Secrets of Paris_ A Novel - Luanne Rice [65]
“Is that the petition?” Kelly asked.
“Yes,” Lydie said, handing it to her. A green-haired boy stood before them, juggling shoes. Four high heels and a man’s sneaker. Lydie couldn’t take her eyes off him, but Kelly was mesmerized by the petition. Her thumb traced the words “United States Department of Justice.” When he passed the sneaker, Lydie fished some francs out of her pocket.
“We have to fill that out,” Lydie said.
“It’s just four pages long,” Kelly said, sounding perplexed.
Naturally she would expect more, Lydie realized, watching her. A document that could change her life’s course, make her wish come true, should be many pages long. “Did you know that you have to be interviewed by someone from the embassy?” Lydie asked.
“I have heard that.”
“Mr. Morrison said that your being illegally in France causes problems. If you show up at the U.S. Embassy without a proper visa to be here, they have an obligation to report you to the French police.”
Kelly looked at her helplessly. “And they would deport me to the Philippines?”
“It’s possible,” Lydie said. “One option would be for you to return to the Philippines on your own, to file the petition there.” This seemed impossible to Lydie; she hated to even suggest it, but Morrison had said it might be the best bet.
“I would do that,” Kelly said, a smile spreading across her face.
“What would happen if you went back?” Lydie asked, shocked by Kelly’s happiness.
“I would see my home and the rest of my family. But I would have hope of going to the United States. I would be a star in my province!”
Lydie regarded her. She rarely thought of Kelly as a daughter. In the back of her mind, she thought of Patrice and Didier as Kelly’s family. But seeing Kelly grin at the thought of her family made Lydie realize how far Kelly was from home, and how far she had to go.
“Kelly,” Lydie said. “Tell me how you got here—to Paris—in the first place.”
“I obtained a visa to visit Germany. It is much easier for Filipinos to visit Germany than any other country.”
“A tourist visa?” Lydie asked.
“Yes. Did your parents get to the States on tourist visas?” Kelly asked.
“No, immigration laws were much more liberal then. It was thirty years ago.” She watched Kelly, sensed that she was nervous, hesitant about going on with the story. “Don’t you want to tell me what happened?” Lydie asked.
Kelly shrugged, looked away. “Well, my brother, who was a chauffeur for the Philippine ambassador to France, smuggled me across the border in the trunk of his car.” She sipped her Coke, as if that were the end of the story.
“And then?” Lydie asked.
Kelly shrugged. “The ambassador was returning from a vacation in Bavaria. Paul Anka was driving him and his family in the limousine. We had planned the whole thing by letter, when I was in the Philippines, waiting for my visa. So, I landed in Berlin and found the bus to the Black Forest. And Paul Anka was waiting for me at a certain hotel.”
Kelly spoke in her usual shy voice, without any obvious emotion, as though the story embarrassed her. The way she told it seemed designed to prevent Lydie from feeling sympathy for her.
“How far did you ride in the trunk?” she asked.
“Many miles,” Kelly said. “Don’t feel sorry for me, Lydie. I did it because I wanted to—to get to Paris, it was worth it.”
At that moment, sitting in the café, Lydie wanted more than anything else for Kelly to get to America. She added it to the list of what she had always wanted most in her life: a happy family, an Alfa Romeo, the cover story in House & Garden, Michael.
“I didn’t mean to make you so sad,” Kelly said.
“It’s not just you,” Lydie said. “I’m having a hard time myself right now. Is your brother still the ambassador’s chauffeur?”
“Yes, but there is a new ambassador, who flies whenever he leaves France. So Paul Anka no longer crosses the border. Also, he works only part-time because there is not so much driving. Before, under the old administration, his duties included doing errands for President and Mrs. Marcos.”
“Like what?”
“Many things to buy in Paris!” Kelly said, giggling,