LitanyLane

No, No No
 
I dropped my phone to the floor and began to put the pieces together

They were dead

Of course they were dead.

That’s why I hadn’t visited them in so long. . . that last time they had seen Rose was when I  brought her to their funeral. . . it was why she had a passport.

My running around had awoken Peter who demanded I tell him what was going on. His words fell on death ears, my mind going a million miles a minutes

“How did you find Rose and I when we arrived?”, I asked while getting dressed

“Your mother called me, why ? Clara are you leaving ?”

“Are you sure ?”

“Yes”

“And you saw Mama Elena showing Rose to all her regulars, right”

“I saw Rose walking by herself”, he said not quite sure what I wanted to hear, “Clara isn’t your grandmother dead ?. Are you alright ?”

“Silence, please”, I snapped at him then instantly regretted it, “I’m sorry I just need to get back.”

"Clara"

"I'm sorry Peter. I promise I'll be back"

I was screaming on the inside but didn’t let it show. I finally found my shoes and mapped out the best way  back to the restaurant in my head. In the hallway I heard Peter calling me a town car.

“I should go alone”, I said stopping him at the elevator, “Call me in a few hours okay ?”

“Is everything okay ?”

“Yes.”, I lied and kissed him good-bye.

"Clara, wait", he yelled again just as the doors closed

I made it downstairs just as the car pulled up. The doorman gave me a nod and greeted me as I flew out the door.

The morning traffic has taken up a majority of the street keeping me at a stand still. After a while I just got out of the cab and ran for the rest of the blocks, I kept expecting the worse. As if I had failed to protect someone again.

I began to breathe again once the restaurant came into view.

The restaurant was getting ready for breakfast and I sped right passed the waiting guest and wait staff, taking the stairs two at a time.

The door to the apartments was locked and I pulled on the doorknob till the  door flew open. Now everyone was staring at me not that I really cared. I listened for crying but didn’t hear any. Rose wasn’t in the living room or the bedroom, it was like I could not move fast enough.

How had I forgotten my own Grandparents were dead ?

 The flowers my mother had sent were meant for their graves. The flowers themselves seemed to be mocking me from their place at the front of house. It was as if my mind had been in a strange fog not allowing me to see the truth and I didn’t think that was a coincidence.

The truth, Clara why is it so hard for you to see ? I scolded myself.

   
I pushed open the door to the kitchen and saw Rose sitting at the dinner table still dressed in her clothes from last night. She was coloring in the black and white pictures from the book we had been reading.

There were four places set at the table  and I looked around and saw no one.

“Rose, did you set the table ?”

She nodded. She seemed perfectly fine for a girl who had been babysat by her dead grandparents.

Just the thought made me need to sit down before I fainted.

“Who are all the plates for.”

“Me. You. ..  Ann and Mr. Peter”, she said pointing to each set.

Maybe I had overreacted. I sat down and watched Rose continue to deface the book.

“Uh, Rose. Remember when you said you liked Mama Elena and Grandpa. . . well you don’t remember them do you ?”

“Yes I do, we have a lot in common.”

“No you don’t”

“Yes we do”, she snapped her crayon in half and reached for another one.

I tried to take the crayon from her but she would have none of it so I gave up and resumed trying to talk to her.

“Where are they now ?”

“They said they would be back”, she looked up, “for you.”

I changed clothes and threw whatever I could fit into one suitcase. The passports were harder to find and I realized how comfortable I had let myself become. As if there weren’t someone after my daughter. I’d let myself become to trusting again.

Thump

There was a hollow knock on the apartment door and I pulled Rosalie into the room.

“Who’s there”, I called

No one answered

“It’s them”, said Rose

“How could you possibly know that”, I snapped the half-backed suitcase shut and slowly approached the door, “Peter ? Is that you”

Nothing.

The knocking continued and the door jumped ever so often on its hinges. If something was on the other side of the door I decided not to stay long enough to find out

I opened the back door that lead to the fire escape. The stairs were old and rickety I almost feared they would give out under the weight. I was half running half walking towards the nearest train station. Once again Rose only had the burden of doing whatever I said, not realizing all I was going through for her.

How much I was giving up for her.

Her little fingers slid from my grasp and I held on to her  tighter. Rosalie began to have a bit of a tantrum and was screaming and kicking along. She wanted to see her grandparents and to be honest I couldn’t bare to listen.

I wanted to let go of her hand and leave her to fiend for herself. She could be absolutely charming at times, certainly someone would take her in ? I pushed the thought from my mind and continued through the street.


The Eurorail station was only ten blocks from the restaurant and like every place was crowded with tourist.  I absolutely hated how my morning had gone. I ambled up the front desk fumbling in my wallet for my credit card. Their were two trains leaving in the next ten minutes and we would be on one of them.
.
There wasn’t an empty bench in sight, I backed up next to a wall and sunk to my knees. This morning had gone far from how I expected. I rested my head by my knees so Rose wouldn’t see me crying. I felt terrible for leaving Peter and there was nothing I could do as long as I had Rose with me.

By the time I heard the next train being announced I had dried my eyes and found our seats on the train. It wasn’t until we were leaving the station that I called Peter.

It went straight to voicemail.

“Um, Peter it’s Clara. Something came up—an emergency. I had to leave but don’t worry. I’ll get back to you.. . I promise”

Next I called Emile’s home phone.

“I can’t believe you actually found the time to call m—“

“Emile ?”

“Oh, Clara. Good night.”

“ Emile something happened.”

 I went into detail about how I had just spent a month living with . . . dead people, leaving out the part about Peter of course.

“Where are you now ?”, he asked

“On a train to”, I checked the tickets,  “Brussels”

He was silent for several seconds

“hm, Listen I’ll be up for that Tudor’s lectures this week in London. Maybe you can wait for me there. We can figure things out”

“I guess so”, I was relieved at not having to be alone anymore. Of course by then we would only have few days.

“Is Rosalie alright ?”

“Yes, though I have to admit Emile I’m scared”, I whispered the last part

“He wants you to be afraid, don’t give him the advantage. We will see each other soon”

“Okay, I’ll talk to you later”

I threw my phone in my bag and concentrated on the view outside the window.

Peter called me once or twice before we stopped in Brussels. I didn’t know what to tell him so I didn’t pick up. Rose was tired of traveling and threw another tantrum much to the chagrin of the people sitting around us. I sensed she was catching on to the fact that this was not a normal vacation.

The most we saw of Brussels was the walk from the train station to the Eurostar station. Rose was somewhat enamored by the “highspeed’ trains that didn’t look like any other train she had seen.

The train was cold and for the most part empty. I listened to Peter’s voice messages over and over again trying to figure out what to say to him.

He was obsessed with the truth and I knew I could never give that to him.


Just my luck it was raining by the time we arrived in London. I purchased two overpriced umbrellas from the station before going outside.

I would only have to wait 7 days until Emile showed up. I was tired of running and decided  in the meantime I would have to start looking for answers myself.


The St. Mark’s hotel is a beautiful white washed building. It was located off the busy street in a cozy quiet part of the city,  with just the occasional visitor coming and going. It was quiet peaceful and just what I needed.

I must have looked like a mess when I entered the lavishly old fashioned lobby, there was a beautiful chandelier in the center and a bar set off to the side that seemed to be calling to me.

I checked in handing over my platinum card knowing I was close to  over my limit. When my card was declined for an expensive room I settled for one of the cheaper rooms.

“Just so you know the elevator’s broken”, said one of the receptionist

“Thanks.”

Rose didn’t want to climb the stairs so I picked her up and carried her to the fourth floor. Fortunately a concierge offered to carry the suitcases up via the service elevator for me, I leaned against the door as I opened it and when the door shut behind me I felt a little bit calmer.

The room only had a large heavily decorated bed with a million pillows on it and a simple chest in the corner. There was a closet and dresser with a boxy wooden television set. The room was far to small but we would manage.

 I set Rose on the bed and turned on the plastic coffee maker that smelled as if it had just come out of the box.

While the machine began to brew I took a seat in the chair in the corner and watched Rose throw the clothes out of the luggage and onto the floor till she found Ann buried at the bottom. I couldn’t believe I had  remembered to pack the doll in such a rush.

“Rose we have to talk.”

She began to prop Ann up against the pillows and did not appear to want to talk at all.

“Rose”, I said again, “Just tell me what you and Grandpa and Grandma Elena did together. Did they introduce you to anyone ?”

“No”, she said combing out the doll’s hair

“Did you think they were different from the other people at the restaurant.”

“Yes”, she said finally ready to cooperate, “they were nice.”

“Was anyone else nice ?”

“Mr. Peter was nice too, but not like them.”

She was very child like about the entire predicament I could not just up and explain death to her or could I ?

“Rosalie, remember when you asked me about death ?”

“No”, she said

“Well you did and . . .well---you see Mama Elena and grandpa are dead and when people are dead you can’t really see them anymore…”

She was braiding the dolls hair now and completely ignoring me. It made me so upset but I held it inside. It almost made me want to kill her myself.

Even though I hadn’t said a word out loud Rose suddenly turned her gaze to me as if she had heard me.

I was tired and obviously hadn’t meant a word I said or hadn't said

I started cleaning up the clothes she had left on the floor. I reached for a door I thought was a closet but it  was bolted shut.I pulled and turned on the knob and still nothing.


 I found another space to put our clothes in and considered my next step to finding answers.


Another train.

I held Rose back as the blue and yellow train sped by before stopping. I had tucked our passports back into my purse and took Rose’s hand as we boarded. The train moved slowly through the underground cement tunnel and towards Paris.

The trip was relatively short and I spent most of it lost in an issue of Vogue I had picked up in Rome.

Once we arrived in Paris I found a coffee shop with internet access and tried to figure out what to search for first. I ordered a coffee with extra cream and stared at the screen for a few minutes.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Rose propping Ann on the table.

Finally I started typing

I found a database for French Royalty and typed in a name.

Bourdeaux, Victorious

34 names pop up

Only 15 appeared to have died between the ages of 20 and 40. That at least gave me a start.

“Who are you ?”, I said to myself

I started doing a basic search when a French museum website popped up. Based on the little bit of French I understood it appeared as if there was a Bourdeaux exhibit at the National French Monarchy Museum.

There wasn’t a lot of information on the exhibit and I decided I needed to see if for myself. Perhaps something to help me appeal to Victor's better nature or at least understand it.

I wrote down the address and hailed a cab. I kept waiting for Rose to say something or complain but she never did she just constantly asked me to hold her.
 
The museum itself was crowded with more tourist and I reminded myself never to come to Europe in the summer time again. Rose had remained unusually quiet and I started to wonder if I should have brought her with me to Paris.

My thoughts were put to rest  when I saw a sign for a museum daycare. Fortunately Rosalie couldn't read  very well and didn’t know where I was about to leave her. The room was filled with highly energized children playing in a colorful room.

There were a few young teenagers in charge of watching the children. I watched as one of the girls in charge introduced herself to Rose and then attempt to get Rose to introduce her to Ann. I wanted to tell the girl not to bother but she seemed to  have given up on Rose who was sitting in the corner alone clutching Ann to her.

The inside of the museum was beautiful and I found myself wishing I could just spend all day lingering inside. The style was uniquely French, it was clean and  sophisticated. The artwork worked with the landscape making it an immersive experience

I climbed the stairs to the top floor following the arrows that pointed to the exhibit. The closer I got to the Bourdeux exhibit the less people there were. At the end of the hall I saw why.

A dainty orange and black sign hung from the door.

'Under Renovation'

“Everything okay, dear ?”

I heard a male voice behind me and I didn’t want to turn around and consciously ran my hands over my face. Everyone was always nice until I turned around, especially men.

Quickly I turned on my heels.

A very scholarly looking man was behind me. He had a full beard glasses and was carrying a stack of books. He didn’t have a visitor's clip so  I assumed he worked here.

He gasped taking in the scars along my face before his eyes lingered  over the deep V in thrcotton dress I was wearing.but I ignored the look, I was used to it.

“No”, I said pouting a little,  “I was just really hoping to see the exhibit”

“It’s actually closed, a freak accident nearly cost us everything.”

"what kind of accident ?"

"An earthquake, actually"

“Is everything damaged ?”

“No, fortunately.”, he seemed so concerned

“Did you work on it ?”, I stepped closer to him

“Yes, I did”, he was getting more comfortable

“I’m just really interested in the Bourdeaux family, maybe we could talk. . . in there”, I said motioning to the exhibit

“I suppose as long as I’m there”

He took a key out of his pocket and opened the doors. It was like walking into a throne room. The floors were polished marble with large glass walls Everything was beautiful except for the huge crack in the center of the floor where a few paintings had fallen. I tried to remember if earthquakes were natural to France.

I took in each picture carefully and individually.

“The Bourdeaux family actually had a short reign but they were a prominent family. Not much is known about them I wouldn’t expect someone to be so interested.”

“I’m invested”, I said, “So is it true that the family actually has a curse.”
 
He laughed

“That is a rumor. At least every 59 years a member of the family would die under unknown circumstances usually on the exact same day. . . though I don’t believe in ghost stories and if you want to be a serious student. . .

I began to wonder how life like these portraits could be and began to tune the curator out.

“Can you tell me when the last death was?”

He laughed again and offered me a seat at the table in the center of the exhibit.

“It’s funny you mention this the last family member died in 1957, her name was Victoria though she was much older. The family expected another death but I guess the curse has been broken.”

“Who died before Victoria ?”

“Probably a Victor, you seem really interested . . .let me see if I can give you some information."

I started looking around the exhibit and I noticed behind a curtain was the only picture still on the wall. I pulled the sheet down sending dust everywhere.

It displayed a large unanimated picture of Victor, the Victor I was looking for.

b. August 15th 1895 – d. 1921


Somehow the painting seem to capture his youthful and domineering appearance even though he had a somber expression. His light brown eyes were piercing though it was probably just the pigment. . .  it was as if he was looking at me. It was strange to think  I found him so attractive

“Ma’am”

The man had walked back in.

“How did he die ?”, I asked

“The way they all died, French style”,  he said  with a hand motion

“His head was chopped off ?”

He gave a sound of approval from behind me,

“freak accident due to the curse they say”

“You don’t seemed convinced”

“Well, it just sounds like a great excuse to kill of members of your family”

I tore my gaze away from the picture to see the man had a set of books in his hands. He offered them to me and I was uncomfortable with the way he was staring at me as I poured over the books. It was probably my fault for choosing the dress I had.

“Could I maybe borrow these, I’ll return them”

“Keep them”, he offered, “I have plenty of copies. Good luck with your studies Ms. ?”

“Clara”, I said.


He watched me descend the stairs and as I entered the daycare I began to look for Rose. The girl whom tried to make friends with Rose earlier was busy putting together a puzzle with a group of children.

I looked around for Rose but she was nowhere in sight.

“Excuse me”, I said to the girl, “do you know where my daughter is”

The girl looked started around the room and consulted in French with the other employee. They both started frantically looking for her

I didn’t’ want to cause a scene so I started looking for her myself. What was I thinking bringing her here ?


I started to look for security following the “help desk” arrow towards the back of the museum towards an outside atrium covered with flowers, I didn’t even know was there. If it weren’t for all the people it would have been a beautiful garden.

I continued on the stone path a man in a uniform on a segway wasn’t too far away.

From a distance I saw a woman crouched near a little girl who certainly looked like Rose, as I got closer I realized that it could only be her.

The woman was speaking in a string of French and Rose kept her eyes on her feet

I cautiously approached the woman and picked Rosalie up

“Merci”, I said to the woman taking Rosalie in my arms.

The woman appeared to be an employ and Rose relaxed a bit when the woman left. I wanted to ask her why she left but it was obvious she didn’t like the other children.

Her eyes were red as if she were trying not to cry, I would never have expected someone her age to not want to cry.

"Rose, is everything okay"

She didn't say anything, I tried my best to comfort her but there didn't appear to be anything wrong.

I took the books the man had given me and found a place in the garden to read, I flipped through a short page of biographies till I cam across Victor's

Victor had only lived for 25 years but he seemed fulfilled. He had gone to school in England and was described as being powerful and strong minded with a temper.

His head had been removed during a night in a hotel he had commissioned. It was  a sad story

The entire family seemed to be an intricate weave of beautiful over achieving people. . . just like mine.

. . . Alot like mine.

What a strange thought

After all my father’s family had moved to the states from France during World War Two, who knows what they did or who they were involved with before then.

I flipped back a few pages and read through references till I found a name all to familiar

DeLune, Marianna

Since the DeLune’s had a habit of having one child I didn’t know much about my family personally just the names of musicians.


There was a very short snippet about the marriage between a member of the two families  in the 1700’s but it was the only link, a very small connection.

Perhaps Victor and I were more entwined than I thought.

I was starting to truly believe everything happened for a reason.

My head was reeling by the time I got back to the St. Mark. Hotel. Victoria  had only one child and from what I could tell the only living members of the Bourdeaux family were in the business of trading commodities.

Rose had been quiet since running away and I was surprised she didn’t want to know what I had been up to. Her mood seemed to have past and she seemed to back to being complacent.

I decided to try and entertain her for the rest of the day we spent in France. I took her to another park where I had to force her to swing with me and then she had started throwing rocks when a woman asked me what was wrong with Rosalie's eyes.

Fortunately most of the rocks had hit me and cracked my laptop.

After a long day she refused to walk unless I carried her back to the train station.  I began to feel a little better when we made it back to  London.

It was late when we arrived back to the St. Mark. The hotel was without a kitchen and I ordered dinner from a nearby restaurant. My mind still reeling from the information I knew about Victor, his life did seem unfairly cut short.

A French film played in the background while we ate dinner, or at least I ate and Rose just laid in bed. I tried to force feed her but most of it ended up on the floor.

“Are you sick Rose?”

She crawled further underneath the cover and looked away. She didn't seem to have a temperature but I felt bad about ignoring her all day.

“ How about some ginger ale ?"

I don’t know why I even offered, it was nearly midnight but I was kind of worried about her and after today I could get her a ginger ale from the bar and maybe a drink for myself.

I tucked her into the bed with her doll and told her not to move.

I closed the door and pressed an ear against the door. .. Rose could have been talking to someone but I realized it was just the TV.

To be honest, I didn’t really care.