Sins of Omission (30 page)

“The child has no name, and he must be christened,” Yvette said.

Mickey sighed. “You and Henri are to be the proud godparents. And you must give a suitable gift. Your love will do nicely.” Mickey smiled. “I contacted the curé, and it is to be done this Sunday. Bebe will never believe I would take her child. If someday she comes looking for him, she will come to you first. You will alert me and I will go to Bordeaux…anyplace, so she doesn't find him. You must swear to me, both of you, that you will never tell her where the child is.” Henri and Yvette nodded solemnly, crossing themselves to seal the promise.

Henri went to bed, and the two old friends talked far into the night.

“You have not given Reuben enough time…. Time, Mickey, makes things better. Do not do anything foolish.”

“It's not me, Yvette. Reuben is the one who has decided to leave. I can read it on his face. He's different. Since his accident he cannot…No, it is me,” Mickey cried brokenly.

“No,
chérie,
it is not you. He is young, he thinks he failed you. Now he has to go out and prove himself. He must leave. I see the way he is thinking. He does not want to be a burden to you. Did he not do his best to learn the wine business before the accident? That was for you, Michelene, no one else. He loved you and wanted to earn his keep. He still loves you. This one will always love you. I see it written all over him. Why can't you forgive him his indiscretion?”

“I'm so frightened. What will I do when he's gone? I love him so much, my heart is sore. I feel like I want to die, and I haven't even heard him say the words yet. He is so proud. God is punishing me for my past. I can forgive him his indiscretion, but he cannot forgive himself. I see it in his eyes.”

“That is not true. Do you see me being punished? No! And we were cut from the same bolt! No,
chérie.
God does not punish. He forgives. I do not say it will be easy. You are strong, my friend. We are French through and through. Remember that.”

“In my empty bed at night and when I dine alone? I find little comfort in what you say, Yvette. I knew this would happen. I warned myself, but I ignored my own warnings.”

“Because you were in love,
chérie.
We do strange things when we are in love. Who knows better than I? You will survive. I will see to it.”

The baby stirred behind them. They watched as his little feet kicked for a moment and then became still.

“We must come up with a suitable name for this child.”

“The name must be French,” Mickey said, “if I am to raise him.”

“No,” Yvette said firmly. “We must pick a name that can be taken as French or American. His parents are American. Promise me that you will never forget that fact. I say we call him Philip. That is very American sounding. For his birth certificate and his identity papers. A double set. A French set of papers with the name Philippe. How does that sound to your ears?”

Mickey rolled the name off her tongue several times. “I think this is one of your better ideas, Yvette. Philippe it is. I must go now. They wonder at the château why I come here so much. God only knows what Reuben and Daniel think. I am a very poor liar, old friend.”

“You will learn,” Yvette said philosophically.

Mickey kissed the baby's soft cheek, tears welling in her eyes. “I promise you a wonderful life, little one,” she said huskily.

Yvette watched her friend until she was out of sight, her eyes filled with concern. Why couldn't Mickey have happiness? She did so much good, had such a gentle, giving heart. “Be kind to her,” she whispered silently, her eyes raised upward. “Please, be kind.”

 

Reuben was dressed in a suit with a shirt and a tie when Mickey entered the morning room for breakfast. Not today, she pleaded silently, it can't be today. She wasn't ready to say good-bye. He'd said he wanted to talk, not say good-bye. He looked so formal, so cool, aloof. Dear God, what was he going to say? Please, let me be able to survive it, she prayed.

At the table, Reuben's movements were stiff and awkward as he reached across to grasp Mickey's hands in his own. How tired she looked, he thought. He felt personally responsible for her drained, exhausted look. Now he was going to deliver a shattering, devastating blow.

His eyes were sad, full of regret at his own betrayal. But he couldn't stay here and live a lie; he loved Mickey too much to do that to her.

“I've been wanting to talk to you, but I sensed you were avoiding me. I…didn't ask why because the last time I demanded answers from you a disaster occurred. We're leaving today, Daniel and I.” He held on to her hands, feeling and seeing her pain-filled reaction to his words. “I didn't think today would…would creep up so fast. Perhaps it is better this way, it will be over quickly. If you had allowed me…if you had taken the time to talk to me, it would have just caused both of us more anguish. A man from the village is coming with a car to take us to the depot. I want to say good-bye here, here in this place where…where we lived so happily together. I want…I need…to say…”

“Reuben, please, you don't have to…to explain…anything to me.” She could barely speak. The pain she was feeling weighed her down until she felt she was suffocating.

Reuben hated the look in her eyes, like a beautiful wild creature caught in a trap. He hated having to cause her this much pain. The one thing he'd never wanted to do was hurt this woman he loved. How had this happened to them? The truth struck him intensely every time he was forced to remember.

Mickey held herself in check. Now was not the time to give in to her grief. For some time she'd known this day was coming, and she'd halfway prepared for it. But nothing had prepared her for the look of shame and guilt in Reuben's face. If nothing else, she would make this right for him, even if she had to say the words for him so he could move on and not prolong this agony. She bit her lip to stem the flow of her tears, and tasted her own blood. “I understand, Reuben. It is time for you to get on with your life.”

Mickey's brave front tore at his heart. God, he wanted to reach out, to gather her close. Part of him wanted to confess his betrayal, to beg forgiveness, to promise her anything; but that would destroy her. How could he destroy what he loved most, just so he could walk away, forgiven? What he was doing was best…for Mickey. It didn't matter about him.

There was so much he wanted to say, to let her know…. He needed something to take away with him…. He knew he'd come back, after he'd made things right. Should he say it, or was it better left unsaid? Mickey's tears were unexpected, he didn't know how to react to them, silent tears of…grief, as though he were dead. In a way, he was. “Please, Mickey, don't cry,” he pleaded.

“I don't mean to. I'm sorry. I don't want you to see me this way. I don't want you to go away carrying my tears with you. Oh, Reuben, you don't have to go. Things will…I'm sure it's just temporary…. These things happen. It doesn't matter!” she cried.

“I'm…so sorry,” he cried brokenly. “I swear to you I'll come back, perhaps not right away, but I will come back.” At these words Mickey turned away. It was as if he had struck her. “Look at me, Mickey, and tell me you believe me. I promise. I've never made a promise to you I didn't keep.”

When her eyes met his they were steady. “Reuben, please, I don't want you to make promises. We will say au revoir, and if we are meant to see each other again, we will. It is that simple,
chéri.
” Those words sealed her defeat, the weight of it made her lower her head. She couldn't find the strength to look at him.

“I don't know how I can leave you,” Reuben said, his voice wavering. “You mean so much to me. You are my life! But I…” He almost confessed then, in that one brief second. But he didn't. If she hadn't lifted her head at that precise moment, he knew he would have. It was more than he could bear, having to read his own betrayal in her eyes. She thought—and he was allowing her to believe it—that he was leaving because he was impotent. How cruel he was being, how selfish! Was his sin then only one of omission? Someday Mickey would understand.

Mickey swallowed hard. “You haven't said where you are going, what you will do, and how you will live. Do you have money?” she asked in a practical tone.

“We'll get by. We'll work. Neither Daniel nor I want to go back to New York, so we decided to go to California and take our chances in the movie industry. That's where things are happening right now.”

“Hollywood!” gasped Mickey. Yes, of course. Hollywood. Bebe. Dear God. “Reuben,” she said tearfully, “you must wait here for one minute…I will be right back. Promise me that you won't leave until I return.” Reuben nodded, a puzzled look on his face.

Mickey raced up the stairs, dabbing at eyes that were blinded with tears. Where was it? Where had she put it? Clothing flew in every direction as she searched for the packet of American dollars she'd secured early in the spring, anticipating this very moment. It was important—no,
crucial
—to know in her heart that Reuben and Daniel would be all right. After all, it was only money. She rifled through the crisp bills. Two thousand; it would give them a good year until they established themselves. Poor things, they were going to be like sheep to the slaughter.

Taking her stationery from the top drawer of the little cherrywood desk, she quickly scribbled a letter of introduction to Sol Rosen for both Reuben and Daniel. A second short note requested that he give them both jobs in return for the favor she'd done him in taking Bebe.

Reuben flushed scarlet when she returned with her offerings, but he accepted both money and letters. “I'll pay you back, every cent. I won't use the letters unless…unless things become difficult.” This was his chance, the perfect time to ask about Bebe. My God, an actual letter to Sol Rosen at Fairmont Studios. He could almost taste his revenge. “I'm sorry I won't be here to see Bebe when she returns. Say good-bye to her for me and Daniel. Daniel said he left a letter for her on his bureau.”

“Bebe…won't be coming back to the château. She decided to stay in England. I'll tell her when I hear from her. It's very possible you will see her before I do, if she decides to return home.”

Reuben searched her eyes for any sign of knowledge. There was none. So he was off the hook after all. He would have to carry his guilt with him until he had found Bebe and evened the score. Why had he thought it was going to be easy? Someday, somewhere, he was going to remember exactly what had happened to him that night to make him go so crazy. Someday.

“I hear the car, Reuben,” Mickey said, her voice shaky. “Where is Daniel?”

“He's outside, waiting. Please, Mickey, no tears. If Daniel sees you cry…I don't know what he'll do.”

Mickey stepped into his arms for the last time. How warm he felt, how very alive! She could hear his heart, actually felt it beating. Too rapidly, too hard…or was that her own? Tenderly, with exquisite finality, his hand stroked her hair, her neck, the small of her back. Determined not to weaken at the last moment, she bit down on her lip and forced the tears to remain in check. “Au revoir,
chéri.
”

From somewhere deep inside him, the Hebraic farewell rose to his lips. “Shalom, my love.”

Mickey watched him walk away from her, to the car. Her heart shattered into countless pieces. Somehow, she'd hoped, at the last minute, that he would change his mind.

Daniel rushed up to her; tears streaming down his cheeks, he took her in his arms and turned her so her back was to Reuben. “How, tell me how to say good-bye? How can I thank you? I don't have the words.”

Mickey swallowed past the lump in her throat. “You say it,
chéri.
Not good-bye, that is too final. Au revoir. We will meet again. I know we will. Promise me two things, Daniel,” she implored, looking deeply into his eyes.

“Anything. For you, Mickey, anything.”
She knows.

“Promise me you will take care of Reuben for me. I am entrusting him into your care.”
He knows I know. Dear, wonderful Daniel.
Their eyes locked in silent understanding.

“I'll do my best, and if my best isn't good enough, I'll try harder. And the second promise?”

“That you will think of me from time to time.”

Daniel could only nod. When he had himself under control he said, “You will take care of Jake for me?” Mickey nodded bleakly. “Au revoir, Mickey.”

The men climbed into the car that would take them away. It was the end of the world, Mickey thought, the end of her world. All she had to do now was put one foot in front of the other and go back into the château. How could she do it? How could she walk away from the one man she had ever loved, her one true happiness?
You must do it because you have no other choice,
an inner voice directed her. But she felt bruised, beaten, and too weary to move. Part of her wanted to scratch and claw, to demand he come back and stop this nonsense. The other part demanded dignity and a noble spirit. One step, two, three, four. She wouldn't turn around, she just would not. Five, six. Like lightning she swiveled. The inner voice whispered,
You turned on purpose because you remember telling Reuben true love is when the lover looks back and smiles. You want to see what he does….
Turn, Reuben, look for me, she pleaded silently. How would she be able to tell if he did or didn't, with tears blinding her? She'd feel it, sense it. But he wasn't going to look back. He would drive away from her, out of her life, and she'd never see him again. “Good-bye, my love,” she murmured.

There was lead in his shoes and a thousand pounds on his shoulders. There was something wrong with his eyes, he could feel a painful stinging, something he'd never felt in the hospital or during his recovery. His chest was achingly heavy. He felt ill. Insane. He was insane to walk away from this place and the woman he'd grown to love more than life itself. Things would get better, she'd said; he didn't have to go. But she didn't know…she thought…This time he was really leaving her, going back to America. The lump in his throat was strangling him now. Look back, he told himself; don't leave like this! Even though they'd said their good-byes, he needed one last look at what he was giving up because of…At last he turned, straining his eyes. She was there, but was she facing him or walking away? His eyes ached with the strain. If it's true love, you look back. Mickey had said that. Well, he was looking back. But he couldn't see. Angrily he swiped at his watery eyes. He waved and whispered, “I'll always love you.” It didn't matter whether she heard him or not; he needed to hear the words. It was a pity he couldn't see Mickey's smile, the smile that rivaled the sun for brightness.