Collecting Thoughts

by Irene Davidson

  Chapter eleven

  Shopping with Gabriel was turning out to be fun …which was something of an unexpected surprise for Darcy. Shopping with Patrick had never been anything more than a chore that usually ended with them buying what Patrick chose, but Gabriel, while having definite opinions about everything, invited discussion and Darcy found herself arguing, good-naturedly, about what she wanted.

  Connor’s interest lasted only until they’d decided on the furniture for his bedroom: a high metal bunk bed, double-size so, said Connor, there would be room for him and Napoleon, a bright red sofa that fitted neatly under the bed for lounging on and that could fold out to provide a second double bed for sleepovers, a magnetic memo-board with fun magnets, and storage units for his clothes and games. Then they found wall lamps styled to look like medieval wall sconces and georgette curtains in navy blue, patterned with glow in the dark stars and studded with black fabric bats. Pronouncing it all to be ‘totally wicked’, Connor retreated to the children’s play area to battle it out for supremacy on his new Pokemon game that he’d talked Darcy into buying at Micromania.

  Rosie’s room was next. They chose another metal bed, this one a in a sleigh style, finished white with pretty curlicues along the sides. With the two doors and two windows there was little floor or wall space in Rosie’s room, so they opted for a funky pocketed pink (what else?) wall-hanger that could hang from the ceiling beside her bed for storage, a cute mirror that was hidden behind fanciful gothic-inspired fabric doors, a child-sized white armoire and a delicate chandelier with pastel-coloured pendants. Then Gabriel picked up a small (mainly pink) butterfly-shaped mat and Darcy saw some gorgeous filmy white lace curtains covered with fabric butterflies. They recorded codes for the larger items so they could find them in the warehouse later and added the smaller purchases to their voluminous Ikea shopping bag. Darcy was sure Rosie would adore the finished room and couldn’t wait to set it up.

  Chairs for the dining table, a low storage unit for a television, rugs and a soft green mohair throw and peacock-inspired cushions for living room sofa, and that room was done. There was little needed for the bathroom other than a tall narrow storage unit and a new shower curtain. Darcy was relieved to think she wouldn’t have to crouch in the tub to wash anymore as it wasn’t large enough to be comfortable.

  Then there was the kitchen. Darcy was taken aback when Gabriel announced that it needed a total refit. They spent some time batting possible styles back and forth and ended up choosing simple white units that incorporated clever storage solutions to replace the existing bench and co-ordinating wall cupboards with glass fronts to display crockery.

  Darcy loved wandering around the show room space, comparing the different rooms set up for customers to study. So many styles, so little time, she thought. And, since Gabriel had insisted that all of this was effectively part of the chateau and that he was paying for it, she didn’t have to worry about the bill which made it all the more enjoyable.

  They’d left her room til last. Darcy felt like a child on Christmas morning,….after looking at all of the beds, several times over, she was trying to decide between a simple practical bed in white timber, a fabric covered bed with a U-shaped padded head and footboards and a lovely black metal headboard that was designed to be wall-hung. Gabriel, feeling that the pastries were long-gone and growing hungrier by the minute, gave up trying to hide his impatience.

  “Stop,” he said, “lets narrow this down. Answer my questions,” now he was doing a bad parody of a Russian accent. Questions had come out as ‘kvestions’.

  “Okay.”

  “Hmmm, let me think …You like to sit up and read in bed? Da?”

  “Um, yeah,” Darcy replied, a little hesitantly.

  “Then forget the fancy metal thing, -you’ll grow to hate it after you’ve banged your head on the bars a few times.

  He was right, bother, she thought, answering with an uncompromising, “Hmmm, maybe.”

  “That wooden bed’s boring. Bland. Blah with a capital B and not your style at all …so that leaves the one with the padded ends. Comfortable, practical, good-looking. You can curl up with a load of pillows and read to your little heart’s content. Sold to the lady who can’t make up her mind,” he spoke quickly and jubilantly, smacking his hands together like an auctioneer who’d just made a sale.

  She hated to agree with him, smart aleck; but he was right on all counts. She’d already picked out a white timber closet with two big drawers under hanging space that would easily hold all the clothes she’d brought from London, and a bedside table from the same range. The white timber bed would have been too matchy-matchy.

  “You might possibly be right,” she said, twisting her lips in a way that he already knew indicated she didn’t like that he was, …”but don’t get too used to it,” she warned, “I’ll get those white curtains with the red candy stripes and the red and white duvet with the garlands of roses...and, red cushions. It’ll give some contrast.” She was thinking aloud, “Oh, and that cute round table with the curly legs….and a lamp.”

  “Fine, whatever you say, milady,” Gabriel bowed, “Now, can we move on to something more important… like lunch. I’m starving and I’m not looking at anything else until we’ve eaten. But first I’d better go outside and take Frodo for a walk and a bathroom break or there will be bad things awaiting us when we get back to car.”

  Darcy glanced down at her watch, amazed that they’d spent almost two hours in the store. Time had flown by and her stomach was letting her know that it been some time since the morning’s coffee and pastries. “Fair enough,” she agreed. “I’ll go retrieve Connor from the play area and we’ll meet up back in the children’s section next to the café.”

  “Ok, zince ve are een Ikea,” Gabriel announced in an attempt at a Swedish accent that was almost as bad as his previous Russian, “You vant Swéédéé méétéé bøøls for za lunch? Ja?” he spoke to Connor, adding, “Zay are zo yømmy” as he patted his enviably flat stomach. He had walked up to Darcy and Connor who were checking out the soft toy display in the children’s area,

  Darcy smothered a laugh, “Better not give up your day job. I’ve heard better Swedish accents on the Muppets than that.”

  “Yeah …Poot the chickie in the baskee,” Gabriel intoned, picking up a soft toy hen and lobbing it with considerable accuracy into a small basketball hoop on the wall. He then assisted Connor in netting a couple more hens before they started to attract the eye of a passing staff co-worker. Abashed, the two retrieved the chickens and returned them to the display, except for one which Gabriel kept. He picked up a soft black and white football as well, saying they would make good toys for Frodo, who was a sucker for toys and soft things.

  Darcy briefly wondered if it was the dog or the man who was a sucker for soft things…she had been watching the two playing. Gabriel was certainly a lot more fun to be around than she had expected from their first encounter. His ease with Connor showed that he hadn’t lied about spending time with children. Darcy wasn’t sure what she had imagined her new employer to be like but it was certainly nothing like this. The Gabriel Dubois that she had googled when checking out the potential job had appeared to be more of the go-getter, hard-headed businessman-tycoon type, rather than someone who put on silly voices and horsed around with boys in Ikea.

  They headed for the cafeteria, joining throngs of shoppers who had also decided it was lunchtime. They all opted for classic Ikea fare …Three plates of meatballs, Lingonberry sauce and chips later, they found an unoccupied table by a window, parking their shopping trolleys nearby. Connor had chosen a soft drink from the cooler but Darcy and Gabriel’s coffees needed filling at a dispenser in the centre of the large room. Now that she had stopped to rest, Darcy’s legs felt tired from standing all morning. She was quite happy to sit with her back to the warm sun from the wide picture window while Connor went off with their cups to the dispenser. She closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth.

  Gabriel sat opp
osite, his dark eyes watching her. She seemed unaware that the sun at her back had made a halo of orange light in the curls around her head. The effect was quite mesmerising.

  “Darcy,” he mused, his gaze still on her hair. “That’s unusual for a girl’s name, isn’t it?”

  “Hmmm,” Darcy sighed, opening her eyes to answer lazily, “My mother had a thing about Jane Austin,…you know, Pride and Prejudice and all that,…ours was a big family, I’ve got five older sisters and I was lucky number six,…they kept trying for a boy,…but got me instead,…the final disappointment. By the time I’d arrived she’d used up all the girl’s names:” she recited them off, “Jane, Elizabeth, Mary, Catherine and Lydia, and in some fit of fancy she decided to name me after the lead male character. Once I got used to it, I didn’t mind. I decided it’s better than being stuck with Lizzy or Kitty for a name.”

  “And just think, you could’ve ended up being Wentworth, or what’s that other character’s name? Collins. He was a bit of a creepy pervert, wasn’t he?”

  “Yeah,” she laughed, “that might have been nasty, so I probably got off quite lightly.” She looked across at Gabriel. “I’ve got a question for you too.”

  “Sounds ominous,” he said, leaning backwards in his seat and stretching one long arm across the back of the adjacent chair. “Okay, fire away.”

  “No, it’s nothing too bad; I’m just curious how you happen to have an American accent when you speak English but it disappears when you speak French.”

  “That’s easy, relatively. It’s part of a bigger story ….and speaking of ‘bigger’, six is not a big family…I was the sixth of nine. Born and raised not far from here. Without going into unnecessary detail, let’s just say I got into some trouble in my youth.” Gabriel played with the cutlery as he recounted, “My father died when I was twelve and I didn’t handle it well. My mother, who’s American by the way and a lawyer, decided that I was too much to deal with and packed me off to my aunt and uncle in New York when I was almost sixteen to get me away from my undesirable friends. You could say I was a sort of Fresh prince of Bel-Air but I didn’t land in such a sweet set-up as Will Smith.” He laughed self-consciously before continuing. “My uncle was a take-no-prisoners New York cop who believed in tough love. Maman figured I’d be forced to go straight; as always, she was right ….in short …I finished school, won a scholarship, went on to Harvard business school, and picked up an American accent that I just can’t seem to get shot of along the way.” Relaxing, he stretched his legs out in front of him, feet crossed at the ankles…it reminded Darcy of the day she’d first seen him at the vets.

  “You’ve got an odd accent yourself,” he shot back …grinned… “And not only when you speak French.”

  “Thank you so much for instilling confidence in my French-speaking abilities,” Darcy retorted dryly, screwing up her nose and making a face.

  “I didn’t say that it was bad ...only odd. Perhaps ‘different’ would be a more accurate description. You have a sort of hybrid southern belle, upper class English thing going when you speak English. And when you speak ...and by ‘speak’ I mean ‘torture’ the French language, you sound sexy.”

  “What?!” she interjected, leaning across the table. “How can I possibly sound sexy when I speak French? I can hardly put two words together.”

  “You can’t help it,” he shrugged, “Practically all English-speakers sound sexy to French ears when they speak French. There’re always a few exceptions, of course, but by and large, that’s the rule.”

  “Oh, I get it. Like all French-speakers sound sexy when they try to speak English and say ‘zis’ and ‘zat’ and stuff like that.” Darcy stretched both hands forwards on the table top pointing at Gabriel, “But you don’t do that, do you?”

  “Ahh, do I detect that you are hinting I don’t sound sexy? I can say ‘zis’ and ‘zat’ if you want me to,” he leaned forward until their faces were almost touching, placing one elbow on the table and putting a finger up to his cheek as he teased, the other hand creeping forward to cover hers, wanting to see the effect. Sure enough, within seconds her face was alight with a rosy blush. He chuckled quietly, leaning back. Mission accomplished.

  She knew she was being baited and refused to rise. Changing the subject seemed a good idea. She directed the conversation back to safer waters. “And you came back to your old stomping ground to buy a chateau?” Darcy let the question in that statement hang, hoping for an explanation.

  Gabriel contemplated for a long minute before answering, then looked Darcy directly in the eyes as he said, “Well, I’m the local bad boy, made good,….what better way to prove it than to buy the biggest property in the neighbourhood?”

  “I doubt it’s that simple,” Darcy said.

  “No, you’re correct, it’s always more complicated than that,… his eyes took on an unfocused look and he directed his thoughts inwards. “…I’ve always had a thing about the place, I used to bike past it on my way to school when I was a kid and I’d make up stories about living there. When I was young I played with my friends in the woods, then, when I grew older, I got up to other ‘fun’ stuff in the woods,” he smiled mockingly before adding, “some of that was what got me shipped off to America.”

  “You mean, like girls?” Darcy said, a little appalled at what she figured he did mean. “But you said you were only fifteen when you left. That’s kind of young for that kind of ‘fun’, isn’t it?” she blurted, shocked. She could see Connor coming back towards them with the hot drinks, and imagined her child up to ‘fun’ in four or five years’ time…it was not the kind of picture she wanted in her mind.

  “You’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy. This is France.” his eyes narrowed at the judgement he could see in hers. “What do you want me to say? We’re all immoral? Or maybe just me?” he challenged.

  “I’m here to design your garden, not judge your morals,” Darcy retorted, uncomfortable with the way the conversation had turned so suddenly to teenage sex.

  “Fine,” he replied, sitting back again, unaccustomed to feeling irritated that he had been judged and found wanting. “But if you don’t want the answers, don’t ask the questions. I can guarantee that you won’t like everything you hear people saying about me.”

  “I don’t listen to gossip.”

  “That’s untrue, and you know it,” he shot back quietly, his voice lowered as he eyed Connor who was approaching with their hot drinks. “Everyone listens to gossip. With the possible exception of my mother,” he added after a moment’s thought, “And then they embroider it and pass it on. It’s part of being human…and you look very human to me.”

  There was a strained quality to the conversation at the table as they ate lunch and finished their coffee. When they got up to leave, Gabriel put out a hand to restrain Darcy, allowing Connor to walk on ahead of the pair.

  “I apologise,” he spoke sincerely, saying simply, “It wasn’t my intention to upset you.” He stopped for moment before continuing, “Somehow a straightforward conversation with you becomes loaded with twists and turns that I never anticipated.” He looked thoughtfully down at her.

  “I’m sorry too,” Darcy replied, meaning it. “I guess I’m just,….prickly. My best friend says I’m like a hedgehog when take offence –I roll into a ball, spines out and post a ‘do-not-touch’ notice. She says I should develop a thicker skin.”

  Gabriel ran his hand lightly down her cheek. “I wouldn’t worry too much. I can handle the ‘prickles’, and I like your skin just the way it is. Especially that little dusting of freckles over your nose and cheeks.” The touch was momentary; he dropped his hand and turned away, catching up with Connor, but Darcy could feel the trace of where he’d caressed her cheek for some time after.

  They made their way downstairs to the storage areas to pick up and pay for the furniture and housewares they’d chosen. Gabriel ordered the kitchen cabinets and organized delivery to the chateau. This done, they headed outside, filling the SUV’s hatch an
d the trailer with their purchases.

  “Um, there’s one more thing I’d like to do, if it’s okay with you?” Darcy asked Gabriel’s back as he was bending to tighten a tie down strap on the opposite side of the trailer. When she realized that she was ogling his tight jeans-clad bottom for the second time that day she quickly looked away.

  “Please tell me it doesn’t involve any more heavy lifting,” Gabriel responded, turning his head towards her and rolling his shoulders as he crouched to tie off the end of the strap. He wondered why she was staring off into space.

  “Well, I can see we’ve still got a bit of a gap,” Darcy indicated the trailer, “and I’ve been thinking about getting bikes for the children. I saw there was a Decathlon store over there,” she pointed to the opposite side of the parking lot.

  “A bit of a gap, you say?” Gabriel shook his head. “No way. You’ll never fit two bikes, even kids’ size, in that space. How about we go and choose them and I’ll come back tomorrow to pick them up?”

  After inspecting those available, Connor chose a red all-terrain bicycle for himself, with front and rear suspension and a ‘wicked’ flame pattern on the frame. They all agreed on a lolly pink bedazzled bike for Rosie that included a front pannier that would be perfect for carrying her collection of Barbies and My Little Ponies around the chateau grounds.

  Darcy turned from paying for the bikes and organizing for them to be put aside for collection, to find Connor and Gabriel had disappeared. She searched up and down aisles jam-packed with goods for every sport imaginable and a few she hadn’t imagined, until she found them, deep in conversation in front of the archery equipment. As she approached, Gabriel turned to her.

  “Connor here says he wants to learn to shoot…arrows, not bullets, archery that is…I started when I was younger than him and I’d like to teach him. Assuming that’s okay with you of course.” They both stood and waited for her reply, but Darcy could spot a stitch-up when she saw one. They’d already decided, and if she said ‘no’, she’d be the wicked-witch-of-Normandy.

  She shrugged. Like Gabriel had said earlier in the day, when in Rome, or France, do as the romans do ... or, as in this case, the annoying Frenchman who held the trump card of her son’s approval. “Fine,” she answered, thinking, blimmin’ heck, bows and arrows … with nasty sharp pointy ends that are designed to go straight through things. She looked up at Gabriel, “Please tell me you’re very good at this and you’ve never had an accident.”

  “I am very good at this,” she looked so cross that he decided he might as well wind her up a bit more… “As I am at many things,” he added, “some of which we’ve previously discussed.” He noted her stiff shoulders. Smiled. “And, what’s more, I have never had an accident,”… he hesitated there, she’d fluffed up like a mother hen wanting to protect her chick, then carried on as if he hadn’t noticed, “though there was that one time when I shot my brother in the ass …but it was nothing serious. No limbs were lost and no one died.” Now was openly laughing at her.

  Darcy gave him a narrow-eyed stare. As the victor, he could at least try for a little humility, she thought sourly.

  They left the store with Connor proudly carrying a new bow, arrows and all the accessories required for archery.

  Darcy was not at all thrilled but did what she could to hide her concerns.

  Well aware of this, Gabriel did his best to hide the knowledge. He would not tell her that archery lessons had all been his own idea, although Connor had jumped at the suggestion. Watching Connor, he’d decided that the boy needed another interest other than that of incessantly playing his electronic games.

  Both adults were busy with their own thoughts on the return drive to the chateau. After a few desultory attempts at conversation they lapsed into a not particularly comfortable silence that lasted all the way home.