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He’d been committed to her. How lucky was she?
Not only had she married her high-school sweetheart, but they’d remained in love throughout twenty years of marriage. Not many couples could say that nowadays.
They’d been blessed by the arrival of two wonderful children who’d never caused them the anguish that she’d witnessed other families undergoing. Theirs had been a close and happy family unit.
That was why she’d never had a holiday without her family, and they’d shared some amazing experiences, albeit close to home in case Shane should have been called back to work to deal with an emergency. He’d enjoyed spending time with his family, but had never lost sight of his responsibilities. He’d taken them seriously; he’d taken everything seriously, actually, even his health. So it was unfair that, despite all his care, he’d still fallen ill.
She’d tried to make him well, and when it had become clear that he wouldn’t recover she’d done her best to make him happy, or, at the very least, comfortable. She’d tried hard, and he’d appreciated it. Never grumpy, never complaining, he’d thanked her every day for the sacrifices she was making.
Huh. As if she’d cared about what she was missing out on. Nothing had been as important as spending every moment with Shane, nursing him herself rather than hand over the chores to a paid carer.
What would Shane think of her now? She’d abandoned her children with the frivolous goal of learning another language. And what use would it be to her?
Once she left Nice for home, she’d probably never visit France again. Why should she, having got it out of her system?
What was she doing here? Just wasting time and money?
Or was she looking for something? Her own life?
The tears had gradually made their way from her throat to her eyes and one spilled over her lower lid onto the newspaper that Jacques had given her. She stared down at the absorbent paper as it made the teardrop look much worse than it was.
Which was exactly what she was doing.
She had to lighten up. It was three years since Shane had died and most of the time she was fine. It was only on odd occasions that memories set her off. She was incredibly lucky to be in the position she was in. How many women had the opportunity to do exactly what they’d always wanted to do?
Wiping away the remaining tears before they could fall, she remembered something that Jacques had said.
He’d noticed which newspaper she preferred last week.
He’d been watching her, taking notes—not literally, she assumed, but still…She didn’t know whether to be flattered or concerned.
Perhaps she should do as he’d suggested and check his references. But a glance at the smiling Jean-Claude had her shaking her head. That wasn’t necessary. Just the fact that he’d suggested it was enough to tell her he had nothing to hide and, besides, what were they talking about here? A chat, that was all. Not a date.
So, he was observant. That wasn’t a bad thing. He probably noticed stuff about everyone who entered the café. It wouldn’t hurt her to be more aware of her surroundings. She’d been living in the very small world consisting of her immediate family for far too long.
Chapter Two
THE next day, when Leonie arrived back at the apartment at the end of her lessons, she didn’t wait for claustrophobia to hit, but immediately showered and changed her clothes before checking her reflection in the only mirror she had. A small one.
All the local women were well turned out, even when dressed in casual clothes. In comparison, she felt dowdy in her shorts and T-shirt. Sam had tried to convince her to shop for a whole new wardrobe before coming away, but she’d made do with popping to the local chain store and grabbing some basic items. She’d never been one for fashion. There had always been more important things to think about, family things, and no one had ever cared what she wore. As long as she was tidy, she’d figured fashion didn’t matter.
She looked at herself more critically than she ever had before. Maybe she should visit some of the local shops and see what she could come up with? It couldn’t hurt.
At least she was lucky that she hadn’t gained much weight over the years, especially as she hadn’t been skinny to start with. She’d always been a bit hippy and busty. Actually, she had gained quite a few kilos earlier on, but had lost them during the first months of Shane’s illness. Seeing him suffer had turned her right off food, and she’d never really regained her former appetite. So, no, she wasn’t fat, but that didn’t mean her body was in great condition. Far from it.
Her hair was okay, though. Well, her hairdresser had offered to touch up a few grey roots, but she hadn’t seen the point at the time, saying that they weren’t noticeable amongst her blond hair and her natural curls hid them anyway.
She chewed her lip, wishing she’d let the hairdresser work her magic on those roots.
But why? Did she see the point now? Was Jacques the reason for her out-of-character critical scrutiny?
No!
She hoped to see Jacques again, true enough, but only because he was someone to talk to. Someone friendly. So what if she looked her age? He did too.
Hmm, like there was any comparison. Men aged differently from women, and he looked great.
She sighed. If he was superficial enough to object to the way she looked, he wasn’t someone she wanted as a friend. She couldn’t help being over forty, and there was nothing wrong with that anyway.
Leonie pushed open the café door and was rewarded by the sight of Jacques, in another pristine white shirt, his dark suit jacket draped over the back of his chair. He rose to his feet and waved her over.
She sighed with relief. At least there would be no awkwardness such as deciding whether to go up to him or not.
‘Good afternoon, Leonie.’
He pronounced her name ‘Lay-o-nie’, with the emphasis on the first syllable. She was about to correct him, when she changed her mind. It sounded different, and she liked it. Different was good.
‘Hello, Jacques.’
Goodness, he was even more gorgeous than she’d remembered. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea?
But then he grinned, a grin so genuine and boyish it made her heart stand still. And she knew she couldn’t walk away.
He placed a chair next to his and held it for her. She gave him a questioning look. Why would she sit next to him like that?
He shrugged. As if he’d read her mind again, he said, ‘I thought we could read the newspaper at the same time. You can point out anything you have difficulty with and I can help you.’
‘Oh, but you don’t have to—’ She stopped, because it was thoughtful of him. She smiled. ‘Thank you. That’s a nice idea. I appreciate it.’
After she’d settled at the table and Jacques had fetched her a coffee, Leonie took her reading glasses from her bag and slipped them on. Then she watched Jacques reach into his jacket pocket and do the same thing.
Grinning, she said, ‘It’s a drag, isn’t it? A sign of old age creeping up on us.’
‘We have a lot of life in us yet.’
‘Oh, I don’t know about that.’ She shrugged. ‘Maybe you do, but my best years are well and truly gone.’
He frowned. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘It’s a fact. I’ve been married, had my children, now I’ve turned forty and I’m heading towards…’ With a pang, she realised she didn’t know what she was heading towards. ‘Well, grandchildren, I guess.’
He made a scoffing sound. ‘You are not old enough to be a grandmother.’
‘Well, technically I am, but, more to the point, I wouldn’t like either of my kids to have children yet. I hope they’ll get an education and live a little before they settle down to raising a family.’
She sighed, looking away.
‘You miss them?’
‘I do. I miss them so much. Yesterday, I was seriously considering going home. This…’ she waved a hand meant to encompass the café, the city, the course…everything ‘…this is so not me. I’m a mother first and foremost, and I can hardly believe I’ve left my children to fend for themselves while I’m here, pleasing myself.’
She shrugged, then took her phone from her bag, flipped it open and brought a photo of Sam to the screen. ‘This is my daughter, Samantha. She’s the elder of the two.’
He smiled. ‘She is very pretty. She takes after her mother.’
Leonie’s eyes widened, just for an instant, but then she reminded herself that it was the sort of thing people said to be polite. He was right about one thing, though. Sam was very pretty. But she was sweet too.
With a proud smile, she nodded. ‘She’s a lovely girl. She’s studying social work at university. It’s always been her ambition to help people.’
‘You must have raised her well.’
‘Oh, no. It’s all her own doing. Even as a toddler she was like that. At kindergarten she used to get terribly upset if one of the other children fell and scraped a knee. Empathy. That’s her strongest trait.’
It felt so good to talk about her kids. Her fellow students were barely older than Sam and Kyle and had no interest whatsoever in her maternal ramblings. But Jacques didn’t seem bored.
He gave her an encouraging nod as she brought up a picture of Kyle. She turned the phone to face him.
‘He does not look so much like you.’
‘He looks just like his father did at the same age.’
Shane had been just the opposite of Jacques. Taller, and lanky. His limbs had seemed too long for him at school and he’d never really grown into them. Blond, with a serious face. It was the seriousness that had attracted her to him in the first place. He was different from the other boys at school.
Jacques gave her a curious look. ‘You said you had been married? You are no longer…?’
‘I was married to Shane for twenty years. Till he died. Three years ago.’
‘I’m sorry.’
She nodded. ‘He’d been ill for a long time.’ She took a sip of coffee.
After a pause, he said, ‘Three years is not such a long time. You must miss him still.’
‘Oh, I do.’ Yes, she missed Shane, and she always would, but she no longer woke during the night shocked to find he wasn’t there. She hadn’t done that for months now. She’d even taken her wedding ring off, and tucked it away safely in her jewellery box at home. She was getting used to being alone. ‘I do miss having him there to talk to about the kids, and to make plans with. Though, to be honest, we hadn’t really made any plans for a long time.’
She stopped for another sip of coffee.
‘Tell me about your son,’ Jacques said.
This brought a smile to her face again as she looked up, and she guessed that had been his intention.
‘He’s great too, but in a very different way from Samantha. He’s such a boy.’ Then, not sure that Jacques would understand what she meant, she went on. ‘He loves action movies and football and off-road driving with his mates. He drives Sam to distraction. When they were kids he used to torment her with creepy crawlies and the like, but he thinks the world of his sister and wouldn’t let anyone hurt her.’
Physically, at least, she thought. There was nothing Kyle or she could do to stop Sam being hurt by people who took advantage of her soft heart, as they’d discovered already.
Sighing, she lifted her head to look into Jacques’ brown eyes. ‘And what about you? Married? Children?’
He hesitated, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet. After opening it, he gazed at it for a moment before turning it so that Leonie could see two photos. ‘My son. Antoine.’
She leaned forward to get a better look, and saw a boy who obviously had Jacques’ genes. ‘Oh, gosh, he looks just like you.’
And being in his father’s arms made it that much more obvious. But as she had the thought she also registered that he was kind of big to be carried by his father.
Shifting her eyes to the second picture, she saw the reason. In this one, Antoine was on his own, and in a wheelchair.
She looked up. ‘He’s cute. How old is he?’
‘Ten. These photos were taken a year ago.’
She nodded. ‘And the wheelchair?’ She could have ignored it, but that wasn’t in her nature. Her question was straightforward because she wanted to know the answer.
‘Spina bifida. He has no feeling in his legs.’
‘I see.’
‘And to answer your other question…’ Jacques paused, and put his wallet away before continuing ‘…I was married. Antoine’s mother left while he was still very young. We were divorced twelve months later.’
Leonie’s jaw dropped and for a moment she stared at him. ‘She left?’
He nodded. ‘She couldn’t cope.’
‘Couldn’t cope? But surely you could have got help?’
‘Yes, yes.’ He waved a hand. ‘It wasn’t the work involved, it was…’ He paused and cleared his throat. ‘She was a perfectionist. Everything in her life had to be one-hundred-per-cent perfect. In her eyes, Antoine was…defective.’
‘Defective?’ She spluttered the word, then pursed her lips for a moment. ‘Oh, my, I think it was better that she did leave if that was her attitude.’
‘Exactly.’
Leonie blew out a breath. ‘So, is it just you and him now?’
‘We live with my mother and my brother. It wouldn’t be practical for the two of us to live alone. Some aspects of Antoine’s care require more than one pair of hands, especially now that he is growing older and heavier. I couldn’t manage him on my own, and, besides, I have to work.’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘At the risk of sounding…what is the word? Soppy. He is the most important thing in my life.’
‘It’s not soppy. I mean, yes, that’s the right word, but I understand completely. Like I said, I came very close to going home because I miss my two so much.’
‘What stopped you?’
Would he be shocked to hear that he had? Probably, but it was true. Not because she had any silly ideas about him, just because it had done her heaps of good to make a connection, however small, with another human being. It was such a relief to know that she didn’t have to spend her entire stay feeling lonely.
‘I didn’t want to give up on the course.’ That was true too. ‘I might not be very good at it, but I do want to improve. It’s supposed to be a really good course. It uses all the latest audio-visual methods, and language labs and so on, but I just feel left behind.’
He made a sympathetic sound.
‘Maybe it’s an age-related thing. If I was younger, I might be more receptive to it. I studied French at high school and I did quite well there, so I thought I’d be able to pick it up quickly. But that was a long time ago, and I was wrong.’
