I Promise You This (Love in Provence Book 3)

by Patricia Sands

  “So how long do you think you’ll stay here, Kat?”

  “Well, Molly seems to be improving daily. If the plan is to discharge her to rehab, Andrea said she’ll come and stay at the house for as long as necessary. She can see Molly each day and make sure everything is being handled properly. Lucy and her cousin Li Mai will also be at the house, and they’ve offered to visit with Molly too and give Andrea a break.”

  Nick nodded. “Tony told me he’ll check on her every day too.” He gave Katherine a strange look. “Do you think Molly and the priest have more than a pastoral relationship?” Without waiting for a response from her, he added, “I definitely do.”

  “Well, now that you say it out loud, I have to confess—pardon the pun—we were just talking about that very topic on our way back to the city.”

  They all looked at one another and nodded, eyebrows raised.

  “Who are we to judge?” Nick remarked. Nothing more was said as the waiter arrived to clear dishes and offer coffee and dessert.

  Kat changed the subject. “If they do discharge her to rehab, and Molly is well looked after, I may be going home with Philippe.” She realized she kind of liked the sound of that.

  “It seems there’s no urgency to be here now, and I’ve managed to get other matters organized with the house. I will come back in a couple of weeks when Molly is ready to go home. I can probably be of more help then.”

  Though Nick had been listening intently, he now seemed lost in thought for a moment before he spoke. “Well, it sounds like you’ve got that case of cold feet under control, Kat! I’m glad to hear it!”

  Her face flushing, Kat nodded. “I’m sorry I subjected you to my anxieties! I’m coming to terms with my feelings, and Philippe has been incredibly understanding.”

  Nick gazed at them both. “Somehow I believe you two will make it all work. Now, about our Molly Dolly—I’ve got an idea simmering. What do you think of this?”

  Katherine and Philippe listened, astounded at what he was proposing.

  As they were parting, he said, “I’ll pop in to say good-bye to Molly tomorrow and we’ll see what Dr. Primeau has to say about our little plan.”

  “Nick, I think it just might work. You met with him before and you’ve been involved in Molly’s care, so he knows you’re part of the family, as it were.”

  Nick gave both Kat and Philippe a grateful look. “Thanks. It makes me feel good to know that I’m helping. You certainly know I care about her. About all of you.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  A phone call to Simone to share their good news was the first item on the list before they left for the hospital the next morning.

  “It’s three-thirty in the afternoon in Antibes, so she might be in the kitchen having a cup of tea,” Kat confirmed, checking her watch. “Or covered in paint in her studio. You just never know.” She chuckled affectionately as she thought about Simone’s lust for life.

  They put the call on speaker phone and Simone picked up immediately.

  Not one for long conversations, she was delighted to hear from them and thrilled to learn of the ring Katherine now wore. “Magnifique, mes chérs! I’ve been waiting for this kind of good news from you!”

  Simone inquired about their “amie” and was pleased to hear things were going well.

  “I miss your company, chérie,” she said to Kat. “But you are doing one of life’s most important tasks: being the best friend possible.”

  She teased Philippe about being the best friend possible too, since he had gone to Katherine’s side in spite of the frigid temperatures.

  They laughed as he described the layers of clothing required before setting one foot outside. “No exaggeration!”

  “You forget I am from the north, Philippe. T’sais? I know cold too! That’s why we all choose to be on the Côte d’Azur! Oui?”

  “D’accord,” said Simone. “I’m going to prepare a light dinner and get back to my painting. I have something new in the works that I’m very excited about! Let me know when you return. Bisous to you both.”

  Kat and Philippe barely had time to say good-bye before the line went dead. They laughed as they hung up. “No small talk with Simone!”

  When they arrived at Molly’s room, Dr. Primeau was making his rounds. He explained how satisfied the medical team was with Molly’s progress. The consensus was that she could be transferred to a rehabilitation center by the end of the week. Her leg injury was healing well, but her shoulder and collarbone issues were more complicated and would require extensive physiotherapy.

  “Now that the swelling in your brain has subsided and your functions—for the most part—are back to normal, we would like to operate to reposition bone fragments in your collarbone.”

  Molly looked taken aback; the doctor patted her hand. “Don’t worry. The surgery is standard and does not take long, but it is essential for an effective recovery.”

  Picking up her whiteboard, she wrote, “When?”

  “We have a cancellation in two days, as a matter of fact. You could be out of here and at the rehab center sometime next week. What do you think?”

  Katherine asked about Molly’s shoulder and how it would be affected by the operation.

  “She has a type-three shoulder separation that does not appear to require surgery but will probably need at least twelve weeks of physiotherapy.”

  “So Molly is not going back to work for a while.”

  “I would say she is out for this school year . . .” He paused. “Of course, that is dependent on her speech returning. We are completely stymied by that aspect of her recovery. There is no discernible reason for her condition. In fact, we’re documenting it in detail.”

  Molly hummed The Twilight Zone melody, and everyone laughed.

  “That’s about it,” the doctor concluded as he closed his file folder. “You’re a model patient, Molly. I’m certain you will be back to a hundred percent in a few months.”

  She smiled and nodded. Looking at Kat and waving, she sang, “Bye, bye, bye, bye, byeeee,” going up and down the scale. Her responses were becoming much more varied.

  Dr. Primeau held out his hands and laughed as he shrugged.

  Nick asked if he could make a suggestion about Molly’s ongoing rehabilitation. “How does this sound: if Molly’s collarbone surgery goes well and she’s moved to rehab next week, Andrea will stay in town with her. Am I correct about that?”

  “Correct,” the others chorused.

  “At the same time, Molly will continue with the melodic-intonation therapy.”

  “Yes,” Dr. Primeau agreed.

  Nick paused for a moment as a smile slowly spread across his face. “What if I fly Molly to Nice once everything is going well, and if we can put the same treatment into place there? Then she can continue her rehab with Kat and Philippe.”

  Nick outlined what they’d talked about at dinner the night before. Now they watched Molly and Dr. Primeau closely to gauge their responses. They were pleased to see Molly’s face brighten with surprise and excitement.

  Once Dr. Primeau agreed to approve the health care Nick arranged, the whole idea was a go. “We have connections with hospitals around the world. I will put in a call to my colleagues in Nice and see what I can find out about the best clinic,” the doctor informed them. “Let me know if you need any other information.”

  Molly grabbed Katherine’s hand and squeezed it tightly. Her eyes were ablaze.

  In addition to her whiteboard, which was handy for quick comments, Molly had requested a thick writing pad for more detailed conversations. Now she made a list of questions about her job, her apartment, her inability to speak. There was certainly nothing lacking in her desire to communicate.

  Katherine reassured Molly that they would find answers to all of her questions. “It will all work out.”

  Dr. Primeau addressed the speech problem again. “Molly, we are all mystified. The fact that you’re beginning to articulate words with the music therapy is encour
aging. I wish I could tell you more. Every once in a while, we run into the most unusual conditions and simply have to keep investigating for answers. We will continue to search. Trust me.”

  Molly’s feistiness was returning. She wrote, “I need to get out of this bed and get on with my life! I appreciate everything everyone is doing but I’m getting ANTSY!”

  Dr. Primeau laughed. “That’s the best sign yet that you’re on the road to recovery.”

  Nick continued. “I’ll get my people investigating the rehabilitation support we can arrange in Nice or Antibes and report back to you, Dr. Primeau. Sound like a plan?”

  Everyone nodded, and Katherine threw her arms around Nick. “This is incredibly generous, Nick. Very exciting!”

  “I told you, I do it for my pleasure. I’m really a very selfish guy.”

  Philippe shook his hand and then they did the man hug kind of thing. “Merci mille fois, Nick. After you mentioned this to us last evening, I e-mailed Didier to check the doorways in our apartment and our ancient elevator to make certain Molly’s wheelchair would fit. He did it this morning. Pas de problème.”

  Dr. Primeau stood up and shook hands all around. “This is definitely a first for me . . . but a very good first. Nick, let me know what you discover and we will see how we can make this work.”

  He picked up his files. “Molly, this afternoon the nurse will confirm that surgery will be scheduled for the day after tomorrow. You won’t be able to have anything to eat or drink after eight p.m. the night before. I’ll see you in the operating room. And don’t worry—this is standard stuff. You will be in and out in no time.”

  Nick also said his farewells. “The world’s a small place these days, and we can settle these arrangements no matter where we are. I’ll be in touch.”

  Nick sat beside Molly and sang up the scale, “I’ll see you in my dreams.” Molly sang the words back.

  Her face radiated gratitude and love as she handed him a note. He kissed her cheeks and gave her a gentle hug. After reading the first line of her note to him, Nick blinked rapidly and folded it into his pocket. “Thanks, Molly Dolly, I’ll read this where no one can see me sniffle. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Two days later, Molly’s collarbone surgery was at ten o’clock. Three hours later, she opened her eyes and saw Kat sitting beside her in the recovery room.

  “Is it over?” Molly whispered.

  “All done,” Kat said, patting Molly’s hand. “Dr. Primeau said it went like clockwork and he will see you later toda-a-a-y.” Her jaw dropped. She stood up abruptly, almost knocking her chair over in shock, and looked at Molly in astonishment.

  “You just spoke!”

  Molly smiled dreamily and drifted back into a deep postsurgery sleep.

  Katherine texted Philippe, her hands shaking as she told him the news. He’d sat with Kat until Molly was out of surgery and then had left, city map in hand, to do some investigating at the city’s food markets.

  Trying to remain calm, Katherine asked the recovery room nurse to page Dr. Primeau. Then she promptly texted the news to Andrea and Nick.

  Checking a schedule on her desk, the nurse informed her that the doctor was in the operating room for the remainder of the day. She would leave a message for him.

  At 2:30 p.m., Molly was in her room, still sound asleep. Katherine asked the nurse on duty to tell Molly that she and Philippe would be back with dinner. Before her surgery, Molly had written her order for Chinese food for dinner at 6:00 p.m. and even specified a restaurant. Her appetite was back in full force. She also wrote that Father DeCarlo would be joining them.

  Katherine left to meet Philippe for their appointment at 3:00 p.m. at the French consulate to go over all the paperwork required for Katherine to live in France. The previous day they had gathered originals and photocopies of her birth certificate, passport, and divorce papers, along with banking information, in case that was required. Everything had been translated into French, and the birth certificate had the apostille seal document attached.

  There were two forms the consulate had to supply to them: a certificat de coutume, or a customs certificate stating that one’s home country’s marriage customs were similar to those of France—for example, one could not have seven wives), and a certificat de capacité matrimoniale, stating that one was indeed single.

  In the papers Philippe had brought with him from France was a brochure titled “Guide des futurs époux.” “You know you have to marry me if we follow this guide because it calls you my spouse,” he teased her.

  They had both laughed—Kat a bit nervously—when he added, as he took her in his arms, “Voilà! I said the M word out loud.”

  “Yes, you certainly did. I heard it too.”

  “Well, what do you say, Madame Scaredy-Kat? Molly wrote me a note and said that’s what I should call you, by the way. Tony explained the word to me. Do I hear a oui?”

  Katherine had not been entirely surprised at her hesitation. Her insecurities of the past couple of weeks were lingering, even though Philippe’s understanding of them had eased her anxiety. She knew there was no question about her feelings for Philippe. Those were crystal clear.

  Am I worried that if we are married, we won’t behave the same way? Am I worried that once we are married, there is something to end?

  Sensing something was not quite right, Philippe had said, “Ne t’inquiète pas, mon amour. Don’t worry. No pressure.” He gave her such an irresistible smile she couldn’t help but smile back.

  “What’s wrong with me? I’m not worried. I just feel afraid to say yes.”

  “Then don’t say yes. Say oui! Maybe you will feel better about le mariage en français. Oui?”

  Katherine had squeezed her eyes shut but couldn’t hide her grin. What is wrong with me? Why can’t I just say yes?

  “We can do whatever you like. A big blowout affair. A church wedding. A quiet appearance at the Hôtel de Ville. Qu’est-ce que tu veux? What’s your pleasure?”

  Katherine face had paled slightly, and she felt a nervous flutter in her stomach. “Do I have to decide now? Let me adjust to the shock that we’re doing this . . . period!”

  “You have six months before some of these documents will have to be resubmitted. Enough time?”

  Katherine fought to quell her jitters. Behave like the mature woman you are!

  She’d closed her eyes for a moment and then said, “Okay. Oui!”

  “Oui what? Oui to waiting six months?”

  Taking a deep breath, Katherine replied, in a voice just above a whisper, “Oui, let’s get married . . . maybe in six months.”

  Philippe then picked her up and whirled her around.

  As he set her back down, Kat had continued, “Let’s plan on sometime between now and the six-month deadline, when the spirit moves us. But for now it will just be our special secret. Bonne idée?”

  “La meilleure idée, Minou! The best! Oui!”

  They’d collapsed in laughter on the sofa and then went out to Merlot, Kat’s favorite neighborhood restaurant. They’d toasted their decision with a glass of champagne and ended the celebratory meal by sharing a crème brûlée.

  Today they were fully prepared with paperwork and looking forward to having all the preamble taken care of.

  Except for the last-minute jitters.

  This morning, Katherine had suddenly become paranoid that somewhere in the jumble of bureaucracy, something would prevent her from returning with Philippe. He had calmly attempted to reassure her, but even he found himself getting anxious today.

  Giddy with happiness and relief, they left the French consulate arm in arm. Their bulging envelope contained all the documentation they needed to build a life together in France. Their dossier de mariage was complete.

  “This calls for another bottle of champagne,” Philippe told Katherine. “Too bad we can’t pop the cork in the hospital with Molly—we have so much to celebrate with her. I can’t believe she started spe
aking again. Just like that!”

  “I know! We’ll set aside a bottle for that express purpose once she’s out of the hospital. Now, that will be a party!”

  As they walked along, they went back over all that had transpired at the consulate. To their great surprise, the process had been quite simple since they had already done their homework. The administrator who had assisted them commented it would make everyone’s job much easier if all potential candidates were as well prepared.

  They were a bit early to pick up dinner for Molly, so they stopped in at a small coffee shop on the way. Philippe entertained Kat with some funny stories of his visit to the St. Lawrence market and how one of the cheese vendors happened to be a cousin to a supplier Philippe had known for years near Toulon. That immediately qualified him as honorary family, and a bottle of rosé was opened.

  “This being Canada and not France,” Philippe told her with a chuckle, “we drank it from coffee mugs behind the counter. Not quite the same.”

  Katherine smiled in amusement. Then she took out her phone. “Look at this e-mail from Nick. Whoever he has looking into Molly’s situation has done a fantastic job. I didn’t realize that the St.-George Clinic in Cimiez was so high-tech.”

  Philippe said, “Oh, yes, it’s been rated the number-one medical facility in France in many polls.”

  “Well, Nick’s helper—for want of a better word—got contact information for every kind of therapy Molly might need. Though who knows, she may not need the speech therapy after all. I can’t wait to get back to the hospital and see what’s happening.”

  “That makes two of us,” Philippe responded. “But no matter what, it will be fun to have Molly stay with us. Of course, I am much happier that we can help her at our place rather than you having to come back to Toronto. It’s, as you say, a wiener, wiener.”

  Katherine patted his hand. “Close. It’s a win-win situation.”

  “You’ll have me speaking perfect English yet, Minou! How long do you think Molly will stay in France? It would be nice if we could keep her with us through the summer.”