Lucien laughed. Marc loved seeing his father happy and the way the corners of his mouth creased when he smiled. Granted, he looked ill. All of his hair was gone due to chemo treatments and his skin had a sallow appearance. The weight loss was the most shocking thing of all. Marc still couldn’t wrap his head around how a person could literally start to disappear due to an illness.
The sound of his mother’s footsteps clicking on the hardwood floor heralded his mother’s arrival. Charlotte turned toward her, greeting her with a beautiful smile. Marc immediately noticed his mother’s reserved demeanor. Rather than hug Charlotte as she did most guests who came into their home, Marisol reached out and offered her hand. Without skipping a beat, Charlotte shook it and said, “Your home is lovely, Mrs. Cabron.”
“Thank you, Charlotte,” she said with a gracious smile.
“Charlotte brought these for you,” Marc said, handing her the bouquet of flowers. His mother’s eyes gleamed and she let out a gasp of appreciation. She took the flowers from Marc and raised them to her nostrils.
“Oh, they’re stunning. Roses are my favorite. They were part of my bridal bouquet. Thank you, Charlotte. What a thoughtful gesture.”
“You’re welcome. Enjoy them,” Charlotte said.
“Dinner will be ready in a few minutes,” Marisol said. “Marc why don’t you come in the kitchen and get something to drink for Charlotte.” His mother was giving him the eye and letting him know she wanted to talk with him in private.
Marc wanted to groan out loud. If his mother had something bad to say about Charlotte, he would be furious. She was coming into the situation with a bias against the Duvall family due to the events of a few years ago. His mother had been furious at the way he’d been gossiped about and slandered in Savannah. As his mother, of course Marisol had believed he’d gotten an unfair share of the blame for the Case and Fancy fiasco.
Regardless, it wouldn’t be fair to Charlotte to punish her for things that were out of her control. He just prayed his mother could view Charlotte on her own merits and not through a lens of judgement.
Marc followed her down the hall to the kitchen, bracing himself for the worst.
As soon as they reached the kitchen, Marisol turned toward him and said, “Why did you wait so long to bring Charlotte home to meet us? Oh, she’s such a lovely girl. All grace and charm, but not stuck up or snooty. And those flowers. I love a girl who knows the value of flowers, especially roses. Oh Marc, the two of you would have some really nice looking babies.”
Marc groaned and put his head in his hands. “Mama. Hush. You’re talking a mile a minute and I’m really afraid Charlotte will overhear you. Your voice does have a tendency to carry.”
She reached up and took his face between her palms. “Marc. I’m so thrilled for you. You’ve been through so much. Too much sadness. And now this wonderful woman has come into your life. I could almost do a jig right here in the kitchen.”
Marc shook his head. “Please don’t. We still have to sit down to dinner and I’m afraid Pop is going to get worn out.”
Marisol’s expression dimmed a little bit. “Tonight means the world to him. You know that, right?”
“Of course I do,” he said. “He’s been talking about it for days. You know he loves to have dinner guests.”
“That man is something else,” she said in a wistful tone. “As sick as he is, and with all he’s been through, he never complains, always thanks God for his blessings and greets the world with a smile.”
“They broke the mold when they made him,” Marc said. “Truthfully, I lucked out in the parent department. God sure did bless me.”
Marc watched his mother’s eyes pool with emotion. She rubbed at her eyes. “There you go again, making me cry.” Marisol untied her apron and waved it at Marc. “Shoo. Go on and sit with Charlotte and your father. Dinner will be ready in the shake of a lamb’s tail.”
As Marc entered the living room, the sight of his father sitting with Charlotte immediately drew his attention. They were talking with animated voices and their heads were close together as if they were sharing secrets. Marc enjoyed the sight of Charlotte laughing with abandon. His father was clearly enjoying Charlotte’s company. He heard his father say the words thumb and blanket along with his name.
“Seriously, Pop? Are you really telling her about how I sucked my thumb until I was five and brought my blankie to the first day of school?” Marc asked, shaking his head at his father.
Lucien shared a conspiratorial look with Charlotte. They both burst out laughing.
Lucien shrugged. “It’s a father’s prerogative.”
Charlotte grinned at Marc, clearly enjoying being in on the joke with his father. Marc couldn’t help but smile. Two of his favorite people in the world were enjoying a joke at his expense. More importantly, they were bonding and finding joy in each other’s company. Marc couldn’t have wished for a better sight to behold. Despite his father’s grave condition and dire prognosis, joy pulsed in this room.
The human spirit was indomitable. You could hurl the very worst at a person and they still stood tall and strong. They still embraced life.
He thought of one of his favorite passages from the Bible. “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.” Yes, indeed. There was joy all around him.
* * *
Charlotte was in love with Lucien and Marisol Cabron. And if she wasn’t mistaken, she was falling in love with their son as well. Ever since she had walked into the Cabron’s home she’d been treated like a part of their extended family. They were gracious and kind and warm. Although Charlotte had detected a slight resistance in Marisol, she’d quickly warmed up. Charlotte wasn’t oblivious to the fact that the Cabron family had seen their son go through some really hard times due to his fiancée’s death and the fallout from his relationship with Fancy. They were bound to be protective of their son.
Within five minutes of Marc joining Charlotte and his father in the living room, Marisol called them to dinner. Over coquilles St. Jacques, French roasted chicken, arroz con pollo, shredded beef, corn bread and Nicoise salad, they got to know each other better. Charlotte discovered things about Marc she hadn’t yet known. He was an award winning swimmer who had almost made the Olympic team. Marisol had been a dancer and used to own a dance studio in Savannah. Lucien was a crime buff. He enjoyed watching crime television shows and trying to solve the mystery from his armchair.
They seemed fascinated about Savannah House. Charlotte couldn’t have chosen a better topic to discuss. She was all too happy to tell them about the renovations and the daily happenings at the resort. She told them a sweet story about a honeymooning couple who had mistakenly booked a smaller room rather than the honeymoon suite. By the time they arrived it was too late to upgrade them since the room was already booked out. As a surprise, the ladies had transformed another room into a honeymoon suite complete with breakfast in bed, champagne and chocolate.
“You’re more than welcome to drive out and visit. Morgan is head chef, as well as being a co-owner and one of my closest friends. She’s a fantastic chef. She’ll make you a fantastic meal while you’re there.” Charlotte heard the pride ring out in her voice. She loved Savannah House and she was happy to sing its praises.
“That would be lovely,” Marisol said. “We may take you up on that offer.”
“Please do,” Charlotte said with a smile. “I can’t help but notice the intricate pattern of this tablecloth.” Charlotte had been staring at the tablecloth since she’d sat down to dinner. She traced her finger across the lace. “It’s so unusual.”
Marisol looked over at her husband and smiled. “My mother-in-law gave this to me in Cuba. It’s French lace. Both Lucien and I have French roots, so Marc is both French and Cuban.”
“Interesting mix,” Charlotte said. No wonder Marc had such unique features. He was the perfect blend of two fascinating cultures. The food tonight had been sheer perfection and a reflection of both French and Cuban
cuisine.
At the end of dinner, Charlotte hopped up to help clear the table. Marisol stopped her dead in her tracks. “You’re a guest. Go visit with Lucien while Marc and I clear the table and fill the dishwasher.” She winked at Charlotte. “Take notice. Marc knows how to wash dishes, clear a table and he can even cook a little.”
Charlotte grinned. “You raised him right.”
“Amen to that,” Marisol chirped, her beautiful face lit up with pride. It was obvious to Charlotte that Marc was well loved by his parents. According to Lucien, his two sisters doted on him as well.
Marc held up his hands. “I promise I didn’t pay her to sing my praises. I’ll be back in a little bit. Clean up duty calls.” Marc sailed off into the kitchen with a hand full of dishes.
“Shall we go to the living room? I want to show you something,” Lucien said. Charlotte nodded and said, “Sure thing. Let me help you with your walker.” She jumped up from her seat and helped Lucien from his seated position. It took a little effort, but once he was standing Lucien was able to grip the bar of his walker and proceed toward the living room. Charlotte walked behind him, noticing how laborious his steps were, yet full of admiration for his pluck and courage. His attitude was incredible. By the time he reached the entryway, he had to pause to catch his breath.
“Sorry to hold you up, but I get winded easily these days,” Lucian said.
“Don’t worry on my account. It gives me a chance to admire your home. These pictures are adorable.” Hanging on the wall were photos of the Cabron family—school photos with Marc missing his two front teeth, a family Christmas photo taken decades ago, apple picking with the family, as well as a host of other memorable moments. These photos told a story, one Charlotte felt fortunate to bear witness to.
Once Lucien reached his armchair, Charlotte took his arm and helped him sit down. He looked at her with gratitude shining in his eyes. No words were necessary. She sat down next to him in another chair. Lucien took her hand in his. “Charlotte, thank you for caring for my son. As I’m sure you know, he’s a very special man.”
Charlotte patted Lucien’s hand. “I do know, Mr. Cabron.”
“Please call me Lucien. Marc has a great deal of affection for you, which tells me you’re a wonderful woman. Otherwise, Marc wouldn’t have brought you here tonight.”
Lucien’s words brought tears to her eyes. Marc’s invitation to come to dinner tonight had been so meaningful. At the heart of it was the knowledge of his father’s illness and prognosis. These were precious moments they were sharing with her.
“I’m blessed to be with a man like Marc.”
“If you ask me, you’re both blessed. Now I’m going to say something awkward. Please indulge an old man. I’m not going to be around much longer.”
“Oh please don’t say that, Lucien. You never know what—”
“I know,” he said in a firm voice. “The doctors have told me. Scans don’t lie. And I’ve made my peace with it. I’ve had a wonderful life with my beautiful Marisol and my amazing children. At this point I’m happy to leave a legacy behind and it has nothing to do with material things or how much money I have in the bank. It’s about love.”
Charlotte nodded, her eyes tearing up. “I couldn’t agree more. And the way Marc talks about you and his family…it’s clear he grew up surrounded by love.”
His grip on her hand tightened. “I want that for him. If you happen to be the one, the woman who holds his heart, I want to tell you Marc will love you like no other. He’s genuine and strong and more loving than anyone I’ve ever known. So treasure him, as I know he’ll treasure you.”
On impulse, Charlotte reached out and hugged Lucien. His words had been heartfelt and incredibly moving. Charlotte had no idea if she and Marc would go the distance, but it felt as if she had just received Lucien’s blessing.
“Take a look at this.” He reached down beside his chair and pulled a photo album on to his lap. “This is a record of my relationship with Marisol.” His eyes twinkled as he opened up the book and came upon the first photo. It was a black and white photo of a group of children in old fashioned outfits. “There I am,” he said, pointing to a cute kid holding a baseball bat and smiling. “This is Marisol,” he said, placing his finger on a little girl with ringlets and a pout on her face.
Charlotte laughed. “Wow. She looks upset about something.”
“Ha! She was always like that as a child, ever since the first day I met her. I met Marisol when I was five-years-old and she was a pain in the neck since day one. Crying. Pouting. Complaining. I wanted nothing to do with her.”
“Something must have changed,” Charlotte said, curious to know when their love story began.
“Something happened when she reached her sixteenth birthday. Her parents hosted a party for her.” Lucien wagged his eyebrows. “When I walked in and saw her in her pink party dress and heels, I couldn’t believe my eyes. She was a knockout.
He turned the page and tapped the next photo. “Here she is, pink dress and all.”
Charlotte looked at the picture of a sixteen-year-old Marisol decked out in a poufy pink dress. Lucien smiled back at her from the picture. His arm was draped around Marisol in a romantic pose. They looked like young lovebirds.
“So this is how it all began,” Charlotte said, grateful to Lucien for showing her this classic photo. It was the beginning of their love story, one that had taken them from the shores of Cuba to beautiful Savannah, Georgia where they had built a wonderful life with three children and a home bursting with love.
“Marc told me the two of you got off on the wrong foot. I just wanted to show you that first impressions don’t always stick. I didn’t think highly of Marisol when we first met and for many years afterwards. But it all changed in an instant. I realized she was a wonderful person, full of so much love to give.” He began coughing. Charlotte waited a moment but he continued to cough.
“Do you need some water?” she asked, fretting about his coughing fit. Although he projected such a sunny vibe, it was clear Lucien was gravely ill. His body was giving out on him day by day. His hollowed out cheeks and the pallor of his skin spoke volumes.
He pointed to the side table where a bottle of water sat. Charlotte got up and handed it to him. Lucien sat for a few moments and drank the water. “Better. Thanks. This coughing is getting worse. It usually acts up when I’m talking a lot, but I do like to talk.” He winked at Charlotte. “Where was I? Oh yes, Marisol. She had a terrible home life, one she rarely brings up. There was a lot of abuse and hardship. So, I was patient with her. Love gave me wings. And together we flew.”
“You sure did. Honestly, your love story is inspiring on so many levels. I can just close my eyes and picture the two of you at her sixteenth birthday party. Thank you for sharing it with me and bringing those memories to life.”
He patted her hand. “She wore her sorrow outwardly, which gave the world the wrong impression about her. Deep down she was a jewel. I like to think I helped bring out that side of her with my love.”
“I have something in my past I haven’t shared with Marc. You’ve given me the courage to do just that,” Charlotte said. She had known for a while now that she needed to be completely honest with Marc. If they had any chance of making their relationship work, she needed to trust him. Fancy and Case’s relationship had shown her the hazards of keeping secrets, even ones that didn’t seem so harmful.
Once Marc finished up in the kitchen, Charlotte and Marc went outside to sit on the wraparound porch. As they settled on to the swing, Marc put his arm around Charlotte’s shoulder and pulled her close.
“You have great parents,” Charlotte said in a gushing voice. “They made me feel right at home.”
“I’m glad. You and my dad seemed to get on like a house on fire,” he said, looking pleased. Charlotte smiled just remembering their poignant discussion. It was one she would remember for the rest of her life.
“He’s one special man,” Charlotte said. �
�I’m not sure I could have his strength or wonderful attitude.”
“Sure you could. I think we never know how high we can rise until we’re challenged.”
Charlotte looked down at her fingers and away from Marc’s gaze. “Speaking of challenges, there’s something I want to tell you.”
“Can it wait a minute?” Marc asked in a tender voice. “There’s something I need to do first.”
She nodded, sensing he wanted to kiss her. He leaned in and dipped his head down so that his lips were pressed against hers. With the full moon watching, they shared a wonderful kiss that lifted Charlotte up to heights she’d never before experienced. As the kiss ended, Charlotte murmured Marc’s name against his lips. In this moment things were more clear to her than ever. She wasn’t falling in love with Marc. She had already fallen in love with him—madly, dangerously, tenderly in love with him. It was too late to back away or hit the pause button. Charlotte Duvall—for the first time in her life—was in love.
“I’d like to think we can get through anything together. With love and faith and prayer, there really aren’t any hurdles we can’t jump over.”
Case Duvall
Chapter Nine
Fancy and Case’s Valentine’s Day wedding was rapidly approaching. Charlotte was one of the hostesses at a bridal shower for Fancy. It was a beautiful event at the Savannah Historical Society. Fancy—resplendent in a pink dress—was beaming from head to toe about marrying the man of her heart. Charlotte was thrilled for her future sister-in-law. Fancy’s heart was as wide as the ocean. Finally, she was going to be Mrs. Case Duvall.
All this talk about the wedding forced Charlotte to think about bringing Marc as her date. She’d been so busy with work and helping out with minor details for the big day that she’d completely forgotten to ask him. It would be a wonderful opportunity to introduce him to her parents and make their official debut as a couple. Now that she had met Marc’s parents it only seemed fitting.
Falling in Love (Secrets of Savannah Book 5) Page 13