Summer XII

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I awoke late the next morning in the iron cast bed. To my great surprise, I had slept peacefully through the night, but once my eyes opened, my mind was congested by chaos again. I would be seeing my mother again today, and my chest was heavy with all the emotions I was feeling at once. Eager yet frightened. Relieved yet distressed. It all made my head pound.
         I dressed in one of my best suits—a rich blue jacket with shining silver buttons along the front and wrists, a black vest, and matching trousers. I tied back my blond hair and flattened the top with my palms. There was no mirror in the small room, and I hoped I would look impressive to my mother when she saw me later on that evening.
         Until then, Élisabeth and I would walk the city. I needed a way to calm myself, to relax, and I knew spending time with my wife would grant me just that.
         I went to Élisabeth’s room and knocked on the door. At first there was no answer, and I thought she might be already downstairs waiting for me. About to turn, rustling came from behind the door. I paused and knocked again. The door opened slowly and revealed Mardi. She was careful not to open it entirely and stood between the small opening and the frame. Her stance made me curious.
         “Good morning, Monsieur,” she said. Along with the frown upon her lips, she wore a pale yellow dress which had to have belonged to Élisabeth’s sister and had been borrowed.
         “May I speak with my wife?” I asked, glancing through the opening but seeing nothing but the end posts of a bed.
         “The Madame…” she glanced over her shoulder before continuing, “isn’t feeling too well...”
         My heart sank. If Élisabeth couldn’t come with me to find my mother, I wouldn’t go at all. I just could not do it alone. Anxiety growing, I put my hand against the door just above her blonde head. I pushed slightly, but Mardi held tightly onto the handle. “I need to speak with her, Mardi,” I said in a rush. “Just for a moment.”          
         “I’m sorry, Monsieur, but the Madame asked to be left—”
         “Mardi…” Élisabeth’s pale face appeared in the opening. “It’s alright. I’m here.”
         The little maid nodded and stepped into the hallway. Her expression showed that she was unsure about leaving Élisabeth.
         “You may go, dear,” she told her.
         Still frowning, Mardi turned and went down the stairs.
         “You are feeling ill?” I asked, searching her face. The skin under her eyes had gathered a slight purple color and her throat worked to swallow with every shaky break she took in.
         “It is nothing to worry yourself with.” She attempted a smile, but it faded a little too quickly. Opening the door further, Élisabeth stepped into the hall. She was wearing a beautiful gown of gray embroidered cotton. It had a low square neck line and tight middle. The skirt consisted of gather folds that tumbled all the way to the floor. Around her neck laid my mother’s pearls.
         Her eyes traveled over me as well. “Have you decided to look for your mother today?” she asked.
         I nodded, annoyed that she still ignored my question. “Are you feeling well enough to accompany me?”
         “Yes, yes,” she replied and closed the door behind her.
         I sighed. “I was hoping we could see the city first,” I said. “And then find her.”
         She took my hand, and I felt the chill of her fingers. As if she had noticed, her hand fell away and she cleared her throat. Then, she turned to walk away.
         I couldn’t stand this secret any longer. “Élisabeth?”
         “Yes?” She faced me again.
         “Is there something you need to tell me?”
         I watched her eyes grow wide. “W-What do you mean?” she asked. “There is nothing—”
         “I don’t want you to feel afraid to talk to me.” I thought of my father. There had been no communication in my parents’ relationship, and he had believed it was the reason for their arguments. I ran a hand over my jaw and lifted my eyes to meet hers. My newly grown facial stumble pricked my palm. “Ever.”
         She bit her lip, shoulders falling. “I know…”
         
         

         
         Élisabeth and I strolled along the streets of Saint-Etienne with her hand on my elbow as the summer sun pressed against our faces. Little Mardi and Brigitte hurried ahead of us, holding each other’s hands and giggling with joy. It had been my wife’s idea to bring them with us, and even though I had wished this time could be just for us, I did not want to argue. I had different things to worry about, and so my nerves held my tongue.
         Élisabeth watched the girls carefully, her face soft and her eyes full of pride. I looked around at the city shops, all with open doors and wide, shinning windows. Couples passed with children of their own and waved to us as they passed. They too had pride swimming in their eyes, and I wondered what it was like to have a family and feel such a way.
         I glanced at my maid and Élisabeth’s sister in front of us. Mardi, still wearing Brigitte’s dress, clutched her new friend’s hand and began to sing an unfamiliar song.
         “Daisies sway in an open field… Three for you, two for me…”
         Brigitte laughed and swung their joined hands. “What a beautiful song, Mardi,” she chimed.
         “My Mama sings it when she is sad. It helps her feel better,” Mardi replied with a smile. “Love petals picked by young fingertips. One for you and none for me…”
         Mardi’s sweet voice brought a strange happiness to an otherwise dreary song, I thought, but I was sure Mardi didn’t understand its true meaning. 
         We continued to walk, enjoying the heat and the calm city. It was different than Paris in the way that no one seemed to be in a rush. They were taking pleasure in everything around them and in their company.
         I tried to relax my otherwise stiff shoulders and not think about this evening and what it could bring.
         I must have sighed for Élisabeth looked up at me.
         “Are you nervous?” she asked.
         Her question surprised me. “Nervous?”
         She nodded. “To see your mother again.”
         The fear returned, the anxiety, and I swallowed to suppress it. “Yes,” I murmured, hating to admit it, “I am.”
         She tilted her head to the side. “Why?”
         Why? The word almost cause my feet to freeze on the stone walk. I thought the reason was obvious. I kept my gaze forward, and I walked without thought as I responded. “I don’t know if she has changed,” I said, “or what her reaction will be when she sees me…”
         Behind my voice, I could hear another, as if it was hovering above my head.          
         Daisies sway in an open field…
         I tried to ignore it and continue my answer. “When she sees me, will she be disappointed or proud? Will she even recognize me at all?”
         Three for you, two for me.
         “I thought she was dead,” I went on, eyes blurring. “And then I discover she is alive and is requesting to see me? She abandoned me. Should I be angry with her? I feel like she is a stranger. It’s been too long.”
         Love petals picked by young fingertips…
         “Should I forgive her? Have I made the right choice in coming here?”
         One for you… And none for me.
         “Andre,” Élisabeth’s voice ran in my ears, making my mind focus again. She stopped walking and turned to face me fully. Her smile lit up her face, and to my surprise, she laughed. “You think too much.”
         I was about to respond, but she held up a finger to continue. “Your mother misses you, she loves you. It is why she has tried writing to you. It is why she asked you to come here, to see you again.” Her hand lifted and she ran two soft fingertips down the side of my face, along my jaw. I felt my lips part and I turned my head to kiss her palm.
         “She will recognize you,” she said. “She will be proud of you. You are her son.”
         My eyes gathered tears, and I squeezed them tight to prevent the weakness from escaping. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and bring her close. I wanted her to press her ear against my chest so that she could hear the way my heart reacted to her touch.
         “You are seeing your mother again, Andre,” she whispered, lips barely moving at all. “Some people aren’t as lucky.” She was still smiling when she said this, but I caught the truth to her words.
         I frowned, feeling like I needed to comfort her. “Élisabeth, love…”
         She shook her head and looked away, out to where Mardi and Brigitte had stopped their walking and now waited for us. “You must take this opportunity with an open heart and let her be your mother again. Not a stranger.”
         All I could do was nod. Élisabeth was right. I was lucky and needed to welcome my mother into my life again. It was, after all, what I had wanted for so long.
         Some people would never be given such a chance.
         I watched Élisabeth walk over to her sister and to Mardi, arms open wide. The girls embraced her around the waist and giggled again.
         Élisabeth  took both children by the hand. “How did that song go, Mardi?” she asked.
         This time Brigitte and Mardi sang it together as they skipped beside my wife. “Daisies sway in an open field. Three for you, two for me. Love petals picked by young fingertips. One for you and none for me.”