You're the One (a Bistro La Bohème novella)

Chapter 3: Book Club

The Clandestine Book Club embarked on its third day. The first two days, Natalie had been excited and anxious in equal measure, her perception heightened by a sense of transgression. But today was different. Today, she didn’t worry about being caught. She knew she could do this. As it happened, she was beginning to turn their act of civil disobedience into a reassuring routine—exactly what little children needed and loved. Even the rebellious nap-skipping ones.

As soon as the dormitory went quiet—barring a snore or two—Natalie made a sign, and four pajama-clad munchkins tiptoed into the adjacent room.

“Mademoiselle Legrand, can I go pee?” Téo whispered.

“Of course,” she whispered and helped him into his little sneakers. “Go. Just don’t run, OK? We mustn’t wake the other children.”

Unlike this batch, most of the kids in her group needed and enjoyed their afternoon nap.

Five minutes later Téo joined his little friends on the floor cushions. In spite of their tender age, the children were remarkably disciplined—they knew what was at stake. If madam director caught them, she’d make them nap again and she’d tell their teacher off.

So they sat quietly, eyes brimming with excitement, while Natalie distributed the books. A hardback about princesses for Samira, a coloring pad and crayons for Adèle, a sticker book for Téo, and a book about cars and trains for Thomas. A few minutes later, the club was in full swing.

It had all started on Monday when Madame Blanc begged Natalie to allow her daughter to skip the mandatory nap.

At first, Natalie tried the party line. “I’m sorry, but it’s the policy of the Lafayette School that all children in the Small Section should nap.”

“But the nap is more than an hour long!” Madame Blanc exclaimed. “My daughter stopped napping when she turned three in May. She’s lost the habit over the past five months.”

“I understand. And, believe me, I sympathize with her. I’ve got three more like her in my group. They can’t sleep no matter how hard they try. They get so bored during nap time.”

Madame Blanc gave her a beseeching look. “Can’t you do something?”

“How about I talk to madam director?” she suggested.

“I already tried that. And got a long lecture on how it’s for my child’s good, how she knows better than I do, and how this nursery school is the best in Paris. In short, the answer was no.”

Natalie concentrated on not sneering at the spot-on summary of the director’s pedagogic philosophy.

Madame Blanc let out a deep sigh. “Adèle hates the nap time, and she dreads school because of it. Every morning it’s tears and struggle to drag her here.”

Natalie was taken aback. “Oh. I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

And that was when she thought of the secret book club. It was a risk, but one she was prepared to take. It wouldn’t get her fired. The worst that would happen if they got caught would be a roasting from the director. Natalie could live with it.

After the children got engrossed in their books, she sat on the floor and watched the perfect little angels. In less than ten minutes their attention spans would run out and they’d start fidgeting and making noise. But she was prepared—she had a big book with pictures and lovely stories. They’d discuss the stories, and then she’d return them to the dormitory for a little rest. Her rest.

But right now, all four presented a picture of creative concentration. Thomas was humming car sounds. Samira was so absorbed, her tongue was sticking out. Natalie watched them, struggling with the urge to ruffle their hair and kiss their soft cheeks. A familiar yearning rose inside, filling her heart to the brim and moistening her eyes. She was so ready to be a mother. God, what she wouldn’t give to have a child of her own to hug to her chest, a wide-eyed bundle of love.

But she had to be patient. After yesterday’s debacle with Fred, she needed to retreat and do what it took to repair the damage. She was lucky to have him.

And he didn’t want to be a father.

She could only hope that one day he would.