Sins of Omission. Fern Michaels
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why. No one had ever taken such an instant dislike to her before, Reuben made her feel that she was infringing. But on what and on whom?
The tall American was her aunt’s lover, she was sure now. Just the thought of the good-looking man in her aunt’s bed made her angry. She was so…so old, almost as old as her father, who was at least fifty. Sixteen-year-old logic questioned her aunt’s right to take a young lover.
For the first time since getting into the Citroën, Bebe looked out the window. All she saw was trees and fall desolation. Her stomach churned as the car bounced over ruts in the road. Where in the name of God did her aunt live? In America she would have called this place the boondocks,
“How much farther is it, Aunt Mickey?”
“Kilometrage? Perhaps…dix,” Mickey said.
“Please, Aunt Mickey, talk to me in English. I know only a few words of French—and before you offer to teach me, let me tell you that I really don’t want to learn. I don’t ever see myself using your language in the future.” She hadn’t meant to sound so surly, but there was no way to retract the words now.
Reuben bit down on his tongue to stop a sharp retort. The girl was after all Mickey’s guest, and it wasn’t his place to chastise her. Maybe he should simply ignore her comments and say something positive…but what? He unclamped his jaw. “You could take a nap if you don’t care for the view. You must be tired after your long trip.” He could sense Mickey smiling next to him. She was pleased with his response. He felt better immediately.
Bebe blinked and flushed a bright pink. She waited a moment to see if Mickey would endorse Reuben’s words. She wished she hadn’t noticed the sly smile on her aunt’s face. He must be smiling, too. She turned to Daniel and spotted a cigarette case peeking from his pocket. “Give me one of those cigarettes,” she said in a choked voice.
Once again Reuben bit down on his lip. Bebe was too young to smoke, but he knew Daniel, gentleman that he was, would not refuse her. He let out his breath with a quiet sigh when Mickey spoke. “Chérie, you are much too young to be smoking. And I’d rather no one smoked in the car…it leaves an odor for days. Would you mind, terribly?” she said, turning in her seat. She smiled to take the sting out of the request.
“No, of course not,” Bebe said reluctantly.
“Sometimes,” Mickey said kindly, “this trip can be very boring, especially if one is driving alone. Today there are four of us, and we should be happy. I’m delighted you are here and hope you will enjoy staying with us. We do have a routine and there are certain rules. I don’t think they’ll pose a problem, but if they do, we can talk about it.”
“What kind of rules?” Bebe asked haughtily. She was being put in her place, an outsider, a visitor. Damn. She risked a glance at the boy sitting next to her, and their eyes met. Daniel smiled and Bebe found herself returning his smile.
“Simple rules. There is the matter of privacy. The use of the bathroom, mealtime. Nothing major, more a show of consideration for others. I don’t anticipate a problem, do you, chérie?”
“Of course,” she said quietly. Not to agree would be ridiculous.
Reuben wanted to turn in his seat and swat the girl, and he didn’t know why. She was going to be a handful as well as an interloper. He stopped the car to allow a farmer leading four cows to cross the road, then pivoted to get a better look at the invader in his life. “Have you ever seen a cow before?” he asked quietly.
Bebe stared into the clearest, grayest eyes she’d ever seen. His jaw, she thought, looked as though it were chiseled from quarry stone. “Wh-what was the question again?”
“I asked you if you’d ever seen a cow. Those four-legged animals are cows the farmer is leading across the road. They give milk.” He thought at that moment that she looked like a frightened bird fresh from its nest instead of the hellcat who had stepped into the car. What could she possibly be frightened of, he wondered.
“No…I me an yes, in…California,” Bebe stammered.
Reuben smiled, a winsome, boyish smile that sent chills up Bebe’s arms. “Those are California cows…these are French cows.”
Mickey fidgeted on her seat. This exchange of conversation was unexpected. Eye contact between a male and a female was all-important, and she wasn’t imagining the heightened awareness the two had of each other. Something was slipping away from her, something she couldn’t grasp. There was friction developing between the two young people, and if there was one thing she didn’t want, it was to be placed in the role of peacemaker. That would only call attention to her age, and she would come out the loser. God, why did this child have to come here now, when things were so perfect? Why couldn’t she have waited until later to visit France? Mickey sighed. It was her own fault: she could have said no to Sol. Now there was nothing any of them could do but be hospitable to the girl.
The rest of the trip was made in silence. When the powerful car drove through the village, Bebe gasped. Reuben smiled. “This is our closest town. I don’t imagine this quaint village is anything like Hollywood, but it’s all we have to offer. You will come to love it as we do.” Reuben smirked. The girl’s gasp had been one of horror—not pleasure. In a pig’s eye she would come to love it. “You’ll get to meet the entire village at Christmas. We’re looking forward to it. It will be a pleasant break from lessons.” A malicious smile tugged at his lips when he heard her mutter, “Bastard!” under her breath.
“Not really.” Daniel grinned. “He’s my best friend and a hell of a nice guy. You have to get to know Reuben; he doesn’t make friends easily.”
Bebe glared at him. “You are, of course, entitled to your opinion. I think he’s a shmuck.”
“What’s a shmuck?” Daniel asked.
Reuben’s eyesight might have been poor, but there was nothing wrong with his hearing, even if Daniel was keeping his voice down. “A shmuck is someone to be pitied or despised. At least she didn’t call me a shlemiel. They’re Yiddish words, Daniel. Unflattering, to say the least, but we can mark them up to Miss Rosen’s fatigue.” Daniel found himself grinning. Miss Rosen’s stay was going to be anything but dull.
“We’re home, chérie. This,” Mickey said, waving her hands about, “is my château. Your father fell in love with it when he was here many years ago. He had to drag your mother away; she wanted to stay forever.”
It was on the tip of Bebe’s tongue to say that wouldn’t happen to her. She’d cut out of this place the first chance she got. And go where? she thought sourly. She’d imagined Christmas would be spent in Paris; Sol had told her Mickey always spent Christmas in Paris. Just another lie from the old man so she would do what he wanted.
Reuben held the door for Bebe as she climbed out. He bowed gallantly, a wicked grin on his face, and she suppressed the urge to kick him. “What about my trunks?” she asked sweetly.
“What about them?”
“Who’s going to bring them up to my room?”
Reuben leaned against the car. “It’s like this, Miss Bebe. Daniel has a bad shoulder. I have a bad leg. Your trunks weigh tons. What I suggest is you unpack in the barn and carry your things upstairs. We can all help.”
“My father said you had servants!” Bebe whined to Mickey.
“At one time I did, and then the war came. Now I have only a cook and a housekeeper.”
Reuben felt his anger rise in defense of Mickey and struggled to keep his tone civil and even. “We all pitch in here. We hope you’ll do the same. What would you like to do first? See your room, freshen up and then take the contents of your trunks upstairs, or vice versa?”
“But it will take at least a hundred trips!” Bebe cried.
“Not that many, chérie, if we all help. Come along and I’ll show you to your room.” Bebe glared at Reuben but followed her aunt meekly.