by R E Swirsky
CHAPTER 62
Monday 13:21 Mediterranean coast near Golfe de Saint-Tropez, France
Two full days had passed since Nathaniel had learned what he believed to be the truth. He hoped to hear from either Jack or Lucas, but so far there was no word from either. And there was always Geordie, but hearing anything further from him was very unlikely.
Meagan laughed in the back seat. He could see her in the rear view mirror as she stared down, her eyes glued to the screen of her smart phone. Ellen leaned over to see what was so funny, and giggled as well. “He’s such an idiot,” she said and tapped away with her thumbs on her own phone. Those two could be anywhere on the planet at that moment, both happily bubblized in their own online world.
Diane sat beside him and stared out the window, catching every glimpse of the Mediterranean Sea she could. The deep, teal-blue sea with slivers of whitecaps popped in and out of view, contrasting perfectly against the pallid-coloured buildings along the coastal road. She seemed distant, maybe content, and it all coincided with the sudden silence of his cell phones.
Today they were headed south to a place along the coast she had found on Golfe de Saint-Tropez, a small, cozy cottage with pale, stone-coloured walls resting on the Mediterranean water’s edge. They would spend a few days there, followed by a quick loop up through the mountains, zigzagging their way back and forth across the borders, and back to Paris just in time to catch the flight home.
When he first woke many hours ago, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the Crowders were at risk. But what was he to do? It stung that he had been so easily duped by those to whom he surrendered all trust without question. His worry ate away at him all through breakfast, and when his girls jumped onto their phones the moment Diane said it was okay, he did the same and googled the news back home, searching for any mysterious death or accident that could be any one or all of the Crowders. He came up empty.
Thoughts of his very first visit to Hotel La Sapiniere stole their way into his troubled mind. He was single back then. Diane didn’t enter the picture until many years later. And then, when the next annual meeting arose, she accepted his lie that he was headed out skiing for a few days. Over the years, it was clear his lies had become her truths—decades of lies. He studied her for a moment as the water continued to capture every part of her attention. She turned and flashed a quick smile at him, as if sensing his gaze. Her eyes danced brightly in the reflected sunlight before she let herself get carried back out to sea.
It was fleeting, but he felt it. He saw it in her eyes and he felt it flow from her smile—that particular smile. She knows. Exactly what she knows, he couldn’t tell, and maybe would never know. He continued driving and studied her again as her mind rode the crests far out against the horizon. And then, as if she was reading his mind again, she reached out with one hand and patted him on the arm ever so gently.
It was enough to make him understand that he was never to ask what she knew or how much she understood.
Hours passed as he navigated the twisting coastal road. The girls surfed the web and chatted with friends back home, and Diane remained quiet and pleased that she had all of him once again. He sensed this was all she had ever wanted, hoped, and waited so patiently for. And for another few days, that was how it was going to be. He would give her those days, and nothing seemed more important than to put Diane’s wishes and his family first.
But it didn’t mean this business with Geordie was over. It would only just get started once this vacation was over. He tried to turn his thoughts away from it, but it always boomeranged right back.
This last week made him feel like a marshmallow—stuck up the backside with a big, long stick and stretched out over a fire, roasting away, not quite on fire, but oh so very close to combusting, all the while believing there was a purpose to it all. And Geordie’s hands were wrapped tight around the thick end of that stick.
One thing Geordie said stuck in his mind, and as hard as he tried to pry it up, it refused to lift: No one on my team gets to go play in the sandbox until they’ve finished the round.
But was the round even over?
