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    CLJobe
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

ARROW - 239. Chapter 239

The following two chapters were written in Paris by Armand upon his return. This is Part 1

Ronnie took us to the airport. Pierre had to show him where to drive as the company plane was parked at a side airport where all private planes were parked. We got a tour of JFK in the process. Parking, Pierre invited Ronnie to check out the plane. I knew he did this as a way to thank him. I watched as they left accompanied by a stewardess.

Saying goodbye to Ronnie, we boarded the plane. The plane was larger than I expected. There were three rows of seats. The row next to the entry door were single seats and across from those seats were rows of double seats. Colin headed for those seats, taking the seat next to the window. I took the other seat, across from Pierre. The stewardess brought us coffee and said our departure would be in one hour. I looked at Pierre. I didn’t understand why we had to wait.

“Dad, we need to use the same runways as the commercial flights. They take preference over us.”

“I don’t know why but I thought you would have your own runway. When I think about it, it makes sense.”

“Dad, did you understand what the stewardess said?”

“Yes, why? She spoke English.”

Pierre and Colin started to laugh. “Dad, she spoke French.” I looked at him, ” She spoke English.”

“Dad, listen, carefully,” Pierre spoke to her in French. She brought a small tray of sandwiches and refilled our coffee cups.

I started to laugh. She spoke French. The only reason I could think why I said she spoke English, is I mentally switched to French since I knew I would be speaking only French over the next few weeks

“Dad, I have the same problem. It takes a while to mentally switch languages.”

It didn’t seem long after our second cup of coffee and a few small sandwiches that the plane started to move. The stewardess came for our coffee cups and plate of sandwiches. I was a little excited. I had flown many times in large commercial places but this was my first time in a small private plane. I looked Pierre, he offered me half of his peanut. I took it. I don’t know if he was the last of our adopted children but he and David were my favorite. I know it isn’t right to have a favorite. I love all of my children and I would do anything to make sure that they are happy. But David was special. If you listen to him, I saved him from death, Ronnie was his savior. With Pierre, it wasn’t death but in a way he would have never amounted to what he is today without Colin and I. Colin said he was cast upon the sea of life to find his way and would have drowned if Arnaud hadn’t asked us to save him. Colin never said much about our children but he was just as proud of them as I was.

“As soon as we are in the air, I’m going to take a nap. Pierre said these seats laid back making a recliner.” Our stewardess came back, pushed a few buttons and our seats became like a lounge chair. The bottom panel came up so you could use it like a foot rest and the back dropped. You weren’t flat but you were in a very comfortable position to take a nap. She brought blankets for us.

“We will have a light breakfast before we land.”

I looked at Pierre, he was asleep. I was comfortable, Colin was nodding off, I kissed his cheek, and shut my eyes.

The next thing I knew, I was being awakened. “Sleep well, Dad.”

“Yes. Pierre” I hadn’t realized I slept that long. The stewardess pushed the button on my chair and once again I was sitting up. I looked at Pierre. The little devil was laughing. I found the button on Colin’s chair, and pushed it. He popped up.

“What!”

“Coffee time.”

“Where are we?”

“We will be landing soon. Do you want coffee?”

Our stewardess brought us coffee, and a breakfast plate of scrambled egg with fruit. Not much but it was early and I’m sure someone will be hungry when we land.

I took a peanut and shared it with Pierre. He smiled and Colin wanted to know where his was. So I shared a peanut with him.

The landing was neat, short time on the runway. Pierre said the advantage of a plane like this is short take-offs and landing. Like the States, we taxied to a place where private planes were parked. Our stewardess welcomed us to Paris. “As soon as they bring the stairs, we can depart.”

We waited about twenty minutes. From the plane, we watched all of the activity on the ground. We hadn’t noticed the door of the plane being opened except the noise level in the plane increased slightly.

“Dad, Pop welcome to Paris.”

‘It felt good to be back in Paris. This is the first time in several years. Pierre had a taxi for us and in no time we were on our way to Grandmere’s house. I looked for changes as we drove towards the house, if there were any, they were unnoticeable. Arriving at the house, I looked and there was Colin’s angel above the door. For some reason, I felt I was home.

“Dad, Pop, I’ll see you later for breakfast. Have fun.”

“He’s a rascal. Does he think we are in our twenties?”

“Don’t you wish you were in your twenties, just this one time?”

“Yes, but our age I’m just glad to kiss you goodnight and good morning. I’ll dream the rest.”

Laughing we took our luggage to our room.

The bed was made with clean sheets. I was surprised.

“Pierre must have arranged this before he came home. How did he know we would fly back with him?”

“Listen”

“I don’t hear anything.”

“The rocking chair?”

“No”

“Let’s get a few more hours of sleep. You can ask him at breakfast.” I checked my watch, we had 5 hours before breakfast.

I dreamt that this was our first time in Paris together. I chuckled at some of the romantic foolish things we need, Sleeping in the park until a gendarme told us to move on. Sitting on the wall tossing stones into the river, having a gendarme tell that wasn’t allowed and to move on.

I heard someone pounding on our door, I got up, opened the door, and there was Pierre. “Breakfast in 15 minutes.” I watched as he walked away drinking his cup of coffee. Before I closed the door, I heard, “They are up?” Now I wonder who he was talking to.

I turned to wake Colin, then I heard the shower. He remembered the hot water tank never had the capacity to provide two hot showers. So did Colin. So I shaved, using some of his hot water. He was laughing, “Now” we switched. He had enough for his shave but I didn’t. Nothing like a cold shower to wake sleepy cells.

Dressed for the day, we walked into the kitchen holding hands. Pierre looked and started to laugh. There was a woman preparing breakfast, “Pierre, behave yourself.”

“Dad, Pop this is Mere” “It is nice to meet you.”

Smiling she brought us our coffee, followed by fried eggs, sausages, and toast. We waited, and Pierre started to eat. “Dad, what’s wrong?”

“We are missing your Meme.”

“‘Dad, I’m sorry. Meme. come you must eat with us.” She looked at us, and that was when she noticed we hadn’t touched our food. “Meme, they want you to eat with us. We are family.” That was when I offered Pierre half of my peanut. I think when Meme saw that, she smiled and knew what Pierre said about family.

She did join us and we found out how she and Pierre became more than friends.

“My husband and I lived not far from his mother’s cottage. Over time, we became friends. When Pierre was born, I became a closer friend to his mother. When she needed to be away, Pierre was placed in my charge. He knew my home as well as his. When his father returned, he stayed with me. His father didn’t like to be reminded he had a son. As a result, our bond grew. When my husband died, I was alone. Pierre was shipped to relatives, and I only saw him on occasion. But every once in a while I would find a half of a peanut tucked away in what we once called our secret place. Then everything stopped. His home was rented and I never heard anything from him again. One day I decided to go and check on his cottage. I knew it was rented out, everyone in our community knew. When I saw one of the workmen, I asked what they were doing. He said they were renovating it to look like it originally was. The owner was returning and planned on living here. The owner, to me, meant Pierre. I was excited until one of my friends the owner would be anyone who bought the property. I walked by the cottage every day hoping to catch sight of the owner. Then one day, I found half of a peanut on my doorstep. I hurried to the cottage with the peanut, and there was this young man I heard Mere, and I knew Pierre had returned. We spent the weekend catching up. I was so glad to see him. Since then, he has told me about you two and this house. He took me on a tour of Angels and to the family’s mausoleum. I told him I had to meet you, he said I would the next time he returned from America.”

I took a peanut, opened it, and offered her half. Then her floodgates opened. “Look at what you did. You made this woman cry.”

I whispered to him, “Those are tears of joy. Look she is smiling at Pierre.”

Pierre said he needed to get to work and he would check on us later. “Dad, if you clean up I’ll take Meme with me.” My answer was a hug. He called a cab and told Meme she was going to go with him and we would clean up.

Colin said he would dry it, that was his way of saying I should wash the dishes.

With the kitchen back in order, “I want to see Grandmere on our way to the Louvre. I wonder if any of the old gang is around.”

“We can have a late lunch at that cafe close to the Louvre.’ So that was our plan.

Walking to the chapel, we were like kids. Bumping into each other. Approaching the chapel, I stopped. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t believe it. Look the grass hasn’t been cut, the flowers are dead. “I ran to the mausoleum. Thankfully, the Angel wasn’t ruined. It looked like the day I painted it. And Carl’s blue bird still looked good. I started clearing pots of dead flowers, when I heard, “Who are you and what are you doing .”

There was this young priest, Colin said he was a cocky little snot. “This mausoleum contains my grandmother. The chapel was given money to ensure the grass was cut and the flowers were attended. This wasn’t done. How much of my money is left? I’m taking it back and if you can’t give it to me, this chapel will be closed.”

He started to say something, I thought, GG he needs to be blessed as only you can.

He was ready to say something when a rainstorm hit him. You would think he would have noticed he was wet and Colin and I were dry. He didn’t, He rushed into the chapel to return in a black robe. Just as he was about to speak, he was rained upon again. He hadn’t noticed that there was new grass growing and seeds in the flower pots had started to sprout. Soaked for the second time, he returned dressed in his regular clothes. “Please not again.”

“You think we poured water on you? Where would we get the water? But look, new grass, flower seeds growing, I think you need to talk to your master, assuming you are the priest of this chapel. Where is the old priest? Did he not tell you about the miracles and how the people came here and prayed? Are you sure you are a priest?”

He started to walk away, I heard ‘follow’ and we did. Attached to the church was a two-room hut. Colin said he was being kind calling it a hut. I went and knocked on the door. A woman opened the door, looking at us. “He is expecting you.”

We followed her to the second room, and there was what was left of the old priest. He had lost a lot of weight, his eyes were wet, he was crying. It is hard to tell if they are tears of joy or tears of sadness. I took one hand, and Colin took the other. In a low voice, “My friends. I was waiting for your return and now that you are here I can go on my final rest. There is a record of everything in my diary. The new priest has it but I don’t think he has read it. I could feel his strength leaving, looking at the woman, “He has left us.”

The young priest started to say some prayer, I assumed. I grabbed him, “I want to see that book”

“I don’t know what book you mean.” Now I was getting angry with this kid. “The game is over, you will get me his diary or you will be covered with water. You will wish you were a fish. Now let’s go and get that book. Why are young people so bullheaded. He turned, and ran to the door, out of the hut to the chapel. He tried to open the door and couldn’t, turning he saw me. I’m not sure what he saw, but he fell on his knees and started to pray. All I heard was, save me, Lord.

I touched him, and he fainted. Colin and I carried him into the chapel. I went to his office to look for the diary. I heard, ‘hid it’

Now I started to move furniture, nothing.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t find the diary the old priest spoke about.”

“Maybe it isn’t here in this office. He is still out, I’ll help.”

We looked in the new priest’s quarters, but nothing. You are laughing, what did you find?”

“Explicit girlie books.” I leafed through one, then a thought came to me. “I’m going to ask GG to change these photos from these girls to animals.”

“Can she do that?” I had the magazine opened to a young lady in a bathing suit if that was what you would call what she had on.

“What animal does this suggest?” “With her red hair, I say she was a foxy young lady.”

If Colin didn’t believe in GG, watching that young lady become a red fox with a leash, would have made him a believer.

Now we need to find that diary. I heard altar.

“Let’s check the altar.”

The altar consisted of two arches covered with a stone slab. It was covered in white linen. Underneath the slab was a pocket where the priest kept his notes. In that pocket was the diary.

Until our young priest awoke, we read the diary. There was the story of the rains, there were his notes concerning the painting and a list of items brought to the chapel, even the names of the people who donated flowers, who donated their time. Who provided refreshments for the people who took care of the chapel and grounds. On the very last page was a note concerning our donation and how to draw upon it. I took that page. I wanted to check the balance and the dates of withdrawal.

I placed the book back in its place. I asked GG to awaken our young priest as I was sure the Bishop would be arriving soon. Leaving the chapel, I checked the grounds in from of Grandmere’s mausoleum. You wouldn’t believe it. “Colin, is that Angel smiling?”

Bumping shoulders we continued our walk to the Louvre.

Copyright © 2022 CLJobe; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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40 minutes ago, CLJobe said:

Sometimes autocorrect makes errors. You are correct. Pierre's name for the woman is 'Mere" referring to grandmother

I fired Otto Korreck, as he vas often wrong. 

images?q=tbn:ANd9GcT2nutiBLpUCRLN-FMSMFO

Verrry Interesting !

(und Was ist das? 🫂

:whistle:

Edited by Anton_Cloche
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