What Family Means Part 6

It didn't mean she couldn't find the same level of intimacy with anyone else, did it?

So far she hadn't. But she was still young.

She snorted and heaved her book bag higher on her shoulder.

Pretty pathetic that she compared college men to a boy she'd known in Buffalo.

Buffalo.

Ha! Will's expression had said it all. He'd never expected her to amount to anything, much less run into her here, of all places. Although a small, hidden part of her was saddened by that, part of her was exuberant.

She'd far exceeded everyone's expectations, even her own.

One of her favorite things about Paris beckoned, and she stopped at a cafe, ordering coffee and a croissant. The waiter sent her an appreciative glance.

Debra gave him the smile she'd perfected over the summer. It was her "thanks for the thought but no chance, pal" smile. His own smile faded and he turned away.

She sipped her coffee and gazed at the people strolling by her table. Since it wasn't raining, she sat outside to soak up the sun, reveling in the sparkling fountain across the street.

She was far away from the days of survival in Buffalo, living with mom in their one-bedroom duplex.

Poor Mom. She'd done the best she could. Eventually she'd met a man who was able to offer her companionship as well as help her out financially. They lived out in Crabapple Lake, a suburb Debra hadn't even heard of when she was a kid. She thought life began and ended in her city neighborhood.

With Will.

She looked at the potted flowers on the cafe's terrace. The yellow blooms seemed to be stretching for their last moments of sunlight before winter set in.

She liked the weather here, much milder than Boston, certainly more so than Buffalo.

Will hadn't realized how smart she was. She hadn't, either, until her SAT scores came back and she'd found out she could go to just about any college she wanted. Harvard was an obvious choice but she'd settled on Mount Holyoke. It seemed more intimate, and the all-girl environment enticed her. She'd hoped to find the sister she'd never had. A girlfriend who wasn't intimidated by her intelligence.

Amy had stepped into that void in her life. The girl from Iowa had shared her sense of adventure and wide-eyed wonder at their good fortune in freshman year. They'd both left impoverished situations, ending up in the Mecca of American education.

And elitism.

Elitism wasn't new to Debra.

She'd met Will's mother.

"What are you doing here? Don't you have a cla.s.s?"

The question ripped her out of her musings.

Amy, also her Parisian flatmate, stood in front of the table, blocking the sunlight.

"No, not until two." She'd lied to Will. Why did that bother her?

"Great. Want to go check out the library?"

"Which one?"

She dropped the appropriate coins on the table and grabbed her backpack. A walk through yet another beautiful building was distinctly preferable to her Buffalo memories.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

October 1972 Paris, France "DEBRA?" Amy called. Amy called.

Amy walked back into the small flat's parlor with the person who'd rung their doorbell.

"Will!"

His presence drew every ounce of her attention.

How had he found her? More important, why?

"I have a cla.s.s a block away in a couple of hours, and I wondered if you'd like to get a cup of coffee with me?"

Amy's polite cough distracted Debra. Only then did she see her friend's curious expression.

"Sorry. Amy, this is Will, Will, my flatmate, Amy." At Amy's arched eyebrow, Debra added, "Will's an old friend from my hometown. We've known each other since we were kids."

"Nice to meet you, Will."

"A pleasure."

Will grasped Amy's hand. Debra was horrified yet intrigued at the stab of jealousy that streaked across her awareness.

Will turned back to her.

"Ready?"

"Let me get my coat." The temperature had started to drop, and the nights required a jacket or heavy sweater.

"Great." His expression was so relaxed, as though he and Debra did this all the time. As though he took girls out all the time.

Stupid jealousy.

Debra ignored Amy's stifled giggles and unspoken questions.

"Later," she muttered to her flatmate as she and Will left.

Debra was grateful for the sting of the cold night air that hit her cheeks as soon as they were outside.

In silent agreement they headed toward the river.

"So, how have your cla.s.ses been going?" Will's expression was one of total concentration on her. Debra had missed their bond more than she'd admitted to herself.

"Great. I still can't believe I'm here. I've always dreamed of studying in Paris, and, well, here I am." She sounded so dumb, so suburban!

She bit her lip to keep from saying anything else inane.

"I know what you mean. It's unreal, isn't it? Paris is so far from Buffalo."

His stride was much longer than hers, but he fell into step next to her. She didn't feel rushed or anxious. It had always been easy between her and Will.

She noticed another mixed-race couple pa.s.sing near them.

"Yes, it sure is far from home." Her voice had a hitch in it she couldn't control.

"Do you go back often?"

They waited to cross the street, and she turned to look at him. He smiled at her. The light in his eyes and the shape of his lips were so familiar to her. Yet different.

This was a more intense version of the Will she'd known. The Will she thought of as her first love.

An intense longing started deep in her belly and spread out through her limbs. Her reaction caught her off guard.

The light changed and Debra broke their eye contact.

She stepped off the curb and struggled to resume their conversation.

"When I was in Boston I'd go back at Christmas. I used to go home at Thanksgiving, too, if I could find a ride. But it's just too far for such a short visit. And with doubling up on my courses, I can't afford all that time away during the school year."

"I hear you." He smiled at her. "And what have you been doing during the summers?"

"I do co-op work to earn spending money." Her cheeks burned and her ire flared. She had nothing to be ashamed of. "I have a full academic ride," she went on to explain, "but I like to have the funds for all the extras." Why did she need to justify herself to him?

Will smiled at her again and the warmth in his eyes made her oblivious to the stiff wind that whisked up leaves on the street.

"I go back home and work at an architecture firm when I have time. These past two summers I've been in cla.s.s, though."

They walked in silence. Of course he was in cla.s.s all the time. His parents were able to afford the best for Will.

"How's your brother?"

"He's doing great, but he's p.i.s.sed off my folks." He looked at her sideways. "Sorry for the cussing."

"I've heard worse." She didn't say that the worst words she'd heard were from her mother. She didn't have to; Will knew.

"How did your brother upset your parents?" She asked the question knowing it didn't take much to anger Will's mother.

"He went to West Point."

"Really?" she asked in surprise.

"Yeah. He wanted to serve his country, but if he'd enlisted it really would've killed Mom and Dad. This was a better choice, although they're still mad at him."

Debra didn't comment.

His family would've expected Jimmy to attend a historically black college or university, as Will had, and wanted him to pursue a respected civilian profession. The military was never part of the plans they had for their children, she was sure.

Will's family was one of the more distressing memories of Buffalo she preferred to leave buried.

She shuddered and shoved her hands deeper into her coat pockets.

"It's getting chilly at night, isn't it?" she murmured. They were on the right bank of the Seine, walking with dozens, possibly hundreds, of others. Yet it felt as it always had with Will.

As though they were the only two people in the universe.

"Spoken like a true Buffalo gal."

They laughed.

"Yeah, where else is 'chilly' just above freezing?"

"Or a 'nice day' any day with sun and less than a foot of snow?" He laughed again. "I've missed our conversations, Deb."

"Me, too." But she didn't want to explore why they hadn't been able to keep in touch. Because, in the end, it always came back to one thing. The chasm between their backgrounds and families.

Several couples pa.s.sed. What did they look like to others? Simply students? Good friends? Or more?

"Did you already eat?" Polite as ever. Thinking of her.

"Yes, Amy and I eat earlier than most Parisians."

"And it's cheaper to eat in."

"You got it." Although she doubted Will had to worry about how much any meal cost, even over here. She noticed how he'd matured since she'd last seen him. His facial features were more chiseled, his body more powerful, more purposeful in its movements.

"Do you eat in or usually go out?"

He shrugged his broad shoulders. "I do whatever's easiest. I basically live on baguettes with ham and cheese. Sometimes I treat myself to a hot meal in one of the cafes at lunch, but not too often."

"Have you tried the student mess?" She found it the most reasonable place to get a decent meal.

"Yeah, but it's not practical for me. I only have one cla.s.s a week near there."

"Have you you eaten, Will?" eaten, Will?"

"Actually, no. Would you mind sitting with me while I dine?"

"That sounds so formal."