“A sign?” Jacques commented, his voice bordering on concern. “What do you mean?”
Ben froze.
Two arms snaked around his shoulders, a pair of cold, wet lips brushing his ear. Soleil’s breathing hitched and labored as she croaked his name over and over again.
Ben! Please, Ben! It hurts…it hurts.
“I don’t know…but it’s something.”
“That’s deeply unhelpful.”
Ben shrugged, but Soleil remained, her embrace tightening. Just tell me what you want, he thought. Tell me what you want, or just leave me alone.
But just as she started to speak again, the door of the bordello burst open. The ruckus caused Ben and half of the occupants to jump to their feet. It was enough to dispel him of her grip, and just like that, the nightmare was gone. In its place was a red-nosed youth in tattered clothing with wide, reddened eyes. He took a moment to catch his breath before finally calling out, “I’ve got an important message to deliver! For Benoît Leone!”
Ben’s own eyes widened as every head in the bordello turned toward him.
“Who’s asking?” Jacques shuffled ahead.
“I have a letter for him, monsieur.” The boy sniffed. “I was told he would be here.”
“I am.” Ben stepped beside his companion. “What’s this all about?”
“A message for you.” The young boy produced a small envelope. “Urgent news.”
Ben recognized the penmanship, and his stomach dropped. His nightmare came back in a rush. The last words she’d spoken from crusted, decaying lips just before she faded into the dark corners of his mind.
“Come home,” she’d said. “Come home!”
His palms, slick with sweat, stretched at his sides.
Absently, he reached into a pocket and produced a single coin. The boy took the payment and left the letter in Ben’s care, racing back into the dewy morning. Distracted, Ben walked to one of the more well-lit corners of the salon and collapsed into a seat. Jacques joined him a moment later, patient yet inquisitive.
“Are you going to open it?”
Ben licked his lips. The last letter he’d received from home was a wedding invitation, and before that? A letter that still stung to remember. Both came from the same sender. He might have ripped it open with vigor, hungry for another reason to burn with hate, but its arrival was ominous. In his heart, he felt its message was more important than the anger he might have felt toward the person who sent it.
Wordlessly, he broke the seal and pulled from it the familiar stationery.
Dearest Benoît,
I hope you will forgive me, as I did not wish to write to you under these circumstances, and yet fate has forced my hand. I am writing to express to you my deepest sorrow: your father has passed.
I can only imagine what you must be feeling, for I am beside myself with grief as well.
His funeral arrangements are already underway. Your presence is requested—please come home.
With love,
Remi A. Leone
Seeing her name pulled at a once-dead cord inside of him. Her words were different than before. They lacked emotion, somehow. Had her marriage been as awful as he’d silently hoped? He shook his head. He didn’t like the way his mind wondered if she still held some kind of fondness for him, even though he had rebuked her.
“What is it?” Jacques asked.
Ben brushed his thumb over her signature. “My father died.”
“When?”
“This was posted two days ago.” Ben handed the envelope to Jacques and rubbed a hand over his face to the back of his neck, finally feeling tired again. “I’ve been summoned.”
A long silence followed. The static of the background filled in the cracks as they formed. Laughter, jeering, and glasses clinking as drinks were poured. The merriment for those sodden souls around them would end in a few short hours; for Ben, they ended the moment he’d read her words.
Finally, Jacques spoke. “I’ll fetch a carriage and arrange for an early departure.”
“I’ll meet you at the docks in an hour.” Ben sighed and buried his head into the palms of his hands.
“Make it two.” Jacques countered, clapping Ben’s shoulder. “I take it this will be a long trip, and I must say farewell. After all, I have unfinished business with Farine.”
“You have two hours,” Ben said.
Jacques left without another word. Ben sat down at the bar again, setting the letter on its polished surface. He pushed his hair back and blew out a deep breath. He would need to return to his relatives and give them the news. The thought of that conversation sent an unpleasant shiver down his spine. They were cold people, his father’s family, and he was sure they wouldn’t care. Still, the thought bothered him more than he would have liked.
He was still my father, Ben thought. He ached at the memory of the man who used to sneak him extra scones after tea, the man who used to sneak him to the beach during his lessons to skip rocks and wade barefoot in the cool summer water. That was who his father had been before tragedy attached itself to their family like a parasite. Father was never the same after his mother passed. Ben understood that grief, but with his sister, it was different. When she died, he’d been cast out and sent away to live with strangers. He was spared nothing, not even an explanation. Now, there was only the weight of the mystery his father left behind.
Ben smacked the bar, a glass sliding into his waiting grasp a moment later. He tipped it back, drinking it down with a hiss. One for the man I knew.
He signaled for another and held it to his lips. And another for the man I never did.
