Blood Ties (7 page)

He hung up. “A tow truck should be along in a few minutes or so.” He glanced down at my lap. “Seatbelt please.” I latched myself in. He turned the car around and we headed back towards Jen. My window rolled up and I suddenly felt claustrophobic, trapped.

“Beware of drama,” I said. “Her wreck has seen better days. Jen cares for it like her baby.”

He laughed. “Drama doesn’t scare me.”

As we turned a bend in the road I could see her. She had lost it. She was kicking the tires, screaming.

“Major Drama,” I whispered under my breath. I heard a soft chuckle from Dr. Marcheon.

She didn’t notice us swinging around and pulling up behind her. I got out and walked towards her. She saw me and grinned. “Hey … don’t mind me. Just relieving a little stress.” She looked behind me towards the Mercedes. “Who’s that?”

She was going to love this. “Dr. Marcheon. He was headed out of town and offered to help. A tow truck should be here in a few minutes.” At first h
er face was incredulous then an elated grin broke out.

“You dog
, you … how perfect! Take advantage of it girl.”

I gave her a fierce look. “Don’t you dare breathe a word!”

Everyone would think it was more than a coincidence. It would be all the buzz in the building. I’d be bombarded with questions, stares – and Addie. I had a suspicion she had a stalker streak in her. He was all she could talk about. Next thing you’d know, she’d be out on the road, her car conveniently broken down, hoping he’d swing by.

Jen crossed her heart and gave me a somber look. “It’s just between us. Although I hope you don’t mind me elaborating a bit on our adventure … a stud Canadian Mountie, single, tall dark and handsome, more than willing to help.”

“Elaborate away. Just keep him out of it.” I looked back at the Mercedes. “Well, do you want to meet the dreamy ‘prof’? He didn’t want to interrupt you in the middle of your theatrics.”

Jen broke out into laughter. “Now I’ve definitely got to meet him.”

She followed me back to the car and the passenger side window slid down. “Dr. Marcheon, this is my friend Jen.” I waved my hand towards her heap. “And baby.”

He gave her a charming smile. She let out an audible whoosh. I pinched her leg where he couldn’t see and she swatted at my hand. “It’s a pleasure meeting you Jen. I hear you’ve been touring Cape Breton. I hope you enjoyed it. It’s one of my favorite places.”

She gave him a flirty look. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you too. I’ve heard a lot about you from Liz.” I dug a sandal into her toes. She squeaked, “It was nice of you to help us out.”

“My pleasure.” His words slithered across my skin like a warm wet kiss. Jen let out a long shaky breath.

“Would you like a ride into town with us?” He glanced forward. “It looks like your ambulance has arrived.”

“Ah … no thanks, you two go ahead. I’ll go with the truck. I need to make sure they handle it with care. It’s been in the family forever – a temperamental antique. Besides, I need to make arrangements, squabble with a mechanic, you know, more theatrics.”

He smiled. “I understand completely.”

“Well, again, it was nice meeting you. I’d better get going before he shreds my bumper to pieces.” She leaned back
and turned away to mouth, “OMG.” She grinned mischievously. “Have fun.”

I got back in the car, giving
him a tight smile as I snapped myself in. The car accelerated at a fast rate. I looked out the window, uncomfortable in the silence.

“Dr. Marcheon …,” I began, play
ing nervously with the seatbelt, “have you ever been to the states?”

“No, I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure. Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering. I mean, you seem so well traveled that I thought you’d had a chance to see the Midwest.”

His dark lashes were incredibly long, just like Michel’s
, his deep voice, so similar but yet different. There seemed to be something in it, like an undertone, a resonance. I studied his forehead. Michel had a scar above his right eyebrow. I let out a shaky sigh of relief. His brow was unmarred. If I’d seen it, I’d have jumped out of the car. Scratch that. I’d have enough sense to not jump out of a moving vehicle. Maybe.

“No, most of my work has taken me to Europe, occasionally the Middle East and Asia.”

So I hadn’t run into him before. Maybe as a kid, I’d seen him in a magazine or on TV. Boy he’d aged well. “Your accent, were you born in Canada?”

A small smile played against his face. “No, I was born in France. I haven’t been home for a very long time. However, I do travel to the country frequently for consultations.”

“Oh.” I looked through the windshield at the road ahead slowly tensing. All my dreams played in Technicolor French. “So where is home ... in France?” My voice came out a bit squeaky. I bit my lip and watched his expression.

He gave me a quick glance. “A very small place. You could call it a hamlet.”

That didn’t help. Why couldn’t he have said he was from a big city, like Paris or Marseille.

“Your family, do they still live there?” I asked quickly, trying to keep my thoughts away from the nervous churning in my stomach.

The smile left his face as he stared at the road in front of him. “My family, they’re all gone now, except for my sister and I.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s alright. It was a very long time ago.”

My body constricted, uneasy,
as if it were trying to remember a dream, a physical cellular memory you weren’t sure you wanted to remember. I glanced at the speedometer. Couldn’t he drive a little faster?

He broke the silence after a few moments. “Have you had the chance to travel?”

“Not much, just a few trips out west, Wyoming, Montana … the Dakotas.”

“And your family?”

“I have three sisters. I’m the only one who has escaped from Iowa. I guess you could call me a bit of an adventurer.” He nodded, turning his attention away from me. We had arrived at the campus.

I gave him directions to my building. As we pulled up to the curb, I remembered the white house. “I was out exploring the cliffs and noticed a house. Someone told me it might be yours?” I was fishing, but curious me, I wanted to know who lived in it.

“Yes, it is. My sister Selene and I built it two years ago. It looks a little ostentatious doesn’t it?”

I supposed it was the perfect word for it. “Yeah, well, no, it just seemed so remote, I mean, it’s in such a desolate area of the coast.” I looked down
and picked at my jeans, wishing I could escape. What had possessed me to ask about the house? It only prolonged close proximity.

“
She had a hand in that. She has a particular interest in the area. She loves the ocean.” Feeling the heat of his eyes, I looked up. He watched me pick at my jeans with an odd look on his face. I stopped and smoothed my hands nervously down my thighs.

I reached for the door handle. “Well hey, I should be going. Thanks again for your help. See you Wednesday.”

“You're welcome and I’ll see you then.”

I got out and forced myself to walk casually
up to the front door. I stole a quick glance behind me. He’d already gone. I let out sigh of relief and walked inside.

I pulled out my laptop and
skyped my grandma Ione for a face-to-face.

She picked up on the first ring. She was a cute eighty-year-old in her carefully coiffed white hair. She looked “dolled-up” as she would put it. Her wizen
ed face crinkled into a happy smile. “Liz. How are you sweetheart? How’s life in St. Germaine?” She had a light German accent. She’d come over from the old country when she was a child and still hadn’t lost it. It was a source of pride and she laid it on thick when she could.

“Wonderful. I love it here Grandma. It’s like I always pictured it. Lots of trees and fog. The ocean is just beautiful, absolutely unbelievable. You can’t imagine the air, it’s heavenly.”

She chuckled. “I knew you would love it. So tell me, anything interesting going on?”

“I got a job on campus. I’m an assistant to one of the art professors. I just started today. I think it’s going to be
pretty easy.”

She looked interested. “Oh, so tell me about him.”

“He’s great. Everyone’s in love with him. Long hair, you know how I love long dark hair.”

Her face lit up. “He sounds like a dish. Is he married?”

I scowled. It was just like her. She’d married off all of my sisters with her machinations.

“I’m sure he’s got a slew of girlfriends. My next-door neighbor Jen and I went for a drive around Cape Breton today. On the way back our car broke down. Guess who helped us out?”

“Hmmm, let me guess. Your professor?”

“Yes.” I heard the hint of a squeal in my voice and pulled it back. What the hell was wrong with me? I frowned. “I know you Grandma. Don’t even think about telling anyone. They’d be throwing parties thinking I might
even have the slightest interest in dating, when there is absolutely none whatsoever. And never will be.”

She pursed her lips as if trying to hold
back a smile. “I swear. What’s his name?”

“Marcheon … Dr. Marcheon.”

Her eyes widened and she grinned. “Really,” she said, dragging out the word. “It sounds French, is he?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Yeah, he grew up in France.” My sister Jules pinged me an instant message. I sent her back a quick note that I was on video with Ione. She sent me back a yellow unhappy face. I blew her a raspberry.

“He sounds interesting. I’m looking forward to hearing more about him. I won’t tell a soul. God forbid I create uproar and everyone starts planning your wedding.” She saw my face and laughed.

I glared at her. “God Grandma.”

She gave me a broad smile. “God has everything to do with it my dear.”

Yeah, well, whatever the hell that meant.

I heard the doorbell to her apartment. “Got to go sweetheart,” she said with a breathy gush. She leaned close and winked. “My hot date is here.” She might be in her eighties but she was a feisty gal, making the rounds in her assisted living complex. Behind her back we called it her hobby. Never a dull moment, my grandma Ione. Her door opened and an elderly gentleman sauntered in, portly, bald, and dressed to the hilt, complete with a tip of a white handkerchief peeking out of his breast pocket. She blew me a kiss and told me to take care, then hung up.

I rang Jules back but she didn’t answer. I started flipping through my emails – junk, delete, junk delete, delete delete. Oh look, three from John – delete, delete, delete. He was my ex-never-was-a-boyfriend from home. He’d been the captain of the track team and his dad was a deacon
in my family’s church. His and my parents had tried to get us together. John, well, he’d been trying to fix us up on his own. He had done everything but ask me to marry him, without even a date.

Jen burst in. “Okay, okay I’m here. What happened?”

“Try knocking next time. I could have been prancing around naked.” I put my laptop down and slouched into the couch. She sat across from me and leaned forward.

She was breathing hard. I bet she’d run all the way up from the parking lot.

“Nothing. We just did the small talk thing, you know, where he grew up, where I grew up.” I got up and went into the kitchen. She followed me. I pulled out a couple beers and gave her one. No Canadian moose piss. I liked the good stuff, Michelob.

She unscrewed the top. “Did he give you the look …
you know that look?”

To Jen, the look meant the slow, come hither friendly look that guys subtly gave to girls they were interested in, without appearing too interested.

“No.” I glared at her. “How could you even think that? It would make working with him completely uncomfortable. He’s my boss and besides, they have rules about fraternization between faculty and students.”

“My God, you are hilarious! I’d jump on him like a horny toad.”

“I’m sure you would,” I replied dryly.

She filled me in on the ordeal at the mechanic shop as we walked out onto the balcony. Night had fallen. Only the sound of the crickets, cicadas, and Jen’s voice disturbed the dead silence.
A soft breeze, full of the fragrance of evergreens and sea floated over my skin. The moon hung suspended in a sea of stars. I was suddenly struck with a thread of loneliness. I slipped into comforting thoughts, wondering if Michel could see the same stars. If only –

***

I was awakened by a loud commotion outside. It was a chorus of terrified screams. I ran to my window and peeked out. The moonlight and an occasional flash of a torch illuminated men and women running – screaming. Terrified, I pulled back from the window and ran to my door.

Father rushed in. The faint light coming in through the window illuminated his fearful eyes. A shock went through me. He whispered, “Come quick child, you need to hide, be very quiet.” He pulled me away from the door. “Stay until your mother or I come back.” He looked hard into my face and shook me. “Promise me, Alisé. Promise me you will hide until either your mother or I come for you. Only your mother and I, do you hear me!” There was a hard note of desperation in his voice.