+1+
We are caught up to the present. Mr. Fierro is chillaixin in the Irish Country side living . . . in . . an . . old. . . church. wait.The engine started and stopped almost instantly. Hesitantly I tried to turn the key again and after a fog of smoke escaped from the engine the car started to move slowly down the sloped road.
It was an old Buick from one of the only car dealerships in this part of Ireland. I had only used the vehicle once at the end of every month to make a trip to the main village of Carrigaline and then back.
To say there was not much in Carrigaline would have been being far to generous. There was a general store barley standing and a pub that was popular with people passing by on the country road. The scenic route I think they called it. Many people didn’t stay in this part of the country for the very reason I decided to live here. . .or more so Lucie felt it was best.
She was silent more so than I had ever known her to be. The silence was welcoming. We never had to discuss what happened in the close and distant past. We could pretend, for as long as possible, that this was how things always were, at least how they should have been.
So
in the present Mr. F and Lucie have been living together in the back country of
Ireland. Lucie wants him to stay here because Lucie knows that if Victor finds
him, Victor will use him to kill Rose. . . who Lucie loves and wants to keep safe and happy.
Confused ?
I took the one hour drive toward the village in silence except for the sound of the quiet hum from the radio and a few seconds of music but as soon as it would become clear it would quickly disappear again.
There were no parking lots in Carrigaline so I left the car, unlocked, on the side of the road. To walk the entire length of the village takes 25 minutes going both ways while stopping at the three stop signs.
Is that a joke ?
I walked to the post office first , it was single room lined with mail boxes and misplaced packages. There were a few letters from Emile. I could have called him but I feared my voice would give more away than my letters ever could. Apart from the letters there was an large package I had ordered along with a months worth of newspapers that I hoped would usually keep me busy till the next month.
That was it, a two hour drive back and forth for 45 minutes worth of errands.
Wow, I really like this chapter. I think if I were to redo this I would take the plot points of chapter 7 (Essex always being gone when Mr. F looks for him, Victor killing people to drive Mr. F towards him) and have set them in the country.
Even though I found it tolerable living in the Abbey I was not quite ready to go back. I had not had a drink or cigarette since arriving in India and it was something I hadn’t purposely avoided. The pub was mostly empty except for the what I took to be the owner a younger—or older woman, she was 43.
I was only aware of the fact because she proudly displayed birthday cards sent from her extended family. Her elder sons were also present lurking in the back or talking to their regulars.
I found my way to the counter to where she was standing, the television was behind her silently playing a soccer match.
We had met very briefly before when I met the real estate agent here, our introduction nothing more than a few quiet hellos.
“Can I help you ?”, she asked
“I’ll just need a case of cigarettes”,
“Are you sure ? She said, “those things will kill you”
“Nonsense”’
She let the subject go and I began to read the one of the American papers, tossing away the section I found to be useless.
Entertainment,
Comics, Real Estate and Sports.
“You are staying in Wicklow Abbey, right”
“Yes—“
“Haven’t you ever been in the back ? There is a cemetery right there. . . local kids used to go tell ghost stories up there.”
I didn’t say anything at first. Yes, I did know about the cemetery but only until after the paperwork was said and done.
There was no longer a reason for me to leave Wicklow so I decided to begin my garden again. I had slept peacefully that night and just before the sun rose I passed through the main hall of the abbey past what would have been the worship hall and through the back doors
At first I thought it to be a mirage, the low crumbling rows of headstones solely being eroded. I walked through the rows of headstones reading the few that were visible, feeling once again as if I were walking though a city of the dead. A few headstones appeared to have been desecrated not that anyone seemed to care about the people buried here.
I contemplated, with Lucie by my side, if I should move the earth where these people had been laid. Each day I began to dig up the earth but slowly my resolve would weaken and so the cemetery stayed. I hated and grew to enjoy it more and more each day.
Okay
picture this. Mr. F is taking a walk with the more corporeal-ghost-form of his
ex wife and contemplating if he should dig up a graveyard that no ones cares
about to create a garden. I like this. Also I'm feeling the Lucie/Fierro bandwagon.
“Ghost stories”, I repeated
“Yes, not that you have anything to worry about”
I suppose that is what one would call irony.
“Are you from around here”, she asked
I looked up at her suddenly filled with the strange urge to be truthful. Not even truthful I was simply tired of telling lies.
“I mean”, she said taking my silence as confusion, “Were you born here”
“No”
Yes
“I didn’t think so you looked so young , how old are you ?”
“Twenty-nine”
Eighty-one
“Oh, my oldest is a few years younger. . . he’s married though I’m sure he knows some nice girls from nearby towns it must be lonely up there”
“Yes, it is”
Though, I do have my dead wife keeping me company.
At that thought I looked at my watch and while I doubted Lucie had any concept of time I imagined she must have wondered why I was not back yet. It was a simple though ridiculous thing to at the least have someone waiting for you.
“Comeback again”, she shouted on my way out.
“I will”
But only for the cigarettes .
This above section should have really started this chapters. So yeah orgnially the woman he talks to, was originally supposed to me a love interest for Mr. F but “aint’ nobody got time for that” I would have needed at least 3 chapters.
+++
I dragged the large box from the car and up to the bell tower, it was a challenge to do alone but that was how I preferred it.
Alone ): where Lucie can’t hurt anyone
I cut through the box carefully pulling out a light titanium driver. I balanced the golf ball on the grass carefully so it would not roll down the hill. I held tightly to the driver and watched as the ball sailed through the fields in the distance, literally nothing would stop it for miles out.
The next ball followed suit, the others I could still see by the time the sun went down. I had only been vaguely aware of Lucie’s presence there on the lip of the bell. It would have been impossible feat for any human to sit there as she did and I believe that is why she enjoyed it.
Always there, mostly quiet.
So
Mr. F playing golf in the deserted back country of Ireland is the image that
jumpstarted this story. Also he never plays golf again.
In the three months since the abbey became a home, Lucie and had conversations, short ones but I imagined it would be a slow start.
When the sun went down I retired to the kitchen as it was the only room with electricity. I brewed a cup of the bitter Assam tea the general store owner enjoyed so much and began reading The Guardian. I generally read about business and politics and occasionally about the arts. Tonight however it all seemed to be of little interest.
Mr. F : Although what’s this new Games of Thrones show . . . .
I reached to turn the page when the teacup toppled over sending the bitter tea over the paper damaging the ink.
Sofia : Now they are drinking tea ?
LiLe : He’s in Europe it’s what they do. Wait why am I defending myself.
I was ready to call it a night when I noticed the spilled tea seemed to unnaturally avoid the upper section of the Classifieds. I turned the light up and began focusing on the untouched ad.
Coral Street Rare Books & Collectible ,For Sale By Proprietor
Robert L. Essex, Serious Buyers Only
Mr. F (with idiot ball) : Hmm, the tea magically went around the advertisement. I bet that’s the work of some Evil Spectre. I should question it . . .but for plot sake I just won’t .
A phone number and address followed, the name was far to similar to be a coincidence. The next moments went by very quickly. I drove to town, pushing the old car's speedometer as fast as it would manage.
I arrived at the pub just as it was closing. The owner on her way to the car.
"Is something wrong ?"
“No, I just need to make a phone call.”
“Go ahead”, she said opening the door to the pub.
They waited till the very last ring to pick up.
“Coral Street Books”, A woman’s voice said
“Yes, this is—I saw your ad in the paper. I’m interested in buying the shop”
“Wonderful, I can set up an appointment with Professor Essex to start the application process”
“Professor ?”
“formerly”, she said slightly suspicious, “When would be a good time ?”
“I’ll be there the last week of June”
“We will see you soon Mr…”
“Fierro, I’ll be there as soon as I can”
“See you then. . . oh and there is no need to rush. We aren’t going anywhere
So, this is the first time in the whole story where Mr. Fierro’s name is said.
+2+
“No, No, No”, I had never heard Lucie’s voice so loud and demanding and filled with pain, "You can't leave"
“Lucie, I promise I’m not doing this to hurt you. I want to help you”
“No you don’t
“I do Lucie, I don’t want you to live this kind of existence. This is not about you and I anymore—“
“Yes it is”, she said, “I still love you."
She moved towards me for a brief second I felt her hand on mine.
“And I will always love you. You were my first love… however the things we’ve done, the pain we have caused. . . I just need to help you let me go”
She stood at the doorway of the abbey, illuminated by the lights of the car. Her eyes were downcast and I realized she was not going to stop me from leaving.
“I will come back”, I offered
“No”, ours eyes met hers were filled with sadness, “Addison, if you leave here you will never comeback .If you leave you will be forced to make one of the hardest decisions of your life.”
“I’m sorry Lucielle, that is a risk I will have to take.”
I offered her one last good-bye before leaving. For a brief second I allowed myself to feel something.
I made peace with my choice, my sights now set on London.
So, yes Lucie knows what is going on but she’s afraid of interfering because Victor will do something to her family if she does. All Lucie wants to do at this point is protect Rose.
Mr. F is off again in search of Essex so he can find a way for Lucie to Rest In Peace.
Chapter 9
+1+
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 ?”
Also letting your
child walk around a restaurant by herself is a bad idea, just saying.
“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"
No, Clara don’t go.
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.
Oh, the walk of shame
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.
How had I forgotten my own Grandparents were dead ?
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.
Cause of that DeLune School of
Denial we talked about in earlier chapters.
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.
Alice in Wonderland.
Yep, she drew in a book.
She nodded. She seemed perfectly fine for a girl who had been babysat by her
dead grandparents.
Eh, all in a day
Just the thought made me need to sit down before I fainted.
Maybe I had overreacted. I sat down and watched Rose continue to deface the
book.
Harsh Clara, she’s like
almost 4
“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.”
They don’t have
bodies, I don’t have a soul. Good times.
“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.”
Cause Victor told them
to keep her in Italy while he figured out a way to get Mr. F to leave Ireland.
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
Incase you are
wondering Specter!Victor asked Clara
Specter!Grands to keep an eye on her while he did his evil plans. So she is
justified in running.
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.
Like all that hot
Italian lovin’.
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.
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.
.
There wasn’t an empty bench in sight, I backed up next to a wall and sunk to my
knees. 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.
OMG, this is so sad that Clara is crying.
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.”
He was trying to be
cute cause it’s night time in CT.
“ 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
“ 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.
Bella : Chagrin is my
word !
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.
+2+
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.
Okay, it took 9
chapters but Clara is in London and Mr. F is on his way to London.
+++
The St. Mark’s hotel is a beautiful white washed building located off the busy
street in a cozy quiet part of the city. It was quiet peaceful and just what I
needed.
I must have looked like a mess when I entered the lavishly old fashioned lobby, a bar set off to the side
that seemed to be calling to me.
I checked in handing over my platinum card 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.
The service elevator works. Remember that
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.
Oh, you didn’t. Ghost!Lucie helped with that.
“Rose we have to talk.”
She began to prop Ann up against the pillows and did not appear to want to
talk.
“Rose”, I said again, “Just tell me what you and Grandpa and Grandma Elena did
together. Did they introduce you to anyone ?”
Like a crazy blonde
ex-king named Victor.
“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.”
Dead people always are. Well some.
Logic : If they are Specters why aren’t they crazy like Lucie
LiLe : Yes, they are
Specters but they decided to leave the afterlife together and they spend their
days around the place they lived most of their lives. Now whose to say in a few
years they might start leaving cryptic messages in the marinara sauce ?
“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…”
Clara had no way of
finishing that sentence.
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.
Uh, that was a change.
Even though I hadn’t said a word out loud Rose suddenly turned her gaze to me
as if she had heard me.
Creeepy child is
creepy
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.
Oh, it’s just the
adjoining room. I
wonder who is staying in there.
+3+
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.
Okay, Clara we get it. You are fancy.
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 atthe screen for a few minutes.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see Rose propping Ann on the table.
I found a database for French Royalty and typed in a name.
Bourdeaux, Victorious
So now Clara is learning about the enemy. She is getting her Google-fu on.
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, 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, so I decided I needed to see if for myself.
Perhaps something there could help me appeal to Victor's better nature.
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.
Rose is sensing that
Victor and his evil plan is drawing closer.
in. 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.
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.
Clara : Well she
seem’s miserable…I’m gonna go now.
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 immerse experience
Sofia : Ummm ? Really ? Wondering around in a museum. Is any of this really relevant to the plot ?
LiLe : *sigh* Not
really. I just liked the idea of exploring Victor’s past.
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.
I imagine he looks
like Tom Selleck. Also this is Essex. Once again for some reason I keep wanting to write about him.
He gasped taking in the scars along my face before his eyes lingered over
the deep V in the cotton dress I was wearing. I ignored the look, I was used to
it.
“No”, I said pouting a little, “I was just really hoping to see the
exhibit”
Ms. 3 : Is she seriously using her sexuality to get a man to help her ?
LiLe: Desperate times.
If it makes you feel any better in the original version Rosalie watched her do
this.
“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. . 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.
Okay, I think I had a reason for this to happen. I just can't remember it.
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 50 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 in 2007
but I guess the curse has been broken.”''
Remember 2007 was the year LL took place which was why Victor was trying so hard not to become a specrete because then he would have to go down and kill one of his family members. Continuity High Five
“Who died before Victoria ?”
“Probably a Victor, you seem really interested . . .let me see if I can give
you some information."
What !? Does Victor want to kill Rose because she is his daughter ? I mean it would make sense if a Bourdeaux dies every 50 years. The math totally works.
No one thought this ?
Okay.
Well, I probably could
have hammered this one home a bit more.
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 1882 – d. 1907
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.
Ms. 3 : *Glares*
LiLe : She's doing it on purpose to draw attention away from her face.
“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.
Mr. F : That's right. No one calls her Ms. DeLune except me.
+4+
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 h
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.
With the whole pale white skin and pale pinkish-yellow eyes going on.
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.
Or you know maybe she
saw her ghost friend Lucie who was trying to warn her about what was to come.
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 came 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
That's the St. Mark hotel they are staying in.
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.
This familial relationship is hinted at in LL. It doesn’t serve a purpose I just thought it would be a fun fact.
+5+
My head was reeling by the time I got back to the St. Mark. Hotel.
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.
So. . . yeah.
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.
Oh, in my head she is
eating crab bisque.
“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 ?"
Cause Mommy needs an
excuse to go to the bar.
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.
Yeah you might want to
care.
To be honest, I didn’t really care.