Bennett Sisters Mystery, Volumes 1-2, page 53
“Oh god,” Francie said, her face smashed into Merle’s shoulder. “I don’t want to do that again.”
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Merle and Francie sat on the ground, a blanket around their shoulders, holding onto each other. The fire burned on but they sat outside the active zone, spectators now. A fire truck lumbered up with its water tank but too late. The roof caved in fifteen minutes after Francie and Cyril got out. Pascal kept working tirelessly. He helped carry Cyril to the helicopter to be flown to a hospital.
Francie refused to go. She lay her head on Merle’s shoulder, quiet now. There would be time to talk later. She had been wild to call Jack and Bernie and their sisters until Merle told her they didn’t know about the abduction, that she’d kept it to herself so they could fly home together and tell the story with all the flourishes and drama. Francie’s knees had given out then and she cried for a minute. The nightmare was over. The relief was palpable, that no one had been stressed and worried, wondering if she was dead or alive. No one but her middle sister.
Merle wiped away tears on both their faces. They would recant the tale together at home, with everyone there. It would become a moment of family lore, the telling and re-telling. It would morph into legend, or not. Whatever Francie wanted. For Merle, her arms tight around the sister she had underestimated and undervalued but would never, ever do again as long as she lived, it was enough to be right here, right now.
Safe and sound.
Chapter Forty-Eight
As dawn crept into the eastern sky, turning the scene of the fire a smoldering, ghostly pink, Pascal put Merle and Francie into his car and drove back to Guzargues. He looked exhausted. They all did, gray smudges under their eyes, ash from head to toe. In the back seat Francie lay her head back and was asleep when they pulled up to the gendarmerie.
Standing in the bright sun Pascal turned to Merle. He began to speak but she put a finger to his lips and leaned in to kiss him. They wrapped their arms around each other silently. Finally Merle pulled back and took his face in her hands. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Merci, mon chèri.”
He drove them home to Malcouziac in the afternoon. The sisters couldn’t stay awake. Merle tried to stay alert to talk to him but kept nodding off. When she woke up they were on rue de Poitiers again, parking beside the broken stones of the wall as they’d done so often.
Francie took the shower first. She was desperate, she said. Merle had asked if the men had hurt her and she said only that she was slapped a couple times. Nothing else, she said pointedly. “You know I would tell you, Merle,” she said, giving her sister a hug.
Pascal stripped off his t-shirt and stood under the old cistern to wash his head and arms. When he’d dried off he and Merle sat at the dining table, trying to process what had happened. He pulled her into his lap and buried his face in her chest. They were sitting that way, silently, listening to the shower run, when the knock came on the door.
He looked over her shoulder. “Merde.” James waited outside, wearing the same blue polo shirt and khakis he’d arrived in. “I’ll get rid of him.”
James startled at the sight of Pascal, shirtless and damp. “Is Merle here?”
“She’s busy. What is it?”
Merle appeared at Pascal’s bare shoulder. “It’s okay. Hi, James.”
“There you are.” He looked back and forth between them. “I’ve been worried. So, ah, I’m going home. I’m taking the train to Paris tonight. The priest dropped the charges. They just called. He’s in the hospital or something.”
“Great. I’m glad,” Merle said.
“You look— are you dirty or something?”
She wiped a swath through the gray ash on her arm. “I guess I am.”
James pulled back his shoulders, eyeing the two of them. “I guess this is as good a time as any to tell you. We had some good times, Merle, and I hope you aren’t crushed or anything. I don’t want to hurt you. But, well, Christine and I decided to give it another try. We’re getting back together. And not just for the kids although I did miss them a lot.”
Crushed? Was he kidding?
“Good news,” Pascal said flatly.
“Yes,” Merle said. “Good luck, James.”
“She came to France for me. Must be something about France and, what do you call it, l’amour?” He smiled, pleased with himself, then squinted at Merle. “You’re not angry or —”
“No,” Pascal said. “She’s not. She’s happy for you. We both are. Very happy.”
They watched James walk away, hands in his pockets. “It seems I reconciled a marriage,” Merle said, pulling him close. “Or was it you?”
“It all worked out very well, blackbird,” he said, kissing her. “Au revoir, King James, et bon débarras.”
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* * *
Earlier, up in the hills, the police had appeared out of the night with flashers blazing to intercept Hector and Milo as they arrived to pick up the dog. Four other Italians including a prominent businessman were nabbed at roadblocks and taken into custody. Mignon, the beagle, emerged a little hoarse from howling but unscathed and was happily returned to her handler. Father Cyril enjoyed a long recovery from smoke inhalation on the island of Sardinia.
Aurore, the truffle dog, was returned to Jean Poutou and his wife amid much fanfare from the neighboring families. Newspapers carried the story of the heartwarming reunion. No one received the reward but not for lack of trying. In the autumn Aurore was sold to an Italian woman, a Signora Bettina Dellapiane, who had inquired about her availability. Monsieur Poutou would only say the price was adequate for a dog of Aurore’s renown.
The rains began in the fall after a very dry summer throughout the Mediterranean. For the vineyards it was too late but for truffles it was just in time. After she found a French-speaking handler Signora Dellapiane had an excellent season with her new dog. She made enough money to lease the prime truffling grounds of her debt-ridden neighbor for next year’s truffle season. Gianluca Gribaudi was otherwise engaged.
James Jeremy Silvers III and his ex-wife Christine got remarried in the autumn. It was a private ceremony. Annie Bennett and Callum Logan announced their engagement in September. No date for the wedding was immediately set.
Gillian Sargent didn’t return to the practice of law at Ward & Baillee. Around the law firm they said she had a nervous breakdown on her trip to Europe. Francie went pale when anyone asked about her so the questions stopped. One of the partners seemed to know all Gillian’s plans except where she now lived. Francie never heard a word. She kept Gillian’s identity a secret. Despite all she’d done, Gillian had helped Merle rescue her. She’d given up the dog to her rightful owners. She wasn’t a criminal. She had a conscience after all. In the fall Francie spent many weekends with Tristan and Merle, working on a plan for a cheese importing business. She stopped writing her blog. For now.
Merle Bennett had serious regrets about leaving the Dordogne again. Before the chaos of the end of the trip the walking tour with her sisters had been lovely. The countryside, the flowers, the wine, the family. They were together, celebrating life and birthdays.
And then there was Pascal. What was she going to do about Pascal?
She closed the house on rue de Poitiers, making arrangements for Josephine Azamar to tend the garden again. She hugged Albert and told him she’d be back. And then, saying goodbye to Pascal at the train station in Bergerac, she cried. Just a few tears.
She asked him to visit her. He whispered ‘Blackbird’ in her ear, and promised.
* * *
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Also by Lise McClendon
I hope you’ve enjoyed this Bennett Sisters Mystery
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Read all the Bennett Sisters novels
Blackbird Fly
The Girl in the Empty Dress
Give Him the Ooh-la-la
The Things We Said Today
The Frenchman
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About the Author
Lise McClendon is the author of fifteen novels of crime and suspense. Her bestselling Bennett Sisters Mysteries is now in its fifth installment. When not writing about foreign lands and delicious food and dastardly criminals, Lise lives in Montana with her husband. She enjoys fly fishing, hiking, picking raspberries in the summer, and cross-country skiing in the winter. She has served on the national boards of directors of Mystery Writers of America and the International Association of Crime Writers/North America, as well as the faculty of the Jackson Hole Writers Conference. She loves to hear from readers.
For more information visit
lisemcclendon.com
Also available from Thalia Press
by Lise McClendon
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The Bluejay Shaman
Painted Truth
Nordic Nights
Blue Wolf
One O'clock Jump
Sweet and Lowdown
All Your Pretty Dreams
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as Rory Tate
Jump Cut
PLAN X
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Lise McClendon, Bennett Sisters Mystery, Volumes 1-2
