Tristan Trilogy- Story 3

CHAPTER 30

“I see you’re all packed up, Tris. You going somewhere?”

Kevin was slipping on his sandals when he cast another glimpse at the open suitcase. Tristan’s brush stopped halfway through a stroke as she looked at Kevin through the reflection in the dresser mirror. He was waiting for her answer.

“I.. I booked a flight to Orlando…. through Miami.” she replied. Then she added, “It leaves at five…”

“I see.” Kevin nodded. “Why did you do that?”

Tristan studied her hairbrush as if she had never seen it before. Her thumb moved over the bristles in a random pattern as Kevin waited patiently. She strongly suspected that he already knew why she had made arrangements to leave.

“I thought I should go - especially under the circumstances….”

“Circumstances?”

He’s going to make me say it.. “Yes, Kevin. I thought you had gone. I thought you were mad…” Tristan began to examine her brush again. “You left me.”

“I did go.” Kevin assented. “I was mad. I was more than mad. I was crazy. But I never left you. I…”

A light tapping on the door interrupted Kevin's confession. He cursed in frustration and stepped across the carpet to answer the knock and angrily jerked the door open. He needed a little time alone with Tristan. When he saw Amanda standing there, he became thoroughly pissed and started unzipping his jeans.

“Here ‘ya go, Amanda! You come back to take a look at the tattoos?”

Amanda had spent several minutes trying to work up the courage to invade Kevin’s space once again and didn’t appreciate his attitude. She decided to throw it back at him. Now she was pissed, too.

“To hell with the tattoos, Kev! I came back for ‘full frontal’, since you’re packing something so special and all….” She hollered over Kevin’s shoulder to Tristan. “You don’t mind, do ‘ya Tris?” She didn’t wait for Tristan to answer. “No - I didn’t think so!” she hollered again. “Come on, boy! Whip it out! Should I move out of the way?”

“God dammit, Amanda - you are so crude!”

“And you are so rude!”

Kevin backed off. He knew he wouldn’t win any battles with Amanda. Messing with her was like tangling with an angry porcupine.

“Okay, okay.. you’re right. I apologize.”

Amanda held her hand over her heart and stumbled backwards. “What? What did you say, Kevin? I’m sure I didn’t hear you right!”

“Don’t push your luck…” Kevin hissed.

Amanda laughed good-naturedly and handed Kevin a small piece of paper.

“I forgot to give this to you earlier. It’s just an arrival time. A Madame Marcel called this morning from Paris. She said that when she came to work this morning, her employer had left her a message for her to call you a little later and let you know that he’d be coming after all. He’s taking a cab from the airport and has a flight back out at two.”

Kevin looked at his watch and then at the paper. It was almost eleven. He should be here by noon.

“Thank you, Amanda..” Kevin said absently as he calculated time allotments in his head.

“You’re wel…”

Amanda was cut off as the door closed gently in her face.

Kevin stepped up behind Tristan and wrapped his arms around her.

"Now, where were we?" he asked, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"You were saying that you were mad but that you didn't leave me…"

"Oh, yeah…" Kevin closed his eyes and nuzzled her hair for a moment. "Come 'ere."

Kevin went to his jacket and pulled something out. Then, taking her by the arm, he guided her back to the bed where he leaned over to plump up the pillows before flopping down to sit against the headboard. He patted the empty space beside him - her signal to sit. She did so hesitantly. Tristan found it difficult to relax, even when she felt Kevin's arm drape itself around her shoulders.

"Okay, Tris… I was mad. I am mad… "

"About Jerald?"

"About a lot of things, but yes, I'd have to say that my brother is at the top of the list right now."

"But…"

"Shhh.. Let me finish. Jerald is…shall we say… attracted to you. I'm not sure when this started, but I think it's been building for a long time. Others noticed it before I became aware of it."

"Who?" Tristan frowned, pulling herself from Kevin's embrace. "Who's been saying this?"

"Easy, baby.." Kevin cooed and pushed her back down against his shoulder. "Nobody has discussed this with me. I just know from other things - hindsight, mostly. It doesn't matter and I'm not going to name names. I'm trying real hard to be fair right now. I'm trying not to blame Jerald for wanting you. Hell, I want you…"

"You have me…"

"I know that, darlin'. What I'm blaming Jerald for is taking advantage of my job - of my being away from you - to help him fulfill whatever this fantasy of his is. Let's face it, Tris. He's seen a hell of a lot more of you than me in the last six months and those pictures don't lie.."

Tristan began to get upset. "Nothing happened between us, Kevin! God!"

Kevin pulled her around so that she was facing him and held her by her shoulders. His voice was calm but his eyes were hard. "I'm not saying anything did happen. What I am saying is that he would like for something to happen. Are you gonna sit here and deny that to me, Tris? I see his face in those pictures. They aren't innocent snapshots that you'd put in a family photo album…"

Tristan's voice quivered as she asked her question. "What are you going to do?"

Kevin released her then and settled her back against his shoulder.

"I'm not going to do anything, Tris, except keep my eyes open. Jerald's my brother and I love him but he's crossing a deep line, here. I can't let him do that. You're the one who's going to do something, Tris - or I should say not do something…"

"What are you talking about, Kevin?"

"You're not going to be alone with him again - ever. Until I'm convinced he's gotten this out of his system, you're not to be anywhere near him unless someone else is there, preferably me. I hope you understand what I'm saying…."

"It sounds like you're saying that you don't trust us together…"

"No, baby…" Kevin pressed his lips against her head but the kiss he left behind seemed to carry more warning than affection. "What I'm saying is that, right now, I don't trust him… I love my brother enough to do what I can to keep him from making a grave mistake." Kevin played with a strand of Tristan's hair as his voice took on a disturbing flatness. "Why, I don't know what I would do if I ever found out that he had touched you or made a pass at you. I just don't know, Tristan…"

Tristan raised her eyes. Kevin still played with her hair in silence but his eyes were closed now, as if he were deeply locked in thought. His apparent serenity was not suited to the discussion and on some level, this bothered Tristan. Kevin's eyes opened slowly and he turned his face down to hers, smiling gently.

"Sorry… I was lost there, for a moment. He pulled his arm from around her and picked up the envelope that he had laid beside him. "Now we need to talk about this…" he said as he handed her the letter from Etienne Foushee.

The sight of the gray envelope in Kevin's hand caused Tristan to tremble. She shrank back for a moment before taking the letter from him and then gazed at the elegant handwriting on the front of the envelope, written in black. The stamp was French. When she pulled the rich rag paper from it's enclosure, a wallet size photograph fell onto her lap. Tristan eyes filled quickly as she ran her finger over the portrait of Rebekah Sebastian.

"Mommy…" she whispered.

Her voice was so plaintive that it was all Kevin could do not to cry along with her. He had heard Tristan refer to his mother as his 'Mom', but that was about as familiar as her references to a female parent ever became. Usually she used the word 'mother' - never 'mama'. When Kevin heard her call the woman in the portrait 'Mommy' in such a desolate manner, he felt that his heart would break. A small smile tickled her lips through her tears as if she had been physically reunited with Rebekah.

"I look like her, don't I, Kevin?" she said softly.

"Yes, baby… You do.."

Tristan turned the photograph over and read her mother's note to Etienne. She looked puzzled and studied the writing for several moments.

"Who is this Etienne?" she asked.

"Read the letter, Tris…."

Tristan nodded, opened the pages and began to read.

Dear Ms. Mallory,

My name is Etienne Foushee and I have been an admirer of yours for quite some time. Longer than you can imagine, in fact. Although your talent on the piano is quite extraordinary and has given me many hours of pleasure, the fact is that we met when you were a very little girl.

I knew your mother, Rebekah, quite well. We met when she played in Paris many years ago. I am still a cellist with the city's symphony. Rebekah was a wonderful and supremely talented woman, as I'm sure you are. I don't know how much you remember about your mother as you were quite young when she passed away. I would have liked to keep up with you after her death, but circumstances made that an impossibility. Then, when I saw your picture in 'Classical Review', my heart almost stopped. I believed, for a moment, that I was looking at a photograph of Rebekah. I hesitate to enclose the picture of your mother because her inscription might cause you some pain. That is not my intention. I loved your mother very much. I will not burden you with details which may be upsetting to you but if you would ever like to talk with me about Rebekah, it would be my profound pleasure to do so.

Yours very truly,

Etienne Pierre Foushee

Tristan looked confused for a moment as her eyes darted back and forth between the picture of her mother and the letter from Monsieur Fouchee.

"My mother had a lover?"

"Would you like to talk to him, Tristan?"

The question rattled Tristan. She refolded the letter and tried to slide it back into its envelope. She couldn't seem to make it fit.

"I..I don't know… I.."

"I spoke to him yesterday, Tristan. He's a nice man. Your father won't talk about your mother. Mr. Fouchee will.."

"You… you spoke to him?" Tristan asked in disbelief. "When? How?…"

Kevin took her hands and clasped them tightly.

"When I left Copenhagen, I flew to Paris."

Kevin held her gaze until a glimmer of understanding reached her eyes.

"You went to see Etienne Fouchee…"

Kevin nodded. "I had the letter. I know that it belonged to you - that it was personal - but I had to see this man. I had to make sure he wasn't out to hurt you. Do you understand?"

Tristan didn't respond at first. Then she nodded slowly.

"I think you might want to speak to him, darlin'. He doesn't want to hurt you." Then Kevin dropped his bomb. "He should be here any minute, but if you don't want to see him, I'll take care of it."

They hadn't heard the bell, Etienne Fouchee had already arrived. When Jack called through the door with the announcement, Kevin's grip on Tristan's hand tightened. He glanced at the door and then back to her face.

"It's up to you, Tris.."

Tristan's body began to rock. "Will you stay with me?"

"I think you need to speak to him alone…"

Tristan closed her eyes, forcing fresh tears down her cheeks.

"Okay.." she whispered. "If you think it'll be all right…"

Kevin nodded and kissed her cheek.

"Let me go down and speak to him for a moment and then I'll send him up…"

*****

Despite the group's curiosity. Kevin had only described Mr. Foushee as a friend of Tristan's mother. Only he and Mason knew the real depth of their relationship - he, Mason and whomever had stolen the letter and sent the picture of Rebekah to 'Reputations'. He glanced continuously up the stairs, hoping that things were going well. Etienne Fouchee had been with Tristan for almost an hour. It was almost time for him to catch his plane back to Paris.

During Kevin's visit with Mr. Fouchee, he had gained some insight into the strained dynamic that had pervaded Tristan's youth. Rebekah Sebastian had just begun her career when she married Arthur Mallory. Her talent was propelling her towards fame. His skills were doing the same for him. Arthur Mallory was a selfish man who liked to be the center of attention. It would never do to have two stars in one family. Those days were a strange time for women. They were at the cusp of major cultural change. Men and women still had specific roles to play and there was little overlap. The women's movement was just getting under way and women found themselves caught in a battle between safe traditionalism and rebellious self fulfillment. It was, frankly, a lousy time to get married. Rebekah Sebastian had wanted both worlds and Edward, having already decided that she would be his, had promised her professional support as well as romantic love. Then he proceeded to get her pregnant right away. He thwarted every attempt she made to hang on to her career and fed her guilt about her feminine failures every chance he got. The educated liberal that she thought he was didn't exist. He expected a wife to be like his mother was - part servant, part maid, part lover, part parent. Despite his selfishness, Rebekah's reputation continued to grow. Wishing to appear sophisticated, he allowed Rebekah limited freedom as far as her musical opportunities went. After their second son was born, Rebekah became seriously depressed and anxiety ridden. She loved her children but her affection for her husband had diminished significantly. Then, one fateful summer, he allowed her to accept an engagement with the Paris Symphony. She would be away from home for two weeks. It was during those two weeks that she met and fell in love with Etienne Fouchee, a shy, soft spoken and gentle cellist.

Their affair continued for many years, though meeting was usually a problem. Edward had become tyrannical in his expectations of her and had insisted that her music was nothing more that a snobbish hobby. Her growing depression was not helped by the birth of a third son. To most of the outside world, she was the beautiful and talented Mrs. Edward Mallory, MD., mother of three sons who were being raised to become like their father. She was admired by many for her sacrifice and duty to her family, for her homemaking skills and her talent as a hostess. Rebekah Sebastian had all but disappeared. She had become a tool and a toy for a man she had grown to despise. Throughout it all, she had the love and passion of Etienne. He wanted her. He wanted her children. He wanted to be her sunshine and rain. He wanted to watch her grow and blossom again.

Rebekah did the unthinkable. She filed for divorce. The decision hadn't been difficult but the process was. It took her a long time to find an attorney to take her case. By the time she did, she was pregnant with Tristan. Edward had found that the best way to control his wife was to keep her physically and emotionally bankrupt and his preferred method was pregnancy. He had decided that he wanted a house full of sons and Rebekah would give them to him. When Tristan came along, he was disappointed. When he was served with the divorce papers soon after her birth, his disappointment turned to hostility. He became convinced that his wife had taken a lover who was paying her legal fees. He was right. Etienne Fouchee was determined to rescue the love of his life. They communicated mostly by letters and the occasional phone call when Edward was away.

The divorce was going to be a long and drawn out affair. Edward's legal team maneuvered the process to his advantage and threatened Rebekah with accusations of adultery and unfitness as a parent. Still, Etienne was there for her as well as he could be. Then one day, Edward got the idea to stop having mail delivered to his home and opened up a post office box. He would keep the only key. When Rebekah protested, he laughed at her. She was trapped. When she attempted to open her own box, the postmaster refused, citing that all boxes were in use. She knew that this postal employee had been paid off. Soon Etienne and Rebekah's love affair became one sided. She could get letters out but was unable to receive any. Edward confiscated all mail addressed to her.

Kevin had asked why Etienne had not just come and taken Rebekah since his own career brought him to the States on occasion. He had managed to see her a few times after Tristan was born when, under the guise of pediatrician's appointments, they had met clandestinely. He had made plans to do just what Kevin had said but timing couldn't have been worse for when Edward discovered who Etienne was and stopped his letters, he also managed to invalidate his green card and have him declared an undesirable by the government. Edward had done well to nurture friends in high places. Etienne couldn't get near her. Edward even had their phone number changed and a recording device put in place in case Rebekah decided to disobey his orders about outgoing phone calls.

Etienne prayed that she would hold on a little longer until he could straighten this mess out, but Rebekah has lost her strength to fight. She had sent Etienne the portrait when she had managed to locate another, more assertive attorney. She still had hope then. They both did. Tristan was five and a half by that time and her mother was teaching her to say a few words in French. Eight months later, Rebekah Sebastian Mallory had died from self-inflicted wounds to her wrists. She was thirty-four years old. Etienne learned of her death through a friend who subscribed to the Washington Post. By the time he learned of it, she had been dead for two weeks. Her remains had been cremated. He supposed that Rebekah just couldn't hold on any longer. Their love affair had lasted for nine years. Etienne had never married but had often wondered about the only child of Rebekah's he had ever seen. Even those visits had been few and far between. He guessed that he had only met Tristan four or five times. She was too young to remember him.

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