Blood Is Thicker...
By
Christine
Part Two
Chapter 12
Fouchon stood with his back to Madeleine for what seemed like forever. She waited quietly and without moving. Finally, he spoke, "You were four years old when your mother took you from me." He paused and turned to look at her. "Do you remember me at all?"
He had accepted her! Tears of relief came down from her eyes. "Yes, Papa," she choked. "I do remember you. Good things. I don't even remember getting burned!"
Fouchon felt another stab. "Papa," she had said, and Papa she had called him as a child. She had been his delight, and when she disappeared with her mother, she had become his devastation. His inability to find her had brought unfulfillment, broken dreams and a sense of loss in such extremes that all thoughts of her had turned to a wicked bitterness at what he would never have. And now as she stood before him, that bitterness was being ripped from it's entrenchment in his heart, and it physically hurt him. A quiet groan escaped his throat and when he closed his eyes to try to fight it a single tear slid out of each eye. He looked at his daughter, "Madeleine, Madeleine…I tried to find you, I looked for you…." His throat ached as he spoke, and he cursed his heart for feeling pain.
"I believe you, Papa."
"You can't understand what's going through my mind right now…I'm not sure what to say."
"Then don't." She reached for him. "Please, Papa…" She had imagined this moment so many times.
He realized what she wanted and hesitantly took her in his arms. He pulled her more tightly to him as he felt her arms wrap around him and her head lay against his chest. Sighing deeply, he vowed, "No one is ever going to take you from me again," and a deadly chill went down Madeleine's spine.
***
Madeleine sobbed occasionally during the reunion, but Fouchon composed himself, incredulous he had actually shed tears. He had quickly instructed Pik to handle a number of matters, including arrangements for a hunt the following night. "I can handle it," Pik said and immediately left, relieved things finally seemed to be agreeable. Fouchon returned to Madeleine and poured them both a hefty drink, for which she was grateful. They sat facing each other, a thousand questions in their eyes. Fouchon broke the silence. "Was there another man? Did your mother take you and leave me to be with another man?"
"No, there was never any other man. It was only just the two of us, I swear it."
"Well, then, where is she now?"
Madeleine looked down into her drink. "I'm…sorry, Papa, she…she's passed away."
"Passed away? When?"
"When I was nine….she had cancer."
"So where have you been all this time?"
"Mama found a couple to adopt me, I was with them until they died last year. That's when I found out about you."
"Your mother was dying, and thought it would be better to put you with strangers than to give you back to me?!" A frightening, angry look clouded his face.
"Please, Papa, please don't hate her."
Hating Danielle was all he had done for as long as he could remember. The intensity of the bitterness he felt over Madeleine's loss was mirrored by the hatred which grew from Danielle's betrayal. Both had carved him, created him. The bitterness would be eased partially by Madeleine's return, but a great deal would remain for the years they had lost. But there would be no respite for the hatred that burned for her mother, hatred which now grew hotter at this new revelation.
"Do you remember anything she told you about me?" He was curious.
"All I know is what is in the letter Mama left for me, that's it." She pulled the letter out of the larger envelope and waited while he read it.
"This is all? This is her only defense?"
"Yes, Papa. I don't understand, do you?."
Fouchon paced, his hands clasped behind his back. "Your mother and I didn't know each other very well when we married. We sort of rushed into things, we rushed into you, in fact…Once we did get to know each other…well…but that's no excuse. She didn't have to take you and disappear, we could have worked something out." He made his way back over to Madeleine.
Madeleine attempted to talk about what she remembered about her mother, but Fouchon wasn't interested. He was just as dismissive when she talked about her adoptive family.
Fouchon took a large swallow of his drink and changed the subject. "Are things so bad for you that you have to clean houses to make ends meet?"
"No, not exactly," she began. She explained she had received a decent enough life insurance settlement at her adoptive parents' death. There was no real estate involved, since they rented an apartment, but the money she did get paid for their funerals, debts, and the student loans she accrued while earning her MBA. But after she got the envelope telling of her parentage, most of the remaining money was spent on private investigators to search out the whereabouts of one Emil Fouchon. Her funds started to run low, but she had to further employ private investigators once in New Orleans. First to find out places he might be and when, and later to discover the cleaning service he used. "I should've done that first, instead of chasing you all over the city." He raised his eyebrows at this as she continued. "The maid service was always hiring. Nobody likes to be a maid. I got hired right away."
"But why didn't you talk to me right away?"
"I don't know. You were so difficult to make contact with like normal people, I figured you were someone really important. I guess I wanted to see what you were like and wait for the perfect moment."
He joined his fingertips in front of his face pensively. There had been a moment, hadn't there? "And I was cruel to you," he stated. He stared out the window, muttering, "All this time, all this time…I would have given you every privilege…" She let him talk. He turned back toward her, "I have never been accused of being a nice person. I am very sorry for how I treated you. But now I'd like to have a second chance with you, if you'll let me."
"Is that an invitation to stay?"
"Would you like to?"
"Yes, I want to very much. But for how long?" She wondered if she should keep paying rent at her apartment.
He cocked his head a little, surprised. "Forever, of course, you're my daughter." He smiled and asked, "Where are you staying now?"
"Here," she answered and Fouchon looked concerned. "No," she said, "I mean here, at your estate. In the guest cottage. Mr. Van Cleaf said it would be best if I stayed there. He said that you're not always here, and I'd probably be more comfortable in a smaller place."
"Yes, my man Pik. Good idea," he said more to himself than to Madeleine. "What do you think of him. It seems you were able to spend some time with him."
"Well, he's been very helpful, getting me settled and all. He's kind of quiet, though, doesn't talk much, you know?" She hoped she sounded sincerely uninterested in him.
"But how did it end up that you told him about yourself?" he inquired.
"He caught me following the two of you in the city."
"You were following us in the city? Did you see anything…interesting?"
"No, and Mr. Van Cleaf kindly asked me to stop stalking you. That's when I got hired by the maid service. But he recognized me."
Fouchon was slightly puzzled that Pik hadn't told him about the girl, but he reasoned he must've had his reasons. He trusted Pik implicitly.
"Go on."
She told him that he had caught her hiding out in the mansion and that he had been quite accommodating once she explained who she was and presented him with the documents she had.
"He didn't get…rough? I mean, before he realized who you were?"
"No," she reassured. "Like I said, he's been really helpful. Made me move up here out of my apartment right away. Let me buy stuff under your name. He said you'd approve."
"And I do." He smiled sincerely at her. "Do you have something you can wear for formal dining tonight?" She nodded. "Then get ready. Your Papa is taking his daughter out to dinner. I'll pick you up around the back of the cottage in an hour." He got up and kissed her forehead.
Madeleine smiled warmly before she got up to head back to the cottage. "This is going well," she thought. "It's almost perfect..."
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