Chapter 18
Dawn’s pink, then violet, then golden light bathed the courtyard.
Snow covered everything like a layer of sparkling icing.
The silence was as blissful as a cup of hot chocolate.
Despite spending the night staring out the window, searching her childhood memories, Claire had no deeper insight into her mother.
In her heart, she knew she was nothing like her mother.
Claire had made certain of that because her mother was not liked by anyone.
Even as a child, when neighbors saw them walking down the sidewalk, they crossed the street.
In church, she and her mother often sat alone in the pew, not joined even by members of the clergy.
While her mother had no confidants, Claire befriended nearly every girl at boarding school.
Her mother was an attorney, obsessed with words.
Claire was a designer, obsessed with colorful fabrics, sensual textures, and the mechanics of a built-in life preserver.
Her mother never cooked. Once David taught her how, they cooked together most every meal, and David complimented her on having the knack.
She guessed her knack came from sitting in front of the kitchen fireplace while the nuns whipped up hearty stews and wholesome desserts.
They often involved her in sifting and stirring and chopping, although, unlike Sister Georgette, none of them offered her a teacup of brandy.
A warm fondness filling her heart made her promise herself to pay Sister Georgette another visit before she returned home.
Brenda Lee’s Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree erupted in the courtyard and pushed Claire to get ready to meet her husband’s son.
She closed the drapes. Eyeing the beribboned package holding the dog-puppet, she decided to save it for another day.
If the meeting didn’t go well, she could use delivering the gift as an excuse to see him again.
She picked up the box of Sister Georgette’s cookies and wished she’d bought two more, but she was glad she had one to give Gilbert.
She’d have something to hold onto. Omitting the truth wasn’t exactly lying to Luca, but her agreement with Gilbert still bothered her.
The boy had lost so much, and she didn’t want to worsen his grief with news of his father’s death, as Gilbert had cautioned her.
But would Luca feel betrayed when they finally told him?
She didn’t know how children think, much less how they process grief.
She was not Luca’s mother, and she needed to honor Gilbert’s decision.
At the top of the steps, Claire clutched the cookie box and gazed down at her husband’s son. Standing below the chandelier, Gilbert held Luca’s hand. Both sported red berets. Luca’s smile warmed her like Sister Georgette’s kitchen.
Lured by his smile, she descended.
As she reached the last step, Gilbert removed his cap. “Claire, may I present my son, Luca?”
Luca whipped off his cap and gave a quick bow. “I am enchanté to meet you Madame Claire.” His brown eyes and curls glowed against his white parka.
Her heart battered her ribs. His accent was sweet, like syrup on crêpes. “I am enchanté to meet you, Luca.” She descended the last step and extended her hand to shake.
He lightly held her fingers and kissed them, his eyes sparkling.
“You are a very charming gentleman.” Her voice cracked. “And you speak English so well.”
Luca’s dimples intensified his dazzling smile. “You are very pretty, like Papa David said.”
Her legs weakened. She stepped back, dropped the box of cookies, reached for the balustrade, and lowered herself onto the third step. The hotel lobby pressed around her.
Gilbert rushed to her, gripped her elbow. “Are you feeling unwell?” Lines creased his forehead.
“You said he didn’t know,” she whispered.
The pain in his eyes answered her. He hadn’t known Luca knew about her.
She wiped perspiration from her upper lip. Her legs stretched over the steps before her, like a toddler’s. “Just a bit dizzy. I guess I should have had a bigger breakfast.”
Gilbert picked up the cookie box and placed it on the step beside her. “Can I get you a glass of water?”
“No. I’m fine. Just need a minute.”
Worrying his hat, Luca looked up at her. His eyes held pure innocence. “You are Papa David’s wife.”
She glanced at Gilbert, but he closed his eyes. She was on her own. Something hard, like a chunk of ice, sat in her throat.
Luca’s smile was broad, proud.
She was sure Gilbert told her Luca didn’t know David was married. She swallowed against the lump. “Did…” she struggled to find words. “Did your Papa David tell you about me?”
“He showed me pictures of you, and your maillots, on his mobile.” Luca climbed the first two steps until he was face-to-face with her. “Where is Papa David?”
Gilbert’s mouth contorted, pressing against emotions more than words, Claire suspected. He put his hand on his son’s shoulder.
Claire didn’t care what she’d promised Gilbert—she owed David’s son the truth. If she lied, it would only be worse for Luca later. A pressure built in her. She raised an eyebrow to Gilbert, and he nodded.
Putting her arm around Luca, she inhaled his little boy scent of brioche and Nutella. No matter how this beautiful boy came into her life, he was a part of David, and she cherished them both.
Gilbert stood above them, his face awash in sorrow, his fist pressing against his mouth.
She pulled Luca up onto her lap and swallowed against the hard thing in her throat. “David hasn’t visited in a long time, has he?”
Luca shook his head. “I hope he is not buying our competitors’ wines.”
Gilbert let go of a sob-laugh.
David would have found Luca’s comment sad-funny as well.
“He would have visited you if he could…” Claire hugged Luca to her; stroked his unruly curls from his eyes; cupped his cheek. “But he couldn’t…because he passed away.” She held him gently, like he might break, giving him the freedom to flee if he wished.
“Oh… Like Maman.” He leaned his head against her shoulder and let out a long, shuddering sigh. “When did he die?”
Claire exchanged a worried glance with Gilbert. She didn’t know why David had told Luca about her but not her about Luca. A sense of betrayal slid through her. She pushed her own feelings aside. She had to support this boy in his grief, and she would not lie. She would be strong for Luca.
She held him close and spoke softly. “Last year in September—right before he was going to visit you. I didn’t know about you then, otherwise I would have come to tell you much sooner.”
Luca searched her eyes, making Claire glad she’d been honest with him, even if Gilbert was angry with her. “How did he die?”
“His heart stopped working. It was very sudden.”
“Oh.” He gently kicked his legs, like he was ridding himself of stress. “I am glad he was not sick for a long time, like Maman. Do you think he is in heaven with her?”
“Yes, I believe they are both in heaven.”
He wrapped his arms around her neck. “Don’t cry, Madame Claire.” He patted her back.
She held him, felt the weight of him, felt him sigh and inhale a shaky breath.
A warmth she’d never known bloomed in her, enabling her to comfort Luca, and at the same time realizing he comforted her—like giant arms cradled and warmed and protected them both.
The feeling was holy, like an aura surrounding them.
She understood now, the paintings of the Virgin Mary and her child.
Motherhood was holy. She basked in the sacredness of holding and comforting David’s son, never wanting the moment to end, knowing she would love and protect this child for the rest of her life.
She felt sorry for her mother, then, never knowing the comfort Claire could have given her. Sister Georgette was right. Her mother had missed out on loving her beautiful daughter. And Claire was grateful beyond imagination that she had this opportunity to love David’s beautiful son.
Luca straightened. “You must miss him beaucoup…much. And you must be very sad.” He looked up at Gilbert. “Are you sad, too, Onc?”
Gilbert nodded. “David was my very good friend.” He dragged his fist across his mouth.
She imagined he was suppressing his pain.
Claire had been so concerned about Luca she hadn’t grasped Gilbert’s loss, and she longed to help him recover from his grief.
David had given Gilbert’s sister what she desired most in life.
Gilbert must have loved David very much for not only his generosity, but also for giving them both a son.
Luca hugged Claire. “I am sad not to see Papa David anymore, but I am glad he sent you to us. He told us many stories about your…maillots?”
“Swimsuits.” Claire squeezed Luca and held on for dear life, trying not to cry. She breathed slowly until she calmed. “I am very glad to be with you. Your Papa David loved you so, so very much.”
Luca let out a long sigh and stood, looking up at Gilbert and then Claire. “Do you want to go with us to Strasbourg? Papa David loved the city. It is very pretty, and the trip will help us feel less sad.”
The heaviness in Claire drained. “How do you feel, Luca?”
He rubbed his hand in circles on his chest. “It hurts here, but I know it is because I am sad and missing my maman and papa.” He examined his fingers like a toy he’d never seen.
“But Papa David told me that he would always be in my heart.” He pressed his fingers on his chest. “And I feel him right here, right now.” He tilted his head; his face was serious. “Do you feel him in your heart?”
Claire nodded. “Always.”
“Then let us take Papa David with us to Strasbourg.”
His simple logic tugged a smile from her. “He would like that very much.”
Gilbert bent down and lifted Luca, settling the boy on his shoulders. “Ready?”
“Allons-y!” Luca looked down at Claire. “That means, let us go!” His excited voice possessed David’s enthusiasm and joy.
Gilbert helped Claire stand and gave her the envelope. She picked up the box of cookies and walked to the front desk.
Madame Justine wiped her eyes and replaced her glasses. “Forgive me for listening, but I am so very sorry about Monsieur David,” she whispered.
“Thank you.” Claire held out the envelope. “Would you have someone put this in my room please?”
“I will do it, myself.”
Claire didn’t care that Madame Justine probably thought David had been unfaithful to her.
What other people thought just didn’t matter.
What mattered now was Luca. She didn’t know how she’d do it, but she would help him heal.
And a couple of cookies could help them all feel a bit better for a few moments.
She walked out into the day, her heart heavy. Why did David not tell her about Luca, but he told Luca about her?