by Kim Cox © 2008 (in process) about 100,000 words The heart is like a mirror; when it breaks, it shatters. To go on, all you need is to pick up the pieces. Blurb: Set in Normandy, France in 1944, just after D-day, Simone Cuvier, a lovely, french, peasant woman, dressed in boy's clothing drops her groceries and her long dark brown hair falls from her cap to linger about her waist.  American soldiers gather around to admire her beauty, but Simone, hearing so many tales about how the Germans abused the French women made her afraid.  Like a frightened animal, she tries to flee only to run full-bodied into the handsome Lt. Paul Lawson of the US Airforce. Three months later they marry, but destiny interferes.  Paul, while in Italy on a mission is overdue for his leave to come back to her.   Simone, now pregnant goes into labor.  Due to a tragedy, her grandmere can't find Paul.  Twin girls are born. Paul Lawson is in the US with his family once again with no memory of a wife.   His mother, conniving and wittingly convinces Paul that he's engaged to marry  another, Alana, young socialite of a prosperous family in New Hampshire. One of the twin girls, Kathleen is kidnapped by a renegade German POW.  Shortly after, Simone's grandmere dies, but not before telling her of relatives they have in New Orleans  and giving her enough money to get her there. Simone feels if she can only make it to America with her daughter, Nicole, she can find Paul.  Together they will find and take back Kathleen, once again being happy. Will Simone and Paul find each other again and then find Kathleen as Simone   wishes or will destiny win?   Excerpt: ~CHAPTER 1~ Normandy, France, 1945 Simone Dion Lawson "Grandmere!" Simone Lawson yelled, crouched on the kitchen floor as a pain tore at her insides. Her left hand clutched her abdomen as her right held firmly to the edge of the ceramic sink, filled with soapy water and an unwashed pot—all that remained from the morning’s breakfast dishes. Warm, sticky liquid whooshed from between her thighs. Fear washed over her. "Grandmere!" she yelled again. Nicolette Sheradan rushed through the kitchen door from her flower garden. She threw her gloves and shears onto the counter and hurried to her side. "Ma cherie, what is wrong?" Bending, she entangled her arm through Simone’s, helping her to stand. "Oh . . . the pain, grandmere . . . it is terrible . . . the pain." Beneath where she'd squatted, lay a puddle of fluid. "Your water . . . it broke." "But it is too soon, no? The baby is not due for another month." Another pain shot through her, making her weak in the knees, threatening to land her back on the floor. As Nicolette held tightly to her waist, Simone draped her arm around the shorter woman’s round shoulders. She kissed her forehead, a salty taste lingered on her lips. Her grandmere was someone she could always count on for support and love, especially during this terrible war. Would it ever end? "Just lean on your old grandmere." The make-shift bed, set up in the sitting room, awaited her and the blessed arrival of Paul’s child. Wobbling like an elderly woman, Simone clutched her abdomen and prepared for the next attack. Simone watched helpless as Nicolette used her free hand to pull back the homemade spread. The old iron bed creaked when she eased herself onto its side, still clinging to her grandmere’s sturdy shoulders. Pulling her legs up to the feather mattress, Nicolette helped her slide them onto the bed and under the lightweight covers. "Mon dieux!" Nicolette said, her hands massaging the small of her back as she straightened to her full five feet five inches. A wave of guilt encompassed Simone. Why was she such a burden? "You rest now, no?" "What is wrong? Is it time?" Simone asked, rolling into a fetal position as another pain engulfed her. She rocked back and forth. Pressure built behind her eyes as a tear rolled onto her cheek, the intense pain almost unbearable. "Oui, ma cherie, it is time." She pulled her granddaughter around to face her. "Hold on to me." Simone gripped her hand until the pain subsided. "You will be all right, no? I need to get the doctor." "Oui, grandmere. I will be okay," she said, gazing lovingly at the woman who'd raised her since her fourteenth birthday. That day her parents had driven to Paris to buy her a present and they died instantly in a head-on collision. Ever since, her grandmere protected her, at times with her own life. The sweet scent of honeysuckle drifted through the open door with the cool summer’s breeze, distracting her from the agonizing moments that lay ahead. As the winds blew harder the room’s light dimmed, indicating clouds had formed. The smell of rain was in the air. Before the next surge of pain, her last thought was of the doctor, hoping he didn't get caught in the storm. "Aagghh," she screamed. Her arms wrapped around her waist and her legs drew up to ride it out. A dull ache began in her back. Nicolette ran back into the room, swift for her sixty-eight years. "The doctor . . . there was no answer. I yelled at Yasmine, she will find him." Clearing her throat, she continued. "If she does not, your old grandmere can do it, no?" Nicolette prepared for the birth. Lifting up the mattress, she shoved something under it but Simone couldn't tell what it was. "What are you doing, Grandmere?" "Putting a knife under your bed." "Why?" "Ma cherie, you should know. It will help cut your pain," she said matter-of-factly. "Now leave me alone so I can get things ready." Opening a closet, she brought out a large pot, filled it with water and put it on the stove to boil, then tore a sheet into ten inch strips. Simone noticed Nicolette through the doorway when she turned and smiled, her eyes twinkled while her hands stayed busy. Pride swelled in Simone’s chest when she returned her grandmere’s smile with one of her own, shifting her eyes over the small, round, nondescript woman. Lingering traces of black lined her wavy gray hair, framing her face and softening the lines that hard work and time had etched around her mouth and eyes. Nicolette checked Simone. "Any time, now, ma cherie. Relax between pains, then push as the next one starts. I can see the hair on the child’s head," she said. Walking around and sitting on the bed’s edge, she massaged Simone’s shoulders, helping her to relax. "Promise me, Grandmere." "What, ma cherie?" Combing her fingers through her hair, she gazed affectionately into Simone’s eyes. "If something happens t--" "Hush. I will not have talk like--" "Sil vous plait!" she begged. "Hear me out. I need you to do this for me." After Nicolette nodded her head in agreement, Simone continued. "I promised Paul I would name our first born, should she be a girl, after his grandmere Kathleen." "And should the child be a boy?" Simone thought she’d taken leave of her senses; her grandmere had never missed predicting an unborn child’s sex. "I know. I know I told you it would be a girl, but I could be wrong. It happened once before." "Name him after his papa," she voiced proudly before the next pain ripped through her, leaving her exhausted and perspiring. Damp strands of hair lay plastered to her forehead. Tears fell to the soiled sheet, seeping into the lumpy mattress. She stared at the white paint-peeled walls, wondering if she'd get through this night of torture. "One or two more pushes and Kathleen or Paul . . ." she chuckled, " . . . will be making a grand entrance." Nicolette smiled fondly. Biting on her bottom lip, the taste of blood dripped onto her tongue as the next wave overcame her. Nicolette, with knees down on the foot of the bed, pushed Simone’s legs against her, helping her to thrust the baby out. A throaty laugh of relief rolled off her tongue as she felt the pressure release. Sprinkles of perspiration dotted her nose and upper lip. "Let me see, Grandmere." Pulling herself up on the bed, she craned her neck, veering her gaze around her legs. "The baby is all right, no?" The sound of the baby's wail brought stinging tears to her eyes. "Oh, ma cherie, your Kathleen, she is beautiful." Tears of joy sprang from her eyes when her grandmother lay the baby in her arms. Throwing her head back, she said a prayer of thanks. Simone watched her grandmere through the doorway while she cleaned the child in a tub of warm, soapy water, wrapped her in a towel and then brought Kathleen to lay beside her. She unwrapped the beautiful baby girl with blonde sprigs of hair like her papa’s spread upon her head. A finger clutched hers in a tight grip as the infant slept in her arms. Gazing lovingly at the child, she caressed her little fingers and toes. Everything seemed to be where it should be. She was perfect in every way. Wincing, the dull ache that started in her back accelerated into something more intense. Simone ignored it. It would go away, she had no doubt. While her hand glided over Kathleen’s head, she laid her hair evenly while curls sprang forth as they dried one by one. Shock filled Simone’s heart, suffocating her when she felt another pain worse than the others. Afraid she’d crush her newborn as she wriggled in the old bed, she screamed in a loud, throaty voice, "Grandmere!" Taking the child from Simone’s arms, Nicolette took the baby into the next room where she could sleep soundly. Then she came back to check her granddaughter, who clutched the sheets and writhed from one side of the iron-framed bed to the other. "Ma cherie, I am here. Your grandmere is here. I am going to check you. Try . . . straighten for me, for just one second." Simone did as she asked. Waves of pain pounded her, one after another, her mouth dry and her lips parched. "Another child, ma cherie, another child! They must have been close in the womb or I would've foreseen this, no?" Nicolette rattled on with surprise evident upon her face. The sheets were soaked with her perspiration as the pains never let up. Her hair, now matted to her head, smelled sour, turning her stomach. "Please, grandmere . . . get Paul. Paul should be here." Exhaustion overtook her as she lost consciousness. * * * Nicolette ran back into the kitchen as fast as her arthritic legs would carry her, found the number Paul had given them in case of an emergency, and called. The already tiny kitchen seemed smaller as she waited for someone to answer, the walls closing in around her. The faded, torn wallpaper, and plaster peaking out beneath, donned the walls. She gazed around, taking inventory of the basic appliances to pass the time—a stove to cook and an ice box to keep their food cool. "This is Corporal William Sanford. May I help you?" "Major Paul Lawson, Jr., tout de suit, sil vous plait. Circonstance." "Excuse me. Major Paul Lawson, Jr., what? "I am sorry. Major Paul Lawson, Jr., right away, please. It ees ah-emergency." Nicolette wiped the wisp gray hair from her forehead with the back of her hand, feeling the damp perspiration. "I’m sorry, ma'am, Major Lawson isn’t available." Nicolette couldn’t believe her ears. This was no time for the military to be uncooperative. "He has to be. His wife, she is in labor. We have to reach him." "You’re kin to him then. I’m sorry to inform you, but Paul Lawson had a head injury a couple of months ago." Nicolette’s knees went weak, her pulse raced and her heart fluttered. "Is he dead? Will he be all right?" Her voice rasped, weakened from coaching Simone. When her throat closed, she gasped for air. "He was listed in stable condition when they transported him to London, and in good condition when they shipped him out stateside." "Oh, no. Why did he go to London? Why not here in Paris, close to his wife?" Her hand flitted to her throat, playing with the gold cross--a present from Pierre, her late husband. "They sent him to London where he saw a surgeon for his head injuries, and then he was transferred to a VA Hospital somewhere in the States." "But his wife, she is in labor, she is having a hard time of it. She needs her husband to be with her . . . t-to comfort her. Simone is asking for him. Simone, she could die. You can do something, no?" Nicolette kept an eye on her granddaughter and an ear keened to hear so much as a whimper, should she need her. "What is his wife's name again?" "Simone Dion Lawson. Please hurry." The sound of the dropped phone reverberated, and she jerked it away. Rubbing her ear, she raised it again to listen for the corporal's return. His voice changed to one of suspicion. "I'm sorry, ma’am. I've said too much already." "But, Simone is his wife. Why was she not notified?" "We have no record of any such marriage." "But Paul said this was the number to call if we needed him," she pleaded, desperation gripping her. "Major Lawson undoubtedly didn't go through the proper channels for taking a French wife. Without the necessary authorization from the Colonel, I can't help you. I may be court-martialed for what I’ve already said. I'm sorry." Nicolette felt the corporal didn’t believe her. "I don’t mean any disrespect, ma’am, but we get this all the time, someone claiming to be married to an American. We have to have laws and channels for a soldier to marry someone from another country. I’m sorry, but I can’t say any more." "Imbecile!" Nicolette yelled after she slammed the phone back into it's holder. When she returned to the bed, Simone still lay unconscious--her face distorted. A gray pallor covered her normally dark complexion. Nicolette jerked her head around to the door when a loud boom sounded, followed by a streak of lightning that darted across the sky and brightened it for a moment. Rain drops pelted through the door as she struggled to close it against the gale-like winds. Back at her bedside, she clutched Simone’s hand in her own, kneading her long, slender fingers, wondering what she would do and how she would tell Simone about her husband. Long, dark hair glistened around her heart-shaped face. The nightdress clung to her granddaughter’s heaving chest, showing signs of labored breathing. "Mon dieux! Wake up, my child." Unsure what to do next, she paced the floor, stopping at intervals to check Simone’s progress. A loud pounding sounded at the door. Twisting around, she stopped her pacing before the blazing fire. The sound splintered through the crackle of the flames licking at the logs. Nicolette crossed herself with her hand and said a fervent prayer as she turned the door handle. "Please let it be her! Let it be Yasmine with the doctor." Swinging the door open, wild wind swept large drops of rain through the threshold along with Yasmine Linski’s large frame. Relief flooded her soul, permeating every pore on her body. Looking past her friend, she saw no one else. Her hope plummeted. "Is the doctor coming? Did you find him?" Her voice quivered with despair. "Oh Nicolette, I am so sorry. It seems he has gone somewhere on an emergency. But, I can help. You know I have assisted in a number of deliveries throughout the years." They gazed at each other fondly. It was just like Yasmine to help. Nicolette could always count on her friend in a time of need. "But we have our own emergency here! What are we going to do? Simone and the baby could die." Pacing the floor, her unshed tears stung her eyelids. Never had she been this afraid, not even when she lost her own baby forty-five years ago. Yasmine draped an arm around her. "Calm down, now. Let me take a look at her. Where do you have her . . . upstairs?" Nicolette looked into her friend’s wise, gray eyes--eyes that had dulled with age. The two of them had been together for fifty years. White hair clung to Yamine’s face, soaking wet from the rain. The woman had been running around the village in her night clothes, searching for a doctor for Simone. Love filled Nicolette’s heart for her best friend. "You are right. Getting hysterical will help no one. Believe me, I am happy to have any help I can get. It is . . . just that I counted on the doctor being here." "Remember, this is your first family member since Nicole gave birth to Simone. I understand how overwhelming it is, especially when it’s your own grandchild. Now, where is Simone?" she asked, her head shifting right and left around the small room. Nicolette saw the old battered, threadbare couch and wooden rocking chair as she followed her friend’s gaze. A small regret gripped her--one that never held her thoughts for long. "Is she in there?" Yasmine pointed around the door leading to the kitchen. "I made her a bed in the small sitting room, off the kitchen, so we would not have to climb the stairs afterwards." The two hugged, clinging to each other and saying a little prayer to help them through the next few hours. They went to Simone’s bedside. Yasmine checked her. "It is as you said. Let her rest while she can. When the next pain hits, we’ll go to work." "I appreciate your support. I do not understand why I went to pieces. I have delivered babies since I can remember." Yasmine squeezed Nicolette to her bosom once more. "Now, now. Your feelings are only natural." She clasped her shoulders in a comforting gesture as they walked together to Simone’s door. "I am sure Loretta’s still born is causing some of your anxiety, but there was nothing any of us could do for the child." "Perhaps you are right." Just then a baby whimpered as if dreaming. "What was that?" "Ma cherie, that is Kathleen, Simone’s first born. She is having twins." "Twins! How wonderful. Mon Dieux!" Yasmine’s eyes twinkled and she clapped her hands together in joy before bringing them to rest on her mouth. "I have already put her in her crib in the room adjoining Simone’s, and she is sleeping like a little angel." An errant strand of hair fell into her eyes and she pushed it away. "Simone, her pain subsided long enough for me to give the child a quick cleaning." Suddenly Simone’s cry rang through the house, a loud, shrill sound like the cry of a lost soul. ~CHAPTER 2~ Normandy, France 1945 Simone Dion Lawson Nicolette ran to her granddaughter’s bedside, watching her clutch her abdomen. Another shriek ripped from her throat, an earsplitting pitch that could wake the deaf. "It's okay, honey. Yasmine is here to help." "Mrs. Linki . . ." Simone reached out and clutched her hand, and started to cry as another pain severed through her belly and continued as if it would never end. Simone thrashed about the bed. Mrs. Linki stifled her own scream, covering her hand over her mouth as she tried to hide the horror on her face, but Simone saw her when she eyed the blood soaked-towel under her bottom. Her grandmere’s friend balled it up and rushed to the bathroom. Simone glared at the bright red drops that trailed behind her on the floor. "That is part of me." Her words and scream joined into one as yet another pain hit, her abdomen contracted and blood gushed out onto the bed sheets. She smelled the rank, foul odor of the bed liners. Simone gave a gasp and then a cry just before she passed out. When she regained consciousness, she felt the fear generating in the room, not only from herself, but from her grandmere and Yasmine. Both were at their wits end with the baby not wanting to be born. "Nicolette, brace Simone's legs and I will hold her shoulders. When her next pain comes, we will help her push the baby out. "Grandmere," she whispered. "Oui, darlene. Grandmere’s here." "Terrible . . . pain . . . getting . . . worse . . . I can not . . . no more . . . get Paul." Nicolette rounded the bed, leaned down and whispered in her ear, "Simone . . . you have to help us, no? Please, stay awake. You have got to keep pushing. There is a second child waiting to be born." "Too tired . . . want Paul. Sil vous plait . . . Paul." "He's on his way, my little one. Just hold on." Simone had another pain and Nicolette ran back around to brace her legs. "That's it, a little more. Push." Simone released a screech, a blood curdling scream, causing chills to run over her body. "Grandmere, I am dying. Please . . . get Paul." Nicolette frowned. "No, ma cherie. Your old grandmere would not let that happen." Her voice quivered and she didn’t look as confident as her words implied. Something was definitely wrong. Simone felt herself drifting into a long, dark hole, on the verge of losing sentience again. Her own voice sounded weak. Every word she spoke was slurred. How much longer could she hold on? Something had to be done. Yasmine continued to sit behind Simone, supporting her and helping her push since her condition had long ago deteriorated at a fast rate. But, it was no use, Simone thought as she sailed into the ocean of oblivion. * * * "Oh, ma cherie, no," Nicolette said, shaking Simone’s legs, trying to wake her. But her eyes only fluttered open slightly and then closed again. "Rise her up, Yasmine." Yasmine gripped her shoulders, pushing her, but her head only rolled from side to side. Rounding the bed, Nicolette sat on the side, put her hands on either side of Simone’s cheeks and slapped her gently to arouse her, her face falling from one hand to the other. Nothing worked. Focusing her attention on the unborn child, Nicolette said, "Something is holding the baby back." The newborn’s stubbornness reminded her of her sweet, dead daughter, Nicole Sheradan Dion. That’s when she decided, unless Simone objected, the baby’s name would be, Nicole Dion Lawson. "Yasmine, the child is turned right, but her head will not clear the birth canal so I can pull her free. Nicole's head is smaller than Kathleen's. She should be able to move out easily." Yasmine shrugged, indicating she’d never seen anything like it either. "You’ve named the child, and what a pretty name. Now, if we can get her out." Nicolette couldn't figure out the problem. She was afraid of losing Simone or Nicole, or maybe even both if she didn't do something quick. "We’ll have to do it for her," Yasmine announced. As time passed, Simone lost more blood and drifted in and out of awareness. There was no more time to spare. Nicolette took another look, seeing the baby’s head moving outward some. She took a firm grip of the child's head, and then the shoulders, while Yasmine held the mother-to-be up. Determination took over, gripping Nicolette’s heart like a wrench. When Simone had another pain, she knew it had to happen then and so she pulled with all her might. "Push, Yasmine, push her forward, now." It was almost morning before Nicole's little head cleared the birth canal enough to see the problem. Storms had long blown away with the wind. The umbilical cord was wrapped around the baby’s neck, and she’d turned a shade of blue. At any moment her little heart could give out. Moving as fast as lightning, Nicolette worked frantically to remove the cord. She finally got it, but Nicole wasn't breathing. With the child still attached to its mother, she took the small, lifeless form into her hands, turned her over face down on the bed, supporting her face off the sheets and massaged, then patted her tiny back. She slapped the soles of her feet and then shook her. All failed. "What else can I do?" she asked with tears raining down her cheeks." "I saw Doctor Deveraux hold a newborn upside down and pat the infant on its back a few months ago." "It worked, no?" she asked urgently. "Oui." Doing as Yasmine instructed, a huge clog of mucus flew out of Nicole’s mouth and onto the wooden floor. Bending her face to the baby’s, she didn’t feel the warm breath she’d expected to feel. "I’m going to try one more thing." She looked up to the ceiling. "God in your almighty wisdom, help me, please." Yasmine rounded the bed to help her friend. Nicolette cut the cord, and they zealously, although gently, lowered the baby to the floor where Nicolette covered the little mouth with her own, breathing life into the infant, her heart crying in pain. Nicole gasped, gulped her first breath of air, and then wailed louder than any child they’d ever heard. Tears of joy engulfed them as Nicolette and Yasmine cried in unison with relief. "We have another baby, Simone! Another baby girl!" Simone moaned, her eyes fluttering open, a tear rolled from the corner of her eye and a smile split her lips. Kathleen slept peacefully in her crib through it all, un-knowing of the horrifying near death of her mother and twin sister. Nicolette changed and cleaned Simone and her bed things while Yasmine washed Nicole. Then she gave Simone some warm milk, adding in her homemade remedy of herbs to help her sleep and rest. God knows she deserved it after the fight she had put up to save her child, as well as herself. Nicolette checked on the twins who were sleeping peacefully. Their names suited them, for Kathleen's complexion and features were more American like her father's, and Nicole resembled Simone at birth. A little smaller than Kathleen, but, still the two had the distinguishing likeness of most twins. Nicole's wrinkled, little blue-tinged face showed her dramatic arrival into the world. * * * Simone awakened ten hours later, again asking for Paul. Nicolette hated to lie to her, but she didn't have the heart to tell her what she had learned from the corporal. "Ma cherie, I am so sorry. He could not be here. The air-force hasn't been able to locate him, yet. But I am sure they will send him home as soon as they find out where he is." "But Grandmere, he missed the birth of his daughters. Paul, he will be disappointed." "Things have a way of working out. Don't worry yourself about that now. You need your rest. Let me fix you something to eat so you can get your strength back. You need to build that back up, no?" Nicolette leaned over her, brushing her long, dark brown hair off her face, caressing her cheek as she did. "Can you bring me Kathleen and--" Puzzlement washed over her face. "What will I name the other one? I wish Paul were here." "Please forgive me, Simone. I took the liberty of naming her even before she was born. She was so stubborn that she reminded me of your dear, sweet mother, my very own daughter. So, I named her Nicole. You can change it if you wish." "No grandmere. That is an appropriate name for her. Now I will feed Nicole and Kathleen. They must be starved. I slept too long. They need their strength, too, and I want them to look beautiful when their papa arrives." Nicolette’s heart lurched as guilt filled her very soul. "I fed them a little goat's milk. I want you to promise me you will go right back to sleep after you feed them." "I promise." * * * Simone, although weak, felt wonderful holding her two infants to her bosom, their little faces wrinkling as they suckled. Her heart soared like an eagle into the big blue skies as she counted each and every finger and toe on each one of them. Both girls seemed content as they snuggled closer to their mother, both competing for the warmth of her love. After they finished feeding, Kathleen, and then Nicole fell asleep in Simone's arms. She smiled at them tenderly with adoration. Nicolette took them back to their crib so Simone could take a nap while she cooked them something to eat. After the adults had their fill of dinner, Yasmine came to sit with Simone and the twins while Nicolette rested. Nicolette went to her bed, but sleep was beyond her grasp as she did nothing but toss and turn with guilt and worry. What will happen when she finally tells Simone the truth about Paul? How could he walk out on them and unbenounced to him, his children—without a word?   Sign My Guestbook View My Guestbook More Excerpts:   Read blurbs or find other sites from my home page.  Over 400 links to other reader and writer sites.  Enjoy!