21
LI
For weeks,I’d debated the best course of action for my life. On one hand, my feelings for Fiona were clear, as they’d always been. However, she’d complicated things by bringing the boys into the equation. Raising two little boys would be hard enough for a young woman, but what about one married to a man like me? Would the boys be in danger if I were their guardian?
Their life couldn’t be any worse than if they’d stayed here and lived on the streets. But what about a life with Fiona and me? What would that be like for them, better or worse?
I was contemplating all this when Fiona hustled into the room. “I’ve gotten a telegram from Papa. They’ll be here tomorrow.”
“So soon?” My stomach hollowed at the thought. Our time as we’d known it was coming to an end.
“Yes, and they’re fully aware of what’s happening here. You and the boys, that is. I wrote to Mama a few weeks ago and told her about the boys. And of your presence here.” She handed me the telegram from her pocket.
Be there tomorrow morning. Stop. Will discuss future plans then. Stop.
“You told her I was here and about the boys?” I asked, not because I didn’t know the answer but as an expression of surprise. “Why are you only telling me now?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t want you to be alarmed.” She looked directly at me before smoothing her dress and walking to the windows, where she stood in a sliver of shade. “And run away from me.”
“Run away? Where would I go?” I smiled until I realized she was not saying it in jest.
“There’s a whole world of places.” She glared at me before flexing her fingers as she sometimes did before she played the piano. Did she want to shove me? I couldn’t blame her if she did. We’d been skirting the subject of the future for weeks now.
I rubbed the corner of one eye, perplexed. What did that mean? “Are you all right?” Did the prospect of facing her parents make her upset, or had I done something?
“Telling them—it had to be done,” Fiona said. She wiped her hands in a discarding motion. “She and Papa should know what to expect when they arrive.”
“What did you tell them about me?” I asked. “About why I’m here.”
“I told them it was complicated and that I would explain when they arrived.”
I studied her. In the silky pastel morning light through the windows, she was as beautiful as she’d always been. Even more strength and determination had seeped into her visage. She was still delicate to look at, but more than ever her exterior belied her interior. Caring for the boys had brought a new aspect of womanhood to her. She was no longer a child. The morning we took the boys home with us, any lasting immaturity had vanished.
“I’m afraid they’ll be angry with me,” Fiona said. “Not about you—that will perplex them, of course.”
“Perplex them?”
“They thought you didn’t want to leave your grandmother alone. They’ll find it strange that you changed your mind.”
I looked away from her steady gaze. She didn’t have to say it. My actions perplexed her as well.
“But the boys? They’ll think I’ve lost my mind. Their disapproval used to be one of the worst things I could imagine. Now, however, I have the boys to think of. I have to put all that aside and do what I believe is best. Even if it angers them. They’ll come around, eventually.”
At great sacrifice to her own life, I thought, but didn’t say. I wanted to ask her if she was sure about all of this, but I already knew the answer. Words meant nothing in this scenario. Only actions mattered. She’d made her stand, and she would not back down from it.
I gazed at her, full of admiration and more love than I’d ever thought possible. That was the thing with Fiona. I thought I loved her yesterday, only to wake to another day with even more love in my heart.
“Still, as brave as that sounds,” Fiona said, “I'm scared of what they will do. Ultimately, Papa has the power to take away my trust if he wants. Or to forbid the passage of the boys across the seas. I am at the mercy of a man, as I will always be.” She peeked up at me from under her lashes.
She did not have to say it; I knew she meant me as well. I’d denied her my love, leaving her no other choice but to continue forth, broken heart be damned.
I should do the same. Leave her be.
The last few nights as I lay awake, restless and hot, I’d thought a lot about what I should do next. My conversation with West was heavy on my mind. To him, it seemed an easy choice. If I loved her, let her know. Give her everything I was capable of giving.
But there lay the rub. How much was there to give? I was not penniless but not rich. I would never be able to give her the kind of lifestyle her father gave her stepmother. A musician’s fees were limited. We would live comfortably with full bellies, playing our music as we’d always done as a way to fortify our souls. So, then, what was the problem?
“Are you sure you want to leave Paris early?” I asked. “What about your recital?”
“I don’t care about it. I never did. I came here to…” She seemed to think better of what she was about to say and instead walked over to the piano and sat.
I joined her, standing to the side of the bench. She plucked a listless tune on the piano. From the kitchen came the sounds of the boys and Gabriella talking in French about breakfast. She was asking them if they wanted crepes or eggs, and Bleu had answered asking if they could have both.
Basset was due to the apartment any minute. When I’d been able to, I’d stayed in the living room while they had their lesson. He’d predictably behaved himself in my presence.
“I just want to go home,” Fiona said. “And see my sisters. Figure out what is next for me and the boys.”
I motioned for her to scoot over so I could sit beside her. Her eyes widened in surprise at my request. I’d not sat next to her since she’d told me her feelings all those months ago. The words that came out of my mouth astounded me. I’d not planned them. “What if we were to stay here with the boys?”
“Stay here? In Paris?”
“I’m tolerated here much more than I am in America.”