From Daredevil to Devoted Daddy

by Barbara McMahon

  “So when can you be released?” she asked.

  “In a couple of days, depending on what happens with the concussion. And then only if I have a place to go where someone can watch me. Damn inconvenient, if you ask me.”

  “So you’ll be going home?” Of course he would. Sick people liked the comfort of their own homes while recuperating.

  “I don’t know. It’d be a long ride. Right now I don’t feel like sitting up, much less doing it for hours on end.”

  The silence stretched out. He was so still, she wondered if he’d fallen asleep. She didn’t want him to return home. She wanted him to stay with them.

  Then she said, “You could stay in Alexandre’s room. He has twin beds, not the biggest in the world, but I think you could manage.”

  “Thanks for the thought, but I don’t think I’m going to be the best patient in getting well.”

  She laughed. “What man is? Still, it might be better for you than going home alone. I mean, if you want to. I know Alexandre can be talkative, but I could keep him away. And you could sit on the veranda during the day and see the other guests. Read. Do whatever you want until you feel up to the long ride home.”

  He opened his eyes and looked into hers. “I’d be an extra burden. You said you had your life just as you liked it.”

  “It wouldn’t be that much. I’d be happy to do it.” Her heart began to race knowing just how happy she’d be to do it. She loved him. Anything to help would be a joy. And he’d stay just a little longer. She wouldn’t have to say goodbye so soon.

  She stared at him, her heart pounding. She loved Matthieu Sommer. Oh dear, when had that happened?

  “I’d have to pay my own way.”

  Jeanne-Marie recognized pride when she saw it. “Fine. Maybe I’ll charge in a bit extra for the waking service.” She was on tenterhooks in case he realized her feelings. Had she given herself away? Only by dashing to his side when he was hurt. Please let him think of that only as a kindness.

  She loved Matthieu Sommer and he had never given her any encouragement—except for those hot kisses, the joyful days at the fete and in Marseilles, and being so kind to her son.

  Closing his eyes again, he nodded. “Works for me.”

  She considered that, knowing she’d never charge him for anything she could do for him. “What arrangements will you need?”

  “I’ll check with the doctor as to when he’ll release me and for any special instructions. Probably say I shouldn’t go climbing again for a while.”

  “Wise advice,” she said. Why was she destined to fall in love with men who risked life and limb for a fleeting challenge of rocks and height? She looked at him and her heart melted. She caught her breath, realizing if he’d hit his head harder, if he’d fallen from a greater height, she could have lost him forever.

  Not that she had him. He would be returning home as soon as he was able.

  Then what was she going to do?

  He opened one eye. “Thank you for coming, Jeanne-Marie.”

  She smiled, her heart turning over. “I wouldn’t have stayed away for anything.” And she hoped he never knew the full truth of that.

  Just then a man knocked on the half-opened door and entered.

  “Whoa, surprise, surprise. I rushed over here thinking you’d be at death’s door, and here you are entertaining a pretty woman. Maybe I should fall off a cliff,” he said, smiling at both Matt and Jeanne-Marie.

  “Paul, what are you doing here? I thought you left for home already,” Matt said.

  “Couldn’t resist the nightlife here, plus we only did one climb together. I called to see if you wanted to do another together before heading home and learned you were here. I couldn’t head for home until I made sure you didn’t need anything. I see you don’t.” He grinned at Jeanne-Marie.

  “This is Jeanne-Marie, hostess of the inn I’m staying at. Jeanne-Marie, my climbing buddy, Paul Giardanne,” Matt said.

  “Explains why you didn’t bother staying in Marseilles. Enchanté, mademoiselle,” Paul said.

  “It’s Madame Rousseau.” Jeanne-Marie rose and nodded to Matt. “I’ll call later for an update. In the meantime, rest and get better. Nice to meet you, monsieur.”

  “Wait. Paul won’t stay long.” Matt glared at his friend.

  “Not at all. Just wanted to make sure you were alive and kicking. Which I see you are. I’ll be in town a couple more days. Do you need anything?”

  “No. I’m good. Or will be once my arm heals.”

  “And the assorted scrapes and bruises. Man, did you slide down the face?”

  “Feels like it.”

  Jeanne-Marie didn’t know whether to stay or go. He’d asked her to stay, but if his friend visited for long, she wouldn’t be needed.

  “Okay, then. I’ll check back tomorrow. I’ll come when you don’t already have company. Take care, man. Madame.” He bid them both goodbye.

  “I could have left and let him visit with you,” Jeanne-Marie said, standing by the bed.

  Matt reached out to take her hand in his left one. “I’d rather visit with you. What time are you picking up Alexandre?”

  “Later. After I leave here.”

  “How did you fare without him around?”

  “I missed him, of course. But he was only gone overnight and last night I had plenty going on.” Had it only been last night they’d gone swimming in the sea, kissed in the shallows?

  She sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, conscious of his hand holding hers, his thumb tracing patterns against her skin. Her heart skipped a beat. She watched him as he closed his eyes again, wishing she could soothe his headache, erase all his pain. She’d be devastated if anything happened to him. She couldn’t go through something like that again.

  “So tell me what exactly happened,” she said.

  Listening to him talk about the slippery rock and how close he had been to the bottom did nothing to alleviate her fear. When he talked about how short a time he estimated he lay at the bottom until other climbers found him, she gave up a prayer of thanks. He could have been lying in the rain for hours if they hadn’t arrived.

  Learning of Matt’s accident had scared her to death. Maybe it was best for him to return home. At least she could always think of him alive and well and not be hurt herself when he hurt, not be worried about him if he was late coming home.

  Jeanne-Marie did not tell the Rousseaus about Matt’s fall and her visit to St. Mary’s. They welcomed her as they always did, and Alexandre was full of talk about his playing in the room that had once been his dad’s and the ice cream cone Grand-père had bought him when they went out. He could talk nonstop, she knew. But better to fill the time with that than have them question her about Matt. She would always consider them dear relatives, Alexandre’s grandparents. But she also realized she was a separate person, who would have to live her life on her own terms, not those of her in-laws.

  They wouldn’t understand her falling in love with someone else. Not yet. Maybe never. So she kept that secret to herself.

  Soon after stopping, Jeanne-Marie and her son were on their way back to the inn. It was during the car ride that she told him Matt had been injured and would be coming to stay with them a short time until he felt better.

  How long did a concussion take to heal?

  Alexandre was concerned about the fall and peppered her with questions. He wanted to go see him, but they were almost home by then.

  “You’ll see him when he comes,” she ended, not able to answer more than half his questions. “He’s going to share your room, so you have to be extra careful to be quiet when he’s sleeping. And don’t leave your toys on the floor where he can trip over them.”

  “I will be the bestest boy ever!” he vowed.

  She laughed. “You already are.”

  Two days later Matt called to say he could be discharged if she was still willing to have him stay. Jeanne-Marie insisted she was. They had spoken on the phone a couple of times each day, but sh
e had not returned to Marseilles. There was too much going on at the inn to take another day away.

  She’d gone back and forth in her mind over the last two days, worried she was going to get involved more than was wise if he stayed. Yet how much more in love could she fall? She’d savor every moment together. She wanted to see him.

  His room had been cleared and was now occupied by an older couple from Nantes. She already saw him in her mind every time she walked into the kitchen. Staying with them for a while—how long, days? Weeks?—would leave lasting memories of every space in the inn. Still, he’d be there a little longer. Right now, that’s all that mattered.

  Matt made the trip to the inn that afternoon without much discomfort. He wished he could have made it in a car, but the ambulance was comfortable and he knew the driver and paramedic would be able to convey him to the inn with minimum effort. His arm ached and his headache was relentless, pounding in time with his heart. He had trouble eating with his right arm in the cast. Closing one eye helped in the vision department, but with both closed he only felt a slight dizziness. He needed his head to heal first! This was driving him crazy.

  But none of it mattered. He was going to Jeanne-Marie’s until he was better. At least until the concussion healed. Which one doctor estimated might be as long as a couple of weeks. Two more weeks to hear her laugh, see her brown eyes look into his. And in the evenings after Alexandre went to bed, who knew what might happen?

  The men got him out of the ambulance and into the wheelchair he’d be using until his balance stabilized. He wore a new set of clothes Paul had brought for him. A bag held his climbing gear. The gravel parking lot was bumpy, but once on the stone pathway the ride smoothed out. He wasn’t complaining; at least he was away from the hospital. And almost home.

  He smiled wryly. This wasn’t his home. But it felt the closest to anything home should feel like in a long time.

  Entering the lobby, Matt looked around and felt a pang of disappointment. Rene was behind the desk. He looked up, startled to see the paramedics pushing the wheelchair.

  “Wait there,” the young man said and swiftly ran around the counter and back to the door to the Rousseaus’ apartment.

  In only seconds Jeanne-Marie hurried out, followed by Alexandre.

  “You’re here,” she said, wiping her hands on the apron around her waist. “I didn’t expect you this early.” She smiled and went to touch his shoulder. Matt wished she’d kiss him, but with everyone standing around staring at them, she probably didn’t feel it was appropriate.

  He was surprised at the disappointment.

  Alexandre came to his other side, looking at his chair and then at him. “You have black eyes,” he said. “Do they hurt?”

  “Not as much as my arm,” Matt said, feeling a bit better for seeing the little boy.

  Alexandre studied the cast, then smiled. “I can draw a happy face on it if you like.”

  Matt’s arm ached and his head pounded so badly he could hardly stand it. Still, he appreciated the boy’s thought. “Sure, maybe later, okay?”

  The paramedics checked to make sure he had all his belongings, then left.

  “Are my clothes up in my room?” He looked at Jeanne-Marie.

  She shook her head. “I’ve already brought them down to Alexandre’s room. Maybe you should rest before dinner. I can come get you when it’s time to eat. Or would you rather go to bed? I bet the trip was tiring.”

  The spark of interest at the thought of her helping him dress for bed proved he was not as badly injured as he thought. His mind immediately envisioned the two of them alone by the bed. Only, the clothes didn’t get put on, but came off.

  He groaned.

  “Oh, no, what hurts?” she asked, leaning close to study his face.

  He opened one eye and looked at her. Could he pull her into his lap and give her a kiss?

  The pain meds were messing with his mind.

  “A rest would be good. I didn’t realize how bumpy that highway was until I felt every jarring inch of it.”

  Alexandre patted his arm. “I’m sorry you got hurt,” he said.

  Jeanne-Marie looked him over with a critical eye. “You look exhausted behind these colorful bruises dotting your face.”

  “They’re purple,” Alexandre offered helpfully.

  Matt laughed, wincing when the pain in his head upped a notch.

  “Your bed’s ready now. Lie down for a while. Then we’ll see if you want to get up for supper or have it there. I was planning soup again.”

  “Sounds good to me. I don’t have much of an appetite, probably due to the medication. And eating isn’t the easiest thing.”

  “Me and Matt can sleep together in my room,” the little boy said.

  “I think maybe for the first couple of nights you’d better sleep in with me.”

  “But I want to sleep with Matt,” he protested. “There’re two beds. And I’ll go right to sleep at bedtime. He wants me to sleep in with him, don’t you, Matt?”

  “Let him sleep in there, Jeanne-Marie,” Matt said, unable to resist those pleading little-boy eyes. He wondered if he objected, would Jeanne-Marie consider letting him sleep in with her? Sounded like a better plan all around.

  “We’ll see how it goes,” Jeanne-Marie said.

  “Did you have fun at your grandparents’?” Matt asked Alexandre. Now that the anticipation had worn off, he was tired. He was pushing things, but he wanted to be safely ensconced in bed before letting down his guard. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to get up again today.

  “Yes. I got to have ice cream and go for a ride with my grand-père. And swinged on the swing in the backyard. I played with my cars and we watched my dad on TV ’cause it was raining.”

  “Your father was on TV?”

  Alexandre nodded. “It’s DVDs. He smiled a lot. I like him.”

  “Of course you do,” Matt said, wondering how it would be to have only a DVD of his dad. His father had died only a few years ago. Matt was thirty-two and he still felt he’d had his dad for too short a time. How awful would it have been to lose him before he could even remember him?

  “Do you have DVDs of your dad?” Alexandre asked, leaning against his leg.

  Matt nodded. “A few, with my wife and son.”

  “Does your arm hurt? And your face? Your eyes are dirty, they’re all black.”

  “Everything hurts.”

  “Maybe Mama should kiss and make it better. She does that if I get hurt,” Alexandre said very solemnly.

  Matt smiled in spite of himself. He looked at her. He wouldn’t mind Jeanne-Marie kissing him until he was better. It would take a lot of kisses for him to feel better.

  “Let’s go. We’ll talk kisses later,” she said, taking hold of the handles on the wheelchair.

  “Deal.” Matt closed his eyes as she told Rene she’d be in the back if he needed anything, and then pushed the chair.

  “Do you need help getting into bed?” she asked a moment later when she stopped in the middle of the two twin beds in Alexandre’s bedroom.

  Matt opened one eye and surveyed the distance. Lying down would be a relief.

  He made an effort and was prone on the comfortable mattress in only seconds, feeling the tension fade as fatigue won.

  “I’ll probably sleep through the night.”

  “Except when I need to waken you to make sure you’re not going into a coma. I’ll check back around six to see if you want to eat anything.”

  “Fine.” With his eyes closed, he didn’t see her leave, but could feel how empty the room was the next minute. Slowly he gave in to sleep.

  “Wake up, Matt. I’m here to check on you,” Jeanne-Marie said, coming in and dimming the light sometime later.

  She touched his forehead, her hand cool and soft. Slowly she trailed it off, then pushed back his hair and reached down to press her cheek against it. “No fever that I can tell,” she said. “Are you awake?”

  Matt breathed in the scent of her. Too b
ad he was injured; he could get to enjoy attention like this. When she didn’t say anything for a moment, he opened his eyes. She looked worried. He hadn’t meant for that.

  “I’m awake. I know who the president is,” he said.

  She laughed softly, brushing his hair back.

  “That feels good,” he said, eyes closed.

  “I’m wondering if I can really let Alexandre sleep in here with you. You’d do better with complete rest.”

  “Let’s see how things go. He’d be disappointed,” Matt said. He’d give a lot to keep the boy from ever being disappointed.

  “Do you want to eat something? I can bring it here.”

  “If it’s soup, put it in a mug. I can drink it.” He lifted the arm with a cast. “It’s hard to eat left-handed.”

  Jeanne-Marie went to get his dinner, wondering if she’d lost her mind offering to let Matthieu Sommer convalesce at her home. She wanted to be more than friends. She wanted him to kiss her again. Maybe even talk about the possibility of seeing each other again. She wanted him to grow to care for her. Maybe not as much as his wife, but something more than friendship.

  Was she wishing for the moon?

  Alexandre was thrilled to have him stay, but she was playing with fire. Every time she saw Matt—injured as he was, the bruises on his face, the scrapes on his arms—she wanted to hold him close, share her vitality to aid in healing. She wished she could hold him, kiss him, let him know she ached with the fact he was so injured.

  He ate quickly and then lay back down.

  “I’ll wash up and be back with Alexandre in an hour or two. Sleep if you can,” she said.

  Once the kitchen was clean, she quickly bathed Alexandre and then helped him into his pajamas. “Quiet when we go to your room,” she said. “Matt might be asleep.”

  He was. She whispered to Alexandre as she tucked him in bed.

  “Mama, you should kiss Matt to make him all better,” Alexandre whispered back.

  Jeanne-Marie tousled her son’s hair. “I think time will do that,” she replied.

  “Please, Mama.”

  “Okay, now go to sleep.”