Chapter 18 #2
“So that’s it?” I say as I climb in beside him. “You love one person and you give up on ever falling in love again?”
“Two people. Two people, Grace.” He looks across at me. “And I lost them both.” He sounds bleak—and adamant.
I don’t know what else to say. My rib cage has become clawlike, closing around my heart. His words have hit me unfathomably hard.
Louis is super friendly, but his English is indeed limited so I’m very grateful étienne offered to come. I show Louis the photographs I’ve taken, promising to get some professional ones done if he agrees to take the job.
“We need a design that incorporates the name Eau de Sainte églantine.” As I draw a bottle shape on a piece of paper with a rough layout of the design, étienne translates. “We’re starting completely afresh so the font type can complement the style.”
I feel oddly jittery hearing étienne talk in his native language. He pauses and looks at me and I stare back at him, slightly off-kilter. It takes me a second to realize that he’s waiting for me to continue.
“We may still need to employ a graphic designer to work on the font.” I’m a bit flustered as I try to concentrate.
The branding is so important—it’ll be across everything.
“But if you’re happy to work something into the artwork, that would be great.
We just need to stay flexible.” I wait for étienne to catch up.
He turns to me when he has, a small smile on his lips.
I can’t believe he’s done with love.
Why am I thinking about this?
I clear my throat. “Mostly we need a simpler version of this here that we can etch onto bottles.” I indicate Estelle’s pavilion painting on one of my photographs.
Louis nods, leaning in to peer more closely at it. He glances at étienne as he says, in French, “This is really beautiful.”
étienne nods, replying, “Yes, my mother was very…”
What?
“What did you say to him?” I ask.
“I said that my mother was very talented. He agrees.”
I nod. “I agree too.”
“Anything else?” he asks me.
“We should talk about a fee and I need to see if he’s able to do a mock-up sketch so we can agree on the layout before he spends too much time on it.”
He turns to Louis while I try to collect myself.
For the first time I wonder if the games we’ve been playing are dangerous. Not for him—he doesn’t want another relationship so there’s no chance he’ll get invested—but for me.
“Do you have to rush back?” étienne asks as we walk to his car after our meeting with Louis. “Because Grotte Chauvet 2 is close by.”
My face lights up. “Can we go?”
“Would you like to?”
“Would I like to put an end to my reign of being the worst tourist to have ever come to the Ardèche? Um, yeah! Isn’t there also a giant limestone arch somewhere? One that goes over the river?”
He releases a small laugh and gives me a look. “Yes, Grace.”
“I have seen it,” I reply defensively. It’s one of the things the Ardèche is most famous for.
“As you’ve driven past?” he teases as we arrive at his car.
“No! We stopped and had a picnic once,” I say as I climb in. “Albert took Mellie, Jackson, and me. There’s a beach nearby.”
“There are several.”
“It was really busy.”
“You have to go very early in the morning to see it at its best, ideally from a kayak. Raphael’s hire place is nearby. I’ll put you in touch with him if you ever decide to do it properly.”
Chauvet 2 is only a ten-minute drive away. When we reach the front of the queue, étienne requests two tickets and goes to get out his wallet.
“It’s a research trip; I’ll bill it to the company,” I say, trying to stay his hand.
“No, it’s all right.” He goes ahead and swipes his credit card.
“Okay then, we’ll add it to your invoice.”
He casts me a sidelong grin and then does a double take when he sees the look on my face. “Oh,” he says. “You’re not joking.”
“No. We do need to discuss a fee sooner rather than later.”
“I don’t want their money,” he snaps with a scowl.
I frown after him as he stalks over to the barriers. “But we have to pay you something,” I say anxiously as we go through.
“Absolutely not,” he replies.
“But, étienne—”
He turns on me, his eyes flashing. “I said no.”
I stare up at him, shocked.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his shoulders dropping. “Just…I’m happy for you to use my mother’s design. And I’m happy to help where I can.”
“Okay,” I reply weakly.
He gently grasps my chin and tilts it upward until I’m looking into his eyes. I feel a quickening inside my chest at the intimacy of the gesture, the feeling of his forefinger and thumb pressing into my skin. I almost feel possessed by him in that moment.
“Okay?” he checks, his eyes moving between mine.
I nod, swallowing, and force myself to ask, “You’re still happy to sign a contract though, right?”
He lets go of my chin and looks off to the side.
I feel a pang of regret. “Our lawyer won’t let us proceed with the design otherwise,” I explain. “You could sue us for copyright.”
“Fine. I’ll sign your contract, but keep money out of it.”
“Okay,” I agree heavily, wishing I hadn’t had to complicate this excursion with work stuff.
He blows out a breath. When he speaks, he’s more composed. “Are you ready to see ‘humanity’s first great masterpiece’?”
“I’m ready to see a pretend version of it, yes.”
It seems to be our default setting to wind each other up.
“This is a masterpiece of humanity too,” he replies with a half smile. “It’s one of the many reasons why I’m proud of my country.”
I wait for an explanation, but he doesn’t offer one. All he says is, “You’ll see.”
The replica cave is inside a purpose-built piece of modern architecture: an enormous circle made of gray concrete that towers over us as we walk around to where the timed tours take place.
When our group is called and we’re led inside, it becomes clear just what an undertaking this was.
The extent of the replication is astonishing.
The real cave was occupied by humans during two different time periods—around thirty-six thousand and twenty-two thousand years ago—and rockfalls sealed up the entrance after each.
The most recent discovery was in 1994 by three cave explorers who were moved to tears by what they found.
More than a thousand pictures—almost half of which are animals—appear on the walls, including now-extinct species such as woolly rhinoceroses, mammoths, cave lions and cave bears that were even bigger than grizzlies.
The cave floor is littered with fossilized bones and there are replica stalactites and stalagmites too.
The artists back in the day were creative with their techniques: an owl has been fashioned from the markings made by a cave bear sharpening its claws, and a reindeer’s upper body and antlers climb out of natural contours resembling legs.
But the most beautiful pieces are the panels of art—huge frescos that wrap around the walls featuring realistic charcoal drawings of dozens of animals.
A pride of lions hunts bison. A pair of woolly rhinoceroses butt heads.
And there is one drawing of horses—each with different expressions—that I could stare at for hours.
The original explorers resisted the temptation to venture into the cave until pathways could be constructed because they didn’t want to mark their own presence alongside the footprint of a child who stared at the art by flame light over twenty thousand years ago.
Right after discovery, the cave was sealed off to the public. And that’s what makes Chauvet 2 so special. It was built in order to preserve the original for future generations.
No wonder étienne is proud. I can’t imagine the amount of money this must have cost so that millions of people could enjoy an experience that otherwise would only be afforded to a few.
“I’m proud of your country too,” I say on our way out. “That was mind-blowing.”
“I’m glad you liked it.”
I leave a beat. “I still want to see the real one though.”
He laughs. “Me too, but it’ll never happen. It’s locked up like a bank vault and guarded twenty-four seven. They don’t publicize its exact location, but it’s not far from Pont d’Arc at the entrance to Gorges de l’Ardèche. You might see it if you go kayaking.”
“Would you come with me?” I ask on impulse as we walk back to his car.
He shrugs. “Sure.”
I’m thrilled, but then it occurs to me to ask, “Actually, are there rapids? And how fast will we be going?”
“There are some rapids and we’ll be going very slowly if I remember how badly you paddled.”
I thump his arm.
“I’m joking,” he says. “We need to go fast through the rapids.”
“Okay, I’ve changed my mind.”
He smiles at me. He knows I don’t mean it. I want to spend time with him.
It gives me pause to realize how much.