Radiant by Liz Heinecke

Author:Liz Heinecke
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2021-02-16T00:00:00+00:00

Scene III

The Accident

1906

Pierre is dead? Dead? Absolutely dead?”

As Marie said the words out loud, something inside her, closer to her belly than her heart, turned to ice. It couldn’t be true. They’d argued a bit that morning, but the day had seemed so perfectly normal. How could her world implode without sending even the tiniest vibration down her spine?

Under a darkening sky still heavy with rain, she’d waited in the garden for his body to arrive, her head so heavy in her hands that she could barely support it. Someone handed her his things: a fountain pen, a wallet, and a set of keys that he’d never again jingle in his pocket. Pierre’s pocket watch had somehow survived the accident and was still ticking. Shivering, she held his possessions in her palm, one at a time, before setting them down gently on her skirt to protect them from the wet surface of the bench.

The carriage carrying his body finally pulled up, and strangers carried Pierre into the house. Marie followed the procession numbly, and when they laid him down, she threw herself across him only to discover that he was still warm. With his eyes closed, she could almost imagine that Pierre was still alive. His fingers had not yet stiffened, and they bent when she grasped them.

But when Marie lifted her head from his chest to kiss his dear face, the illusion was shattered. She saw the wounds, which couldn’t be entirely concealed by the dressings, revealing how badly he’d been hurt and how horribly he’d bled. He must have died instantly, but the fact offered her no comfort whatsoever.

As she stared at his body, she’d wanted to shout at him for being so careless. How many times had she gently reminded him to pay attention as they crossed the chaotic streets of Paris? Had he been lost in one of his daydreams or conjuring a new experiment? Did his legs give out when he stepped off the curb? Was he too weak to respond to the danger? Had he been frightened in those chaotic moments before the wheels struck him? Marie pictured his eyes open, his smile, his sweet face. Had he shouted out, in that grave, gentle voice she knew so well? She couldn’t bear to think about it.

At some point, they pulled her off Pierre’s body and carried him away in order to remove the scarlet-stained clothes. When at last they called to her, she ran up the stairs to find him lying on their bed with a new white bandage concealing his wounds.

She guarded him jealously after that, cursing herself for allowing anyone else to touch him. Beneath the crude wrapping, Marie could just make out his hair. Bone jutted from his beautiful, intelligent forehead, but his face was still sweet and serene, as if he were trapped in a dream.

It had been pouring rain that afternoon, and Pierre’s umbrella was open when he stepped out into the busy intersection near the Pont Neuf and rue Dauphine.

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