The road home allowed me time to think about what was in the letter from Claudine. My mind wandered over the possibilities and whether or not what she had to say would clear up anything for me. After another day of stopping and starting and doing our flea market shopping, we finally arrived safely home late one evening. We took the time to unpack all of our luggage and the various treasures that were picked up along the trail. I had the envelopes safely stowed in a plastic bag with my purchases from Sandy. I was quite tired from all the driving and the hot, steamy weather that we traveled through that day. As I got into bed, I made my plans for what I would do to have the privacy to read and discover what I might from Claudine.
The next day, I had my plans all set. There was a small lake near our house, where I would often go to spend time trying to land a few fish. The fish were secondary to me, it was more about the time alone to just sit and think and forget about life for a little while. I always planned to catch a couple big bass, but usually ended up with a couple small blue gills.
“Annie, I think I am going to take it easy today, I am going to head over to Veronica Lake and do a little quiet fishing.”
Annie looked at me in surprise. “I would think that you would just want to relax around the house, after all that driving that you did. But, if that is something that will be relaxing for you, go ahead. Just let me know what time to expect you back.”
I told her that I would only be gone for a few hours. I got my rod and tackle box, my cooler too, then loaded it all into the car, not forgetting my bag with the letters. Soon I was on my way to the lake and maybe final resolution or at least some answers to my many questions. I arrived at my usual spot. There were a few boats out on the lake, but it was not very crowded, so I was able to find a secluded spot down the shore where I could put my chair out and toss my line into the water. Then I could relax and start reading whatever it was that Claudine had to tell me.
I pulled out the smaller envelope first. As I was instructed, I would read this letter first. I wondered what was the reason for that, but I guess I would find that out now. I pulled out my pocket knife and slit open the envelope. I was surprised to see that the letter was typewritten. I guess she must have written this letter before she left. It looked like it was typed on a typewriter, not printed out from a computer page. Maybe it was her old school girl typewriter. Interesting. I started to read:
Hello Pete,
Since you are reading this, I am glad that I am able to tell you now a little about what has happened in the recent months after we last met. Excuse this old typewriter and paper, but I have had this machine since my days in Paris, it is a bit of a connection to those days. I know that it must seem strange that I am sharing all these private details of my life with a veritable stranger. As I said before, when you stopped and bought my Paris book and showed interest in what I said about about my life there, I felt that you were someone I could share my story with. Also, as time went by, you had a few small mannerisms that made me think of Patrice. Funny I guess.
So why did I not share all this with my friends at home or my family? Well, I went off to college for a little more than four years. When I came home, many of my old school friends had already started a new life. We had little in common. Also, I didn’t allow the grass to grow under my feet, I was in a hurry to go to France for my next adventure. So I said goodbye to my parents and I was off again. I wrote home often, but I never mentioned anything about Patrice to them, as I didn’t want to speak of it, until I was sure that we might have a future together, and I didn’t want my parents to worry that I might not come home again if I married a Frenchman. As you know, Patrice left me for Algeria and while I was waiting for him, I had to come home when my mother was sick. Arriving home only after she had died, and then trying to help my father with his grief and his now neglected hardware stare, there was no time for talking of my problems. So time went on and the months became years with no one to share my thoughts and dreams, sadness and wished for happiness. I felt I needed to help my father and keep everything together for him. That was my duty. Then my father died and that was it. I was older and much of life had passed me by. It is hard to believe that you were the first opportunity that I had to share all of this with with someone. If you showed no interest, it was not a risk for me, as you were a stranger. I would not see you again and I was no worse off than I was before we met. Now that we have gotten that out of the way. I assume that you do want to know what happened and where I have gone. This past spring I received a letter from France.
I had little to no communication with anyone from Paris in quite awhile. The letter was from one of my old students, Mireille. If you remember, she was a cousin of Patrice. She still had my address after all these years, or she might have gotten it from someone in Patrice’s family? I don’t know, but I was pleased to hear from her. I just wondered why she was writing me again after all this time. I never even thought that it might have anything to do with Patrice. But it did! What a shock!
Mireille told me that she had been at a family dinner with some of her cousins. After dinner they were enjoying some wine and dealing in mostly small talk, catching up on stories of her aunts and other cousins. She then found herself sitting with her cousin Beatrice who then whispered to her, that she might have news of her uncle Patrice and his father! Beatrice was the daughter of Patrice’s youngest sister.
She knew that Mireille was a former student of mine, and that I had been romantically involved with Patrice. So she thought that this news must be shared. She said that a few months previously, it must have been during the summer holidays, that her family had gone to the country to spend a few weeks. While they were in this small village, they always attended Mass on Sunday. After one Mass, they stopped and spoke with the priest. He was an older man, and was dressed as a monk. Even with the hot weather, he still wore a long, heavy robe with a hood. They assumed he must belong to a religious order. As they talked, he asked their name and where they were from. When they told him that their family name was Laperriere, the priest hesitated and looked at them. He asked if they ever had family that lived in Algeria at any time. They were unsure if they could trust the priest, as the last days of French Algeria did not end well. Those that stayed to end were not spoken about these days. Some had been considered outlaws or worse. But, so much time had passed, they decided it would be no harm, so they confirmed that it was so, they had family that lived there for some time. The priest then told them, that he might have news of some relatives of theirs. There was an old man, who was a brother in his same religious order that had recently joined their community. He had lived many years in a monastery in Algeria. Then he had to leave Algeria, and for the past number of years he was back in France living at a religious house. This house closed down recently, so he had come to live with them here to spend his remaining days. This man had already shared a number of stories with the priest, including one that may be of some interest to Beatrice and her family. The name Laperriere was prominent in his conversations.
So Pete, it was with this limited information here that I decided I needed to go back to Paris and see and hear for myself what this news would be. Was it about Patrice, or maybe about his father? Or just someone else with that name, but it was the first tiny bit of news that I have had in so many years. Good or bad, I could not rely on letters or third hand accounts, I needed to go back and go to this church and speak to this monk in person. If I delayed, who knows? The old fellow may die or go somewhere else. I was able to call on the telephone and spoke with Mireille and let her know that I was going to be arriving in short order. I would like to speak with Beatrice and see what she knew from speaking with this monk. After that I would have to travel down to this village and this church and speak with this religious brother. So, I am on my way. When I have more information and am able to write back, I plan to send another letter with more news. Hopefully it will be before you come back into town. I will send it in care of Sandy, and then she will give it to you. I will ask her to be sure that you read this letter first before you read anything else from me. At least this explains my departure and whereabouts.
Until that time, all my best regards to you
Claudine
This was certainly big news for Claudine. Maybe it would finally provide her with answers about Patrice and what may have happened. I hope that it will not be just a dead end or a wasted trip over some fragments of gossip or mistaken identity. Her whole life up to this moment was filled with this uncertainty of her past. It was now some months since she left. Maybe this second envelope would have the answers that she was looking for. Thinking back on this, I wondered how this one, simple stop to buy a book, something that I was not even sure that would be of much interest to me. That book would lead me to get involved in this woman’s life, her sharing an afternoon with me in a hazy, beautiful trip into her younger days and learning of the story of her lost love, waiting for someone who would only be alive in her memories. It was a tragic story with just a brief interlude of happiness so many years ago.
I doubted if it would have a happily ever after ending, but at least for her it might provide some kind of final closure? The other envelope was sitting in the bag under my feet. I wanted to know what it contained, but I needed to stop and take a few minutes before I could read it. I decided to take a cold beer out of my cooler and eat part of my sandwich. This second envelope may be a wonderful ending to this magical tale, or it might be something of great sorrow and sadness, or would it be possible of something in between that? Here I was sitting on banks of a lovely river, on a bright and sunny day, and maybe getting ready to read something that I might not want to know. I was hoping for something positive or even more. I just didn’t want this unexpected journey in my life to end an on a note of broken dreams and bitter ending. I could just put it aside and hope that maybe I would hear of some more news about this. I had left my name and address with Sandy and asked her to write me if she had more news of Claudine or if Claudine returned home, she could even write directly to me. I knew that this was not what I needed to do. I had to stop the procrastination and pick up the envelope and find out what Claudine had to tell me about what she found. In the bright sunlight, the envelope seemed to be glowing up at me.
copyright @2023
You are leaving your readers hanging??
Let’s get that 2nd envelope opened up asap.
Inquiring minds want to know, and so does Pete!