Page 83 of Phantom
Maggie winces and nods. “It was when Ben was fifteen and stayed in Europe for spring break, well before he and I started dating. I was around though, because our families have been close since Prohibition.”
She darts her gaze to the Bordeauxs on the bench and lowers her voice to barely above a whisper. “In true Bordeaux fashion, they paid the coroner to report that his injuries were…self-inflicted. They never released that he’d been shottwice. In the heartandhead.”
“What?” My brain short-circuits as my own nightmares cloud my vision, but Sol’s dad died nine years before mine did. There’s no way they’re linked, right?
I shake my wild conspiracy theories away and focus on the conversation. “That’s insane. Why would the coroner agree—”
“Because the Bordeauxs wanted to deliver their own punishment,” Maggie explains. “And Bordeaux justice—now thePhantom’sjustice—is much scarier than anything the government can do. And everyone who knew Abraham, knew he wouldn’t leave his family to fend for themselves. The empire has been up to Ben and Sol ever since.”
I nod slowly, taking it all in. “And Mrs. Bordeaux… Valérie. What about her?”
Maggie sucks her teeth. “She has good days and bad days. Sundays are hit or miss, but if we don’t come, she gets very upset, so we take the risk. If I were her,allmy days would be bad. Considering the fact that Ben was in Europe, she was the only one around when everything happened to Abraham and Sol—”
“Sol?” I interrupt, unable to stop myself. “What happened with Sol?”
Maggie’s eyes flare and she shakes her finger at me. “Nope. Not falling for it. Telling you about his dad is one thing, but telling you everything else that went down will only lead to trouble. Or at least, averystern talking-to by my husband.”
Shit, so close.
A crash makes me jolt and Marie shrieks in my ear.
“Shit,” Maggie curses and gently scoops her daughter from my arms before we both turn to see Mrs. Bordeaux cursing and yelling at Mr. Bordeaux’s grave. Ben stands off to the side, his eyes wide and glassy, his hand covering his mouth while Sol tries to calm her with his deep, soothing voice.
“Ben has a hard time,” Maggie explains under her breath. “It’s why we bought Dr. Portia a French Quarter house. Sometimes we still have to call Sol to settle her down. He’s just better with her. It’s not always like this, though,” she reassures me. “Just bad days, like today.”
She leaves me and goes to Ben’s side to console him, leaving Sol by himself to soothe his mother. I take a ginger step forward… and another… and another, slowly gathering courage even though the wild madness in her eyes makes my stomach twist in knots.
“Scarlett,mon amour, can you please tell my mother about your role as Juliet? She loves opera.” Sol’s authoritative voice is still gentle to me, although he snaps at Ben right after. “Call for your car, brother.”
Ben nods and struggles to get out his phone.
I turn to Mrs. Bordeaux’s glazed eyes. “Mrs. Bordeaux, do you likeRoméo et Juliette?” She blinks and shakes her head like she’s trying to stay present, so I continue. “My favorite aria is in Act 1. Do you, um… do you want to hear it?”
It’s clear by just looking in her eyes that the poor woman is fighting hard for her sanity, but she seems calmer at the line of questioning at least. Going with my gut, I sit next to her on the bench and begin to singJe veux vivreunder my breath.
Mrs. Bordeaux’s white-knuckled grip on Sol’s hand gains color again as her fingers loosen. Those unseeing eyes sharpen in focus. Once I get through the first verse, the madness has already seemed to clear and recognition filters through. Soon enough, she begins to hum with me, already knowing the melody.
I glance to Sol and my chest squeezes. Sweat prickles on his brow, from the sun or stress, I’m not sure. But his midnight gaze is fixed on me, and full of gratitude and sorrow. His jaw is set hard, as if he’s trying to stave off the emotions boiling just underneath the surface. One hand holds his mother’s while his free one stretches across the back of the bench and squeezes mine.
Together, Mrs. Bordeaux and I get through the entire song, and by the end she seems to be mostly back in good spirits. We talk at length about all things opera and her favorite shows she’s seen from her chair in box five. After several minutes, I start to relax but Sol’s grasp on my hand is still strong.
“The New French Opera House is my Abraham’s, you know. We met in Paris and he convinced me to come to the States with him by bragging about his own personal opera house. He hated the shows, but he’d still see every one of them with me. Now it’s my Solomon. He’ll sit with hismaman.” She beams at Sol, and my heart skips at the love in her gaze.
He tries to catch her before she pats the mask side of his face, but she makes contact anyway. Her hand suddenly spasms and she begins to whisper under her breath to him.
His grip on my hand disappears.
“Scarlett, go with Maggie.”
“What?” My eyes dart to Maggie and Ben. They look just as bewildered as I feel, but when I return my gaze to Sol’s, he’s focused on his mother. His hands wrap around hers, as if he’s preparing to stop her from fleeing. Then I hear it…
That sweet encouragement I thought she was sharing with Sol, is now harsh, unintelligible muttering.
“Maman, you’re okay—”
“It’s their fault,” she hisses. Spittle collects on her trembling bottom lip as she stares off into space. “He would be alive if it weren’t for them, I know it.”
“Who are you talking about, Mrs. Bor—Valérie?”
