Never Turn Back (30 page)

Meri got up from the bench and walked home. The streets of Paris and the sickly, starving, amazingly animated people she passed both disgusted her and gave her hope.
This is not the Paris of my childhood dreams; it’s dirty and smells of rotting things. I’m working as a domestic, not in a fashion house. The chance of any part of my dream coming true now is doubtful with Michel acting so odd towards me.
A gust of wind blew and the air became translucent with the dust and particles that were once part of pristine Parisian buildings. Meri coughed. She rubbed her eyes and then watched the debris swirl, settling onto any surface it found.
My dream is just like the dust all around me—shattered, scattered, unrecognizable, and at the whim of the prevailing winds. I’m thirty-nine years old. Is this what victory looks and smells like?

§

“I am not sure I can do anything for you.”

Meri could tell Michel had difficulty telling her this; he did not look at her and he shuffled the papers on his office desk.

“This is a difficult thing for me to ask of you, Monsieur. Please consider my request.” Meri had been thinking about her future since the Saturday at the convent when Jeannine went the movies without her. She had visited with her daughter several times since then, and everything was normal, but that day shook Meri.

Meri had been weighing her options for about three months. New and more settled routines had established themselves at the Dorval residence. Paris inched along in its recovery from the war under General Charles de Gaulle’s leadership, which emphasized looking forward, not back. French citizens who sympathized with the Germans considered this policy a pardon. Unless directly involved in egregious war crimes, de Gaulle’s philosophy to forgive and unify France elated many French citizens. The Dorval household, once again, reflected the mood of the country—Madame and Monsieur were unified and moving forward, accepting Ilsa and Karla as French guests who simply had heavy German accents.

Meri continued. “The household gets along perfectly well without me. Karla certainly doesn’t need me to look after her. In fact, she resents having a nanny. She’s a young woman now. Trust me, Jeannine feels the same way. Girls of eleven think they’re able to make their own decisions.” She pursed her lips and looked to the ceiling, remembering feeling the same way so long ago.

“Your duties are mainly in the kitchen. Philippe is not getting any younger, and we rely on you for serving and cleaning up after meals.” Monsieur’s face remained neutral but his voice quickened.

“Philippe’s age makes him more determined to prove he can run his kitchen as he wishes. I don’t think he will slow down for many years. As for serving and cleaning, Monsieur, please forgive me, but anyone could do those tasks. My only special skills were handling dear old Soldat and my willingness to give up my girl to take care of your sister-in-law’s children. Those skills are no longer necessary.”
My words are bold, especially since Michel has been so cool with me. What do I care?
She wanted a job in Michel’s fashion house or she would find work elsewhere.
My mind is made up.
There’s no turning back.

Monsieur’s eyes widened. “What has gotten into you, Meri? Have you forgotten all the times I came to your aide over these many years?”

“Absolutely not! Indeed, quite the opposite. I come to you with the same hope in your generosity—here in your office, not in your study at your home. You said you still remember the first time I came through these doors. I’ve worked for you mending German uniforms, sewing garments, and running errands. Never have I failed you, have I? I’m the same person I’ve always been. You know my skills as a seamstress and my dream to work in a fashion house—your fashion house.” She stopped and looked down. When she continued to speak, she spoke into her lap, not at Michel. “I’ll take any job you have to offer, as long as I’m using my skills as a seamstress. Mending? Ordering fabrics and other items? Taking measurements of customers? I simply don’t want to be a domestic worker for your wife and her sister, living under their rules. Jeannine is eleven years old and has never known what it feels like to live with her own mother. I can’t wait to fulfill a promise I keep making and breaking since she was a little girl. She needs to live with her Mamma.” Meri tilted her head up at him when she spoke the last sentence.

He averted his eyes from the woman he had known, helped, and shown such affection for all these years. His gazed was fixed on an oil painting hanging on his wall—a finely dressed woman with a parasol strolling along an avenue in Paris. The blue sky, verdant trees, and rainbow of flowers reminded Meri of a Paris she first met two decades ago.
Or is this just a vision of Paris I conjured in my mind?

“Monsieur?” Meri wondered if he heard anything she had said.

“I understand. I am afraid, however,
you
do not understand.” He continued staring at the painting.

“I suppose I don’t.” Meri furrowed her eye brows and began twisting her hem.
Thrump, thrump, thrump
…She could hear her heartbeat growing louder in her chest and her ears.

He sighed then put his face in his hands.

“You’re worrying me. Please tell me what you need to say. Knowing is better than not knowing.”

Finally he looked at her. The gentle, kindness in his eyes returned. Along with his softened demeanor came sadness so profound her heart ached without him even speaking. Her eyes misted over.
This is bad…very bad.

“I never wanted to share this with you, my dear Meri. I am afraid after I tell you, nothing between us will ever be the same.”

“Michel, you’re exaggerating. And you’re scaring me. Has Madame found out about when we…you know…when we…kissed?” Meri’s heart beat faster simply thinking of the kiss. Saying it aloud flushed her with the heat of embarrassment and something tinged with pleasure from her belly to her cheeks.

“I am not exaggerating.”

§

Meri walked out of Michel Dorval’s fashion house without a job.
I’ll be fine. I didn’t expect him to offer me a job anyway. Dreams don’t come true in my life. Mamma, you saw to that!
She marched to the Dorval residence and resigned. Madame told her to pack her bags immediately and leave. Meri counted on at least a week’s notice and pay to find another job, but Greta’s spiteful termination did not surprise her. Michel had warned her and even gave her some money for at least a month’s rent in a modest apartment. Since the war ended, many rooms and apartments had “For Rent” signs in their windows.

The story Michel told did not shock Meri as much as he thought it would.
I’m savvier than he thinks. So is Greta, who suspected her husband and I had a special, private relationship. She just never guessed the innocence of it.
Michel had told Meri, “Greta had enough when I came to your defense during the missing attaché incident. Karla told her parents and aunt you stole the satchel, woke up her to open it together (under much protest by poor Karla), and then brought it to Karla’s room to lay the blame on her. Greta, Ernst, and Ilsa were ready to have you arrested.”

Meri’s eyes had narrowed and darkened. She opened her mouth to speak when Michel continued. “I stopped them. Greta only agreed to let you ‘get away with your crime’ if I swore on my dead child’s grave I would never again show any favoritism toward
that Finnish traitor
again. Greta vowed to watch both of us carefully. If she suspected anything, even the most minor kindness, you would be arrested for crimes against the Third Reich. I would never see you again.” He had held out his empty hands—a gesture of offering.

“But what about that time in your fashion house office when we…” Meri felt too embarrassed about the kiss to speak of it aloud. “You remember, don’t you? That was well after your bargain with Madame.”

“Greta had no spies in my office at work, Meri.” Michel spoke to the floor. “And I was wrong to…to use my position as your employer and friend to take advantage of you.”

“
Employer and friend?
Michel, I thought we had a stronger bond than that. Was I wrong?” Meri’s darkening grey eyes were fixed directly on his face.

He looked up to meet her searching gaze. “You were not wrong. I care for you…deeply. I love you, Meri, but Greta will see us both burn in hell rather than be made a fool of. You know her and what she did to Soldat. She told me she would kill you if I hired you here or…or left her to be with you.”

“Michel! Do you believe your wife would actually
kill me
?”

He nodded. “I think she could shoot me, as well. There is evil in that woman I never saw until this war with Hitler.”

“You made a bargain with the, pardon my saying, the Devil to distance yourself from me, because you care for me?” Meri let out a bitter laugh.

He nodded once. “What else could I do? I heard too many stories of what happened to people taken prisoner by the Nazis. The lucky ones died quickly. And after the war ended, I remained afraid for your life knowing the lengths Greta will go to eliminate nuisances in her life.”

Meri shook her head in disbelief.
Only I could end up working for a maniacal German witch married to a kind man in the fashion industry who loves me enough to push me away from him. I’m so close to my dream and, poof, it’s gone.
Then Meri sighed. “You didn’t believe Karla’s fairy tale about me, did you?”

“Well…I…”

“You did! No matter how much you supposedly love me, I’m still the one who gets in trouble and needs help getting out of it. I think you liked saving me. At least you had power over someone in your life.” Meri’s face had flushed bright red with anger and pain as she stood abruptly to leave.
It’s easier to be angry with him than it is to admit how much he hurt me.

Michel sat up straighter in his office chair, as if being taller helped with his defense. Meri looked at him, his eyes wide and mouth agape. He’s hurting too. Damn him! How can I stay mad at this handsome, kind man?
He’s been nothing but kind to me while living with a violent bitch. My anger is misplaced. I’m really mad at Greta. Calm down, you fool. I overreacted because he hurt my feelings by believing Karla. When you live in a madhouse, you think crazy thoughts. The man loves me and I’ve loved him for a long time. But our love is not meant to be. I should be used to that kind of disappointment by now.

Meri sat back down and continued, less aggressively, although her voice quivered slightly with tumbling emotions. The grief of knowing their relationship had ended trumped her wounded pride, fear of an unknown future, and anger at how cruel the world had been to her. “Forgive me for my outburst. I was unfair to you. No matter how much we want to be together, we can’t for many reasons. I know that and you know that.”

Michel looked as if he wanted to say something, but Meri held up her hand to stop him. “Please, let me finish while I can. You did so much for me and for Jeannine. You saved our lives. I’m truly grateful. We wouldn’t have survived without your generosity. In my heart, I believe you helped us out of kindness and affection. You’re a decent man, Michel Dorval. I want you to know I’m a decent woman. Meri Vaarsara has and will never steal anything from anyone—not even a German. I admit I put the attaché in Karla’s room. She’s the one who dragged it into my room and ordered me to open it up or she would tell her father I had stolen it, which, of course, she did anyway. I saw the contents and was very frightened. In the middle of the night expendable people must think creatively to save themselves from impossible situations. I put Herr
Freels’ case in the real thief’s room. I will say nothing more in my defense.”

“I am sorry. How could I know?”

“Michel. All you needed to do was ask me. Ah, you couldn’t—your deal with Madame wouldn’t have allowed such a thing. What does it matter?” Meri crossed her arms and legs, letting one leg bang on the front of his desk. “Under the circumstances, I can see why there’s no job for me here. My reputation in your household is ruined and I don’t want to be a domestic for the rest of my life. You know my talents as a seamstress and yet you don’t offer me a job working for you because you’re afraid that Greta will find out, hunt me down and shoot me like she did Soldat. She might shoot you, too, right? Is she really so blinded by her hatred that she would risk imprisonment or death for murder just to keep us apart?” Meri leaned forward and put her elbows on his desk

Michel shook his head, but did not say a word.

“You were open about your hatred of the war she supported. Why can’t you stand up for yourself and me now?”

“It is very complicated, Meri.”

“I’m sure you feel that way, Michel. You feel like a trapped animal inside the cage of your marriage. The key to your freedom isn’t in Greta’s miserable fists, it’s in your hands, but you choose not to set yourself free. Why?” Meri shrugged. “Only you know. But I know this. It’s time I move on and find a life for me and my daughter. I’ll tell the Madame I resign.”

Michel stood up as Meri stood. She offered her hand to him. Rather than shake it as she assumed he would, he kissed it. His kiss lingered on her palm. When she withdrew her hand, she felt the resistance.
He doesn’t want to let go. Neither do I. Alas, I must. This part of my life is over. It’s time for me to rely on myself.