Читать книгу French Escape - Barbara McMahon - Страница 10

THE NEXT MORNING Jeanne-Marie was in the midst of preparing individual quiches for her guests when Matthieu Sommer walked into the kitchen. She looked up, feeling a spark of delight, which she firmly and immediately squashed.

“I can serve breakfast in the dining area,” she said, finishing the last of the crusts and carefully lifting portions into the miniature pie pans she used for the individual servings. Guests usually loved her quiches; her crusts were light and flaky, the warm filling an assortment that so many seemed to enjoy.

“Here’s fine,” he said, sitting at the same place as yesterday.

“This is a working kitchen.”

“Is there a problem?”

She frowned, wondering how to convey how self-conscious he made her without sounding like an idiot. Please, go in the other room before I lose sense of what I’m doing and just stare at you, wouldn’t go over very well. Sighing softly, she began to make his hot chocolate. Taking the mug to the table, she placed it down in front of him. His hand reached to hold her arm. “Is there a problem? “

The tingling that coursed through her warmed deep inside. She took a shaky breath. “I guess not. I’m not used to people being in here while I’m working.”

There was a definite, huge, mega problem—she was so aware of him as a man, and her own dormant needs as a woman, she couldn’t think of anything else. His hand was warm on her arm. The scent of him had her own senses roiling. She’d give anything to be brave enough to sit down with him and forget about the rest of her guests while she learned every aspect about his life she could discover.

“I’ll be as quiet as a mouse,” he said solemnly.

“Not a good analogy to use in a commercial kitchen,” she said, reluctant to pull her arm from his gentle grasp. His thumb brushed against her skin lightly. It sent shivers up her back. With that, she turned away and scurried behind the high counter, doing her best to remember she was in charge of the inn and he was a guest who would be leaving soon. Not a man to get interested in. No someone to start a relationship with.

The thought stunned her. She’d never thought to fall in love again. She’d adored Phillipe. They’d had a wonderful marriage. Too soon over, but she’d never expected to become involved with another man.

Then, she’d never met a man who piqued her interest as much as Matthieu Sommer. Or was as different from Phillipe as he could be. Where her husband had been friendly and outgoing, easily making friends wherever he went, Matt was quiet, kept to himself and seemed to ignore the rest of the world.

“The quiche won’t be ready for a half hour. I have some fresh croissants and breads,” she said. “I can make you an omelet.”

He checked his watch. “I’d planned to leave early, but my friend Paul called last night. He and I’ll climb together today. I’m meeting him in Marseilles. We’re tackling a cliff on that side. But he won’t get up until I pound on his door, if I know him. He was probably up until after two.”

Jeanne-Marie looked at him. “So why didn’t you stay in Marseilles?”

“This place suits me.”

“Mmm.” If he’d never come, she’d never have met him. That wouldn’t have been all bad. She didn’t like the sensations that rose whenever he was near. It reminded her of all she’d lost. And filled her with a vague yearning for things that couldn’t be.

Matt watched Jeanne-Marie as she worked. She seemed to enjoy cooking. She could make so much more money if she expanded her meals. Not everyone was so talented or content with less than she might achieve.

Thinking about it, he realized she’d not changed her attitude toward him, either, once she’d learned about his family’s situation. She still treated him as any guest, no more sympathy or less than for any other. At least she didn’t tiptoe around, afraid to say anything that might remind him of his wife and son.

Jeanne-Marie was that rare individual who seemed genuinely content with life as it was. Too bad he couldn’t feel the same way. The raw grief that wouldn’t fade drove him. He wanted to escape his thoughts and find some change in climbing, in pushing himself to the limit. Sleep then would be uneventful and deep.

“Here you go. And I warmed a croissant for you,” she said, placing in front of him a heaping plate of cheese, pepper and onion omelet, along with a fluffy croissant.

“Thank you. When do you eat breakfast?”

“Before I prepare, or I’d be nibbling all morning.”

He began to eat, enjoying the flavors that burst in his mouth. After a moment, he said, “I might eat dinner in Marseilles before returning tonight.”

“I won’t worry then if you’re late back. The center doors are left open for any guest coming in after I go to bed.”

“You’d worry otherwise?” Now that was interesting.

She looked up and shrugged. “I’d worry about any guest climbing those cliffs.”

He ate, finishing the delicious breakfast she’d prepared. Drinking the last of his hot chocolate, he debated asking for another cup. Instead he put it down and looked at her.

“I could take your son on an easy climb tomorrow afternoon, if you’d permit.” He’d thought about it long into the night last night. Being with Alexandre was different from being with Etienne, yet on one level it was the same. Both young boys exploring their worlds. It wouldn’t hurt him to spend a few hours helping in that exploration.

“Why would you do that?” she asked, studying his face as if looking for clues.

“For my son.”

“Oh.” She glanced away and nodded. “Then if you think Alexandre won’t be a pest, I guess we could take advantage of your expertise. I don’t want him to try more than he can do. But he pesters his grandfather all the time to take him climbing. Maybe trying it once or twice will have him lose interest.”

“Or capture his interest even more.”

“There is that risk.”

“You’re a good mother to let him try this when I know you don’t approve.”

She continued working. “It’s not that I disapprove so much as I don’t want him hurt. I think all mothers feel that way. But I’m trying very hard not to be overprotective. If I had my way we’d live someplace totally flat where the most exciting thing he could think of would be to ride a bicycle.”

Matt nodded. He remembered Marabelle being concerned when Etienne rode his pony. The boy had loved that pony. And he’d only fallen a couple of times. Nothing to dim the delight he took in riding.

Surprisingly, once they agreed on a time, Matt felt a spark of anticipation. Today’s climb would be challenging. But tomorrow’s might be more rewarding.

Much as he might like to stay for another cup of chocolate and talk to Jeanne-Marie, he had agreed to meet Paul early. He hoped his friend was ready to climb and not handicapped by a hangover.

Jeanne-Marie watched Matt leave with mixed feelings. He invaded her space, yet when he left it seemed emptier than before. She couldn’t figure out how to keep him out of the kitchen. She felt disturbed by his presence. The disruption to her carefully planned life, the extra excitement of being fully alive when he was around made her restless and agitated when he left. She didn’t want to come alive, to feel love and then loss. Better to stay in a state that didn’t allow strong emotional feelings. It would be safer.

Shaking off her feelings, she tried to draw contentment from her baking. Her life was full, satisfying and suited her and Alexandre perfectly.

As the day progressed, Jeanne-Marie went through her normal routines. Two couples checked out. Another two were due to arrive. When her friend Michelle called to see if they were attending La Fête de la Victoire de 1945, Jeanne-Marie was grateful for a break.

“I’d like that. Alexandre has seen the posters I put up and has been plaguing me about when we’re going.”

“The parade begins at eleven. I thought we could meet at the corner where we met last year.”

“Perfect. He’ll be thrilled.”

The celebration was a big deal in small St. Bart. Phillipe told her how often his parents had brought him to stay with his grandparents for the fete. He’d enjoyed it as a child, much as Alexandre loved it now. They’d only shared one fete here after they married. Now attending each year was special, doing something he’d done. She could tell her son about his father, and continue his memory as best she could.

Her thoughts went to Matthieu Sommer. What would he do that day, another climb? Holidays must be especially lonely for single people, she thought. And especially sad to remember them spent with loved ones now gone. The first without Phillipe had been hard—but she had Alexandre. Matt had no one.

She could invite him to join them.

She caught her breath at the thought. The last couple of years, she’d invited her guests to enjoy the fireworks from the veranda. But she’d never mingled with them during the day.

Late in the afternoon, Adrienne called.

“Antoine and I can come for Alexandre next Monday afternoon,” she offered.

“I’ll bring him up. I have some shopping I’d like to do in Marseilles. What time works best?”

“Of course we’d like him to come for as long as possible, so early morning, but I know you have things to do at the inn. Come when you can.”

“Let’s plan on early afternoon, then. Anything special going on I should make sure he has proper clothes for?”

“A swimsuit and sturdy shoes. We’ll take a ramble in the park,” Adrienne said.

The seaside park in Marseilles was a favorite of Alexandre’s.

“He’ll love that.”

She hung up, happy for Alexandre to have his grandparents so near. Yet she was already missing him for when he left to visit. Usually she let him stay a few days at a time. Every so often his grandparents asked for longer, but so far Alexandre hadn’t pushed for any longer visits. And she missed him too much when he was gone to agree.

She finished up her work and went to take Alexandre for a swim. He was going to be thrilled with all the plans.

It was after ten o’clock that night when Jeanne-Marie went to close up the French doors. Rene had left a half hour ago. All her guests except Matt had returned. The last couple had just gone up. How late was he planning to be? Had he decided to stay the night in Marseilles rather than drive back? If so, wouldn’t he have called to let her know?

Then she heard the sound of a car on the gravel of the parking area. He was back. She couldn’t help the sudden skip in her heart. Every inch of her went on alert and she waited impatiently for him to come in, holding the French door open wide.

He saw her the moment he stepped on the veranda. “I didn’t keep you up, did I? I know you rise early.”

“No, this is my usual closing time. Did you enjoy climbing with your friend?” She shut the door after he walked through and turned around to face him. He was growing more tanned each day he spent on the cliffs. He had a rugged masculinity that attracted like nothing else had. She wanted to check her hair and make sure she looked as good as she could. How silly was that? Matt hadn’t shown a speck of interest. He was still mourning.

“Paul’s driven to competition. Everything has to be a challenge. He made bets on who would reach the top first. Then he wanted to try a different climb down. Racing to be first in both treks, he made me tired just watching him. I didn’t come to make everything into a contest.”

“Have you climbed together before?”

“Once or twice. I know, I should have expected it. He’s always like that. Only this time, I was feeling differently about things. It’s the first time I’ve gone with him since Marabelle and Etienne’s deaths.”

“Your family?” she asked gently. She hadn’t known their names.

He nodded.

“Did they share your love of climbing? Your son must have, if he went with you.”

“As long as it was a gentle ramble around hills and lakes. Once serious rock climbing came into the picture, Marabelle always found other pursuits. I had hoped Etienne would like to climb when he got older.”

“Phillipe’s father taught him. They had lots of treks together. I think it was a bonding time; they were very close.”

“Any shared activity would draw parents and children closer. Etienne liked to walk around the vineyard with me. That’s what I miss most, I think.”

“Tell me about him. Would you like something to drink? Brandy? Coffee?”

He hesitated so long, she was sure he’d refuse. Then he nodded once and said, “I’ll take a brandy if you have it.”

Jeanne-Marie went back into the kitchen and drew out a bottle of fine brandy and two snifters. She carried them back to the lounge, pleased to see Matt standing near one of the comfortable sofas with a coffee table in front of it.

She set the glasses down and offered him the bottle. He poured them each a small portion of brandy and lowered himself beside her on the sofa once she sat.

“How old was Etienne?” she asked. She hoped he wanted to talk about his son. She often wanted to talk about Phillipe, to remember the good times, to share his life again with friends. It had been hard at first, but now it brought comfort.

“He was five. Alexandre’s age. His hair was blond and his eyes blue. Even if he was my own, I thought he was engaging. Funny. Inquisitive.”

“What was his favorite thing to do?”

“Follow me around.” Matt thought for a few moments, then told her about some of the daily trips around the vineyard, or about shopping at one of the local farmers’ markets. Once, he and Marabelle had lost him for a few seconds. He remembered the panic.

As he talked, Jeanne-Marie envisioned the happy family who had thought everything would go on forever. Much as she and Phillipe had done. Her heart ached at the loss of such a sweet little boy. How much more so must he feel?

Matt glanced at his watch. “It’s late. I’ve bored you enough.”

“I’m never bored hearing about children.” Now or never, she thought. They’d spent almost an hour together, and her interest was as strong as ever. She could do this.

“We will be going to watch the parade for the fete on Saturday. Would you like to join us?” She held her breath.

“I don’t think I’m up for celebrating.” He put the empty glass on the table and rose. “I’ll take off for my room now and let you get some sleep.”

She stood next to him, realizing too late how close she stood. Before she could take a step back, however, he reached out and traced his finger down her cheek. “I enjoyed talking about my son. I’ll always miss him. He was a part of me that I will never completely get over losing.”

“I enjoyed hearing about him. I’m so sorry for your loss. I can’t even imagine.”

“Most people can’t, I guess.”

He leaned over and kissed her. For a moment it was the mere brush of lips against lips, but then he moved his hand to the back of her head and held her while his other arm reached around to draw her closer. The kiss deepened.

Jeanne-Marie was caught off guard and before she could protest or push away, he’d released her. She stared up into his eyes, afraid of the tumultuous feelings that exploded.

“Thank you,” he said, and after releasing her he swiftly crossed to the stairs and took them two at a time.

She stood still, bemused, confused. “Good night,” she said a moment later, feeling stunned with that kiss. She wasn’t sure what to think. Had he picked up on her reaction to being around him? He had not shown any particular interest. Why a kiss?

And what a kiss. Did he do that all the time? Slowly she sat back down on the sofa still staring off toward the stairs. Her heart pounded. Licking her lips, she was still shocked. She had not seen it coming.

It had merely been a thank-you for listening. He hadn’t meant anything else by it.

Matt went to the window and stared out at the night. He could still feel the imprint of Jeanne-Marie’s body against his. She was not as tall as Marabelle had been. But sweet, soft, enticing. How could he have kissed her? There was nothing between them. She’d kindly listened to him talk tonight, that was all. He was lucky she hadn’t slapped him silly.

He’d felt a release sharing his son, remembering their normal routines, taken for granted at the time, so precious in memories now. She understood because of her own loss and her own son. She’d shared a few funny incidents involving Alexandre, and he’d been able to counter. The time had flown by.

The room was dark, the night was dark, his thoughts were dark. How could he kiss another woman?

Yet Marabelle was gone.

She wouldn’t hold it against him.

He turned and began to strip his clothes in preparation for bed. He’d never thought to kiss another woman, but there was something about Jeanne-Marie that had him momentarily forgetting who and where he was. He’d have to apologize. If she didn’t kick him out of the inn first.

Lying in bed a short time later, he threw an arm over his head and clenched his fist. Instead of giving an apology, he wanted another kiss. One in which she kissed him back. How dumb could one man be?

Matt came down for breakfast later than the previous days. He was going to do some exploring around the easy marked trails and then come back for Alexandre’s ramble. That is, if Jeanne-Marie would let him. There were some places where the incline was almost gentle enough to walk up. Those would be perfect for a small boy.

He came down the stairs and went to the dining room. Two tables had guests eating. One was still cluttered with dirty dishes and two others were set. He took one to the side and sat down. No sooner had he pulled out his chair than Jeanne-Marie came from the kitchen. Did she have magical powers?

“Chocolate or coffee?” she asked, coming to his table. She balanced a plastic bin on one hip.

“Coffee today.” She nodded to the stack of newspapers on the buffet. “Today’s papers if you care to read. I’ll be right back.” Swiftly she stacked the dirty dishes in the bin and carried them out of the dining room. The conversations at the other tables were quiet. He rose and took one of the daily papers from the small stack and resumed his seat.

But he wasn’t really interested in the news. He leaned back in his chair and waited for Jeanne-Marie to return.

She did, with a bright smile and a carafe of hot coffee. Also on the platter was a frittata, fresh bread, orange juice and a petite cinnamon roll. She served him, then met his eyes. “Anything else?”

He could hardly ask for her to sit with him. But he missed the companionship he’d had the last couple of mornings. At least she hadn’t asked him to leave. She hadn’t said anything about the kiss. Were they going to ignore it?

Feeling like he’d won a reprieve, he looked at the meal. “This looks fine,” he said.

“Enjoy.” She checked on the other guests, then went back to the kitchen.

Alexandre came through a moment later and made a beeline for Matt.

“Hi. We’re going climbing today,” he said, clambering onto the chair opposite Matt. “My mama said. Are we going now?”

“This afternoon,” Matt concurred gravely. “If it’s still okay with your mother.”

“Will we climb to the top of a mountain?”

“No, we’ll start out on a small hill.”

“I want to climb a mountain!”

“Climbing is a skill that has to be learned. Everyone starts out on smaller cliffs, then goes on to bigger and bigger challenges. You cannot climb a mountain at five.”

Alexandre pouted for a moment. Matt hid a smile behind his coffee cup, taking a drink while the child assimilated what he’d been told. Children wanted everything immediately.

“Can I climb a mountain tomorrow?” Alexandre asked hopefully.

“You can’t climb a mountain until you are as tall as I am.”

The boy’s eyes got big. “I’ll never be that tall.”

“When you grow up you will.” For a moment Matt wondered how tall Alexandre would be. He felt a pang of disappointment that he would likely never know.

Alexandre kicked his foot against the chair. “Are we going soon? “

“After lunch. I have things to do this morning,” Matt told him.

“Can I come?”

Matt heard the echo of Etienne’s voice. He’d ask just like that. How many times had Matt said not today, when, had he known the future, he’d have taken him every single time?

“I’ll be on the phone with work. Then I need to scout out our route for this afternoon. But I tell you what, if your mother approves, once I’m back, we’ll start learning about climbing.”

“I’ll go ask her,” Alexandre said, slipping off the chair and running for the kitchen.

Jeanne-Marie came out an instant later and walked right to his table.

“Is Alexandre bothering you?” she asked.

“No. I told him when I finish checking in with work and scouting the climb for later, I’d go over basics with him. He needs to learn a lot to be safe on a cliff. He’s still going for a climb today, right?”

Jeanne-Marie nodded her head slowly. “As long as I can go, too.”

Matt gave a curt nod. He wasn’t sure he wanted two pupils, especially when he had trouble keeping his mind focused when around the pretty innkeeper. Climbing demanded a lot of concentration; he hoped he could remember that.

He met her eyes, seeing the confusion there. But she merely said, “We’ll be ready after lunch.”

Jeanne-Marie felt almost as excited as Alexandre when she got ready to meet Matt that afternoon. She wore long pants, the cross trainers that offered good soles and a red T-shirt—hoping it would give her courage. Butterflies danced in her stomach. She had gone on some easy scrambles with Phillipe a time or two before she’d gotten pregnant. Easy according to Phillipe—she remembered being in over her head. Maybe a person needed to begin early to master the skills.

She hoped she was doing the right thing in letting her son try this. She knew he had heard so many stories from his grandfather about the climbs he and Phillipe had done, he equated all climbing with his father. She should talk more about Phillipe’s work and diffuse the focus on his hobby. His passion, as it were.

Before they left their quarters, she caught Alexandre and held his face between her hands, making him look directly at her. “Listen. You must do whatever Matt tells you, understand? He’s the expert. He’ll keep you safe, but you have to listen to him.”

“I will listen to him,” Alexandre promised solemnly.

“If not, we stop and come straight home,” she finished.

“Okay. I’ll listen.” He went racing out of their area into the lounge.

“Matt, Mama says I have to listen to you. I will—really, really hard.”

Matt was standing near the French doors. He nodded at Alexandre’s comment, then looked beyond him to Jeanne-Marie. She felt the butterflies kick up a notch, but wasn’t sure if it was from meeting his dark gaze or the thought of letting her son climb a cliff.

“I thought we’d drive to the trailhead,” Matt said.

“Fine, you’re in charge.” She bid Rene goodbye. The teen had come early to be there when they left.

In no time, the three of them were walking along the rocky trail that skirted the base of Les Calanques. The sea sparkled in the sunshine. The cliffs towered over them, undulating with folds and crevices. The heat of the day reflected from the rock.

“What did you learn this morning?” Matt asked Alexandre as they walked.

The boy began repeating the words of caution and preparation Matt had told him.

“Good memory,” Matt said in some surprise. The child had been listening.

Jeanne-Marie was pleased at the effort Matt had made with Alexandre. He had drilled him on the safety features. She didn’t know all the ones her son repeated. Phillipe had given her very little instruction, intent more on getting on with the climb.

Was Matt taking extra care because Alexandre was so young? Or was he naturally prudent? She knew from the way Phillipe had talked that he liked taking chances. She suspected Matt got the same adrenaline high from climbing, but took a bit more care to make sure he’d return in one piece.

They reached a sloping hummock that led right to the path. Matt stopped and studied it for a moment, then looked at Jeanne-Marie.

“This is the one I thought he could do.”

She nodded. The hill was steep, but not sheer by any means. There were plenty of rocks to hold on to and even some small trees growing from cracks. She could almost walk up it herself without difficulty.

“This would be perfect,” she said with genuine gratitude. She wouldn’t have to worry about her son on this. Or herself.

“Okay, Alexandre, now listen carefully,” Matt said, stooping down to be at his level. “We’ll look over the entire hill first. Decide which way we want to go. Then once we begin, we’ll look ahead several holds to make sure we always have a way to go. Understand?”

The boy nodded, excitement shining in his eyes.

Matt pointed out rocky protuberances they could use, some sturdy plants, some suspect. Cracks where a foot would find purchase.

Matt rose and looked at Jeanne-Marie. “Any questions?”

“Nope, I’m good to go.”

“You’re climbing? I thought you just wanted to observe.”

“I’ve been listening. I think I can master this. Maybe I’ll find out what all the fuss is about. Like you said, if Alexandre and I have activities in common, we might draw closer.”

“Then follow us up. I want to stay near him.”

Matt had Alexandre go first. Pointing out handholds and where to put his feet, Matt never was more than a foot or two away from him. Close enough to help out if anything went wrong. Close enough to catch him if the child slipped, yet giving him enough space that Alexandre would think he was doing it all on his own.

Alexandre followed Matt’s instructions, climbing up the steep incline slowly and methodically.

Jeanne-Marie waited until they were well ahead and then she began her own ascent, looking ahead like Matt had instructed. It was actually fun to be going from one rock or knob to another, almost like climbing a ladder. The rock was warm beneath her fingers, the sun hot on her head. After a few feet she felt a spark of elation. She had hated the thought of this for so long, but found it was enjoyable. Another place to stand, reach up, hold on and step up.

She might never want to go up a sheer cliff or climb a mountain, but for a gentle scramble, this was turning out much better than she had expected.

“Mama, I’m climbing!” Alexandre called, looking over his shoulder to her.

“Pay attention, Alexandre,” Matt said. “Looking around can cause a distraction. Focus on the rocks.”

“Okay.” He climbed some more and finally reached a wide ledge. Climbing over to sit on the flat portion, he grinned as Matt joined him. “I did it. I climbed!”

“Yes, you did a great job.”

Jeanne-Marie reached the ledge, looking at the two satisfied males sitting there. “I did it, too,” she said, scrambling onto the ledge. It was over a dozen feet long and at least six feet from lip to back wall. A shallow cave seemed carved out behind them. Looking up, the next stage of cliff was steeper.

She sat on the edge, letting her feet dangle. They’d come almost thirty feet. Not a huge distance, but she was grateful for the attention Matt gave her son. “This is fabulous. Look how far we can see, almost to Africa.” She looked at Matt. “I can’t thank you enough. I can almost see what drives climbers.”

He nodded. “The more familiar you become, the more you want a bit more of a challenge.”

“Maybe. But for now, this suits me perfectly. Alexandre, you did so well! You’ll have to tell your grand-père. He’ll be proud of you.”

“Maybe he will take me climbing.”

“I bet he will.” She thought about how he’d lost heart after Phillipe’s death. But a gentle hill like this one would be perfect for him to spend time with Alexandre.

“Now are we climbing to the top?” Alexandre asked, jumping up and looking toward the rim.