Chapter 27
Written and illustrated by Elaine Troisi
Paris
Rue du Tresor
May 4
Marin, Rachel, and Maurice, and ...
Rachel knocked on Maurice’s bedroom door. It was 9 a.m.. Faintly she heard laughter, muffled as though from a distance. She knocked again.
“Good morning, lovebirds!” She listened again. Still no reply. Just voices. She poked her head inside. The laughter came from the shower, so she put the espresso tray on the bed and quietly left.
An hour later, hand in hand, the couple entered the kitchen, thanking Rachel for the espresso.
Marin put the tray on the kitchen counter. She put her arms around Rachel. She was blushing, unsure of what to say. Something had shifted.
She didn't have to explain after all. Rachel smiled broadly. “No secrets in this house. I'm so happy love has found its way into your hearts.”
Maurice exhaled, even though he did not realize he had been holding his breath. “Yes, it is love!” he looked into Marin’s bright eyes. “I wasn't expecting it, but it magically appeared at just the right time!”
“Would you two prefer to hang out here today. I can make breakfast for you,” she offered.
Maurice looked at Marin and saw agreement there. “Let's go to our usual café for breakfast,” he suggested.
Rachel looked surprised. “That's fine with me. I could eat a goat!”
Everyone laughed. The tension immediately eased. Marin and Maurice felt relieved at Rachel’s acceptance of them as a couple.
After breakfast, all three went for a stroll. It was Paris and there was something special to do or see on every block.
But t soon they were talking about war time in Paris. How it was for their parents. The constant threat to their safety. Worse because they were Jewish.
Rachel said, “How did they live with the constant fear, the food that was denied them. Just so that the German military leaders could dine sumptuously. The collaborators who fed them and dressed them and even housed them .
“Levitan!” Marin cried out. “ that's why they could live so lavishly.” She let out a deep sigh. “What became of my grandparents, Moishe and Golde?”
Maurice saw the tortured look on her face. “ We can find out. There’s something I must show you. I'm a bit of a coward. I must admit. You'll see why!”
Back inside Marin’s house, they entered the dining room which she had barely explored. Running her hand over the smooth Louis XV table, she said, “We really must dine here. Rachel and I are planning to take a cooking class. French cuisine, of course!” She was smiling.
“And I have the brochure in my room. We really must. Care to join us, little brother?”
Maurice gave a hearty laugh. “Not unless the art of boiling water is a prerequisite!” He put a gentle hand on his sister’s shoulder. With a peck on her cheek, he said, “And enough with the ‘little brother’ routine, unless you want me to address you by ‘elder sister,’ he said laughing."
“Okay, okay, Maurice,” Rachel said, smiling, though there was a hint of color in her cheeks.
Maurice became serious, as he walked around the room. “Bubbe and Zeda lived here until I was about 3 or 4. The room was nearly bare then.”
Rachel interrupted, puzzled. “Bubbe and Zeda? You, I mean, we had grandparents?”
“No, that's just what we called them. They just lived here in number 4. We lived next door in number 6. Don't you remember? Before you were sent to safety?”
“Wait. Maybe. I remember a room. There was a radio and a typewriter. Yes, I would sit on my papa’s lap and clickety-clack learn the alphabet song on it. I sang songs with Bubbe.” She paused, trying to recall what had been taken from a 3 year old child.
“What a warm memory, Rachel.” Marin pgave her hand a squeeze.
“Why now? I never thought of this before, Maurice.” She looked into his eyes and saw memories there, too. “Maybe we can learn more about our past by taking morning walks,” she exclaimed, smiling.
“You may be right, Rachel. I brought you to this room, in part because of a memory.”
He went on, “When I was little, I came to this room for hide-and-seek with Zeda. He was old and slow then.” Here, he explained, as he went to a small built in cupboard with old crockery inside. A large soup tureen rested on the center shelf. Oddly, not much else.
“I don't remember this at all,” Rachel said.
“Well,” Maurice continued, “ I wanted to hide inside. The perfect spot. But I pulled the knob, but it wouldn't open. I turned the knob this way and that. Finally I went inside. Just like this. See?”
They watched. The cupboard door opened. Then the soup tureen slid from view. Marin and Rachel gasped. Maurice stepped inside and the soup tureen slid into view again, but Maurice was gone.
“What in the world!” Marin exclaimed.
“Now I remember!” Rachel screamed. Her voice softened as she repeated. “I remember, too.” She disappeared inside the cupboard.
“Alright, guys. Now it's my turn.” No response. “Okay, the joke’s on me. Let me in!” Marin wasn't sure if she was worried or curious.
The shelf inside the cupboard slid open, and the giggling siblings, children again, pulled her inside. Maurice flipped a switch. They were on a large landing with steep stairs ahead.
“What is this place?” Marin found herself whispering as if in a holy place. It snelled of dust, stale, old.
“This is my hide-and-seek place from Zeda,” Maurice explained. “Boy, did I get into trouble when he found me.” He smiled. “But he hugged me and told me I was his little engineer for figuring out how to get in. I never admitted that it was just dumb luck.” Maurice laughed.
“Anyway, he helped me down the steps. I was in awe at the size of the space, at least to a little boy. And, yes, Rachel, there was a radio and a typewriter! Look, they are just there, Rachel. Is it as you remember?”
They moved to the chair by the radio. “Mama cried here. I sat on her lap and kissed her tears away. Why was she crying?”
“See?” Maurice said. “Here is the typewriter on the desk, where you sang the alphabet song!”
Just then, they were distracted by a shuffling noise. They became still, listening in alarm. No one dared to move. “Marin whispered, “You both heard that, right?" both nodded. They heard it again.
Maurice positioned himself in front, reaching his hand behind him, reaching for something. His hand found it. A heavy can.
More shuffling. Out of the dark shadows came a voice, “it's me. Bill.”
An aging man stepped from the shadows, laughing nervously . “Marin, Rachel. I don't know who scared who qfirst. I wasn't expecting to see you down here!”
Marin replied, the alarm dissipating. “What's going on , Uncle Bill? What are you doing here?” She put her arms around his shoulders. Rachel took her turn, glad to see her old friend.
“Wait a minute,” Maurice intruded, “I think an introduction is needed.”
Bill extended a hand. It was accepted. “Bill Langley. I was Max Soneberg’s attorney, bookkeeper and close friend. It’s so nice to meet you, Maurice Rabineau!” He exclaimed.
Maurice raised his eyebrows. “You know me?”
Bill smiled. “I know everything , now that I've been here, off and on, since my two girls arrived,” he exclaimed.
“What?” Marin was totally confused. “Did you know Bill was here, Rachel?”
Bill explained, “I did my best to be here when both of you were out.”
“You mean you were the one prowling around the house all this time, scaring us to death. Why on earth?” Rachel was the boss, and she was letting it be known.
Maurice put his arm around her shoulder, calming her. She was shaking.
Something caught his eye, just over her shoulder,11 something that wasn't there in times past. A tall easel with a painting he recognized.
Turning to Bill, he asked. “This is one of Hitler’s so-called degenerates’ paintings. It’s by Paul Klee. I've been looking for it for years. You found it?” He looked at Bill.
“Uncle Bill, I'm really confused. What is happening?” The tinge of anger remained.
“Marin, sweetheart, you are not the only one Max sent here on a mission. He sent me here as well!”
“And the lost Paul Klee?” Maurice insisted.
Stares and confusion all around.
Note :
We are fast approaching the conclusion of THE URN! ! Enjoy!
Tell me how you would like to see the novel end! I'm listening!
www.elainestories.com
etlainie92@gmail.com