Chapter 6
6
T homas tugged on Chastity’s hand then ran up the grassy steps ahead of her. Up and up without seeming to tire at all. Each small footstep spun off the old wooden beamsthat werepegged into the earth to make stairs.
Chastity made her way up more calmly, preserving her energy for the long climb. They were at Etretat—the beach in Normandy, famous for its cliffs, with long arches carved out by centuries of water flowing through. She rounded the bend in the rustic staircase, and her son was sitting calmly on a boulder waiting for her. As soon as she appeared, he darted off again, running up the hillside.
Nearing the top, Chastity saw the edge of the cliff on her left, but the path was distant enough from the edge that she didn’t fear for Thomas’s safety. On the right was a small hill where cows grazed. The solid and wooly white creatures munched on long, lush grass, almost silver in its shininess. Perhaps the cows needed that extra layer on their hides against the wind that must blow fiercely on the cliffs in the wintertime. Even now, at the end of October, she and Thomas wore scarves and jackets zipped tightly to their necks.
The two of them reached the highest spot on this side of the cliff, the best view for the rock formation that Monet had made famous across the bay. Chastity stood at the top, her hands on Thomas’s shoulders, both of them looking over the horizon into the soft autumn sun. The water crashed against the cliff below, and the wind blew steadily against her face, filling her lungs with cold air.
This is my life! She wanted to shout in the joy of that moment—alive, with her beloved son, breathing in the age-old, glorious surroundings. But later that night in the hotel room, she sat next to her sleeping son and brushed a lock of hair off his forehead with her hand. This is my life , she thought again, quietly.
She got up and walked over to the little desk. They were spending the All Saints holiday at a Bed & Breakfast in Trouville, which was cheaper than Deauville, but not far. Their room—papered in light, flowered wallpaper—was on the top floor with a sloped ceiling and dormer windows. A candle she had bought at a small boutique in Etretat caused flickering shadows to dance on the faded walls. Leaning her head in her hands, Chastity let out her breath.
I’m lonely . She picked up her phone and turned it over in her hands, tracing the red poppy decal on the white background. She had no one to call. It had never bothered her much that she never had anyone to turn to, apart from her parents. But here, with all this beauty around her, she found she wanted to share it with someone. She missed intimacy.
Passing the phone from hand to hand, she turned her thoughts to Marc, remembering the way he stared at her on their recent outing after that first date—the baby steps in their relationship of two plus one. His gaze never left her face when she spoke, and he looked at her the way he used to. He put his arm on the small of her back as they crossed the street together, Thomas on his scooter sailing across in away she had told him countless times not to do. Marc'stouch distracted her, but it didn’t weaken her. She wasn’t ready to go back to that place. I’m not sure I ever will be.
She put the phone down on the desk and touched the switch on the lamp cord. The flickering shadows on the wall entranced her, but only for another minute. She got up, blew out the candle, and went to bed.
Charles walked briskly down the broad sidewalk in the noonday sun, his face a perfect scowl. He had seen the morning paper. If she thinks she can play me for a fool, she doesn’t know who she’s dealing with …He grit his teeth, and his pace quickened.
With the package his trainerhad forgotten in the hotel tucked under his arm, he made his way with sure steps towards the racetrack. The whole town was filled with spectators, trainers,and managers who were here for the race. He walked past a drum of roasting chestnuts and was instantly transported to his childhood.
“Will I be able to ride in this race one day, Papa?” he had asked, looking up at the person he loved and trusted most in the world. The man who was Viscount de Brase to everyone else, but Papa to him.
His father leaned against the railing at the racetrack, watching his groom handle the favored horse, cigarette smoke curling around his dark sideburns. He was distracted by the mounting excitement but always had attention to give to his son.
“I’m afraid to tell you this, Charles, but you’re likely to be too tall and heavy to race.” He watched his son’s shoulders droop, and he poked him, smiling. “It’s good to be tall, isn’t it?”
Charles moped. “You can kiss the tall girls?” His father nudged him and winked, but Charles’s continued sulk showed what he thought of that notion.
“It’s Dancer,” Charles called out, all pouting forgotten by his glee at getting such a close glimpse of the famed horse.
He could still see the way the horse rounded the track, always a head further than everyother horse. His father had tried to buy him, but the owner refused to sell. So they were doomed to watch his success from a distance, along with everyone else, and regret not owning such a fine specimen.
Charles came back to his surroundings when his cell phone pinged. It was a text from his manager. He stopped and pulled off to the side of the street, against the wrought iron fence, and told him he was on his way. No sooner had he started walking again than his phone chimed once more. He glanced at it, and the corners of his mouth turned up.
He answered. “Jef.”
“Charlie. You weren’t there last night at the reunion. I didn’t call ahead of time because I was sure I’d see you there. Too good for your old friends, are you?” Charles could hear the grin in his oldest friend’s voice.
“You forgot—I’m at the race.”
“Ah right. I did forget,” Jean-Fran?ois said. “Good for you. You need more fun in your life. You work too hard.”
Charles gave a dry laugh. “Okay. If you can call this fun. Truthfully, it’s just another thing I have to do.”
“If that’s true, it’s too bad,” his friend answered. “You used to love racing when you were growing up. You can’t let all your hobbies go… ” His voice trailed away, knowing that any hint of Miriam left him treading on dangerous ground.
Charles ignored the reference. “Sorry I didn’t call. I meant to—I did want to see everyone. But I had back-to-back committee meetings before coming here.”
“How many committees are you on?” Jef asked.
“Outside of the hospital? Three. And that doesn’t include the racetrack.”
“And you’re working part-time?” His friend’s voice let him know what he thought of that idea.
Truthfully, he was starting to feel the strain. “I consult more than anything. But basically—yes, I work part-time. Don’t worry. I’m fine,” Charles replied. “Look, I’ll call you when I get back, and we’ll have a drink together, okay?”
“That’ll be good.” Jef sounded distracted. “Before you go, um…just wanted to make sure you’re following the news and all? You know, current events, society pages?”
Charles felt a stab in his chest—annoyance? Pain? He put his friend out of his misery. “Yeah, I saw about Manon, if that’s what you’re asking. She hasn’t called yet, but I’m sure she will eventually.”
“Okay, good. Good.” Jef seemed relieved he didn’t have to be the one to break the news to his best friend concerning the rumors about her and Bruce Richards. “Okay, so then, ah…talk to you soon.”
“See you.” Charles ended the call. He leaned against the iron bars of the gated property, ignoring the bustle around him. He was anonymous here so most people left him alone, although there were always the women who flirted based on his looks, not his title.
The phone rang again. At this rate, he wasn’t going to be on time. He was about to put the phone on mute when he saw who it was. He checked his watch, then clicked the answer button as he started to walk briskly.
“ All? ?”
“Charles, chéri.” Manon’s voice was hopeful. “I hope this is not a bad time.”
“I’ve only a minute. I’m on my way to meet Grégoire to give him some supplies for my horse.”
“Okay, I won’t keep you.” Manon sounded breathless. “The thing is, I don’t know if you saw the pictures in the paper?”
Charles didn’t know how to reply, so he gave a clipped, “ oui. ”
Manon rushed on. “I don’t want you to get any ideas. This was a scene from the movie that the journalists misinterpreted. There’s nothing going on between us.” When he didn’t respond right away, she persisted. “I hope you believe me.”
I really don’t want to be having this conversation . He knew he had to say something. “You can do whatever you want with your life. Just don’t think I will sit here and wait.” Charles regretted the words the instant they left his mouth. He sounded like a teenager.
“Yes, but you have to believe me. I’d never be unfaithful,” she said, with a rising hysteria that Charles had no patience for. “I’d be crazy to when I have you…I’m not about to start now.”
When he was silent, she added, “I’m supposed to come back in a month for the holiday break. Let’s just not make any decisions before then. Okay?”
Charles didn’t feel like committing, but he found himself agreeing. “Fine,” and added, “I need to go. I have to meet Grégoire.”
“Call me soon, okay?” she pleaded. He had never heard her sound so desperate, but he found he was unmoved by it. After Charles ended the call, he shut the phone off completely. He didn’t want to be disturbed, and since his son was at the racetrack, he decided everyone else could wait.
He couldn’t identify what he was feeling. Manon wasn’t anything more than a passing fling, but he hated looking foolish. He hated being betrayed, something he never had to worry about with Miriam.
Charles picked up his pace again. Although he worked hard to smooth his features, his mouth was set in hard lines.
“Mom, Mom,” Thomas shouted as he chased seagulls on the empty beach. She waved back at him, smiling broadly. Her sober reflections from last night were chased away by the fresh air and the sound of waves. They had already explored the old Normandy hotel, Deauville Barrière , looking at the photos of famous guests who hadstayed there. Thomas was bored.
Now they were on the other side of the busy street, and she was standing on the sidewalk that bordered the beach, watching him as he ran in circles. It was almost time for them to drive home, but she thought they might walk through the town center one more time and find a place that served a hot meal. By the time she had convinced him to go, she was more than ready to get some warm food in her.
They walked down the cobblestone street together that served as a pedestrian walkway, and she was drawn to the cozily-lit restaurants that lined it. They were all too expensive. She had not chosen a cheap place to vacation.
Thomas’s steps started to flag and his mood to sour when she finally gave up on the idea that they would be able to sit somewhere nice. She spotted a sandwich shop that had a seated area indoors. “Do you want to eat a sandwich?”
Her son’s eyes lit up, and he nodded. They walked around the corner to where the entrance was and took their place in line. Fifteen minutes later they left with their sandwiches and a bottle of water. At least they were grilled Panini sandwiches, which would feel warm going down.
“Look Mom,” Thomas said with his mouth full. “There are horses over there.” She focused on where he was indicating. It was on the opposite end of where the car was parked, and she could feel a fatigue set inthrough to her bones.
“I see, honey.” Her son didn’t say anything else, but started to inch in that direction. She figured they could turn down the next street without going too far out of their way, so she followed.
“Mom. It’s Victoire Absolue !” He ran straight down the street without looking behind to see if his mother was following, and she was grateful it was a pedestrian area where she need not worry about cars. Thomas slowed when he reached a fence, behind which a brown horse stood at some small distance, and he slipped easily through the barrier.
Chastity’s heart beat faster at his proximity to such a massive animal, and she tried to speak calmly. “Tommy. Come here for a minute.” He reached up to touch the horse’s side with the hand that wasn’t holding hissandwich.
“It’s Victoire Absolue , Mom,” he said, caressing the horse’s flanks. The horse turned and lowered his head towards Thomas. He blew his breath out in brisk snorts, sniffing at the sandwich.
“It’s all right, miss,” said a gruff voice. “He doesn’t hurt anyone.” An older gentleman in a tailored tweed coat poked his head around from the other side of the horse where he had been hidden from view. “Hello, young man.”
“This horse is enormous.” Chastity said, attempting a smile. “You’re sure my son’s okay?”
“Aw, Mickey’s as gentle as they come.”
“Mickey?” Chastity turned towards Thomas. “Why did you call him Victoire Absolue ?”
“The young man is correct. His proper name is Victoire Absolue , but in the stable, we call him Mickey.”
Thomas moved to the other side of the horse, and Chastity asked the gentleman, “Where does this horse come from? Who owns him?”
“This is the champion horse of the Viscount de Brase. He took first place in the race today, even though he was not a favorite.” The gentleman caressed the horse between the ears and continued with gruff pride. “He’s from Maisons-Laffitte, just outside of Paris." The blood drained from Chastity’s face. She stared at her sandwich.
“Ah. There he is. I was expecting him.”
Chastity turned, just as the viscount strode up to the older gentleman. Mr. de Brase barely glanced at her, and his face looked thunderous.
“Grégoire, here are the leg wraps you needed. I have somewhere I need to be.” He handed a soft bundle of fabric to the older gentleman and walked off in the direction of the racetrack.
Chastity’s face grew hot. She was sure he had seen her, and that his snub was on purpose. He probably wanted to humiliate me for daring to mingle with his world. Oh my God. He probably thought I was just hanging around his horse so I could talk to him or something . She glanced at her son and tried to think of something to say.
The older gentleman, Grégoire, seemed nonplussed. “Mr. de Brase usually has a bit more time to spare than that, but that’s him in any case.” Then he addressed Thomas, eyes alight. “So you know Mickey, do you? How so?”
“I go to Fenley Academy, and I see him walking by in the mornings.” Thomas continued to stroke the horse’s side. “He’s so much finer than the other horses.”
“You seem to know a thing or two. You know the stables are right across the street from your school?” Thomas nodded eagerly. “Why don’t you come by and say hello sometime.”
“That would be great,” Thomas cried out with boyish enthusiasm. “I can—can’t I, Mom?”
Chastity was trembling, but she managed a smile. “That’s kind of you, monsieur.” She addressed the trainer before turning to her son. “It’s time to say goodbye now. We need to go, okay, sweetie?”
Thomas patted the horse one last time. “Goodbye, Mickey,” he said. “See you soon.”
“ Au revoir , monsieur.”
They started walking down the street, and Chastity spotted a trash can on the side of the road. She chucked her half-eaten sandwich in it. No way, she thought. We will not be visiting your stable.
Ever.