I stared down at him. The lantern cast severe shadows on his face, and his smirk appeared almost sinister. I rubbed my fingertips together. They were still gritty with dirt from the plane floor. My other hand pulsed beneath the pressure of the bandage.
"I was…"
He exhaled, turning his head to the side, but keeping one eye on me.
I rubbed my fingertips back and forth, trying to think fast. I rubbed them so frantically that a ball of oily debris formed between my thumb and forefinger.
God, what was on that floor? I thought.
"I was...checking for crumbs," I said.
"For crumbs?"
"Yeah, you know, because of the rats."
"The rats?"
"Yeah, because if there are any crumbs in the plane, then, you know, the rats will move right in, and the next thing you know, rat honeymoon, and then two dozen little rat babies running amuck in the engine...or propellor...or the seat cushions."
Shut up! I screamed inside my own mind.
"Or maybe not the seat cushions," I said.
God! Just shut up!
"Rat honeymoon, huh?" he said.
"Yeah," I continued, "Felix said the plane was made of wood and canvas; those are two things that rats like."
"They sure are."
He took another long drag of the cigarette. I stood in the cockpit, not quite sure how to segue myself out of the conversation.
"You do realize how ridiculous you sound, right?" he said.
I sighed and lowered the lantern.
"Oh, shut up and help me get down," I said.
With the cigarette snug between his lips, he stepped toward the plane and reached out a hand, grabbing me by the elbow and guiding me down.
"What are you really doing out here?" he mumbled around the cigarette.
"I already told you," I said, straightening my skirt.
"You expect me to believe the rat thing?"
"And why not? The last thing we need is a rodent infestation. I mean, the sooner this plane is fixed and out of here, the better...for all of us."
I mumbled that last part under my breath, and even if he had heard me, I don't think he'd have fully understood.
"Uh-oh!" he said. "Trouble in paradise?"
"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."
But it was too late; I had already blushed, already turned a shoulder away from him.
"Oh, no?"
"No."
"So you aren't out here in the middle of the night because you want to leave a little love note for a special mademoiselle to find?"
"A love note?!"
I tried to laugh it off, as if it were a crazy idea, but the laugh came out more bitter than bamboozled.
"Don't be stupid!" I said with my back to him.
"Wait a minute," he said, his tone suddenly sincere. "I was just joking."
He reached for my elbow again. I shrugged him off.
"I don't care about your stupid jokes. I'm going inside."
I headed for the barn door, taking the lantern with me.
"Delphine, wait. What's wrong?" he said, following right behind me, tugging gently on my shirt sleeve.
"Nothing," I said. "There's no love note. There was never a love note, okay? Let's just drop it."
"I thought things were going so well! What happened?"
I stood just inside the barn door, speaking to the darkness.
"Laurent, are you asking me what I think you're asking me?"
He didn't answer.
"Are we really talking about this? Right now?"
Still he was quiet.
I wasn't surprised at his silence. Despite all of our trips to Le Chiot, despite all of his intense friendships with men, despite all of my willingness to tag along, love was a topic we had never discussed, not in any serious way.
The crickets chirped outside, as if to say, "We know. We know. We know."
He stubbed out the cigarette with the toe of his boot.
"Sure," he said. "Why not? It's as good a time as any."
"Okay," I said. "You start."
"Look," he said. "I know you like her...Cosima."
That's not what I meant, I thought. I meant talk about you!
"I like a lot of people," I said.
"I know she kissed you, and I know you're mad, and I know that's why you nearly cut off your finger this morning."
Before he could even finish his sentence, I spun around and grabbed him by the shirt.
"Who told you that!?" I shouted.
He laughed, which only enraged me further. I threw my body weight at him, shoving against him with both hands, even though it was more painful for me than it was for him.
"Relax!" he said.
He reached for my hand.
"This is a new shirt! You're going to ruin it!"
"Then tell me who told you!"
"Felix, of course!" he said, prying at my fingers.
"How does he know? God! Were you guys spying on us?"
"No," he said, and the smirk was gone from his face. "Cosima told him, and he told me, that's all!"
I glared into his face, twisting his shirt until the fabric was tight around his chest. He winced, not in physical pain, but in psychic pain.
"You're going to tear it!" he squealed.
Finally, I let him go. He looked down at his shirt, rubbing vigorously at the wrinkled fabric.
She told him, I thought. She told Felix everything. And now Laurent knows everything.
"Look," he said. "It's no big deal. A little lover's quarrel. So what? I just thought you guys had made up, that's all."
I felt exposed in that surreal kind of way, like standing naked in front of the entire classroom, like I did sometimes in my dreams. I was embarrassed despite Laurent's nonchalant attitude.
Goosebumps rose on the back of my arms, my elbows, and the back of my hands.
I'm going to kill her!
"Don't tell mom and dad," I said suddenly.
"Of course not! Do you think I'm crazy?!"
Then he looked at me sideways.
"Wait a minute. Have you?" he asked. "Told mom and dad about me?"
"Non."
The barn was silent again, save for a rodent scurrying in the rafters. Laurent glanced up and let out a laugh. I think he meant it as a truce.
"Guess you were right about the rats," he said.
"Did Felix tell you anything else?"
"Non."
I couldn't decide I if liked that answer or hated it. Either way, my stomach was tight and my jaw was clenched, and I was ready to give him another good shove.
Instead, I turned around and pulled open the barn door.
Laurent spoke up.
"He did say... just that...Cosima hasn't shut up about you since the moment she crashed that plane into Lumiere's field."
I stopped. I didn't look at him but I listened.
"And?"
"And, well, he's sick of hearing about you, if that's what you want to know. And, I don't know, I think she really likes you..."
He took a breath.
"Don't you like her?" he asked, his voice gentle.
"Je ne sais pas," I said and I was out the door, leaving him alone in the dark.
I was already halfway to the house when I remembered the Cipher Machine hidden in the plane. But I was already gone too long, and if I returned to the barn to check on him, he'd know something was up. I had to just keep walking and hope for the best.
But it was one more sleepless night for me; the worst night of my short life. My mind moved at jagged angles.
I'm going to kill her! No, I'm going to talk to her! No, I'm going to ignore her! No, I'm going to tell her to get that machine and that plane away from my family!
Then, according to their own twisted geometry, the thoughts folded back on themselves.
I'm going to ignore her! And Laurent! But Laurent is my family... And my family is in danger... And Cosima is in danger! Oh, god!
And my emotions exploded in sudden, unpredictable bursts; sometimes raging at her betrayal, sometimes grieving at my loss, sometimes fearing, sometimes plotting, sometimes laughing at the memory of the day we met, the way she tried to clean off my dress, the way she brushed my arms and chest and stomach with her gloved hands — and then came the yearning.
Oh! The yearning! Inevitably, it would come, and my entire body would burn.
I'd kill for her to touch me again… to kiss me again.
These thoughts were my final destination, the one that I arrived at over and over again, until finally, I let the other emotions fall away and let the exhaustion put me to sleep.
But rather than sleep all the next day, I woke with the sun, the same questions still running through my mind. I went about my day in a daze, not paying attention to much because what was there to pay attention to?
Monsieur Lumiere came by the house just after lunch, asking if the American had returned yet with his money.
"We aren't expecting them today," my mother said.
Monsieur Lumiere looked at me.
"You said she'd bring it on Monday. It's Monday. Where is she?"
"How am I supposed to know?" I said. "I'm just the messenger,"
My mother pinched the back of my arm.
"Delphine, watch your tone," she grumbled under her breath before turning a smile to Lumiere. "Like I said, we aren't expecting them today, but I'm sure she will bring your payment the next time she is in town. They have to come back for that plane sometime, right?"
"Hmph," Lumiere said before walking away.
My mother turned to me with her hands on her hips.
"I don't know what's gotten into you these days, but whatever it is, you better figure it out, because I don't like your attitude, and I most certainly won't let you be rude to guests in this house."
"Lumiere is rude," I said. "I was just speaking his language so he could understand me better."
My mother's mouth was a thin line, one that trembled slightly, and her cheeks started to flush red right before my eyes.
"Delphine Marie Cormier you go to you get out of my sight, and don't come back until you have a better attitude."
I dropped the half-washed green beans into the collider, untied my apron and dumped it on the table. I thought for a moment to go to my room, but the idea of laying on my bed and not sleeping was unsavory. I pushed open the front door.
I walked along the road, but not toward Lumiere's house, not toward the small stream, or the small grove of cherry trees, and definitely not toward the barn. No, I walked in the opposite direction, toward the town center.
But when I arrived at the outskirts of town, at the place where cobblestones sprang up from the dirt road, I thought better of it.
Everyone will have questions, I thought. About the plane, about the pilots. Better not.
I found myself climbing over the rickety wooden fence into the farthest stretches of the Cormier vineyards. I found myself wandering the rows of leafy green vines, idly reaching for the fruit, idly plucking it and tasting it, allowing myself that simple pleasure. The grapes were perfect, just right for winemaking. I wondered if my father knew.
Of course he knows, I thought. He knows everything about these grapes.
I smiled to myself, nostalgic for the time when I used to think my father knew everything about everything, for the time when the vineyards were everything, and beyond them, even Rosheim had seemed like part of the elusive everything else.
But I was only a child then; I could not go back to those days even if I had wanted to. It was a way of thinking I was missing, not an actual time or place; it was a naiveté that was both embarrassing and precious.
I spit the grapes seeds onto the ground, and the red juice landed on my bandaged hand, looking almost indistinguishable from a fresh drop of blood.
Everything has changed, I thought. Only the vineyards are the same.
The thought made me sad, but I couldn't say why. I looked back at the house. If someone asked me what had changed about the house, about the town, about my family or myself, I wouldn't know where to point. It was a dread, a dull dread, a knowing that everything else in the world was not benevolent and was not that far away.
And Cosima brought it with her, I thought. She brought that machine with her, right here to our home. Where did she even get it from? Why would she bring it here? No, I don't want to know!
I walked alone between the grapevines, my back to the road, walking as far away from everyone as I could without actually leaving the boundaries of my home. I wanted to be alone, I wanted some answers, but most of all, I wanted the pilots to leave so that everything could go back to the way it was.
But then the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I heard a sound, the distant rumbling of a motor, and I spun around. I stood still and listened. In the distance, I saw the characteristic cloud of dust rising up from the road and spilling over the tops of the grapevines.
They're back!
I took off running toward the road, but I was too far away. I waved my hands in the air and shouted, but the motorcycle tore right past.
I stopped dead in my tracks.
The motorcycle had passed so fast that I couldn't be sure, but I thought I saw Cosima in the driver's seat, and I thought I saw a suitcase in the side car. And most shocking of all, I thought I saw Cosima's bare knees and bare elbows — she was wearing a dress.
"She's back!" I shouted to the grapevines, and I ran as fast as I could toward the house.