"The Forest Secret" - Epilogue

Charley’s long piece ran in the Times Magazinethe next weekend to some excitement and commentary.  Links in social media or news aggregators carried it even further.

But it quickly became apparent that it was primarily scanned for any connections to the Rembrandt discovery.  She knew it was inevitable, but it was disappointing nonetheless.

And yet, of all she had written for the magazine, this was destined to become her proudest accomplishment.  What began as the retelling of an evolving story had also become a treatise on humanity in ways she could never have predicted. Initially, it was Stephanie’s observations on that final day in Paris that opened the prospects of a broader direction to her.  But that incentive had become even more pronounced as she combed Caron’s volumes in their digital format on her computer.  For all the attention she had   directed towards his life, she had somehow missed just how sagacious he was concerning the state of humanity - an oversight she had attempted to correct in her article.

“Well, I confess that I didn’t see that coming,” Bernard said on the other end of the line.

“Nor I,” Sandra replied.

“In its own way, it was a brilliant piece of political writing,” he continued.  “And in France it has produced some controversy, especially here in Paris, where people don’t take to being reminded that they’ve already moved on from their concern over the cathedral.  Charley was correct, though - the riots are once again in full swing and another of our many political crises is about to break on us all.”

“You’ll get your chance to follow the Rembrandt angle, though, Bernard.  I had asked Charley to only touch on it; the story will be up to your office to put together.  We’ll run it there and here in New York at the same time.  Who will you have write it - Pierre?”

“Not a chance,” he replied, irritated.  “The powers that be here would never have me let him go, but that doesn’t keep me from consigning him to more mundane pieces.”

She pushed back gently.  “He’s a great writer, Bernard.  You and I have worked with worse.”

“Are you telling me you want me to give the Rembrandt story to him?”

“I would do no such thing.  You’re the boss there and you’ve proven your value again with this piece by Charley.  She feels forever in your debt.”

“Yes, I know.  She wrote me as much when she sent the early copy of her piece, out of courtesy. Her instincts are sound, Sandra, and her writing is good.  Maybe you should send her back for a week to follow up the Rembrandt story herself?”

“I’ll consider it if you’re open to considering Pierre for the task.”

“Sandra!” he burst out in exasperation.

“He’s still a better writer than she is, Bernard - you know that.”

“He’s an ass.”

Despite herself, she burst into laughter.  “Let’s give it 24 hours and circle back to it. You did excellent work on all this, though, Bernard - thank you.”

“A bit like old times, it was - you and me, a story, and …”.  He paused suddenly.

“What?”

“I guess I just miss you.  This story made that true more than ever.”

Sandra sighed in reflection.  “I’m in Paris for the European Press Prize awards next month.  Maybe you can arrange for me to see the painting?”

“Count on it, along with some drinks at Harry’s,” Bernard responded, a hint of eagerness in his tone.

It was later that same day that Charley received a message from Mary - an email, of all things.  She must have gotten herself an email address, since she had told both women at the train station that she didn’t even possess a computer.

“A wonderful piece, Charley, and I appreciated the delicacy with which you danced around my time with Aramis.  You accomplished something extraordinary when you elevated him from just being a special man to a prototype of the kind of citizen we will all need to become if the future is to have a chance.

“I don’t know if you heard, but Aramis is to receive an honorary burial in Paris next week.  I feel I should be there.  Why not come – Stephanie, too - and be my companions once again?  Plus, I need a ride from the train station!!!!!!

“Again, my dear friend, thank you, for not only giving me Aramis back, but an Aramis far greater - and more expansive - than I knew. Consider coming to Paris.”  

She immediately closed her computer and called Stephanie’s home number in Paris - something she had already done two or three times since returning to New York.

“Charley,” her friend answered after a few rings.

“I thought maybe I’d missed you,” Charley said.

“I’m just out of the shower and my hair is dripping onto the floor.  Just getting myself ready for a big date tonight.”

“What?  You never mentioned liking anyone.”

“I don’t, but you would never guess who it is.”

Charley somehow knew immediately.  “Peter?  He asked you out?”

“Nope.  I asked him. Call it a pity date.  I think he’s been kicking himself for not asking you when you were here with us, so I thought I should help him out a bit.”

“Are you saying …?”

“That I like him?” Stephanie replied, clearly enjoying the conversation.  “I didn’t think so, but after I kidded you about his taking to you, I got a little jealous and decided I could never let my American cousin get everything.”

Both women laughed.

“Seriously though, I suppose there was always a part of me that was fond of him, but I had never taken any initiative.  I’ll find out tonight how he feels about it and get back to you.  He did seem pleased when I asked, though.”

Charley then relayed Mary’s request concerning attending the funeral in Paris.

“What a great idea.  Can you do it?  I mean, that would just be the best thing.  The team here was asked to the funeral by someone from Minister Moreau’s office and you being there would complete the circle for us all.”

Charley smiled to herself just at the thought of it. “Let me talk to Sandra about it tomorrow morning.  Maybe she can come up with something for me to do there.”

A short while later, Charley emerged from a hot bath and settled herself down for a relaxing evening.  She fixed herself a Bailey’s coffee and looked at the magazine with her story in it situated beside her laptop containing the totality of Aramis’s writings.

She opened the screen on her lap and picked up her reading from where she had left off previously.  Aramis had just quoted something quite unforgettable from Karl Mannheim:

“Everywhere, people are awaiting a messiah, and the air is laden with the promises of large and small prophets.  We all share the same fate: we carry within us more love, and above all more longing than today’s society is able to satisfy.  We have all ripened for something, and there is no one to harvest the fruit.”

Charley closed her eyes to concentrate on the depth of meaning - ideas for her next article, perhaps, or even a book already forming in her thoughts.  To her mind, Aramis Caron had never been more alive.

THE END

Thank you for reading along with these chapters. Details on the publication of The Forest Secret will be available in the next post.