The Shadows of God - J. Gregory Keyes [103]
“You're doing it now.”
“Yes,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Because now I think it's too late to matter.”
“No. Lenka, I love you. Please, meet me later tonight, after the craftsmen have—”
“No, Benjamin,” she said. “I have my own duties to see to. Everyone must do his part in these times, and I have found a part to play.”
“What? As Voltaire's mistress?”
She blinked. “That is so unfair as to be obscene,” she said. “Obscene.” And she turned on her heel and walked off.
He ought to follow her. But what use a wife if there was no world to live in?
He could fix things. Fixing things was what he was good at. But you had to fix them in the right order …
And so he rejoined the others, and heard more of their plans, and tried to ignore the little voice telling him that his last chance had come and gone, and that some things could never be fixed, no matter how skilled the tinkerer.
Adrienne turned her face to the wall when Crecy entered.
“Ah. Still feeling sorry for yourself, I see.”
“What have you come for, Veronique?”
“To see you.”
“Strange. I thought, perhaps, to chastise me.”
“No. You have good reason to feel sorry for yourself,” Crecy replied. “I do not begrudge you that.” Then, more softly, “I miss Hercule. In my own way, I loved him, too.”
“You were jealous of him.”
“Yes, as a sister is jealous. I wished no harm to him. When I find Oliver, I will kill him.”
Adrienne turned to face her. “I think he will kill you, that is what I think.”
“Thanks for your confidence, but it does not matter what you think, in this case. Oliver is a dead man. It is not you I avenge in killing him.”
“Hercule needs no avenging. He is beyond that.”
“So you say. I disagree. Besides, Oliver has more to answer for than Hercule—and Irena, though you seem to have forgotten her.” She paused. “I have brought someone to see you.”
“I don't want to see anyone.”
“I don't care. I'll return.”
Adrienne's jaw trembled when Crecy reentered the room. She had Hercule's children with her.
“Here is your Aunt Adrienne, children. You remember little Stephen and Ivana, don't you, Adrienne?”
“I remember. Hello, children.”
“Hello, Auntie,” the little boy said. The girl said nothing, but clung to Crecy's coat.
“Your father asked Aunt Adrienne to take care of you while he is away,” Crecy said.
“Veronique—”
“And she promised she would, that she would care for you as if she were your own mother.”
“Where is Mama?” the little girl asked.
“She is dead, like Papa, you stupid thing,” Stephen said angrily.
The shaking in Adrienne's jaw was spreading to her whole body.
“This is despicable, Veronique,” she accused.
“Indeed. Children, I'm going to leave you with Auntie for a while. Will you be good?”
“Yes, Mademoiselle,” the boy replied.
“Crecy, do not leave me with—” But the redhead was already gone. The children stood there, Ivana with the beginnings of tears in her eyes.
“Come here.” Adrienne sighed. “Come sit, and tell me what you think of the Indians.”
“I think they are very brave,” Stephen said. “I think per haps I shall be one when I grow up.”
“Well, perhaps you shall.”
“I will be one, too,” Ivana said.
“That's stupid,” said the boy. “You can't be an Indian. Indians are men.”
“So are soldiers, but Aunt Nikki is a soldier,” the little girl replied.
“Anyway,” Adrienne added, “surely there are Indian women, somewhere.”
Stephen's eyes widened, as if he hadn't thought of that. Then he shrugged. “I guess so.”
They fell silent, and Adrienne couldn't think of anything to say. She had avoided children, since Nico's kidnapping— being around them only caused her pain.
Stephen, kicking at the floor, broke the silence. “You don't have to take care of us,” he said. “I can do that.”
“Can you?”
“Yes, he can,” Ivana said emphatically. “He's my brother.”
“So—we don't need your help,” Stephen amplified.
Adrienne's lips tightened. “Maybe—maybe I need yours,” she said. “What your