Didier slowly led her into the entrance foyer and then turned left, which Kat knew would take them into the main salon. The last time she stood in there, the space had been rubble-strewn with plaster and wood that had fallen from a crumbling wall. Judging by the evidence left behind, a family of critters had also taken up residence. Some windows were broken, and leaves had mixed in with the detritus on the floor.
“Voilà! Ouvrez les yeux! Ta-daaaaa!”
Katherine’s eyes widened as they swept around the transformed space. The walls had been repaired and replastered. The beamed ceiling now made a stunning statement where before it had been barely noticeable. Broken windows were replaced, revealing the panoramic view in its splendor.
“Minou, now we can enjoy the results of all that clearing, cutting, and trimming we did in the garden. We can look right to the sea and across to the vieille ville and the hills beyond, once again!” Philippe drew beside her, slipping his arm around her shoulder.
“Magnifique!” Kat murmured. Then she turned to take in the rest of the room. It definitely did not look finished, but was so improved that it surprised her.
Didier swept his arm around the room. “We wanted le salon to look somewhat like it will when it is finished so you would feel encouraged about the outcome. It’s going to be a very special room. Now, be careful and follow me.”
Philippe took Katherine’s hand as they walked into the spacious hall that led to the other main-floor rooms. Most of the rubbish that had filled the dining room, library, and three bedrooms had also been cleared.
The kitchen—which Philippe and Kat had used occasionally in the autumn when they were clearing the garden—was in the process of being transformed. The wall separating a large storage area had been knocked down to create a spacious food preparation section that would eventually contain an expansive island and counter space.
An adjoining room that had once contained a double-size ice cupboard and cold storage was being turned into a pantry. They had also created a door so groceries could easily be brought directly in from a side parking area.
“This will be a dream kitchen,” Katherine exclaimed, picturing the finished product.
Didier suggested they make an appointment to walk through the space and decide on some smaller but important details, like electrical outlets and lighting.
Most of the debris had been cleared from the remaining rooms, but nothing further had been done elsewhere. “We have been rebuilding the walls in preparation to plaster in the next week or so. First we want to finish replacing the windows and the roof so that the elements won’t be a problem,” Didier explained.
His face flushed with pride as Katherine and Philippe complimented him on the work. Then he blew his whistle and called out some names.
Two handsome young men appeared, also dust-covered. They were tall, with smoldering dark eyes and olive complexions. Didier introduced them as Alfonso and Alesander from a village in the Pays Basque. Greeting her with courtly bows and shaking Philippe’s hand, they appeared to be as charming as they were handsome. The conversation quickly became one Katherine could not follow.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
As the week progressed, Kat’s leg muscles continued to feel the pain of getting back into cycling shape.
She hadn’t really been shocked to discover the aftereffects of not being on her bike for well over a month. She had gone through that once before. After James had left her, she had been so bitter she’d packed her bike away for months. That was after she had viciously dismantled his expensive, treasured bike and left it stuffed in a garbage can in the driveway.
She still couldn’t believe she had behaved so badly. On the other hand, at the time it had given her great satisfaction. It was the only way she could think of to hurt him back.
When she’d met Philippe, there was no question that cycling would be a big part of her life again. And memories of cycling with James had seldom entered her mind. It was another good example of how she had moved on.
Her two yoga classes that week had helped immensely to stretch out those aching muscles. The studio was her kind of place: relaxed but truly dedicated to the union of mind, body, and spirit. Anouk, the petite and personable yogi, welcomed Katherine back. “Beau le boucher mentioned you had to help a friend in the hospital in Canada. I hope she is getting better.”
Katherine was touched by Anouk’s sincere thoughtfulness. She smiled to think that even the butcher was thinking of Molly. She nodded as the words “It takes a village” flitted through her head.
She’d also pushed herself to get back out cycling twice more during the week when it wasn’t raining.
Today she was looking forward to seeing Annette at yoga. They had talked earlier in the week, but Annette had said she wouldn’t be at class until today, as she had been fighting the flu. It seemed the cool, damp air was causing a lot of sniffles around town. Fortunately, Simone was avoiding the germs, and Kat had been lucky so far.
Before walking to yoga, Kat phoned Simone to make lunch plans on Monday, when the market was closed and Philippe could join them. “Honestly, Simone, I can hardly contain my curiosity. Philippe keeps giving me these crazy looks with wild raised eyebrows every time I mention you or our lunch date. No matter how much I plead, he’s not telling me anything until we are with you.”
Simone clucked softly. “Patience is a virtue, chérie. Now, tell me about the progress on the work at the villa and meeting Didier’s work crew.”
With a grin, Kat corrected the wording. “You mean Didier’s équipe—his team!”
“Ha! And why this term?”
“Apparently Didier views his projects as sporting events! Seriously! He even wears a whistle around his neck, like a coach. He may not approach his work like a typical general contractor, but I hear he gets results.”
“Bravo for him. You know how I approve of people who think out of the box!”
“You’ll like him when you meet him—and the rest of them. Didier’s family originated in the Pays Basque, and he always wears a beret to honor that history. However, he seems to have inherited the stature of his Norman ancestors on his mother’s side, and he’s almost as wide as he is tall.”
Simone replied, “I can relate to that. The short part, at least!”
Katherine continued thinking about the conversation with Didier as she walked to yoga. She had missed most of what was said and felt extremely embarrassed asking Philippe to translate when they got home that day.
She would have to get back to her French lessons with Ida. It wasn’t that Kat didn’t have plenty of eager tutors. Often she forced herself to stumble through chats in French with Annette. She still felt shy about speaking the language with Simone, even though Simone had offered to help her many times. Philippe was a great help at encouraging her to speak it with him, but Ida had a more pedagogical approach that was extremely effective.
At the yoga studio, Kat didn’t see Annette. When Kat asked Anouk about her, she learned that her friend had not been attending class regularly the previous weeks. Katherine hoped she wasn’t still sick. She took off her shoes, laid her yoga mat in her usual corner spot, and began some warm-up stretches. Just as the class was preparing to begin, Annette slipped into the back of the room and gave Kat a little wave as she was rolling out her mat.
The room fell under the spell of Anouk’s serene voice leading them through the calming breathing exercises and then from one pose to another for an hour. Today they also chanted the Gayatri mantra and ended with Anouk playing a soft shamanic-like drumming rhythm on a gong. The vibrations soothed and relaxed them into their cool-down stage. Katherine felt these were the best yoga classes she had ever taken.
“Kat! Bienvenue! Welcome back to Antibes!” Annette greeted her with bises before they rolled up their mats, but there was a heaviness in her voice as she plied Katherine with questions. “I’m so glad you are back. Shall we go for our thé au citron and you can tell me about Molly? Was it strange to be in your old
home? Were you happy to come back here?”
“You’re full of questions! The short answer is that I’m more than happy to be back—I’m ecstatic! Molly is getting better and may be coming here soon to finish her recuperation. And you? How are you?”
It did not escape Katherine’s notice that Annette avoided the last question and focused on Molly.
“Formidable! Molly is coming to Antibes? Tell me more!”
“We’re excited at the possibility, but it’s just that at the moment. She’s in a rehabilitation center where they are working on her leg and shoulder. She had surgery on her shoulder before we left, and that went very well. They think she may be ready to leave in a couple of weeks.”
Katherine was glad to see her friend but sensed her upbeat tone seemed forced. She was also concerned about Annette’s pale complexion and what looked like a heavy application of makeup around one of her eyes. Looking more closely, Kat could see that her cheek was swollen and bruised.
This wasn’t the first time alarms had sounded in Kat’s mind about her friend, but she had never directly addressed them. She would try and find the right moment over tea. During some of those hours she’d sat at Molly’s bedside, this had been one of the decisions she’d made. She realized how much she valued the friendships in her life and felt a responsibility to say something.
At the café, it wasn’t warm enough to open the walls of windows, so Annette suggested they settle into a cozy corner table that offered some privacy. There were only a few other customers, and Félix, the oldest waiter, brought their order without asking. The hint of a smile and an almost imperceptible tilt of his head toward Katherine gave a clear welcome-back message. Kat gave him a megawatt smile in return that had him turn abruptly as his face flushed a deep red.
“Santé!” the women toasted with their teacups.
There were snippets of gossip to be shared. Kat chuckled as Annette mentioned that their favorite butcher had been the source of most of the information.
Months ago, at Philippe’s suggestion, Kat had begun buying her meat from Beauregard, known far and wide as Beau le boucher. His family had owned the old boucherie for six generations, and little had changed in the shop’s appearance or in the way he conducted his business. She had been amazed that he wrote nothing down when a customer placed an order. If you were local and a regular customer, you paid no money until the end of the month, when he issued a statement. He knew everyone and everything, and shared the latest gossip—les cancans—at his counter every day, in the friendliest way.
Annette nodded in agreement when Katherine said, “It’s one of the many reasons everyday life here is an experience. There’s nothing routine about it for me.”
Then she gave Annette a serious look. “Quoi de neuf, Annette? What’s new with you?”
Annette’s eyes flickered away from Katherine’s for a moment. Katherine had a sense she was about to say something revealing, but then Annette shook her head and said, “Rien de tout. Nothing at all. Busy at work.”
Kat wrestled with her thoughts, but her mind was made up. “Forgive me if this is too personal, but I’m worried about you. We’ve known each other a while now, and I need to ask you this: Is someone hurting you? Do you and Thibaud have a problem?”
Annette lowered her eyes as her shoulders slumped. Again, she shook her head quickly.
Katherine forged on. “You wouldn’t be the first, you know. You need to tell someone. I’ve seen bruises on you before, Annette, but this mark on your face is bad. Someone punched you. That’s obvious.”
Annette pinched her eyes closed and bit her bottom lip. Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “Oui. C’est vrai. It’s true. There is a problem . . .” She stopped in midsentence and looked at Katherine with an expression so filled with agony that Kat felt herself wince inside.
“But it’s not what you think.”
Katherine felt disappointed, anticipating what she had read about so many battered wives: excuses and rationalizations. But she was mistaken.
“It’s not Thibaud. It’s . . . ma mère . . .” Annette barely voiced the final two words, and Kat missed them completely.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear what you said. Who is it?”
“Maman. My mother,” Annette said, her voice catching, her face consumed by sadness.
Katherine flinched inside as she reached for Annette’s hand. “I’m confused. Your mother has been giving you these injuries?“
“Yes. My dear, sweet mother who would never hurt a fly. My petite mother who looks like an angel—well, she used to—and is barely one hundred fifty centimeters tall.”
Katherine was speechless. Her heart went out to her friend.
Annette continued. “Since Papa passed away last year, Maman has been deteriorating. Now she’s an angry old woman, partially deaf, slipping in and out of senility.”
“I’m so sorry, Annette.”
Annette grimaced. “I never really gave a lot of thought to getting old before, and certainly did not expect this of my mother. We had some elderly women I thought were crazy old ladies in our village when I was growing up, but I never, ever, thought of them as someone’s mother. Now I think of them all the time.”
She tilted her head and looked at Katherine matter-of-factly. “There. I’ve told someone besides Thibaud. He knows, bien sûr, but I’ve had to demand he stay out of the matter.”
She paused for a moment, and Katherine could see she was wrestling with her emotions.
“How did Thibaud react to that?” Kat asked, more to fill the dead space of the conversation than anything.
“It’s created tension between us. It’s very upsetting for him, and he feels we need to report this. So far he has agreed to let me handle it, but he’s having a difficult time with that.”
Katherine shifted in her seat and exhaled loudly as thoughts swirled through her mind. Who would have ever guessed this? What on earth would I do? How heartbreaking!
Annette continued as her sad expression changed to anxiety. “He hasn’t seen my eye because he is out of town on business until tomorrow. I’m hoping I can ice down the swelling today.”
Katherine was wide-eyed with distress. Her heart went out to her friend. “This is terrible. I’m so sorry for you—and for your mother. Do they know about this at the residence where she lives?”
“Non! If they discover she is being physically violent, they will move her from her little studio apartment and admit her to the extended-care wing. They might put her in restraints or medicate her into oblivion! I couldn’t bear that. Anyway, it doesn’t happen all the time.”
“I’m stunned. I don’t know what to say. How awful for you. And she doesn’t do this to anyone else?”
“It would be recorded in her file if she did. Thibaud insisted on coming with me when this began. Maman would be as sweet as meringue in front of him, but she would not let him touch her. Then she would ask me to help her to bed or to the toilet and pinch me or squeeze my arms with unbelievable strength. Even if he was looking, she might kick me in the stomach or in the back and then smile sweetly at him. It’s bizarre. I know the true side of Maman would never do this. This side of her is a completely different being. I can’t bear to report her, and I asked Thibaud to stop coming.”
“And . . . ?”
“He grudgingly agreed but does not like this arrangement one little bit. I lie to him and tell him it is getting better, but when he sees my eye, I’m afraid he is going to insist on getting involved.”
“Do you think your mother realizes what she’s doing?”
“Most of the time, no. Every once in a while, her face will soften after she has hurt me and she will cry and beg my forgiveness. That’s the hardest time of all for me. She was the best mother: kind and loving and always supportive. She would be aghast to think she had done anything like this. It tears me apart to see her this way, and I will deal with my bruises to help her maintain some vestige of dignity.”
Katherine refilled thei
r teacups after Félix brought another pot of tea. They sat quietly. She couldn’t help thinking about Elisabeth, feeling grateful for the dignified manner in which her mother had spent the latter years of her life. Then she thought of Simone and felt gratitude again. You just never know.
Kat and Annette talked about aging and how there were so many variables over which people had no control. “It’s really frightening me,” Annette said with a sigh. “I can’t stop thinking about it these days.”
“I understand. Listening to you is causing me to feel very fortunate for the way my mother was right to the end. Even though she spent a few years caring for my father as he became increasingly an invalid before he died, she lived eight more years, quietly making the most of each day.”
Annette told her that two years before, her father had died suddenly of a cerebral hemorrhage, and that had been when her mother’s anger began. Their married life had always been simple and contented, and her father had spoiled her mother with pleasure. “She never got over him leaving her like that!”
Kat nodded sympathetically. Annette continued, “Then I moved her to the seniors’ residence after a year because she was not happy alone in their big house. At first she was okay with the idea, but after we had her moved, she became even angrier. My brother is no help, so it all falls on me.”
“It’s the luck of the draw whether we’re dealt a hand with senility or Alzheimer’s or whatever else,” Kat speculated. “This is all a reminder to seize each day as it comes.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Annette told her. With a pleading look in her eyes, she asked Katherine to help her. “Now that you know, perhaps there is someone you can think of who might be able to offer some advice.”
They talked and sipped and sometimes just quietly watched people passing by.
“I have to admit . . .” Katherine began and then hesitated. “Please forgive me for my assumptions, but I thought Thibaud was hurting you. I noticed your bruises.”
Annette’s eyes were sympathetic. “That’s the natural suspicion, isn’t it? But that is not the problem. I mean, we don’t have the best relationship—he is very aloof—but he is caring in his own way. Although right now he is upset with me for not letting him interfere with this problem with Maman.”
I Promise You This (Love in Provence Book 3) Page 19
