“They’re the boats Vincent drew and painted here. And of course, now all I want to do is draw and paint them too. They are irresistible!”
“I hear you. When we get to Martigues, you will see a lot of them. Let’s pick up some food supplies, and then you can choose your perfect spot to work on some sketches.”
A friendly greengrocer was only too happy to hand over fresh bunches of herbs, greens, and vegetables as he and Jacques bantered back and forth. Some plump tomatoes that smelled divine and juicy lemons the shopkeeper said had just come from his own tree completed the purchases. Arianna took charge of the wicker pannier, carefully arranging everything as it was handed to her.
Jacques and Arianna bantered comfortably, planning the dinner menu.
They decided to make a simple green salad with sliced tomatoes and saucisson on the side. Jacques had a selection of cheeses in his fridge. There was still one baguette left and the rest of the fruit from lunch.
“How’s this for a plan? Tonight we will anchor in a small bay a little farther away. Tomorrow morning we’ll rise at daybreak, unless you object, and we can watch the fishing boats come in. Then we’ll buy fresh fish at the port after they set them up on ice on their stands. That’s an experience in itself,” Jacques promised her.
Arianna could not stop grinning. “I like it!” Inside, she realized she liked even more that someone was making plans that revolved around her.
“How about dinner at sunset? Does that appeal?” Jacques asked. “That gives you some time to sketch here. You’re welcome to root through all my art supplies and use what you like. Then we will motor down to drop anchor in the next bay. I want to see your face tomorrow morning when you come on deck there.”
Arianna felt spoiled by the way Jacques was planning surprises for her.
As she organized the food in the galley, Jacques disappeared into his storage room. He reappeared with a folded stool like the ones she had used at the Mas des Artistes and a large sketch pad. “Voilà! Here you go! Find your spot and sketch away while the light is good. Is an hour enough time? Just say the word if you want more.”
Arianna impulsively hugged him, then stepped back quickly, feeling embarrassed. “An hour will be just fine!”
She settled on a raised spot at the end of the dock, facing out to the open waters of the Mediterranean. Her challenge was deciding just what her focus should be. The setting was splendidly nautical.
The protected cove shimmered in the late-afternoon sun as the distinctive wooden boats rocked gently on their moorings. Nets, rods, ropes, pails, and endless lines wrapped around wooden spools were organized in the boats for the nightly foray, each offering its own point of interest.
Arianna lost herself in her sketchbook, content and oblivious to past concerns.
They motored back out to sea just as dusk began to fall. After sailing for a while longer, Jacques trimmed the sails, and they hove to in one spot.
As the sun began to sink lower in the sky, Arianna and Jacques worked together in the galley. There was comfort in the intimacy of that narrow space. Their hands occasionally brushed, and more than once they laughed as they narrowly avoided full-on collisions with each other.
Dinner was a simple matter. Arianna prepared the vinaigrette for the salad using the recipe her family loved. She hoped Jacques would like it too and tried not to feel stressed about making a French dressing for a French man.
They brought the plates up to the table where they had eaten lunch. Jacques asked Arianna to turn on some music, and she chose a light jazz mix to play in the background.
They sat side by side, sipping wine, watching the symphony in the sky, and talking quietly, revealing thoughts and feelings about the past and present.
It was the first time that Jacques shared with her some of his struggles after Giselle was killed. Arianna recognized many of the same emotional challenges she had felt with Ben’s illness.
From time to time, they reached for each other’s hands to offer comfort. To give support.
The sunset they saw the evening before had been the best Arianna had ever experienced. Until this night.
As they sat outside, surrounded by gently moving waves, the shore a distant outline, the drama of the sun slipping below the horizon was magnified exponentially. Arianna watched raptly as day changed to twilight, and then dusk. Once the sun melted into the sea, the sky was awash in a rainbow of color.
Suddenly she felt her face wet with tears. Jacques became aware of her brushing them away and put his arm around her shoulder.
“Arianna, I’m hoping those aren’t tears of sadness.”
She leaned lightly into him.
“Not sadness, exactly . . . but it feels like some sort of letting go. I’m not certain why these tears are here. I don’t think I’m crying. The tears are just happening, and I can’t stop them. But they are a mix of happiness, sadness, relief, hope . . .” She wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. “Maybe it’s a letting go of what’s been holding me back. I felt them coming and knew I had to let it happen. This sunset was intoxicating. The beauty, the color, the movement . . . It was so emotional . . .”
As brilliantly as the sunset ended the day, the stars began to illuminate the sky. Suddenly the entire sky was flooded with tiny sparkling lights. “And now this celestial display is continuing to remind me of nature’s beauty and power.”
“I never take it for granted,” Jacques said, kissing her hand lightly. Arianna was surprised by the simple, affectionate gesture that seemed so natural.
“It’s a different sky than van Gogh’s, isn’t it? I went and sat by the Rhône one evening to try and experience what he had painted.”
“And what did you feel? Did you see the same starry night on the Rhône as he did?”
“I felt incredibly emotional . . . and sad for his madness. I really bought into the spirit of Vincent in Arles. Does it make any sense to say that I wanted to?”
Jacques nodded. “Totally. How can you ignore it? And why should you?”
Arianna turned to face him. “I have something to confess. Something I have not admitted to you.”
His expression froze in a worried frown.
“I hope you will understand,” she continued. “It’s a little embarrassing, but I’m a possessed fan of Vincent. If he were alive, I’d be a groupie. I’ve been like this since I was very young, and spending time in Arles has brought my feelings for his work to the surface again. I couldn’t get enough of his ghost while I was there. It consumed me.”
Jacques threw his head back and laughed a full belly laugh. “A van Gogh groupie! I love it! You had me worried for a moment. I had no idea what you were about to confess.”
For the next while, they spoke passionately about the artist and their feelings concerning his life and their many favorites of his paintings and drawings. It was a completely unexpected, spontaneous conversation that filled Arianna with elation as she appreciated the deep connection between them about art.
Eventually, Jacques started the motor and headed for the next cove. Within an hour, they had joined a few other boats anchored in the same area.
“Jacques, thanks for another amazing day. I think I’ll fall into bed now. All of this fresh air is more than I can handle.”
“Bonne nuit. It’s been fun. I’m glad you decided to come on the boat. Let me know if you need anything.”
They bised. The simple French gesture was so familiar, and yet now felt quite intimate. As Arianna went down to her room, she felt something like a flutter deep inside her. Was that my heart or was it my spirit feeling the freedom to soar?
She was surprised that the bed on the boat was so comfortable. It wasn’t a luxury boutique hotel, but it was more than acceptable. The pillows were plump and downy, the mattress firm, and there was a soft, warm blanket to keep away the nighttime chill.
The soft lapping of water on the hull and the rhythmic clanking of halyards on the mast were relaxing. Content, she looked forward to sp
eaking with Faith and Sophia the next day. But she felt no urgency.
It was important, of course, that they know she was fine and enjoying her last few days in France. She wanted to hear that Ben continued in good care too. But she knew he was. And she was grateful for that.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Jacques tapped lightly on her door.
Arianna stretched sleepily and took in her surroundings. A smile slowly began in her eyes, then moved down to her mouth.
“I’m awake,” she called out. “Be up in a few minutes.”
“The sun will soon be rising. I’d ask it to wait for you, but it has a mind of its own. Just wrap a blanket around you; it’s not a formal occasion.”
She grinned as she quickly slipped into the compact head of the boat and splashed water on her face and brushed her teeth. She gave her hair a quick rake with her fingers before she grabbed the blanket from the bed and went into the galley. The smell of fresh coffee filled the cabin.
“Mmmm, perfect!” she murmured as he handed her a mug. “Thank you.”
“Bonjour! How did you sleep?” He leaned in and they bised as if they had been doing this each morning for a long time.
He took her hand and led her above deck. The morning air had a touch of crisp coolness to it, and she pulled the blanket more tightly around her. Jacques slipped his arm around her shoulder, holding the blanket in place as they stood together. Arianna realized she liked how natural it felt.
“Regarde. Watch,” he whispered.
To the east, a long band of pinkish blue was layered above a brilliant band of gold across the horizon. The silvery grayness of dawn hung above them. Slowly, golden rays broke up the colors, spreading them into the sky as a fiery ball of brilliant light began to rise. The dark-blue night water of the Mediterranean turned into lighter shades of azure as the sunlight unfurled.
“It’s a reverse sunset,” Arianna said softly.
Jacques gave her shoulder a light squeeze and pulled her gently closer to him. “I thought you would like it.”
Arianna stayed in that comfortable position and looked around.
With the increasing light, she suddenly became aware of the setting in which they were anchored. They were just inside the mouth of a small turquoise bay, and all around it, craggy limestone cliffs tumbled down to the water. A few scraggly pine trees clung stubbornly to the cliffsides. Fishing boats were docked nearby, and Arianna could see men in rubber overalls unloading their catches to the market stands on shore.
“This is a paradise.”
“Ah, this is just the beginning,” he said. “But we’ll get some fish here and fresh croissants and baguette hot from the woodstove. It’s too shallow to take the boat in, so I blew up the dinghy.”
“You blew up the dinghy? When? How?”
He laughed. “Like everything else in my life these days, very easily. I stow it in the storage area until I need to put it in the water. An electric pump fills it with air on the deck in minutes. I did it before I woke you up.”
Arianna nodded. “Should we go now?”
“Let’s savor our coffee before we do,” Jacques suggested.
They sat where the sunshine had begun to reach the boat, coffee in hand. As they chatted, Arianna could not stop admiring every detail of his rugged features whenever he looked away. What pleased her even more was the sensitive, thoughtful side of him she was getting to know. Their eyes met, and then they both laughed.
“We’re like two kids playing hooky,” Arianna said.
“Well, today is your day of decision. We can turn around and go back to Port-Saint-Louis and then I can drive you to your car. Or we can take our time and continue on to Marseille in time for your flight on Saturday; we could sail around for four more days and then dock in Marseille Friday night.”
Arianna was silent and peered out across the water. As much as her heart was leaping, it was also aching. She felt this was a pivotal moment that was hers and hers alone. Her decision would be bittersweet one way or the other.
Jacques remained quiet until she turned her eyes back to him. Then he said, “I need to be back at the manade on Sunday and will be busy all that week as we have a big feria in Arles the next weekend. You should stay and see it . . . not that I’m trying to tempt you.”
Raising her eyebrows, she smiled at him. “You’ve been very successful at tempting me so far! I’ll just have to come back another year.”
This time he said nothing. Minutes passed in silence.
Arianna closed her eyes and blew out a long breath before she spoke softly but firmly.
“Okay, I’ve decided. I’m going to stay with you this week. Being on the boat is a wonderful experience. It’s so peaceful, calm, beautiful. And it’s a complete change from my life at home. I think I need this.”
The look on Jacques’s face registered his happiness. “I think I need this too. I have work I need to tend to in Marseille, but it can wait. So we are helping each other. It’s too early for you to call Canada, but you can use the satellite phone later today. I checked to make certain it’s working.”
The dingy, popular Bar du Port was already open and bustling with boisterous fishermen throwing back a morning pastis or sharing a bottle of rosé. It appeared this was a regular stop on their way home after a night out on the sea.
The exposed wood beams and rough stone walls, combined with the worn, dark oak of the long bar, chairs, and tables, made Arianna feel like this room had not changed for centuries. There were ghosts in this room, and she described to Jacques the fantasies it conjured up for her. He agreed.
“That’s one of the things I missed when I was a kid in the States. I’d come over here for the summer with my father, and we would go to all sorts of places just like this. There was always history, intrigue, atmosphere here. I never found that over there.”
Friendly voices bantered back and forth, mixed with loud laughter. Arianna and Jacques lingered over their espressos. They bought two whitefish that were wrapped in a bag packed with ice and had been expertly filleted by the man selling them. Jacques explained they would be fine for an hour or so until they were back on the boat.
Jacques reported on his call about her car. “So I spoke with Monsieur Flaubert, who owns the car rental office in Arles. They have keys for all the cars, and he will get one of his staff to drive the car back to Arles. They will refund you the balance of the week that you paid for, with just one day’s penalty for helping you out.”
“Fantastic,” Arianna said. “That worked out well. Thank you for doing that.”
“And now we can focus on us,” Jacques said. “Two friends who both need to get unstuck from what was the ‘now’ in our lives.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
By midafternoon, the sun was beating down on the boat, and the wind was subsiding. Jacques was determined to reach a certain cove and pumped his fist as their destination came into view.
While he focused on sailing the boat, Arianna read a few chapters of her book, in between chatting with him about the history of the area. She was intrigued by his stories of pirates and smugglers.
She was increasingly aware of how easily they laughed together. Or were quiet together. It all felt right.
He asked if she was ready to call home and showed her how to use the satellite phone. Then he went on deck to give her privacy.
She came up from the cabin with a wide grin. “I spoke briefly with Faith, who thinks it is very cool that I’m sailing for a week with some friends—emphasis on ‘friends,’ plural. Isn’t that ridiculous? The mom fibbing to the daughter! I feel I can’t be honest about it.”
“Arianna, it’s perfectly understandable given the circumstances. I hope you won’t give it another thought for the rest of the week. Just go with the flow, as you North Americans like to say.”
She gave a little laugh that ended with a snort. “Oops, excuse me. At my age, I really should be able to go with the flow!” Then she added, “I also called my mother. Oh my goo
dness, I do sound like a child . . .” She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “It’s morning in Toronto, and this is my eighty-five-year-old mother’s time with her bridge group. She plays every weekday. Isn’t that great? Anyway, she didn’t pick up, so I left her a message to call Faith. Then I also left a voice mail for my daughter-in-law. So everyone is taken care of.”
An audible sigh of relief escaped Arianna’s lips, and they both laughed.
“Now I can truly relax,” she said.
The location they reached was similar to where they had spent the previous night, but the bay was deeper, and sailboats could anchor well into the protected waters.
The cliffs were higher, and the water even more turquoise. Arianna could not stop exclaiming over the beauty.
“The water will be inviting here too,” Jacques said. “Well, let me clarify that. It’s all relative. The water will still be cool because it is early in the season, but it will be refreshing. Because it’s so protected here, it will be warmer than the water you felt this morning when we were in the dinghy. I’m going for a swim. Want to join me?”
Arianna’s stomach knotted. She felt her cheeks flushing and ran her fingers nervously through her hair. “Being seen in public in a bathing suit is not my favorite thing to do,” she told him. “It’s part of that aging thing. But, please, you go ahead.”
Jacques stared at her firmly and took her chin in his hand, gazing deeply into her eyes. “Arianna, you are a most attractive woman. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your figure. You have nothing to hide.”
Blushing, she looked away for a moment. “You are too sweet. Really. But this is a female thing, and you have to let me come to terms with it. That’s all there is to it.”
“D’accord! I hear you, and I understand. You just sit here and let the sun beat down on you for a while. Once you see me floating around in that cool, clear sea, you will be jumping in to join me in no time. That’s my prediction.”
She laughed and told him he might be right.
Drawing Lessons Page 30