Chapter 21 #3
“It was,” Jennifer agreed. “We fell in love, got married and had ten kids together, and it’s been bliss ever since.
Well, except for the lack of running water, but I’ve happily traded that for a husband who quotes Shakespeare in the lists and speaks English to me with a very sexy French accent when he’s trying to butter me up for something he wants.
” She paused. “He also does that when he’s trying to distract me from thinking too hard about anything he’s going off to do that he knows I’m not going to like, but that never works quite as well for him as he thinks it will. ”
Harriet stopped herself before she snorted. “That sounds familiar.”
Jennifer smiled. “Sam is his father’s son, to be sure. And speaking of Sam, how is he?”
“Perfect,” Harriet said, then she bit her tongue. “I mean, he’s wonderful. I’m sure he’ll make a great husband to some medieval girl with a castle and knights and all the stuff you have back here.”
“That’s possible, I suppose, though he seems pretty fond of where he’s at.”
“He does love chocolate,” Harriet conceded, “though he seems to be very much in touch with his medieval side.”
“Have you two been dating long?”
“Oh, we’re just friends,” she said quickly.
Jennifer didn’t look convinced, but the woman also had ten children. She was obviously a hopeless romantic.
“How did you meet, then?” Jennifer asked. “That’s my favorite part of a good love story.”
Harriet nodded to herself. No wonder Sam couldn’t control his matchmaking tendencies. Genes at work again.
“Well,” she said, settling in for a decent bit of dishing—Jennifer de Piaget inspired that sort of thing, actually—“I had come to England to attend a mystery writer’s conference, Sam was covering for Theo at the same conference, and we wound up hiding together behind the same ficus tree.”
“Did you think he was cute?” Jennifer asked with a twinkle in her eye.
“Adorably gorgeous,” Harriet admitted. “And ridiculously insistent on my staying by the fire and knitting while he went out and took care of business which one night included fighting your nephew Jackson with swords next to a church.”
She shut her mouth abruptly when it occurred to her that maybe Sam’s mother might not want to know anything about his potentially dangerous adventures in the future, but Jennifer only waved her on.
“I love hearing about him from everyone who isn’t him,” Jennifer said with a smile. “He tends to leave out details he thinks will make me nervous, but you don’t have to hold back. How did his little adventure with Jackson end up?”
“With Jackson’s sword going through Sam’s favorite jacket.”
“I’m unsurprised,” Jennifer said dryly. “I’m thankful that Jackson is such a good swordsman and utterly unsurprised that he’s chasing down my boys for a little payback.
They hassled him endlessly when they were younger, so they deserve whatever they get in return.
I am glad they’ve found each other, though.
Do you know if Sam and Theo have gotten in touch with their cousin Mary yet? ”
“We ran into her in the pub a couple of days ago, actually,” Harriet admitted. “It seemed like they hadn’t seen each other in a while, but you’d have to ask him to be sure.”
Jennifer’s smile turned wistful. “Is he chivalrous?”
“He’s perfect,” Harriet said. She realized she’d said that before, but she was all out of adjectives to describe a man who was charming and chivalrous and endlessly on the hunt for chocolate. What wasn’t to love—er, like, rather, about that?
“And he’s been a gentleman?”
Harriet couldn’t help a discreet blush. “Also perfectly so. Well, as much as I would know about it because we’re still just friends. But he’s been wonderful to me and lovely to my parents. You have every reason to be proud of the man he is.”
“My sons are very much like their father,” Jennifer said with a smile, “and I think he’s pretty perfect.” She shrugged happily. “I might be biased, but I love my children to the moon and back.”
“You do have a lovely family,” Harriet said, meaning it.
“Thank you, but now I want to hear about yours. Connor said your parents had been at a medieval faire site and wandered off the beaten path. And you have siblings, as well?”
Harriet launched into her standard recitation of familial facts, then realized halfway through answering questions about what her siblings did that it had been a deliberate move on her hostess’s part to take her mind off things—namely where her parents were and if they were safe—that she couldn’t solve on her own.
She wondered just how many times Jennifer had had to do that herself while waiting for medieval life to sort itself out.
She also realized that Sam’s mother was a genuinely lovely person who had taken the unbelievable and created a space for herself where simple things mattered the most. Food, sleep, and something beautiful. She was starting to see how that might just be true.
A knock sounded on the door and Jennifer answered in her perfect French which left Harriet thinking she definitely had more work to do.
She listened to a teenager breathlessly announce something but didn’t catch enough of it for any useful reaction.
Jennifer sent the boy on to other business, then stood up and smiled.
“They’re riding into the courtyard now.”
“My parents?” Harriet gasped, jumping up. “Sam found them?”
Jennifer laughed and hugged her. “Apparently so. They’re safe and sound and likely very weary. Come help me translate?”
“They’re both fluent in French and a handful of other things,” Harriet said, feeling a little breathless. “It wouldn’t surprise me if my father’s spent quite a bit of time getting to know some Norman French behind his study door.”
“Then why don’t you stay next to me and be my assistant chatelaine?
My Italian’s limited to musical terms, but we might manage to mix a little Latin in with some tempo directions and get by if we need to.
I may not have the chance to translate everything directly for you, but Sam can do that after he’s raided the pantry. ”
Harriet suspected that was exactly how quickly he would be ready for translation duties, but that was reassuring somehow.
She made Jennifer a curtsey, had a laugh and an arm around her shoulders as her reward, and concentrated on both breathing steadily and not tripping over her own two feet on her way out Jennifer’s door and down the stairs.
Then again, with as often as Sam did it, he at least wouldn’t think anything of it.
She walked out from the stairs into the great hall just as the front door was being flung open and a group of people were tumbling inside.
She could hardly believe her parents were standing there, chatting with Sam’s father as easily as if they’d known each other for years, but maybe camping in the wilds of medieval England led to bonding experiences she hadn’t expected.
She started across the floor, then came to an abrupt stop at the sight of Samuel de Piaget, medieval lord’s son, walking into the hall himself.
He rubbed his hands over his face, shook his head sharply, then looked around him, no doubt to see if anyone had anything tasty on the fire.
She had unfortunately left all her chocolate along with her backpack in Rufus’s car, but that probably wasn’t going to matter any because she couldn’t make herself do anything but stand, rooted to the spot, and stare at him. He was filthy, obviously exhausted—
And the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
He was also looking at her as if he’d never seen her before.
She checked to make sure she hadn’t lost half her clothes on the way down the stairs, then found herself distracted by Lord Nicholas calling her name.
She sent Sam a quick smile, then floated over to give his father her best curtsey before she turned and threw herself into her parents’ arms.
She wasn’t entirely sure she hadn’t burst into tears briefly, but it had been that sort of medieval adventure so far.
“We’re fine, darling,” her mother said, pulling back and kissing her on both cheeks. “Completely unharmed and still in our right minds.”
Harriet hugged her mother again, hugged her father, then looked at them both.
“Unharmed?”
“Completely,” her mother said, then she nodded toward Sam. “And there is the reason.” She smiled beatifically. “He is our knight in shining armor.”
Harriet looked at Sam. She was terribly tempted to fling herself into his arms as well, but she felt every eye in the place on her. She took a deep breath, then smiled at him.
“Thank you,” she mouthed.
He smiled, then found himself pulled away to answer something someone had asked him.
She was also distracted by the lady Jennifer needing her assistance in the middle of a crush of relatives, something for which she was enormously grateful.
She listened to her parents make lovely conversation with the lord and lady of the keep in their excellent French—they had met in Paris on a summer intensive, after all—and wondered just what she was supposed to do to keep herself from another round of brief hysterics over her relief at seeing her parents safe and whole.
She wasn’t at all disappointed that Sam hadn’t thrown his arms around her and professed undying lo—
She felt someone catch her by the hand. She realized it was Sam only because she’d looked up at the right time.
“Wait for me,” he murmured.
She hardly had time to do anything but watch silently as he was pulled away by yet another relative and swarmed by a trio of young boys she knew were his nephews. Judging by the way those kids glued themselves to him, she suspected that she might not see him again that day.
And just what had he meant by wait for me anyway?
Wait for him to introduce her to his very long line of medieval girlfriends?
Wait for him to jot down an equally long list of reasons why he needed to marry a gal who’d been born in the same century as he had?
Wait for him to hand her a map and keys to a wagon, then point her toward the door where she could get herself back to the future and wonder why art classes in Omaha just didn’t sound all that great any longer?
She noticed that he’d disentangled himself from small boys only to be dragged off by his older brother to do heaven only knew what.
What she knew was that she was going to be punching Connor de Piaget the first chance she had.
She realized she was thinking too many thoughts of alternatives to taking swords to people, but perhaps when in medieval England …
“Harriet?”
She pulled her attention back to Sam’s mother and put on a bright smile. “Yes, my lady,” she said in her best approximation of medieval Norman French.
Jennifer laughed a little, and drew her over to stand in the middle of complete chaos. Harriet was beginning to understand why Sam sometimes looked as though he were running while standing completely still.
For herself, distraction and keeping busy were going to be her best choices for the foreseeable future. She would think about what Sam had wanted her to wait for later.
And hope it wouldn’t break her heart when she learned what it might be.