The Brutal Telling
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“That’s my sweater, isn’t it?”
“Come off it, Olivier. Do you really think you and the duck wear the same size?”
“Not now, but when I was a kid. Where’re my baby clothes?”
Now Gabri was silent, damning Ruth for parading Rosa in her new wardrobe. Well, maybe not so new.
“I thought it was time to get rid of them,” said Gabri. “Ruth needed sweaters and things for Rosa to keep her warm in the fall and winter and I thought of your baby clothes. What were you saving them for anyway? They were just taking up space in the basement.”
“How much space could they take up?” Olivier demanded, feeling himself breaking apart inside, his reserve crumbling. “How could you?” he snarled at Gabri, who leaned away, shocked.
“But you’d talked about getting rid of them yourself.”
“Me, me. Me getting rid of them. Not you. You had no right.”
“I’m sorry, I had no idea they meant that much to you.”
“Well they do. Now what am I going to do?”
Olivier watched as Rosa waddled behind Ruth, who muttered away to the duck, saying God knew what. And Olivier felt tears sting his eyes, and a swell of emotion erupt from his throat. He couldn’t very well take the clothes back. Not now. They were gone. Gone forever.
“Do you want me to get them back?” asked Gabri, taking Olivier’s hand.
Olivier shook his head. Not even sure why he felt so strongly. He had so much else to worry about. And it was true, he’d thought about getting rid of the box of old baby clothes. The only reasons he hadn’t were laziness, and not being sure who to give them to.
Why not Rosa? A distant honking was heard in the sky and both Rosa and Ruth lifted their heads. Overhead a formation of ducks headed south.
Sadness washed over Olivier. Gone. It was all gone. Everything.
For weeks and weeks the villagers journeyed through the forests. At first the young man hurried them along looking behind him now and then. He regretted telling his family and friends to leave with him. He could have been much farther away without the old men and women, and the children. But as the weeks went by and peaceful day followed peaceful day, he began to worry less and was even grateful for the company.
It was twilight, only the twilight never died. Night never fell completely. He wasn’t sure if any of the others noticed. It was, after all, just a small glow in the distance. At the horizon. The next day the sun rose, but not completely. There was a darkness to the sky. But again, just at the horizon. As though a shadow had spilled over from the other side.
The young man knew then.
He clutched his parcel tighter and hurried everyone along, rushing forward. Driving them onward. They were willing to hurry. After all, immortality, youth, happiness awaited. They were almost giddy with joy. And in that joy he hid.
At night the light grew in the sky. And during the day the shadow stretched toward them.
“Is that it?” his elderly aunt asked eagerly, as they crested a hill. “Are we there?”
In front of them was water. Nothing but water.
And behind them the shadow lengthened.
TWENTY-FIVE
“Olivier?”
The blond head was bowed, studying the receipts of the day so far. It was getting on for lunch and the bistro was filled with the aroma of garlic and herbs and roast chicken.
Olivier had seen them coming, had heard them even. That shriek as though the forest itself was crying out. They’d emerged from the woods on their ATVs and parked at the old Hadley house. Much of the village stopped what it was doing to watch as Chief Inspector Gamache and Inspector Beauvoir walked into the village. They were deep in conversation and no one disturbed them. Olivier had turned away then, walking further into his bistro and behind the bar. Around him the young waiters set tables while Havoc Parra wrote specials on the board.
The door opened and Olivier turned his back. Claiming every last moment.
“Olivier?” said the Chief Inspector. “We need to talk. In private, please.”
Olivier turned and smiled, as though if he ingratiated himself enough they might not do this thing. The Chief Inspector smiled back, but it never reached his thoughtful eyes. Leading them into the back room that overlooked the Rivière Bella Bella Olivier indicated the chairs at the dining table and sat himself.
“How can I help?”
His heart thudded in his chest and his hands were cold and numb. He could no longer feel his extremities, and dots danced before his eyes. He struggled for breath and felt light-headed.