Barbara McMahon - French Escape

Parking his car in the graveled lot, he grabbed his gear—including the trash from lunch which he had packed out—and headed for his room. There were three women sitting in the shade of the veranda. In the middle, Jeanne-Marie. Laughter filled the air when the ladies raised their glasses in some kind of toast. Taking a sip, Jeanne-Marie spotted him.

She spoke softly and the other two women turned to watch him walk toward the wide-open French doors. Then he spotted four children playing in the doorway, Alexandre with his cars, another little boy wearing glasses and two girls—obviously twins. A domestic scene he’d once had at his own home.

“I see you made it through another day climbing,” Jeanne-Marie said. He nodded and headed inside. Halfway up the stairs he heard Alexandre following him. Turning, he looked as the little boy raced up the stairs to join him.

“Can I go with you?” he asked, tilting his back so far Matt was afraid the boy might lose his balance and tumble down the stairs.

“I’m going to shower and change.”

“When you go climbing. Can I go with you? I want to learn.”

“That’s something your mother has to decide.”

“I’m big.”

Matt nodded gravely. “I can see that.”

“She can’t take me. She doesn’t know how. But you could.”

Matt started to turn away, but the pleading look in those warm brown eyes held him. So different from Etienne’s bright blue eyes, yet the same trust and faith in adults. He didn’t know this child or the mother. But he could recognize yearning. “We’ll ask your mother later.” He expected Jeanne-Marie would refuse, so that let him off the hook.

“Okay. Do you want to go swimming with me now?” Alexandre asked. “You can change and then you can come play with me in the sand. Mama won’t let me go out on the beach by myself. I need a grown-up. I want to play by the water.”

“Your mother knows best,” Matt said. The little boy looked so earnest. He resumed walking up the stairs.

“She would let me go with a grown-up. Can you be the grown-up? Please?”

Matt hesitated. Children required so little to make their worlds happy. What would Etienne have done had the situation been reversed and Matt had lost his life, leaving his son behind? Who would have spared some time for his son?

“I’ll be good and not go into the water unless you tell me I can,” Alexandre said, running up three more steps.

Matt looked at the beseeching face and considered the possibility. He’d want someone to be there for his son. A swim in the sea sounded good. He could shower afterward.

“I’ll take a quick swim and then if it’s okay with your mother, you can come on the sand with me,” he said.

Alexandre beamed his smile and raced down the stairs to go ask his mother.

Matt continued to his room wondering if he were losing it. He was here to forget the constant pain; now he was subjecting himself to more? Seeing Alexandre play on the sand would remind him of Etienne. Yet, oddly enough, the ache he normally felt when thinking of his son was not as strong. He was convinced Etienne was in a better place. Another man’s son needed some attention. How odd Alexandre had chosen him.

Matt entered his room and quickly exchanged climbing clothes for swimming attire, pulled on a T-shirt and grabbed one of the large fluffy bath towels from the rack before heading back outside. He could hear the women as he descended the stairs but they hadn’t heard his bare feet on the wooden steps.

“Honestly, Jeanne-Marie, if you don’t explore possibilities, I’ll disown you.”

“He’s just a guest.” Matt recognized his hostess’s voice.

“If he’s taking Alexandre for a swim, I’d say he was looking to make points,” the second woman said.

“No, he’s only a guest being polite. You know I don’t socialize with my guests,” Jeanne-Marie protested.

He continued walking closer, unabashedly eavesdropping. So she didn’t socialize with her guests. He wondered why. Some might demand more, like dinner in the evening, he thought. Seems as if he had been lucky she’d spent time with him last evening, even though her son was there as well.

Sidestepping around the children, Matt walked out to the veranda. Alexandre spotted him immediately and rushed over. “Mama says I’m not to bother you. I won’t be a bother, will I?”

“No. I would not have agreed if I hadn’t meant it,” he told Jeanne-Marie. Glancing at the other two women, he saw them look first at him and then at their friend, smiles showing.

Feeling like he was on some kind of stage, he walked out to the sand and to the water’s edge. He wished he’d heard more about Jeanne-Marie. What was she to do lest her friend disown her?

He pulled off the T-shirt, dropping it and his towel near the water, and plunged into the sea, trying to drive away the thoughts that were coming to mind. He had been happily married. Then torn by tragedy. Less involvement in everything would keep further pain at bay. He went to work, avoiding the long evening walks in the vineyards that reminded him of the times Marabelle and Etienne had accompanied him.

He dutifully checked in with his aunt and uncle and cousins. More to keep them from driving over to check in on him than because he wanted to keep in contact. It was easier to cocoon himself in work and ignore the rest. He would not willingly give his heart as hostage to fate again.

The water was cool and buoyant. He swam some distance from the shore. When he paused to tread water, he studied the village from his vantage point. Fishing boats bobbed in the marina to his far right. There were several establishments that had patios dotted with tables facing the sea, with tourists enjoying the afternoon sun.

It was good to swim after the climb. Later he’d eat in the village and see what activities were planned for La Fête de la Victoire de 1945 this weekend. He expected the small village to celebrate in a big way. Not that he planned to celebrate. He remembered—then banished the memory from his mind. He would not think of other fetes and how he and his family had celebrated. The year before last had been the worst. The first of every holiday without Marabelle and Etienne had been the hardest, at least that’s what everyone told him when he’d growled like a bear in pain if anyone in the family wished him happy. He felt all holidays proved hard now.

Refreshed by his swim, Matt headed for the shore. He had no sooner stepped from the water than Alexandre raced across the sand to join him. Toweling off, he was touched by the child’s trust and desire to spend time with him. His cousin candidly told him he was a bear to be around.

If anyone had told him a week ago that he’d be entertained by a small boy at the side of the sea, he’d have called the person crazy. But sitting beside Alexandre listening to him talk was as enjoyable as anything he’d done lately. The child didn’t need encouragement; his running monologue continued with only an occasional hmm from Matt.

The self-imposed exile from all things familiar meant he had more time to think than he normally had. Spending time with Alexandre kept thoughts away—except about the child’s mother. He looked back, but the women were gone from the veranda. It surprised him she trusted a stranger with her son. Then she stepped out and looked toward them, waving once. So she was keeping an eye on them.

Matt turned back to face the sea. This was a one-off deal. Tomorrow he’d make sure not to return to the inn until too late to be beguiled by a little boy.

“About ready to head back?” Matt asked the boy as the afternoon waned. A quick shower and he’d be back downstairs seeking a good restaurant for dinner.

“Do we have to?” Alexandre asked, looking up at Matt. “This is fun.”