Sins of the Flesh. Fern Michaels

it was a race. A race to reach the château before dawn. He nodded curtly and mounted the bicycle. At first he started off uncertainly, but as confidence returned he picked up speed and pedaled after Philippe until they were traveling side by side.

      Reuben’s son. The knowledge was so astounding, Daniel still couldn’t quite believe it. But he had to believe it since the boy was right alongside him. At that moment he’d have given anything to know what Reuben’s replica was thinking and feeling. How much did he know? What had Mickey told him all these years? Obviously not very much, or the boy would at least have written to his father. Daniel sighed wearily. Soon enough he would have all the answers.

      Now he recognized it all—the beautiful château where he’d been so happy after the war. The road was the same, the deep ruts, the straggly dry grass along the sides and ditches, perhaps a little more overgrown, but still the same.

      The boy was pedaling furiously now toward the huge barn where Mickey always kept the Citroën. With dismay he saw one of the huge swinging doors hanging by a single hinge. He remembered his dog, Jake, a gift from Bebe. How they’d romped through the meadows behind the château! The field had been full of bluebells and yellow flowers. Tears burned his eyes. Memories were a wonderful thing, happy or sad, but he had no time now to dwell on them.

      The boy was waiting for him as he pulled up by the barn and dismounted. Daniel hesitated a moment, then extended his hand. “I’m Daniel Bishop,” he said.

      “I know who you are,” the boy said in Reuben’s voice, his English perfect and unstilted. He ignored Daniel’s hand and started walking to the château.

      It was strange, Daniel thought that the boy wasn’t going to enter the château by way of the kitchen door; but a moment later he understood why when Philippe opened the front door, held it aside for him, and then walked into the library. Daniel watched as Philippe glanced at the portrait over the mantel. Jesus, it was the same. Had he ever been that young? How beautiful Mickey was, and Reuben…Reuben looked…Reuben looked just the way the boy looked now except Reuben’s eyes were happy and smiling. The boy’s eyes were filled with anger and hatred. Why, Daniel wondered.

      Philippe towered over the mantel, one long arm reaching up to lift the heavy painting from the wall. The boy’s movements were so sure, so defined, Daniel knew he’d had a lot of practice removing the picture from the wall. When he spoke his voice was cold and furious.

      “I know why you’re here. It was a mistake for you to come. This is what I think of you and your Three Musketeers.”

      Daniel watched in horror as the boy brought up his knee to puncture the aged canvas. The canvas didn’t rip, but it tore loose from the tacks and frame. Philippe tossed it aside like a toy he was tired of playing with. Daniel felt like crying.

      The boy and his angry deed were forgotten as Mickey rushed to him, her arms outstretched. “Daniel! Mon Dieu! I told you he would come, Yvette! Daniel, I can hardly believe my eyes!” Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she made no move to wipe them away. “The same, chéri, you look the same. I would know you anywhere. How I’ve missed you, my friend. I’m so sorry that I’ve called upon you like this, but I had…Forgive me, Daniel, my manners are atrocious. Daniel, this is Philippe, my son, and, of course, you remember Yvette.” The boy nodded curtly and turned his back to his mother. Mickey looked at Daniel and shrugged helplessly.

      Her arm around Daniel’s shoulders, Mickey led him to the table, where she offered him food. Yvette was already setting a place for him. “It’s not much,” Mickey said apologetically.

      “The last thing I had to eat was a raw potato, skin and all, several days ago.” He did his best to ignore Philippe’s stormy eyes as he wolfed down the food.

      “A good, soapy bath,” Yvette said, her eyes on Philippe. “You, young man, find some clean clothes for Daniel and some strong boots.”

      The moment Daniel finished the last bite on his plate, Mickey leaned across the table. Her eyes were swimming with tears. “I wouldn’t trade this moment for anything in the world, Daniel. I thought I would never see you again. He does answer our prayers, I know He does. You are the proof. A day didn’t go by that I didn’t think of you and Reuben. Ah, the tears I shed, they would fill a river. Tell me, what do you think of my son?” she asked in a trembling voice.

      “He looks to be a fine young man, Mickey, so like Reuben it’s spooky. Why didn’t you tell us? You never wrote, you…My graduation, how do I thank you for that?”

      Mickey dismissed the statement with a wave of her hand. “No thanks are required, my friend. When one gives, one gives from the heart, out of love. I couldn’t tell you or Reuben. He was all I had after you left. He’s a fine young man. Right now he’s angry because he suspects why you are here. He wants to stay here and join the French Army and fight Germans. He believes he is French, at least half French. I’ve told him Reuben is his father, but he believes, I…could never tell him I’m not his mother. He…he doesn’t know about Bebe. He does know that Reuben is married to her, but not…I couldn’t, Daniel, it would have been like ripping the heart out of my chest. Tell me you understand, tell me you forgive me.”

      “Mickey, I can forgive you anything,” Daniel said sincerely.

      “The years have been kind to you, old friend.”

      “And to you. You’re as beautiful as ever. Reuben…”

      “You must tell me—how is he? I can’t stand it another minute, chéri, how is my darling?”

      “Right this minute I’d say he is one very angry man.” Daniel quickly told her how he’d managed to make the trip with the help he received from his friends. “I know Reuben is sitting in my office right now waiting for news. He has never forgotten you, Mickey, and I think I can truthfully say he loves you now as much as he loved you when he left here. I don’t think he’s done a single thing over the past years without first wondering if you would approve. Everything was for you, to prove himself. Always for you. He’s told me he booked passage here a dozen or more times, but he was so afraid of your rejection, he canceled his plans. He had no wish to cause you…what, Mickey, I don’t know…”

      “And Bebe?”

      “Bebe was…Bebe was a result of Reuben’s anger at you, I think. You see, he’d written this letter to you, and in his mind he gave you a certain amount of time to answer it. It was his last letter to you, if I’m not mistaken, other than the note about my graduation. He told me he poured out his heart to you and knew if you didn’t answer the letter that you wanted nothing to do with him. He told me so many times that he could understand if you were angry with him, but he couldn’t understand why you ceased communication with me. At least I understand now. But he was so tortured, so unhappy. When you didn’t respond to his letter he married Bebe. Out of defiance, never out of love. They have no marriage; they never had a marriage.”

      “They have two children,” Mickey said brokenly.

      “Bebe leads her life and Reuben leads his. They don’t see each other for months at a time. Bebe was away for a whole year not too long ago. Reuben has been talking about a divorce, and this time I think he means it. Do you still love him, Mickey?”

      “With all my heart. That will never change.”

      “What fools you both are,” Daniel said sadly. “So many years of aching and longing, of this one thinking this, and that one thinking that, and all because of pride. Do you recall once telling me that pride is the deadliest sin of all? You both could have had a wonderful life if you’d just settled things between you. So many years…” he repeated.

      Mickey sighed. “Yes, I did say that, and yes, I am guilty. At the time…”

      “At the time it seemed like the thing to do, and you had the baby, and then you grew fearful that either Reuben or Bebe would come and take him from you. Is that what happened?” Daniel asked gently.

      “Yes,” Mickey whispered, her eyes brimming with tears. “I can’t change the past; we must speak now of the