Hello? Anyone out there?
Rescued from the sea
A sauvé de la mer
––
Scene XXI
Focus: la Suédoise
Charlotte had become nosey since their conversation. Sometimes she caught Ralph looking funny at her. She would be making an omelette or crepes in the morning and chatting meaninglessly, and glance over to see him watching her with a distant look. He seemed bemused and distractedly worried, where in contrast, her classes were going wonderfully and she felt better than she had in weeks. Except when she noticed him staring at her as if she were a window to look out of. At first she assumed it was just a matter of sorting and dealing with his memories, but soon she began to wonder if there wasn't something else.
She casually searched through Ralph's bureau glancing at letters and photos. A page of handwritten notes caught her attention. She bent over them, with one hand she scooped back a cascade of blonde hair and the other mechanically flicked through the pages. In a moment she had determined that they were so vague, she'd find no insight whatsoever. Charlotte pulled out each drawer and nudged the mundane objects lightly. Her fingers trailed over a set of antique drafting tools for moment as she paused to admire them.
In the bottom lefthand drawer, she was surprised to find the red Hérmes's scarf her father had given her for her tenth birthday. Charlotte wondered why and when he had taken it from her room, and reached down to lift it out of the drawer. Immediately, she realized that he had wrapped it around something heavy, and when the silk shifted and cold metal pressed against her fingers she dropped it as though it were a snake. Her heart stopped in fear that the pistol would fire as it clatter to the floor. Her heart sat heavily on her tongue as she leaned forward to examine the cold blue steel of a colt .45 protruding from the delicate scarlet folds of silk. It looked disturbingly like a pool of blood
Where, how, why had Ralph gotten a gun? It looked old, but Charlotte was no judge, she'd never seen a gun in her life.He'd be thrown in jail if anyone knew he had it. She couldn't imagine where he had gotten it. Not even the police carried guns! She swallowed uneasily, thinking of Ralph making deals in backrooms. It seemed unlikely, perhaps it was a relic from the second world war? She knew Ralph's grandfather had worked for the resistance.
Hesitantly, Charlotte tugged the scarf back and was relieve that the flint wasn't cocked. Even more cautiously, she picked it up, with the scarf covering her hands, and pushed the bullet chamber out to see if it was filled. Six combs filled with honey golden rounds lay cupped between her unsteady hands. She snapped it shut, re-wrapped it and gently tucked it back in the drawer.
The fact that it was fully loaded was telltale.
––
Scene XXII
Focus: le gardien galant et la Suédoise
Badum, badum, badum...Charlotte lay next to her father, listening to his heartbeat for half the day. Not saying a word, just listening, and holding his hand. The sound was steady, and it let her recenter herself.
That was how she spent her birthday. By her father's side, to Ralph's dismay. It was the last place she ought to have been. Her social life suffered from it, badly. Sometimes he wanted to shake her and tell her she couldn't go on dwelling like this, she had to move on, but he didn't have the heart. Especially now.
He thought about throwing a surprise party for her when she got home, but he knew how tired she would be. So he bought an expensive bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon and invited Marguerite over for a quiet meal. She shuffled sleepily into the kitchen around noon as he was unpacking his groceries.
"Morning, Little Lotte," he said affectionately as she yawned. "Here," he said, pulling the wine bottle out, excitedly.
"Oh!" She bent over to read the label and looked up at him in surprise. "Ralph?"
He swallowed a little, how could anyone possibly be so lovely just after climbing out of bed? Her blonde hair was pleasantly mussed and her complexion creamy. He dragged his thoughts back to her query.
"I invited Marguerite over for a birthday luncheon. You had better take your shower, m'dear. She should be here in an hour or so." He kissed her swiftly on the cheek and hastily turned back to the meat parcels for the main course. She flushed lightly and padded off.
––
Scene XXII
Focus: la Suédoise
As her slender fingertips wound suds across her scalp they probed the bottom lefthand drawer of her brain.
Should she tell Ralph she knew? She didn't know. She could only assume it was because of Erik. Charlotte was well aware of how irrational Ralph could be about Erik. Honestly, who could blame him?
Though Charlotte had her reservations on the gun's effectiveness in the matter at hand. If Erik still wasn't dead, would six rounds make much difference?
But if that was the price of Ralph's peace of mind, she would suppress her own discomfort. There would be no occasion for its use. It was merely another curio tuck away in a drawer to collect dust.
Charlotte didn't think of it again. Not until that Friday.
––
Scene XXII
Focus: le gardien galant et la Suédoise
Shadows were beginning to grow long again as the trio finished desert.
"Thank you, Ralph, Margo, that was lovely," Charlotte murmured. She curled her legs under her in contentment.
"Oh, you're not getting away that easily," Marguerite returned, "you haven't even opened your presents."
Her face fell and she began to, predictably, object. "I don't want presents. What do I need things for when I have you all?"
"The lady doth protest too much," Marguerite muttered dryly and Ralph stifled a laugh. "Really, don't get so worked up, or you're bound to be disappointed. Ralph, since expectations are so high, you'd better go first to let her down easy."
He shrugged and retrieved an enormous bouquet of fragrant white roses from the kitchen and a parcel from his room. Charlotte smelled the flowers appreciatively and then gently set them aside to take the package. Wondering that she hadn't noticed it earlier. It was a heavy for its size and wrapped in simple sky blue paper tied in a pretty emerald silk ribbon. With a whimsical smile she removed the paper and lifted the lid to reveal a fine leather album.
"Open it," Ralph urged.
She did and there was her only picture with both her mother and father. The next few pages contained careful arrangement of all her family memorabilia. Charlotte had to set it aside because she was afraid of getting it wet. Marguerite was a step ahead, taking it from her and providing a handkerchief at the same time.
"Thank Ralph, thank you very much, it's wonderful."
"I'm glad."
"God, you look like your mother, Charlotte," Marguerite drawled.
"Really?" Charlotte asked, surprised. She hastily wiped her face and leaned over.
"I guess I do."
"She has her father's nose though," Ralph teased.
"Gee, thanks Ralph," she responded sarcastically.
"Yes, thanks Ralph," Marguerite cut in with affected effrontery, "how am I suppose to live up to the gift of the decade, huh? Jerk," she muttered and carelessly threw her package at Charlotte.
Charlotte caught it reflexively and laughed.
"Well Marguerite, if that's how you feel about it–"
"Children..." Charlotte interrupted, a little exasperated.
She opened the card first, inside were two tickets to the next Friday's performance of Napoli.
––
The significance of that is? The opera houses only the ballet company nowadays. Accompanied by a few trite allusions to Poe.
I've been thinking about presenting this whole story in chronological order as a reference. What think you?