In the Shadows (The Outsiders Book 1) (7 page)

“Are you all right?” Jeannette asked. “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost, dear?”

Maurelle looked up, embarrassed. “I—I’m fine. I’m tired, I guess. Would you mind if I went upstairs to rest?”

The
two older women exchanged a look that Maurelle couldn’t interpret, then Fabienne said, “Of course you may. We’ll take care of the dishes, dear.”

Maurelle padded out of the kitchen, ran up the stairs and into her room, flinging herself on the bed.

Dave left his
grandmother’s house and walked to Café Charbonneau to see Simone about borrowing her car since Fabienne had never learned to drive and therefore relied on other people to take her places or to run errands for her.

The bell jingled on the door when he opened it, and Simone called out, “Bonjour.”

He smiled and walked over to the table she was wiping clean.

“Sorry to bother you,” he said, “but
Grand-mère asked me to run errands for her in Vendome. Since she doesn’t have a car, I need to ask if I can bother your car.”

She tilted her head. “Isabelle is working today, and it’s slow. I could drive you wherever you need to go.”

“That’s not necessary. These errands could take a while and they won’t be fun.”

She shrugged,
handing over the keys. “No rush. Keep it as long as you need. You know where’s it parked, don’t you?”

He nodded. Simone always parked in the same space in the small parking lot behind the café. Finding the car wasn’t the problem
, but getting into the tiny car was a real challenge.

After traveling for
half an hour to Vendome, the nearest large town, and spending an hour running errands, Dave drove back toward Reynier. During the drive, he thought about Maurelle. He couldn’t imagine how she’d lived in that cave. How desperate she must have been to resort to that. What she was running from had to be pretty serious. Was it something she had done? Or something done to her? He instinctively felt the latter was the more likely, as she seemed to him to be honest and straight. He drove up the slight hill to the café, pulled into the parking lot, and turned off the engine. As he walked into the café and handed Simone’s key back to her, he also reminded himself ruefully that his instincts weren’t always to be trusted.

Simone slipped the key in
to her apron pocket while she waited on a customer. Dave quickly stepped outside before she finished and could engage him in conversation.

He rushed toward his grandmother’s house.

“Dave, wait!”

He stopped and turned around to see Jonas Lefevre jogging toward him.

“I’m glad you decided to stick around here awhile,” Jonas said.

“Me too.”

“I’ve been hoping to meet up with you before I drive to Paris. I’ll be leaving in about an hour. Have to meet some buyers. Do you know how hard you are to catch? I guess you’ve been too busy the last few days—and you’ve been holding out on me, from what I’ve heard. A new lady friend and you didn’t tell me? I’m dying to meet her.”

“Simone? You’ve met her.” Dave started walking again. Jonas sped up to keep pace with him.

“Don’t play dumb. You know I’m not talking about Simone. It’s the mysterious stranger. Everyone is talking about her—and about you. You’ve made it to the top of the gossip chain. Quite a feat.”

Dave shook his head. Just what he needed—to be the most
gossiped about. “Yeah, well, you shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”

“There is usually at least some truth in what the busybodies around here say. You and I both know that privacy isn’t really possible here in Reynier.”

“Yeah, you’re right about that.”

“So, tell me about her. I haven’t seen her yet, but I hear she’s pretty. Are you and she
. . . .”

“No. I’m helping her temporarily. She’s homeless.”

Jonas tilted his head and studied Dave’s face, then gave him a sly grin. “Aha. I guess that means you won’t mind introducing her to me.”

“Yeah, right. Lillian would skin you alive if you brought her home.”

“So it’s true she’s staying at Fabienne’s house?”

Dave nodded.

“I’ll tell you what. She can stay there, and I’ll help her out with whatever she needs. How’s that?”

“I don’t think so.”

Jonas laughed, then patted Dave on the shoulder. “That’s what I thought. The French blood courses through your veins after all.”

“
It really isn’t like that. I’m not in a ‘relationship’ with anyone—not with Simone or Maurelle, okay?”

Jonas smiled. “Okay, okay. I won’t mention it again. Let’s get together for beers when I return from Paris.”

“Sure. Call me when you get back.”

As Dave entered Fabienne’s house five minutes later, he was surprised by the silence that was pierced only by the ticking of the grandfather clock.
He walked into the kitchen and then back into the living room. He took the stairs two at a time and knocked softly on Maurelle’s door. When she didn’t respond, he opened it and peered around the corner. The room looked as if she’d never been there. He checked the wardrobe, hoping she might have unpacked her bag, but felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. The wardrobe was empty. He rushed downstairs and this time noticed his grandmother asleep on the sofa—she had been hidden by the high back.

He rubbed his face with his hands, then began pacing as he considered what to do.

“Oh, you’re home,” Fabienne said, sitting up and looking at him bleary-eyed.

“What happened?” Dave asked, running his hand through his hair. “What did you do? Where is she?”

Fabienne’s eyes widened and she gulped sleepily. “Upstairs resting.”

“No, she’s not there. And neither are her bags.” 

Fabienne shrugged, and lifted her arms, turning her hands palm upward.

“I know you didn’t want her here. Did you do something to chase her away? At least be honest with me about this.”

“I really don’t know anything. She must have slipped out after I fell asleep.” 

“You had no idea she’d left?”

“Of course not. Why would she leave?” She looked up at him, batting her eyes innocently. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen that look.

Shaking his head, Dave turned away and walked toward the front door. She’d let him down again
—and so had Maurelle, for that matter. He reached for the door handle and then hesitated as another thought came to him:
Unless there was a good reason for her running away again.
He looked back and asked, “When did she go upstairs?”

Fabienne shrugged. “During lunch. She got up from the table and said she was going upstairs to rest. Such ill manners, especially for a guest.”

“How long ago was that?”

She glanced at the clock. “I suppose it would have been an hour
, maybe a bit longer.”

“What did you do? Did you say something to upset her?”

She jutted her chin outward in her defiant way. Dave was losing his patience. “Tell me what happened, Grand-mère.”

“I really didn’t say anything. We were having a pleasant luncheon and then she got up and said she was tired. Jeannette and I really had no idea why.”

“Jeannette was here?”

She looked
away, then nodded her head.

“I’m guessing that the two of you intimidated her.”

“No, no,” Fabienne said, looking at him again. “We behaved perfectly.”

“Right,” Dave said. She was trying to give him a wide-eyed-innocent look, but her eyes were blinking rapidly.

“She doesn’t deserve your help. That girl is trouble. You mark my words. You’re better off not getting involved.”

“But I am.” He walked out of the house, slamming the door behind him. His mind raced. Where might Maurelle have gone? Unlikely she’d go back to the cave or even stay in the area.
Thinking about his drive back to Reynier from Vendome, he didn’t see a reason to search for her in that direction. He hadn’t seen her. And, anyway, if his instincts were right, she would likely avoid that busy road. She might have hiked along a country road or cut through the fields. With any luck, she was doing the former, which meant he needed to borrow Simone’s car again, something he really didn’t want to do for this. If he’d stopped back here before he’d returned the car, he wouldn’t have to bother Simone again. He’d rather borrow Jonas’ car, but since Jonas was on his way to Paris, that was out. As he walked, he remembered Maurelle saying earlier that she was going to Paris and then back to Le Mans. Since he knew she was lying, and wasn’t good at it, she was more likely planning to head in the opposite direction, south towards Tours or Blois, perhaps. On the other hand, he couldn’t rule out the possibility of her heading due north to St. Calais.

“Bonjour, Cheri. Back so soon?”
Simone said, eyeing him curiously as he entered the café.

Dave nodded, wondering how much he should tell her and how much she already knew. “Have you spoken to your grandmother this afternoon?”

Simone shrugged. “I know that you brought the girl to Fabienne’s, if that’s what you want to tell me. I’m not happy about that, but I do understand.”

“I’m sorry, Simone. I know that I’m asking a lot of you.”

She pouted for a moment and then offered him a forgiving smile. “You can’t help wanting to help strays, and you see this girl as a lost puppy. I understand that.”

He smiled and looked into Simone’s eyes, saying, “I don’t know all that went down during lunch
, but the girl left. Grand-mère
is so damn tightlipped about it.” He paused, running his fingers through his hair. “It’s probably hopeless, but if I could borrow your car again I might be able to find her.”

“Of course. On one condition.”

“And what’s that?”

“Since our trip is postponed, I want us
—just the two of us—to go to the theatre in Vendome. I’ll take care of the tickets.”

“That’s fine,” Dave said. “When did you have in mind?”

“I’m not sure exactly. I’ll have to check the show schedules, but it will probably be in a week or two. I’ll find out and let you know.”

When Dave nodded, Simone disappeared for a moment and returned with her keys.
“Take whatever time you need. I’ll be here,” she said.

A few minutes later, Dave again squeezed into Simone’s Deux Chevaux and headed up the steep hill towards the ancient church
ruins. At the top, he stopped on the roadside and pried himself out of the car. From this vantage point he could see the road stretching north for miles, all the way to the horizon. Except for the few village streets of the upper part of Reynier, directly behind the church, the landscape was mostly flat fields dotted with the occasional farmhouse. He scanned the view.

Turning ninety degrees, he looked down toward the river, hoping to see the whole river valley. But trees on the hillside and on the plain obscured much of the view. He decided that his best option would be to follow the southern route
as he’d first thought.

Before long, Dave reached the bridge and crossed over the river. Driving slowly along the lonely country lane,
he looked into green and gold fields on one side of the road and woods on the other side. After an hour, he was beginning to think it was hopeless. She could be anywhere. She could have hitched a ride or gone in a completely different direction. Coming to a junction in the road, he stopped, leaned forward, and tried to decide which way to go. Unfortunately, the choice was a crapshoot.

He turned to the left, onto a narrower road that headed into the woods. He drove another half hour without seeing anyone, not even another car.

Frustrated, Dave considered turning around and going back to Reynier. He could drive east toward Belvidere and Vendome. It was a long shot, but he was running out of options.

Still deep in thought, he rounded a sharp curve too fast. In that instance, something leapt in front of him. Startled, and not sure what it was, he instinctively swerved off the road and stopped in time to see a buck dash into the woods.

Shaking slightly, Dave gripped the steering wheel with both hands as he tried to calm himself. It was bad enough that he’d borrowed Simone’s car twice in one day; now he’d nearly wrecked it. He yanked open the door and stepped out. Walking around the outside of the car, he inspected the tires and the frame. All looked fine. He climbed back inside and pulled back onto the road.

Maurelle sat on
a large boulder by the roadside, her elbows on her knees and her chin resting in the palms of her hands. Although she had been marching through the countryside for only two hours, she already felt crushed by her baggage and the ever-present burden of her situation, which both physically and emotionally weighed heaviest of all.

She hadn’t intended staying too long in Reynier in any case, but hadn’t worked out how she would manage with all her baggage.
When she’d first left London, she’d carried only a small zippered bag containing cash, identification, and a few small items of clothing. Running had been much simpler. Then she’d bought the duffel bag and some clothing and shoes in Paris. Lugging all of that around had proven difficult but manageable. Over the last few weeks she’d added the sleeping bag, more clothing, snacks, and even several books.

Earlier today, immediately after her bath,
she had toyed with the idea of purchasing a bicycle or motor bike, which seemed a great idea, and probably would have been easy enough if Dave hadn’t found her. Now that she was stuck out in the woods, far from town, how was she supposed to make that work? She smacked her thigh in frustration and then straightened up, trying to think clearly. She could drag herself and her baggage back to Belvidere, the nearest place that might have a bike shop. But what if it didn’t? And what if she ran into Dave Martin? She looked up at the clear sky and took a deep breath. Logically, leaving her belongings behind and running from here as fast as she could was her real best chance, but somehow she needed them, needed the reassurance of owning something, of having possessions and responsibilities. That brought her back to another option, one that she had touched on from time to time, but hadn’t allowed herself to really consider until now, the option of going back to England and facing her problem head-on, of finding a way out of it there. She didn’t want to live like this. The thought of returning, though, paralyzed her, and sweat beaded on her forehead. Until she could formulate a plan and know that it was her best option, she would have to keep moving further away from England.

It’ll all work out
,
she told herself. God, she wished she could believe that. But this wasn’t the first time she’d tried to convince herself of that, and she wasn’t as naïve now as she had been a few weeks ago.

The sound of an automobile approaching made her tense
. She looked away as though uninterested.

The car’s tires crunched in the gravel on the side of the road
as it came to a stop. The driver shut off the engine and opened the door. She turned casually to look.

It was Dave Martin. Relief and fear fought in her mind. She couldn’t go back with him—but she was tired of running. And she really missed having someone to talk to. Maybe she could take a day to relax before she headed to Italy. Yes, that would give her time to make better plans and maybe even buy a bike.

She forced herself to stay still. He stood directly in front of her now, looking down at her with a grin on his face.

“I nearly hit a deer back there,” he said, motioning down the road.

She stared at him momentarily, taken by surprise at his first words, then asked, “Are you all right?”  

He nodded. “It scared the crap out of me
though. Luckily, I swerved in time.” He rubbed his hair. “I have to admit it really shook me up, but I feel better now that I’ve found you. I was afraid you might be nestled deeply in the woods by now, and that I might not see you again.”

Shading her eyes from the bright sunlight, she looked up at his face. H
e smiled and she felt suddenly happy. She gave a weak smile back and then averted her eyes as she stretched out her legs.

“I don’t know what my grandmother or Jeannette did, but I hope you’ll forgive them.”

She looked at him and shrugged.

“They can be challenging, to say the least.” He chuckled, and added, “Anyway, why don’t we go back to the house? I won’t leave again. I swear.” He paused, watching her
intently.

“I don’t need your help. I’m fine on my own. You should go back home.”

She didn’t want to spend the night like an animal in the woods and she didn’t think she had the energy to make it all the way to the city. But getting involved with this stranger, with anyone, was too risky. She would manage on her own.

She stood up
and reached for her backpack and sleeping bag to leave, but Dave quickly grabbed them up to put into the car. She rushed after him, intending to . . . to what? Kicking up a fuss could be dangerous, and he’d already proven his strength. She stopped and touched her throat. Her pulse throbbed erratically beneath her fingertips as she watched him stride over to the car, open the boot, and plop the bags down. At the slamming of the lid with a loud clunk, she jumped. He walked round and held the passenger door open for her.

She backed up. “No, I c
an’t. Please give me my bags. I—”

He ignored her, strode around to the driver’s side, climbed into the car, and started up the engine, drowning out her words.

She could run, but he was faster. Even the few seconds’ advantage she’d have by already being outside wouldn’t help. Besides, as much as she hated to admit it, she did long for human contact, if only for a few hours. She clenched her jaw and got in.

Dave said, “You’ll be safe and fed, but you have to promise me that you won’t run off during the night.”

Unable to bring herself to say the words, to speak a promise she wasn’t sure she would keep, she simply nodded.

Back at Fabienne’s, Dave stopped in the street,
near the front door. He got out of the car, removed Maurelle’s bags from the boot, and led her into the house that she hadn’t expected to ever see again.

“You can go settle in while I drop the car off. I will only be five minutes. Don’t go away. Promise?”

She nodded, but alarm pulsed through her when he started back out the door.

Dave,
apparently noticing her fear, said, “Damn. I promised you I wouldn’t leave, didn’t I? Sorry. I have to return the car. It’s borrowed. I’ll be right back, okay?”

Maurelle
nodded. After he left, she took a deep breath, and turned back toward the living room. No one was in sight. She tiptoed around to see if either of the women were still in the kitchen; they weren’t around. She went back to the foyer, picked up her bags, and walked over to the staircase.

Fabienne and Jeannette had told her that Dave and his girlfriend were leaving on a trip in the morning. She could go to bed early and get rested and then she could do an early morning
escape before anyone else awoke. That would give Dave no time to hunt for her before he left.

As she reached the top of the stairs, t
he front door opened and startled her, making her jump. She turned around and found Dave grinning broadly.

“You’re still here,” he said. “I was half-expecting you to have slipped out through the window. I thought we were going to have to carry on playing a game of cat and mouse.”

Maurelle laughed. “I don’t have the energy to play anything.”

“I can believe that. Grand-mère is going to eat dinner at her friend Jeannette’s house
, so I thought you and I could go to the bistro for dinner.”

The crowded bistro in Paris
—and the man reading the newspaper with her picture in it—flashed across her mind, and her first impulse was to decline Dave’s offer. But it was true; she didn’t have the energy, and a sense of ‘what the hell?’ overcame her initial fear. That left only the ever important question of what she should wear.

As if reading her mind, Dave said, “Do you have something dressy to wear?” Looking apologetic, he added, “The bistro is fairly casual, but
. . . .”

Maurelle wiped her hand self-consciously over her rumpled shirt. “I have two skirts and a few blouses
, but they have been stored away in my bag. They may be wrinkled.”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine. We have some time before dinner
. If you want to take a nap or a shower, go ahead. Let me know if you need anything. I figure we’ll leave in about forty-five minutes, if that’s alright.”

She glanced up at the grandfather clock. At the stroke of the hour, she needed to be ready.
Dave took her duffel bag from her and carried it upstairs. She followed him. In her cozy bedroom, she sat down on the chair in the corner, removed her shoes, and rubbed her aching feet for a few minutes before opening her bag. Fortunately, her clothes weren’t quite as appalling as she’d feared. With a bit of smoothing, her pale-green blouse with its scoop neck and her flowing light green skirt with blue flowers and russet leaves would do fine. However, her face, she decided as she stared in the mirror above the dresser, needed work. A good scrubbing and a dab of makeup. And, God, her hair needed some serious taming. A shower, with warm water dripping over her body would be wonderful. But then she thought about trying to dry her hair.

She walked downstairs to the bathroom, washed and dried her face, and applied enough make-up to take away the shadows. When she finished, she returned to her room and sat
down on the edge of the soft bed, stretching her legs out in front of her. With her hairbrush in hand, she worked on untangling her hair—a time-consuming task. Once that was done, she brushed her hair until it felt silky beneath her hand. Not so bad now. A sense of déjà vu washed over her; this was normality, getting ready to go for a meal with a good looking man. But it had not been her normality for quite some time now.

The grandfather clock chimed
. Maurelle glanced at her dirty gym shoes, then frantically searched through her duffel bag for something better. She pulled out the high heels and the sandals she’d bought in Paris. She had almost forgotten about them. She selected the high heels. With one last check in the mirror, she headed down the stairs, feeling self-conscious, like a teenager on a first date.

When Dave saw her, the look of surprise on his face made her smile.

“You scrub up pretty well,” Dave whispered approvingly as he intertwined his arm with hers.

“There was a fair bit of scrubbing
involved.”

Walking along the
darkening streets, Maurelle stole glances at Dave, noticing how handsome he looked in his slate-gray suit, accented by a burgundy dress-shirt and a dark gray tie. He caught her looking at him once, and she turned away quickly, embarrassed.

Along the way, a group of boys, two on each side of the street, passed a soccer ball back and forth as they ran down the hill
. Maurelle smiled at their simple pleasure. Dave apparently was watching them, as well.

“They remind me of my childhood summers visiting my grandmother. My friend, Jonas, and I, and sometimes Paul and Alain, would ride our bicycles down these steep, winding lanes, imagining ourselves as riders in the Tour de France or race car drivers in the Grand Prix. Back then, I loved that Reynier was remote and untouched. I thought I had a place I could always escape to, a place where my problems couldn’t reach me.”

“You don’t feel that way now?”  

Dave shrugged. “Reynier is still less ‘touched’ by all the problems of the world, but I’m not sure that one can escape the problems altogether.”

As they strolled along, he waved to so many passersby that Maurelle felt as if they were in a parade, which was an odd feeling, considering she’d spent her entire life in London, where people passed each other in large herds without ever really seeing faces or acknowledging each other. She shuddered involuntarily as her fear of being recognized resurfaced. In her effort to take her mind off that, another thought thrust its way into her mind. Without intending to, she asked out loud, “Will she be there?”

Dave stopped abruptly and looked at her. “Will who be where?”

“I wondered if your girlfriend will be joining us.”

Dave looked taken aback, but then seemed to pull himself together.

“So that’s what Grand-mère and Jeannette talked about,” he said, so quietly that Maurelle could barely hear.

“If you would rather have a romantic dinner with her, I can eat elsewhere. I know that you and she are leaving in the morning on a vacation together. I don’t want to interfere with your plans.”

“I’ve put that trip on hold. By the way, I’m already on vacation. This—my being here in France—is an open-ended vacation.”

She didn’t know how to respond.

“And no, Simone will not be joining us for dinner,” he said in a clipped voice that contradicted his smile.

He motioned then for her to continue walking, but as she studied his face, noticing creases on his forehead and tenseness of his jaw, she sensed that something had changed between them. Her chance of actually enjoying this night out crumbled to dust.