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Table of Contents
Cover
Synopsis
Title Page
Copyright Page
Other Books by Genevieve Fortin
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Epilogue
Bella Books
Synopsis
As an engineering geologist, Anais (Ana) Bloom is thrilled when she arrives in Sainte-Luce-Sur-Mer to study the effects of climate changes and rising sea levels on the shoreline of the Saint-Laurent River. Soon after she settles in at the quaint White Sheep Inn, she develops a friendship with the innkeeper and her canine companion. The innkeeper’s granddaughter, however, is a whole other story. Melodie is attractive, perhaps, but she’s also impulsive, has a bad attitude, and doesn’t share an ounce of her grandmother’s hospitality.
Melodie Beaulieu has never planned to follow in her grandmother’s footsteps and become an innkeeper. The only thing she’s wanted all her life is to live by the sea, in her hometown. When Ana Bloom comes to the White Sheep Inn and threatens her entire way of living, she simply won’t have it. She despises the scientist and her big theories and chooses to ignore her good looks and that damn red, unruly hair of hers.
Ana and Melodie would gladly keep staying out of each other’s way, but Mother Nature has other plans. Trapped inside the inn when a strong storm surge hits the beach community, they’re forced to come together to face the terrifying event and its aftermath. Can they rise above their conflicting beliefs and let their attraction take the lead?
Copyright © 2019 by Genevieve Fortin
Bella Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 10543
Tallahassee, FL 32302
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
First Bella Books Edition 2019
eBook released 2019
Editor: Ann Roberts
Cover Designer: Judith Fellows
ISBN: 978-1-64247-020-8
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
Other Bella Books by Genevieve Fortin
Dingo’s Recovery
First Fall
Two Kinds of Elizabeth
Water’s Edge
Acknowledgments
Some novels start with a character or a location. This novel was built around a conflict: a scientist who believes the best way to deal with rising sea levels is to relocate away from coastlines, and an innkeeper who can’t imagine living anywhere else. I can’t remember how exactly that idea came to mind but I am grateful it did because it changed my life. I’ve always believed in climate change, of course, and I’ve always been concerned. The research I did to write this novel, however, brought me to a new level of awareness I might not have reached without it. It changed the way I plan to live my life moving forward. That said, Rising Above is about love before anything else. Love between two women, but also love for the sea.
I’d like to thank Linda, Jessica, and the entire Bella Books team for letting me tell the stories I want to tell. My editor Ann Roberts, who helped me dig deeper into Ana’s character and make this book so much better. I feel fortunate I had the privilege to learn from an author I admire. Denise who, like Melodie, might have saltwater running through her veins. I wouldn’t be surprised. Loving her brings me closer to the sea and I am grateful for that. And as always, I’d like to thank every reader who picked this book or any of my books. They wouldn’t be the same without you.
About the Author
Genevieve is French Canadian but claims her heart holds dual citizenship. Not surprising since she lived in the USA for thirteen years and still visits every chance she gets. Besides writing and reading, her passions include traveling, decadent desserts, fruity martinis, and watching HGTV. For now she lives in St-Georges, just a few miles north of the border between Maine and Quebec. She and her partner share a house with their two dogs, Spike and Betty.
Dedication
To all of us who love the sea and understand
she needs her space…
Chapter One
Present
Ana enjoyed the sound of the hard snow crunching under her winter boots as she walked closer to the Saint-Laurent River. It had to be this cold for the snow to make that sound. Cold enough for her nostrils to stick together and for her breath to hang in the air like a fog. She took her gloves off, placed them in her jacket pockets, and reached for her camera in her backpack. She simply had to take a few shots of the scene before her. Snow and ice rippled over the sea, as if the waves had frozen into place. The white of the snow met with a brighter, thin white horizon before it faded into a light gray tinted sky.
The monochrome December panorama was breathtaking—quite literally. She took a deep breath that burned her lungs. She immortalized the view with a few simple clicks and then shot a brief video, wanting to capture the sound of the wind, but mostly the silence of the sea. That silence was almost troubling. No waves soothing her mind with their regular rhythm or crashing on the large, flat rocks that covered part of the beach. This place and moment gave her a new understanding of an expression she’d never stopped to think about before: the dead of the winter. It made more sense now as she looked around her. The perfect, peaceful dead of winter.
Ana’s bare hands were so cold that it felt like tiny needles pushing into her fingertips. The good news was that the great tides expected in the next few days wouldn’t cause damage, she reasoned as she blew warm air into her cupped hands. At twenty-five be
low zero degrees Fahrenheit, she could hear deniers snicker in her mind. So much for global warming, huh, fancy scientist? Damn deniers. Their refusal to acknowledge the difference between weather events and long-term climate trends was mind-blowing. And dangerous. Idiots, she thought as she dismissively shook her head. She wouldn’t let her mind clutter with her usual preoccupations. Not now. Not when she’d finally made her way back to Sainte-Luce-Sur-Mer.
She turned around and took a picture of the small hotel she was so happy to see again before she placed the camera safely in her backpack and put her gloves back on. She stared at the charming inn, its white walls, wraparound porch and its mansard flared roof. She was glad they’d been able to repaint the exterior as planned. She hesitated before she walked toward the front of the property where she’d parked her electric car. She grabbed her luggage out of the trunk, took another deep breath, and rolled her suitcase toward the hotel. She paused at the bottom of the stairs and smiled at the large wooden sign bearing the logo of the hotel: an illustrated sheep running on water with the words Auberge du Mouton Blanc forming a half circle over its head. The White Sheep Inn. The place where she wanted to be more than anywhere else in the world. And the place she most feared entering at the same time.
She recognized the annoying bell announcing her arrival. When she opened the door, she immediately saw her. Melodie. Standing behind the reception desk with her back to her, she was using the counter that lined up the wall to fold towels. “Une minute,” she said in French without turning around.
Ana took off her gloves and let go of her luggage when she saw Miller run to her. She crouched down to pet the Cardigan Welsh Corgi. He’d gained some weight. She’d never doubted the dog would recognize her and would be happy to see her again. She’d been right, judging by his wagging tail and wet tongue on her hand. Miller was the easy part of this reunion.
She straightened up and smiled at Thomas, who stood proudly in a small playpen behind the reception desk. Her heart clenched at the sight of the toddler. He’d grown so much. He could stand on his own now. He could probably walk, she imagined, which explained the playpen filled with toys that kept him from wandering. His dark hair was even thicker than it had been, but it was just as unruly. His eyes had remained blue, almost as light as his mother’s. He waved at her and laughed a loud, beautiful, contagious laugh. She felt her smile widen even as she fought tears. She’d missed so much. Too much. She waved back at him, wondering if he’d recognized her or if he was this friendly with all strangers. Ana had not realized she’d moved closer as she’d focused on Thomas, but she was practically leaning over the reception desk when Melodie finally turned around and saw her.
In the mere few seconds that followed, Ana saw three distinct expressions on Melodie’s face. The first was pure shock as her Arctic blue eyes opened wide and she gasped. The second was so brief Ana wasn’t sure she hadn’t imagined it, but she thought she’d seen a moment of joy, or at least relief, pass through soft eyes and a twitch of her full lips that resembled a smile. The third expression was the easiest to recognize. It settled in Melodie’s clenched teeth and the way she squinted at her before she spoke with undisguised anger. “Anais Bloom. What the hell are you doing here?”
Chapter Two
One year earlier
“Please be quiet,” Melodie Beaulieu whispered to her six-month-old son as she paced behind the reception desk, lightly bouncing him up and down and patting his bottom. Nothing worked. His diaper was dry, she’d fed him, and she’d been holding him for half an hour. Thomas should have been perfectly content, but he was still screaming to the top of his tiny lungs. The dark wood planks of the floor squeaked under each of her steps, accompanying her son’s cries.
The young couple checking out of the inn kept glancing at her, although she was doing all she could to disappear against the back wall while her grandmother, Yvonne, handled the customers. She tried to focus on the floral pattern of the wallpaper behind the couple to avoid their scrutiny but wasn’t successful. She smiled and mouthed the word “sorry.” The woman smiled at her sympathetically, but the man cringed when Thomas hit a particularly high note. He even shook his head when he finally grabbed their luggage and left the lobby.
“I’m so sorry,” Melodie said to her grandmother, who was already taking Thomas out of her arms.
“Let me try.”
Thomas almost instantly stopped crying when Yvonne did the exact same reassuring bouncing and patting she’d been doing to no avail. She wanted to cry with frustration but took a deep breath instead. Thomas closed his eyes.
“Now why wouldn’t he do this for me?”
“Because you’re way too anxious, dear. You panicked and managed to stress out everyone around you, but most of all this little angel,” she explained as she lay him in the small bassinet they’d placed behind the reception desk. Melodie had to admit Yvonne was right about her anxiety level. She freaked out every time Thomas made any noise in the presence of customers. She couldn’t help but smile at her grandmother’s contrasting calm and assurance.
Yvonne had always been her role model—strong, independent, business savvy, but also tender and caring. At seventy-four, Yvonne didn’t look a day over fifty, and the only reason why she was finally talking about retirement was that she’d recently been diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease.
That information had not registered in Melodie’s brain yet. Yvonne stood tall and straight, with her perfectly shaped, short blond bob and her piercing blue eyes. If Melodie hadn’t witnessed an occasional tremor in her right hand, she wouldn’t believe her grandmother was sick.
“I told you I didn’t mind keeping Thomas with us for now because it’s slow, but you do realize you’ll have to figure out something before business picks up, right?”
Yvonne usually closed the White Sheep Inn during winter, as did most establishments in Sainte-Luce-Sur-Mer. It didn’t make sense to keep hotels open in the cold months when tourists deserted their little beach community. This winter, however, she’d decided the off-season would be the perfect opportunity to teach Melodie how to manage the small family business. Since they’d started Melodie’s training in November, they’d never had more than two of their eight available rooms occupied at a time. A month later Melodie was getting used to the daily tasks of an innkeeper, but she still couldn’t imagine handling them with a full house. She was grateful her grandmother had decided to entrust her with the White Sheep Inn, but she was terrified she’d fail the woman she most loved and respected. The anxiety that had temporarily loosened its grip on her when Thomas had fallen asleep was back in full force. “I know, Mammie. I simply can’t afford daycare right now.”
Melodie and Thomas were staying in the hotel during her training. The off-season was a good time to learn how to manage a hotel, but by definition it was not a lucrative period. Yvonne had graciously offered to lodge and feed them so Melodie could quit her job as a server at Normandin’s Restaurant and focus on her new career as an innkeeper, but she couldn’t ask her grandmother to pay for daycare as well.
“What about Kevin? Can’t he help?”
Melodie scoffed. “All Kevin cares about are his dirt bikes and drinking beer with his buds. You know that. Besides, he’s going back out west after the holidays.”
Yvonne sighed heavily and folded towels that sat in a laundry basket under the desk. Melodie hurried to help her. She should have folded them earlier. When would she start anticipating every task instead of simply following her grandmother’s lead? Yvonne hadn’t said another word, but her movements were more abrupt than usual and Melodie could feel her exasperation.
“Please say what’s on your mind.” When Yvonne didn’t reply, Melodie continued. “Okay then, I’ll do it for you. Didn’t I know Kevin was a selfish prick before I slept with him? Yes, I did. I don’t know what I saw in him or why I did what I did, but it’s done. I have Thomas now. Do you really think I planned on raising a baby as a single mother at thirty?” She folded the towels w
ith the same energy as Yvonne, both women beating them into submission. Yvonne folded the last one before she turned to Melodie and took that calm but assertive tone that made Melodie feel like a little child.
“No, that’s not what I think at all. I don’t think you’ve ever planned anything in your life, dear. If you really want to know what I was thinking, there you have it. And I was also wondering if I shouldn’t have let you move to Montreal with Nicole instead of helping your dad raise you. I love my son to death, but we both know he wasn’t what you needed at that age.”
Melodie was fourteen when her parents divorced, and her mother moved to Montreal to focus on a career in marketing. She felt her eyes fill with tears. Her grandmother knew better than to bring up her mother in a conversation. In any conversation. She finally found the nerve to answer, but her voice was barely audible when she did. “Where is this coming from? You know I wanted to stay here with dad.”
“I know, but you were too young to know what was best for you.” Yvonne took a deep breath that seemed to calm her. She took Melodie’s hands and when she spoke again, her tone was much softer. “You know I love Thomas, right?” She nodded. “I’m not saying I’m not happy we have him. Far from it. But I can’t help wondering lately if Montreal might have been a better place for you. It’s a big city. Perhaps you could have met someone special.”
Melodie squeezed her grandmother’s hands as she finally understood what this outburst was really about. “A woman? You think it would have been easier for me to meet a nice woman and fall in love if I’d lived in Montreal?”
“Well, don’t you?”
“Maybe. But I would’ve been miserable. You know that, Mammie. My place is here, by the sea. And there are lesbians around here, you know.” Melodie laughed and was relieved when Yvonne joined in. “I just suck at picking them. Men, women, it doesn’t matter. I’m no good at love. And it’s not because I didn’t have good role models. I had the best. You and Pappy. You always looked so happy.”
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