“There’s a ladder here in the stern, in case you want to ease into the sea that way. I recommend a quick entry, though.” He gave her a sly look. They shared a laugh as their eyes met and registered the possible double entendre.
Arianna thought, We are adults after all.
Jacques went belowdecks to change, and Arianna wondered if he would appear in a tiny Speedo-type bathing suit, like so many Frenchmen wore. For a moment, she considered putting on her bathing suit but couldn’t quite get past her hang-up.
When Jacques reappeared, Arianna felt a certain relief that he was wearing a typical North American–style bathing suit.
He gave her a teasing look. “Ha-ha! You thought I would be wearing one of those skimpy French bathing suits, didn’t you?”
She chuckled and nodded, looking a little abashed.
“As a matter of fact, I have a couple of them. But I thought you might feel uncomfortable about it . . . many North Americans do. Do you know why we wear those in France?”
She shook her head.
“It’s the law in pools. Only small, tight trunks can be used for swimming in pools. The reasoning is that bigger swimming shorts can be worn elsewhere all day, so could bring in sand, dust, or other matter, disturbing the water quality. That’s the way it’s been ever since pools were first opened in France. So we’re used to that here and scoff at tourists in their baggy suits.”
“Hmm, I just thought French men liked them,” Arianna confessed.
“Well, we do . . . or nothing! That’s very much the French way too. We are naturistes at heart.”
Arianna saw the teasing gleam in his eyes and couldn’t help laughing.
He nodded as he continued. “Really, though, that’s changing at the beaches these days, and more men are wearing looser suits. I might show you the latest style another time. It’s more of a James Bond look.” He winked.
Arianna laughed again, happy that they could talk so candidly.
In a moment, Jacques’s taut, tanned body performed a more-than-adequate dive off the side of the boat. He surfaced after a long underwater glide and beckoned to her to join him. “C’est magnifique! Rafraîchissant! Vraiment!”
Arianna waved back. “Enjoy it!”
He turned and swam away with strong, clean strokes. She watched him swim toward shore and reprimanded herself for being so self-conscious. She had a lovely new bathing suit, chosen with Faith’s help for her trip. She never truly thought she would have the occasion to wear it, since the mas did not have a pool. But she had packed it just in case she wanted it on her planned road trip to the French Riviera, which now wasn’t happening,
Jacques continued to swim toward the shore. Arianna could see that the beach was pebbly, like the ones she had read about in Nice and other parts of the Riviera. She had memories of beaches of soft golden sand in Greece and was curious about the French ones like these.
She had to admit she was getting very hot and sweaty. After ten minutes, she went and changed into her bathing suit. It was a deep-blue, strapless, bandeau style with ruching across the midriff. Advertising assured her she would look fifteen pounds lighter immediately, not that she believed it.
She brought a matching sheer cover-up outside with her and laid it on the bench. Then she began to descend the ladder.
She shivered involuntarily as the water reached the top of her legs and again as her midriff slipped below. Now she let go and swam on her back away from the boat. Turning, she looked toward shore but could not see Jacques. Then she heard a loud whistle and saw him standing on the beach waving to her.
She waved back and continued floating where she was. The sea felt revitalizing and not so cold once you got in. The sun warmed her face. Ahhhhhh—Jacques was right. Rafraîchissant!
After ten minutes or so, she swam back to the boat and climbed the ladder. After lying in the sun for a few minutes, she was dry. She watched Jacques cutting through the water toward Mon Esprit. She felt herself tremble with anticipation at his return and slipped her cover-up over her shoulders.
Jacques floated and swam around the boat for a few minutes, and they chatted back and forth about the water. He smiled when Arianna praised him for his assessment of how much she would enjoy it. “You were absolutely right. It felt incredibly refreshing!”
“Your bathing suit is very nice,” he said with a roguish expression, calling up to her as he floated on his back. “You look gorgeous.”
Arianna glanced away and grinned self-consciously. “Stop it. Thank you.”
As he began to climb up the ladder, Arianna picked up a towel to hand to him. He stepped into the stern and reached for the towel. Holding on to Arianna’s hand, he let the towel slip from her grasp and gently pulled her to him.
His cool, wet, hard body felt exciting against hers. His lips brushed hers gently at first, and hers eagerly responded. Then their mouths met in a kiss that was fervidly urgent. His lips tasted subtly of salt. He smelled of fresh sea air.
His hands tenderly caressed her as Arianna wrapped her arms around his neck. She felt herself melting into the irresistible chemistry between them and arched her body into his. Her cover-up fell to the deck.
Jacques pulled his head back, his fingers now passionately entangled in her hair as their eyes met. Arianna felt an intimacy between them that only began with this kiss. She closed her eyes as he kissed her cheeks, her forehead, and the tip of her nose before his lips found hers again. Her lips parted slightly beneath this kiss, and, with the tentative dance of their tongues, Arianna breathed a low moan.
Now she stepped back, her eyes locked on to his. She took his hand and led him belowdecks to her cabin.
Jacques made her laugh as he dropped his bathing suit to his ankles. “Another good thing about loose swimsuits.”
Without waiting, he helped her slip out of hers. “I knew you would look irresistible in your bathing suit. I told you so. And out of it, even more.”
Arianna pulled him onto the bed with her.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Over the next four days, Arianna and Jacques cruised from one idyllic cove to the next. In the evenings, they watched sunsets and danced under the moonlight. They decided to take their time . . . with both their lovemaking and their sailing. They would get where they wanted in due course.
In between, they sketched and painted. Arianna could not believe the stock of art supplies Jacques kept in his storage cabin. “One-stop shopping, madame.”
Arianna had felt intimidated about working on her art next to such an experienced talent. But as time passed, and with all the positive conversations they shared about technique and subject matter, she soon got over her anxieties.
As they talked or walked or sailed or painted or made love, Jacques would make occasional suggestions to her about the future.
“Nothing is carved in stone, as they say,” they both repeated.
Arianna was aware she felt no guilt about her decisions. It was as if, once her spirit was awakened at the Mas des Artistes, she had given herself permission to move forward with her life and her emotions.
Their evening ritual was to sit up on the bow, arms around each other, legs entwined. They would sip on wine as they watched one magnificent sunset after another. Arianna loved resting her body against him, breathing him in, knowing that his love was offered to her and hers to him.
They would not speak about the future during sunsets. They would focus only on the moment.
As the stars appeared, Jacques would quote Vincent to Arianna, and she would kiss him lightly on his face, his shoulders, his back. The gentle sway of the sea would lightly rock the boat as the calm blanket of night settled over them.
During the day, there were times for more serious conversation about possibilities. About the fact that every day was a gift and nothing was promised . . . but, even so, that making plans was something they wanted to do.
On their last scheduled day together, they settled into a mooring at a dock in another fjordlike inle
t carved into the jagged limestone cliffs.
“Let’s pack a lunch and hike up. You should see this,” Jacques said.
The climb was steep. The mistral had made the trail even more unstable, as the ground was dry and crumbly. Jacques explained how the inland trails were all closed through the summer because of forest-fire danger. “This is the best time to walk this area. On the other side of Marseille, there are even more breathtaking trails and scenes you would love to paint.”
They stopped several times to drink water and catch their breath. Arianna was not surprised at his fitness. “I’ve got some work to do to keep up with you, if you take me on any more of these hikes,” she said.
Once they reached the top, the natural grandeur of the vista was spectacular. They shaded their eyes from the strong sun reflected in the sea. The brilliant gemlike hues of the clear, crystalline water ranged from turquoise to deep blue, stretching off into the distance. Steep silvery limestone cliffs tumbled into the waves.
“A scene waiting to be painted,” Arianna murmured.
“And this is nothing compared to the calanques east of Marseille. If you stay longer, I will show you those.”
Jacques took Arianna into his arms.
As she had the entire week, she felt secure in his embrace in a way she had almost forgotten. The stirrings deep within her were not the excited butterflies of younger years. Instead, she was overcome by an irresistible swell of tranquility mixed with desire.
“There’s so much more for us to explore together,” Jacques whispered, his voice catching with emotion. “Don’t go. Stay with me.”
Arianna listened to the beat of her heart. Her peace was within.
“You know I have to leave tomorrow,” she said.
“And why is that?” he asked.
“Because that’s the plan. I have a ticket.”
“Plans can always be changed.”
“I’ve heard that from you before.” She laughed with a lightness in her spirit she thought had been lost forever.
EPILOGUE
In the end, Jacques did persuade Arianna to change her plans.
As they cruised toward the city, he told her about his apartment in the old port area of Marseille. He and Giselle had owned it as a rental property.
He explained to Arianna that, for years, he had alternated between the manade, his boat, and their larger apartment. “She worked crazy shifts at the hospital and then was away with MSP. We lived our own lives in many ways . . . a lot like gypsies, I must admit. And I became even more that way after Giselle was gone.”
After Giselle was killed, he sold their large condo where she had lived most of the time. “I moved into the smaller apartment and continued to live my nomadic ways. It’s time for a change.”
As he held Arianna’s hand and stroked her face, he asked, “Why leave when we have only just discovered each other? I know you have things to take care of . . . and much thinking to do. I respect that. But why not stay just a little longer so we can see where this is going?”
And so more phone calls were made, and Arianna planned to stay with Jacques in Marseille for another month.
Jacques returned to the manade for the week. Arianna remained in his apartment in Marseille, finding pleasing surprises as she explored the ancient city. Next to the warrens of the old town, exciting things were happening around the newly remodeled Vieux-Port. There was much to discover.
She went to be with Jacques in Arles on the weekend. It was exciting to be caught up in the festive atmosphere created by the gardians and horses working with the bulls, the courses camarguaises, costumes, music, and dance. He surprised her by inviting Juliette and Maurice to go to the feria with her. As they warmly welcomed Arianna back to Arles, Maurice said, “Juliette told me when she watched you two talking at our picnic she knew it was le coup de foudre—love at first sight.”
After that weekend, Jacques went back and forth to the manade when his services were needed. Often, he was able to stay days at a time in the apartment in Marseilles with Arianna and gradually introduced her to the city he knew so well. They spent time exploring on the boat and hiking the sentiers between the calanques, which were as magnificent as he had promised.
Slowly, they settled into a rhythm together in the apartment. Arianna appreciated the freedom she felt to pursue her interests. One spacious sunlit room of the apartment was his studio. He made room for her to work there too. Her first piece was a vibrant, sun-washed poppy field.
She quickly became aware, in spite of his modesty, that Jacques was a well-established artist, represented by galleries in Paris, Marseille, and New York.
Arianna investigated art programs at the Aix-Marseille University and other studios in the city. She was committed to immersing herself in her life as an artist again. Jacques had many suggestions and plans to offer.
Marseille intrigued her. Jacques’s intimate knowledge of the ancient city brought it to life for her. She discovered the lively old port neighborhood to be an artist’s dream.
She returned to Toronto at the end of that month. Her visits with Ben were brief and painful. He lay or sat silently with no awareness of anyone or anything around him, staring ahead blankly.
Ben reacted violently to being touched, so she could not even hug him. All she could do was stand or sit and stare at him through tears she could not control. Heartbreaking sorrow wrapped around Arianna each time she was with him.
Gradually she accepted the urging of the staff and her family that it was better for her to be away.
There were many long, tearful family conversations. There was no question, they agreed, that what was best was not always easy. They were unanimous, though, about the reality that Ben would live in all their hearts forever.
Sophia, Faith, Tad, and Christine listened with surprise and compassion as Arianna described her newfound love of life, art, and, in time, Jacques. They understood her desire for another chance at happiness.
Gloria held Arianna in her arms as they stood together at Ben’s bedside. “You must live your life. Ben would want you to do that. Don’t feel guilty. Feel hopeful. It’s the only way to move forward.”
Arianna cried as she placed her wedding band and engagement ring in the family safe-deposit box at the bank. She vowed she would never marry again. She was simply Arianna. And she would always take care of Ben.
The new owners of Papa’s on the Danforth purchased her apartment. Her furniture and boxes of possessions were put in storage.
Faith left to go to Lesvos to reconnect with family. Arianna made plans to take Sophia there for a visit once Faith was settled.
After a month at home, Arianna returned to an emotional reunion with Jacques in Marseille. They knew they had both found what they hadn’t known they were looking for. Taking their time, they began to figure out their life together.
One year and three months later, after several visits to Toronto, Arianna received the call in Marseille.
Within hours, she was on a flight to Toronto and went straight to Ben’s bedside upon arrival. She held Ben’s hand and kissed his forehead as he took his last breaths. As death was claiming him, she could touch him once again. She had never stopped loving him, in spite of the decisions she had made in the past year. Tad and Christine sat with her, recalling happier times and the strong memories they had of so many good years.
The plan had been made much earlier. One month later, the entire family met with Faith on Lesvos, bringing the ashes of Ben and Nikos with them.
Sophia was elated to be back in her homeland, past hurts forgiven. Bringing the ashes of Nikos back here with his beloved son-in-law felt right to everyone. They had been such kindred spirits, loving Greece in so many ways.
There was almost a celebratory air among the family. Peace had been made with the relatives, who joined them now on a family fishing boat that took them all out to sea.
As the ashes were gently released into the shimmering sea, there was a sense of relief that suffering was
over and healing now could truly occur.
Both Ben and Nikos had left a legacy of love that would last forever. Tears mixed with laughter as words of remembrance recounted the joy these men had brought to others. The years they had lived were celebrated.
Arianna looked over at Jacques, who was standing at the helm with her cousin. Her eyes glistened with tears of gratitude for the life she had shared with Ben and with hope for what was to come.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Writing this novel was a challenging experience at times as I ventured into new subject matter of illness and art. I hope you enjoyed the story as much as I loved writing it, even as my heart broke at times with Arianna and her family. It was my pleasure to bring you along to Arles and the Camargue, with the unique beauty, culture, and history of the area. Spending weeks researching in that part of France was a singular delight.
Please read the acknowledgments, where I have thanked many people for their invaluable assistance.
Thank you to everyone who has written to me through the years or messaged me on social media. I love hearing from readers! I’m also grateful to the many reviewers and bloggers who take the time to read my novels and write about them. I value your thoughts and opinions, so please continue to share them with me at [email protected].
Have you signed up for my newsletter? It goes out once a month with all sorts of contests and information about what’s coming next. Just click on “subscribe” at my website at patriciasandsauthor.com.
Anytime you take a moment to write a review, please know your efforts are appreciated. Comments from readers are helpful and inspiring to me. You are the reason I write, and your words encourage others to read my books. Merci mille fois! Thanks a million!
And now . . . on to the next book. See you there!
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It takes a village, as the saying goes. In order for a manuscript to reach that exciting point where it is finally ready to publish, a great deal of support and assistance is essential. I’m grateful to everyone who contributed in his or her own personal way to bringing Drawing Lessons to readers.
Drawing Lessons Page 31
