They had agreed a few days earlier, during a ride in the hills, that they would not spend this last night together. Katherine had insisted it would be far too difficult to say good-bye to each other. She wanted Bernadette to drive her to the airport so she could begin her trip, possibly, without being a total mess.
The night before had been their last together. They had moved the mattress onto the roof terrace and made love bathed in soft moonlight under the stars, the quiet rhythm of the waves lulling them. Knowing how to please each other, they still found ways to surprise in some tender and other wildly passionate moments. They held back nothing, and everything felt right.
Each wondered how they could walk away from what they had found. How everything that had become so familiar to them together would fade away.
Now Philippe leaned his bike against the front wall, under the brilliant blossoms of the cascading bougainvillea. He held the gate open for Katherine as she wheeled her bicycle into the garden, then she went into the house to get the travel carton.
Together they securely packed the bike away.
“Ma chère Katherine, mon petit chat, mon amour, c’est le temps. I will go now.”
Sweeping her into his arms, they kissed until they were almost breathless and clung to each other. Finally, with great reluctance, they released each other amidst promises to talk as soon as Katherine arrived in Toronto.
“Some people search all their life for what we have found together. This is not good-bye, I promise you,” he declared, his voice husky and breaking as he gathered her to him once more.
Katherine nodded into his shoulder, unable to speak. Her face wet with tears.
And then he was gone.
Katherine slowly climbed the stairs to her room. Her bags were packed, with the exception of her nightgown and toiletries. Putting today’s clothes into her travel laundry bag, she tucked that in her suitcase and stepped into the shower. Water mingled with her tears.
Crying would change nothing. They would have to work things out. The fact neither of them had said “I love you” was no longer a concern. Molly had helped her with that. Kat had felt the love they shared in every other way.
Perhaps Philippe was right and this was simply a lovely affaire de coeur that allowed us both to discover we were capable of more. That thought was quickly banished.
Katherine slept one floor down so she could lie in bed looking at the strip of moonlight reflected in the waves one last time. She did not want to be in the same bed where, for so many nights, they had made love, slept in each other’s arms, and felt sensations and emotions they thought had been lost forever.
The sea air was not soothing her now.
Her mind replayed the reasons she had convinced herself she needed to return home. A house. A job. Really? True friendships and treasured memories would remain with her no matter where she lived. This I am learning.
As she tossed with anxiety over her decisions, from the depths came her mother’s calming words.
Every day is a gift, Katica. Try to live your life knowing what matters most and always, always remember . . . what doesn’t kill us . . .
Finally she slept.
Katherine turned the key in the lock, rubbing her hand over the worn wooden door as she pulled it closed for the last time.
This has begun to feel like home.
A gray drizzle added to the somber mood in the car. Katherine said a silent good-bye to her familiar neighborhood before she and Bernadette passed through the arch in the ancient wall. In the harbor, the local fishermen were unloading their catch, preparing for their first customers.
As they turned onto the Bord de Mer, she leaned her head back against the seat.
“Not a nice way to remember this route,” Bernadette muttered. “You should ’ave one last beautiful sunrise, not this rain. It was to know you, un plaisir. Please say you will visit Antibes again.”
“The pleasure was mine. With all my heart, I hope to return.”
With few cars at that time of the morning, they were soon approaching Nice. Bernadette’s cell phone rang, and Katherine swallowed hard as she turned her attention back to the route she had driven and cycled so often.
She fought back tears, thinking of everything she was leaving behind. Philippe. Passing a cluster of cyclists caused her heart to wrench.
“You are so fortunate to live in this beautiful part of the world,” she told Bernadette when the brief call had ended.
Bernadette grumbled yet again how it would be even more beautiful if they could replace the French men with Swedes.
Katherine smiled briefly and then tears came, in a way she could not control.
I do not want to leave.
Bernadette handed her a box of tissues from the front seat.
I can always come back. This doesn’t mean the end to anything. I may be happy to be back in Toronto. I may love my new job.
Bernadette apologized before she pulled the car to the shoulder of the road and raised the hood. “Excusez-moi, there is a little problem with the engine, and I know we ’ave enough time before your flight. May I stop un moment?”
Katherine shrugged. A few minutes wouldn’t matter.
She took out her phone, hoping to see a text from Philippe, even though he had told her he planned a very early cycle to take his mind off her leaving. She had promised herself she would not text him until she was safely checked in—beyond the point of changing her mind.
Closing her eyes, Katherine considered the woman she was now compared to the day she arrived. It seemed like a lifetime ago. She was going home changed. Stronger.
Bernadette’s moment turned into several and then they were on their way again in a flurry of pardons from her. As they arrived at the airport, Katherine straightened with resolve.
Stopped in front of the international departure entrance, Bernadette helped load the bags on a cart. They bised warmly, and Katherine handed her an envelope with a generous tip inside, ignoring the protests.
With a deep breath and with one last backward wave, Kat entered through the automatic doors to the check-in area.
This is it. It’s the way it has to be.
Taking her passport and boarding pass from her purse, she stepped into line. The reality would be easier to accept once she was through security and settled at the gate.
A curt announcement over the loudspeaker informed there would be a delay at the counter. After a few words of commiseration with the people next to her, she took out her Kindle and read until the line began to move once more.
“Katherine.”
Startled, she turned and watched in astonishment as Philippe strode through the terminal toward her. In his cycling clothes, drenched from the rain and the sweat of his race to the airport, he hurried along the line as the other passengers stared wide-eyed.
With the velour rope barrier between them, he stopped.
His eyes told her everything before she heard his words.
“Ne me quittes pas.”
Katherine was rooted to where she stood.
“Please stay with me.” He reached for her, still struggling for breath from the exertion of cycling against time.
They folded into each other’s arms across the barrier. Their embrace was gentle and loving. His lips tasted salty and sensuous on hers. Katherine felt overcome with the desire to be with him, to trust everything she believed that promised.
She ran her fingers through the damp curls clinging to his neck as his arms pulled her tightly into him. Every nerve of her body was on fire.
He is what matters most to me.
Oblivious to the looks and smiles and gentle applause swelling around them, their long embrace left Katherine soaked too.
Philippe’s lips brushed her ear. “Let’s take a chance.”
Katherine felt joy surge through her with no fear, no anxiety.
Still speechless, her feelings raw and exposed, Katherine reached for her carry-on.
The passenger behind her unhooke
d the rope while Philippe took Katherine’s hand and her bag as she stepped out of the line.
Their gazes remained unbroken. Smiles spread across their faces.
“Let’s go home,” he said.
“Allons-y. Let’s go.”
EPILOGUE
Katherine’s impulse to ignore her flight home and leave the airport with Philippe felt magnifique at the time. After weeks of soul-searching, she knows in her heart this is the right choice.
This is love.
However, life doesn’t always turn out as expected.
Who can predict what the future holds?
AFTERWORD
Dear reader,
Thank you for your tremendous response to Katherine’s story!
I’ve been overwhelmed by requests for the story to continue . . . and so it shall! The Promise of Provence has now become Book One in the Love in Provence series, and two more novels are to follow.
Promises to Keep (Book Two) will be published by Lake Union in October 2015, and I’m busy writing the next. I’m excited myself to see how this adventure unfolds.
All these books will encompass Katherine’s love of everything in the South of France that appeals so much to those of you enjoying her story. Your enthusiasm makes my work a pleasure.
To bring these stories to life even more, the Womens Travel Network in Toronto has worked with me to develop a tour of the Côte d’Azur and the countryside of Provence. For women only, in small groups of twelve to sixteen, this is a fabulous trip that I get to lead. Details can be found on my website. Join us!
If you would like to receive updates on the progress of the next novel through my monthly newsletter, there’s a sign-up link on my website as well.
patriciasandsauthor.com
facebook.com/AuthorPatriciaSands
twitter.com/patricia_sands
À bientôt!
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Family, writing, and travel are my passions—okay, and chocolate—and I’m seldom without a camera. Toronto, Canada, is home for me most of the time, Florida some of the time, and the South of France whenever possible. There are benefits to getting older!
Beginning with my first Kodak Brownie camera at the age of six, it seems I have told stories all my life through photography. With our happily blended family of seven adult children and, at last count, six grandchildren, life is full and time is short. Becoming an author in my—gasp—sixties was not on my agenda. But here I certainly am, and writing is what I will continue to do.
Writing offers me the opportunity to examine the rewarding friendships and bonds women share and the challenges life often throws in our paths. I prefer to celebrate the positive friendships most of us experience rather than perpetuate the stereotypes of bitchy, negative connections, full of angst and drama, that are so often featured. That is why I was motivated to write The Bridge Club.
My greatest reward has been the many messages I have received from readers describing the valued friendships in their lives and saying how the story was a reminder to celebrate each one. Many thanks to all of you, and please do keep talking to me!
Inspiration for The Promise of Provence came about after supporting some friends when their long-established marriages fell apart. It also seemed the perfect chance to write my love letter to France, share my appreciation of home exchanges (my husband and I did our eighth exchange in September 2013), and to offer a message that we are never too old to begin again.
I based the character of Elisabeth, in this story, on my late mother-in-law, Elizabeth Landman. The carpet described in this novel hangs in the home of one of our sons. The history of how it survived, as written in these pages, to finally arrive in Canada, will be treasured and will live on, as will the memory of Elizabeth and her family.
One of the great pleasures of being published is receiving requests to speak with women’s groups on the subjects of writing and self-publishing as well as the importance of valuing our personal stories. I encourage women of all ages to embrace change and see challenges as opportunities. I live by the philosophy that it’s never too late to begin something new, to seize each day and be a “possibilitarian.” As the saying goes, just do it!
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It would be impossible to thank all the people who have, in large and small ways, inspired and assisted me in publishing this novel.
My large and loving family deserves my first thanks—in particular, my patient and supportive husband.
I am grateful on a daily basis to the writing community and the collegiality we share. It’s an exciting time to be a writer. I am so fortunate to have the support of honest and critical beta readers and excellent editors, proofreaders, and cover designers.
Thanks to Heidi Lee, owner of the English Book Shop in Antibes, for her friendship and observations about living in that part of the world. It was a thrill to see my books on her shelves. It was sad to see this iconic bookstore close in January 2015, but good news to hear the new Antibes Books is open at 13 rue Georges Clemenceau.
Jacques, a fromager at the daily Provençal market in Antibes, was generous with his friendship and the time he took to enlighten me about his work, and I am grateful for every taste of cheese we enjoyed from his stand.
Of equal importance are the readers who enjoy my work, visit my blog, write reviews, send messages, and offer tremendous support on a daily basis. Knowing that my writing is meaningful to you is the greatest reward, and I look forward to ongoing conversations with you. Thanks!
I realized as I was writing The Promise of Provence that, as well as celebrating the idea of hope and change as we age, this novel is also in many ways my love letter to France.
I feel I owe a debt of gratitude to France—the country, the culture, the history, the language, the people I have met . . . just everything. How I loved writing about the stunning departement of Provence–Alpes–Côte d’Azur and Paris . . . indeed, the entire culture of France that has captured my heart for over four decades. In particular I want to share my love of the town of Antibes–Juan-les-Pins, where my husband and I lived for five months in 2011. To be specific, thanks especially to La Vieille Ville, which took hold of my imagination with its atmosphere, beauty, and vibrancy and provided the perfect setting for this story.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Patricia Sands lives in Toronto, Canada, when she isn’t somewhere else. An admitted travel fanatic, she can pack a bag in a flash and be ready to go anywhere . . . particularly the South of France.
Her award-winning debut novel The Bridge Club was published in 2010, and her second novel, The Promise of Provence, the first in the Love in Provence Series, was an Amazon Hot New Release in April 2013, a USA Best Book 2013 Finalist and a 2013 Finalist in Literary Fiction, National Indie Excellence Awards.
Celebrating the rewarding friendships and bonds women share, her stories examine the challenges life often throws in our paths. Location features prominently in all her novels.
For book club discussion questions or to contact Patricia, please visit patriciasandsauthor.com.
The Promise of Provence (Love in Provence Book 1) Page 42
