by Sarah Kinsey
When they arrived, Bessie was surprised to find that it smelled delicious inside and out. She told Marc to surprise her with a macaron flavor, and he happily obliged. Once they had their macarons, they sat down at one of the small tables.
“How are you liking France?” He asked her, smiling. “It’s quite beautiful, no?”
“Very beautiful, yes,” she replied.
She took a bite of her macaron. He had gotten her a coconut macaron, and she had to admit, it was better with real coconut water than it had been when he had made her a macaron with coconut flavoring.
“Marc... as much as I have enjoyed my time in France, I’m worried I’ll never get the hang of the language,” she said. “You were teaching me for weeks before I came out, and now that I’m here and trying to speak it, I can’t seem to find the right words when I need them, nor can I seem to find the right words when I try to speak English sometimes...” She pursed her lips.
He took her hand softly. “I had the same problem with English when I first learned,” he said. “I still can’t speak English as you can, and I have been speaking it for two years now. Give it time, Bess.” He kissed her knuckles softly.
She finished her macaron before continuing to speak. “What if I never get the hang of the language? I can barely pronounce some words well enough to make it sound like the word I’m looking for,” she continued. “How do you do it? Some of these sounds... they don’t exist in English.”
“I’m aware, Bess,” he said softly. “Just give it time. Even if you never fully understand the language, you will have a translator. Always.” He kissed her cheek softly.
“What do you mean?” She furrowed her brows.
He pulled away from her and got down on one knee. His hand reached into his pocket, and then, he showed her a small black box. When he opened it, there was a simple but beautiful diamond ring in it. “I have fallen for you harder than I ever thought possible, Bessie,” Marc started. “I know this has not been the kind of start either of us thought we would have to a relationship, but I know this is the kind of relationship I want in a marriage. Bessie Olsen, will you marry me?”
Bessie was shocked. She opened her mouth to say something, but only a small squeak came out. She managed to nod, and then, Marc put the ring on her finger.
“You’re always going to have someone by your side who speaks French,” he repeated, “so take a deep breath, and relax. If you have trouble, I will always be here.”
“Always?” She managed to say something as she looked from the ring on her finger to him.
He nodded. “Always. I promise with that ring that I will always be here.” He put his hand on her cheek. “You are a wonderful woman, Bess, and I would be remiss if I didn’t share that with you.” He kissed her softly before pulling away. “Now, how about we order a dozen macarons and go celebrate at the Eiffel Tower?” He smiled.
She smiled back, laughing a little. “So that’s why you’ve been waiting to take me to the Eiffel Tower?” She teased him a little. “That sounds like a wonderful idea, Marc. I would love to.”
“What flavors of macaron would you like?” He stood up to go order them.
“Surprise me!” She smiled a little.
He laughed, and then he walked over to order more macarons. She watched as he ordered them, and she then realized how lucky she was. Things could have gone south incredibly quickly after her mother passed away, but because he was there to listen to her, they had only drawn closer after her mom passed.
He returned with the macarons. “To the Eiffel Tower!” He smiled at her.
“Let’s go,” she said. She stood up, and took his hand. He held the box of macarons in the other hand, and then they started to walk towards the Eiffel Tower.
Her mind raced with ideas. They would have a wedding to plan, and she would have to tell her family at some point. Since they were going to video call later that day (early in the morning for her family, but that was all right since they were all early birds), she had a feeling the ring would be a hot topic of discussion.
“Would it be all right with you if you were on call with my family and I tonight?” She looked up at Marc. “I have a feeling...”
“I would love to,” he said without hesitation. “The ring will be the topic of conversation, right?”
“Probably...” She laughed.
With Marc at her side, she was ready to face anything, regardless of how well she spoke French, English, or any other language.
Sarah Kinsey loves all things romance, her two cats, Derby and Charlie, and field hockey...though not necessarily in that order. She works as a librarian when she’s not penning novels, so she can be surrounded by books at all times.
I HOPE YOU ENJOYED this book!
If so, please consider leaving a review here:
https://justromancereads.com/contemp3
And, please enjoy an excerpt from my book: A Place to Call Home
You can get the complete book here: https://justromancereads.com/contemp1
CHAPTER ONE
It rained heavily that afternoon as Charity tried to maneuver her way down South Houston Ave. It was her first time in Texas and the deluge kept her from exploring. She turned on the car’s heater as her skin started to chill and she turned down the radio. A part of her felt fatigued, like she had been on a journey for days when in the reality she had spent about two hours and thirty minutes on the flight from Indiana to Houston, Texas. Even her bones felt tired and her eyelids threatened to close. What bothered her most though, was the rain.
She followed the direction of her Google map judiciously and made the right turn where it was noted. This was it; a whole new world awaited her. One she knew absolutely nothing about. She hadn't wanted to know for a long time. Her life in Indiana was what she was used to and she had maintained that peace until....
Joey’s death was still a shock to her and she reeled from the aftermath when his lawyers had contacted her with his will. Somehow he had located her biological parents and it turned out they lived here, in Katy, Texas.
Katy’s Tradition
According to the lawyer, Rebecca Jean lived here with her husband and ran the town's only famous restaurant called Katy's Tradition. Charity longed to see what Rebecca looked like. Aside from the pictures the private investigator Joey hired had come up with, she wanted to see what her bio mom looked like in person, to look her in the eye, and ask why she had been abandoned at a hospital when she was born. What kind of a mother gave her child away? Not looking back, or even searching for her.
Charity was a month pregnant when the incident happened. She was once again alone in the world, just like she had been before Joey. Growing up in an orphanage was something she didn’t wish on anyone. There had been a lot of other kids just like her, waiting for someone to love them. She had been thirteen when she had escaped from the home where they stayed.
She took a turn and drove into the gas station to fill up. The rain had reduced to droplets now and she was able to step out of the car and get gas. When she was done, she drove down the road into the main town. As far as she could tell she wouldn’t have much trouble finding the place, restaurant, or whatever it was. Katy was a small town.
The family that had taken her in at age thirteen hadn’t done much in terms of bringing up a child. The woman had cared for her but there had been a limit to what she could do, so Charity had saved up a little money and one morning had taken a bus to the nearest town, Carmel. All her life she had been a drifter until she had met Joey.
It took ten minutes to drive through Katy until she approached a T-junction and took the right turn. Katy's Tradition was not at all what she expected it to be.
The building was what she would call more of an antique; it looked old. From the recent rain, the front lot was covered in puddles and she could barely see a soul as she out of the car and walked to the entrance.
The sign read closed.
She knocked a few times and waited for someone, anyone, to
open up. She didn't know what to expect so she turned and snuggled deeper into her jacket for warmth and started to walk back to her car.
She might just have to wait until someone showed up eventually.
She almost closed her car door when someone stepped out of the restaurant. She rushed out of the car and walked towards him.
“Excuse me,” she called, as he locked the door with a key, and he turned to her.
"I'm looking for Rebecca Jean," she said and brought out the picture of the woman she had carefully tucked into her pocket.
The man frowned at her, ignoring her question as he started to walk across the street to a truck parked at the other end. "You're not a local," he said, noticing her white Nissan parked just behind his.
“No, I’m not” she agreed, and followed him, hoping he could give her information on where she could find Rebecca.
The man was tall, with short auburn brown hair that fell across his face and framed it perfectly. He had the build of an athlete or some sort of physical fitness trainer. She cocked a brow, folding her arms across her chest, not minding that his eyes moved down her body, landing on her protruding abdomen and then back on her face.
“If you are looking for Rebecca, I’m afraid you won’t be seeing her now, or ever again.”
“Why, what are you talking about?” she asked him, her eyes wide as a familiar sense of dread filled her.
"Rebecca Jean is dead," he said
Her face paled and her palms became sweaty all of a sudden as goosebumps appeared on her arms. She hugged herself and frowned.
“Dead? She’s dead?” she asked, and he opened the door to his truck.
"She passed away the early hours of this morning, gave in to cancer just like her husband a few years back," he said, and got in his truck. “Good luck lady, I’m sorry I can’t help you." He started his engine and drove away, leaving a trail of exhaust behind him.
She stood rooted to the ground and stared after the truck, her mind still reeling from the news she had just received.
Her birth mother was dead
So much for finding a family...she was too late. Maybe a few hours earlier and she might have been able to meet her in person. She had more questions now than ever. If Rebecca was dead, and so was her husband Peter, then who was the young man she had just spoken to? She remembered something about Rebecca having a son, an adopted son.
Bobby Ray Jean
That had to be the name; she rushed to her car and searched through her bag for a picture of the boy. She came up with a picture of a young boy with a bright smile. She was going to wait here for Bobby Ray Jean to get the answers she came for.
