Little Death by the Sea (5 page)

Maggie was vaguely aware of the Mediterranean
sun caressing her bare arms and legs, and of her cotton sundress
pulled high across her thighs. She could smell the redolent mixture
of olives and lemons and sun-sweetened grass and roses. And when
she held Laurent and felt him kiss her, she felt nothing else about
Elise or Nicole or Atlanta or her own fears of failure.

Chapter 3

1

“I flung myself down the availing sewer and
lay there gasping for what seemed hours but what was, in actuality,
only mere moments. Having successfully eluded them, I then crept
from the gaping maw of the stinking, pestilence-riddled hole and
immediately saw the girl.”

Roger paused briefly and accepted another mug
of coffee from Laurent’s thermos.

Maggie sat next to Laurent, a proprietary
closeness between them. No awkward “should-we-have-done-that?”
aftermath for them. From the warmth and exhilaration of their sweet
union late that afternoon until now when they sat quietly near one
another, it was clear that a very right thing had developed between
them. But now her thoughts and eyes were focused on the wee,
crooked comma of a child that sat draped in the cotton tablecloth
that had been spread beneath the two lovers only hours earlier.

Roger had brought her twenty minutes earlier.
She was small—smaller at six years than Maggie had imagined she’d
be. All the Newberry women were leggy creatures—lanky girls and
tall women. All except Maggie who was the recipient of the family’s
good-natured teasing for her sole petiteness. Sole, it seemed,
until now.

She wanted to gather the huddled, frightened
girl into her arms, to hold her and make her feel the love and care
that her American family had for her, even though her initial
attempts to do just that had been quickly rebuffed by the child. As
soon as Maggie saw Nicole, she reached out to touch her, wanting to
hug her, to connect with her. Instantly, the girl had recoiled,
yet, Maggie detected no recognition of pain or fear in the girl’s
large, brown eyes or their flat outward gaze.

Now, Maggie sat motionless as Roger told his
story.

“I’d ditched the blighters, right enough,”
Roger said, taking a noisy sip of his hot coffee, “so I just dashed
up to the tyke, grabbed her up quick as you please and off we went.
Well! They saw us, didn’t they?”

“They did?” Maggie’s attention moved briefly
from the girl to Roger. “Was Gerard with them?”

“Eh? Gerard? Absolutely! Yes, he caught sight
of me himself. ‘Stop with that child!’ he called out to me. I
continued to run. Must’ve run bloody miles, in fact, I’m sure of
it. Carrying the girl, there. She’s a lot heavier than she looks, I
must say.”

“And did Gerard follow you?”

“Follow me? Dear girl, of course he
tried
to follow me. I was nipping his nipper, so to speak,
wasn’t I? But we dodged into some bushes that were along the way
and, well, there you are.”

“Where are we? You jumped into some bushes
and he gave up?”

“Maggeee...”

Maggie looked at Laurent who smiled at her
admonishingly and touched his finger to his lips. “Let Roger tell
it.”

She nodded and looked back at Roger.

“Well, he gave it a mighty search, did our
Gerard, all the time cursing frightful things! The mouth on him, I
say, we captured her back just in the nick, say what? A few more
months of that sort of language and we’d have a right little Femme
Nikita on our hands!”

Maggie glanced at the shivering girl-child
and could hardly imagine a less likely possibility. Elise’s baby,
her own niece, flesh of her flesh.

“Does she speak English?” she asked
suddenly.

“Ahh, no, as it happens, she does not.
However, I shouldn’t think that’d take but a tick to remedy. You
know how fast youngsters pick things up. She’ll be rattling out
American slang before you know it. Cowabunga-duding with the best
of ‘em. Wouldn’t you say so, Laurent?”

Laurent didn’t answer but looked at the
child.

“Has she eaten?” Maggie smiled at the
girl.

“Yes, nabbed her right after tea-time, I did.
As for myself, thanks for asking, I am a bit peckish. Wouldn’t have
a stray pickle sammie hanging about would you?”

Laurent seemed to snap himself out of a
daze.

“There is some chicken left,” he said.

“Does she respond to her name?” Maggie asked,
kneeling beside the girl and laying a gentle hand on one bony
shoulder. It twitched violently beneath her touch.

“Why don’t you call her and see?”

Maggie spoke softly, gently to the child.

“
Nicole? Bonjour, Nicole.”

The child lifted her head and looked at
Maggie. The eyes were blank.

“She knows her name.”

“It would appear so.”

Laurent reappeared with the remains of their
picnic lunch and offered it to Roger who quickly fell upon it.
Maggie cut a small piece of Edam and wedged it into a shred of
bread. She presented it to Nicole who simply stared at her. Maggie
put the food morsel into the child’s small hand then touched the
girl’s forehead with the back of her hand. Again, Maggie’s touch
was light and again, the child flinched in response to it. Maggie
had an impulse to gather the child up into her arms and hold her
tightly, as if by doing so she could make it all right again. For
both of them.

Her niece. Her own sister’s daughter. She
could see no strong resemblance to Elise or anyone in the Newberry
family, but then she never could see likenesses in people. The
child’s hair was dark, unlike Elise’s. Her eyes were wide and dark
and fringed with thick lashes. Her full bottom lip quivered
slightly. Maggie tried to imagine Nicole as a part of their family,
with a place at the Thanksgiving Day table, her own stocking at the
hearth, and knowing her new grandfather’s jokes and feeble puns as
well as the rest of them do now.
Was it possible that this
little collection of bones and tremors would someday be a laughing,
happy, integral part of the Newberry clan in Atlanta?
Maggie
knelt down and carefully pulled the child into her lap. She lay her
cheek against the little girl’s hair and closed her eyes. Nicole
did not resist her.

2

“You did well, me bucko, quite well. I’m
impressed.”

“It is not like that, Roger.”

“Well, whatever it’s like, old boy, I’m,
nonetheless, impressed. Although, I must say, to get paid on top of
your, shall we say, pleasure of the moment? seems a bit much under
the circumstances, don’t you think?”

“I think I am a lucky man, Roger. Give me my
half of the money.”

“Yes, yes, well, I suppose it’s just one of
the perks of the job. Next time, you go out and get muck up your
pant legs and I’ll stay back to comfort the dove, eh what?”

“Whatever you say, Roger. Where did you find
the little girl?”

“Right where I said I’d find her. You know
the place. Does it matter?”

Laurent shrugged and counted his French
francs.

“Don’t trust me, Laurent?”

“Anyone can make the miscalculation, Roger.
Do not be offended.” He looked at his friend and smiled. “And I
think we have miscalculated how long this business would take
place.”

“What are you saying?”

“I think I need to go to America to finish
our business.”

“Finish our...? Oh, I see. Well, that’s up to
you, of course.” Roger stood up and dropped a few coins onto the
table. He reached down and finished off his Campari and soda. “But
I’d be careful, old man. They do things quite differently in
America. Take it from me.” He clapped the big Frenchman on the
shoulder. “Quite bloody differently.”

3

Maggie scanned the crowd at Hartsfield
International Airport for her parents. Big John and diminutive,
auburn-haired Elspeth, the Southern beauty queen, the Newberry
matriarch.

She glanced down at her charge who huddled by
her side. Nicole looked even less like a blood relation this
morning, Maggie thought. She was so dark—more like Maggie—while the
rest of the Newberrys were fair—but unlike Maggie or her family,
Nicole’s features were blunt and full. Her eyes were round as an
owl’s and dark, like unfathomable, bottomless pools. Her face was
oval and her chestnut brown hair cascaded to her shoulders in an
unruly curtain. She was a pretty child, Maggie decided. Perhaps
even beautiful.

The child had spoken not a word the whole
trip. She’d given no indication that she needed to go to the
lavatory, wanted water, was hungry, was fatigued, or even fearful.
Nothing. She had sat in her seat, her new, airport-bought outfit
making her look like a refugee from Disneyland, and stared out the
window of the airplane. Maggie had spoken to her in French and then
English. No response.

Maggie thought she saw a glimpse of her
mother’s beautiful hair, tucked—but not quite hidden away—under a
long blue silk scarf and she began to usher Nicole in that
direction. She saw her father standing next to her mother and she
waved. They looked fretful as their eyes searched the crowd for
her. She watched them, her waving hand faltering a bit. In a flash,
she realized that they were not really looking for Nicole. She
could see the look in their eyes. In a strange, inexplicable way,
they thought they would see Elise. Maggie’s hand dropped to her
side and she felt sick with the intensity of her parents’ grief and
longing. She looked down at Nicole, who stood motionless beside
her, her little face set against the crowd, against Maggie.
They
would not find their Elise here,
Maggie thought sadly.

“Maggie! Darling! John, she’s over here.”
Maggie looked up quickly and smiled at them. She propelled the
child forward and Nicole walked robot-like into the arms of her
maternal grandparents.

“Darling, you’re here!” Maggie felt her
Mother’s hug, and the light, familiar scent of Chanel No. 5.

“Yes, yes, we’re here,” Maggie said as she
watched her mother bend over to greet Nicole. Elspeth touched the
child without hesitation, ignoring Nicole’s unfriendly response of
jerking her head away to stare down the long airport corridor.
Elspeth smiled at the child with true joy and hugged her to her.
Maggie could see Nicole stiffen but she did not totally resist the
hug.

“Long flight, darling?” Maggie’s father
leaned over and quickly gave her a squeeze.

“Not too bad,” Maggie said. “Well, here she
is. She doesn’t speak any English. Nicole?
Ceci ton grandmere et
grandpere, comprends-toi
? Maggie straightened up and shook her
head. She’s been through a lot.”

“Of course she has.” If Elspeth Newberry was
less than impressed with her brand-new and only granddaughter, she
did not show it.

The child stood quietly among them. Her eyes,
framed by her thick eyelashes, seemed pushed into her wan, elfin
face like bits of charcoal in dough. Her shoulder-length brown hair
was limp and dirty.

“It’s just going to take a little time,”
Elspeth Newberry said as she knelt beside the child, the silken hem
of her designer dress dusting the airport tile. “And we’ve got lots
of that, don’t we, ma petite?” She touched the girl’s face with her
hand and looked into those dark, expressionless eyes. “Yes, we’ve
got plenty of time to get to know each another.”

Maggie’s father shifted uncomfortably from
one foot to the other.

“Brought Brownie with us,” he said. “He’s out
by the car.”

“Brownie?” Maggie looked at her mother.

“He didn’t want to come in, dear.” Maggie’s
mother stood up again and shifted her purse to her shoulder. “He
thought it should just be the family when we all met.”

Maggie was glad Brownie had come. Her
childhood boyfriend, Brownie tended to be the great stabilizer of
upsetting or too-exciting family events.

“Where’s your luggage, darling?” John
Newberry touched her on the shoulder and looked around as if
someone would be delivering the valises to them where they
stood.

“They’re at baggage claim. That’s great that
Brownie’s here. Did he call you?”

Elspeth took Nicole’s small hand in her own
and began to lead the child away.

“Yes, he did. Brownie’s such a dear.”

“Yeah, Brownie’s okay.” Maggie suddenly
realized that she could use some of Brownie’s effortless humor
about now. She couldn’t believe the trip was over. Ten days? Had
that been all? Did jet lag make it seem longer? Her heart twisted
slightly at the memory of Laurent standing at the Nice Airport
departure lounge, his big hands shoved in his pockets, his feet
planted solidly in a I-won’t-be-budged stance.
Why hadn’t it
occurred to her that good-bye was the next step in their
relationship? Why had it taken her by surprise the fact that he
would, of course, stay and she would go?
She shook her head and
smiled at her dad who was walking behind Elspeth and Nicole and
watching them closely. He’s trying to find something of Elise in
her, she thought.

*****

“You’ll come to see me in Atlanta?”

“Of course.”

“And we’ll write in the meantime?”

“I am not very good at writing in
English.”

“I could write you.”

“I have no...how you say? address of
permanence with which to give you.”

“Oh.”

“But I will love you from here. If you do not
hear from me very soon, you will remember,
n’est-ce pas
?
Remember Laurent loves you.”

“
Je t’aime, aussi
, Laurent,” she had
said, stunning herself by the sudden knowledge of the truth of it.
And, as she had felt with Elise, she knew in her heart that she
would see him again.

“You’ll call me, right? And you’ve got my
number in Atlanta. Laurent, this is so hard.”

“Just remember,
cherie
. Remember that
Laurent does not forget you.”

*****