Authors: Felicia Donovan
The French Girl (23 page)
“You will take her over my dead body!” Giselle shouted. Jean tried to grab her by the shoulder, but Giselle flung her hand aside.
“She’s very upset right now,” Jean said. “If you don’t mind we need time…”
The county woman nodded and backed slowly out the door but stopped and said, “I’ll be by at nine a.m.”
***
Giselle broke away from them and reached for me and pulled me so tight that I felt like I was back in the pool when I got the leg cramp and could not tell which way was up. I struggled against her, but she held on until I remembered Jean’s words about relaxing my body to let it rise. Giselle loosened her grip on me and stood there, stroking my hair over and over.
Susan Weatherby patted me on the shoulder. “I am sorry, Etoile. We gave it our best shot.”
Eppy came over and took my hand in her chin and said, “I’ll come by tomorrow, Cookie, to say goodbye, okay?”
I nodded, but it did not change the sick feeling in my stomach. I turned and saw Anais standing in the corner, watching us. Jean saw her too and walked over to her.
“That was a very brave thing you did, Anais. Would you like to come back to the house with us?”
Anais shook her head. “I need to catch the train to get back and help Madame Duvais.”
“Some other time, then,” Jean said, but we all knew there would be no other time. Not at Stone Cottage.
Giselle gathered herself together enough to go over to Anais and kiss her on both cheeks and squeeze her hand. “
Merci
,” she said.
“I will be eighteen this year,” Anais said. “Perhaps she can come back to Cote Nouveau with me then,” she said to Giselle, but I did not want to go back to Cote Nouveau with its decrepit buildings and closed-minded people. I only wanted to be with Giselle and Jean.
***
We walked out the front door and were greeted again by a throng of reporters. Susan Weatherby stood up on a milk crate and took one of the reporter’s microphones.
“It is a sad day for this State when two loving and deserving, well-respected members of this community are denied a chance to raise a child when so many children are in desperate need of being loved -- all because of an archaic law. We have no further statement.”
I sat in the back of the car as Jean drove us home. Giselle bit at her nails until Jean reached over and took her hand and held it the rest of the way.
***
Giselle sat at the kitchen table staring out the windows at the summer evening. Jean had already gone upstairs and changed into her chinos and chambray shirt. She poured Giselle a glass of wine, but Giselle did not touch it. Jean poured me some milk and offered me a sandwich, but I could not eat anything. Jean made a sandwich and offered it to Giselle, then ate it herself when Giselle turned it down.
“Why don’t you go up and try to get some sleep?” Jean asked, rubbing her shoulders. She nodded and rose very slowly, like an old woman. As she passed by my chair, she touched the top of my head.
“I will be in later to tuck you in,” she said to me, her voice cracking.
Jean waited until she was all the way up the stairs before sitting back down, pulling her chair out and patting her lap. “Come here, Kiddo,” she said.
I climbed up on her long legs as she pulled my hair back over my ears.
“I somehow feel like we’ve let you down, Etoile. I’m so very sorry.”
“It is not your fault, Jean. You tried.”
She nodded and patted my back.
“Etoile, do you remember the first day you came here?”
“Yes.”
“I knew that day what a brave girl you were to come to a strange place where you didn’t know anyone,” she said touching me on the shoulder. “And smart, too, when you had read half the books I’d picked up for you…even if you did get sick that first night.”
I tried to laugh, but could only offer a small smile.
“Etoile, you must be very brave again. It will be all right. I promise you we will stay in touch no matter where you go.”
“Do you think they will send me far away?” I asked, not having thought about that before. I gulped hard.
“Etoile,” Jean said wiping my tear away with her thumb. “We would go to the ends of the Earth to see you. Okay?”
***
I lay in my bed that night dreading having to face Giselle. When I heard her come in, I could not bring myself to turn to her. I lay very still, breathing softly; afraid to change the rhythm of my breath for fear she would know I was awake. She stood by my bed for a long time, motionless, like a shadow. I heard Jean whisper behind her, “Let her sleep. Come on.” Out of the slit of one eye, I saw Giselle cover her mouth with her hand and push away from Jean.
***
Her muffled sobbing evaporated into the sounds of the night, obliterated by the spring peepers squealing from their rain ponds and crickets calling to their mates. I tried to focus on these sounds that had so often lulled me to sleep on prior nights, but my mind would not rest. As I laid there feeling the coolness of the breeze that stirred across my body, my thoughts drifted to Maman and that open window.
I wondered if her arms had been outstretched as she fell, clutching desperately at the ledges and fire exits as they flew by? Or were they tucked tightly against her sides in defiance? Or maybe she folded them across her chest in acceptance of the inevitable? Did she even realize at any point in her descent, that what was about to happen, could not be stopped?
No one could eat breakfast. Jean brought several bags up to my room and helped me pack my things. We did not speak much. When we came back downstairs, Giselle was just as we had left her, sitting on a chair in the kitchen clutching a cup of coffee, staring towards the gardens. Jean touched her lightly on the shoulder as she passed by. Giselle reached for Jean’s hand and squeezed it before letting it go. It was almost nine o’clock.
The phone rang, but no one bothered to answer it. Reporters had been calling all night asking for a statement.
Giselle suddenly looked up and gave a small gasp and then I heard it too, the wheels of the county woman’s silver sedan as it bumped and jolted across the potholes of the long dirt driveway. She pulled up in front of Stone Cottage and we, the three of us, walked out together.
“Good morning,” Mrs. Donaldson said pleasantly, as if she had come to chat about the gardens or the heat.
“Good morning,” Jean answered.
Mrs. Donaldson took some papers out and handed them to Giselle, but Giselle just stared at them. Jean took them instead.
“This is the name and address of the family Etoile will be staying with. You may contact her at anytime, but it would probably be best for her sake if you gave her a few weeks to settle in.”
Jean nodded. “Thank you.”
Giselle just stood there, looking vacantly out at the road in front of us.
Mrs. Donaldson turned to me. “These are very nice people, Etoile. It will be all work out.” She stepped back to the car, distancing herself from us. “I’ll let you say goodbye, then.”
***
Jean knelt down on one knee and held out her arms to me.
“Be a good girl, Etoile,” she said, and then she leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek.
Jean stood back up and Giselle, whose eyes were already filled with tears, began to cry again and clutched me to her. “It does not matter where you go,” she whispered in my ear, “you will always be mine,
Cherie
.”
I nodded and stepped back. Giselle reached into her pocket and slipped the polaroid picture of the three of us into my dress pocket.
“But Giselle,” I said glancing back anxiously at Jean for fear she had seen it, but she put her finger to my lip and said, “Keep it so you will always remember your family...”
I squeezed my eyes tight to try and keep the tears from falling down.
Mrs. Donaldson came back over and took me firmly by the arm and led me towards her car, but I broke away just before getting to it and ran straight back towards Jean who scooped me up in one quick motion.
“Please take care of her, Jean,” I whispered in her ear. “She is not always that strong.” Jean nodded and for the first time, I could see her eyes glistening. She nodded again and set me back down. She put her arm around Giselle’s shoulder and drew her close as Giselle sobbed into her shirt.
I got in the car and turned away because I could not bear to look at them anymore. My eyes stung and my stomach felt loose again, like everything inside was floating around. I clenched my teeth against the feeling that I was going to be sick even though I had not had anything to eat.
I looked back for just a second and remembered that first day and the funny bright red door and how I thought it all looked like a fairy tale and how perhaps it all was because everyone knows that fairy tales do not come true.
Mrs. Donaldson slid in the car beside me and was about to start the engine when we saw a white Volkswagen Beetle, its lights flashing on and off and its horn honking incessantly, come racing down the road. The little car skidded to a screeching halt in front of us, sending a wild show of dust and gravel everywhere.
The doors flew open and Eppy, who was in her white coat, Carol, dressed in her white nurse’s uniform and Susan Weatherby, in jeans and her “Lavender Power” tee-shirt, came running towards us.
Mrs. Donaldson took her hand off the ignition and opened her door. I jumped out behind her. Susan came running towards us waving a paper wildly in her hands.
***
“We’ve been trying to call you!” Eppy shouted.
“What is it?” Jean asked as she and Giselle came forward. Giselle wiped frantically at her nose and eyes.
Susan stopped in front of Mrs. Donaldson and said, “I have an order giving Giselle and Jean temporary custody of Etoile.”
“What?” Giselle and Jean said at the same time as they rushed over.
Mrs. Donaldson shook her head. “I’m very sorry but there’s no judge in the state that has the authority to…”
“It isn’t signed by a judge,” Susan said unfolding the paper. “It’s signed by the Governor.”
Mrs. Donaldson snatched the paper from Susan’s hand and began to read it. I was too afraid it was not real.
“The Governor has been following Etoile’s case,” Susan explained. “That dark-haired woman in the courtroom yesterday is part of the Governor’s Executive Council. She was there to watch what happened and report back. When the Governor got the report this morning, an Executive Order was granted giving Jean and Giselle temporary custody.”
“And tomorrow the Governor will file a repeal to end this archaic law once and for all. Effective October third, Jean and Giselle will legally be able to apply to adopt Etoile permanently.”
Mrs. Donaldson shook her head and threw her arms up.
“I’ll need to confirm all of this.”
“You go right ahead,” Susan Weatherby said. “The Governor’s office is expecting your call. I don’t think Jean and Giselle will mind if you borrow their phone.”
***
“
Oh mon Dieu
!” Giselle said as she grabbed me away from Mrs. Donaldson and yanked me to her. Jean reached down and lifted me up and the three of us stood there, holding onto each other for quite some time. Jean tousled my hair and Giselle kissed me over and over again on the cheeks while the Mrs. Donaldson went inside the house to use the phone.
“Welcome home,
Cherie
,” Giselle said.
“Welcome home, Etoile,” Jean said patting me on the back.
“Giselle?” I asked.
“What,
Cherie
?”
“Can we have some of your ice cream for breakfast? I am very hungry.”
Two months later, on a cool fall day, Giselle, Jean, and I drove to the big, gold-domed Statehouse in Concord. Susan Weatherby was there to witness my officially becoming Etoile Becker-Simone. Just after my papers were signed, the doors opened up and Carol and Eppy walked in. Eppy carried a small pink bundle in her arms.
“Giselle!” I said as they approached us, beaming. “Whose baby is that?”
“It will be theirs in just a few minutes.”
Eppy came over and I looked at the baby’s small, triangular face and the almond shaped eyes, which were so pale to almost be gray.
“We will now all be related,” Giselle said.
“Huh?”
“Look at her,” Giselle said.
And then I saw it, the tiny expression of pride and passion that only a real French woman could have.
“Is that…”
“
Oui
. Anais wanted her raised by good parents. She has chosen well. You will have to help, you know. These two,” she said gesturing towards Eppy and Carol, “they know nothing about raising children.”
***
Outside the Statehouse, there was a small group of people assembled carrying the same signs we had seen outside the Courthouse that day.
“
Oh mon Dieu
,” I heard Giselle say as she searched the crowd.
“Don’t worry,” Jean said, “she’s not here.”
“Are you sure?”
“She’s at Dr. Batchelder’s twenty-fifth anniversary party at the University.”
“Were you invited?”
Jean laughed. “Are you serious?” Putting her arm around Giselle, she said, “Come on. Let’s take our daughter home.”
We walked back to the car and while Eppy carefully set the baby in her car carrier, Carol brought over a bright pink balloon that said, “It’s a girl” on it and handed it to me.
***
As we drove back home, Giselle sang “There’s a New Kid in Town” and “You Don’t Have to be a Star” at the top of her lungs. As we entered the campus area, Jean slowed down as we passed Mrs. Batchelder walking towards Howards Hall gingerly balancing a large tray with a white cake on it. She was dressed in a navy-blue polyester dress with a gold zipper, zipped all the way up her neck. Giselle rolled her window down.
“Please don’t,” I heard Jean say quietly.
I leaned forward to see what Giselle was going to do when a sudden gust of wind scooped the pink “It’s a girl” balloon out of my hands through the open window and into the air.
The balloon drifted up and down across campus, as if riding a huge wave. We sat in stunned silence as the balloon went up, then spiked downward directly into Mrs. Batchelder’s red hair. Startled, she turned abruptly and in doing so, lost her balance. No one said a word as the cake went sailing through the air and landed with a great smash of frosting, onto the sidewalk.
Jean threw her little green car in gear, but not before Mrs. Batchelder turned and saw us. The look of confusion, then outrage was unmistakable. Giselle stuck out her hand, waved and yelled, “It is a lovely day, Mrs. Batchelder!”
THE END