Nothing I could say could take back the pain I had caused, so in true Yu fashion, I filled her plate with her favorites and hoped it was enough for now. Forgiveness could not be asked for, it must be earned, and it took time. We ate in silence, swallowing the words we dared not say aloud.
Forty-Six
My aunt found me in the kitchen making jasmine tea at sunrise. I bucked the trend of sleeping in to provide support for my heartbroken aunt. She still moved with grace, yet an underlying weariness tainted every gesture. Dark smudges settled under her eyes.
“We have leftover sushi. Do you want that for breakfast?” I asked.
She pulled the chair out. The legs dragged on the hardwood floor from the effort, an uncomfortable sound that echoed through the apartment. “It has to be eaten.”
I took the food from the fridge and grabbed the plates and cutlery. “You will get through this. Not because you’ve foreseen it, but because you are one of the strongest women I know.”
She met my eyes, searching for a sign that I had said my words in jest and, when she found none, reached for my hand across the table. I squeezed her hand in mine. Aunt Evelyn drew in a deep breath as if to collect herself.
“You will survive this,” I repeated with a smile. “Uncle Michael mentioned you are as stubborn as I am.”
“More so. I had more years of practice.” Aunt Evelyn straightened her shoulders. “Today, I’ll open up the shop. It’s another day that I can fight. Come to work with me. You can pretend to be a customer.”
I laughed. “If you want me there, I’ll be there.”
“I’d really appreciate the company.”
* * *
* * *
In her shop Aunt Evelyn seemed more like herself.
She wasn’t as hopeful or as cheerful as I’d seen her, but her smiles were more frequent. For the first time in days, my worries about her welfare subsided. There was a quiet strength underneath the immaculate facade. This beautiful woman, whom I was proud to call my aunt, survived the most devastating of heartbreaks.
She would be fine.
I would be fine.
The bell above the door tinkled.
Ines entered carrying two small boxes in her arms with her bakery’s logo. The gold bangles on her wrist jingled, matching her dangling gold earrings. The smile on her ruby lips rivaled the sunshine outside. “Good morning, ladies.”
Aunt Evelyn and Ines exchanged three sets of cheek air kisses.
“How are you and Luc?” I asked.
“We are quite happy.” She blushed. “Our parents met for dinner and it went better than expected. It didn’t occur to Luc’s parents until now that having their in-laws as bakers could be beneficial to their grocer business. They’ve been so fixated on organic farming that they failed to see other possibilities. There will be a formal meeting of families in two weeks at his grandparents’ chateau in Toulouse. We’re both optimistic, and terrified.”
Aunt Evelyn’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’m happy for you, Ines. I know how long you waited.”
“You’re looking better.” Ines unloaded the boxes on the counter and examined my aunt’s face. “Maman was worried about you.”
“Fatima is sweet.” My aunt reached for my hand and drew me to her side. “I had a chat with my niece this morning. She adjusted my perspective.”
“You are going to fight then?” Ines asked.
“Yes. I’ll find a way to get around this ridiculous boycott.”
I let go of my aunt’s hand to investigate the wonderful aromas coming from the boxes Ines delivered. One contained a variant of the lacy egg roll cookies I was used to back home. Unlike the round cylindrical shape of the egg rolls, these were rolled flat, a deeper golden color, and as small as my pinkie finger. Half of the stack was chocolate dipped and the rest were plain.
“Those are crêpes dentelles,” Ines explained to me. “They’re very crispy and one of your aunt’s favorites. Aren’t they?”
My aunt didn’t answer.
Her gaze was fixated on one of the windows, where a lone blue morpho butterfly clung to the glass.
Forty-Seven
I waved my hand in front of her face. “Auntie?”
Aunt Evelyn didn’t budge. Her dark eyes never wavered from their point of focus.
Ines followed our gaze. “Is that a butterfly? Oh, how beautiful.”
We all fell silent. A figure appeared outside the window, accompanied by a cluster of dancing blue morphos. Girard. He wore a tailored dark navy suit. The serious expression on his handsome face contrasted with his whimsical, fluttering entourage.
Ines stood on one side of my aunt while I took my place on the other. We flanked her for protection and support.
“What do you think he wants?” Ines asked in a low whisper.
I frowned. “I have no idea, but if he wants a fight, I’m not leaving my aunt’s side.”
Girard stood near the door. He seemed to be rifling through a small stack of papers in his hands. After a few seconds of reading, he tucked the pile under his arm and opened the door.
Aunt Evelyn didn’t move. Her posture remained stiff, and her unwavering dark eyes were fixed forward, toward the exit. Her hand shook in mine, tiny tremors that I steadied with a firm squeeze.
Girard stepped inside. The butterflies hovered by the windows, dancing to an invisible melody in a cascading holding pattern, a curtain of undulating blue petals.
“Monsieur Renaud, may I ask what your business is here? I can’t imagine you’ve dropped by to purchase tea.” My aunt’s tone was brusque and professional.
“May I speak with you in private, Evelyn?” he asked in English.
Ines and I refused to move. I didn’t need to look over to confer. We were waiting for my aunt’s word.
“What you can say to me, you can say to them.” My aunt stood firm. “This isn’t negotiable.”
“Please, Evelyn.” His deep voice broke into a whisper. “But, if you insist. Why did you come to Paris? I need to hear this from you.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” She let go of our hands and stepped forward. “I came here so we could be together.”
Ines and I moved behind the counter. It was too late to give them privacy without being obvious: the interior of the shop was small, and Girard blocked the only exit.
She and Girard moved closer until there were only a few steps separating them. A soft mist gathered at their feet, spreading outward, coalescing into fluffy clouds that reached us behind the counter. It was unexpectedly warm, and its color thickened into the opaqueness of whipped marshmallows.