Kat stopped again and looked Molly in the eyes. “You did not say that! Tell me you didn’t.”
Molly laughed. “Well, there was a day when I might have but . . . no, I never did. I had an extremely polite response about feeling more friendship than romance for them. I might as well have said the other. It was never well received.”
Katherine sympathized, “Rejection is never easy.”
“That’s one of the pieces of advice these dating websites stress. It’s not that simple to put into practice. You learn it’s hard to find someone you connect with in all three departments: head, heart, and pants. Nothing clicked for me. Certainly not Fish-gutting Guy.” She sighed. “I mean, nothing.”
Katherine looked at her with compassion. “Oh, Molly, it must have been depressing.”
“Yup! That about sums it up. That’s why I stopped.”
“I can’t say I blame you,” Kat muttered, putting her arm around Molly. They stopped to untangle the leashes the dogs had managed to wrap around each other.
“The pups obviously need more leash training, Kat.”
“Maybe we need more leash training!” Kat laughed. “We can’t talk and keep Rococo untangled at the same time.”
As they continued walking home, Molly picked up the conversation where they had left off.
“I have my music, and you know that comes straight from my heart. I’m so relieved my singing wasn’t affected by my injuries. And I have my students. You know how I love teaching. Now I’ve experienced whole new dimensions of life that I hopefully can share with the kids. So screw the dating scene. I simply don’t need it.”
Kat debated dropping the subject. Molly sounded convincing and sure of her feelings. Why should I push it?
But then she did.
“So do you still have your friend with benefits? The enigmatic hot Italian lover?” Katherine asked, feeling as if she was completely crossing a line. On the other hand, as she’d told herself often during the past two months, she and Molly were true friends who cared about each other, and it was time to put all their cards on the table.
Molly stopped walking. Rocco took advantage of the halt in their stroll to engage in serious sniffing around nearby bushes, and Coco soon joined him.
Katherine spoke again. “Molly. After all these years, I think you can be honest with me. You know you can trust me.”
Molly spoke slowly and clearly. “You know who my friend with benefits is, don’t you?”
“I think so. I just need to hear you say it. You said this accident was a game changer for you. Why not change your life in every way? What could possibly be a better time than now?”
The two friends faced each other. Their eyes met.
“Okay,” Molly said, taking a deep breath and not breaking Kat’s gaze. “So all that online dating stuff happened intermittently. Tony is the lover I’ve had all these years, but there were times when we tried to go our separate ways.”
“I can imagine,” Kat said, filling in a long pause on Molly’s part. Katherine could tell this was emotionally difficult for Molly.
With her voice almost a whisper, Molly said, “He means everything to me. I will never look for anyone else again. We both realized that a few years ago. The only problem is that we can never be together because of his calling in life.”
Katherine continued to meet Molly’s eyes. “His obvious concern for you in the hospital certainly caught my attention. Probably not everyone else’s, so don’t worry about that. His caring for you took precedence over everything else when your life hung in the balance. You’re very fortunate to have that kind of love in your life.”
This time Molly snorted. “Well, I’m not sure how fortunate a woman is when her primary competition is the Catholic Church—or God.”
They began walking again, and Molly poured her heart out. She spoke of the early days of her friendship with Father DeCarlo. She first met him through the drug-addiction problems her brother, Shawn, faced and her involvement in trying to help him.
“We were friends for a few years before it evolved into a relationship. No one put more effort into helping Shawn kick his drug habit than Tony. I had—and still do have—so much respect for him. He was kind to me and spent a lot of time getting to know me and Shawn and learning the details of our past, of our childhood. I trusted and respected him before I ever realized how attracted I was to him.”
“So how do you see your love affair continuing?”
“I guess we will simply carry on as we have . . . in secrecy.”
“But wouldn’t it be better for both of you if you could be open and honest about your love for each other?”
Molly’s expression saddened as she struggled to get the words out. “Impossible. The Catholic Church would never accept our relationship. We’ve talked about it.”
“But what if he left the church? Wouldn’t that make it right for you?”
“I couldn’t live with the guilt. Tony is such a . . . well, such a man of God. He lives his faith in everything he does. That’s one of the reasons I love him so very much. He makes me a better person, and he even put up with my f-bomb issues for all those years.”
“Philippe and I got to know him—pretty well, we think—for the short time we had in Toronto. I mean, I’ve known him for years, of course, but only in his role as a priest. We were able to get to know Tony DeCarlo, the regular guy, in the hospital with you. He’s quite something.”
Molly’s face lit up. “I don’t know anyone else like him. Such simple things about him are exceedingly special. I guess if I had to describe him with one sentence, I would say that he lives life in the superlative.”
Kat looked amused. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone described that way. What do you mean?”
“Whenever he tells me something, it’s always, ‘Moll, I met the most interesting person today.’ Or, ‘I ate the hottest, most delicious curry for lunch.’ Or ‘I read the best book this week.’ See what I mean? Everything is in the superlative. He sees the good in everyone and everything. Nothing is ever a problem that cannot be solved. His glass is always half full. No, let me correct that! His glass is always full . . . or, as he likes to say, his cup runneth over.”
Katherine could hear the love in Molly’s voice amid her restraint. “I’m sure he loves you in the superlative too!”
Molly looked at Katherine with an expression mixed with sadness and relief. “I guess I’m glad that I’ve told you. I’m not sure, though. Please don’t let on to Tony that you know anything about our relationship . . . maybe you shouldn’t tell Philippe either.”
Katherine was torn between continuing the conversation and revealing all that she knew. But Tony had also spoken to her in confidence. She knew she had to respect that until he told them otherwise.
At least the door to talk about it had been opened. She hoped Molly would let her walk through again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
As soon as the market closed the following Saturday, Philippe loaded the car while Katherine and Molly walked the pups. They were all on their way to visit Joy and the rest of the family in Sainte-Mathilde for two days.
Katherine made arrangements with André so he did not need her at the exhibit, which still had another week to run. Philippe was taking Sunday off. Molly was beside herself with anticipation. The pups were bouncing with eagerness to do everything.
Philippe gave Molly a running commentary as they drove along the route that was now so familiar to Katherine. Molly admired the beauty of the red hills of the massif de l’Esterel.
She became thoroughly animated as the car turned up into the countryside through vineyards, orchards, and farm fields still sleepily beginning to emerge from their hibernation.
The vineyards still wore their winter look, with no leaves evident so far.
“Our last few weeks have been rather cool. I think bud break will commence soon, though, and the vines will begin to show signs of green growth,” Philippe predicted.
; In contrast, the creamy drifts of the early-blooming almond trees made up for the lack of color in the fields, and pink-tinged cherry blossoms were beginning to open. Combined with the gray-green mounds of lavender plants, there was a sense of spring in the air.
Every perched village elicited moans of delight from Molly, and she made Katherine promise they would visit a few. After studying a Luberon guidebook Katherine handed her, Molly chose Roussillon and Gordes since they were not far from Joy’s.
Joy had called to forewarn them that temperatures dropped significantly in the evenings, so they should bring some warm clothes. She also said the winds had died down and the rain had stopped. She felt they would have two lovely days and suggested they plan to take the dogs on some good walks.
As they pulled into the driveway of Joy’s manoir, Molly gasped again. “I’m living the dream!”
Katherine chuckled and said, “Now you know how I felt when I arrived for my exchange! I was in that dream too.”
The front door opened before they could get out of the car. Once again, Henri was the first to reach them. “Henri, you are becoming the official greeter!” Katherine said as they exchanged bises.
He greeted Molly warmly, having met her at André’s exhibit. “Bienvenue! We have heard so much about you and are so happy to see you again. What better place to recuperate than with Katherine and Philippe?”
Sylvie followed closely behind Henri and, after welcoming everyone, she peered through the window into the backseat. The pups were standing in their travel crates, tails wagging as they eagerly pawed to join the welcome.
“Quels beaux chiots! The pups look so sweet! Should we let Picasso out? Maman is holding him in the great hall until we let her know what to do.”
“Oui,” Philippe agreed as he unloaded the overnight bags. “Let our boy Pico out to greet us first and then we will introduce Rocco and Coco to him.”
Henri whistled loudly, and Picasso burst out of the house. As always, he danced eagerly between Philippe and Katherine, happy to see them, and at the same time made Molly feel very welcome too.
Katherine got on her knees to give him a hug and receive his standard sloppy kiss.
Joy followed the dog out of the house and greeted everyone with delight. “Bienvenue chez nous, Molly. I know you’re like a sister to Katherine, and we’ve all been worried about you. How nice to see you are doing well. We hope you’ll feel at home here.”
By this time, the pups were excitedly barking and Picasso was bouncing up and down, trying to see where the noise was coming from.
Antoine, who ran the household along with his wife, Hélène, came out to take the bags from Philippe, which freed him to release the pups. Chaos reigned for several minutes as they raced in between Picasso’s legs and back and forth to their owners. Picasso took charge and ran in circles, with the pups in fierce pursuit. Every once in a while he would stop and chase them, which caused everyone to laugh uproariously.
After a few minutes, Philippe and Henri led the dogs around to the back terrace while the others went into the house.
“I’m sure you may be a bit hungry after your, drive so there’s some crostini and champagne waiting in the salon. Why don’t you get settled in your rooms and then we can relax together,” Joy said. “Antoine has taken your bags straight up, and Katherine, you know where to take Molly.”
Katherine and Joy hugged gently, as they always did, thanks to Joy’s British background. “I am so thrilled to see you. It feels like forever since we were all together for Noël.”
“And I you, ma chère. It’s been too long! But I know it couldn’t be helped. You must bring us up to date on everything when you come back downstairs . . . oh, but first let me see your beautiful ring.”
She took Katherine’s hand and examined the ring carefully, her eyes shining brightly. “C’est magnifique! I’m so happy for you both, and I felt so honored to play a little part in this by introducing Philippe to the jeweler. That made this old woman very thrilled to be in on the secret.”
Katherine nodded. “It was only fitting that you should be involved, Joy. I was thrilled too when Philippe told me about that.”
Wide-eyed, Molly followed Katherine up the grand marble staircase. She took in the portraits on the walls, commenting how they blended with the historic grandeur surrounding her. “Katski, this is even more beautiful than I imagined.”
“It’s truly magnificent, and the family even more so. You’re going to be enchanted and love it here, as I do.”
Molly came to Kat’s door after she had freshened up. “Mon frickin’ Dieu! Not only do I have a fireplace in my room, I have the most splendid four-poster too! It’s like Downton Abbey with a French twist!”
They giggled together as they went back downstairs where everyone was waiting.
As they settled into the comfortable furniture in the salon, champagne was poured and toasts followed. Molly was introduced to Christian and Marie, who had stopped to pick up Oncle François on their way. Molly beamed and blushed as the patriarch kissed her hand. The mood was jovial and celebratory with so much good news to share.
Picasso was lying in his bed in the corner of the room, with two exhausted chocolate bumps snuggled beside him.
Before dinner, Molly was given a complete tour of the manoir. She couldn’t stop asking questions. She was fascinated with the family history and the graceful particulars of the architecture. Everything—the high ceilings, wood beams, cavernous fireplace, and decorative plaster around windows and doors—elicited expressions of awe at the craftsmanship and attention to detail paid by the ancient builders.
Katherine and Oncle François slipped off to a favorite quiet corner to have one of their intimate conversations. He held Katherine’s hand lightly in his and spoke of his immense happiness at how events were unfolding between her and Philippe.
From behind the sofa, Kat retrieved a sizable paper-covered gift. The kindly uncle’s eyes lit with surprise and delight as he unwrapped an enlarged framed photo, which captured him sitting quietly on a rock, watching over his beloved goats in the early morning light.
Kat explained, “This was last June when I first arrived at the farmhouse, before we even knew each other. I was so taken with the peace I felt, seeing you in that soft lighting. Now I know those were some of the happiest times for you, and I hope this brings you joy.”
His beaming face mirrored his emotions.
Philippe joined them after a while, and they recounted to François their conversations with Simone. François’s eyes glistened as memories flooded back to him of youthful days on the Cap property.
“Of course I remember Simone, and of course I knew of her love affair with my father. However, we did not speak of those things in those days. She was always a lady, and we treated her as such on the rare occasions that we actually were in her company.”
His stories ranged from the dire conditions during the Occupation, when food rationing kept them all hungry, to the gala postwar parties that were held in the gardens of the Cap property. Simone often attended those parties. “Of course, those are memories of a child, so take some of them with a grain of salt.”
Much to Katherine and Molly’s surprise, dinner was served outside on the terrace with the propane heaters keeping everything cozy. Hélène had prepared her prized coq au vin recipe, which garnered great compliments from all the diners.
As Molly exclaimed it was the best coq au vin she had ever tasted, Henri coyly teased her that it was probably because she’d never eaten the dish with real coq. Molly looked a little flustered, and he quickly apologized and explained that Hélène still insisted on using the original recipe passed along through many generations of her family—and that meant cooking rooster, not chicken.
Joy took over the details. “It’s traditionally made by slowly cooking a rooster in red Burgundy wine with mushrooms, lardons, and pearl onions . . .”
“Un plus delicieux braise!” Oncle François interrupted with a dreamy expression
.
There were murmurs of accord around the table, as Joy continued, “The rooster is marinated all day and then is slow-cooked overnight in our wood-fired bread oven. It’s a dish we love in every season, as it’s both nourishing and deeply comforting—definitely a family favorite, but mainly thanks to Hélène’s magic touch.”
Everyone nodded in enthusiastic agreement.
“And somehow,” Philippe added, winking at Christian and Marie, who oversaw the family’s vineyard and stocked their vast cave, “the kitchen in this house always manages to have the best source for excellent wines.”
The evening passed quickly, filled with conversation as pleasing as the meal.
As Kat nestled drowsily in Philippe’s arms in bed that night, she murmured, “Le plaisir et la séduction—the first time I understood the importance of those words in explaining the life, the people, the culture of France, was from Joy and her family . . . then you made that come alive for me.”
“Hmmm, perhaps we should review what we know about plaisir et séduction, right here, right now . . .” Philippe murmured back, his voice low and husky, as his arms gently tightened around her. Kat turned her lips to meet his.
Sylvie decided to join Molly and Katherine the next day on their excursion to Roussillon and Gordes. Since she and Henri lived in Roussillon, the women would meet her there.
As they approached through the surrounding farmland and forests, Molly commented on the dramatic color changes in the soil and rocks. Ocher ridges popped out from the landscape, providing new scenery.
Katherine had pointed out the endless rows of mounds in the lavender fields on the way. “You have to come back to see them in June. This will be my first year experiencing the full whammy of lavender season, and I can hardly wait. Even André says it’s truly something to which no photo can do justice. Add that to your list of reasons to return, ma chère amie!”
“As if I needed any more!” Molly replied.
The reds, browns, oranges, and yellow shades of ocher in the painted houses of this colorful village soon appeared on the hilltop. It was time for Molly to gasp once again. “It’s simply stunning, there’s no other word for it . . . the contrast of the colors with the greens beginning to show in the landscape and the blue of the sky. No wonder artists and painters found inspiration in Roussillon! Who wouldn’t want to live here?
I Promise You This (Love in Provence Book 3) Page 26
