Who was Marcel?

Marcel was one of the most unexpected characters in my memoir, French Illusions, My Story as an American Au Pair in the Loire Valley. From our first encounter, it was hard to reconcile that this quirky, enthusiastic man was my employer’s brother, but even Marcel suggested he was the “black sheep” of the family. He loved America, the language and the country music scene. As you will see in the following excerpt, his English was a bit rough too.            

            Feeling almost back to normal the next morning, I showered, dressed, and ventured downstairs. The house was so quiet I wondered where everyone had gone. “I see you feel much better.”

            Spinning around, I came face to face with Marcel, my cheeks warming as he appraised me from top to bottom. He looked much younger now that he had showered and shaved. “You startled me,” I said.

            “Only so you know, everyone is visiting my sister and Jocelyn in the hospital.”

            “Why didn’t you go?”

            “Somebody must stay at the home and look after you,” he replied, his grin playful, albeit fleeting. “Can you eat some lunch?”

            “I think so.”

            Marcel led the way into the kitchen while my mind swirled with confusion and unrest. This is so strange. He is the last person I expected to see today.

            Once we arrived in the kitchen, he pulled out a chair and patted the seat. “You sit while I cook.”

            Shrugging, I obeyed, and moments later, he placed a glass of citron pressé fresh lemon juice, in front of me. Over the next ten minutes, I sipped my drink while he chattered, sharing the latest news about his sister and Jocelyn.

            “Voilà.” Here you are. He passed me a croque monsieur sandwich. “Should we go to eat on balcony? Cool air will make you all good.”

            “Sure,” I said, smiling at his choice of words. “All the patio chairs have been put away for the winter so the stone stairs will have to do.”

            “I don’t mind,” he said, balancing his plate on his lap once we sat down.

            Pleased to be outside on such a beautiful day, I closed my eyes, relaxing as the sun warmed my skin. When I opened them a few seconds later, I caught Marcel staring at me. Pretending not to notice, I focused on the forested valley below us.

            “I asked some questions to my brother-in-law of you, and he says to me you live in the state of Washington.” Marcel took a sip of his drink. “I searched it on a map and realized you came a long way to see France. What are your thoughts at the moment?”

            “Well, it’s very different from home, but Songais is a charming town. I’m feeling more and more comfortable with your sister, her husband, and the kids.” Venturing a glance his way, I asked a question of my own. “So, tell me about yourself? I didn’t even know you existed before a couple of days ago.”

            Marcel bristled and looked off into the distance. “I am not shocked my sister did not mention me. My family is in disagreement with my choice to work in building rather than finish my university studies. They consider me lazy too because of all the traveling I’ve made.” His eyes refocused on me. “Next I want to see the United States . . . maybe the state of Washington.”

            My throat constricted. He was flirting with me. “I can’t blame you for wanting to visit the United States. I feel like I’ve only seen a small part of it myself.”

            Buoyed by my reaction, he told me about some of his trips throughout Europe and parts of Africa, until out of nowhere he asked, “You like music of guitar?”

            “Sure,” I replied, shifting my position. “Why? Do you play?”

            “I learn. My priority is country, you know, like Willie Nelson.”

            “Hmm, maybe I’d recognize a few of his songs, but I don’t listen to country very often.”

            “What music you like?”

            “The Beatles are my favorite band, but I like disco, too.”

            Marcel gaped at me and then shook his head, bewildered. “I shall have to work very hard to change your mind regarding this.”

            While we finished our meal, we discussed everything from family to pop culture. I enjoyed speaking English—until a breeze came up over the valley.

             “Should we go inside?” Marcel asked, pushing himself up and offering me a hand.

             I rose too quickly, and a wave of dizziness overcame me. I leaned against him for support. “I think I need to go lie down for a while.”

            “Of course.”

            We strolled along in silence until we reached the banister, Marcel searching my eyes before speaking. “I leave the city in the afternoon, but would it be acceptable if I come to see you when I return next week?”

            “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” My mind felt cloudy with fatigue.

            “Because of my sister?”

            “Yes, for starters.”

            “Mm . . . I guess I shall have to come back to persuade you in another way. Goodbye for now,” he said, an impish grin crossing his face.

            Turning toward the stairs, I forced one foot in front of the other. I’ll have to give all of this some more consideration after my nap. I really didn’t know how I felt about Marcel, but I was pretty sure Madame Dubois wouldn’t want her brother anywhere near me.

I would love to hear from my readers and I promise to reply to your comments. If you would like to learn more about my experiences as a nanny in France, you can purchase a copy of my book at Amazon.com. The audiobook is also available at Audible.com. (Photo from blog by Michael Rohrer, Huffington Post).