her foot to get his attention.
“No. I mean yes. I’m listening, but no, Reuben wouldn’t have kissed you. I know what I’m talking about. Bebe, you have to stop thinking about him. It isn’t going to work out. Don’t torture yourself.”
Bebe stamped her foot again. “You don’t know everything, Daniel Bishop. You don’t know anything about women or girls. All you know is what’s in books. You make me mad!”
“I make you mad? Do you know what you make me? Crazy, that’s what.” As Daniel spoke, his hands gripped the sides of his throbbing head. “I went through a war and didn’t have half the problems I have now. I never know what to say to Reuben anymore. I keep sticking up for you. That makes him mad, and he thinks I’m being disloyal. If being loyal to you makes me disloyal in Reuben’s eyes…I can’t help it,” he said miserably.
Sins of Omission Page 15