Blame It On Paris

CHAPTER SEVEN

THERE WAS NO GETTING around fast anywhere in Orly. It was one of those discombobulated, crazy airports where you walked miles to get nowhere, stood in lines that never ended, had your nerves and temper frayed before you even started.

On the other hand. Will thought, he'd gotten her here. His plan for the whole last day had been just this. To keep both of them running a hundred miles an hour so she wouldn't have a chance to cry, to get upset and emotional, before they had to split up.

Both of them looked like wrecks. No sleep at all. But she looked like a cute wreck, with her flyaway hair and whisker-burned cheeks and lopsided sweater. He was standing with her through the initial check-in procedure, which was going-naturally-slower than molasses.

And that was when-instead of doing the emotional thing he'd been trying to avoid-she did the nosy, prying thing.

He almost wished she'd have cried instead.

There were still six passengers ahead when she started. "Will… you know, if I'm stuck straightening out this impossible relationship or nonrelationship with my father. I think you should feel stuck working out something with your father, too."

When he'd fallen insanely in love with her. he'd forgotten that part-the part where she opened emotional doors without knocking and talked in completely feminine sentences. "One plus one does not equal Q, Kelly. Your issues with your father are a universe different than the issues I've got with mine."

She moved up a spot, but her gaze was on him. not on the line. "Actually, they're really similar. They're both impossible situations. They're both our fathers. And our unresolved issues with them have defined who we are. And…"

"And what?" He was getting miffed.

"And if you decide to mend fences with your dad, then you'd have to come home to South Bend."

But he couldn't go home.

Suddenly it was her turn in the line, and then she had to go through security, past the gates where he couldn't go.

He kissed her, long and hard and hopelessly. She walked backward, as if she wanted every last second of looking at his face that she could have. And when she was hustled through the last gates, out of sight, he searched for a waiting area with windows where he could watch her plane take off.

The spring morning was still misty and damp. Rude travelers jostled for spots at the window and he just jostled back, watching until the plane turned into a bird, then disappeared in the sky altogether.

He couldn't go home, he repeated to himself. But the sudden hole in his gut felt like nothing in the known universe could fill it.

There was nothing really new about that hole. He already knew he'd fallen in love with her. In love, like he'd never been in love. Love, like he'd never known love. A woman…like no other woman.

Bleary-eyed, zombie tired, he battled his way through the crowd toward the exit.

People think they fall in love in Paris every spring, he told himself firmly. It was a fantasy. It didn't mean it was real.

It was just…Paris.

And spring.

And her unforgettable brown eyes.

He put his hands in his pockets and stalked outside, trying to remember where he'd parked the car. The late-night mist had turned into a steady morning drizzle that soaked his head and blurred his vision. His thoughts were just as dark.

He couldn't go back to South Bend. Kelly didn't know, couldn't know, how bad it was for him there. It wasn't an option.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

WHEN KELLY CLIMBED off the plane in South Bend, the clock claimed it was two in the afternoon, but Paris time would be nine at night…and since she hadn't slept on either of the flights home, her body didn't know what time of day or night it was.

While she waited for her luggage, her stomach kept lurching and her head refused to stop pounding-possibly because her body was so mixed up, but more probably because being home felt like landing on an alien planet.

She was supposed to be Kelly Nicole Rochard. Or she assumed she'd feel like herself when she got home again. The impossible, crazy, wonderful love affair with Will should have felt like a distant dream, a fantasy.

This was supposed to be her real life. Right?

A young woman with spiked red hair hurled through the doors near baggage claim and shrieked when she saw her. "Kelly! I'm so glad you asked me to come! You look wonderful!"

Kelly figured she actually looked what she was, tired and crumbling from the inside out. But Brenna, the girl Friday in the office, was an ideal chauffeur for this venture.

Originally Kelly had thought to have her mother to pick her up, but she'd changed that plan. She needed to talk to her mom, soon and seriously, but not yet. Her first crisis had to be a confrontational talk with Jason, come hell or high water, sick or not sick, tired or not tired. And Brenna was perfect company, first because she was thrilled to have the excuse to get out of the office, and second, because she was impossibly easy to be with.

Skinny as a rail, tottering on four-inch heels, Brenna yanked all Kelly's luggage away from her. wrapped her hands around a fresh chai and chattered the whole drive. How was Paris? Were the men hot? Did Kelly hate not being able to eat American food? How scary it must have been, to get mugged and lose her passport. She'd been missed; her desk was heaped to the ceiling, and no one could calm down Myrna in a snit the way she could. Myrna could be getting a divorce. Everyone knew her husband was fooling around. Sam had got a new dog. He'd brought it in to the office one day and it had peed all over the place.

"Do you want me to come in and help you unpack?" she asked at the apartment, looking hopeful.

"Thanks. Brenna, but I can take it from here. I can't thank you enough for picking me up. I owe you a dinner. And I'll see you at the office tomorrow."

Brenna looked crestfallen at not being able to cop more time out of the office, but her expression brightened almost immediately. "You're probably hot for the reunion with Jason, huh? You two lovebirds haven't seen each other in two weeks now! I'll bet you can hardly stand it!"

"Hmm," Kelly said.

And then there she was. Alone, standing in front of the apartment. The place was just a few miles from the Notre Dame campus, and a mile from the infamous shopping on Grape Road. It was one of those typical complexes for young professionals. Most of the occupants were single, a few married, but nobody had kids yet. The place could get pretty rowdy on a Friday night, but midafternoon, like now, there was barely a car in sight except for her white Saturn, sitting, dusty, in the spot next to Jason's.

She lugged her gear up the walk, turned the key and pushed open the door. Her heart sank lower than sludge when she let herself inside.

The only sound in the place was a ticking clock, a clock she'd bought herself two months ago, on sale. It had been Jason's apartment before hers. She'd moved in because there came a point where it seemed ridiculous not to. He'd given her the ring. They'd been sleeping together. Their families and friends had been expecting the marriage announcement for years-probably close to a decade. It just didn't make sense to pay two separate rents when they were consolidating what they had together.

She swallowed hard, looking at everything that should have been familiar, but it was as if she were wearing glasses with a tint. Nothing looked the same.

The red couch was hers, the leather recliner his. The plasma TV and terrific sound system, his. The two museum prints on the far wall, the vacuum cleaner, the massive pot of shamrocks-dead, she noted, from lack of watering-hers.

The place was small, just a living room with an el for a dining table, a kitchen, two small bedrooms. A pretty patio led out to a long, glossy lawn area, though. And the living room got a ton of light. They'd bought the bookshelves together. The splashy rug under the TV.

She wandered into the kitchen, the one room that was almost entirely her doing. She'd chosen the dishes and decor in a flurry of nesting, picked out blue-and-white china, a French-looking pattern, which struck her as ironic now. The blue goblets still wore their price tags. She'd been planning on putting blue-and-white tile behind the porcelain sink herself, planned on throwing out Jason's decrepit college silverware and choosing her own pattern, something they could register for as a wedding gift. And she desperately wanted copper pots, knew perfectly well how insanely expensive they were, but she loved them so much, and thought…

All her musings suddenly seemed light-years past. Kelly sank against the counter in the kitchen, remembering the plans she'd had only a short few weeks ago, and felt a sharp, raw pain in her throat.

It was almost two hours later when she heard the front door open. The sound made her jump. By that time she was back in the main bedroom, mainlining her third mug of coffee, filling a suitcase full of shoes. There were already two suitcases and various bags stuffed in her car. Clothes, not furniture. Toiletries, nothing that was mutually bought or used. She'd emptied the bathroom and the bedroom, but only of her own personal things.

"Hey, Kelly-"

Jason's familiar voice jolted her a second time, but then there was a sudden silence. She squeezed her eyes closed. Jason, being Jason, had likely figured things out a millisecond after walking in.

She found him in the kitchen. He'd put two glasses-mismatched-on the table, was fumbling in the cupboard over the fridge. When he turned around, he had a dusty bottle of whisky in his hand, left over from at least the Christmas before. When he saw her, his shoulders were already slumped, his eyes flat as dull coins.

"Somehow I figured your homecoming would work out a little differently," he said.

"So did I." A thousand memories stood between them. She'd known him from first grade, gone trick-or-treating with him at Halloween, hurled on him in fifth grade, gone to proms and movies and football games with him. His parents loved her. She adored them. He looked like a younger version of his dad, soft dark hair, bright dark eyes, good-looking in a quiet way. What killed her. though, was knowing that she loved him. Had always loved him. Probably always would love him.

The way she'd love a brother.

How come it had taken her so long to figure it out? And man, it hurt to hurt him.

He watched the play of emotion on her face, in her posture, and said, "Whatever it is, we can fix it, Kelly."

She said softly. "No. We can't. I only wish. I wish from my heart."

"That's bullshit. You haven't even told me what the trouble is."

Jason never had much of a temper, but she saw it now, the control of it, in a flash of his dark eyes.

He splashed the liquor in both glasses, drank his, and then refilled his glass. "You met some guy in Paris, is that it? You screwed around?"

"That's not it."

"Come on, I've known you forever-that has to be it. You left here two weeks ago ready to marry me. We set up the apartment to live together, be together. Our families were part of it. It's what we've been working for, waiting for, since we were riding our two-wheelers around the block, for God's sake. You never said anything before this, so don't waste your time lying to me. It has to be another guy."

"No. Not in the sense you mean," she said quietly, and saw another flash of anger in his eyes, so sharp it made her flinch.

She suddenly saw their history together as one-sided. Jason had always pursued her. Always made sure he was in the same room, same corner, same place-always there, before another guy could walk into the picture. He'd been patient and kind and loving. But relentless. He'd always been that sure he wanted her, sure they belonged together.

He threw back the second shot of Jim Beam. "It'd be insane to throw it all away. We've been part of each other's lives forever."

"I know."

"I know every flaw you've got, inside and out. I'm still here. I know what you look like with the flu. I know your moods."

"I know, Jason," she said quietly.

"Your mother loves my mother. My family all love you. Everyone in the old neighborhood, the schools we went to, everything-they're all part of this. Part of us. You wouldn't just be hurting me by breaking up. You'd be hurting a ton of people, all the people who are part of our lives. And for what? I hope to God you've got a damned good reason." He snapped, "You couldn't have a good enough reason."

She took a breath, and tried to speak. Couldn't find her voice. He had every right to yell, to be angry. To try to reason with her. To be hurt.

She had every reason to feel guilt and anguish over hurting someone who'd been nothing but good to her.

Worse yet, she looked at him and still loved him. The way she'd always loved him. She wasn't just losing a fiancé out of this mess. She was losing her oldest friend.

"You know what?" He tipped back his glass again, his gaze boring into hers. "I'll go out right now. Go hit some bars. Find a woman, screw her. Then we'd be even. So if it's just about that, some short-term cheating, I think it sucks, but we can get past it. I know we can get past it."

Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

She was the one at fault for this, so she wasn't about to let herself play the tears card. And she ignored his suggestion about the mutual cheating-it was so like him to want a nice, tidy way to fix things. Only what was wrong with her and Jason wasn't about Will, and it wasn't about anything that could be fixed. "Jason." she said gently. "I'll love you until the day I die. But not the way you want to be loved. In the long run, there's no way in the universe it could have worked for us, because I'm just not the woman you think I am. The woman you want me to be."

"That's my call. You think I never realized your feelings aren't as strong as mine?"

"They never were," she agreed softly. "That's exactly the problem. I never realized it before. We were always pushed to be a pair. Our families always wanted us together. We had aunts planning our wedding when we were in middle school. You never looked at anyone else."

"Because I knew it was you from the time we were kids!"

"And I tried to be-I wanted to be-your other half. I wanted to be as in love as you were. I wanted to feel like you did…" She could see in his face how much she was hurting him. It sucked. Trying to explain was only making it worse. Every word she said made him feel more unloved.

After a while, though, he lost the crushed look and thankfully started getting mad. What did she expect to do with the apartment? All their mutual stuff? Had she told her mother? His? What was she going to say? What were they supposed to tell everyone?

"I'm moving out," she said. "It was your place first. You can have everything. I'm only packing up my clothes and personal stuff."

"Well, that's just more shit. You knew you were going to do this without even talking to me?"

The scene deteriorated further after that. He called her selfish. Stupid. She was making an impulsive decision that involved the rest of their lives, and she hadn't thought it through. She'd had a momentary change of heart, a panic attack, which was normal for everybody, but no, she had to turn it into a god-awful, hurtful, life-altering event for both of them, and for what? "Haven't I been there for you? You've got a decent guy who loves you, who's always stood by you-that'd be me-and you're throwing me away like I was nothing?"

When he left, he slammed the door so hard her ears popped. She sank onto the couch, with her hands shaking and her eyes stinging hard.

Okay, she thought, but of course, nothing was remotely okay. Her stomach lurched. She sprang to her feet and barely made it into the bathroom before hurling.

Somewhere in the packed bags was her toothbrush and toothpaste, but she had no idea where.

She leaned over the bathroom sink and splashed cold water into her mouth and squeezed her eyes closed. Her head was pounding so hard she could hardly think. She hadn't slept in more than twenty-four hours, had no idea when she'd last had a meal. She had no idea where she was going to sleep, no plan for a place to live, now had to tell her mother and everyone else about the broken engagement and had to confront her mother about her father, as well…

A sudden picture of Will popped into her mind. His smile. The way he'd taken charge after the mugging. The way he'd spun into her life, pulling her into a dance of love and life and laughter and passion. His face. His eyes. The shape and texture and heat of his mouth on hers.

She sucked in a breath.

Banished the memories, the picture.

Paris was a fantasy. She might as well steel herself to reality, because there was every chance she'd never see Will again.

Still, it mattered. What he'd taught her about emotion and love-and herself. Without Will, she'd never have figured out what really mattered to her. She'd have settled for something that didn't.

In the meantime, though, she had a whole life to tear up. So far, it seemed to be going as pleasantly as a train wreck.

TWO MORNINGS LATER, Kelly was pacing inside the door at the Olive Garden when her mom walked in.

She quit chewing on a nail and breathed in. She'd called her mother before this, obviously, to let her know she was home safe and sound. But this was their first face-to-face meeting. Kelly had chosen her mom's favorite lunch haunt, given herself a couple days to gear up for this major powwow and told herself that a public place was the ideal spot for this meeting. It was the only way they'd both have a shot at keeping the discussion quiet and relatively unemotional. They'd have to stay rational in public.

But Kelly wasn't positive she could approach this rationally, no matter what. She felt roughed up and ruffled before she even got here.

Char flew in the door, eyes zooming across the lobby until she spotted her. In an instant, Kelly was smothered in a boisterously warm hug and kiss.

"God, I've missed you. Maybe you were only gone for a couple weeks, but I worried so much about how that mugging affected you. And I just missed talking to you. And my heavens, you look so different. A little shorter hairstyle? Very French. But you've lost weight, sweetheart, and you really could use a few pounds. Gaynelle and I went shopping again and found our dresses, did I tell you? We both picked out peach. Hers is fussier, naturally, you know how she likes her ruffles and frills. But that's the thing, the dresses are so different that I don't think it matters if they're a similar color-"

"Mom, I need to get this said right off. There isn't going to be any wed-"

"Oh, honey. That blue top looks fantastic on you. Did you get it in Paris?" Her mother was dressed for a typical high-powered real-estate day, a spring-lavender suit with matching heels, her blond hair worn simple and sleek, in a long, smooth comma that framed her face.

All Kelly's life, she had thought her mother was outstandingly beautiful. Still did. Actually, she'd always felt like an ugly duckling next to her mom, which was pretty stupid, considering her mom didn't have a vain bone in her body and had never done anything but praise her only daughter to the high hills and back.

"Mom." Kelly tried to interrupt the soliloquy again, but even when the waitress led them to a table in the back rooms, even when Char swiftly ordered for both of them-it was easier that way, always prevented a world war and a two-hour discussion- Kelly had a hard time breaking in.

"You don't look any the worse for wear. A little tired and a little thinner. But otherwise… well, I can see that something's different. Besides the blue top. I talked to Jason's dad when I dropped off Gaynelle. He said he hadn't talked to Jason in a couple of days, but I think everybody was trying to give you two a little space, knowing you were fresh back and hadn't seen each other in a while." Her mom smiled mischievously, then zoomed on. "It's killing me. Thinking of what I want to give you for the wedding. I know, money is all kids want today. But I'd really like to give you two something seriously-"

"Mom, the wedding's off."

"-unique. It's not about expense. It's about something seriously personal-" Abruptly, Char snapped her fingers. "Darn it. I forgot to tell you! Your aunts want to have a shower. We know, we know, you haven't set a date for sure beyond sometime close to next Christmas, but that's just the point. It takes time to find the right place and get it reserved, and especially around the holidays, things get booked fast. We're thinking about a couples' shower, because it's so much more fun. So in the evening. And-"

"Mom-"

"What, dear?"

"Jason and I broke up. There won't be a wedding. I'm not living in the apartment anymore."

"What?" Her mom had just dipped into the bread basket by then, had a knife with a pat of butter all ready. Her smile and vivacity suspended as if suddenly frozen.

"I called it off," Kelly said quietly.

"You can't mean it." The bread dropped back to the plate. So did the butter. "You can't. Everyone knows. People have already started buying gifts. You've already moved in with him, bought all that stuff for the apartment yourself, were setting everything up so beautifully…"

"Mom-"

Her mom leaped to a conclusion. "Did he do something?" In a flurry she changed gears, turned into mother lioness. "I would have thought better of Jason, but you were gone for a couple weeks, honey. If he went out drinking, or ran up some bills or-"

"No. He didn't do anything like that. He didn't do anything wrong at all. I'm the one who moved out." Kelly took a breath. "And there's another thing I have to tell you that's going to be just as hard, so let's get it all done at once. When I was in Paris. I met someone."

Her mother swallowed hard. "Well, I have to admit, that's about the last thing in the universe I thought you were going to say. It's so totally unlike you, but, honey-"

"I met my father. The father you always claimed was dead."

Her mom started to respond, then went silent as stone.

A baby started crying from a nearby child seat. A couple teenagers took the far table by the window, were whispering to each other with gooey eyes. A trio of businessmen in a close booth kept glancing at her mother-they were eating, doing their business, but they obviously appreciated a good-looking woman. As always. Char didn't notice.

"You met your father," she echoed, in a fainter voice.

"Yeah. I did."

Her mom shut her eyes for a moment, then seemed to gather herself, find some starch to put in her shoulders. "Well…damn. That subject is going to take a very long, very private conversation."

"Yes, it is," Kelly agreed, in the same painful, soft tone.

Char hesitated. Both of them seemed aware how special their relationship had always been…and how suddenly precarious. But her mom didn't have a long history of loving her for nothing. Given two bulls, she took the one by the horns that she thought was more important. "We'll talk about your father. But not now. Kelly, please. I can see you're upset, but that is the past. And right now, the really immediate crisis is you and Jason. It's about whatever happened in Paris that made you come back so…different. You and Jason were completely happy before you left on that crazy fool trip."

"Mom, could you try and listen?"

"Of course I will."

Kelly doubted she would or could. Her mom's face was flushing from the neck up, a sure sign she was upset. And when Char was seriously upset, all she wanted to do was act and order and fix, not listen.

Since Kelly had the same flaw, she understood it perfectly. "I don't know how to explain this well. But Jason always…surrounded me. The closer we came to setting a formal date, the more I felt as if I were facing a sentence in a cage."

"Don't you think that's a little drastic metaphor?"

"No. I think it's exactly how it was. Jas was always great to me. Always seemed to love me. Always chose me. But, Mom, he always hovered so tightly that I never had a chance to look at anyone else. Test anyone else. Even to test me. And everyone we knew was always so happy about us. Always labeled us a couple…"

"And this is terrible how?"

"Not terrible. But it was what Jason wanted. Not what I wanted. And I went along, because there wasn't anything specific that I wanted differently. But I started to feel more and more trapped. That's why I went to Paris to begin with. To be alone. To get a better feel for who I was-"

"Kelly Nicole Rochard, that sounds like the kind of crap coming all too much out of your generation. Psychobabble. An excuse for being irresponsible and selfish."

"That's not fair," Kelly said unhappily. "Come on. When have I ever been irresponsible?"

"You'll disappoint everyone. Your aunts, your cousins. All his family, who are crazy about you, for heaven's sake. The priest-have you at least counseled with Father Donovan before you make such a wildly impulsive decision? You're ruining everything without thinking it all through."

"I believe I have thought it through."

"Good men aren't easy to find. Kelly Nicole. You should know that from my life. You don't just throw one away because you get a whim about 'finding yourself." Oh." Her mother tossed down the white napkin. "Frankly, I'm too upset to eat. Or talk. You know perfectly well I'm on your side no matter what you do, anytime or anywhere, but I would like to believe you'll come to your senses about this. I want to think before talking together again. And I want you to think. So we can both have a conversation without shouting at each other."

The baby across the way quit crying. The child's mother, the gooey-eyed couple, the businessmen, all looked at her when Char stood up and hustled for the door, a flash of emotional tears glistening in her eyes. The strangers stared at Kelly as if she must have done something hurtful and awful, as if she were an ogre who should be shot.

Well, Kelly thought desperately, I seem to be batting a thousand.

Everyone was furious with her.