Sins of the Flesh (11 page)

The curé paced nervously about the room. “It will be but a few minutes. You will travel to the château on my bicycle. Your…escort will have one of his own. Ah, I hear him now,” he said in relief. Daniel hadn't heard a thing.
How did they do it?
“Go now, he waits for you at the main entrance.
Bonne chance, monsieur.
”

“Thank you, Father,” Daniel whispered, and made his way outside.

Instinctively, he knew that he was staring at Reuben's son. Even in the dark he could see the same body build, the same chiseled features, the same unruly dark hair. The boy was straddling his bicycle as though readying for a race, and in a way it was a race. A race to reach the château before dawn. He nodded curtly and mounted the bicycle. At first he started off uncertainly, but as confidence returned he picked up speed and pedaled after Philippe until they were traveling side by side.

Reuben's son. The knowledge was so astounding, Daniel still couldn't quite believe it. But he had to believe it since the boy was right alongside him. At that moment he'd have given anything to know what Reuben's replica was thinking and feeling. How much did he know? What had Mickey told him all these years? Obviously not very much, or the boy would at least have written to his father. Daniel sighed wearily. Soon enough he would have all the answers.

Now he recognized it all—the beautiful château where he'd been so happy after the war. The road was the same, the deep ruts, the straggly dry grass along the sides and ditches, perhaps a little more overgrown, but still the same.

The boy was pedaling furiously now toward the huge barn where Mickey always kept the Citroën. With dismay he saw one of the huge swinging doors hanging by a single hinge. He remembered his dog, Jake, a gift from Bebe. How they'd romped through the meadows behind the château! The field had been full of bluebells and yellow flowers. Tears burned his eyes. Memories were a wonderful thing, happy or sad, but he had no time now to dwell on them.

The boy was waiting for him as he pulled up by the barn and dismounted. Daniel hesitated a moment, then extended his hand. “I'm Daniel Bishop,” he said.

“I know who you are,” the boy said in Reuben's voice, his English perfect and unstilted. He ignored Daniel's hand and started walking to the château.

It was strange, Daniel thought that the boy wasn't going to enter the château by way of the kitchen door; but a moment later he understood why when Philippe opened the front door, held it aside for him, and then walked into the library. Daniel watched as Philippe glanced at the portrait over the mantel. Jesus, it was the same. Had he ever been that young? How beautiful Mickey was, and Reuben…Reuben looked…Reuben looked just the way the boy looked now except Reuben's eyes were happy and smiling. The boy's eyes were filled with anger and hatred. Why, Daniel wondered.

Philippe towered over the mantel, one long arm reaching up to lift the heavy painting from the wall. The boy's movements were so sure, so defined, Daniel knew he'd had a lot of practice removing the picture from the wall. When he spoke his voice was cold and furious.

“I know why you're here. It was a mistake for you to come. This is what I think of you and your Three Musketeers.”

Daniel watched in horror as the boy brought up his knee to puncture the aged canvas. The canvas didn't rip, but it tore loose from the tacks and frame. Philippe tossed it aside like a toy he was tired of playing with. Daniel felt like crying.

The boy and his angry deed were forgotten as Mickey rushed to him, her arms outstretched. “Daniel!
Mon Dieu!
I told you he would come, Yvette! Daniel, I can hardly believe my eyes!” Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she made no move to wipe them away. “The same,
chéri,
you look the same. I would know you anywhere. How I've missed you, my friend. I'm so sorry that I've called upon you like this, but I had…Forgive me, Daniel, my manners are atrocious. Daniel, this is Philippe, my son, and, of course, you remember Yvette.” The boy nodded curtly and turned his back to his mother. Mickey looked at Daniel and shrugged helplessly.

Her arm around Daniel's shoulders, Mickey led him to the table, where she offered him food. Yvette was already setting a place for him. “It's not much,” Mickey said apologetically.

“The last thing I had to eat was a raw potato, skin and all, several days ago.” He did his best to ignore Philippe's stormy eyes as he wolfed down the food.

“A good, soapy bath,” Yvette said, her eyes on Philippe. “You, young man, find some clean clothes for Daniel and some strong boots.”

The moment Daniel finished the last bite on his plate, Mickey leaned across the table. Her eyes were swimming with tears. “I wouldn't trade this moment for anything in the world, Daniel. I thought I would never see you again. He does answer our prayers, I know He does. You are the proof. A day didn't go by that I didn't think of you and Reuben. Ah, the tears I shed, they would fill a river. Tell me, what do you think of my son?” she asked in a trembling voice.

“He looks to be a fine young man, Mickey, so like Reuben it's spooky. Why didn't you tell us? You never wrote, you…My graduation, how do I thank you for that?”

Mickey dismissed the statement with a wave of her hand. “No thanks are required, my friend. When one gives, one gives from the heart, out of love. I couldn't tell you or Reuben. He was all I had after you left. He's a fine young man. Right now he's angry because he suspects why you are here. He wants to stay here and join the French Army and fight Germans. He believes he is French, at least half French. I've told him Reuben is his father, but he believes, I…could never tell him I'm not his mother. He…he doesn't know about Bebe. He does know that Reuben is married to her, but not…I couldn't, Daniel, it would have been like ripping the heart out of my chest. Tell me you understand, tell me you forgive me.”

“Mickey, I can forgive you anything,” Daniel said sincerely.

“The years have been kind to you, old friend.”

“And to you. You're as beautiful as ever. Reuben…”

“You must tell me—how is he? I can't stand it another minute,
chéri,
how is my darling?”

“Right this minute I'd say he is one very angry man.” Daniel quickly told her how he'd managed to make the trip with the help he received from his friends. “I know Reuben is sitting in my office right now waiting for news. He has never forgotten you, Mickey, and I think I can truthfully say he loves you now as much as he loved you when he left here. I don't think he's done a single thing over the past years without first wondering if you would approve. Everything was for you, to prove himself. Always for you. He's told me he booked passage here a dozen or more times, but he was so afraid of your rejection, he canceled his plans. He had no wish to cause you…what, Mickey, I don't know…”

“And Bebe?”

“Bebe was…Bebe was a result of Reuben's anger at you, I think. You see, he'd written this letter to you, and in his mind he gave you a certain amount of time to answer it. It was his last letter to you, if I'm not mistaken, other than the note about my graduation. He told me he poured out his heart to you and knew if you didn't answer the letter that you wanted nothing to do with him. He told me so many times that he could understand if you were angry with him, but he couldn't understand why you ceased communication with me. At least I understand now. But he was so tortured, so unhappy. When you didn't respond to his letter he married Bebe. Out of defiance, never out of love. They have no marriage; they never had a marriage.”

“They have two children,” Mickey said brokenly.

“Bebe leads her life and Reuben leads his. They don't see each other for months at a time. Bebe was away for a whole year not too long ago. Reuben has been talking about a divorce, and this time I think he means it. Do you still love him, Mickey?”

“With all my heart. That will never change.”

“What fools you both are,” Daniel said sadly. “So many years of aching and longing, of this one thinking this, and that one thinking that, and all because of pride. Do you recall once telling me that pride is the deadliest sin of all? You both could have had a wonderful life if you'd just settled things between you. So many years…” he repeated.

Mickey sighed. “Yes, I did say that, and yes, I am guilty. At the time…”

“At the time it seemed like the thing to do, and you had the baby, and then you grew fearful that either Reuben or Bebe would come and take him from you. Is that what happened?” Daniel asked gently.

“Yes,” Mickey whispered, her eyes brimming with tears. “I can't change the past; we must speak now of the future, my friend.”

“Philippe said he knew why I was here. He's been told, of course.”

Mickey shook her head. “I…he suspects, I can see it in his eyes, but so far he's said nothing. Over the years I've explained about Reuben and told Philippe he was half Jewish. He accepted that. He doesn't know that both his father and mother are Jewish, and that's the reason you must take him to America. The stories, Daniel, the atrocities! Who knows if they are true…but true or not, I can't take that chance for my son. He was becoming politically involved at the Sorbonne, poring over the newspapers, making plans. Some of his friends from school have disappeared, those who spoke the loudest. I don't want my son to disappear or to be marched off to some labor camp. He wants to join the French Army, can you believe that?”

“Yes, I can believe it. You raised him too well, gave him the best education money could buy. What kind of person would sit still watching his countrymen killed, his country raped and plundered? Do you want a son who is a coward?”

“No, but…I'm a mother, Daniel, I want him safe—safe, do you hear me? Somewhere, someplace, there is a record of his birth. They will find it, believe me when I tell you this. The old doctor in the village helped me when Philippe was born. I have two copies of all the papers, French and American. I guess you could say he has a dual citizenship, but the Germans won't look at it that way. You must take him away to his father. It's all I can do.”

“The boy looks…he seems to me…what I'm trying to say is, I don't think he's going to go with me. He's not a child, Mickey, we can't force him. I thought…when you called, I assumed it was all settled.”

“It is settled. He's going. He won't defy me. Oh, he'll be angry and he'll carry on, but in the end he will leave with you. He'll be very angry with me for a little while, and hopefully that will pass.”

“And Bebe?” Daniel asked.

Mickey swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I must leave the telling of…he will…Reuben will have to explain things. Hopefully, Reuben will tell him I…I kept him safe for a little while. He'll know what to say.”

Daniel wasn't so sure. The shock alone was going to rock Reuben back on his heels. Explanations were going to be difficult. He told her then of Philippe's actions in the library.

Tears spilled from Mickey's eyes. “I lost count of the times he's taken that picture down. He gets so angry. All those wonderful stories he made up about his father. They broke my heart, Daniel. Right now he's 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.”