Paris Summer (19 page)

“How did you get to be such an expert on Sandy?”
Janine demanded. “You’ve never even met him.”

“Yes, I have,” Mark’s tired voice answered.

“When?”

“A couple of weeks ago. I got curious about Sandy
so I went to see him. We spent quite a while talking.
Mostly about you.”

“What gave you the right to pry?” Janine said hotly.

“Concern. You’re practically my sister, remember?”
he replied lightly, his back to Janine.

“I’m sorry,” Janine said abruptly. “I shouldn’t be
arguing with you. It’s just that I feel so depressed. And
now you tell me that the only man who ever fell in love
with me didn’t really.”

Then, suddenly, she was crying again and Mark was
holding her. “There will be other men,” he said
soothingly.

“Who?” Janine flared. “Ever since I can remember
everyone I know has told me that `someday’ someone
would fall in love with me. Well, I’m tired of waiting. If
it hasn’t happened yet, maybe it’s not going to!”

Mark laughed. “I see. You’re so very old, then?”

“It’s not funny.”

“I never said it was.” Mark was serious now. “If you
stopped worrying about it so much and stopped being
so prickly, you might have better luck. As it is, you
hang out a sign for guys like Sandy that says you’re an
easy girl to catch, but everyone else assumes the
opposite.”

“You’re full of analyses tonight, aren’t you?”

Mark chuckled. “Actually, it’s this morning.”

Janine glanced at the clock and discovered, to her
dismay, that it was two A.M. “Don’t go yet, Mark!” she
said anxiously. “I’m afraid of Sandy…what he might
do. He’s got a terrible temper.”

Mark looked at her face soberly and then nodded.
“Would you like me to stay the night?” As she flushed,
he added, “Here on the couch. If Sandy tries to bother
you, I’ll handle him.”

Janine felt unaccountably shy and she evaded his
eyes as she nodded. “Would you? I’d feel so much
safer.”

His voice was almost flippant as he said, “Sure. Give
me some sheets and a blanket and I’ll even make my
own bed. Then you ought to get some sleep.”

Numbly Janine agreed. In the bedroom, as she
brushed her hair, Janine was grateful Mark had not
suggested a stiff drink to calm her. It was better if she
cried herself to sleep tonight and got it over with. Once
again she prayed that Rena appreciated the man she
was getting. Too bad he didn’t have a twin brother!

In the distance a phone rang. Janine fought to wake
up, knowing she should answer it. Then the ringing
stopped and as she drifted back to sleep she had the
oddest notion. She thought she heard a man’s voice. It
sounded like Mark, but of course that was absurd…

Later, sunlight streaming into the room this time,
Janine woke again. Her head ached and her throat was
sore. Gradually she remembered… Mark! He was
sleeping on the couch. Hurriedly Janine thrust her feet
into slippers and pulled on a robe.

But Mark was already gone. On the daybed sat a pile
of neatly folded sheets and a blanket. On top was a
note.

Dear Janine,

I left early since I suspect you might want to be
alone this morning. Don’t worry about Sandy. He
called and I told him you would be with me all day
and that I wouldn’t let him speak to you. So I
doubt he’ll try to call or come over. If you need me,
just telephone and I’ll come right over.

Mark

Janine smiled. Dear Mark! Was there ever anyone
so tactful? She had heard the phone, she recalled now,
and she wondered just what Mark had said to Sandy.
She even chuckled at the frustration Sandy must have
felt. Then she was abruptly sober. It had been very early when Sandy called. Knowing Sandy, there was
only one conclusion that he would draw from Mark’s
presence. If he carried out his threat to see Rena
…Janine sighed. Unless Rena was unusually
understanding, Mark was going to have an awful time
explaining. Though if Mark were right, Rena would
consider the tale absurd and simply assume Sandy was
trying to get even with her for jilting him. Which, of
course, would be the truth.

Suddenly Janine felt like shouting. She was free!
Free of Sandy once and for all. Never again would she
be so stupid about a man! Spinsterhood was infinitely
preferable to the wrong marriage.

Humming softly, Janine went out for croissants,
smiling at everyone she passed. She had coffee at Les
Deux Magots and relaxed as she watched the people
hurry by. Guilt, that’s what had kept her chained to
Sandy. The fear of being unfair and hurting him. And
the fear of being lonely. A young man asked to sit at her
table and Janine nodded. Happily she flirted with him
in her bad French. Then, when she finished her coffee
and he wanted to follow her, Janine mischievously told
him, “Non. Je dots aller et rencontrer mon maxi.”

It was a lie, but otherwise the young man might have
been persistent. Janine decided to spend the day
shopping. Not that she needed anything, but she might
see something she liked. And she could be sure she
wouldn’t encounter Sandy in a department store! At
the thought of him, Janine shuddered slightly. For all
her brave thoughts, she hoped she wouldn’t have to see
him again. She didn’t want another scene. Janine
stayed in the stores until it was time to go home and fix
dinner. Her euphoria evaporated by that time, and she
decided to treat herself to a steak to boost her spirits. A large steak. She could cut it in half and have enough
for two meals. Or enough if Mark should drop by. But,
of course, he wouldn’t. Responsibility to one’s sisterin-law only goes so far. Well, she could always go to
Shakespeare and Company and spend the evening
browsing. Sandy certainly wouldn’t go there, only…

Neither Mark nor Sandy were waiting at her door,
but Jacques was. “Jacques!” Janine exclaimed. “Quelle
surprise.”

He regarded her gravely. “Comment ca va?” he
asked.

Opening the door, she responded. “Ca va. Et
Helene?”

“Bien.” Jacques was still watching her seriously. He
spoke slowly so that she could understand his French.
“Mark telephoned me. He told me about Sandy. He
seemed worried about you.”

Since Jacques remained standing, Janine did also.
Puzzled at his tone of voice, she replied, “Well, you
were certainly right when you said I should not marry
Sandy. Last night I learned a great deal about him. I
was…upset. Naturally, I cried. I think Mark is not
accustomed to women crying.”

“So,” Jacques said, taking a deep breath, “you do
not need anyone to talk with. Or anyone to be with?”

He turned as if to go, and Janine reached out a hand
to stop him. “No. That’s not true. Jacques, could you
stay for dinner? I would appreciate it.”

Suddenly he grinned. “Certainly, ma petite.”

The apellation startled Janine who, at five foot ten,
was not used to being called ma petite. Particularly by
a man who was shorter than she was. But she smiled,
understanding what he meant.

As Janine prepared the food, Jacques talked about Helene, his work, and the weather. Only when they
began to eat did he begin to discuss Sandy. “I was not
sure if you would want to see me,” Jacques began.
“Women are often strange and since I did not like
Sandy…” He shrugged. “And when I am here and you
do not seem unhappy, I thought I was not needed.”

Janine chose her words carefully. “At first, I was
unhappy. I had been a fool over Sandy. He was not as I
saw him. Then I was happy because I felt free. Now I
am both. I am not so strong as I would like to be.”

Because she felt like crying, Janine stared down at
her plate. Jacques waited patiently for a few moments,
then cleared his throat. “Perhaps you would like to see
a movie with me, tonight?”

She smiled at him quickly and nodded. Pleased,
Jacques turned the conversation to other matters.
“Have you seen the Palace of Versailles? No? But that is
terrible. You must see it with me this Sunday.”

“I’d like that-” Janine began, then stopped in
dismay. “But I forgot. On Sunday I always go to a
museum with Mark.”

“He will understand if you change your mind this
week,” Jacques pointed out.

Janine swallowed. “Yes, but… you see, I-I-”

Jacques looked at her oddly. “I understand. It is a
comfort to see a… brother sometimes?”

Janine nodded, grateful for his understanding.
Jacques grinned wryly. “Then it is simple. We will go to
Versailles on Saturday. But you must wear sensible
shoes. One must walk a lot there.”

Janine relaxed and made a face. “I always wear
sensible shoes. And my mother always tells me I am not
chic.”

Jacques laughed and shook his head. “You would not be a good French woman. Here, fashion is
everything. But for you, it is better so, I think. You are
unusual.”

“My mother says the same thing, but she says it with
despair!” Janine countered.

“She prefers your sister, Rena?” he asked incredulously. When Janine nodded, he muttered, “She is
crazy. But it seems to me there are others also crazy.”

Janine laughed. “If you are not careful, I shall
become too vain.” Then she was serious. “Jacques,
what did Mark tell you? Exactly, I mean, about Sandy
and me?”

Jacques concentrated on his food. “Ma petite, it
does not matter.”

In amazement, Janine stared at him. “What do you
mean, `it doesn’t matter’? I want to know!”

“I mean,” Jacques replied slowly, “that I will not tell
you. I promised Mark. But do not worry. About you
there was, for the most part, good.”

“Blast him!” Janine muttered in English.

Jacques was amused. “You are not a `kitten,’ you are
a tigress.”

In spite of herself, Janine laughed. Silently, she
determined to demand an explanation from Mark the
next time she saw him. Outwardly meek, however, she
asked, “What movie shall we see?”

As it turned out, Jacques had chosen an English
comedy. “Sometimes French comedy is difficult to
understand if one is not French. And I think perhaps it
would be best if you laugh today,” he explained.

The theater was on a small street near the Tour
Montparnasse. Though Jacques didn’t say so, Janine
wondered if he had chosen it because it was so unlikely
Sandy would go there. No, that was absurd. Better be careful, Janine warned herself, you’re becoming
paranoid.

The subtitles were poor, but Jacques seemed to
enjoy the movie as much as Janine. Not for the first
time, Janine began to wonder just how much English
he knew. When she asked him, he shrugged. “A little. I
learned a little English in school.”

He did not seem inclined to practice his English, so
they continued to speak in French. Over Cointreau, in
a small cafe, he asked her about her childhood. With a
sense of deja vu, she told him much the same as she had
told Sandy. Only now she wasn’t afraid to confess that
she had often sought refuge in books. “And camping
and fishing,” she added hastily.

Jacques smiled. “For me, it was the garden. I was
very proud of my vegetables and flowers. And I spent
much time with a camera and even developed my own
film, until my mother said I could no longer use the
bathroom for my darkroom. But best I loved to ski. My
father would take me to the Alps to ski with him. Until
I broke my leg using his skis. Since that time, I go with
friends.”

Janine laughed in sympathy. “I learned to ski when I
was six, and I love it also. I never broke any bones but I
have lost a ski pole or two. My father would take us to
the mountains every winter. But I have not gone skiing
in four years. I have not had the chance.”

“That’s terrible!” Jacques exclaimed. “You must
return to France this winter and we will ski together.”

They both laughed, each knowing the other knew
they never would. Sometime later Jacques walked
Janine back to seventeen rue Bonaparte. “Bonsoir, ma
petite,” he said as he kissed her on the forehead, “hors
bien.”

As Janine climbed the stairs, she was deep in
thought. Dear Jacques, he was very sweet. I’m
surprised he’s not married yet. So different from
Sandy. Poor Sandy, so heartbroken he’ll probably be
engaged to someone else by the time he flies home.
Anyway, if he brought me home, his father probably
would have disowned him. I would never make a
society hostess. I would be bored silly. Then her
thoughts turned to Mark. He doesn’t care a bit about
society. And he would rather hire a housekeeper than
marry one! He said a man needs a wife he can talk to,
but I wonder what he talks about with Rena? Rena.
She always was lucky. If Mark weren’t engaged to
her…But he is, and that’s that. And even if he wasn’t,
do you think he would ever have noticed you?

With a sigh, Janine dug out her keys and opened the
door. For a moment her heart pounded as she listened
for the sound of someone’s presence. But there was
only silence. It was ridiculous to think Mark might stop
by; he had handed her over to Jacques’s care and had
probably forgotten the matter.