“Us?” asked Sylvie.
“Just you and me. Lisa is obviously grounded now and Robert needs to stay here and man the office. Can you be ready to leave at 5 a.m.? With your full veterinary kit?”
“Of course. Do I need anything special in my kit?”
“You should liaise with Marcel Petit. You will need tranquillizer darts and antidotes to all the known poisons. I will spend the afternoon checking out the vehicle for the start of the cold season and making sure we have all the equipment we need, both for ourselves and for the wolves.”
“Shall I go now, Jean-Luc?”
“Good idea. Get it out of the way and then come back here for a briefing on the location of the wolf packs in the Park.”
Robert intervened, “What time do you have to collect Lisa from the hospital, Sylvie?”
“Not till six this evening. I’ll take a taxi to the hospital to fetch her when we finish here.”
Marcel was pleased to see Sylvie. He liked having the chance to talk to a fellow professional he said, and Sylvie was always welcome on her own account. Did she know how attractive she was, he asked her. Sylvie told him to stop flirting and concentrate on the matter in hand.
“D’accord, Docteur Sylvie,” he said, with a wry smile, “but remember, I am always happy to take you out. I was sorry to hear about Kaya. Jean-Luc brought me the collar to see if there was any blood trace but it was clean.”
“Is he always so severely affected when one of the wolves is killed? He wouldn’t speak to us. Just shut himself off and stalked away on his own.”
“They are like children to him, I think. Each one is special but that doesn’t mean that he interferes with their lives. He doesn’t. He only counts them, monitors them and collates data from the DNA samples and, of course, tries to safeguard them from human killers.”
“But he did rescue P’tit-Loup, didn’t he? Wasn’t that intervention?”
“If a wolf is in distress because of human action, he feels he is justified in intervening and P’tit-Loup was caught in a man-made trap. If he found one wolf fighting another or came across a wolf killing a deer, he wouldn’t intervene because that would be Nature.”
“It’s always difficult for conservationists and naturalists to know where and when to draw the line on intervention. Thanks for explaining the philosophy of this particular project; I haven’t had a chance to talk to Jean-Luc in any depth yet.”
“Now, back to business. Have you had any practical experience with poisons and antidotes before, Sylvie?”
“Yes, in Yellowstone. They have many of the same problems you have with humans killing wolves and I have seen just about everything mankind can think up.”
Marcel busied himself collecting together the required supplies of drugs and equipment and handed them over to Sylvie to take back to the office and add to her veterinary chest for Jean-Luc to load into the Range Rover.
Jean-Luc reminded her about her passport, warm winter clothes and the 5 a.m. pick-up the next morning. Robert called for a taxi and Sylvie left to collect Lisa from the hospital.
Lisa was as bubbly as ever when Sylvie called for her. She was already waiting at the front door in a wheelchair with her plastered leg stuck out in front and crutches hooked on the side.
“So? Am I in the doghouse with Monsieur du Lamond, the great conservationist, then Sylvie?” she asked.
“Lisa, I love you dearly, you know that, but your escapade has made my position here difficult. Jean-Luc has tarred us both with same brush. He thinks we are irresponsible.”
Lisa peered up at her, “That’s not fair! How can he think that after the professionalism you showed in the valley, Sylvie? Moreover, you are a veterinarian, not an MD, and yet you dealt with the crisis in a calm and efficient manner? I was the stupid one, not you.”
The hospital porter wheeled Lisa to the taxi. He and the taxi driver maneuvered her into the back while Sylvie stowed away her crutches on the floor.
Sylvie settled down beside Lisa and the taxi drove off. “I heard them both talking about us this morning in the office. They didn’t know I was outside in the hall. Jean-Luc was saying that he wanted us sacked from the project–”
Lisa turned a look of astonishment towards Sylvie. “What? Sacked? Why?”
“He said we were a liability and he could do without us.”
“Robert didn’t agree, surely?” asked Lisa. “I get really positive vibes from him. I think he fancies me and he likes you.”
“No, Robert didn’t agree. He told Jean-Luc he was being ridiculous and should change his tune. I’m going on a field trip with Jean-Luc tomorrow morning and we’ll just have to see what happens. But, please Lisa, don’t do anything else to annoy him. This is a dream placement for me; I want to do this work with the wolves –”
“And you and Jean-Luc? What’s going on there? Don’t think I haven’t noticed you tense up when you are around him.”
“Nothing’s going on. How could it? He not only shows no respect for me but he doesn’t even like me.”
“But do you like him?”
“I haven’t had a chance to find out yet. I find the fact that I am attracted to him unsettling because he seems to be so hostile. Maybe we just haven’t seen him in the best light. He’s been preoccupied with the fate of Kaya and I suppose two newbies are a nuisance in those circumstances.”
“No, and I didn’t help much, did I?”
“That’s an understatement,” answered Sylvie.
The two girls looked at each other, shrugged, and fell silent until they reached their hotel.
Madame Bonjean came running out when she heard the taxi draw up. She fussed about Lisa, lecturing them for the second time about what foolish young women they were to have risked a trip into the Park at that time of the year and all for the sake of some godforsaken wolves.
Sylvie let the old biddy ramble on because she needed a favor from her; she agreed that they had been silly girls and should have heeded the advice of their would-be mentor. She wanted Madame Bonjean to change their room to one on the ground floor.
She didn’t have to ask for it was Madame Bonjean herself who said that she had exchanged their upstairs room for one on the ground floor to save Lisa from having to negotiate the stairs. The two of them helped Lisa into the bedroom and sat her down in an armchair. All their belongings were stacked in their new room. Sylvie assumed the cleaner had carried their bags downstairs for them, but while they were unpacking and putting everything away, Madame Bonjean mentioned that one of the young men had called round a short while ago.
“Robert?” Sylvie asked. “The one with short blond hair?”
“No, my child, the other one, the boss man. You know, the good looking one.”
Sylvie was puzzled. “Jean-Luc?”
Madame Bonjean nodded.
“What did he want?” asked Lisa.
“He asked me if I had a room free on the ground floor; it would be easier for Lisa, he said. And when I said I had this one, he packed up your belongings and carried everything down here for you. Il est très gentil, he’s a nice young man, that one.”
Sylvie and Lisa exchanged a glance of surprise but didn’t comment in front of Madame Bonjean. Sylvie carried on with the unpacking. Maybe Jean-Luc wasn’t so heartless after all. She’d rather have his respect than his consideration, but she would settle for consideration if it meant they could establish a working relationship after all.
Lisa wasn’t strong enough to make the effort to hobble round to Le Chien Ivrogne and so Sylvie borrowed a dish from Madame Bonjean and went round there to see if she could ask Henri for a take-away for her. Robert and Jean-Luc were sitting at the bar chatting when she walked in but they didn’t notice her until she put the dish down on the bar counter beside them.
They both looked round. “Salut, Sylvie. How is Lisa?” they asked.
“She’s fine; just a little worn down. I’m going to see if I can buy something to take back for her to eat.”
J
ean-Luc called Henri over, explained the problem and asked him to give Sylvie whatever she needed. While the barman was off in the kitchen, Sylvie moved round to stand between the two men.
She smiled at Jean-Luc and laid her hand gently on his arm, “That was kind of you, and it was thoughtful of you to arrange a ground floor room for us.”
To her surprise, he didn’t look away and glower; he covered her hand with his own and smiled back. “You have a lot to deal with at the moment, Sylvie. Anything we can do to help, we will do. Just let us know.”
“Yes,” Robert broke in. “A strange country, a new job and your friend’s accident. It must all be a bit too much.”
Sylvie withdrew her hand gently from under Jean-Luc’s, “Thank you, guys. Now can a girl get a drink around here?”
“Mais oui, what would you like?” asked Jean-Luc. “Will you join us in a pastis while Lisa’s supper is prepared?”
Sylvie nodded and Robert went round behind the bar to pour her one. When he handed it to her he asked, “If Lisa is all right for the night, why don’t you come back here and have something to eat with us?”
Sylvie glanced at Jean-Luc to see if she could gauge his reaction to Robert’s suggestion. It seemed neutral and so she decided to take a risk and spend the evening with them without Lisa’s backup.
“I’d like that.”
“Then that’s settled. Now drink up. Henri will be back in a minute with Lisa’s supper.”
“Santé,” the three of them clicked glasses and they spent the next few minutes chatting in a friendly manner until Henri came back with Lisa’s plate.
9 : Getting to know each other
When Sylvie returned to the bar after settling Lisa for the night, she was alarmed to find Jean-Luc sitting on his own at the corner table. Her dismay must have shown on her face for as he stood to pull out a chair for her, he said, “I know you didn’t bargain on spending the evening alone with me but something came up and Robert had to go and help his mother. If you’d rather I left you alone, I will quite understand. I haven’t been as welcoming as I could have been.”
For a moment, Sylvie was tempted to accept his offer to leave; she wanted to say that she would rather be alone. She didn’t feel she could cope with being put down again but while she hesitated, she saw how tensely Jean-Luc was awaiting her reply. His jaw was rigid and his eyes soft. She remembered how mellow he had been earlier on that evening. Perhaps this was the chance for them to forge a truce. At the very least, it was the opportunity for them to get to know each other better. Six months of trying to earn respect from someone who wasn’t prepared to give it was daunting. It was worth a try.
She smiled her thanks and took the proffered chair, sitting back with her right leg crossed over her left. Jean-Luc’s body lost its stiffness as he dropped back down into his seat, his pose now relaxed as he, too, crossed one leg over the other, unconsciously mirroring her action. He signaled for Pierre and ordered a couple of pastis.
They waited in an awkward silence until Pierre returned with the aperitifs and the day’s menu. Sylvie looked up at Jean-Luc once or twice but he was gazing into the middle distance. When Pierre brought the drinks, they were forced by social habit to look up at each other as they said, “Santé”. They gave each other a slight smile, both conscious of the uncomfortable tension between them.
“Here’s to a profitable working relationship,” said Sylvie, determined to make the best of things.
“You really want to do this job?” asked Jean-Luc. “This is not just a jolly trip to France?”
Sylvie laughed. “Is that what you think? You couldn’t be more wrong. Yes, I had to get away from home for a bit, but I didn’t have to come here. I jumped at the chance to work with your wolves.”
“You don’t mind that we will have to go up into the mountains in the dead of winter, possibly even rough it and camp up there?”
“Of course not, I’m used to it and it’s in my genes; my father was an authority on wolves.”
“At Yellowstone?” asked Jean-Luc.
“No, my father was French Canadian. He was an authority on the Canadian timber wolf.”
“Pro-wolf or anti-wolf?”
“Pro-wolf, of course, like me … and you,” Sylvie added.
“He is no longer living?”
“No, he died when I was a child, but not before teaching me to speak French.”
Jean-Luc’s eyes crinkled up as he laughed. “You call that French? We had a Québecois TV program on here once - a soap. We, French, could not understand a word they were saying; they had to add French subtitles.”
Sylvie turned her face aside. Couldn’t she do anything right in Jean-Luc’s eyes? Now he was criticizing her French accent, for heaven’s sake. It had been a difficult two days; everything was strange and she was far away from home; she missed her mother and Lobo. She felt herself becoming tearful and that would never do. She squared her shoulders and decided to fight fire with fire.
“Jean-Luc, do you know just how arrogant you sound at times?” she asked with a faint smile to dilute the sting of her question.
He leant back in his chair, retreating in defense to a safer distance, and looked at her askance. “I do? You think I am arrogant? Vraiment?”
“Yes, I do, and Lisa does, too,” Sylvie answered. “You’re possibly even intolérable, insufferable.”
“Insufferable? No, that is going too far, Sylvie. I plead guilty to being arrogant at times, although not intentionally, mais jamais intolérable. Never.”
He shifted forward in his chair, putting his powerful forearms on the table. His voice took on a tone of sincere enquiry, as he searched her expression, “Truly?”
Sylvie nodded.
“It is because I am better with wolves. People are not my thing, Sylvie. It is not personal, you know. My fiancée left me and ran off to England because she said I could only relate to wolves.” He laughed in self-deprecation.
“Well, perhaps insufferable is too strong a word but you are miserly with your approval, Jean-Luc. You don’t know how to stroke people.”
“You think you will find it difficult for us to work together, is that it?”
“I think we need to establish some mutual respect, Jean-Luc.”
“Ah, I need a good woman to rub off my raw edges … civilize me.”
“I hate to tell you this, but you’re not going to find one unless you change your attitude to people first.”
Jean-Luc acted affronted and jerked back in his seat. He considered what she had said for a moment and then he beamed at her. “Ah Sylvie, you have the makings of an alpha female, you know. She takes shit from no one. She is the real leader of the pack.”
“Don’t you forget it, Jean-Luc,” Sylvie answered as Henri put the soup down in front of them.
The soup was delicious; a velouté of Jerusalem artichoke with tiny garlicky croutons, and savoring it gave them a chance to be in accord as they both wiped their bread around their bowls to capture the last drops.
“I’m really going to enjoy French cooking while I am here. We have a tradition of French cuisine back home in Mississippi but it’s slightly different; being Cajun it’s spicier. It’s interesting for me to be here at the origin.”
“So, why did you have to get away from home?”
“Something very similar to what happened to you. My fiancé walked out on me … in the middle of our wedding,” Sylvie replied, her voice sinking as she attempted but failed to make light of the experience. “It’s such a cliché: the bride-to-be-deserted-at-the-altar.”
Jean-Luc tossed his bread into his bowl and reached out to place his hand on her arm. Looking deep into her eyes, he reassured her, “Sylvie, you are an attractive, intelligent young woman and you will make someone a beautiful bride some day, j’en suis sûr.”
Sylvie dropped her eyes and touched his hand with hers, “Merci. So, now we have something in common on a personal level. Do you think we could work on the professional respect angle, Jean-L
uc?”
“Have you finished?” Henri interrupted, startling them both into disengaging their hands to allow him to clear the plates.
He returned within a couple of minutes with two steaming bowls of mussels.
“I can’t eat all this,” said Sylvie, inhaling the marvelous aroma of white wine, garlic and parsley. She picked up her fork to prize the first fat mussel out of its shell.
“Non, non, Sylvie, comme ça,” said Jean-Luc, breaking off a shell and using it as a scoop to empty one mussel after another.
The pile of empty shells on the tray between them grew higher as they settled into the enjoyment of their meal and the feeling between them became more comfortable. Before long, they found themselves chatting about their lives, education and career aspirations.
Sylvie threw a last shell onto the pile. “That’s me done; I can’t eat another thing.”
Jean-Luc leaned towards her and wiped the corner of her mouth with his finger. Sylvie was startled at the intimacy of the gesture and pulled away.
“Woah! It’s just a little piece of parsley. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“I wasn’t expecting it,” said Sylvie trying to make little of the searing jolt that had passed through her at his touch.
Jean-Luc examined his finger in mock astonishment and waggled it. “You jumped as if I had given you an electric shock. Never had that power before.”
“Cheese or dessert?” asked Henri, tipping the shells into a bucket and stacking their bowls onto his tray.
“Nothing for me, just coffee”, Sylvie replied.
“Same for me,” added Jean-Luc, “and a cognac please.”
“Now, Jean-Luc, what about this professional respect?” Sylvie began only to be interrupted by a kafuffle in the far corner of the room where a group of people were pushing back their chairs and making their way to the small stage at the end of the bar where a drum kit stood.
Jean-Luc had turned round to see what was going on. “Oh, you’re in luck, Sylvie. It’s Un, deux, trois, a local band. They’re good. You’re going to enjoy this. They play a blend of funky rock with reggae and a good dose of blues, à la française.”
Waking the Wolf (Coup de Foudre) Page 7
