Dreams Lost and Found

Chloe breathed in the musty scents of the vintage bookstore as she rushed in from the cold. Gordon, the aging store owner, was just unloading a stack of books onto the counter.

“Aw, Chloe, nice to see you.”

Chloe often stopped by the little shop on her way home from work, even though she rarely could afford anything. Chloe’s mother had been a lover of vintage literature and she grew up listening to her mother read A Girl of the Limberlost, Little Match Girl, The Secret Garden and so many more. As a single parent, her mom had struggled to make ends meet, but she had filled Chloe’s childhood with wonderful adventures from the riches of her treasured books.

“Looking for anything in particular today,” asked Gordon?

“Hmm, maybe.” Actually, not only was it Chloe’s birthday, but she had recently gotten a raise and she intended to treat herself. Chloe’s mother had lost her battle with cancer a few years ago, which meant Chloe’s little apartment had stacks of books in every corner, but she wanted something new. Books were her solace.

Chloe browsed the shelves for about 20 minutes but was empty handed. Then she heard Gordon approach her. In his hand he had a small book, bound in black leather. “It’s supposed to be a novel,” Gordon said, “but it’s written more like a memoir and the author is from here, in Montreal. It was published in 1923, but this copy is full of handwritten notes, supposedly from the author herself.”

Chloe was intrigued. She took the book to an overstuffed chair and opened it to the title page. Dreams Lost. Underneath the title, in a flowing hand, was written, “And Found.” Below that was the authors name - by Colette Astrid Faller. Colette Astrid Faller? Something niggled at the back of Chloe’s mind. Her mother’s middle name was Colette. Well, one of her middle names. Her full name was Margaret Colette Rene Barton, but she went by Maggie.

She began to read and found herself caught up in the story almost immediately. Gordon had said the author was from Montreal, but the book started in Colmar, Germany. The year is 1901 and it’s Colette’s 8th birthday. The perfect little girl’s birthday party, filled with laughter, family, and fun and even a special gift from her father - a silver jewelry box from France with a secret compartment that you opened by turning the pink jewel on the back. At the end of that chapter, Colette had written, “A child blessed.”

The next few chapters continued to describe growing up on a vineyard, with all of the extended family, and seemingly not a care in the world. So different from Chloe’s childhood, which had been Chloe and Maggie against the world. Family gatherings had been rare. She wasn’t sure why her mom had been so estranged from her own parents, but she guessed it had something to do with her birth father. Maggie had rarely talked about him, but Chloe knew enough to know that her grandparents struggled with their daughter’s choices.

Chloe was deep in thought when she startled at Gordon’s voice. “I’m sorry, Chloe, but it is time to close the shop. Are you enjoying the book?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll take it! Sorry, Gordon. Thank you for finding it for me.”

Chloe bought some soup and a bottle of cheap wine on her way home. In the lobby of her apartment building, she stopped to grab her mail. For a brief second she thought there would be a birthday card from her mom, but of course, that was not possible. Even when Chloe had still lived at home, a card always arrived in the mail on her birthday. Chloe felt a pang of loneliness. She wished she had a sibling, or aunt…even a cat. In her sparse little kitchen, she ate the soup with a piece of toast, then changed into some cozy jammies. Minutes later she was snuggled up with a glass of wine, and the little black book.

As she continued her journey through Colette’s life, she found herself fascinated with life on a vineyard. She knew nothing about wine and, according to what was in her glass, probably had poor taste as well. What Chloe loved the most was all the wonderful traditions, especially the Burning of the Canes. Every spring, after the vines were pruned, they would create a huge bon fire. Each person, young and old, would toss a cane on the fire, discarding the old and asking a blessing for the new harvest. Colette wrote about the fun of being able to stay up late and dance around the fire while all the adults drank wine, laughing and saluting the new season. Even at her then tender age of twelve, she and her friends were allowed to have a small glass of wine. In the margin she wrote, “Of course we didn’t like the taste of the wine, but Great Auntie Babs would put a little honey in ours and we felt so grown up.”

Chloe woke with a start. For a moment she was disoriented, then she remembered she had fallen asleep on the couch, reading her knew book. The room was still dark, the sun not yet breaking the horizon, and Chloe, remembering it was Saturday, pulled the blanket back over her shoulders. When she awoke the second time, sun was streaming through the small kitchen window. Chloe sat up and reached down and scooped the book off the floor. The last thing she remembered reading was Colette meeting the new foreman, Andre Dubois. The bookmark had fallen out, but she quickly found the page and read again Colette’s starry-eyed recollection of falling instantly in love with Andre. In the margin Colette wrote, “My dearest Andre, I was smitten the moment I saw you. Your strong arms and the way your hair fell willfully over one eye - stunning green eyes. Ah, you were beautiful, my dear, simply beautiful.” Chloe smiled. She couldn’t really imagine love at first sight. No one had ever swept her off her feet like that.

She paddled to the kitchen and flipped on the coffee. While she toasted a bagel, she thought again of how different her life had been from the one Colette was describing. Her life had not been bad, just never easy. She mused about what it would have been like to grow up on an estate, a place that actually needed a foreman. And, as Colette described it, a bevy of other workers, both in the house and in the vineyard. Colette talked about them all as if they were family and Chloe thought it sounded like a fairy tale. She wondered if the vineyard was still there. She didn’t know why, but she felt some kind of connection with this story. She wanted to keep reading right away, but she forced herself to jump in the shower and run a few errands. By the time she got home, a light snow was falling – the perfect excuse to ignore the cleaning and laundry and delve back into her book.

The next pages were all about the budding romance between Colette and Andre – stolen kisses amongst the vines and secret rendezvous in the barn. Eventually, Andre asks Colette’s father for her hand in marriage. At the bottom of the page, Colette had scrawled, “I was listening outside the door and so afraid my father would say no. When he finally gave his blessing, I burst through the door, tears streaming down my face, and hugged my papa so hard. I loved him more that day than I ever had.”

The year was 1914 and in just a few short months, Colette’s fairy tale world was turned upside down. In June, the Archduke of Austria was assassinated and World War 1 ensued. Andre, like every able-bodied man, was called up to fight. Colette was beside herself, but knew she had to be strong. The next few chapters were hard to read. Tragic losses were a daily occurrence. The vines were decimated, buildings burned to the ground and the German soldiers took over the main house, relegating Colette and her family to the seasonal worker’s meager dwellings. Colette rarely heard any news about Andre but prayed daily for his safe return. Then one day a letter arrived addressed to her. She tore it open and recognized Andre’s handwriting immediately. “My Dearest Colette, Please be brave, my darling. If you are reading this letter, it is because I have been killed.” Colette’s shaking fingers dropped the letter as she sunk to the floor, sobbing. “I will never love again, never, ever again.”

Chloe had tears running down her cheeks. There was something handwritten at the bottom of the page, but she couldn’t focus. She took a deep, shuddering breath and wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

“My Sweet Andre, I want you to know that, while a piece of my heart will always belong to you, I did love again. I met a wonderful man, named Pascal Barton. He has been a kind and generous husband and an even better father to our son, Rene. And now we are grandparents to a very special little girl named Maggie. She is bright, like her father, and stubborn, like me. Forever I’ll cherish our memories. Love. Colette.”

Chloe couldn’t breathe. She read it again. She barely remembered her grandfather, but she knew his name was Rene Barton. How could this possible be? Was Colette her great grandmother? A sob escaped from Chloe’s lips and then nervous laughter. She quickly thumbed through the rest of the book, looking for Colette’s handwritten notes. She couldn’t believe what she read on the last page.

“Dear Maggie, You’re eight years old today. The same age I was when my father gave me this jewelry box. I want you to have it now and to have this book so you can know your family’s history. Maybe someday you can go back to the vineyard. It’s still there and still in the family. Don’t forget about the secret compartment! Love Mamé.”

Chloe flew to the hall closet where there were several boxes of her mother’s things that she had never gone through. By the time she found it, there were things scattered everywhere. She carefully turned the silver box around and there was the pink stone. How could this possibly be? This was her family. How did the book get separated from the jewelry box and, more astonishing, how did it find it’s way back to her? This amazing story was her past and she didn’t even know it. This time when the sobs rose up in her throat, she let them come. She cried for her mother and for the grandparents she barely knew and for Colette, who lost so much and yet found her way back to joy and hope. This was her family.

Chloe dried her face and slowly turned the pink stone. Suddenly a hidden drawer popped open. To her surprise, it was filled with coins. Some looked like they were gold and they all looked very old. Chloe had no idea what those coins were worth, but a thought was starting to wiggle it’s way to the front of her mind. Maybe, just maybe, they would be worth enough to get her to Colmar, to the family vineyard.

Epilogue

Chloe sipped her wine as she gazed out on a full moon illuminating the vines, now heavy with grapes. She had been flabbergasted to find out the coins were worth $20,000. Her cousin, Theo, stood next to her.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“I think it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” replied Chloe.

“You know, Chloe, you belong here. We are your family. This is your history.”

Chloe breathed in the fragrant, earthy smells around her.

After a long moment, she said, “I just might take you up on that.”