“It could be,” he said. “You found something there, after all. That would mean that Fabrice knew about the box as well—or maybe he’d heard the story, at least. But what secret did the box reveal?”
“I’m trying to figure that out. I wish I knew who ‘Anon’ was.”
Cady went on to tell Jean-Paul what Fabrice had said the night before, about Paulette’s betrayal and his finding her sitting on the carousel horse. “So this is one of the reasons he’s been tormented all these years. He feels guilty because he was fooled by her, and she betrayed his family.”
“I don’t think that’s exactly on point,” said Jean-Paul. “In fact, I think he feels guilty because he still loves her. To this day, he still cares.”
“But... she led to the death of his mother and sister.”
“That’s where the guilt comes in. But love is not always sensible. In fact, it almost never is, is it? I know you’re reading his first book, but the theme runs through all of his novels: an unrequited love that leads to disaster. Much like the poetry Pétrarque wrote while at Fontaine-de-Vaucluse.” He held his hand out for the book. “Look at the dedication ofLe Château. It’s a quote from Pétrarque, about his Laura:
I see, think, burn, weep; and the one who undoes me
is ever before me thanks to my sweet pain:
a war, my condition, filled with ire and pain;
and only thinking of her do I have some peace
“I can’t believe it,” said Cady. “How could you love someone who had betrayed you like that?”
“Love is pain, I think was his point.”
“You can say that again,” Johnny said, joining them right at that moment. “So, what are you doing sitting around? Don’t we have a carousel to save?”
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
PRESENT DAY
CHÂTEAU CLEMENT
Cady
Cady’s favorite part of the day was watching Johnny speak to the owner of the art supply store in Avignon about the carousel, passion in his words. She had taken him with her for supplies, and it seemed that he had caught the fever.
Once a person understands the value of reclaiming trash,Cady thought to herself,it’s tough to go back.
They also stopped by the university briefly, “just to look.” It was obviously not up to Cady to decide whether Johnny pursued a higher degree, but she wanted him to understand that it was a possibility.
As they were driving back to Château Clement, Cady’s phone beeped.
“Could you check and see if that’s Jean-Paul?”
“It’s someone named Olivia,” Johnny, said scanning the text. In heavily accented English, he read: “‘When can they see some examples for ze book about ze derelict château and carousel, with photos of ze owner and dog.’ What is ‘de-re-lict’?”
“Run-down, old.”
“Aaah,” he replied, reverting to French. “But you’re serious? You want to do a book about Fabrice’s creepy old place?”
“I don’t know. I’m thinking about it. I’d like to. But...” Her voice trailed off. How was she even going to approach Fabrice with the idea? He could simply say no, of course, and that would be that. Still, even asking him would have to be handled very, very delicately or he would fly off the handle.
“Why do you care so much? You’re not even from here. My dad says you’re obsessed with my family.”
“Well...”—she had a sudden vision of wrapping her arms around Jean-Paul’s well-muscled torso last night—“maybesomemembers of your family.”
“Why? Family’s a pain in the ass, people always asking where you’re going, knowing someone everywhere you go.”
“That’s why you should consider going to university. Seriously. I never had the chance to go, myself, but it sounds like a lot more fun than hanging around Saint-Véran your whole life. It’s a great little village for families and old people like me, but someone like you should experience more before you settle down.”
