I walked along the river, hoping the flow of water and gentle rocking of the boats would calm my pounding heart and erase the images of Monsieur Simon with his arm around me, kissing my neck. Down the road, a boisterous crowd of French colons filled the tables on the stone terrace of Pierre’s Bar & Café.
“Mademoiselle,” a voice called out. I glanced over as Lieutenant Toussaint rose from a table where he was sitting with two other officers and waved to me. “Wait.” I braced myself as he ran across the road, wearing the hungry grin of a tiger ready to pounce on its prey. “Join me for a drink.”
I stood with my mouth open, not able to bear another intrusion by some boorish, senseless man. “No. Mademoiselle Courbet is expecting me,” I said, my voice sharp and angry.
“Oh come, she won’t mind if you stop for a drink.” His insistent words enraged me. He grabbed my wrist and started dragging me toward the bar.
In the middle of the street, I pulled back with all my force. “Let go! I said no.” I was nearly hysterical, feeling trapped and helpless.
His grip only tightened. “Don’t be like this. People are watching.”
“Toussaint, what the devil do you think you’re doing?” Marcel Fontaine appeared out of nowhere. He pulled the lieutenant’s hand from my arm. “She said no. Leave her alone.”
Toussaint’s face puckered into a violent storm as he glanced from Monsieur Fontaine to me and back again. Several bicycles heading down the road had to swerve around us. “Fine,” he said at last and marched off.
My savior guided me back to the riverside path. “What an ass. I’m sorry he bothered you.”
“Thank you. I didn’t know how to get away.”
“Catherine told me he’s been after you, and he doesn’t give up easily.” He turned briefly as a man at the bar across the way stood up, waving his drink in the air and calling to him. “Should I accompany you to Catherine’s?” he asked.
“No, I’m fine. Go back to your friend.” I nodded a goodbye and hurried away, turning down the next lane before breaking into a run. Monsieur Fontaine’s concern and kindness had surprised me, and once more I wondered about the nature of his relationship with Catherine.
When I finally reached the safety of home, I collapsed on the chair next to the entry hall table. The day had leeched every ounce of energy from my body and crushed my spirit. I felt like a beetle someone had stepped on and mashed into the ground.
Mali came to greet me. “Mademoiselle Catherine should be back—” She stopped midsentence. “What’s happened?”
“Oh, Mali, it was terrible…these men…” I dissolved into sobs.
Mali put her arms around my shoulders and patted my back, murmuring, “There, there.” I thought this must be what it is like to have a mother who loves and consoles you. “Poor dear. Go take a cool bath, and I’ll fix you a treat. Come back with your dress and underthings so I can wash them. Then we can talk if you feel like it.”
A half-hour later I drifted back downstairs, my mood improved after a lukewarm bath laced with frangipani oil. I was determined to push all thoughts of Monsieur Simon and Lieutenant Toussaint from my consciousness. A glass of lemonade and a piece of coconut cake waited on the kitchen table for me, like a big comforting embrace. I took a bite of cake, imagining it must be the taste of manna from heaven.
“It’s so wonderful. Will you teach me how to make it? I’ve never cooked anything and need to learn before Bridgette and I live on our own.”
Mali smiled. “I’ll show you, but perhaps you should start with some basics, like baking a chicken and steaming vegetables.”
“You’re right. Bridgette and I would eat only sweets if we could.”
We sat for a moment in silence, then she asked, “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
In halting spurts, I recounted my terrifying experience with Monsieur Simon. “I was so shocked and frightened. How could he try to take advantage of me like that?” I gulped some lemonade, as tears dribbled down my face. “Then, coming home, I ran into Lieutenant Toussaint.” I described his alarming attempt to force me to join him and how Monsieur Fontaine had come to my rescue.
She clucked her tongue several times. “These men will face their evil ways one day, if not now, then in the next life. Don’t let them take away your happiness; focus on the good in your life.”
I stared down at my empty plate. “I’ll try.”
She patted my arm. “Take some quiet time to reflect and find your inner peace once more. If you want to come to my temple with me, it is a very good place for this. Maybe tomorrow.”
We heard the front door, and Catherine strode into the kitchen. “Vivi, have you been crying?”
My unhappy story poured out once more as I chastised myself for being so naïve. “I was stupid to trust Monsieur Simon, but I never imagined his intentions.”
Catherine sank onto the chair across from me. “You did nothing wrong, but it’s yet another example of why you must be careful. Men are incorrigible!” She shook her head. “That despicable, ridiculous man with his silly bow ties and pretentious airs, thinking he is charming and irresistible. Marguerite and I will think of a way to deal with Monsieur Simon.”
“Can you tell Maîtresse, since she sometimes takes the girls there?”
“Of course. She must be informed.”
“No one I visited would even consider hiring me.” I winced slightly. “I’m embarrassed to say, I got rather angry with Madame Trembley for the way she spoke to me.” I let out a long sigh. “And then I ran into Lieutenant Toussant.”
Catherine listened with growing concern, tossing her head and swearing under her breath. “Thank heavens Marcel was there. You’ve had a terrible day, my dear. Stay home tomorrow and rest,” Catherine said. “I’ll be free in the afternoon, and we can do something together.” She pulled two letters from her handbag. “These should cheer you up.”
Once in my room, I plopped on my bed and tore open the first envelope with my name scrawled in Bridgette’s slightly messy handwriting.
Chère Vivi,
Mademoiselle Courbet (how strange that you call her Catherine now) brought your letter yesterday. I missed you at Sunday Mass but can understand how you lost track of time—how exciting to be free to wander about town on your own!
I can’t begin to tell you how much I miss you. It feels like years since you left, instead of three days. Saturday night I hardly slept without the sound of your soft breathing across the room. Strange shadows floated on the walls and ceiling, until I had to hide under the covers.
Maîtresse lets Lucienne and Madeleine spend evenings with me (once the devil goes home), and last night Lucienne shared one of the chocolates she received for her birthday. Heavenly! On Sunday, Cook made passion fruit tarts and sent a secret package to me via Madeleine. So, I’m not suffering.
Something surprising—it turns out Lucienne knows where Sylvie moved two years ago, as they wrote to each other once or twice. I hadn’t realized they were friends. She lives at the Lambert Boarding House on Rue Augustine. Hopefully she is still there.
I’ve been sketching some of the flowers growing in the back garden, at least the ones I can see out the window. They’re not particularly good, but I enjoy it immensely. Maybe I can get a job drawing. Are there jobs like that?
Nothing more to report, as I don’t go anywhere or do anything.
Fingers crossed that you receive answers to your letters right away. And please, please come to Mass on Sunday!
Hugs and kisses,
Bridgette
Innocent Bridgette, how much she had to learn about the outside world—the kinds of pitfalls and dangers that had confronted me in the space of only a few days. But I would not tell her of my difficulties and disillusion her before she even had a chance to enjoy a new life free of the orphanage. Let her remain hopeful in anticipating the future. She would learn the truth soon enough.
I hurriedly opened the second envelope, wondering who else could be writing me from the orphanage.
Chère Geneviève,
Enclosed you will find fifty piastres, an amount the Assistance Society provides to each girl turning eighteen and leaving the orphanage, a gift to help you transition to your new life. I regret to say Director Bernard tried to keep me from giving you the money, but upon reflection, I do not believe it is his decision to make. Withholding the money would be stealing and goes against all my principles and those of the Assistance Society to aid you girls in building a happy future.
I hope you will do well and succeed at whatever you attempt.
My best wishes,
Maîtresse Durand
Relief washed over me at being granted this reprieve. I didn’t have to panic about finding a job—at least not yet. Maîtresse had proved herself a worthy person, acting in my best interest, and for that I was eternally grateful. The first thing I did was pay Catherine the rent, which she accepted reluctantly, saying I should wait until I found employment. But I was an adult on my own now. I must meet my responsibilities.