French Toast (The French Twist Series Book 2)

by Glynis Astie

  I fixed Louis with my death stare. He should know by now, prefacing a statement with “I don’t want you to panic” will absolutely cause me to panic. Honestly, I don’t know where I had gone wrong in his Sydney-handling education.

  He sighed. “Please don’t worry. It is not a big deal. It is just...”

  My eyes widened. “What? What now? What else do I have to do? What possible other hoop is there for me to jump through for your family?”

  Yikes. Way to be harsh, Sydney. I guess I was tired of the requests for this wedding and all the activities which went along with it. Beyond all the stress for this trip and this wedding, I still had a feeling of dread that something would go wrong with MY dream wedding while we were out of the country. There were way too many scenarios I could run through in my mind to cover the potential disasters for the weddings in both locations. I really do have such talent. But there’s no need to be jealous…

  I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Bluey. I’ve been doing my best to relax, but it seems like every time I turn around, there’s something else I need to do. I want to please everyone, but I’m starting to feel like a performing seal.”

  Lest you think I had morphed into Bridezilla, allow me to apprise you of the list of activities coming my way before the wedding: I was to be a special guest at his mother’s weekly church group, one aunt’s garden group, another aunt’s bridge club, one uncle’s hunting group and another uncle’s fishing group. I was also to be recognized at a special town hall meeting in our honor, attend several dinners with Louis’ childhood friends and accompany his mother to two dances - all during the week before the wedding.

  Each event involved some type of special task due to my status as Louis’ bride. Lucky Louis wouldn’t even be attending most of these events, since he had his own list of activities with the male side of the family. (Most of which involved guns and motorcycles. At least HE would be having fun.) I had no idea how in the world I was going to survive on my own with a serious lack of knowledge of both the culture and the language. I haven’t even started on the pre-wedding events, which would mercifully include my family as well. I don’t want to overwhelm you, so we’ll have to discuss that later. Now we must return to my conversation with my husband...

  Louis regarded me with chagrin. “I know this is a lot for you, mon coeur. And I really appreciate how hard you are trying.”

  I stared at the ceiling, taking as many deep breaths as I could without hyperventilating. “What is it that you would like me to do?”

  He smiled tentatively at me. “Well....there is this poem she would like you to read right before we say our vows.”

  I opened my eyes and glared at him. “And?”

  “And since the ceremony is in French...”

  I sighed. “I’ll need to read the poem in French.”

  “Syd, your French is nowhere near as bad as you think it is.” He was desperately trying not to laugh. The bastard was really enjoying all the lengths to which I had to go to please his family.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Do I get cue cards?”

  He hesitated. “My mother would really love it if you could do it from memory.”

  That’s it. I need a drink. In fact, it’s a good thing Louis’ family owns a vineyard, because I’m going to need to drink A LOT of wine in order to get through all this. Take a deep breath, Sydney. This is important to Louis, so you must grin and bear it.

  However, I would like to state for the record, I’m the one who has to do all the outrageous shit. His part sounds pretty easy; in fact, it actually sounds like quite a bit of fun. I wondered if these events weren’t actual French customs and his family was simply messing with me because I’m American. I closed my eyes and laid my head against the seat. His family had missed out on a lot, so if I had to be hazed to be accepted, then so be it. It’s not like I haven’t embarrassed myself before. It was just unfortunate, in this case, every horrific experience was going to be recorded for posterity.

  Louis very wisely selected this time to go to sleep. I decided to ignore my concerns for a while by employing wine and magazines. In order to avert the disaster that was our last flight to New York (waking in the airport infirmary in an alcohol fueled state), I decided to get some food in my stomach quickly. Since the food on most airlines is pretty heinous, I busted out my snack regimen of cashews, crackers and chocolate. (No, I’m not restricted to foods which begin with the letter “c.” I find these particular items make a tasty snack mix.) After two more glasses of wine, and the bread and cookies from my otherwise questionable dinner, I managed to fall asleep.

  Louis woke me right after the fasten seatbelt sign had been turned off. We were in Paris and it was time to get off the plane. Thankfully, I only had a slight headache (and a moderate case of the stumbles) due to my wine adventure. Once we cleared customs, Louis took me to an airport cafe and ordered an assortment of fresh pastries. The smells wafting from the cafe were heavenly. Did I detect a hint of CHOCOLATE?

  Our waiter brought over coffee, tea and a basket of croissants, pain au chocolat and a few other pastries I had never seen in my life. Color me excited! I bit into a pain au chocolat and let out a small moan. It was really tasty.

  Louis threw back his head and laughed. “You are so easy, mon coeur! This isn’t even the good stuff.”

  I looked at him with wonder (and a mouthful of pastry.) “It’s not?”

  He wrinkled his nose. “It’s frozen. Wait until we get to Le Caylar and I take you to the village bakery. It will blow your mind!”

  This trip was suddenly looking a lot better. I then remembered all the events I would be attending prior to the wedding would have food. Really good French food, with lots of bread and pastries. This would help me. A LOT. So what if I put on a few pounds? In fact, that might not be such a bad idea...maybe then I wouldn’t be able to fit into the costumes his mother had purchased for me. (It started out as one dress, but they kept multiplying. I know, I know, I didn’t tell you. I was trying to shield you from my horror.) Both of my wedding dresses were a bit loose from the stress of the last few months…hmm....this could work. As long as I didn’t overdo it. I grinned and grabbed another pastry from the basket. Sydney Durand had formulated a plan.

  Following a very satisfying breakfast, we boarded our plane for Montpellier. This time I fell asleep (no doubt due to the mountain of carbohydrates I had inhaled) and Louis stayed awake. What felt like only a few minutes later, he was gently shaking me awake.

  He stroked my face and whispered, “Mon coeur, it is time to wake up. We are here.”

  I opened my eyes and yawned. “I’m ready.” I smiled and held out my hand.

  He returned my smile and helped me up. We both grabbed our carry-on bags and exited the plane. As we walked down the corridor towards the airport, Louis took my hand and squeezed it.

  “Are you ready for this, Syd?”

  I took a deep breath and felt my knees start to wobble. “As I ever will be, Bluey.”

  We had to retrieve our luggage from baggage claim before we could enter the portion of the airport open to the general public. I was grateful to have a few final moments to collect my thoughts before we joined his parents. Within minutes, our suitcases came out and it was time to face the music. The unfamiliar French music.

  When we reached the threshold of the door into the main concourse, I inhaled sharply. There were roughly thirty people standing there holding signs bearing the name, “Durand.” I recognized Louis’ parents and his two favorite cousins, was iffy about five or six of the other people (I knew I had seen them in photographs) and was completely clueless about the identity of the remaining crowd.

  Louis took in my wide eyes and laughed. “Welcome to the Durand family, mon coeur.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  I stood with my mouth hanging open for a small eternity. All I could think was, “Holy crap! Who ARE all these people?” What a beautiful picture I must have made for Louis’ extended family! N
ot exactly the image I was hoping to project. Once this thought occurred to me, I quickly closed my mouth and did my best approximation of a smile. I had done the best I could with my hair and makeup, but nearly twenty hours of traveling and fitful sleep had taken its toll. I had to get my facial expressions to behave.

  Suddenly, everything seemed to speed up. Louis was swarmed by a group of people and I was summarily pushed to the side. There was a flurry of activity and hordes of people were calling his name and patting him on the back. It was sweet to see how much his family had missed him, but I felt like an extraneous accessory. I then heard Louis saying my name and gesturing to me. I gazed up at the sound of his voice and found the horde advancing towards me.

  In an instant, I was completely engulfed in a stream of people whom I had never met. Each one beamed at me and said something in French so fast my head spun. It was then the official greetings began. Initially, I had felt prepared for this. Louis had always kissed my family twice - once on each cheek - so this is what I intended to do with his family. I could’ve killed him for not warning me that traditionally, his family kissed THREE times, starting with the left cheek. The lack of this knowledge, landed me in a few embarrassing situations. One of his uncles ended up with a kiss on the lips. I was mortified, but he seemed to be quite pleased, so I guess it wasn’t a total loss.

  Throughout the greeting process, I kept reminding myself not to hug anyone. Hugging is an American thing and considered to be yet another faux pas to the French. I was exhausted and completely overwhelmed, so it was a constant mantra in my head....Don’t hug anyone, don’t hug anyone, don’t hug anyone! What I found hilarious was while hugging was considered inappropriate, his aunts (Cousins? Friends?) had no problem with touching my face, smoothing my hair, pinching my waist and rubbing my back. I find these gestures to be far more intimate than hugging, but what do I know? I’m just an uncouth American.

  With each person I met, I tried my best to commit his or her face and name to memory. Unfortunately, I have a hard enough time remembering people’s names when my brain is functioning at full capacity. I was at a distinct disadvantage given my current state of fatigue induced anxiety. I had no idea how I was going to keep everyone’s name and relationship to Louis straight. He really should have thought ahead and made me some kind of chart to study. Yet again, his task was far easier than mine. My family is so small; he only had to remember six names, well, seven now that Sam has joined us. Seven names versus seventy. (Apparently, there were another forty family members who couldn’t make it to the airport.) My sanity was in serious danger.

  On top of the whole name conundrum was the language barrier. For some reason, each of his relatives were speaking to me as though I were fluent in French. Admittedly, I had put a lot of effort forth in studying this beautiful yet complicated language, but the results were not what I would have hoped. To complicate things further, they were all talking over each other with their thick Southern accents.

  That’s right, thick FRENCH Southern accents!!! Just take a moment to imagine what this would sound like. To say I was a deer caught in headlights would have been a severe understatement. I was a deer caught in headlights with my hind legs dangling off a precipice. Over a pit of lava. With poisonous gas rising towards me. Nope. It still sounds too tame.

  I desperately searched the room for Louis and found him laughing with a group of men. I recognized one as his uncle, Luc, with whom he shared an extremely close bond, so I simply continued to smile and nod at people, hoping he might remember he had a wife at some point. I suddenly felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to find Louis’ mother, Simone, smiling at me. She and I had spent many an hour trying to communicate over Skype. I didn’t understand most of what she said, but she smiled a lot and kept telling me how beautiful I was. At least, I think that’s what she was saying...

  After the requisite three kisses on the cheek, she held my face in her hands and started to speak to the women standing next to her. I only understood every other word - hair, pretty, tall, eyes, pants? My vocabulary was crumbling, clearly indicating my urgent need to sleep. Right now I was the embodiment of stupid tired.

  I craned my neck to search for Louis, only to find Simone taking my left hand and holding it painfully close to another woman’s face. (And I do mean painful. She had nearly pulled my arm out of the socket.) The two of them appeared to be examining my engagement ring and wedding band. There were a lot of “oohs” and “ahs” and a bunch of other words I couldn’t understand. For the next ten minutes I was led around by my hand so EACH and EVERY woman, including some outside of the Durand entourage, could see what beautiful rings I had been given by her generous son. While I appreciated the beauty of my rings more than anyone, this madness had to stop. I didn’t know how much longer I would be able to maintain a vertical position.

  At that moment, Louis’ favorite cousin, Monique, came to my rescue. She smiled at her Aunt Simone and gently removed me from her grasp. She took me over to the nearest cafe, ordered me a cup of tea and began to speak to me in Spanish. I laughed heartily. I took Spanish in high school and college and was infinitely more comfortable speaking Spanish than French. I was so relieved, I forgot my manners and hugged her. (Oops!) Monique didn’t seem to mind in the least. She hugged me back and told me in Spanish she thought I was doing really well.

  Ten minutes later, Louis came to find me. He seemed worried until he noticed I was sitting with Monique.

  “Mon coeur! I am so sorry. I got caught up in seeing everyone. I didn’t mean to leave you alone for so long.” He kissed me on the forehead and rubbed my back.

  I gazed up at him. “Relax, Bluey. I met a lot of really nice people.” I furrowed my brow. “I don’t think I understood most of what they said, but I smiled and nodded. They seemed happy.”

  He laughed. “They are all exceedingly pleased to meet you.” He kissed Monique on the cheeks, three times, of course and she rubbed his head affectionately.

  He and Monique then spoke in French for a couple of minutes. They both laughed a lot, but I was so tired I couldn’t follow the conversation. When Louis glanced over at me, his smile faded and he put his hand under my chin.

  “You are exhausted, Syd.”

  I took his hand and squeezed it. “I really need some sleep.”

  He said something quickly to Monique and took my hand. “Let us go get our rental car and start the drive to Le Caylar. I cannot wait for you to take a tour of the farm.” He was grinning from ear to ear.

  I smiled weakly at him and hoped he meant AFTER I had slept for several hours. And had eaten several more croissants.

  You will be happy to know the entire Durand entourage escorted us to the rental car counter, waited for the transaction to be completed and then escorted us to our rental car. As we said good-bye to everyone (thirty people at three kisses a pop takes a lot of time), I thought about how nice it would be to have Louis to myself for the hour long drive to his parent’s house. Unfortunately for me, Louis’ mother happily installed herself in the rear passenger seat (Louis had addressed the issue of the front passenger seat belonging to his wife on the walk to the car) and proceeded to talk for the ENTIRE car ride. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and prayed to God we could have a little peace when we arrived at his parents’ home.

  An hour later, we exited the highway. The first thing I saw was a huge metal statue of an elephant. Was the circus in town? I wondered if I were hallucinating from fatigue. I shook my head and peered out the window again. It was still there. As I imagined what could have prompted the erection of this massive pachyderm at the entrance to a town of less than four hundred people, Simone tapped my shoulder.

  I turned to face her, making my eyes as bright as I could in my current state of fatigue. She pointed frantically and rattled on in French at about a million miles an hour. Since I had absolutely no chance of understanding what she was saying, I trotted out the smiling and nodding, and it seemed to make her happy. Louis sat next to me and laugh
ed. I had a feeling he was going do this quite often during our stay in France. I really hoped I made it back to America without making a complete ass of myself. Though the odds were decidedly not in my favor.

  A few minutes later, we exited the main road and traveled down a long gravel drive with no dwellings in sight.

  Louis turned to me and grinned. “This is it.”

  I looked around and saw nothing but land for many, many miles. “Wow! I had no idea the farm was so huge.”

  His entire face lit up. “It was so great to grow up here. I rode my dirt bikes off those small cliffs over there....” He pointed out some cliffs which appeared to be fairly steep. Damn! “... and my uncle would let me drive the tractor from the age of eleven. Oh, and when I was seven, I swung from ropes in the barn,” he pointed with a flourish, “and my uncle accidentally hit me with his truck.” He laughed. “It was amazing.”

  Holy crap! He was hit by a truck! That must have been really painful. But clearly he was fine, so now he had a funny story to tell. I shook my head and thought about how different our childhoods had been. I had lived in a sheltered bubble compared to my adventurous husband. I shook my head and regarded him with wonder.

  Louis seemed so happy that my heart swelled. I can do this. I HAVE to do this! I have to make a good impression on everyone for his sake. How I was going to do this was still a mystery to me, but I had to try.

  Eventually, we pulled up to a rocky clearing next to a large house. Louis’ dad was standing by his car waiting for us, smiling while petting a large German shepherd. As I got out of the car, I remembered how much I liked Michel and what a great time I had trying to communicate with him over Skype. Of course, I couldn’t understand a lot of what he said, but he seemed like a genuinely happy person. He made Louis laugh harder than I had ever seen him laugh and he had a deep, rich voice and a contagious laugh. You couldn’t help but feel good around him.

  As I approached Michel to say hello (I had caught only a glimpse of him at the airport), I heard a sudden commotion. I stopped in my tracks and turned to see the source of the noise. Suddenly, I was hit by a wall of fur. You heard me. A WALL OF FUR. I should really say, a YELPING wall of fur. I soon found myself on the ground covered in muddy dogs. There were so many, I couldn’t discern how many or what kind of dogs they were. Louis had told me his parents had dogs, but I thought he meant two or three. This was an ARMY of dogs.