There will be time for that.
She heard her mother’s voice. Every day is a gift.
Drifting off to sleep a short time later, Katherine resolved to live more by her mother’s words. She wondered if she had been closing doors that she shouldn’t, and she questioned if she knew how to open them.
Wakening later than usual the next morning, Katherine felt an overwhelming urge to stay in bed. Coincidentally, it was raining—in fact, it was teeming: thunder, lightning, the whole package. Nick had once described the rainstorms along the coast as brilliantly spectacular, and this one certainly packed a powerful punch.
Realizing she had left all the windows open, she dashed through the house, closing the shutters.
There was very little water on the floors thanks to the thick walls and sloped ledges of the window openings.
Clever builders, those ancient craftsmen.
Boiling a cup of hot water and adding lemon, she went up to the guest room and climbed into that bed. From there she could look out through the French doors and watch the normally calm sea roil in the storm.
Ghosts from her visit to her mother’s town continued to haunt her. Her heart felt heavy and sad as she struggled to work through the pain that had accompanied her return. Running through the classic questions of how and why, she knew there were no answers.
She heard her mother’s voice saying, “What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger” and knew better than ever what she had meant. She sent e-mails to Andrea and Molly, telling Andrea she would be there to Skype at 6:00 p.m. Antibes time. A talk with her might help. Within the hour, the rain had stopped and the sun was already drying the streets. Kat knew there was one sure way to bring herself into balance as she put on her cycling clothes.
The small front courtyard had turned out to be the perfect spot to store her bike. Once out the front gate, she had to ride the wrong direction and turn back down the market street to get on her route. Stalls were being dismantled and several vendors were already closed, including Philippe.
“Katherine! Katherine!”
Braking, she turned to see Philippe waving to her from the front of his storage space.
“You are back so soon!”
“I couldn’t take it, Philippe. I had to leave.”
Philippe moved closer, as if to hug her. Feeling inexplicably shy, Katherine quickly positioned herself to ride off. “I know a ride will clear my head.”
“I’m so sorry for your sadness,” he said, his dark eyes piercing hers. “C’est difficile . . . but a ride helps everything. You are right about that. What route?”
She described her plan.
“Faites attention,” he said. “The road may still be slick in places. Take your phone. I can go with you if you want to wait while I finish here.”
“Thank you for being so thoughtful, but I really need to be by myself,” she replied, touched by his offer.
“D’accord. Please call me to say you are home safely.”
She rode along the Bord de Mer toward Nice, then cut up through Cagnes into the hills, a route familiar to her from the Tuesday-night rides. It was a straightforward and moderately challenging route, and she had no qualms going on her own.
Thoughts of her parents’ painful past fought against the rhythm of pedaling as she pushed herself harder, muscles straining. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Sobbing loudly at times, she was helpless against the emotions demanding to be released.
Gaining speed as she flew downhill, the switchbacks keeping her barely under control, a long gut-wrenching cry escaped from deep inside her heart.
After careening dangerously on the next corner, she began gradually braking and at length pulled onto the almost nonexistent shoulder. She leaned her bike against the rock wall and climbed up to a large boulder, where she sat with her arms wrapped around her legs and her forehead resting on her knees, her chest heaving.
Weeping, she thought not just about her parents, but also about James and the end of their marriage and everything that had occurred in the past year to lead her to where she was now: sitting on a boulder in the South of France looking down over hillsides and rooftops cascading to the endless blue sea, still alluring under an overcast sky.
Finally her tears abated.
The torment that had filled her began to dissipate as her thoughts cleared. The lessons learned from her parents, the integrity they demonstrated throughout their lives—in spite of the early suffering—had shaped her values and her spirit. This would be part of her forever. The shocking end of her marriage and the painful realization it had never been what it might have been, had opened her to seeing new possibilities in life . . . little by little, in ways she could never have imagined. Ways that brought her here.
She knew she had to let go of the past and give herself permission to move forward.
Always the obedient daughter or the accommodating wife or the dutiful employee. Now she was in charge of taking chances and deciding her next step.
She had felt the promise of this during her exchange in Sainte-Mathilde, and it was reinforced during her visit with François in Paris. Now she sensed a release.
“Finally I can just be me,” she said out loud as she climbed back on her bike.
She slowed her speed and focused on the ride. Gradually a semblance of peace overcame her as she gave in to the cadence and flow of her body and bike.
Skyping with Andrea later, as planned, they shed tears together while Katherine described the visit to the Ukraine and the ghosts that would not stop haunting her.
“The emotions were powerful. I felt like I was being sucked into a dizzying vortex of images and sounds from those horrific years. I had no control.”
Andrew had also spoken about their visit with his mom, so she was well aware of the difficulties Kat had experienced, and offered what comfort she could.
“Kat, you did what you thought was right, and I think in time you will be glad you went. You won’t have to wonder about it anymore.”
Then Katherine told her about the bike ride. “I believe this ride was a turning point, Andie.”
Next she surprised herself as she added, almost with a small laugh, “It was so powerful I’m betting Lucy has received a karmic message about it.”
“You have no idea how good it is to hear you say that and to feel the change in your voice!”
They chatted about other family news until Katherine was interrupted by knocking. “Hang on a sec, Andie. Let me just get the door.”
Nick stood outside the open door with another bouquet of flowers. Holding up his hand, he quickly said, “These are not a testament of love, but a bouquet of sympathy. I ran into Philippe, and he told me you had a difficult time. Please let me take you to dinner.”
Katherine smiled and graciously accepted the flowers. “I’m just Skyping with my cousin, so let me finish that. Come on in and pour yourself a pastis or whatever you want,” she said, pointing to the bar.
Signing off from Skype, Kat promised she would call her back the next afternoon. Before going back downstairs, she remembered Philippe had asked her to call him. She quickly did so.
“I’m back and I’m fine. It was a good ride, but you were right—there were some slick spots—so thanks for warning me to pay attention.”
“Très bien. I’m glad the ride helped you feel better. Would you like to have dinner with me?”
“Thank you, but I can’t,” she replied awkwardly.
After a light salad at one of the nearby cafés, Nick suggested they stroll to the port.
Katherine was aware of a nagging guilt at turning down Philippe’s offer. She hoped they would not run into him and wondered why it bothered her so much.
At the end of the ramparts, they stepped inside the white stainless steel sculpture that faced the sea and dominated the harbor of Port Vauban. Lit from the bottom in the unfolding darkness, there was a sense of a shimmering diaphanous embrace.
“The artist crafted his vision well,” Nick observe
d.
“I’ve been mesmerized by this from my terrace,” Katherine said, sighing. “It’s as if he’s a guardian, almost like a mirage from a distance.”
“This part of the ramparts is Bastion Saint-Jaume. Originally constructed in the 1700s, it was blown up by the Germans when they retreated in 1944 and rebuilt according to the original plans,” Nick said, ever the historian.
“This sculpture is so unique, almost magical.” Katherine studied the outline of a person squatting, arms around knees, constructed entirely of letters joined together.
“Le Grand Nomade, but tourists refer to it as the ‘Man of Letters’—for obvious reasons,” Nick continued. “Oddly, the Spanish sculptor’s name is Jaume Plensa.”
Katherine smiled at the coincidence.
Nick’s voice softened, reflecting the intimacy he craved.
“I love looking out at this from my boat and seeing how so many people are drawn to come near the sculpture. Plensa left the front of this piece open so people can stand or sit inside and be surrounded by letters, words, thoughts. And of course you can see through it to the stunning scenery that makes it even more powerful. It’s so much more than simply metal.”
They sat for some time in the warm evening air, talking intermittently, with Katherine sharing some details of her trip with Andrew. Nick listened with empathy, putting his arm gently around her shoulder.
“The war was such a different experience for us in Australia. Terrifyingly threatening, but we didn’t live it in the same manner they did here. I’ve heard some inspiring stories and many tragic ones since I’ve been staying in this part of the world.”
Walking home later, Nick took Katherine’s arm and slipped it through his, giving her an affectionate smile. Patting her hand as he felt a slight resistance, he said, “It’s okay, Kat, it’s okay.”
Looking straight ahead, she smiled shyly and nodded, a silent admission that she felt a warm response to his touch.
As they neared her house, she took the ancient key from her purse. Nick laughed. “I can’t believe you keep using that key!”
“I love it! I love the idea it has been turned in this same door by so many hands through two centuries.”
“You’re a funny bird, Katherine Price, a sweet, funny bird. I’m so sorry for the sadness you experienced on your trip.” He put his arms around her as they stood in the intimacy of the narrow street and pulled her close, something that had not happened to her in a very long time.
Resting her head on his shoulder briefly, she said, “Thank you, Nick, for being such a comfort. It was good to talk about this tonight.”
He kissed her gently on each cheek, lingering long enough to give a clear message of his feelings. Katherine caught herself almost ready to slip her arms around him just as he gave them a quick squeeze and pushed open the heavy door.
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
A sudden panic overtook her, and she decided to be busy for the next little while to spend some evenings on her own.
An e-mail message from Joy to both Katherine and Philippe reminded them of her invitation to come to the manoir for les vendages, the grape harvest. It was going to be held in three weeks’ time.
At the market for her morning leçon sur les fromages, Philippe asked Katherine if she was truly interested in going.
“I wouldn’t miss it for anything!”
“Will you drive with me?”
Katherine hesitated. “Do you mind if I go with you?”
“Avec plaisir. I did not want you to feel it was a foregone conclusion.”
Katherine smiled as she thought about it on the way home. For all the time they spent together in the cycling club, the two mornings a week she had her cheese lesson, and the odd meal or drink they shared, Philippe never stopped being a classic gentleman. She was discovering he had a great sense of humor and was thoughtful and courteous, but there was always a little edge of restraint. That was fine with her. She understood where he was coming from.
Walking home from the bus stop after her bridge lesson the following Monday, she heard Nick call her name.
“Katherine! Where are you going? Have you been avoiding me?”
“Hey, Nick, I’m just on my way home from bridge. What are you up to?”
“I’m heading over to the Blue Lady for a nightcap. Didn’t feel like drinking by myself. Want to come?”
One drink turned into a couple, with Katherine getting caught up in the convivial atmosphere of the pub and the banter among Nick’s high-spirited friends. Feeling a little unsteady on the way home, she didn’t object when Nick put his arm around her as they walked.
After opening the door to her house for her, he pulled her back gently as she began to step inside, and she slipped into his arms, her lips meeting his.
This time, he did not suppress his desire for her, and to her surprise, Katherine responded. They kissed several times, saying nothing as his lips brushed her face and neck before finding hers again, the caress of his mouth soft but demanding.
Katherine moaned lightly, her eyes closed, unsure if her head was spinning from the kiss or the martinis. “I think I better lie down.”
“Good idea,” he replied, the tone of his voice clearly implying he would join her.
“I mean alone. I’m feeling a little drunk,” she said.
Nick kissed her again, more passionately, before Kat eventually pulled away.
“Katherine Price, I’m going to kiss you into submission one of these nights. I’m warning you right now. Prepare yourself. You are a beautiful woman and I want you to be mine.”
Katherine gently pushed him away and waved good-bye. “Thanks for being so much fun. I needed to laugh! You’re a good kisser too—really! G’night.”
“Goodnight, gorgeous! Just remember, I’m going to be all over you. Consider yourself warned,” Nick said as he pulled the door closed.
Nick was taking it slow for her sake. She knew it and appreciated it but was beginning to think he might be the fling Molly wanted her to have.
Much to her surprise, Kat had been sharing all the details with Molly during their Skype conversations. “Spill, girlfriend!” Molly would say, and spill Katherine did. Molly continued encouraging Kat to have an affair. She had seen enough of Nick to feel he was a decent man and was convinced Katherine would only benefit from feeling some love from him. She believed Katherine had something good in her future, and the sooner she began taking baby steps toward it, the better. Molly wanted Katherine to recognize that her own sensuous, physical self still existed. Tony had certainly given Molly the gift of that belief.
“You know I’m not suggesting you turn into frickin’ Sally Slut! That would never be you under any circumstances.”
Kat laughed. “Got that right.”
“Trust me. There is love waiting for you. Love from a good man. I feel it. I’m not saying that good man is necessarily Nick. But he might be the right place to begin. It’s a new world, girl. Go for it!”
Katherine still struggled with whether she really had a place in the “new world,” whether she really wanted a place there.
She also knew Nick was a man with a history of relationships. He had never been secretive about it when some gorgeous younger woman sidled up to him at the Blue Lady and looked at him in a way that could only mean they had slept together.
Looking sheepishly at Katherine, he would shrug his shoulders and say, “Hey, I’ve been on my own for a while.”
They shared another evening of serious kissing on Katherine’s terrace after splitting a pizza at the café around the corner. Katherine was discovering more pleasure from Nick’s lips than she could recall. Certainly it hadn’t happened like this in her marriage. James had been a hasty kisser, wanting to get right down to business.
“Kat, that’s it. If I don’t get out of here right now, there will be no stopping me,” Nick whispered before getting up to leave.
She realized Nick could sense her hesitation in moving their physical rela
tionship along, but she was beginning to think she wanted more.
I’ve got to stop acting like a modest schoolgirl and listen to the passion that is building inside me.
Her dinners with Philippe were filled with easy conversation. He took pleasure in introducing her to all manner of fine dining in unobtrusive little hole-in-the-wall cafés that only a local would know. Their interaction became more animated but never moved beyond friendly, although she often caught him studying her carefully.
She also caught herself doing the same and began to wonder how it would feel if he kissed her.
There were several times when she shared dinner or a coffee or drink with both men. At those times she found herself fantasizing more than once about them, but then she would remind herself she was no spring chicken.
Why would either one be interested in me with all the beautiful young women around this town? If I were ten or twenty years younger, choosing between these two men would be a lovely dilemma.
48
This weekend might be the test, Katherine thought as she packed an overnight bag. Nick had invited her to cruise along the coast and over to Saint-Tropez. The distance itself would normally only take a few hours, but he had some stops planned, so they would make a weekend of it.
In spite of the sumptuous luxury of designer everything on Nick’s yacht, each area felt comfortable and easy to live in. There were three bedrooms besides the master, and Nick suggested she pick whichever appealed to her.
“Sharing the master bedroom is your best option,” he said, squinting slightly as he cocked his head and gave her a long look.
“I love this one,” Katherine announced, standing in the doorway of a small stateroom decorated in shades of turquoise and aqua like the sea itself. Nick smiled stoically as he placed her weekend bag inside.
Tim, the captain, and his wife, Twig, were on board, although Nick had told them no help would be needed in the kitchen. They had their own crew quarters and would be seldom seen. It was an odd feeling for Katherine, but she soon adjusted.
The Promise of Provence (Love in Provence Book 1) Page 35
