LitanyLane

Bonjour! Rocket Olsen

                                                                                                                                                                             
This is Clara DeLune from Le Vesinet, FR. I heard Tempest Cast a few weeks ago and I kind of wanted to share something with you. I know this is going to sound crazy and a lot of it won’t make any sense to you . . . but I think you might find some of it interesting.

So . . . here goes.

+1+

It was dark?

I turned and got my heel caught in one of the floorboards and despite my best efforts to be graceful I’d somehow managed to knock over a shelf of trinkets.  I pulled my shoe out of the floor board and realized I must have fallen into some backroom or storage cellar because I couldn’t see a thing.

I felt along the wall for a light switch and kept banging into tables and shelves. This was without a doubt this worst antique shop in Versailles. It was official, antiquing wasn’t my thing. I heard footsteps from above and I pulled on the string of an old Tiffany lamp and the room came into a dim view. The room was flooded with some pretty amazing finds. Gorgeous dresses, Silk screens, mahogany chest, trunks, gold coin, jewelry, perfume bottles . . . and a typewriter.  Perfect.

I stood up and something about the room seemed familiar to me. And why was it so quiet and how the hell did I get in the storage room? This was a storage room, right? I turned around and saw a beautiful bronze full sized mirror behind me, then a door at the top of a staircase I hadn’t seen in the dark opened.

The room was flooded with bright lights and I saw Mr. Fierro at the top of the stairs . . . except he wasn’t wearing a shirt and he just had on a tailored robe and not much underneath.

“What. . . What . . . are—“

“What are you doing?” he finished for me.

“Fierro what’s—“

He shined a flashlight in my face.

“Who are you?” he asked squinting at me.

“What?”

“Who are you”, He asked with a protective edge to his voice, “and what the hell are you doing in my house?”

“What? Honestly, it’s me—“

“Answer me.” He demanded.

“It’s me—“

“CLARA!” someone squealed

From around Mr. Fierro I saw my grandmother in a way I hadn’t seen her in a long time, she looked healthy and trim. Her eyes were darkly lined, she was wearing a bright lip gloss and her silver hair was in huge retro curls, she was wearing a redchemise that should not have looked as amazing on her as it did.

“Oh . . . my . . . God”, I said stepping back into a table full of gold charms, “What’s going on?”

“Oh, Clara you’re dead!” Lucie said brightly then solemnly, “I mean. . .Clara. You’re dead.”

I laughed and closed my eyes because I couldn’t really look at the image in front of me for too long.

“No. I’m not dead.” I said.

“Lucie”, Fierro said, “Is this…”

“It’s Clara. My granddaughter. The baby!”

“What’s going on?” I asked again taking the time to locate my purse on the floor underneath an avalanche of perfume bottles, “I can’t be dead. I’m not dead. I can’t die. And. . . . I need to get Rose from school or she’ll be late for her art class, so I just need to—“

“Clara is it?” Fierro politely smiled and spoke to me in a soft cautious voice I’d only ever heard him use with Rose, “I’m afraid Lucie is telling you the truth. You’re dead.”

“No, I’m not. I mean I’ve been dead but I’m not anymore and I can’t be dead. I have meeting in the morning and I just put a down payment on a trip to Hong Kong and I—“

“She’s so young. “, Lucie said. She put her arms around Fierro’s neck and resting her head on his chest and I . . . couldn’t stop talking all of a sudden.

“I’m not dead.” I said then pointed to Lucie, “You’re dead… you’re not really dead and we were just shopping for a typewriter. I was in the antique store.   I tripped and all these trinkets fell down and now I’m here—“

“Clara”, Lucie said unlatching herself from him and hugging me. God. Her scent just took me back to my childhood, “Come upstairs we’ll explain everything, Clara.”

Lucie took my hand and lead me up the stairs. I blindly followed clutching my purse. Lucie closed the door to the basement and she led me to the living room of the house on Litany Lane. Every inch of the wall was covered in mirrors. Ornate furniture and amours were lined against the walls. The walls were covered in elegant wallpaper.I kept catching glances of my voluminous hair I’d cut to my shoulders and the bright pink lipstick I’d tried on for the day since it matched my lilac sheath dress and shoes in a quirky sort of way.

“You look so much older”, Lucie said putting a small vintage mirrored table in front of me, then she took a seat on a plush baroque couch, ”I’ve only been gone for two years.”

Fierro had come back into the room carrying a tea tray. He set it on the table in front of me and joined Lucie on the couch, an arm slipping naturally around her slim shoulders. Lucie bought her feet up onto the couch and leaned into him.

“You don’t know who I am?” I asked Fierro.

Fierro straightened, suddenly realizing I was talking to him, “Lucie’s told me about you . . . but I should introduce myself—“

“I’m sorry”, Lucie said, “I—Clara this is my husband, Addison Fierro”

“I was afraid you were going to say that”, I said pouring myself a cup of tea because why not? “Look I’m not dead. This is. . . I’m.  . . something is happening.”

“Madness”, Fierro whispered to Lucie as he poured Lucie a cup of tea.

“What?” I said.

“Lucie”, Fierro became somber, his idle hand twisting around strand of her hair. “I’ve read some reports about some newcomers suffering from a type of madness. It usually fades but this is the first case I’ve seen. We should tell Victor“

Did he just act like I wasn’t there?

“I’m not mad.”, I said speaking up for myself, “I’m not supposed to be here. At least…not yet? I mean I’m early, I mean--”

“Oh, Clara”, Lucie said but I could tell she was bored with my . . . hysterics. She looked amazing and everything from her black silk robe to her high heeled slippers matched. She had on just the right pair of pink sapphires earrings and a single gold band. She was always one classy lady.

“I think I’m hungry.” I said looking at Lucie.

“We don’t actually get hungry”, Fierro said leaning against his. .  Wife. Ugh. “You are just—“

“It’s okay, sweetheart”, Lucie said, “Clara was always one to eat when she was stressed. I’ll see if I can find you something.”

“Thank you”, I said.

She kissed Fierro before she popped up and disappeared into the kitchen. His eyes followed her until she was on the other side. When the door closed I jumped up to sit next to him.

“Listen, Fierro”, I said, “Something is not right here.”

“Oh, I can explain.” He said seeming just a bit self-conscious, “Your grandmother and I are old friends. You see I died when I was very young so--”

“Whatever”, I said, “You were in love. In 1955 my grandfather murdered you. Fifty years later you met her in Nightfall and got married. Yeah, I know all that. Look, five minutes ago I was in France. Looking for a typewriter—for you-- in an antique shop and now I’m here.”

“How did you—“

“I’m, very intuitive.”

His eyes narrowed and he was giving me a very patronizing smile that didn’t quiet reach his clear blue eyes. “Clara, as unfortunate as it sounds, I think a shelf in the store fell on you and killed you. Or maybe the store was robbed--”

“Mr. Fierro you’re not listening.”

“Call me Addison.”

“I . . . can’t.”

“Why not?” He parried.

I just looked at the quizzical look he gave me, the slight upward bend of his mouth.

“I. . . I don’t know.” I said, “But I didn’t die. I can’t die and we have a daughter who can’t be an orphan. We have to get back. She’d be the worse orphan and my sisters won’t take her in because she’s such a handful. And when she get angry, anxious, sad or scared. ..  Things happen. I mean Emile can take her but he’d have to go to court and they’d put in her in American foster care and she’d run away and blame me and then she wouldn’t have a family  . . . oh, and what’s she supposed to do during the holidays? And she doesn’t know anything about money or where the emergency cash is. I guess there is enough food in the kitchen buts she won’t know how to—“

“Lucie never mentioned you had a child.”

“I do.”, I said then moved my hand between us, “We do. Her name is Rose.”

His eyes shifted to the copious flower arrangements around the room,“Rose?”

“Rosalie.”, I clarified, “She’s your daughter. We have to get back to her. She’s anxious so it’ really good to keep her on a schedule so we really need to go home.”

He squinted at me, nervously taking in his bottom lip. “I guess this madness is worse than I read about.”

“I’m not mad.”

“Clara. We’ve never met before. We couldn’t have. I’ve been here longer than you’ve been alive. I’m sorry you are separated from your daughter, but that pain will ease. ”

“No”, I said burying my head in my lap. This was so frustrating.

“I’m sure her father will care for her.” He said but I could see the concern in his eyes...

“You’re not listening. Her father is gone because you’re her father and you’re here,” I said sitting back up.

“I see”, he said trying to carefully pick his words, “Well . . . I can understand being an unwed mother is hard but—“

“Listen to me”, I said, “You and I have a daughter who is going--”

“Why”, he said slowly putting a tea cup in my hand, “Do you keep saying that?”

“Because. . . “, I said since we were doing this now, “Six weeks after I lost my virginity to you I found out I was pregnant.”

He promptly spit tea out all over me and the fancy couch

“What the hell—why would. Dear, God. That is very …. I would never”, he said all once. He dug around on a credenza full of loose gems for a silk napkin Great now I smelled like cheap chamomile tea. I looked down at my purse clutched in my lap. I poured the contents of the bag out on the couch and sifted through a few things until I found an old picture of Rosalie I’d kept it in my purse.

“This is a few years old but . . . look. See.”He took the picture and stood up to see better under the Tiffany lamp.  He slowly walked around the couch and came to sit on my other side.

“Oh… God”, he whispered.

“I told you.”

 “Clara”, he said again taking that patronizing tone, “Just because your daughter and I both have albinism doesn’t mean we’re related.”

I stared.

I started and stopped about fifty sentences at once. I’d never wanted to hit him more in my entire life. Instead I tried to play it smart.

“You have a red birthmark on your shoulder”, I said because that was as personal as I could think to get.

“I’m sorry?”

“If we’ve never met. Why would I know that?” I said

“Clara, I wasn’t exactly dressed when we met.”

I started wringing my hands

“You like your coffee with a lot of sugar and um . . . well…um—“

Lucie came back in with a tray of my favorite cookies and a few slices of cake. She prompted me to sit back in the chair and I did obediently

“How is she?” Lucie asked sitting down in his lap.

“She’s absolutely delirious.”

+2+

They set me up in a guestroom but I couldn’t sleep, mostly because I didn’t need to sleep, I needed to get home. Plus how could I sleep if they were sleeping. Together. Together. Somehow I ended up falling asleep and when I felt the sun on my skin I hoped I’d wake up from this nightmare but no.

I was still in the octagon shaped room with the huge stain glass windows and a bed that was so comfortable I wanted to stay in it forever. I pulled the covers around me when I heard a knock at the door.

Lucie peeked in and maneuvered across the floor to me. She was holding a gold plated tray with a coffee cup, French toast and fruit salad.   She plopped down next to me with the brightest smile on her face.

“We usually have breakfast in bed”, she said passing me the tray, “Today’s my morning and I thought of you.”

“. . . You cook?”

“I’ve had time”, she lies on her side, her silvery bob in an array of big loose curls. She played with one of her curls and watched me take a sip of the coffee.  

“You . . . look . . . so happy.” I managed.

“I am, dear. I didn’t think I believed in heaven but this feels so good.”

“You think this is heaven?”

“Well . . . Addy doesn’t think so”, she waived her hand away, “He can be pretty serious sometimes, but I think you two will get along. I love him so much.”

“I know”, I said feeling a lump in my throat as she made her way out the door.

 I decided to put my dress from yesterday back on. I did try on a few of the brightly colored lipsticks that were piled on the vanity in the guestroom. I settled on a bright red one and tried to make myself look. . Not mad.

I padded downstairs barefoot, not a good idea since I kept stepping on rings and loose gems.  Fierro and Lucie were the kitchen making coffee together. A classic crooner was singing from the record player in the corner of the galley kitchen.  . I never realized how . . . bright his smile was until then. It went up to his eyes and softened the hard line of his jaw.  He was so . . . handsome all of a sudden. Deliriously handsome.

And Lucie. Lucie had one of those big vibrant personalities, but this quiet joy she was emanating was palatable. They were both exactly where they belonged. Cautiously I cleared my voice.

“Clara, good to see you up”, Lucie said abandoning all pretense of making coffee and dancing with her . . . with her husband.”

“Hi”, I said as they whirled past me, “Um. Do either of you know where I can find Emile? I kind of have a theory.”

“Who’s Emile?” Lucie asked as Fierro dipped her. She laughed and I smiled despite myself. Then I remembered Rose would be back from school. She’s be alone in the house . . . with matches.

“He’s a friend.”

“There’s a directory”, Fierro said letting go of Lucie and trying one of the pastries Lucie had just taken out the oven, “We can got later this afternoon.”

“The sooner the better”, I said intently looking at a snow globe on the counter

“There is a block party tonight”, Fierro said, “Once you meet everyone and get acquainted I know things will get easier for you.”

“Sure”, I said

 

+++

“I just can’t get over how mature you look”, Lucie said her arm wrapped around Fierro’s.

“I was barley twenty when you passed. I’m . . . .” I thought about this, “Older now.”

“It’s not just that”, she said, “I don’t know you just seem very put together”

We were walking to the directory which was located in the center of town. The whole way there I tried to figure out if walking behind, beside or in front of them was less awkward. Lucie was green shift dress that was oddly similar to my red one with kitten heels, Fierro as always managed to look timeless in a white shirt, dark pants and suspenders. That was a little different. So was the one tiny button he’d left undone that I could not stop thinking about.

Right in the middle of Litany Village, I saw the directory sign and practically ran to it. It was a giant book with names in alphabetical order. I started flipping through and saw nothing with Emile’s name.

“Fuck”, I said and Lucie went into disapproving grandmother face, “Sorry”

“What’s wrong?” Fierro asked

“He’s not here . . . yet.”

This seem to interest Fierro,

“Its okay, Clara”, Lucie said, “You’ll learn to love it here. I know I do. There is a darling snow globe shop around the corner. It will cheer you up. You might see one you like.”

“I doubt it.”

While Lucie went into the snow globe shop Fierro and I loitered out front. The small town of Litany Village looked like a quaint Swedish village. Like the kind of place where nothing ever happened. Which seemed kind of lovely.

“There was no fog.” Fierro said peering down quizzically at me

“What?”

“It’s just. . . Usually when a new soul appears –especially at night--there is fog. But there wasn’t any.”

“So. . .” I said peering back up a him, “You believe me.”

“I believe a life cut short is the greatest sin of all.”

“You would know.”

Out of curiosity I wandered into the familiar shop next door. I slipped through the racks of clothes and saw two vintage pianos stacked up against the wall.

“That’s right, you play”, Fierro said sitting down at the cherry one, “Let’s hear it.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“It might help you feel better”

I sat down next to him and gave the shop owner a gracious look and started tuning the piano.

“This thing hasn’t been played in ages”, I said doing scales one more time, “What’ll it be.”

“Moonlight Sonata? That’s your namesake I assume?” with a challenging smile

“It’s so overrated”, I said, “How about. . . Eddy Arnold?”

He watched me cautiously and though I’d only heard You Don’t Know Me a handful of times I played it by ear. It was the song he and Lucie had danced to just hours before she watched him die. I expected him to get quiet to slam the cover down on my fingers but no. He just watched my fingers try to keep up with the melody in my head.

“That’s lovely, Clara”, He said, “If I buy this piano for you . . . will you play it at the block party tonight? Lucie would love it.”

“I don’t think your house has much room for one.”

“Clara, much like with our family . . . the Fierro’s will always make room.”

 

+3+

I don’t recognize most of the people at the block party. Everyone gathered in the street after the sun had gone down to watch the neighborhood light up under the glow of fairy lights. I’d watched all day as Fierro armed with a ladder carefully strung the star shape lights over the house. Lucie had relaxed in the shade and playful chastised him about hurting himself.

I still felt . . . oddly bubbly after our impromptu piano lesson at the store. Lucie had gone to the jewelers and Fierro and I spent the afternoon behind the piano. Him challenging me to play songs by ear and then me teaching him twinkle twinkle little star. He was terrible, but a good student.

I’d spent the rest of the day looking through Fierro’s books shelves for something that might explain what’s going on. My research was only interrupted by the full bodied smell of rose water. I’d wandered into the kitchen where a huge tin pot of hot water and rose petals lay cooling. I thought maybe the Fierros had gone outside to find more roses petals, but were instead laying on the cool grass, wrapped up in each other.  There was dirt beneath his fingers and Lucie’s lace dress hadn’t faired any better. Her shoes were carelessly abandoned and I felt.  . . Strange

I felt the same strangeness when I watched Lucie turn the batch of rosewater into delicious rose lemonade and when we spent hours trying to find something to wear to introduce me to everyone. She’d decided we’d both wear flared skirts, mine with a floral pattern and sleepless teal top.

Fierro and Lucie’s house was the most impressive with its thousands of lights immaculately strung. Each house had a game or bit of entertainment for the neighbors. It was so ideal, so peaceful.  I took a sip of the cold rosewater lemonade and went to man the booth I was assigned, giving away prizes for Mr. Sorensen’s ring toss. There had only been a handful of winner, the prizes being fluffy pink frosted cupcakes. Lucie had been one of the early winners, she’d done a little victory dance and we’d split the cupcake.

I hadn’t bothered meeting anyone because I was not staying. There was an answer to what happened to me . . . and I was going to find it.

Fierro and Lucie had open their garden to the neighborhood and set up some bistro tables, But due to all of the clutter Lucie had made it very clear no one was allowed to go inside. It was strange seeing people in such beautiful settings without cameras out.

When no one was looking I slipped back inside the house where the piano had arrived that evening. Lucie had somehow made room for it. I sat down behind the bench and trilled my hands on the keys. I started playing a concerto. Something with a melody and slow burning.

I hadn’t even seen Fierro come out of the kitchen, holding a pitcher of cold rosewater.

“How are you feeling?” Fierro asked pouring two glasses over ice.

“I.  . . wonder what Rose is doing ?”, I said playing the same three keys over and over again, “What if she’s . . . upset ? Like what if she’s crying in an empty house?”

He set a glass of water on top of the piano.

“I must say Clara, it’s odd that you feel this way.”

“She is my daughter”, I said

“I know. It’s just . . . usually being here. Takes away those feelings. Souls should be at rest, we don’t naturally ruminate on what we left behind.”

“I told you”, I said, “I’m not dead. Also did you notice I wasn’t I the directory? “

“You are-’”

“I’m not mad”, I said sneakily finishing his sentence. This seemed to amuse him and we clinked glasses before I took a sip.

“Can I… can I see that picture of your daughter again?” He asked casually

I found my purse underneath all of Lucie’s shawls and had to sort through my bag twice to find it.

“You feel something when you see her don’t you?”

“No”, Fierro said, “It’s just when I was alive. . . I never wanted to be a father. With the risk of passing my traits on . . . Lucie and I fought about it all the time when I was alive.”

“I wasn’t ready to be aMom”, I said, “I mean when I found out I was pregnant I was just scared and angry. I was not looking forward to the next few months of doing it alone.  I mean--I wanted to have a family, but I wanted to have a house and a husband who=”

When did I start getting all ramble?

“Do you love her?” He asked sliding to sit next to me.

“I do. I mean she’s hard to love . . . but she really does need me, so I need to get back to her.”

“What’s she like?” He leaned again the piano looking at me. He was curious.

“She likes to draw and read. Her favorite colors are emerald, lilac and rose. She hates technology. She’s very smart though. Always get good grades. She’s has this sweet little voice and sometimes people can’t tell if she’s being polite or condescending which is kind of funny. She doesn’t really like sugar so she sweetness her tea with oranges and cinnamon sticks. Whatever you do don’t call her Rosie. She hates it. “

He sets the photograph down on the piano.

“If. . .” he said not blinking. Not even once. “You’re not mad  . . . and this is really my daughter . . . are we together in another life.?”

“No”, I said honestly.

“I figured”, He says with a hint of amusement and finishing his water.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean   . . . look at you. You’re stunning, Clara. Intelligent, wealthy and from the looks of it very kind.  You intimidate me and I truly can’t imagine a woman like you with someone like me.”

“I mean we live together, we share a beautiful house in France. We’re friends and partners. Sometimes when it’s late at night and just the three of feel like I’m exactly where I am supposed to be. If I seem distance it’s because. . .”

He leans against the piano listening to me.

“Well”, he asks.

“It’s just hard seeing you and Lucie together because she’s not good for you. “

There I said it.

“Clara”, He stands, “What’s gotten into you--”

“It’s true.” I said abruptly standing to and pushing the bench back so we were standing face-to-face, “I mean yes, you are the best versions of yourself around one another. But your house is full of beautiful things to hide the ugly truth. Think about it. What did you have to buy her before she went out with you? How many diamonds did it take before she agreed to marry you? Has she ever apologized for watching you die?  For not telling the police Roger killed you even after her divorce? Don’t you think it’s odd that she waited until you were the literally last man on earth to be your wife? “

“We’re in love for right now, that’s all that matters.”

“Maybe” I said, “But it won’t last. You and I? Back home? We’re going to last forever.”

“My marriage to Lucie is for eternity. It was worth the wait.”, He stumbled over those last words. Like maybe he didn’t believe all of them.

“You waited”, I said, “You always wait for her. I wish I was as patient as you.”

“Why is that?” He smiled. At me. And my heart just . . . melted or flipped or fluttered or just glowed.

“Because I really want to go home and do this.”

I stood up and pressed my mouth to his. His entire body went tense in surprise, hell I was surprised. I tilted my chin up slightly and he parted his lips which still tasted like roses and lemons. My arms slipped around his neck and into his hair, he instinctively pulled me closer. He felt warm and alive and even though a billion warning bells were going off I couldn’t pull myself away.

We ended up in the staircase, far away from the windows and prying eyes of the neighborhood outside.  Every time he kissed me I felt things I didn’t think I was allowed to feel. He was sitting on the middle step, his back up against wall my legs on either side of him. I felt his hand ghost over my ankle and slide up my calf and beneath my skirt. This shouldn’t be happening and I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

“You’re not dead”, he said but all I could think about was his hand at the top of my thigh.

“What—what?” I pressed my forehead against his to overwhelmed to move. I toyed with the button on his shirt.

“You’re not dead.” He repeated.

“I know”, I said and I felt his fingertips press into my thigh and I almost fainted.

“I can feel your pulse”, he whispered into my ear.

“I told you”, I said biting my lip

I was all too aware of the complete lack of shame I felt. How I devoured the way he looked me right in the eye and how he said I want you with everything but his voice.

“I’m going to hell”, I said when we started kissing again.

+++

I tip-toed back into the guestroom long before Lucie came in from the block party. She hadn’t even seem to notice we were missing. For some reason I hid under the bed and once I came back down to . . . Earth. I tried to mediate myself out of having a panic attack.

 When the sun came back up I changed back into the clothes I’d arrived in. Grabbing my purse I tipped toed downstairs. Fierro of course was already up and drinking coffee at my piano, because he didn’t need to sleep . . . he was dead.

He was pensive and watched me move down the stairs

“Two sugars and cream”, I said nodding his coffee

He nodded and looked up from his cup, “You’re leaving.”

 “I don’t want to break my grandmother’s heart”, I said, “And um. . . I don’t think I can find answers here. I think I need to see what else is out there.”

He stood up and pulled a map off his bookcase

“At least take this.” he said, “It’s a map, and a general lay of the land”

“I had no idea it was so . . . big.” I suddenly had so many questions

“The farther away you go from the water, the older residents you’ll find. I’m sure one of them has seen this before.”

“Mr. Fierro”, I started.

“Please, call me Addison. I think we’re at that point.”

“You’d think”, I said more to myself, “I’m sorry”

“I think I’m more at fault than you. There is just . . . there is just something about you.”

“I could say the same.”

 “I hope you find you way back to me, Clara.” He set a gold compass on the table.

“I can’t stay here—“

“That is your version of me.”

“Right.”

“If he is anything like me… then he is most certainly falling in love with you a little bit every single day.”

“I’ll keep that in mind”, I said but I wouldn’t.

“This will help you navigate”, He said pointing to the compass, “I’ll explain it to Lucie.  If you need help . . . write us. 289 Litany Lane.”

“Thank you Mr. Fierro”

“Call me, Addison. Mr. Fierro was my bastard of an uncle.”

I gave him one last smile and slung my bag over my shoulder.

North

I could find north

I held up the compass and tilted it.

Nothing

I walked and prayed for the best. I had my eyes on the map for a moment to long and ran right into a wall. I turned around and almost ran into a display of beautiful vintage mirrors and dropped the compass into a bin of timepieces and dove after it. I dug through the bin but I couldn’t remember what it looked like.

 “Are you okay?” someone asked

I turned to see the owners of the antique shop coming out from behind the counter.

“Um, yes. Did I just . . . run into a wall?” I said like an idiot.

“I know the shop is small.” The owner said.

I looked at my watch. Then around the small crowded shop I’d been gone for 24 seconds. How in the world was that possible?

“Oh, God I---wait where is the man I was with !”

“He was just there a second a go. He must have disappeared.”

 

+4+

Fierro

That damn phone fell off the nightstand again and continued to wail like a wind up clock.  The sound was uncanny. Everything about the phone was uncanny.

I felt along the floor for it, but the light that usually came from the machine was turned off.  I reached for the lamp on my nightstand. A dim light came on and instead of the phone there was a pink wind up alarm clock having a fit on the floor.

I reached for it and shut it off.

Certainly this must be Clara’s new attempt to wake herself up on time. Though I didn’t remember seeing it last night. Nor did I remember anything from last night. I recalled going to the antique shop, something had caught my eye and then . . . there was nothing. Clara had redecorated her room, so much so that it looked like a different room entirely.

“Ms. DeLune”, I decided whatever was happening demanded an answer, “What’s . . . where are.
She sat up and rubbed her eyes, pulling rollers from her hair.

“I hate that thing”, she said reaching over and winding the clock, “But it works wonders.”

She said

Lucie said

She ran her fingers through her newly formed black curls and started to stretch.

“Lucie?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

I turned to the nightstand and picked up the pocket calendar that for years I’d ordered form the Mierman’s catalog. There was a small illustration of fie works and in big bold letters it claimed the year.

“1958?” I said.

“What’s that?” Lucie asked.

“It’s 1958?”

“It has been for seven months, Addy.” She said, “You better hurry or you’ll be late for work.”

1958. Impossible. I hadn’t made it passed 1955… or so I though.

I did as she said, because one thought well when one was dressed. I found my clothes pressed and hanging by the door.  By the time I’d made it down the hall to the kitchen of what appeared to be a modest but brand new single family home, I’d yet to have any conclusive thoughts. Lucie had a place set, a cup of coffee and a plate of burned eggs.

 “I. . . “, I looked at Lucie’s bright blue eyes. At the bright red apron she wore and how she hummed as she moved through the kitchen. I couldn’t quiet bring myself to upset her with my    . . . predicament.

 “You look radiant, Lucie” I said because she did, because this felt like a dream. It had to be.

“Stop it, Mr. Fierro”, she said teasingly.

“Roger”, I said more to myself than to her. Where was Roger DeLune

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about that anymore.” Lucie said

“I don’t understand Lucie. If you and Roger . . . wait if Martin doesn’t--”

“Please, darling’, she said and I realized I’d upset her, “it’s already hard enough seeing Roger march around town with that French twat his father set him up with. At that new supermarket I heard little Martin call her mommy, so. . .”

“You’re still Martin DeLune’s mother?” I said as Lucie sat in my lap

“You know we can’t legally say that. We signed an agreement”, she said, “Roger’s idiot wife is his mother on, remember? Martin has a good chance with a family like that. Goodness, such a sad way to start the morning. I don’t want to talk about this. Hurry up and finish your coffee so I can drop you off at the store.”

“Let’s go now. I’ll take the coffee with me.”, I needed to get out. Get a better feel of where I was.

“I don’t—what are you. . .”

 “I mean where are you going to put it?” Lucie asked checking her hair in the toaster.

“In the . . . “, I stopped deciding any talk of “cup holders” was a waste of time

Lucie had a picture of this very Plymouth on her desk at school for years. It was an older model but she beamed when she slid behind the wheel and drove out of the neighborhood of tidy brand new homes each one built exactly like the other.

I could imagine Lucie quietly handing over the illegitimate child to Roger DeLune in exchange for a check. A check that started this quite quaint life for us. The life we’d dreamed about. It was real and maybe it had been all along. I studied the signs. We were in the small city Jamestown, NY just a 20 minute train ride from our childhood home in Chatauqua.

Lucie stopped along a busy street just off the main street. She turned to check her watch.

“You know, sweetheart . . . the man is coming to fix the vacuum today and I was thinking of getting a new dress for Ellie’s bridal shower this weekend.”

Money. She wanted money.

I felt around my jacket and found my wallet and a checkbook. Even though I felt out of my place I gave her the checkbook.

“Don’t forget to balance it”, I said as if I’d said it my entire life. Maybe I had.

“I know”, she said reaching over to kiss me, “Go on. It’s almost 9.”

I got out of the car and looked around for someplace familiar. The drugstore was still closed and a lawyer’s office was on the other side. I thought to call back for Lucie when I saw it in front of me.

The White Rose Bookshop

I felt in my other pocket and found a set of three keys. One presumably for the house, one for the car and the other . . .

The door clicked open on the small two story shop. It was neat with leather backed chairs and a picture of Lucie by a register I couldn’t begin to know how to work. The shop was connected to the pharmacy next door and I felt a strange sense of nostalgia at seeing the soda fountain.

I kept the sign closed and locked myself away in the tiny office in the back. I’d gone through the store and collected the best books on the subject I thought I’d needed, but I found little in the way of theoretical physics or quantum mechanics.

Nothing to tell me how I went from an antique store in Versailles to New York in 1958. An alternate 1958 it seemed. I’d remembered being in the shop with Clara and picking up a . . . was it a watch? Or a timepiece?

Perhaps it wasn’t science at all.

If I’d somehow managed to survive Roger’s attempt on my life, perhaps I’d suffered a mild brain damage, could the last 60 odd years have been some sort of . . . . State?  A hallucination? It certainly would explain away a future history as bizarre as the one I’d . . .  imagined? Surely the turbulence I’d read about couldn’t lay ahead. Truly they couldn’t.

And Clara. When I thought on it she was nothing but a symbolic mixture of all the things I’d loved about Lucie and all the things I regretted, it was probable she was some sort of imagined manifestation. A girl named Clara Cinderella DeLune ? Yes, that was improbable. I felt a weight lifted off of me. I Finally I had an explanation for everything that had seemed far too wondrous.

I belonged here. For the first time in what felt like years I had a future, a livelihood and I’d had the great fortune to marry my best friend. I spent the morning memorizing the shelves, pulling books I’d never seen new copies of.Somehow the entire place smelled like Lucie, it was easy to imagine—or to know she would always be by my side

Around lunchtime I discovered a backdoor that lead out to a courtyard behind the buildings.  A pair of swing benches sat surrounded by a modest community garden filled with unusually large alabaster roses. I saw the roses and thought of her, the pain was so sharp…visceral.  . .  That I was forced to my knees until the pain dulled to a throbbing ache.

+5+

“Oh my goodness, it’s so good to see you Addison.”

Mrs. Honeywell came up from behind her desk to hug me.

“Mrs. Honeywell.”

“You got on the train just to see me?”, she asked shoving aside some boxes.

“I needed some help, Mrs. Honeywell”

“Is everything all right with Lucie”, Mrs. Honeywell face turned into a sneer.  A look I never realized was her contempt for Lucie.

“I just ... I need some information. And I thought to come to the one place that has never let me down.”

“The Chautauqua Community Library is always happy to have you! Are you okay . . . you look like you’ve been crying.”

“I—“, I don’t lie, “I was …. At the bookshop--”

“What happened, dear”, Mrs. Honeywell sat down. She was still the attentive librarian who had been so patient during my youth.

“The bookshop. It’s quiet a lovely place and I realized my daughter would love it.”

“You. . . I”, she put her hands over her mouth, “She’s expecting?”

“No”, I said, “No. Rose is eleven I love her dearly and I need to get back to her. At first I’d thought I’d suffered a brain injury and made her up, but I deeply miss her. Surely if she wasn’t real I wouldn’t feel this And if Rose is real . . .l then her mother is too-“

“Oh, Addison. Okay. This is a safe place.  You have a daughter? Who is her mother?”

Mrs. Honeywell begins to pack up more books, a cigarette in one side of her mouth.

“She”, I thought about this, “Well she hasn’t been born yet.”

“Are you alright. Does that wife of yours have you drinking those cocktails all the housewives are going on about?”

“No. I don’t drink anymore. I just need to find some books on physics. On time travel.”

“Well I’ve packed most of it up but I can pull something.”

“Packing? Whatever for?” I asked noticing the bare shelves

“I guess you don’t keep up on news around here . . . the library is being defunded. It’s fine. Really no one really used it except for you.”

“How can that be?”

“Well, Roger says there is no funding...”

“Roger DeLune? What say does he have?”

“Dear . . . he’s the mayor.”

I tried to imagine it. Lucie and I leave town, buy a house and he becomes mayor? “That man is worth millions. He has more than enough money to run his house on the hill but he can’t donate a small portion to keep this place running.”

“It’s fine dear”, Mrs. Honeywell decides, “Now let me help you find those books you were looking for.”

 

+++

“I don’t quiet think these will help me out.”

Mrs. Honeywell shrugged and set another set of Asimov magazines down.

“You said you wanted to read about time travel.”

“Yes, but I didn’t mean science fiction. I meant practical or theoretical?.”

“Well, you can have these. I know you and Lucie used to like these. Maybe read them to the baby.”

“There is no baby—“

“But your daughter.”

“Is in 2019.”

“Oh dear. Do I need to send for your wife “

“No, I should be going.”

Mrs. Honeywell had busied herself with packing the biographies. They had always been her favorite

“Mrs. Honeywell.  . . Do you ever come to the shop ?”

“Oh, dear. I—it’s a lovely shop Addison but you know I can’t really afford it.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have . . . I should be going.”

“Please, come back. I feel like Lucie never lets you come back. How about dinner next week. Carl’s should have the color TV set up by then. “

“It’s a date”, I said.

I stood up having to remember my hat. There was a train in 13 minutes leaving for Jamestown and as it were I missed it.

+++

The town hall was the pride and joy of Chautauqua Lake. In its heyday writers and speakers like Twain, Whitman and Roe had graced the halls holding lectures. Now it housed maps of county seats and past mayors.  I took the steps up stairs where the carpet had been replaced, the oak doors were new and a group of young men from the city were in the corner sharing a smoke

The receptionist didn’t make eye contact with me as I approached her desk. I recognized her. Her name was Mimi Saunders, her mother was very good friends with Lucie’s.

“Can I help you?”

“I wanted to see the Mayor”

“I’m afraid Roger is out.”

“I saw his car outside and—“

“Damn it Mimi”, Roget boomed from inside, “This phone isn’t working. Did we call the guy?”

Martin opened the door to his office and startled when he saw me.

“You shouldn’t curse in front of a lady, Roger.” I said.

He stood up straight putting on a companionable air.

“Addison. Why don’t you come on in?”

I had to keep my hands on my hat to keep steady. He’s looked a bit older but otherwise unchanged. Cropped parted brown hair, clean shaven and broad. He’d dropped the French lilt, one it was a miracle he’d possessed having spent most of his life in American Boarding schools.

“What bring you here”, he says circling his desk. His eyes and tone had gone dark.

“It’s about the library. Mrs. Honeywell says you’re closing it down.”

“So?” he said, “The school has a library—“

“I find more than just children need a library.”

“What is it you want Addison? Didn’t you get enough already? Hmm? You are the beast that got the beautiful Lucie Mills-Pepperidge. Do you want more money? Was 10,000 not enough.”

“Martin I’m afraid my memories of that whole ordeal have faded and I--”

I ran my hand up to my neck. Ghost memories of being in that barn that night with Roger slowly come back to me. I was suddenly aware of the scar.

“We fought”, I said, “Over Lucie. She told you she was pregnant and you weren’t interested . . . until you found out I’d offered to marry her--”

“Lucie you can have, but I’d never let my son be raised by you.” Vitriol oozed from his voice

“You stabbed me.” I continued.

“What are you playing at Addison?”

I was going on for my own piece of mind. It all made sense to me.

“You tried to strangle me and I . . . I almost died.  Lucie took me home? And you paid me off to keep me quiet . . . Lucie went away to have the baby and give it you and . . . Lucie and I got married and opened the shop with your money”

“It’s better country trash marries country trash.”

“For godaskes, Roger.”

“What do you want? Addison.”

“The library.  I thought maybe I could buy it. Privately run it.—“

“Right”, he said closing the curtains, “I might be up on making you a deal. If you sell me the deed on your store I can reallocate the budget for the library.”

“The deed?”

“There are some men coming up from the city who are looking to invest in that sort of thing.”

I thought about this

“It’s yours”

He clapped his hands together, “I always knew you were a reasonable man, Addison. Not the creepy old spook everyone said you are.”

“Well, the—“

"Papa !", I turned at the sound of the young voice, "Regarde le cerf-volant !"

I heard small footsteps thwack on the floor, a brunette boy ran into the office and circled the desk dragging a red kite. Her circled Roger a few times before he picked him up.

”Martin”, he said his son’s name with a thick accent. "Où est ta mère ? Did you runway from your mother?”

The boy laughed at Roger hoisted the boy up. He was maybe three years old, just a bit younger than Rose was when I first held her. I vivdly remembered the weight of her in my arms. She was real. She had to be.

“Are you alright?” Roger asked.

“Yes, I just—“

“You really should go. I’ll come for the deed tomorrow. I’d like to see Lucie again. She’s a good bit of fun, but I’m sure you know that.”

I felt a temper I didn’t think I had begun to flair but watching Roger with his son gave me the sense turn and leave. On the way out I nearly ran into Roger’s young teenaged wife keeping herself hidden by the door.

+++

“You did what? “, Lucie said turning from the smoking stove.

“I’m selling the store to Roger and we are paying back all the money he gave us.”

“What? Why? Where are we going to live? How are we going to survive?”

“We’ll figure it out Lucie. You can go back to teaching and I have a very good feeling about selling the roses in the garden. We’ll figure it out. It’s just temporary. We won’t be in debt to anyone. Least of all the DeLune’s. We’ll make it on our own. “

Lucie shook her head.

“Addison, that money helped us. It allowed us to get married—“

“We would have married anyway?” I reminded her as if I knew this for a fact.

“Roger’s money saved you. We owe the DeLune’s.” She slammed a lid down and turned off the smoking oven.

 “If this is the life I’m to live for the moment. I want to do it right. If I ever get to see my daughter again I couldn’t look at her knowing I’d done less than my best.”

“Daughter?” she squinted, “Addison what are you going on about? I thought we were going to wait. Make sure the baby won’t be conflicted”

“Conflicted How in Gods’ name you plan to figure that out.”

“Well, I don’t know. But how are you going to make money? “

“I could go back to school, Lucie. We can stay with your mother.”

“In Chautauqua? Why so I have to watch Martin and that French bimbo raise my son. No. I don’t think so. Things are perfect the way they are.”

Things were far from perfect. But I could make them until I found a way back.

“It’ done Lucie.” I said, “We have to start over. It will be hard for a few years but things will look up.”

“If you want to embark on this impossible new life, then you will do it without me.”, She said turning back to the stove

“Lucie.”

She turned abruptly  back to me.

“Darling, you can’t do it. I love you but you can’t go out on your own. It took nearly two decades for me to get you off that farm and you think you can support a family without Roger’s money. You just can’t sweetheart and can’t have a family with a man who can’t support one. I’m getting old, Addison. I gave up my child because you promised we’d have a family big enough to fill that hole in my heart. It’s been three years and what do I have to show for it?”

“I don’t have all the answers”, I said, “ but don’t leave Lucie. I love you. Believe me I want to make this work. I want to live a long life with you. We are going to have a beautiful life and a beautiful family together. Just not right now.”

 I let myself think on it. Of what that long life looked like?  50 years from now I may run into Martin’s daughter and she’ll never give me a second thought. Just like that my Rose would never exist and I’d mourn her every single day.

Lucie had run off in tears. I had to make things right between us. She was all I had in this strange world I couldn’t comprehend. I needed her. I didn’t deserve her but I needed her.

“Lucie, wait”

I got up to look for her, circling the unfamiliar halls. Her cries sounded so distant and I turned the corner and nearly fell down the spiral staircase and to the second floor landing of the chateau. Yet. . . I could still her Lucie crying and I wanted to get back to her.

No

Ms. DeLune was crying ?

I took the stairs down to the foyer and called for her again.

“Ms. DeLune?” I called out then louder ”Clara.”

The crying stopped. I heard footsteps as Clara ran out of her studio. She met me half way down the stairs and bought her arms around me. Her eyes were red and tears were still falling down her cheeks, she somehow managed to look and feel like something solid. I’d thought to kiss her but something more important came to mind.

“I thought I’d never see you again”, We said at the same time.

“What?” she said

“Where is Rose?” I asked, “I’ll explain everything. I just need to see her.”

“She’s at school”, Clara said and I realized I should let her go but I didn’t, “Mrs. Benoit is driving her home.”

“Are you sure?”

“I just talked to her on the phone. I didn’t know how to tell her that you were gone… I didn’t think I’d see you again. I thought you’d gone . . . back to where you…I mean to your home. Where you belong. Your real home. And I was happy but Rose… what was I supposed to tell her?”I wasn't even sure if she still exsisted..."

“Back”, I considered her words but my mind was several places at once, “I am back home. Clara this is my home.”

“Right”, she said stepping back, “Something happened--"

"Yes", I said, "In the shop--"

"You too ? I need you to listen to a podcast.”

 

+++

“Ms. DeLune”

 In all the years I’d known him, I’d never head Fierro yell my name like that. I twisted the lid on my thermal mug and jogged back into the library/

I felt like such a dolt crying over the idea of telling Rose that I had no idea where her father was. . Or if he was coming back. Either way this.  . . Rocket Olsen knew something. I’d heard her Podcast some weeks ago and thought it was some viral marketing campaign.  She knew something and we decided to write to her separately about what had happened.

 “What is it—“I asked coming back into the library.

Fierro had abandoned his neatly written pen and paper letter on the far end of the study table and was standing over my laptop on the other end. I had forgotten to lock it.

“For the love of God, Ms. DeLune.”, He said motioning to my laptop.

“What are you doing? We agreed we weren’t going to read each other’s letters.”

“You were going to send this”, He said

“I was going to delete that part out, I swear. I just put it in to get it out of my system”

“Ms. DeLune, tell me this didn’t happen. Tell me you are embellishing just a bit.”

“I… actually left out a lot of detail but—“

 “We’re going back to the antique store. I’m sure we can figure this out.”

“What? Why?”

“You are going to fix what you did.”

“Fix what?”

“Ms. DeLune have some tact. You’re behaved like a harlot.”

“A harlot?” I said folding my arms.

“You are going back and fixing this.”

“There is nothing to fix. And why are you upset with me? If you want someone to blame look in the mirror.”

“Adultery, Ms. DeLune. Really?”

“I didn’t commit adultery”, I said, and “What do you want me to do? You weren’t even supposed to read it.”

“Clara you are better than this. We are going to find a way to fix this.”

“Really?”, I made a quick move to the otherside of the table and grabbed his letter. I skimmed it but he didn’t try and stop me. The more I read the more my mouth opened.

“A hallucination? You thought I was a hallucination and that my name was silly ?”

“That is not what I said”, He clarified but it’s what he meant.

“You weren’t even trying to come back.” I said skimming again. I was actually kind of moved by the whole thing. It was kind of sweet.

“We are fixing this, Clara.”

+6+

Rose

It’s cold.

So cold I can see my breathe. I don’t like the cold but I guess that’s neither here nor there.

It is quiet here though.

The woods often are.

The boy doesn’t notice me first. He’s covered in a fine layer of dirt and chops the wood with practiced precision. He lays the axe down and gathers the wood, only when he looks up does he see me at the edge of the woods.

“Who are you?” He asks.

“I think I’m lost.” I said because . . . that is quiet true.

The boy wipes his eyes and stacks up the split wood.

“No you’re not”, He says. They sent you didn’t them.”

I don’t like to shout so I take a few steps closer. Somehow dirt has worked its way into his clothes and skin. One side of his face is a very unpleasant purplish red and swollen. He backs up and balls his hands into fist.

“I have to tell you something”, I decide side stepping the pile of dirty wood.

“What?” he says

“You have to wait.” I said

“What’s that mean?”

I clarified.

“You have to be patient. You have to be really patient for a very long time. I know it’s not going to seem fair and it will be very frustrating but you just have to wait. You’ll have to wait for so long, but I’m almost sure it’s worth it. So, please don’t give up. Just wait.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m simply passing along a message.”

He looks at my clean hands and my bag across my shoulder. I slip my hand inside and find one of two red apples.

“Here”, I said placing the apple in his hand, “It’s your favorite.”

“But I—thank you.”

“Well”, I turned back to the imposing woods, “If you’ll excuse me I need to get back home. I’m not quite certain but I believe it’s somewhere through here.”

“Wait”, he says

“I can’t”, maybe if I walk faster I’ll get home faster, “I’ll be late for dinner.”

He stops at the edge of the woods, his head turned to the sounds of a call from the farmhouse just down the way.

+7+

I don’t like codfish, but the tray sits forgotten on the counter with the brussel sprouts and fennel salad.

“This is ridiculous”, Mother calls upstairs as if this were a normal house where you could so such a thing. Somehow Papa hears her. He always shear her.

“Clara. It is the very least you could do.”

Papa is wearing his coat when he comes downstairs and I can hear the keys in his hands.

“This is such a waste of-oh my god”, Mother walks rights into me and puts her hand over her heart and then on second thought quickly hugs me, “You scared me I didn’t see you there.”

“I came back for dinner.”

Despite my preferences Papa decides to hug me. He’s trying to say he loves me even though I am very aware of the fact. Mother pats and re-arranges my hair. Papa kisses the top of my head and lets me go.

“We will be back, sweetheart. Let’s go, Clara”

“This is so ridiculous.”

Mother puts on her red coat and rolls her eyes. She likes to do that

“Rose, we have to go all the way back into town—to run an errand?--Um dinner is on the counter.”

She finds her handbag and I follow her and Papa to the door.

“Wait”, I said digging into my bag, “Take this since you’ll miss dinner.”

Papa takes the apple without giving it a second thought. Then he stops and turns back to me. Mother is  bewildered having not been offered an apple.

“Clara”, Papa says pocketing the apple, “I suppose it is rather late.”                                                

“I’ll drive fast. I’m sure the shopkeeper is still there. He’ll let us look around—I’m sure. Maybe it happens all the time.”

Papa shook his head, “Perhaps we should forget about the matter entirely. I’m not being rationale. I don’t think it’s you I’m disappointed in. I think it’s myself”

 “I was way out of line”, she said glancing at me, “I just . . . I’m so sorry. If that helps.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Let’s forget the whole thing.” Curiously Papa tossed away a letter that was in his pocket.

"I was thinking the exact same thing", Mother smiled and he looked away for just a moment, “Since we’re already dressed, how about how about I take you out to dinner as an apology. You too, Rose.”

“Are you sure”, I asked.  I was still very tired from my journey.

“Yes”, Mother said leading us out the door, “I’m not going to let either of you out of my sight for a very long time.”

++++

BUT LILE WHERE IS EMILE ?

I didn't know that I'd be writing Emile living with them when I wrote this and I didn't want to slap it in there, so let's just say this is before he moves in.

BUT LILE, WHY DOES CLARA GO TO THE PAST, FIERRO GO TO AN AU AND ROSE GO TO THE PAST ? DOES THE TEMPEST TAKE YOU TO BOTH 'CAUSE IN NEW AETERNA THEY ARE IN AN AU BUT AT THE (NOW RET-CONNED)  END TRAVEL BACK TO THE  PAST. !!!

 *shrugs*

I have NO idea what compelled me to write this I've been working on this for at least a year and there is actually an unfinished  novella that this plays off of, which is why I have so much info on Mr. Fierro's backstory. I can't remeber if I did this before or after Tempest Cast but there it is.

By the By Le Vesinet is the small town in the Versailles metro that Clara and Fierro live in, which is in the "state" of Yvelines  I'm not sure I said that alot.