Page 51 of Forgiving Paris
And for their two bucket list items that—after today—could finally be checked off.
LANDON HAD LOOKEDforward to this meal.
Alice had told him she’d made reservations at the exact address of the boulangerie where she and Ashley had worked. In the twenty-three years since then, someone had obviously renovated the place. Now it was a vibey café with bright windows and shiplap wooden walls. They met at a corner table and introductions were made. Marie Michel was a carbon copy of her daughter, older but pleasant and pretty, with kind brown eyes.
They ordered pastries, croissants, and chicken salad—the house specialty according to the waitress. Jessie and Gabriel wouldn’t join them today, and Landon was grateful for the time alone with Marie and Alice. He had a feeling that after today, Ashley would have yet another reason to know the truth.
Paris hadn’t been all bad.
Alice clearly wanted her mother to tell her side of the story, what it was like having a daughter addicted to heroin and how she had felt when Alice came home.
Landon kept his eyes on Ashley. She had found her laugh in the last few days. Gone were the worry lines on her forehead and the concern in her eyes. It should’ve been the same for Landon. Typically, if Ashley was happy, he was happy.
But he caught himself checking the door, staring out the windows and looking for strange men who might be following them.Ridiculous,he told himself. Two decadeslater? The people in the Pierre camp would’ve forgotten about Ashley by now.It’s the dream,he told himself.That’s what this is about.
He took a deep breath and settled in next to Ashley. Enough of that. Marie was about to tell her story.
Landon didn’t want to miss a word.
18
Marie Michel rarely revisited the heartbreak of Alice’s lost years. Most days it seemed like that time had never happened. Like Alice had gone from being the charming middle school girl to the lovely young woman she was today.
Without any break in between.
But it did happen, and now she would share that time again with their new friends—Ashley and Landon Blake. Marie steadied herself.
“I told my mère how I wouldn’t be alive today if it wasn’t for you, Ashley.” Alice looked into Marie’s eyes. “I thought together we could tell the rest of the story.”
“Oui.” Marie had no words to adequately thank Ashley for the impact she’d made on Alice. But maybe telling the story would help. “I remember that afternoon, the day Alice came home. She… she knocked on the door and just waited. Skin and bones, dressed in rags. But her belly… I could see she was with child.”
“My heart was pounding out of my chest.” Alice’s smile faded. “Every time I thought about coming home I told myself ma mère would turn me away. That she hated me for what I’d done to her.”
Marie gave Alice a gentle squeeze. “That was never true, of course.” She faced her daughter. “I took Alice in my arms before I said a single word. And we stood there.” She removed her arm from Alice and faced her. “We just stood there on the front step, both of us crying.”
Across the table, Ashley nodded. “It was that way for my family, too. When I came home from Paris.”
There was a break in the conversation as their food arrived. When the waitress was gone again, Ashley looked at Marie. “What was that like, having her gone for so many years? Not knowing if she was okay?”
“It was hell.” Marie shrugged slightly. “I apologize for the word. But it is the only one that fits that time in my life.”
Hurt flashed in Alice’s eyes. “I’ll always be sorry for that, Mère.”
“I know, baby girl.” Marie gave her daughter a sad smile. Then she turned to Ashley again. “I had to change the locks.” In some ways, those days felt like yesterday. “The police said that way she’d have no money to buy drugs.”
Alice folded her arms. “Of course it didn’t work that way. I found the drugs. On the street, there’s always a way to find them.”
“Exactly. As you know… my girl was living under an overpass. She overdosed and nearly died.” Marie’s heart stuck in her throat for a minute. “When she woke up in the hospital, she learned she was pregnant. I didn’t know about any of that.”
“I wasn’t on drugs, but my family must’ve felt that way about me, too.” Ashley’s voice was tender.
Marie smiled at the American. “Most nights when I couldn’t sleep, I would slip across my bedroom floor and find our photo album, the one I kept in my dresser drawer.” She paused. “Pictures of my daughter through the good years. Before she found heroin. There are many tears on that book.”
Marie explained that after Alice returned, there was no looking back. “I loved her then, I loved her still. All I wanted was to help her.”
Across from Marie, Ashley nodded. “My mom and dad felt the same way.”
“It’s a parent’s job. To love our children, no matter what. When Alice returned, she wanted help.” This wasn’t a time to cry, but the story would never be easy. “God answered my prayers.”
