Aubrielle's Call (23 page)

In Aubrielle’s daze, the room whirled about her. The only motionless place in the maelstrom was where they stood. His hand held her secure in the storm.

His dark eyes flecked with strands of gold, asked the question of her before his lips even moved. “Aubrielle Cohen, will you marry me?”

* * *

John waited on one knee. His hands held her cold fingers. His gaze never left Aubrielle’s pale face.

Why does she hesitate?

Aubrielle’s cheeks had gone from the initial pink blush to an alarming shade of white. Her free hand trembled at her throat.

He stood and pulled her into his arms. “You don’t have to answer now,” he whispered into her hair. “I should have waited. I should have asked this question in private.”

The club erupted into cheers and whistles, mistaking his embrace for confirmation she had said yes.

She gasped and coughed, shaking her head. “No,” she managed before she coughed again.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes.” She cleared her throat. “Speechless.”

The songstress took the microphone. “Congratulations John and Aubrielle.” She raised her hands and clapped.

The crowd responded with renewed enthusiasm.

“Ask everyone to dance,” John called to Toula over the applause.

She gave John a nod that she’d heard, then opened her arms to the crowd. “Let’s have all our couples on the dance floor for this next romantic melody.”

John took Aubrielle in his arms and moved in time with the music. “You look better,” he whispered beside her ear.

“I’ve caught my breath. I think the cigarette smoke bothers me. I’m not used to it.”

He put his hand on her waist, and they danced close as the dance floor filled. “I’m so sorry I put you in that position.”

“You can’t take it back.”

John furrowed his brow. “Take it back?”

“Your proposal. I won’t let you.”

“I pressed you too soon.” He moved to the tempo of the music, but his heart beat triple time. “You’re not ready.”

She ran her hand from his shoulder to his neck and tugged his head closer. “My answer is yes. Of course, I’ll marry you.” She chuckled. “I would have said so before, but I couldn’t find my breath.”

John rolled his head back as relief flooded through him. “Yes!”

Several couples dancing close to them startled and stared.

John took her shoulders and dropped a swift kiss on her lips. “I love you.” He offered another kiss to the side of her mouth. “You’ve made me happier than I can say.” He wrapped her in his arms, pulled her to his chest, and lowered his mouth to hers.

“Save it for the honeymoon,” an older gentleman called to John.

John laughed as Aubrielle’s face colored. He took her hand and her waist and danced across the small floor to their table.

Mae and Maurice Bonet were missing.

Henri raised his glass as the couple approached. “Congratulations,
mes amis
.”

“Thank you.” John held the chair for Aubrielle. “Where is Mae?”

Henri pointed onto the dance floor. “
Monsieur
Bonet appears quite taken with her.”

The waitresses deposited streamers, confetti and
serpentins
horns at each table. Sprigs of mistletoe had been passed around all evening. Their table had four or five ribbon-adorned sprigs.

As midnight approached, Toula counted down into the microphone. The audience came to their feet and joined in the count.

“
Trois, deux, un—
Bonne année!
”

The intimate club rang with cheers. Streamers and confetti filled the air, and the balloons released from the netting.

Aubrielle blew into her horn, laughed and turned to John. “
Bonne année, mon amour.”

“Happy New Year,” John whispered as his mouth claimed hers.

Amidst the joyous celebration, a prophetic conversation, spoken many years ago, replayed in his mind.

“After the depression, there will be another world war.” His friend with knowledge of the future had lowered her head.

He’d known her secret. A passage through time. And she’d known his. The curse of immortality.

They’d talked by the corral on a dusty and hot summer day. He’d hooked a boot heel over the lower rung of the split rail and watched the horses as she whispered her warnings of the future.

“I wish I’d paid more attention in World History,” she’d said with an apologetic half-smile. “But I didn’t, so I can only give you generalities. Germany and Russia attack Poland, then the entire world will pause, like the dead air before a tornado. The inactivity will last for around six months.” She’d shaken her head and shrugged. “Maybe more. I know it’s less than a year. After that, the German army will sweep south and east, taking most of France in its grasp. It’ll happen fast. A blitzkrieg. They’ll bomb whatever they can’t occupy.”

She’d lifted her heavy blonde curls to catch a breath of air along her neck. “During the war, the safest place to be will be America.” She shook her head. “Well, except for Hawaii, and whatever you do, Jim, once this war starts, don’t go to Japan.”

CHAPTER 31

Aubrielle held Éclair’s lead as she turned the pony cart into the
Champs-de-Mars
. Tulips bloomed in the flowerbeds. Their petals damp with morning dew. The trees, skeletal and dark yesterday, shimmered with the pale green of tender buds. Squirrels and birds chatted overhead as she walked to her usual selling place. Late April had left the bitter winter winds behind. The scent of damp earth and fragrant young blossoms drifted past her on a warm spring breeze.

She wedged a block beneath the wheel and lifted the tarp from her bread display. Behind the stand set a paper-wrapped package of croissants. Mae sent a dozen of the flaky pastries with Aubrielle to the park every day for Henri to take to Maurice.

Aubrielle tugged her stool from the cart and placed it beside Éclair.

There’s likely a note tucked inside the package to Monsieur Bonet
.

The sparkle in
Tante
Mae’s hazel eyes this morning lifted Aubrielle lips with a delighted grin.

As she waited for the morning’s first customer, her thumb played with the diamond ring on her left hand. She and John had argued again last night after he’d asked her to leave France and return with him to America.

His details about how they would accomplish such a move were always vague, like his fear of a German invasion. His unreasonable alarm grew daily as news of the war in Norway continued.

The Nazis will never get past the Maginot Line
.

The Germans knew it too, so they invaded Norway. France was safe.

Then why is John so frightened?

French and British troops guarded the border with Belgium. Paris would never be at risk. And even if his fears were well-founded, John should know she could never leave
Tante
Mae.

Aubrielle looked up as a shadow blocked the morning sun.

A gentleman stopped to look over the loaves of freshly baked bread and baguettes. “These smell delicious,
mademoiselle
.”

“They were baked fresh this morning. The loaves may still be warm.” She rose from her stool.

“Are you here every morning?” As the man reached to select two loaves, he turned his head revealing a dark discoloration along his jaw. The red-purple patch extended down his neckline.

Aubrielle placed his purchase in a bag. “Most mornings.
Oui
.” She didn't want to stare at the birthmark, or burn scar, but she had seen them somewhere before. “I’m sorry, but haven’t we met?” She collected his coins.

“It’s always possible,
mademoiselle
. I’ve lived in Paris for some time.” He took his bag of bread from her hands. “Perhaps we passed in the park or spoke at the market.” He pointed to his scar. “I’m a hard man to forget.”

“That must be it.” Aubrielle’s cheeks burned with embarrassment.

The man tipped his hat and turned away. “If these taste as good as they smell, you shall certainly see me again.”

“
Merci
,” Aubrielle called over her shoulder as she reorganized her display.

A steady stream of morning customers kept Aubrielle busy, and the strange encounter with the scarred man slipped from her mind.

Near noon, Henri crossed the wide parkway. “Good morning, Aubrielle,” he called and touched his cap. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, and one finger held his jacket draped over his shoulder. “What a beautiful day.”

“You’re in a good mood.” She retrieved the package for
Monsieur
Bonet.

“I have to be. Bébé told me she loved me last night.” His grin widened. “Ah, springtime.”

“You blame the season for her affection?” Aubrielle raised an eyebrow as she handed Henri the wrapped croissants.

“What about you and Big John? Have you set a date yet?”

“No. Not yet.” Her bright smile faded. “But we will soon.”

“I best get these back.
Monsieur
Bonet is waiting for them, I know.” Henri kissed both sides of Aubrielle’s face then waved as he walked away, whistling at the birds in the trees.

By mid-afternoon storm clouds were building. When the wind picked up, she covered her remaining goods and unblocked the cart. She had just turned Éclair around when she saw John enter the park.

He waved and double-stepped across the walkway. “Heading home before the storm?” John took Éclair’s lead and leaned down to kiss her lips.

Aubrielle wrapped her arms around his waist, beneath his light jacket. The warmth of his body felt luxurious on her chilled arms. She remained beside him, tucked inside his coat beneath his shoulder as they exited the park. “Will you be able to stay for dinner?”

“Of course.” He kissed the top of her head.

When they returned home, Aubrielle helped John settle Éclair into his stall behind her old home. Mae had rented the converted garage from the new owner next door.

As John and Aubrielle climbed the back steps to Mae’s kitchen, raindrops pelted their heads. Aubrielle uttered a small shriek at the cold droplets and ran in through the back door.

Inside, Mae’s kitchen was fragrant and filled with the sound of sizzling sausages and laughter.

“
Bonjour,
John.” Maurice Bonet called from his seat at the table, wine glass in hand. He rose when Aubrielle followed John into the kitchen. “
Bonjour, mademoiselle
.”

“Maurice stopped by, and I asked him to remain for dinner.” Mae moved the skillet to an unlit burner and turned off the flame. “Tonight we shall have
boudin blanc
and the last of the fall potatoes.” She gestured to the empty chairs. “Please sit. Dinner is ready. I know the men need to be off to work.”

* * *

John held Aubrielle’s chair as she sat beside Maurice at the table, then John claimed the corner seat for himself.

Mae placed the skillet with sausage and fried potatoes on a trivet on the table. “Help yourself.”

From the front room, the radio newscaster reported the latest information on the war effort. British troops had begun to pull from central Norway. There were reports of early civilian evacuations as Germany tightened their grip.

John clenched his jaw and stared at the empty plate. Nothing he said swayed Aubrielle’s determination to remain with Mae. Her faith in the French fortifications remained unshakable. A glint from her neckline caught his eye. The Star of David shimmered in the light. One didn’t require knowledge of the future to know how Hitler felt about Jews.

Why won’t she listen to me?

After dinner, Maurice kissed Mae on the cheek. “Thank you,
ma chère
. Seeing you is my greatest pleasure.”

Mae blushed and tucked her chin. A delighted smile spread across her face. “Please, come by again. Anytime. You are always welcome.”

Maurice looked at John while he adjusted his hat. “Would you like to ride to
La Fleur
with me?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Maurice winked at John and Aubrielle. “I’ll wait in the car. It’s parked out front.”

From the back porch, John watched Maurice disappear between the buildings.

“I’m happy for Mae.” Aubrielle took his hand. “For them both.”

“I know. Me too.” As he turned to kiss her, his glance caught her necklace and he paused.

“What is it now?” she asked. Her tone sharp with annoyance.

He straightened and looked down at her narrowed eyes. “Do you have to wear your father’s necklace?”

Her eyes widened. “Now you’re worried about my jewelry? What will be next?” She folded her arms and moved away from him. “Improper footwear?”

John exhaled between pressed lips. “You know what’s happening in Poland.” He leaned toward her, matching her anger and pointed north. “You understand what the Nazis are doing to those who offend Hitler. The Roma Gypsies. The Jews.
You know
.”

“Hitler isn’t here, John.” She tossed her head and looked over her shoulder. “Only you are, with your never-ending fear.” She looked up at him, anger furrowed her brows. “Don’t make Maurice wait for you.”

He reined in his anger and softened his voice. “Aubrielle, my concern is for you.”

“Good night, John.” She ducked inside and yanked the door closed.

John watched her silhouette retreat from the door. “Damn it.” He ran a hand through his hair and hurried down the steps.

After the club had closed, John sat at a table with Webber and Henri.

Henri pulled his necktie loose and came to his feet. “Good night,
mes amis.”
He stopped suddenly and turned to John. “I forgot to tell you. Marcel said he saw Karl yesterday.”

“Where?” John sat forward. “Where did he see him?”

“Near the market you went to with Aubrielle. Asher’s was it?”

John nodded. “Did Marcel speak to Karl?”

Henri took a step back. His glance skipped to Bébé, who waited beside the stage door. “No. He only caught a glimpse of Karl through the shoppers.” he took another step back. “But I thought you’d want to know.”

“Thanks, Henri.” John rose and pulled his jacket from the back of the chair. “Have a good night, Web.”

“Toi aussi,
John.”

John changed out of his work uniform in one of the small dressing room behind the stage. He hung the black suit on the rack beside his name.

Outside, he inhaled the fragrant spring air, chilled in the early hours before dawn. He caught a cab and made good time home. At that time of the morning, traffic was light. The rain which had sputtered on and off all evening had stopped but left the streets wet. The pavement reflected every set of headlights they passed.

As he climbed the stairs to his apartment, he couldn’t tear his mind from Karl Reimer.
Where were he and his men hidden?

Once inside, he pulled off his tie while he navigated through the dark apartment. He slowed near the front window to check if Aubrielle’s light was on. It wasn’t. The darkness in the window across the alley tugged at his heart.

I push too hard.

He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it over the kitchen chair as he walked to the bedroom, and stopped.

Aubrielle’s scent, a light musk mingled with a delicious fragrance all her own, filled his senses. From the window, a street lamp cast its shaft of light across his bed and caressed her bare shoulder while she slept.

John removed the rest of his clothes and slipped beneath the covers.

Aubrielle blinked sleepily and rolled to her side, allowing him more room, then snuggled close, angling her leg across his. “I used your key again.”

“It’s your key.” He kissed her lips then tucked her head against his shoulder. “I didn’t expect you tonight, though.”

“I know.” She ran her hand across his chest. “But I needed to tell you I’m sorry.”

He kissed the top of her head and pulled her tight against his body. “I’m sorry too. I push you too hard.”

“Your concern is for me. I know that.”

“I couldn’t live with myself if anything were to happen to you.”

She tipped her head back as her hand slipped low across his stomach and found the evidence of his desire. “I love you,” Aubrielle whispered. She took him in her grip and lifted her face to his.

He gasped softly then lowered his mouth to hers. “And I love you. Only you.”