She and her mother were so close that people often mistook them for sisters. Her mother had been both parents to her, struggling to bring up a daughter on her own after her husband had died. Then when her mother had needed care from her in her turn, Sylvie had been off on a jaunt to France. She resolved to make it up to her. She would stay near at hand until Yvonne was completely recovered and she wouldn’t leave her mother unprotected again.
London Heathrow came and went with Sylvie following through all the logistical requirements like a robot. She fell asleep halfway across the Atlantic, a deep sleep of emotional exhaustion, and awoke to find that the hazy bewilderment had dissipated leaving her calm and rational, better able to face the coming meeting with her mother.
The Prof met her plane at Clarksville; Jean-Luc had phoned him with the flight details. He threw his arms round his favourite godchild and gave her his customary bear hug. Sylvie felt the tears rising again and she sniffed and wiped her nose.
“I feel so bad, Prof. I wish I’d been here.”
“There, there, Sylvie, m’dear. These things happen and your mother is in good hands, the best, and she’s doing well. I have to warn you: she’s not too happy that you’ve thrown everything up and come back home on her account.”
“What else could I do, Prof? She’s my mother and she’s sacrificed everything for me.”
“I don’t think she would consider it a sacrifice, my child. That’s what mothers do, well, good ones, anyway. Come, let’s get your luggage out to the car and we’ll go straight to the hospital so that you can set your mind at rest. Yvonne is longing to see you.”
Sylvie sat back and watched with unseeing eyes as the countryside and then the urban sprawl passed by the car window. She had to put all her feelings aside and concentrate on being loving and positive when she saw her mother. She took out her makeup bag and dabbed light eye shadow over her eyes to camouflage the red left by tears and overnight travel, applied lip-gloss and gave her hair a comb through. A touch of pink on her pale cheeks and she thought she looked ready to present a face of serenity but she couldn’t control her feelings. As they walked up the steps to the hospital, her stomach clenched with violent spasms and she had to stop and double up until the pains eased. The Prof waited in silence for her to recover, took her arm and guided her across the foyer and into the lift.
Her mother was in a cheerful private room. She was sitting up in bed when they walked in. Sylvie took one look at her mother’s drawn and pale face and shut her eyes tightly but nothing had changed when she opened them again. She forced herself to smile, making sure that her smile reached right up to her eyes, and approached the bed, saying, “Hi, Maman. It’s good to see you looking so well. You gave me quite a fright, you know.”
Joy spread across her mother’s face. “Ah, chérie, how I have missed you. Come and kiss me.”
Sylvie leaned over and kissed her mother on both cheeks and left her cheek resting on her mother’s while she breathed in her mother’s essence and absorbed the deep love they felt for each other. Then she straightened up, forcing back her hovering tears, and clasped her mother’s thin fingers in her hand, waiting for her mother to speak.
“So, chérie, tell me your news. What was it like in France? You don’t say much in your emails or when you phone.”
Yvonne looked over to the door where the Prof was still standing. “Come and sit, I’m sure you are just as interested as I am in Sylvie’s French escapade.”
The Prof did as he was bid and held Yvonne’s other hand in his.
Sylvie told them about the Wolf Project and the problems they were having with the illegal killing of the animals and of the part she was playing in finding the criminals.
Yvonne shook her head, “Oh, Sylvie, you shouldn’t have left before you had finished the job. Doesn’t the team need you?”
“Marcel, that’s the vet who helps us, will do the last autopsy and the others can manage without me.”
“Well, I suppose it’s too late now as you are already here but you mustn’t stay too long. The Prof tells me you are going to base your thesis for your PhD on the work you are doing with the wolves in France.”
Sylvie kissed her mother again, “Maman, it’s OK, truly. You concentrate on getting better and I’ll be here for you.”
At the end of visiting hours, Sylvie promised to visit again the next morning and the Prof took her home.
From the time Robert and Lisa had given Sylvie the news about her mother’s illness to the moment when Jean-Luc watched her walk through the gate at the airport, he hadn’t had time to think. He had acted automatically, doing his best to solve the problem of getting Sylvie home to her mother in Mississippi as quickly as possible. It wasn’t until he parked his car outside his flat that the import of what had happened hit home: Sylvie was gone and whether he would ever see her again or not was uncertain.
He was sure she was in love with him when she left but he was well aware of the old saying, loin des yeux, loin du coeur, out of sight, out of mind, and he knew she would be concentrating all her attention on her mother, as she should. All he could do was be as supportive as possible. Not that he could be particularly effective with the Atlantic Ocean between them.
He was pleased to receive an email from her to say that she had arrived safely but he couldn’t help but notice that the tone was abrupt and factual. She didn’t say she loved him. She didn’t say she missed him. He put her apparent coldness down to preoccupation with her mother’s condition and didn’t think any more of it until he received no reply to his own email. Then no reply to the second nor the third.
What if she was having second thoughts about him? Even worse, what if she wasn’t thinking about him at all? Their relationship had been through a rollercoaster of cold war followed by hot sex and then back again. Having held his feelings for Sylvie in check for so long for fear of having his heart broken again, he was over-sensitive to the fact that she hadn’t contacted him. Perhaps she needed time to come to terms with the situation at home. It was selfish of him to expect to be in the forefront of her mind at such a time but why wasn’t she even acknowledging his attempts at loving support?
Meanwhile his professional life had to go on. All the time he was continuing with his work with the police to find the wolf-killer, firming up evidence, overseeing the analysis of samples and running the project generally, he was beset with insecurity about Sylvie and whether she really felt anything for him or not.
Lobo had been excited to have his mistress back and wouldn’t leave Sylvie alone. They took many long walks together through the streets of the pretty Clarksville suburb while Sylvie pondered over the events of the past year. The only contact she made with Jean-Luc during this process was to send him a short email saying she had arrived safely and thanking him for his help. So uncertain was she of how she felt about things that she signed it with her name only; she addressed no endearments to him and made no reference to their relationship, past or future.
Interspersed with her periods of introspection and self-examination were her twice daily visits to her mother in the hospital. Yvonne was doing well and passing all the tests the doctors set for her. They said they would probably allow her home to recuperate at the end of the fortnight. The Prof was usually by her mother’s bedside when Sylvie arrived and always there when she left. It was obvious he was taking the promise he had made to Sylvie’s father very seriously indeed.
Although Sylvie did not contact or respond to Jean-Luc, he sent her an email every day, asking how she was, how her mother was doing and keeping her up to date generally with the work of the Wolf Project.
Each time she clicked to open his daily email, flutters ran up and down her legs and arms, and her stomach lurched to the point of panic. She didn’t know how to answer him and so she remained silent, but it cost her. She knew she had fallen deeply and irrevocably in love with him. Yes, they had had their periods of unfriendliness if not veiled hostility but some of that she was sure had been due
to an attraction to which neither had wanted to admit.
She had hated parting from him and if her mother had not fallen ill, she would have still been in France, working with the project and perhaps they would have gone on to live together permanently and, maybe, even get married.
However, her mother’s heart attack had brought her up short and made her realize that Yvonne would not be there forever. She was mortal and would die like everyone else one day. At the root of Sylvie’s state of disconnection and bewilderment was her confusion about to whom she owed the greater loyalty: to her mother who had looked after her all her young life and who was now ill, or to Jean-Luc, the man she loved and whom she wanted to be her mate for life. She felt guilty for not being there when her mother had needed her but she felt she was betraying Jean-Luc and their love by leaving him and then not communicating with him.
Sometime during her second week back home he sent her an email to tell her that the police had succeeded in matching the DNA of the urine sample she had taken near the Number Six wolf den with the sample taken from the young man whom they had found in possession of her cell phone. The police had discovered a second sack of xylitol in the woodshed behind his house during their search of the premises. They now had conclusive proof that he was the wolf-killer. The Chief of Police had arrested him and the Wolf Project team were working closely with his department to prepare the evidence for trial.
The knowledge that she and Lisa had contributed in a major way to the successful hunt for the killer was professionally satisfying. However, the glow didn’t stay with her for long. It was like receiving a message from a planet in outer space, a message about lives far removed from hers, about people she would never see again.
After writing to Sylvie for a week without receiving a reply, Jean-Luc was desperate for some kind of feedback. He could hold out no longer and searched for her mother’s home number in Sylvie’s file. The first time he called his hand was shaking so badly he could hardly keep his grip on the phone. When the answer phone clicked on, it caught him by surprise and he ended the call. He hadn’t trusted his voice to sound calm enough to be recorded. The only thing to do, he decided, was to write out a message and read it when the machine switched on. Although he kept the tone of his message light, he did tell her how much he loved her and how he hoped to hear from her.
Still no reply. He was conscious of being irritable with his colleagues. He couldn’t sleep. He lay in bed with pictures of his time with Sylvie scrolling through his mind. How pretty she was, how delicate and fragile. How he had come to a belated admiration and respect for her professionalism. How tough she could be even under the most difficult of circumstances. His mind replayed the times they had made love: what fun she had been, how they had laughed.
27 : Loyalties and Commitment
For Sylvie, the evenings after she returned from the hospital were particularly difficult. That was when she missed Jean-Luc the most, especially when she went to bed alone. She missed his affection, the way he cherished her and his sexiness. How she missed the latter! Her skin ached for his touch.
The day after he had told her about the arrest of the wolf-killer she was alone in the house and the phone rang late at night. She jumped out of bed in alarm thinking it was the hospital with bad news about her mother. She hurried down the stairs not bothering to put on a dressing gown or slippers. The answering machine cut in as she reached the bottom stair and then Jean-Luc’s voice said, “Sylvie, sweetheart, mon amour, please pick up. I am so worried about you.”
Her legs gave way and she sank onto the step. She put her head in her hands and listened to the rest of the message. She couldn’t afford to answer him until she had decided what she should do. Stay and give him up, or return to France and leave her mother behind to grow old alone miles away on the other side of the ocean.
“Sylvie? Can you hear me, Sylvie? Please pick up. I miss you, ma chérie, and Lisa and Robert ask me every day how you are. Are you all right? Please write if only to say that you are OK. Sweetheart?”
The call ended before her resolution gave out. She let Lobo out of the kitchen and took him upstairs to sleep on the rug in her bedroom and keep her company.
After that, Jean-Luc called every night and every night she resisted picking up the phone. It wouldn’t be fair to re-establish contact with him if she wasn’t going to return to France. Better a clean break than stringing him along and then telling him later that she was staying with her mother.
Jean-Luc knew he was behaving like a teenager with a crush but he had to speak to Sylvie, had to know what was happening to her, had to know where he stood. He decided to call the Professor.
“Hello, Professor Templeton. How may I help you?”
Jean-Luc took a deep breath to calm his nerves before he spoke. He was aware that he was breaking an unwritten rule that boyfriends should not contact parents in such circumstances but he felt he had so much to lose if he didn’t.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Sir. I’m a colleague of Sylvie Latour’s here in Nice – on the Wolf Project. We’ve heard nothing from her and we are all wondering if she is all right, and, of course, if her mother has recovered.”
“How very kind of you to call. To whom am I speaking?”
“Jean-Luc du Lamond.”
“Oh, yes. You are her boss on the project, isn’t that so? You phoned me with her flight details.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I can tell you that her mother is doing fine – still in hospital but she should be home within the week.”
“And Sylvie?” asked Jean-Luc, not quite managing to keep the catch out of his voice.
“Is there something Sylvie hasn’t told us, Monsieur du Lamond?”
Jean-Luc kicked himself for giving away his feelings. He might have known that the Dean would be able to tell that there was more to his call than professional courtesy. He hesitated before continuing but then decided that as Professor Templeton would have Sylvie’s best interests at heart, he should tell him how things had been before she left Nice.
Professor Templeton listened to what Jean-Luc had to say. When Jean-Luc had finished, the Professor made no comment nor gave any judgment except to warn him Sylvie was feeling guilty about her mother, and it was best to leave her alone until she could be sure her mother had made a full recovery.
“May I call you again, Sir?”
“Certainly. I’m sure we both want what is best for Sylvie.”
The day before her mother’s return Sylvie gave the house a thorough cleaning, put flowers in her mother’s bedroom and stocked the fridge with all the healthy foods required by her mother’s new heart-friendly diet. The Prof brought Yvonne back that evening and settled her in her favourite armchair in front of the fire.
“You’ll stay to dinner, won’t you, Prof?” Sylvie asked.
“With pleasure, my child.”
Sylvie had prepared a light supper of baked fish, suitable for a convalescent. The three of them sat down to eat. Yvonne toyed with her food saying that with all the excitement of being home she didn’t really feel like eating much.
“Anyway, I want to have a talk with you, Sylvie,” she said as she laid her fork down.
“Oh dear, that sounds alarming,” said Sylvie, searching her mother’s face for a clue as to what the subject could be.
“Sylvie ... I was touched that you came back home from France as soon as you heard I was taken poorly. It shows you care and that you have a strong sense of family –”
“Maman, I love you so much and I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.”
“Chérie, it’s quite all right. The most important thing for a mother is to know that her child is happy. And I know you were happy in France.”
“How did you know, Maman? I didn’t write and tell you so; I don’t think I wrote to you much at all and I feel bad about that.”
Yvonne laughed. “Darling, that’s how I knew you were happy. If you had been unhappy, lonely or homesick, you would have been bombardin
g me with emails.”
Sylvie grinned. “I suppose so. It was lonely at first but I did have Lisa with me and we were both determined to make a go of it.”
“What I want to say, Sylvie, is that you are young, only twenty-one. It’s right that you keep a weather eye out for me, that’s honourable, but you don’t have to run your life at my convenience. I am fine. You don’t have to feel that I need you by my side all the time. You are free to go out into the world and have fun, do what you want to do, find a partner, have children.”
“Woah! Maman, you’re moving a little fast –”
“Sylvie,” the Prof interrupted. “From what you’ve been telling us, we can see you like the professional challenge of your work with the wolves in France but what about the reason you took the assignment in the first place? Do you think you’ve gotten over David?”
Sylvie felt her breath catch and the dreaded blush inched up her neck and flushed out over her cheeks.
“Chérie, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” said Yvonne, her voice soft and gentle.
“No, it’s OK, Maman. I’m over David, but I think there will be a sensitive spot on my heart for a long time to come.”
“It will heal over eventually, especially when you meet someone else and fall in love again.”
Sylvie looked at them both, her mother and her godfather, the two people in the world who loved her the most and wanted the best for her and the wall she had built around her feelings tottered and crumbled.
“I need to talk to you both so much. I’m confused and perplexed. Since I came back from France I’ve had no one to turn to. Lisa isn’t here and –”
“You can always talk to me, chérie, or the Prof here.”
Waking the Wolf (Coup de Foudre) Page 20