Chapter 39
That evening, étienne and I sit out on the newly restored terrace among the strawberry bushes, watching the river roll by.
Dinner is bubbling away on the stove in the kitchen.
He found his mother’s old recipe book a couple of days ago and even though it’s a bit hot for stew, we decided we needed comfort food.
We’re making Coq au vin de Coralie—Coralie was his grandmother, the person who the land would have passed to if her sister’s husband hadn’t gambled it all away.
“What a day,” I murmur.
He reaches across to tenderly trace his fingertips down the back of my neck, but when I glance at him, he looks troubled.
“How are you holding up?” I ask as he returns his hand to the table.
“I’m okay,” he replies in a low voice. “I just can’t stop thinking about Jackson. I wasn’t expecting him to be like that.”
“Neither was I, to be honest. He and his mum are close. But he knows the difference between right and wrong.”
He sighs heavily. “Unlike me. I feel like such a—” He mutters something derogatory-sounding in French.
I cover his hand with mine. “No one could blame you for wanting to hit back at the people who’d hurt you and your mum.”
“He didn’t have anything to do with it though. It was just Sandrine.”
“Hey, this whole thing with Jackson—you didn’t act alone,” I remind him.
“I was playing games too. I wanted him to feel some of the pain that I’ve felt over the years.
We’ve all made decisions that have hurt people, but we’re only human.
And we’re accountable for our mistakes. We’ll get past this: I promise you we will. ”
He nods, releasing a long breath.
I hesitate. “One thing I still don’t understand is why you gave us permission to use your mum’s artwork. If you’d wanted to screw Jackson over, you could have pulled out at the last minute.”
“I want her to be a part of the story,” he explains. “The story of this town. She deserves it. Her art deserves it. Her ancestors deserve it. Eau de Sainte églantine is her legacy too.”
“You’re right. And I’m glad you feel that way.”
He sighs again. “After dinner, I want to wash this day off.”
“Swim in the river?”
“Will you join me?” he asks.
“Do you promise to rescue me if I get in too deep?”
“You can always count on me to do that.”
I return his smile, tears pricking my eyes. “Likewise.”
We’re in the kitchen, grabbing what we need to set the table, when we hear a car pull up. We stare at each other for a beat and then both go to look out the window.
I gasp at the sight of the little red Peugeot. “That’s Albert’s car. Please,” I implore at étienne’s panicked expression. “Albert’s not like Sandrine. Give him a chance.”
“Fuck,” he mumbles, dragging his hand through his hair and looking torn.
I flatten my palm to his back, pausing a moment to see if he’ll give me instructions, but he seems to be lost for words. He waits behind while I go and answer the door.
Albert is just getting out of the car—he’s alone. He glances toward the house, his white hair blowing in the breeze, and does a double take when he sees me.
“Oh, Albert,” I say with dismay, stepping outside.
“How could she do it?” he asks with anguish when I reach him.
“I don’t know.”
“Is he here?” He looks shattered.
I nod. “He’s inside.” As we walk across the drive, étienne appears in the doorway.
Albert comes to a sudden stop. “Mon Dieu,” he whispers with shock as he stares at his grandson.
“You look just like my boy,” he adds in a small voice.
“I’m so sorry.” He shakes his head helplessly.
“I’m so sorry for my daughter. I didn’t know.
If I had known—” His face crumples and the next thing I know étienne is striding toward Albert and folding him in his arms.
I’m reeling, but at the same time, I can’t imagine him acting any other way. Albert’s shoulders heave as he breaks down. étienne looks past him at me, his eyes shining. I’m fighting back tears myself.
“I can’t believe how much you look like Sébastien,” Albert says as he pulls away to study étienne’s face.
There are familial resemblances between Albert and étienne too: the profile of their noses and the span of their eyebrows. They’re of a similar height and build and even their shoulders have the same square shape about them.
“But you look like your mother too,” Albert adds, sounding choked. “I am so sorry you lost them both.”
“Thank you,” étienne murmurs.
Albert meets my eyes. “How can I ever forgive her for this?”
“It’s a lot to take in,” I concede.
“Come inside,” étienne encourages.
“What a lovely place you have,” Albert comments as he takes in his surroundings.
étienne has been patching up the plasterwork so the house is a dappled mix of gray and apricot, but the sun has not yet slipped behind the mountains so everything is bathed in evening light.
“It still needs a lot of work,” étienne replies with a shrug as he waves us through the open doorway ahead of him. “But we’re getting there.” He smiles at me as he pulls the door closed.
He seems remarkably calm.
“Oh no,” Albert says when he spies the saucepan on the hob. “I’ve interrupted your dinner.”
“It’s okay,” étienne reassures him. He glances at me hesitantly before offering, “Would you like to stay? We’re having coq au vin.”
Albert’s expression brightens. “Do you have enough to go around?”
“More than enough,” étienne replies. “What would you like to drink?”
“Why don’t you take Albert to the terrace?” I suggest. “I’ll bring dinner out.”
“Are you sure?” étienne checks.
“Absolutely.”
When they’ve gone, I nip back out the front door and hurry down the lane until my phone picks up reception. I call Jackson.
“Did you know Albert was coming here to Les Saules?” I ask when he answers.
“Shit, really? No, I didn’t.”
“He just turned up, out of the blue.”
“Sorry. I would have warned you if I’d known.”
“Don’t worry, there’s no reception at the house anyway.”
“He just said that he wanted some air and was going out for a drive. I offered to go with him, but he claimed he needed space. How’s it going?”
“Really well,” I reply with a smile. “I’ve left them inside, bonding.”
“That’s good.” He sounds despondent.
“Are you okay?” I ask tentatively. This has been a lot for him to take in too.
“Not really,” he replies gruffly. “I’ve never seen Albie so upset. He flew off the handle, told Mom he couldn’t bear to look at her. She’s packing her things right now.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Yeah, she’s taken it very literally. She wants to go back to America.”
“She’s flying home? Tonight?” I ask with alarm.
“More likely tomorrow, by the time she gets organized.”
“Does Albert know?”
“I don’t think so. I’m letting her do her thing right now. She might need to figure this one out on her own—it’s fucked up, what she’s done.”
He’s right. Nothing excuses her behavior; it doesn’t matter how insecure she used to be.
“I’m so sorry. This is all such a mess.”
“Like you said, now we’ve just got to put things right. I’m glad Albie found his way over there. I didn’t realize I was giving him directions when he asked where the house was.”
When I get back to the kitchen, I can hear Albert and étienne outside, talking to each other in French. It makes my heart squeeze to hear them conversing in their native language, grandfather to grandson. It’s the way it should be.
I’m more determined than ever to improve my own language skills.
They switch to English when I walk outside and set the pot on the table.
“I’ve just been telling étienne that I have photos of his mother at the factory,” Albert says as étienne jumps up to pull out a chair for me. “We used to take big group shots of all the workers. She’ll be in some of them with Sébastien.”
“I’d love to see them too.”
“We should all go to the factory together!” Albert exclaims.
étienne shoots me a startled look. The corners of my lips turn down.
“I’m rushing ahead, aren’t I?” Albert says apologetically, noticing our exchange.
“You’ll have lots of time to get to know each other,” I reply softly.
Albert is strong and healthy. Even after everything that’s been thrown at him, he’s still smiling, still enduring, still squaring up to life, just as étienne is. I’m sure he’ll be around to make lots of happy memories.
“It’s my eightieth birthday soon,” Albert says suddenly. “Perhaps you’ll come to that?”
étienne looks uncomfortable. “I think it’s best if I avoid your daughter for a while.”
“I actually just spoke to Jackson,” I confess, causing them both to look at me. “Sandrine is packing her bags. Apparently she’s going home.”
Albert reels backward. “She’s leaving?”
“Yes, although I’m not sure when.”
His shoulders droop. “It’s probably for the best.”
“You’re not going to try to stop her?” I ask with surprise, feeling a small stab of sympathy for Sandrine.
He shakes his head. “Not this time. Space will be good. I will try to smooth things over before she leaves.” He reaches across and covers étienne’s hand with his. “At some point we each need to let go of the past and enjoy the time we have left.”
“Grace said a similar thing,” étienne replies, swiping my hand with his free one and lifting it to his lips. He presses a gentle kiss to my knuckles.
We smile at each other. When I return my gaze to Albert, he gives me a meaningful look.
“Does Jackson know?” He indicates étienne.
“He does,” I confirm quietly.
He nods with acceptance, but his features are tinged with sadness.
I wasn’t aware that Albert knew of my history with Jackson—our near misses rather than our friendship. But it’s clear that he’s been a silent spectator all along, watching things play out over the years.
All of a sudden, his face breaks into a grin and he perks up. “At least we still keep it in the family, right?” He waggles his bushy eyebrows for effect.
I can’t help but laugh.
He leaves us to it eventually, claiming that he should probably go home and speak to his daughter, but he asks if he can visit étienne at his garage sometime.
He’s keen to see the ex-competition rally car étienne bought recently and I wouldn’t be surprised if he, étienne, and Mellie all ended up watching WRC together at some point.
After seeing the Michèle Mouton documentary, I’m keen to watch a few stages myself.
étienne and I stand on the doorstep and watch Albert drive away. He sticks his hand out of his window and waves vigorously until he disappears from sight. étienne and I wave back at him and then drop our hands, laughing at each other.
“Do you like him?” I already know the answer, but I want to hear him say it.
He nods. “I do.”
“At least you won’t feel sick when you see him around town now. Or me, for that matter,” I add with a grimace.
His expression sobers. “I’m sorry I said that.” He pulls me into his arms. “I used to hate that you were the link between me and them, but now I’m glad that you’ve brought us together.”
“Like a stepping stone,” I say with a grin, standing on my tiptoes and pressing my nose to his.
He laughs and kisses me. “Swim,” he says firmly as he breaks away.
“All right, bossy.”
The sun has disappeared behind the mountains, but the river is warm. I’m standing up to my waist in water with my arms around étienne’s neck. Goose bumps rush over my skin as we kiss each other, deep and slow.
My heart is full tonight.
I hope that, for the first time in a long while, his is too.