Felicite Found (10 page)

With Her

After spending a few fantastic days with Félicité—walking around the city, eating in cafes, and going to museum after museum, Pierre wished he didn’t have to go back to school. Stupid Mondays always came too fast. Unfortunately, Félicité hadn’t remembered any more about her life. Her memories were tightly tucked away somewhere in her mind. No matter how hard Pierre tried to help her, depression crept in, leaving her melancholy for the most part.

Considering this, he decided to see her one more time before he left for school, maybe cheer her up a bit. Plus, on a selfish note, not being with her until later that afternoon would kill him. And to make matters worse, his mom wouldn’t leave their sides until it was time for bed. Like he would try anything, he respected Félicité far too much.

But, it was a fact, Félicité had stolen his heart; she held it tenderly in the palm of her hand.

She looked beautiful with her flowing curls draped over the side of the bed like foliage cascading off the side of a rock wall. He couldn’t resist kissing her one more time before he left. Her lips would forever be engrained on his. The gentle touch of his lips caused Félicité to stir. Her eyes fluttered open as she regained a sense of where she lay.

“Good morning, gorgeous.”

“Hi.” Félicité pulled him into a hug. “What is that? You smell good.”

“Uh . . . cologne. Is it too strong?” He hardly ever wore it but wanted to impress Félicité, even though he knew it would fade before he arrived home.

Pierre began to play with a lock of her hair; it was soft as silk. He moved his hand from her hair down her right arm with a gentle glide until his hand held hers. She shivered at the touch.

“No, I like the smell.” She sniffed his neck again, nuzzling her face into him. “I wish you did not have to go back to school. I will miss you,” she whispered. Her eyelashes tickled his neck.

“Me, too.” He groaned. “So, since mom can’t take any more time off from work, Madame Rose will have you over. I hate to see you stuck at home bored out of your mind.” Pierre kissed her forehead and down her face until he found her lips.

After a moment, Félicité freed herself from his kisses. “Pierre, I feel as though I am imposing upon everyone—you,
your mother, and now Madame Rose. It bugs me that I cannot do anything for others. I am helpless without my memory.”

“Believe me, you’re not a bother to anyone, especially me. My mom likes you a lot. And you could never, ever impose upon Madame Rose.” He glanced over at the clock on the side-table. “Uh, I’ve got to get to school. I’ll try not to save any more girls falling off bridges,” he joked.

“Only if they aren’t pretty.” She frowned, a crease forming between her eyes.

“What do you mean?” He cocked his head to the side.

“It’s just that . . .”

“What?”

“I am not pretty. You will fall in love with someone else. Plus, I’m all messed up. Why would you want to be with me?”

“Come with me, Félicité.” He pulled her from the bed and led her to the bathroom.

He positioned her in front of the mirror, him behind her, and his arms wrapped around her stomach. He was a full head taller than her and much wider; it looked as though she was being engulfed by him.

“Do you see yourself, Félicité?” She nodded, scowling at her reflection. “No, do you really see yourself?”

Félicité’s eyes drifted across her face, her healing neck, her hair, her shoulders, and lastly her eyes. “I see nothing much.”

Pierre squeezed her to his body. “I see a girl who’s dealt with a lot in her life. A girl who deserves the best this world has to offer.” He rubbed the palms of his hands up and down her arms, desperately wanting her to believe his words. “Félicité, I love you for you, for your past, for your present, for your future—I hope
our
future.” He leaned down, his face even with hers. “You’re the most beautiful girl. Ever. You have absolutely no reason to worry because, Félicité, you have my heart and my soul forever. No matter what.”

He withdrew one of his hands from around her waist at the same time as he brushed his lips across her hair. Cupping his hand on her jaw, he twisted her face to his.

“Félicité, you’re what I have wanted all my life but never allowed myself to have. Your falling into my life has changed me to a guy who isn’t afraid of the future. If that helps you in any way to see how great you are, then please let it.”

He hugged her close. Sniffing, she started to cry.

“You can cry all you want. I love each and every one of your tears.” He kissed one of them from her face.

Félicité looked into his eyes and whispered, “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. At least, I am pretty sure of that.” She nuzzled her head into his chest. 

“Go back to bed for a while, my beautiful Félicité. Mom will wake you up before she leaves.”

“Get to school or else you will be late.” She shooed him away as she sat on the bed. He staggered back to give her a kiss laced with longing. He couldn’t believe how much he wished he were
just arriving home from school. He was whooped by this girl—oddly enough—in his bed. He laughed at the thought.

“See you later,” he said. She sighed, lying down.

School

The day wore on at a turtle’s pace. Pierre had looked at the clock at least a hundred times as he moved from one class to the next. He couldn’t pay attention to his teachers and schoolwork held little appeal to him. He resorted to sketching pictures of Félicité in his notes but was unable to capture her as perfectly as she was in person.

Luc kept eyeing him when they had the same classes. But Pierre had been busy talking to his teachers after his class to make sure he hadn’t missed much with being absent for a couple days. His friend scowled at him for his lack of attention. Fortunately for Pierre, they hadn’t had a chance to talk until lunchtime. But now he had to walk the plank. Luc was going to pry to find out what happened between Félicité and him.

They sat at their usual center table in the lunchroom. Luc wore a gargantuan smirk on his face that spoke louder than words. He planned on getting information out of Pierre if it were the last thing he did.

“Come on, I know there’s something up that you’re not telling me. You never miss school—uh, not until a girl is in your life.” His pestering was like a girl prying for information. The boy even pouted. “I know that
more
has happened than
you’re telling. You totally got with her, didn’t you?”

Pierre couldn’t hold back a smile, thinking about all the kissing going on lately.

“What’re you smiling about? You’re hiding something from your best friend.” He pounded his fists on his chest, all macho-like. More like a gorilla, though.

“I’ll tell you what I’m smiling about: you’re acting like a girl.” He picked up his pen and chucked it at Luc. It hit him square on the nose.

“Ouch! You don’t have to get all sensitive.”

Luc threw the pen back. If it weren’t for Pierre’s great reflexes, it would have hit him straight on the head. “Hey, what was that for?”

“I think you’re even crazier about her than I am.” Luc exploded with laughter. “You’re not in
love
, are you?” Luc took Pierre by his shirt collar after a long sigh came from his friend’s mouth. “I so don’t believe it, man.”

“Luc, you’re an idiot. You know that, right?”

“I’ll admit to my idiocy, only if you admit you’re in love with . . . What’s her name, anyway?” He released his grip on Pierre.

“Félicité.” Just saying her name aloud made his heart thump faster. He could feel his face flushing.

Please, Luc, don’t notice
.

“Nice name. Okay, I’ve admitted to my idiocy, your turn.” Luc pointed his finger at him, demanding an answer.

“I’m not saying a word.” Pierre folded his arms across his chest.

“I don’t need an answer. You just gave it away by turning red. But, really Pierre, you’re happier than I’ve ever seen you. What has this girl done to my best friend? I hope the old Pierre never comes back, though. No offence.” Luc snorted while holding his hands palm up.

“You’re funny, Luc. I’ll be honest with you, I do feel happier, but that’s all I’m going to say. You’re in the dark about everything else.”

“Just tell me, you’ve made out with her, right?”

Pierre studied his friend and debated telling him. No, Luc didn’t need to know anything. Félicité was too special to kiss and tell. He stood, grabbed his belongings, and marched out of the lunchroom after he dumped his lunch tray.

“Come on, man. Tell me?” He could hear Luc from down the hall. He shook his head.

Why do I like that guy so much?

School was more like five days’ worth of classes than one. As he placed his books in his bag, a manila folder fell from it. He picked it up as he had hundreds of times before. The police department allowed him to make a photocopy of his father’s unsolved murder file after he had begged them so many times they were annoyed with him. They were pretty shocked he even wanted it but agreed by only giving him a few documents.

Pierre stared at the photo of his father. He lay in a pool of blood with a knife on the floor just outside of the flat where he and his mom had lived for a short time when he was a boy.

Unfortunately, as the file stated, Hélène Rousseaux had found her husband’s body moments after the fatal stabbing. She had heard a struggle outside and went to see what the matter was. She opened the door to see someone racing away. Her husband lay on the hallway floor bleeding. 

Pierre counted the gruesome stab wounds on his father’s body as he had many times before—ten in all. He closed it with a moan and placed it back in his bag. It was morbid that he carried it around, but it always reminded him of his goal in life: to solve his father’s murder.

Madame Rose

Félicité tapped on Madame Rose’s door. It opened just as she removed her hand. Madame
Rose squealed with excitement. The next thing Félicité knew, she was in a surprisingly tight hug that sort of hurt her ribs. The elderly woman withdrew from the embrace and kissed Félicité’s now flushed cheeks, once on each side.

“Oh,
Félicité, it’s so nice to meet you. Come in and relax.” Pulled by her wrist, she was ushered into the flat and directed into an armchair.

“I appreciate the invitation.” She sat poised and e
rect on the chair, hands wringing her skirt. Madame Rose busied herself preparing coffee. “Can I help?”

“Don’t be silly, I’m an old woman but can still make coffee like a young maid.” She giggled as she bobbed up and down in place.

Félicité stood anyway. Her fingers twinged with some deep knit obligation to help prepare the coffee service as though she was well accustomed to the task. “I am but a young maid who is eager to help a very able woman,” Félicité said, not wanting to hurt her hostess’ feelings.

In minutes, they were both comfortably situated in their respective armchairs
enjoying their coffee and one another’s company. Although there was not much to be told,
Madame Rose wanted to know everything she could find out about Félicité. The girl told what little she could offer and then was eager to learn more about the aged woman.

“Please tell me about yourself, Madame Rose.” She leaned forward, face held up by her hand.

“Where do I begin? I was born in Southern France. I spent many days on the beach with my sisters and friends. My parents died when I was young, leaving my sisters and I to be brought up by an aunt and uncle in Switzerland. They couldn’t have children so it was nice to have us there.” Madame Rose smiled as if thinking of fond memories.

“Unfortunately, two of my sisters passed away before I was eighteen, leaving my thirteen-year-old sister and me alive. I decided to move back to France with her. We struggled for many years because I couldn’t find proper employment. But then I met my dear husband, Charles. We married some months later. When my sister turned seventeen, she moved to America. A month after her leaving, I found out that she had died of pneumonia. The only consolation to my grief was the companionship of my Charles.

“We had many good years together, but weren’t able to have children.” Madame Rose looked to the wall, a slight frown on her face.

“Since he died, I’ve lived a good life spending time with friends, reading good books, and taking care of my sweet Hélène and Pierre. She’s as close to a daughter as I could ever have wished for.” She sighed. “And Pierre is like a grandson to me. I love them both with all of my heart. I have to tell you that you have made a good match with him.”

Félicité coughed, choking on a sip of her coffee and then tried to object, but Madame Rose cut her off before she could say anything. “You may protest my young little bird, but I can tell he is head over heels for you. And whenever I say his name you can’t hold back a smile.”

“Oh, it’s true.” She found it hard to lie to the little woman. “I do like Pierre. I just wish I could remember who I am. It would make our relationship easier—him knowing who I am and all.”

Madame
Rose scanned the room until her eyes fell upon the bookshelf. She bumped clumsily into an end table, straightened herself quickly, then made it over to a shelf and collected a tiny tin box. She blew dust off of it; the tiny particles spread throughout the air until they rested upon the shelf again. Opening it revealed a necklace with a simple brass key hanging from the chain. She held it dangling from her hand and explained the great value the necklace had for her.

“My father gave me this as a present when I was eight. He said it would help me find myself and unlock what the future had in store for me. I wore it every day of my life until the death of my dear Charles. At that point, I felt that I had no more need for it. I keep it on the shelf as a reminder of the happy life I’ve lived. Félicité, I want you to have it now, so you can find happiness in your future.” With shaking hands, Madame Rose unclasped the chain with some difficulty.

“No, no. I cannot accept it. I appreciate the offer, though.”

The old woman’s expression became solemn, her shoulders slumping. “Félicité, my father told me that, at some point in my life, someone else may have a greater need for it than me. I’ve been waiting twenty long years to find someone who could use it more than me. That person is you, Félicité.”

She teetered the short distance across the room to Félicité, placed the necklace around her neck and clasped it. The key dropped just above her chest.

Félicité’s throat tightened as moisture filled her eyes. She wrapped her arms around Madame
Roses’ body. “You will never know how much I appreciate this.” She wiped her tears away and noticed that Madame Rose was crying, too.

The old woman pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket for Félicité and one for herself. “I always carry two just in case someone else needs one.” They both laughed as they dabbed their eyes.

Many hours and great conversation later, Madame Rose led Félicité the short distance home. “You are welcome anytime, dear.”

“I will probably take you up on that offer. I’ll be bored out of my mind with Pierre and Hélène gone all day.” 

“Like I said, anytime.” Madame Rose gave Félicité a tight squeeze.

Félicité clutched at the small key necklace that was now hers and thought,
Please, help me to remember, little necklace. Please.