“I would never have consented to such a thing, but there was so much blood…and I thought,” Bentifourt sighed, “an artery had been cut. I must say, I’m relieved, the nearest hospital is an hour away.” His voice was weak and stressed, reminding me of his age.
“He’s not in any danger. Nevertheless, he may have cut some ligaments. I’m not an orthopedic surgeon. He needs to be checked out.”
Bentifourt motioned to the two young men holding onto Giovanni. “Theo, David, take the truck and don’t speed.” As they escorted him out, Giovanni turned to me with a wobbly smile. “Merci, mademoiselle.”
I was just happy to have been of service. It was a rush, being called into action, doing what I was meant to do in life. I glanced at the staff members crowding the kitchen. There was a newfound sense of respect in their open expressions, even a bit of excitement to have discovered something special tucked among them.
I was flying high when I felt his presence. I could always feel him, a soft touch on my skin. I looked over my shoulder and found him standing in the doorway, his features carved in stone, eyes fixed on me as if he were seeing me for the first time. Servants scattered as if someone flipped a light switch on a colony of roaches. Bentifourt walked towards him and drew his attention, disrupting the current between us. He blinked out of a trance and abruptly left the kitchen. Would he be furious with Bentifourt? I didn’t want him bearing any anger on my behalf, even though the old man hadn’t exactly made me feel welcome.
“What a day! It seems we have gotten quite a bargain with you, Vera,” Mrs. Arnaud burst out, herself again. Relieved, I smiled; nothing meant more than what Marianne Arnaud thought of me.
“That was bloody awesome!” Charlotte paced back and forth, gesticulating theatrically. “It was like an old episode of Gray’s Anatomy. Blood and guts everywhere. The patient comes in clinging to life and then, when the tired, old head surgeon fails, the young resident steps in––” she wheeled around, “and saves the day!”
“Charlotte, really?” I bit my lip, suppressing a goofy grin. “I feel the need to point out that no one was clinging to life. No guts anywhere, thank God. And I have never once saved the day––I might have ruined a couple though.”
She rolled her eyes in a comically exasperated fashion. “You’re such a bloody stickler for details.”
“But you do have medical training?” Mrs. Arnaud cut in.
“Yes, madame. I have my medical degree. I graduated with honors.” I whispered the last part. “But I still have to complete my residency.” Mrs. Arnaud regarded me thoughtfully. “Madame, I hope I didn’t do anything to get Mr. Bentifourt in trouble. Mr. Horn looked angry. Not that that’s uncommon––” Mrs. Arnaud shook her head, stalling my words.
“Non, Olivier has handled Mr. Horn since he was a child. There is nothing for you to worry about.” She picked up the bloody rags and handed them to Charlotte. “Chérie, take these to the laundry room please.”
Charlotte left the kitchen immediately. A heavy silence caused me to glance up from the table I was busy disinfecting and I found Mrs. Arnaud’s attention focused entirely on me. “I’m going to tell you something, Vera. Not because I’m making excuses––because I believe you will understand.” Taking a seat, her shoulders slumped, deflating with a heavy exhale.
“I was thirty-five when I came to work here. I wasn’t doing well…mentally. My husband had left me without a word, not even a note. Sebastian was a little boy, only six, and always alone.” A tender smile tugged at her lips. “He would sit in the kitchen with me and help with whatever I was doing. Mostly he just kept me company. We became friends instantly, even if we didn’t speak much––he hardly ever said anything. It saved me from my own misery…he saved me.” Lost in the memory, she glanced over my shoulder with a troubled look on her face. “His mother was either out having a good time, or tending to her own needs. And her husband was far from a good parent. He was extremely demanding…never saw him hug the child once in all those years.” When her eyes returned to me, they were filled with an earnest strength. “I know he can be harsh, but try not to judge him too harshly. That man has had very little in his life to be happy about. And may I remind you that all that glitters is not gold.”
I shrank from the slight disapproval in her voice. And although I wasn’t about to forgive his behavior towards me, I had to agree that I had been quick to judge him. Would I have made more allowances for him if he’d been ugly and poor? Probably. I would’ve looked for excuses for his behavior. And pain would have been an obvious one.