BRIDGES OF TIME

CHAPTER NINE

Paris-1880

He suddenly wanted to be someplace else, anyplace but here. Funny, hearing the stories from his father had always been exciting but sitting in the mission where his parents had married, and where his mother had almost lost her life affected him in more ways than he thought possible. He didn’t know if he could do this. The sound of a voices broke through his thoughts and he watched as the lissome auburn-haired woman before him talked quietly to the old beggar who had come into the mission before him. She handed him a small stack of clean clothes along with a voucher for some food. Watching her minister to the old gentleman gave Nicholas Javert two amazing reactions, both of them settling into the pit of his stomach. He longed to go up to her and ask her out, but he also desperately wanted to slink away unnoticed. Neither, however, was an option. He had work to do.

The auburn haired woman walked the old man to the door of the mission and hugged his rounded shoulders before he left. She watched him until he was out of sight before she closed the door. Nicholas could tell how much it cost her to let the old man leave.

When her gaze swept across the room toward him, Nicholas felt his stomach clench. He slid a little lower in the pew, hoping she’d decide to help one of the others who had wandered into the old church before getting around to him. He dropped his head back against the wall, and, with his eyes closed, prayed fervently for the first time in months. Please God, don’t let her notice me yet.

He’d been assigned to investigate a charge by an anonymous informant who’d said a ring of thieves specializing in stolen religious icons was operating from inside the neighborhood mission and that members of the aristocratic Delacroix family were involved. For Nicholas, this was hard to believe for he had known Claude Delacroix for most of his life and while he did not like him very much, he did not think he was a crook. Now, he wasn’t sure what to think, and Nicholas hated feeling unsure. Could one of the aristocracy really be pretending to serve the poorest people of the city for illegal monetary gains? Watching Rene Delacroix, who he understood was part of that family, gave him cause to believe that his information was not entirely true. But since his own informant claimed that the thefts belonged on the doorstep of the Delacroix family and some of his own people in the department. Nicholas hadn’t wanted to believe fellow officers might be working both sides of the law for profit so he’d accepted the job to go undercover and prove the accusations to be false ones.

Taking a deep breath, Nicholas prayed again. Lord, I don’t want do to do this. I don’t want to be here. Please give me wisdom, and protect the innocents.

“Are you all right, sir? Do you need a doctor?”

Rene Delacroix’s soft voice penetrated Nicholas’s silent petition. He opened his eyes to find her standing in front of him, concern etched on her pretty face. He stood to show respect, and she hurriedly stepped back, leaving him embarrassed. He knew he looked like the scum of the earth.

“I was just--ah...I’m Nicko...er Nick Jantot,” he said, and then stuck out his hand to shake hers. Realizing that he had almost made a grievous error by telling her his real name he started to retract his hand, but he felt her press her hand into his.

“Welcome to the Sacre Coeur Mission,” she said, her gentle brown eyes staring up into his. He found the tranquility of her gaze so disquieting that he looked down and focused on her beautifully shaped hand engulfed in his. Nicholas wished again to disappear. His hands and face were filthy, purposely dirtied as part of the setup. He was clean as a Sunday suit under his clothes, but an observer would never guess.

“Sorry,” he muttered, dropping her hand and stuffing his into the pockets of his tattered pants. There she stood as pristine as one of the mission’s marble statues, while he looked and felt like a complete ragamuffin.

He needed...no longed for a shower and some decent clothes. And a shave! He couldn't even remember his last shave. He’d been living too long on the other side.

“Mr....ah...Jantot did you say? We don’t get many donations for large men such as yourself and I’m not certain we have anything that will fit you but I’d be glad to look...”

“I’m not here for a handout, Miss Delacroix. I thought maybe you’d have something I could do around here to earn a few francs. I’d rather earn my way.”

Her face flushed, taking on the color of her auburn hair.

And at that Nicholas Javert, reputed to be one of the toughest undercover officers in the Paris police department, felt himself blush like a schoolboy.

“Oh,” she said with the hint of a smile. For Nicholas, that smile was like watching the sun come out from behind a black cloud.

“You know,” she said, “We’ve been wanting to get someone in here to fix up a few things.” Would you be interested?”

Nicholas looked down at the worn out toes of his dirty boots hoping his face wouldn’t betray him, He hated lying to her but her offer meant his assignment was on its way.

“I’m pretty good at fixing things.” Reluctantly he forced himself to look into her clear brown eyes, and guilt seared him. Lying to people was the most difficult part of his job and somehow lying to her made him feel worse than he ever had.

“Great,” she said. “I’ll walk you down to the office and you can sign up.” She gestured toward a door down a long hall off the big main room.

“Before you sign on, there are some rules you need to know about and agree to abide by.”

“I don’t mind a few rules.”

“My rules are simple but absolute. Break one and you are out. No second chances. That may seem a bit harsh but the mission has a good reputation and I intend for it to stay that way. It is very important that anyone working here abides by them. Rule one…everyone works. Rule two…no alcohol. Rule three…no, well…” her cheeks reddened, “no indiscreet behavior.”

Nicholas stifled a grin.

“I assure you sir, I am not joking,” she said, her voice quavering.

“I didn’t think you were, Ma’am.” Nicholas said, raking a hand through his long hair. “That was a smile of pure relief. It’ll be nice not to have to deal with drunks and thugs. That can get very tiresome out on the streets.”

“Good, I’m glad you understand me. Now if you don’t have a place to stay would you consider staying in the mission? I’d feel much better if someone was here at night. There have been some threats against us in the past few weeks and the police say there is little they can do to protect us.”

Nicholas’ gray eyes went dark. “What kind of threats? And who is us?”

“I’m known to be something of a trouble maker in the neighborhood.” She smiled. “Which doesn’t bother me in the least, but I worry about the rest of the people here and, well, I’d hoped the local police would help but they have been most uncooperative.”

“I don’t understand. Are you saying they refused to help the mission?”

“No, I’m saying they are not cooperating, nothing more.”

“What about the threats? What was said about them?”

“They say they can’t do anything, as I told you. Now if someone were hurt, they said they could step in and do something but thankfully that has not yet happened.”

“Did they not suggest putting someone in the mission to investigate this problem?”

Rene stared uneasily at Nicholas for a few seconds. He was really asking too many questions, and how did he know so much about police work? But then she dismissed the thought as being ridiculous and paranoid. “That’s why I want to have someone here who can be a witness if anything happens. I don’t expect anyone to be a hero or fight them, just go for the police and tell them what happened…if something should occur.

“Okay, I’ve got it. Nothing heroic. Just run for the police and let some thug do whatever he wants until they get here.” His tone was calm, but his eyes glittered with anger. “Not likely, Miss Delacroix. I may not look like much of a gentleman, but my mother did not raise me to stand by and watch innocent people get harmed.”

“I meant no offense. I just wanted to keep you free of our problems.”

Nicholas nodded. “No offense taken. But I wanted you know that if I stay here you will be safer. I won’t turn the other cheek, or stand by and let someone get hurt.”

How unusual that he was so forthright and strong, she thought. Most of the homeless people she had seen seemed beaten down by their circumstances, yet he appears to lack all the negative earmarks of men in his position. Very strange indeed. “Now, about where you’ll sleep. The old room once used for servants’ quarters is filled with bits and pieces of broken furniture and crockery but I can help you clear it out and put in a bed and dresser we have in the storeroom. It’s not much but it’ll at least give you some privacy.

“I’ll clear it out myself. You must have more important things to do. You shouldn’t be wasting time doing my new job.”

Rene paused, and then put her hand out to shake his and close the deal. She could see he was embarrassed to touch her because he was so dirty but she insisted. “There are some cleaning supplies in that room as well. You should have enough to make it livable.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. If I don’t get back before you’ve finished, the men’s bath is on the second floor to the left of the stairs. Towels and soap are just inside on the shelf.” Put the towels and your dirty clothes in the laundry basket under the stairs and they will get washed.”

Nicholas left with a small smile on his face. Rene wondered why his smile seemed so beatific. And she wondered again why he appeared so strong, despite his life on the streets. He was really nothing like the men who usually came in, hooked on drugs or liquor. What problem was big enough to keep a man like that on the street? She frowned. What had brought him to the Sacre Coeur Mission?

Enough, she said to herself, she had work to do and no time to stand around and mooning about this stranger, no matter how intriguing he was. She called the next person who was waiting and got busy.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Nicholas straightened and stretched his back that was protesting the heavy lifting he had been doing. Hands on his hips, he surveyed his day’s work. Not bad he thought, not bad at all. Exhaustion weighed him down as he noticed that darkness had fallen outside the small window and he felt weary, washed out, and worn down.

But it had been worth it. It felt good to toil over something and see results. The room didn’t look half bad, either. He gave into a yawn that widened until his jaws creaked. He was dead tired. He sank onto the braided rug he’d rolled out earlier and sighed. He would bathe later. For a few minutes he’d close his eyes and sleep...just a few…minutes…

“Mr. Jantot”, Rene whispered from the doorway, but the new handyman didn’t move. The sun slanted in the open window, sending a shaft of light that bathed him in its golden glow. Even in sleep he was something spectacular. She called his name again, a bit more loudly but still she got no response. He must have slept there all night she thought. Perhaps she had worked him too hard yesterday. Although he looked healthy his appearance might be deceiving. Maybe he was ill and hiding it. “Nick,” she called, more loudly, and stepped into the room.

Nicholas was up in seconds, crouched and ready, for what she could not imagine. His movements catlike and powerful filled her with a strange thrill. The sunlight glittered in his stormy gray eyes. He looked dangerous and hard. Rene jumped back, her heart pounding.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I was afraid you might be sick, you were so still.”

“It’s okay,” he said as he stood up and ran his hands through his thick dark hair.

“I should not have startled you like that.”

“You didn’t. I wake up like that sometimes. It isn’t your fault. It’s too many years on the street. You have to wake up fast and ready for anything. I’m sorry I scared you. Did you need me for something?”

“No…I just noticed the furniture was still in the hall and came to see if there was a problem.”

“The problem is that I fell asleep on the job. I’m sorry, I won’t let it happen again.”

“You were still working at eleven o’clock last night, Mr. Jantot. You are not required to work 24 hours a day.”

“Nick. Please call me Nick. Mr. Jantot is so…well it sounds like my father.”

Rene nodded. “Nick. If you fell asleep on the job it was from exhaustion. I think you should forget moving the furniture and go on up and have a bath.”

Nick reddened. “I guess I’m pretty …pungent to be around. Sorry.”

Her smile was sheepish. “No, that’s not what I meant, but a bath would make you feel better.” She turned to leave before she hurt him again, but stopped and turned back to face him. “I almost forgot. I did find some larger men’s clothing in our donation box. I took the liberty of placing a few things that might fit you in the drawers of the dresser. I hope you like them.”

Nick watched her rush from the room, and seconds later heard a crash. He stuck his head out in time to see the old iron bed that Rene had found for him falling to the floor. She made a valiant effort to control the situation, but it was beyond her. With a self-deprecating laugh, she stood in the midst of the destruction. “Oops”, she said shrugging her shoulders.

“I’ll get it. Don’t try to…”

But he spoke too late. She had leaned the bed rail against the wall where it had been and started to lift the cord of the brass floor lamp. When Rene pulled the cord, she bumped into the mattress causing it to sag into the dresser that started it to rock. Nick threw his body into the mattress but he was too late. The falling mattress landed on the dresser and it hit the iron bed rail causing it to fall and hit Nick on the head. Then it hooked into the shoulder of his shirt and ripped it leaving him shirtless just as Rene disappeared under the mattress. Silence followed the avalanche of furniture and bodies.

Then Nick heard a surprising, unladylike snicker from under the flowered mattress. A giggle rose to follow it. Then loud laughter erupted from under the offending load of stuffing.

“Are you all right?” he asked. He lifted up the mattress and thought better of it. “Don’t move, don’t help. Just stay where you are and let me take care of this. Okay?”

She laughed harder, and Nick felt a chuckle of his own rise to the surface. He was laughing as hard as she was by the time he’d stood the mattress up and righted the dresser. Tears rolled down his face, and he leaned against the wall and held his now sore stomach. Then he realized that she as staring at him. No, not at him, but at his chest. He glanced down and understood. She was staring at the angry red scar from the bullet he’d taken two months earlier when he’d tried to pull his partner to safety. He searched for a way to explain it without lying. Rene moved closer to him. She traced the scar with her cool fingers that nearly unnerved him. "You were shot,” she said, her eyes wide. “Who shot you?”

“I got caught in a burglary gone bad. The thief started shooting and I got caught in between him and the police. t happens sometimes, things are rough on the outside.”

She bent closer to examine the scar and he could smell the fresh scent of her hair. He buried a groan when she touched the red welt again. “Did I hurt you?” she asked softly.

“No,” he said, not trusting himself to say anything more.

“Don’t you have any family to care for you?” she asked, her hand lying against his broad chest.

Nick thought of his Mother who could heal a rainy day with the skill she possessed and steeled himself to lie. “No, I have no family, no one to care about or me about them.”

“I’m sorry,” she said moving away from him. “I’m just trying to understand why you chose to live like you do.”

“Some of us do not have a choice about how we live. Why do you live the way you do?” he snapped back.

Nick didn’t wait for an answer, but stalked down the hall, through the kitchen and outside-angrier with himself than at Rene. It wasn’t her fault he was there. His Captain should have let him take a long vacation. He could have visited his family who were summering in the south of France. Instead, he’d recuperated from his injuries for six weeks and had then been given this assignment.

Outside, he sat down on the back steps that looked out over the courtyard. A few young children were playing with rusted metal hoops, rolling them across the stones and laughing. A man walked in the gate and stood for a time watching them. He wore all black and looked as unwashed as Nick had been the day before. The children stopped their game and moved to the corner of the yard.

Nick decided to act.

When the older man saw Nick coming he turned to leave, then hesitated, watching Nick, clearly undecided as to what his next action should be. He settled for leaning on the gate and looking tough which did not impress Nick in the least. He knew the type. “What’s your business here?” Nick asked, his manner curt.

The man looked him up and down. “Who wants to know?”

“I do,” Nick answered.

“And you are?” the man asked.

“The nosey kind.” Nick stared back at him, his eyes hard.

“I thought I might find someone with something to sell,” the man said, averting his eyes.

“Oh yeah? What kind of something.” Nick asked.

“Oh, anything they might find lying about the place. Something that might be of value.”

Nick narrowed his eyes and grabbed the man up close by his dirty shirt collar. “I might have something to sell and I might not but I don’t do business with double nobodies,” he snarled. “I’ve got a good thing here. Free room and board, and maybe something extra on the side if you know what I mean. So if you want to deal we deal away from here. You got it?”

The old man was beginning to panic and was trying to pry Nick’s fingers loose from his shirt. Nick let go and he almost fell backing away. “We’ll get in touch,” he rasped, hurrying towards the gate.

“You do that,” Nick said, a hard smile thinning his lips.

After a while he returned to the building to move the furniture, but found the hall empty. Someone had moved all of it into the room and put curtains up on the window. Even the bed was made up. It made the room feel like home and his heart ached for his own place. He missed it.

Rene Delacroix was a mystery. Just when he thought he knew her she surprised him with her kindness. The clothes she set in the drawer for him were indeed his size. He remembered the knapsack he’d left under the bench in the main room of the mission. He’d stuffed another pair of torn trousers and a shirt in it. She must have checked the sizes and acquired these clothes for him.

His eyes blurred. He didn’t need this. Visions of Alexandre’s death still kept him awake at night, and memories of holding his wife as she died in his arms still woke him up in a cold sweat…whenever he managed to get some sleep. He didn’t want these feeling for another person. He hadn’t been looking for anyone…so why did have to happen to him now?

to be continued....

© 2003 Rose Carr

Contact the author:  Rosematuse@aol.com

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