stewing and fretting because you’re here instead of his father. He is so angry. My…my sins of omission are catching up with me.”
Daniel felt Mickey’s pain. “If you think it will do any good, I can try to talk to him. You and I both know that if Reuben had known, he would have moved heaven and earth to get here.”
“No, Daniel, it is I who will have to explain, and I will. Philippe thinks of you and Reuben as his enemies. Somehow things got turned around, and it was too much effort to stop his hatred. He simply would not listen. He made up his mind when he was twelve or so, and he has not changed it one little bit. That painting is the last thing holding him back. He wants to destroy it, but he can’t. He knows that if he does, there will be nothing left of his father to either love or hate.”
“He did a damn good job a short while ago,” Daniel snorted. “He tried to put his knee through the canvas. It didn’t tear, but he’d hoped it would, Mickey, I saw his eyes.”
“All the more reason for him to leave. It’s time for him to meet his father,” Mickey said in an agonized voice.
“When do we leave here?” Daniel asked anxiously.
“Tonight after dark. The curé will come for his bicycle and tell me where you will be met. Probably the rise above the village, but I can’t be sure. After your bath you will rest. Going back will be no easier, possibly worse than coming here. The Germans are closer now. If you put your ear to the ground, you can hear the rumble of their trucks and tanks.”
“And you and Yvette?”
“We’ll try to get to Spain. Yvette is…she saw the Germans gun Henri down in Paris. It was so unbelievable, Daniel, I still cannot cope with it. We’ll be fine, you mustn’t worry about us.”
But he was worried, and the fact that Mickey wouldn’t meet his eyes told him she had no intention of going to Spain. In his gut he knew she was going to join the Resistance. And how in the hell was he going to tell that to Reuben?
“Is that what you’re going to tell Philippe?” Daniel asked uneasily.
“Yes, but he won’t believe me. Still, he can’t very well call his mother a liar, now, can he?”
“Your bath is ready, Daniel, and your bed is turned down,” Yvette said in an emotionless voice. “Leave your clothes and shoes outside the door, and we’ll bury them out by the barn.”
“This is for you, Mickey,” Daniel said, handing over the sack of diamonds Jerry had given him.
Tears welled in Mickey’s eyes. She wiped at them with the back of her hand. “It seems all I do is cry; what must you think of me? Daniel, this is too much. There must be a fortune here,” she said, sprinkling the diamonds on the tablecloth. “How can I ever repay…they…those hateful bastards confiscated everything. Just last year I transferred the major part of my holdings to America. They’re held in trust for Philippe. I have a packet for you when you’re ready to leave. There is a letter for you, too, one for Reuben, and please, don’t read or study any of the…don’t…wait till you are home safe. Promise me, Daniel.”
“Of course, Mickey, whatever you want. As for the diamonds, fortune or not, you will need them before this is all over. Now, m’lady, I think I’ll have that bath,” Daniel said, striving for a light tone.
“Like old times, eh?” Mickey said, smiling. “Oh, Daniel, I prayed you would come. I almost wore out my rosary. Seeing you like this has wiped the years away. If only the circumstances were…Daniel, I…”
“Shhh.” Daniel took her in his arms. “Everything is going to be fine.” On this end, anyway, he thought. As he cradled her dark head, he crooned softly, rocking sideways on his heels. “When we first got back to America I would play a game with myself if I couldn’t fall asleep. I’d picture this château and try to imagine where everything was. I had it down so pat, I knew every nook and cranny. It was so wonderful walking in here and seeing that memory come alive again. We were all so happy here. I never wanted it to end. I’ve never felt that same kind of happiness since then.”
“Until Bebe came,” Mickey said sadly.
“Until Bebe came,” Daniel agreed. “Come with me and talk while I have my bath, for once I’m asleep I will be dead and then it will be time to leave. I want to hear everything, every little detail of what went on since I left here. Jake, I have to know what happened to Jake. God, so many times…”
While Daniel soaped himself over and over, Mickey sat on a stool, her eyes averted discreetly. She talked nonstop until she was hoarse, leaving her story of Jake till last. “Our little Jake was a hero, Daniel. He saved Philippe’s life, what do you think of that!”
“The hell, you say! Everything, don’t leave out one piddle, one paw print,” Daniel cried excitedly.
“In the beginning he missed you terribly when I sent him to Yvette’s farm. There were many girl dogs that he made happy, and he finally settled into a blissful routine. Philippe was almost a year old when he came down with pneumonia. We sat up around the clock, taking turns, Yvette, Henri, and myself, and, of course, the doctor. The doctor had just about given up hope. It was my turn to sit up with Philippe, and I’d gone almost a week without sleep. Several days before, Yvette had brought Jake over for company. He stayed by the door, never venturing anywhere near my chair or the baby’s bed. I guess I dozed off and Philippe started to choke. I didn’t hear him. Jake jumped all over me, woke me up, and, as they say in America, I got to Philippe in the nick of time. Jake was a hero. He’d sat so long, guarding us both that no one thought to let the poor thing out to do his business. Once he saw the baby was safe, he peed on the rocking chair. We gave him some sugar cookies for his bravery beyond the call of duty. He and Philippe were inseparable after that. He was fourteen when he died and Yvette, Henri, and myself gave him a warrior’s funeral. Henri said a blessing. No human’s passing was more grieved. Philippe wasn’t himself for months afterward, none of us were. He did leave a legacy, however, a pup named Dolly, but she died having her first litter. Philippe wouldn’t take one, though. Even now I cry when I think about it. He…he…Jake, I mean…used to go to your room and…and sniff about, picking up your scent. When he did he would…he would just lay there…his eyes so big and sad…I’d talk to him about you…but I don’t know if he understood, and then one day I was cleaning the room you had while you stayed here and I found a sweater that you left behind. I made a bed for Jake and put it in as a blanket. It…it’s still in the closet….” Mickey howled her grief then, and Daniel joined her.
Alone in his old room, Daniel shed his towel and dressed in the clothes Yvette had placed on his bed, his eyes centered on the closet door all the while he dressed. Unable to bear it another second, he pulled open the door and stared down at the wicker basket that held his old gray wool sweater. He dropped to his knees. He reached for the sweater, bringing it to his cheeks. His touch was reverent as he plucked several dog hairs from the collar. “Oh, Jake, Jesus…Oh, God, Jake, I didn’t want to leave you…Oh, Jesus,” he blubbered, hunkering down…the sweater a lifeline to his past. He slept then, on the floor, his sweater with Jake’s scent, after all these years, against his cheek.
“It’s time to wake Daniel,” Yvette said quietly. “It’s almost dark, Mickey. Do you have everything ready?” Mickey nodded. “This is wrong, Michelene,” Yvette continued. She used Mickey’s Christian name only when she wanted to make a point. “You should have told Philippe before…. This is…it’s wrong. Now there’s no time for fancy words. You’ll have to blurt it all out and send him away in an eye’s wink. This is not going to be pleasant,” she
