"The Forest Secret" - Chapter 22
As French political, religious, social, and economic leaders struggled with how best to begin the reconstruction following the devastation of the Notre Dame blaze, the Paris office of the New York Timeswas compiling the final pieces of Charley’s story that she would soon take back to America and begin composing.
Stephanie’s hundreds of photos had been winnowed down to 30 selections that would ultimately serve to inform the narrative. The interviews were finished, and the research, other than the details around the Rembrandt’s discovery, which would become essential to a later story by the Paris office, was concluded, The students were sent back to the Sorbonne. Denis had kindly populated a file with both obscure and detailed information regarding Notre Dame, the building, and its historic dominance in French life, and placed it all on a jump drive to take with her.
But one final and fundamental piece had to be completed before the story’s Paris component was put to rest and the office could move on to new coverage: an appreciative and respectful adieuhad to be paid to Mary Weatherby.
As a combined farewell to both their American and British visitors, Bernard had used his clout with Moreau to secure the angled and intimate confines of the special apartment in the Eiffel Tower, now only utilized by the government for special occasions like this. Moreau knew it was the least he could do for Mary’s role in finding the missing Rembrandt.
The elevated environs of Gustave Eiffel’s personal space during the construction of his tower, the small apartment was dominated by iron girders sweeping up through the floor on an angled path to the peak of the structure. Moreau offered himself as host for at least part of the evening, but the editor demurred, seeing the dinner as a personal gathering of those interested in the art of journalism.
Practically, there was barely room enough for the seven connected intrinsically to the story - Pierre wasn’t invited. The tower’s staff had done an admirable job of putting two tables together in the confined space half-way up the iron frame. Everyone found themselves in close proximity to everyone else, but their newly-discovered friendship made the nearness enjoyable.
Bernard graciously seated Charley and Stephanie on either side of Mary. The former gasped momentarily as, through the window, she could see Notre Dame Cathedral, nestled on the Seine. From the elevated view, the scarring was much more visible and stark. Large holes created gaping voids in the roof, and renovation crews had already begun the process of tearing down many rafters central to the Forest. Charring was everywhere, as were reminders of just how precariously the three rose windows were attached to their place in the smoke damaged walls. Nevertheless, they stood where they always had, and it was clear the first great task was ensuring they remained in their historic location.
Mary felt the surge of emotion at the sight of the Great Lady so mercilessly treated by the elements. “This gives an entirely terrifying view of what Aramis faced that night. Poor man.”
All present were feeling the same thing. It was a huge wound suspended between earth and heaven - a kind of cross lifted up that held Caron in his final moments. It was a sign of how all were affected that none of them bothered to look through the other openings that provided a panoramic view of the great city. It was as though they had become one, lost in tragedy but open to the hopeful resurrection of Caron’s legacy.
The rest of the time passed in intimate conversations, professional banter, and expressions of thanks to Mary for the trouble she took to add to their recounting of the story.
But the main affections were expressed to Charley. At one point, Bernard stood to address the group, slightly stooped for fear of his balding pate striking one of the girders.
“Charley, I have been in this business for some time, as we all know, but this situation has been unique. This entire venture hasn’t been mounted because of a remarkable news story, which it is, or unforgettable characters, which they are, or even the humbling of one of the world’s great structures, which it surely has been. No, we have all been put in this unique place and time because of the ability of just one person to tell a story. Normally that would be a gamble for an editor. We are trained to get the story from every angle and interview as many as possible in order to beat our competitors to the release and to inform the public. Yet this is an occasion where your editor in New York asked me to trust you with developing a story that would be worth it, just for the telling. And, on a great collective act of faith, we agreed.
Charley felt herself choking up. Mary put her hand on her arm in empathy as Bernard continued.
“And now - something very difficult for the journalistic trade to do - we wait. We just wait to see what you make of all our efforts. It’s torturous because, thanks to people like Mary, we have fully invested ourselves in the outcome without actually being able to create it. So, go gently with our aspirations, Charley. You are the builder, but we are the workers who helped to prepare the materials for what you are about to unfold. We wish you the very best in that accomplishment and we only ask that every time the accolades come your way for its publication that you remember your friends in Paris who shared in the tragedy and triumph with you.”
The next morning, enjoying tea in the Executive Lounge at Gare du Nord train station, Charley told Mary and Stephanie that Bernard’s speech the previous evening had meant more to her than anything she had heard in her career.
Stephanie grabbed her hand. “Well, when you think of it, Charley, it really is a unique kind of journalism. Usually we all have parts in the final product after working manically, with pressed timelines. But here we were permitted to take our time to unfold the story. It didn’t just fall into place but had to be discovered and developed. Yet we weren’t to tell it. That is your role, and you’ll do it half a world away. It really is quite unusual.”
They both had offered to take Mary back to London on the Euro Star and then to Canterbury, but she had politely declined. “You have much to do,” she responded. “And I have much to think about. I was just passing away my time at Weatherby Manor, preparing for my final moments and ensuring that the essence of the estate would be respected as it passed over to the university. But now I realize I have much still to live for.”
“What do you mean?” Stephanie asked.
“For one thing, I wish to contribute to Notre Dame’s rebuilding. Some of the most intimate moments of my life were spent there and I wish to make sure that others have that opportunity. And I think it’s time to stop being merely a placeholder on the board of the university. There is much to learn and I wish to be part of the world being created for our students, much as Aramis created my own setting with his knowledge of life, his enthusiasm for it, and his ability to create intimacy out of learning.”
It all made sense, and Mary’s new friends enjoyed the energy of the new lease on life that her Paris journey had given her.
“Stephanie and I have something to give you, with the kind permission of Bernard,” Charley said, handing her a small object the size of a key.”
“What?” Mary said, expressing her curiosity.
“In this small piece of technology is the entire collection of Bernard’s 87 volumes of journals. We’d love to have given you all the originals, but there were estate matters to complete and you, better than most, understand just how long that will take.”
“In here?” Mary asked, staring in wonder at the piece in the palm of her hand.
“All of them,” Stephanie said with a smile. ‘My advice would be to get someone at the university to print them all for you. It will take a while, but I’m sure they will be worth the read.”
And then, to their mutual surprise, Mary handed the drive back to Charley. “I’m sorry, my friends - especially after all your trouble. You see, I had a life after my time with Aramis - a husband I loved, a family I built, a life worth remembering. My love for Aramis knew no limits. I gave him everything and I took everything he offered. We were both highly selfish and unselfish in the same moment.”
She brought the tissue out from her sleeve and dabbed her eyes. “But I have learned something from my brief time in Paris and through your wonderful considerations.”
“What’s that?” Charley asked.
“Notre Dame was the ultimate love of his life - another lady whose influence transcended and humbled my own. I could woo Aramis; she can draw millions. That love for Notre Dame continued for decades after we separated and no doubt will continue forever. The portions of his volumes that I heard while here were like intimate, almost erotic, encounters between lovers. The journals were his love letters to her and I feel no desire to intrude on their privacy. Am I curious? Of course. But am I nosy? Intrusive? No, I was brought up too well for that.”
They all smiled at the way she had uttered those last few lines – aristocratic, yet natural at the same time.
“My time in this world is drawing to a close,” she continued, “but in my wildest dreams I couldn’t have imagined what has happened to me in the last few days. Thank you for that experience, for giving me my youth back, and Aramis, of course. And thank you for having the curiosity to track down the woman in the portrait. I shall forever be indebted to you, but my life, as it is now, is enough. Finishing it off well is what matters - and what Aramis would have expected of me.”
As they watched her enter her train car with the help of an assistant, Mary turned around and gave them the kind of generous smile that remains in people’s memories.
“That was remarkable,” Stephanie said with her last wave.
“Sheis remarkable,” countered Charley. “And she is right - it is her life. But I get the sense she’s now about ready to start living it again as a result of this experience. I think we gave her that and we can be thankful.”
She turned to look at Stephanie, who moved forward and put her arms around her American friend. “You are a special woman with a special talent, Charley Heron. Now, since your flight doesn’t leave until tonight, we have all day for me to take you shopping.”