A look of relief lit up Chloe’s face.
“Well, that at least is some good news. I was already getting sad about you leaving and talked to Olivier this morning, if you can believe it, about you renting the van Gogh apartment. Right, Oli?”
Olivier nodded. “I am so upset about Giselle. Who knew? I’m glad you have offered this help, Nora. Also, it will be a pleasure to have you here longer.”
Chloe got up from the couch, wiped away tears, and threw her arms around Nora. “We have to think positively about Giselle and hope she’ll go into remission. In the meantime, I’m glad you’re able to help her by staying, and I’m selfishly glad I have my maman here for another month.”
Olivier got up and hugged Nora as well. He looked at his father and said, with a smirk, “You see, Chloe has made me a hugger too. It’s nice!”
Pierre had been watching all the interactions and said, “It is refreshing to see how close you all are. This is how a family should be.”
An awkward silence followed, and then Nora said, “I must have a rest before I visit Marie-Louise. If I don’t, I’m afraid I might not be able to keep my eyes open, no matter how important her words are.”
“Mom, why don’t you stay for lunch and then go?”
“As I said, my dear—I’ve got to have a little nap. I’m not joking.”
ChapterForty
Another five weekswith Atticus
Even though Nora didn’t usually make impulsive decisions, she was glad she had agreed to Giselle’s request to stay longer in Paris. The news of her friend’s illness was distressing, and she felt watching Atticus and the apartment was one small way she could help.
Nora was tired from all of the New Year’s Eve excitement, but she’d promised to visit Marie-Louise that afternoon.
In her typical amusing manner, Marie-Louise texted Nora.
Marie-Louise: Bonne Année! Everyone is recovering from overdoing everything last night … but not when you are ninety-three.
Just after two o’clock, Nora and the sartorially elegant Atticus arrived for their visit. The dog’s eye-catching red-and-black plaid flannel coat had garnered many compliments on the walk over.
“Bonne Année, vous deux! Ah, Monsieur Atticus!” Marie-Louise exclaimed, after a warm bise with Nora. “Comme tu es beau! How elegant!”
“I’m certain he feels quite proud of himself,” Nora said with a chuckle. She handed Yvette a bag of apple beignets she had bought at the bakery, knowing they were favorites of both women.
Yvette thanked her and rushed to get her phone. “Don’t take his coat off yet, please! We need photos!”
Marie-Louise was full of questions for Nora about the skating party and was horrified when she heard about Pierre’s accident. “People just don’t understand how to act in public anymore. It makes me very sad.”
Nora had decided not to say anything about Giselle unless Marie-Louise brought up the subject. It was possible she didn’t know of her niece’s illness, and Nora made a mental note to check with Luc about the matter.
Soon, Yvette appeared with her tea tray. Today’s baked treat was mini-macarons and slices of lemon-poppyseed loaf. After exchanging a ‘bonne année’ bise with Nora and slipping Atticus a biscuit, she retired to the kitchen.
Marie-Louise asked Nora for even more patience today. “The last time I told you about my happy time in England after the war. I was not ready to tell you what I am going to share today.
“Yes, we did talk about your postwar life.”
“Now I am going to tell you something I have never shared with anyone. Not even my beloved mother. The memory has been buried deep within me, but lately it has returned to haunt me. It is part of the reason I decided to tell my story to you.”
She described the summer of 1943, in shocking detail, as a time when conditions had become unbearable. People behaved desperately, sometimes betraying a neighbor for their own benefit. Food supplies were scarce and rationed, electricity worked inconsistently, rats and dirt were everywhere. Medicine wasn’t available but Monsieur Chartrand, the local pharmacist, risked his life to acquire supplies on the black market in order to help those who needed it most. Fear hung in the air everywhere.
“The Resistance fighters were becoming bolder. They were our heroes. We children pretended to be them. Is it hard to understand that sometimes we played games in the midst of all the horror? Can you imagine the confusion in our heads?”
The women looked at each other wordlessly. Moments of silence were sometimes as powerful as words, their eyes said.
Marie-Louise continued in a low voice. “Most days, Paris felt dark and quiet. The usual sounds of traffic and people going to work had all but disappeared. People stayed home. We peeked from behind curtains. But even so some days the sun shone, and birds even sang, and I couldn’t understand how the day could feel so beautiful and yet know it was not. My mother told me we needed to remember to keep going. She was always so strong.
“Some days, different scents came to us on the breeze. It was confusing because there were smells we loved from the boulangeries—bread continued to be baked—and in the spring, the sweetness of chestnut blossoms was there. But it was mixed with sewer smells and…”
