Epilogue
Dry leaves swirled around their feet as Gabrielle and Andrew strolled, hand in hand, along the paths of Jardin des Plantesin the cool October breeze. Autumn had come early to France, and she shivered, wishing she’d worn her favourite green sweater under her jacket. Andrew slipped an arm around her waist, holding her close and dropping a kiss into the cloud of black hair that twined about her head.
“Do you want to go back?” he asked. She snuggled closer, drawing from the warmth of his love.
“No. You haven’t had a break from the shop in ages. Besides, I love it here. It clears the mind.”
“Still worrying about your latest client?” he asked with a frown.
Gabrielle smiled up at him. “No. I decided to leave those concerns at work, although that girl does present an interesting case.”
“You’ll help her,” he said with confidence. “You always do.”
They passed beneath the bare branches of the cherry tree where they’d taken their first walk together. Andrew reached up, trailing an arm through the stiffened limbs. “Thanks,” he said softly.
“You’re talking to trees now, are you?” she teased.
“This one, yes. It was instrumental in convincing you to accept a guy like me. Now we’re an old married couple of…” he lifted a hand and counted before he said, “two months, I felt a little gratitude was in order.”
She giggled. “Tu as raison.”
“I know I’m right,” he said, pulling her closer.
She’d been speaking in her native tongue more and more as the weeks had flown by. Andrew was improving all the time. It was amazing how far he’d come in such a short while. He’d even said his marriage vows in French, and had understood every word, or so he had assured her.
She reflected on all that had transpired since the grand opening of Caviste de Tremblay. Further stories in newspapers and on television had ensured that the little shop was thriving. It remained busy with satisfied customers, almost from the moment it opened till the minute it closed each day. The neighbourhood had accepted Andrew with open arms. Many of them told stories of his bravery to the far reaches of the city. They bragged of him, their local hero, which brought business from well outside their area.
Annette worked in the shop a few evenings each week, in between her studies at the prestigious school she was now attending. She’d taken over Gabrielle’s apartment after their marriage and was happily ensconced in the chambres parmi les étoiles, as Gabrielle had always called it.
Andrew’s mother, Sophie, had arrived, as she had promised him she would, soon after the grand opening. Gabrielle loved her. She was tall and sandy-haired, like her son, with bobbed hair greying at the temples and the same icy blue eyes as her son. The woman loved to laugh and had a wonderful sense of humor. In a short time, she became like a second mother to Gabrielle, and she was sorry to see the lady depart for Canada. But Sophie had returned soon after with Andrew’s father in preparation for the wedding.
The rest of the family had all come for the late July nuptials. Gabrielle’s parents and Andrew’s sister Brielle arrived a week before in order to spend time with him and his parents. Andrew’s brother Jayke stayed home to continue working the farm, but didn’t miss the honour of being the best man on the wedding day itself.
Angelina and Julien were there with their two adorable children Celeste and Philippe. Elyse and Armand flew in from Florence, where they had been staying with friends, and Sarah and Rapha?l drove in for the day. Long after the ceremony, Sarah made the announcement that she and her dark-eyed husband were expecting their first child. There were hugs, kisses, and tears all around. It couldn’t have been more perfect when the day culminated with Andrew, playing his guitar and singing to his new bride his favourite Irish love song.
Gabrielle came back to the present with a thump as Andrew suddenly swung away from her and raced toward a line of tall trees. She called after him, wondering what in the world was happening now.
A shrill scream rent the air. Looking ahead along her husband’s trajectory, she saw a child dangling from a high branch of a sturdy oak. Gabrielle broke into a run herself, a lump of fear forming in her throat as she witnessed a woman, presumably the child’s mother, shriek as she rushed to the scene pushing a cumbersome baby stroller.
Andrew got there first. Raising his arms into the air, he shouted something and at that moment the youngster fell, dropping like a stone into his waiting arms. He went down onto his knees with the force of impact, but the little boy was unscathed. She watched as the mother threw herself first at her son, and then Andrew.
Gabrielle stopped. Panting and bent over double, she laughed until tears streamed from her eyes. It was to be expected. Andrew had rescued yet another wayward soul from a nasty fate. Love for him like she had never known possible consumed her. She walked toward him knowing every day would bring a new, and wonderful, exciting adventure.
After all, that was her husband—the Canadian cowboy. Otherwise known as Superman.
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A Garden of Promises
Elyse Belliveau tapped a nervous foot under the patio table. She should have retreated inside long ago, but the heavy umbrella over her head offered shade from the blazing heat of this late July afternoon in Provence. Folding her hands, she leaned into the cushions of her deck chair with a sigh. She’d been sitting in this exact spot for what felt like hours, staring alternately between the pages of a glossy magazine and her mobile phone. But she couldn’t concentrate.
Elyse stared across the glassy surface of the pool. Later, it would feel good to slip into the refreshing water and cool herself after another day of heat. But not now. Not when her thoughts were focused on her daughter-in-law, Angelina, lying on a hospital bed in Marseille.
She breathed deeply, allowing the calm serenity of her location to soothe her worried mind. She would not succumb to fear just because she hadn’t heard from Julien. It had only been twelve hours since he and Angelina had rushed away, and, after all, calling his mother would be the last thing on his mind. Still, she rechecked her phone, looking at its blank face and willing it to ring.
Setting it back onto the table, she picked up a newspaper this time and forced herself to look blankly at the front page. There was something about infrastructure improvements slated for the Port of Marseille, an unsolved murder on the streets of Paris, and a man evading the police after being caught on three charges of polygamy and fraud. The words blurred.
Elyse almost fell out of her chair when the phone burst into strident ringing. She snatched it up, fumbled, almost dropped it, and then lifted it to her ear with breathless anticipation, rising to her feet with excitement. The turquoise silk caftan she wore wafted around her bare feet.
“‘Allo,” she said in a croaky voice, tucking a lock of glossy chestnut hair behind her ear in an effort to hear as well as was humanly possible. Swallowing the concern she’d held at bay since early this morning, Elyse snatched a tissue from the nearby box. Poised and ready for the tears she knew would come, she listened intently. “Julien! I am so glad to ‘ear from you. What ‘as ‘appened? Is Angelina alright?”