Delphine proudly led them into the back room.
A chorus of animal sounds greeted them. The Johnstons paused to look at and coo over each animal. Kat took Philippe’s hand and led him to where Delphine was opening a crate.
With a one-handed flourish, Delphine dropped the throw sheet to the floor.
Kat and Philippe both knelt down as the pups barged out and made the rounds with nonstop licks and wagging tails. Everyone laughed with delight at their antics and adorable squeaking noises.
Philippe picked up each little brown bundle of fluff and examined it closely, pumping Delphine for more information about their history.
He looked at Kat and chuckled, “No pressure? Comment puis-je dire non? How does one resist these?”
“I know you were going to place another order with the breeder because we missed getting the pup from the original litter. It never occurred to me that I would look at any dogs here.”
Philippe smiled warmly. “I think giving a rescue dog a home is a great idea—I don’t know why it didn’t cross my mind before. I just automatically thought of going through a breeder.”
Going into the office, Delphine returned with some pages stapled together. She addressed Kat. “After you left yesterday, I put together all the information we had about these two, and I spoke with the administrator here to make certain I didn’t miss anything.”
She blushed a deep red through her pale makeup as they all commended her on being so efficient.
Kat said, “What do you think, Philippe? Honestly, it’s up to you, being more knowledgeable about dogs. If you think we should wait for the litter at the breeder, I’ll certainly agree.”
Philippe was quiet for a moment, except for the sounds he was making to the pups as he snuggled one and scratched the belly of the other. “Non, it’s what you think, Minou. This is your gift, and you have to choose.”
Katherine hugged Philippe. “Mille mercis! I want one of these, as long as you feel they’re healthy and of good stock. Choosing one won’t be easy, however. Should I go with the male or the female? Unless I pick them up, I can’t tell them apart.”
“Well, I’m sorry,” Philippe said with a wide grin, “but you have to make a decision.”
Véronique and David watched with amusement as Katherine cradled first one pup and then the other. After a while, she said, “Okay, I’ll take the female. I hope she won’t be too lonely without her brother.”
Delphine told her that most pups get separated from their siblings. “It’s more the humans who agonize over the parting, not the canines.”
“So it’s final, then, mon amour? That’s your choice?”
“Yes,” Katherine agreed, holding the wiggling bundle in her arms.
“Eh, bien! Then I will choose her brother. Merci beaucoup.”
Katherine gave him a confused look. “So you’re saying you want us to take the male instead of the female?”
“No, I’m saying you take the female and I will take the male. En fait, we will take them both home!”
Katherine handed the pup she was holding to Véronique and threw her arms around Philippe once more. “Vraiment? Really? Both pups?”
With an ear-to-ear grin, he nodded. “Both pups. We will be a two-pup family!”
Delphine wiped her eyes, smudging eyeliner down her cheek. “Bravo! C’est formidable! I was hoping they would not get separated, in spite of what I told you about it being okay. C’est trés cool!”
“We can be the dogparents!” David suggested. Véronique nodded enthusiastically.
Delphine cleared her throat and excused herself for interrupting the celebration. “I have a responsibility to give you information about raising the pups together. You do not want them to develop littermate syndrome. They must have separate crates and be trained separately or they will become too dependent on each other. It will be twice the amount of work.”
Katherine and Philippe looked at each other and nodded. “Allez! We’re up for it, Delphine.”
The young woman continued, “We have been treating them this way already, though we sometimes put them in the same crate to play, and they are responding very well; they will soon be potty-trained, if you continue the same routine. They also have been socialized with the kittens here. It’s all in the papers I will give you.”
Philippe nodded. “We will go shopping for crates and food and some toys today—all the supplies we’ll need. Then we’ll pick up our pups tomorrow afternoon. Does that work?”
“We’re having lunch with Simone tomorrow, so we can come here directly after that,” Katherine reminded him, consumed with excitement. “Or we could come in the morning since it’s your day off.”
“But we wouldn’t want to leave them alone right after we get them home. So after lunch it is!”
The Johnstons took photos of several cats and promised they would seriously consider returning.
They all went back to Kat and Philippe’s apartment, where they took their time choosing the best wall location for Elisabeth’s carpet.
Having their friends help in the ceremonial hanging of this treasure of Kat’s made it all the more meaningful to her. Véronique and David did not know the details of the history. When emotion overtook Katherine, Philippe was able to continue the narration.
It was a powerful ending to a lovely day—one Katherine would never forget, and one that brought her another step closer to seeing she was indeed home.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The next day, it felt strange to arrive at Simone’s home in a car. But blustery winds and heavy rain left them no other option. This was winter weather on the coast at its worst.
Simone phoned to suggest they postpone their lunch date if Kat and Philippe would rather stay home. Since it was Monday and the market was closed, she was concerned about them leaving the dry indoors for a visit with her.
Without hesitation, Kat had replied, “Simone, my curiosity is piqued to the limit. If I had to crawl through quicksand in a typhoon to get to your house, I would.”
Though Kat could barely contain her excitement about the pups, she wanted to concentrate on much more serious matters for the time being. She would save that news for the right moment.
After greeting her guests at the door with lingering bises, Simone graciously invited them into her main salon. As usual, she was dressed in white, but not her usual cotton yoga gear or perfectly pressed linen. Today she wore a full-length cashmere cowl-necked knit dress with long sleeves. She looked elegant and relaxed as she sank into the colorful deep cushions on her white sofa.
A well-tended fire warmed the room. Delicious aromas wafted from the kitchen and filled the air. A silver tray rested on the coffee table with a bottle of Veuve-Cliquot nestled in ice. Three delicate cut-glass flutes waited to be filled.
“Philippe, would you mind serving the champagne?”
“Avec grand plaisir,” he replied. Katherine was aware of a tone of great affection for Simone. It was all she could do to keep herself from begging them to begin sharing their secret.
Simone raised her glass, and they joined her. “We have much to toast today. First, your return to Antibes, along with the beautiful ring Philippe has placed on your finger, Katherine.”
Smiling, they raised their glasses toward each other, eyes meeting as they sipped.
“Next,” Simone continued, “I wish for us to toast the memory of Gregoire Dufours and our son, Jean-Luc Garnier.”
Philippe repeated the toast and Kat joined in, wishing she knew what was going on. Wasn’t Gregoire Dufours the grandfather of Philippe and the father of Oncle Francoise and Philippe’s father? She felt most confused, and that obviously registered in her expression.
Philippe gave her a tender smile. “It will all make sense in a few moments.”
“Shall I begin?” Simone asked, looking to Philippe for a response.
Bowing his head with great respect, he said, “It is your story, whenever you are ready.”
“Bien. Je dois c
ommencer . . . it is time. Katherine, you may recall I mentioned that during my years in the Resistance, I fell in love with someone. That someone was Gregoire Dufours, le grandpère de Philippe.”
Katherine blinked in surprise. Philippe reached for her hand.
Simone continued. “He was ten years older than I was when we met in 1942, and was married with four young sons. He was sent to Normandy from Antibes to help train those of us who were working in the communications group of la résistance.”
She nodded to Philippe. “Mon chèr, why don’t you explain a bit more about your grandpère’s expertise.”
Katherine sat spellbound.
“My grandfather had been in the military from a young age, and his specialty had been espionage. As the technology of the 1930s progressed, he specialized in electronic surveillance—such as it was. The main task was to disrupt German lines of communication and send reports to Britain to aid in planning their offensives.”
Simone broke in: “I was born with extremely sensitive auditory acuity. In some ways it plagued me as a child, and in other ways it defined me. Maman called it my gift.”
She paused, as if lost in a memory. “Finally something that had seemed to make me an oddity for much of my life became a valued skill. I could make out conversation in spite of terrible static and other interfering noises. Monitoring garbled radio messages from the enemy, between their divisions, provided invaluable information—as you can imagine.”
Katherine became more and more intrigued.
“We also were responsible for breaking into German transmittals and sending incorrect information to them. Gregoire was a master at this, and his German was impeccable.”
She stopped for a moment and sipped her champagne. “Oh, chérie, there is much to be told, and one afternoon will not begin to cover it. Let me move on to tell you Philippe’s involvement and how we are more closely connected than you might ever have imagined.
“When the war ended in 1945, there was fear and trepidation mixed with urgency to return to our families, hoping they had survived. We were so afraid to see what had become of all we held dear. But more than a few of us had fallen in love. Working together under constant threat of death, with our only goal that of defeating a brutal enemy we despised—well, emotions ran high. It’s impossible for anyone to even begin to imagine the volatility of our lives during those times.”
Katherine nodded, fascinated. “I believe you. It is unimaginable.”
“Gregoire and I became lovers. We denied it for months and then succumbed to a passion that was strong and true. I believe it kept us alive. Our commitment to each other and to our cause inspired us, kept us determined to defeat the terrible enemy. When the war was over, we could not bear to part. He went with me to see my family, and we discovered the worst of my fears there. Our peaceful simple farm, my home, our entire property, was a mess of craters from bombs. My brothers were missing, and so was my mother. No one could possibly live there, and I wondered if they had all died there. Gradually we came upon neighbors and villagers who knew much of the story.”
Philippe moved to refill their glasses. Simone covered hers gracefully with her fingers. “Merci. Non. One glass is more than enough for me.”
She cleared her voice and brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen across her face as she continued. “My brother Marcel had been taken away early in the Occupation. Remember, I told you we had slaughtered a cow and he insisted on saying he alone was responsible? He never returned. From that moment on, my poor father’s heart was broken and his health began to fail. My two other brothers became maquisards at the first opportunity.”
Katherine looked confused for a moment, and Philippe interrupted politely to explain. “Another name for resistance fighters, who were particularly active in the north and south of France.”
Simone nodded her thanks to Philippe. “I wanted to join them, but they laughed at me and said it was no place for a silly young girl. But they were mistaken. When they learned what was being done at the listening posts, they knew I might be very useful indeed, with my extraordinary ears. We had to steal off secretly, and soon after, unknown to me, my frail mother was disguised as a nun and driven by the priest to Paris to live with relatives.”
Finally, Katherine found her voice, filled with compassion. “Simone, please promise me that you will record your story, one way or another. I will help you. It must not be lost.”
“Oui, d’accord. Je te promets. I give you my word on that.” She drew a cross over her heart. Kat smiled inwardly, thinking she hadn’t seen anyone do that since she was a youngster. “But now I want to tell you about after the war.
“Gregoire was one of the heroes of the Resistance and of the terrible period, l’epuration sauvage, at the end of the war . . .” She stopped speaking with a noticeable shudder.
Again, Philippe explained: “There was a brief period of hysteria then against collaborators, as you can imagine. There was a wave of public executions, shamings, women who had or even were suspected of having romantic liaisons with Germans had their heads shaved . . . or worse. Grandpère was a strong voice of reason and calm in ending this.”
Simone took up the story again. “He received accolades and medals and a small cottage on the sea near Deauville. He was torn by his desire to see his sons, even though he admitted he felt no love for his wife. Their marriage had been fueled by family connections, not emotion. He wanted to stay with me forever. After a bit more than a year after the war ended, I realized I was carrying his child. I kept it a secret from him, all the while trying to convince him to go to his family. His boys were the twins Guy and Gaston, then Denis—Philippe’s father—and finally, François.”
Philippe interjected with a thoughtful, serious expression. “Papa was a little older than Oncle François and bore some painful memories about his father missing a lot of their childhood. Guy and Gaston were that much older and very bitter. Even though my father understood later what a hero his father had been, sometimes, for a child, that still doesn’t make up for a parent’s absence.”
It was Simone’s turn again. “Finally he agreed to see his family, but promised he would return soon. You must remember too that in France, it was not uncommon for a man to have a mistress. Particularly in those times. Indeed, it was quite accepted. But I did not want to be a mistress.”
She toyed with a wide gold band on her third finger. “As soon as he left, I stole away to my aunt in Corsica and hid my whereabouts. Jean-Luc was born there, and it was the most peaceful and soothing place for me. There was much healing to be done after the unspeakable horrors of the Occupation. I could not have been in a better environment in Corsica. Have you visited there, chérie?”
Kat shook her head, and Simone told Philippe he needed to take her there.
“Corsica is rugged and mountainous, with beautiful bays and white sand beaches along its coastline. In some places the golden hue of the rocky cliffs contrasts with the particular blue of the sea there, in a way unique to the island.
“At different times of the year, the air is perfumed with myrtle, lavender, heather, and other wild aromatic plants that create a dense thicket of undergrowth over the hills and valleys. Chestnuts are a staple.”
Philippe elaborated. “Today it’s still like going back in time—except for the summer traffic jams. But forget that for now. Imagine how untouched it was seventy years ago. It was occupied by Italian troops under Mussolini during the war, and then by German troops after Italy surrendered. But the history of the island has been more Italian than French, and you feel that.”
Simone returned to her story.
Her voice dropped to almost a whisper as she described life with her infant son. Katherine felt a lump catch in her throat. Even though she had not been a mother, Kat sensed the bittersweet mix of love and despair that filled Simone’s memories about Jean-Luc. About the son she had loved so deeply and tragically lost in a car accident. The pauses between thoughts were heavy with emotion.
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“Let’s refresh,” Philippe said gently. He stood and refilled their champagne glasses. After refusing earlier, Simone acknowledged that a splash might be a good idea after all.
Kat lowered her head to compose herself. She had felt a powerful message about life in Simone’s words. Particularly when she said, “No matter what obstacle or heartbreak is put in our path, we alone choose to be happy. No one else makes that choice for us.”
They expressed their sympathy to Simone. She nodded graciously before she collected her thoughts and continued the story.
“It was so tranquil. Living a simple life was the reality. There were few cars, and the road system was rather terrifying. People stayed in their villages, or walked or rode horses and donkeys from one place to another. That’s part of the reason the island is such a hikers’ haven today. There are footpaths everywhere.”
“Would we be happy cycling there?” Kat asked Philippe.
He grinned. “We would be very happy there on the Ducati, je t’assure!” he said, referring to his cherished vintage motorcycle. “It would be perfect with all the hairpin turns that lead to the breathtaking views.”
His comment caused Katherine to look away quickly. An unexpected flashback had her nerve endings tingling, recalling the erotic sensations of her body pressed to Philippe’s the first time he took her for a ride into the hills above Nice.
After they had become a couple, Kat had told him how on that ride, with her arms wrapped around him, she’d had carnal desires that she hadn’t realized she possessed. Philippe had grinned, knowing every ride after that pretty much guaranteed passionate lovemaking to follow.
Kat caught her breath, feeling again like a schoolgirl, and brought herself back to the present. She stuttered, “Yes . . . yes . . . bonne idée!” She couldn’t disguise her pleasure as her face glowed, and she shook her head with embarrassment as Philippe’s eyes met hers.
Simone’s face registered a wise and knowing smile before she continued. She’d been there. She knew those feelings.
I Promise You This (Love in Provence Book 3) Page 22
