Chapter 12
Esmé threw her arms around Carmelita and kissed her fervently on both cheeks before stepping aside so that Jerome could discipline her.
“Don’t you
ever do that
again,” he told her. “You had us worried
sick!”Carmelita said nothing, and instead allowed her head to droop between her small shoulders.
Esmé turned to the policeman who had spent most of the morning scouring the city for her adopted daughter, and smiled. “Thank you for all your help, detective,” she said.
“You’re welcome, Mrs. Squalor,” the policeman said, and tipped his hat to her. “Mr. Squalor.” He nodded at them both, then walked off.
Esmé had spent the entire morning in the bathroom and, as if that hadn’t been bad enough, she’d had to deal with the sudden disappearance of the little girl whom she had grown to love very much on top of it. She was in such a state of hysterical worry that Jerome had been torn between taking her to the hospital and calling the police about Carmelita before his wife insisted that she was fine and that the first thing to do was to find their daughter.
“Well, Carmelita,” Jerome continued in the same firm voice, “what do you have to say for yourself?”
It was a struggle for Carmelita to meet the eyes of her adoptive parents, but somehow she managed. “I’m sorry,” she said in a low, ashamed voice, “for making you worry. It won’t happen again.”
“You see, Jerome?” Esmé said, turning to her husband. “She’s sorry. She’s safe. She’s sound. Can’t we just go home and forget everything?”
“No,” he said. “Carmelita, what you did is inexcusable. If you were upset, then you should have come to us and
told us how you were feeling instead of running away. You could have gotten hurt or worse, and no one would have been able to help you because no one even knew you were missing. I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to be punished for this.”
Esmé looked like she wanted to argue with Jerome, but instead she let him have the last word. It was the first time she had ever decided
not to argue with him.
As soon as they arrived back at the penthouse apartment, Jerome permitted Carmelita to have her breakfast in the kitchen before sending her to her room for the remainder of the day. He didn’t lock her in this time, but told her— firmly —that she was only allowed to leave her room to use the bathroom, and that if she behaved then he would let her out for dinner.
That afternoon when he stopped by her room to bring her some lunch, he was surprised to find her sitting quietly on her bed where she was doing— of all things —studying.
“I thought you might be getting hungry,” Jerome said, setting a tray consisting of a turkey sandwich, a bowl of fruit salad, and a tall glass of milk down on the nightstand, “so I made you some lunch.”
“Thanks,” Carmelita replied, barely glancing up from her notes. “I’ll eat it in a few minutes.”
“What are you doing?”
“Studying. Mr. Remora is giving us a test Monday on all of his stories, and I want to be ready for it. I figured if I’m going to be stuck in this room all day then I might as well make the best of it.”
Jerome nodded. “Well, just don’t study
too hard,” he said.
“I won’t.” Carmelita smiled. “Hey,” she added, turning to Jerome just as he was about to leave. “Do you think you could help me study a little? I want to make sure I’ve got all this memorized.”
Rather surprised by this request, Jerome smiled and sat beside Carmelita on the bed. “Sure,” he replied. “I’d be happy to.”
She handed him her notes and nibbled away at the lunch he had prepared while he asked her questions and she answered them in between bites. Much like Mr. Remora had been, Jerome was also amazed by Carmelita’s diligence, and his face showed it.
“What?” she asked as she popped a piece of cantaloupe into her mouth.
“Nothing,” Jerome said, shuffling the notes and placing them back into their binder. “I’m just thoroughly impressed by your diligence.”
Carmelita laughed. “You and Mr. Remora
both,” she said. “The other day after class, he took me aside and
praised me just for following directions.” She blushed. “It was so weird, not to mention embarrassing.”
Jerome smiled and shook his head. “Well, you have come a long way from the person you were almost a year ago,” he noted.
“You mean before I joined up with Countie and Esmé.”
“Countie?”
“Esmé’s boyfriend,” Carmelita explained. “Count Olaf. She refuses to talk about him. I think it’s because he left us in the Hotel Denouement when it was burning. I know the baby she’s carrying is his, too. I hear Esmé crying at night when she thinks I’m asleep. Don’t tell her I told you though, okay? I don’t think she wants me to know I can hear her cry.”
These were the most words Carmelita had spoken to Jerome since they had met, and it took him a moment to come up with a response. Finally, he said, “Don’t worry. I won’t.”
“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”
Jerome blinked in surprise, and his mouth hung open. “What makes you ask me something like that?”
Carmelita took the binder from him and set it in her lap. “It’s not as if it’s very hard to figure out,” she replied. “You look at Esmé the same way she used to look at Olaf. You follow her with your eyes.”
Jerome blushed deeply at Carmelita’s accusation.
“Have you told her that you love her?” asked Carmelita.
“Many times,” Jerome admitted. “But our relationship is complicated. I am guessing Esmé has never mentioned anything about being married to me before?”
Carmelita shook her head.
“It was more than a year ago,” Jerome began. “I was sitting in the Veritable French Diner, having breakfast, when I was approached by this devastatingly beautiful brunette. She told me her name was Esmé Salinger and that she was an actress. I invited her to sit down with me, and we got to talking. Before I knew it, I had asked her out on a date. After only one evening together, I asked her to marry me.”
Carmelita gasped, her azure orbs widening in astonishment.
“You got married after going out on only one date?” she exclaimed.
“I know it seems sudden,” Jerome admitted, “but I honestly did love her… I still
do. Everyone accused me of being reckless— especially my parents —but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to be with anyone except Esmé.”
“Wow,” was all Carmelita could say.
“It was shortly after we returned from our honeymoon,” Jerome continued, “that I received some horrible news. Two of my dearest friends, Bertrand and Beatrice Baudelaire, had perished in a terrible fire, leaving behind their three children. I wanted to adopt them right away, but Esmé refused my request. Orphans were out at the time, and that was when Esmé was still very attentive to what was in and what was out. Of course, the fact that I was even more passive than I am now didn’t help matters, either.”
“So, what did you do?”Carmelita asked.
“I waited. I thought that if I was patient and didn’t argue with Esmé, then she would eventually see things my way. A month later she received a phone call from one of her associates and came to me with the news that orphans were in, meaning that we could now adopt the three Baudelaire children.
“For a while things seemed to be going along very well.” Jerome frowned. “Then
Gunther appeared in our lives.”
“Gunther?”
“An auctioneer,” Jerome explained. “And one of Olaf’s many aliases. I suspected from the beginning that there was something between him and my wife, but I never said anything because I was afraid of arguing with Esmé. Klaus told me once that arguing could be useful, but I didn’t listen. By the time I realized what was really going on, it was too late, and I ended up losing my wife
and my three children.”
A tear rolled down his cheek then, and he brushed it away quickly, hoping Carmelita wouldn’t notice. She did, though, and in an attempt to ease his pain, she reached over and took his hand.
“That’s why I was so upset when I came into your room this morning and discovered you were gone,” Jerome told her. “I can’t bear to lose anyone else I care about.”
“But you didn’t
lose Esmé,” said Carmelita. “Well, you did, but she came back, didn’t she? Why don’t you try talking to her and telling her how you feel?”
Jerome smiled, and from the pained expression on his face Carmelita could see that it was very difficult for him to hold that smile. “I already did. We decided that reconciling a marriage that was dishonest to begin with would only cause more pain and suffering on both of our parts.”
“I don’t understand… I always thought that to get married, the two people doing it had to
love each other.”
“You’re right,” agreed Jerome. “They do. But our marriage was part of a ploy concocted by Esmé and Olaf in order to gain access to this apartment, which contains a secret passageway leading to the Baudelaire mansion where the sugar bowl was located. That’s the only reason Esmé wanted to marry me.”
Carmelita squeezed his hand. “Do you hate her?” she asked.
“No. No, I don’t. I believe— as I have always believed —that Esmé is a noble person, but was blinded by love and wealth. But I could never,
ever hate her. The fact that she cares so much for you proves that she is still a woman of great nobility. When you ran away, her only concern was finding you and making sure
you were safe before administering to her own needs.”
Carmelita looked uncomfortable by this. “I guess I
have caused a lot of trouble for everyone, haven’t I?”
Jerome shook his head, and his smile seemed to come a little easier as he replied, “Yes, Carmy, you have. But that doesn’t mean you haven’t improved as well.” He reached over and brushed back the bangs from her eyes. “And I can honestly say that I’m very glad to have you in my life.”
Carmelita reached up and wrapped her fingers around Jerome’s wrist. “What about Esmé?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” Jerome said again. “I don’t care for her any less than I did before I suspected her romantic involvement with Olaf. Esmé has been through so much in so short of a time and, being the person I am, I feel it is my responsibility to help her in any way I can. I want to be a father to her child and to you as well. After hearing what you’ve been through, I want to make sure you grow up with a family that loves you.”
Carmelita nodded, feeling the tears beginning to gather at the backs of her eyes. “I love you, too, Jerome,” she said.
It was the first time she had said this to him, and it didn’t feel as awkward as she thought it would.
Reason for Editing: had to fix the html and add a word