by Chloé Duval
The owners were a smiling elderly couple who welcomed us effusively and led us straight to our room—one for me and Rom, and the other that Erwan and Gwenn would share. We agreed to freshen up and meet on the terrace a few minutes later.
Gwenn and Erwan were already waiting when Rom and I came down. I sat between the two men and took out my phone.
“Ready?” I asked Erwan.
He nodded.
“Here we go.” My heart was pounding and my hands shook slightly as I dialed Amélie’s number.
“Ms. Lacombe? This is Flavie Richalet speaking.”
“Hello, Flavie. How are you?”
“Very well, thank you. What about you?” I said politely.
“Just fine, thank you.”
“I’m calling to tell you that I’ve just arrived in Valensole, and if you’re available, I’m free for the day.”
“Well, I’m off in a couple of hours.” She paused. “Why don’t we meet up somewhere?”
“I would love that!” I fought to keep the excitement out of my voice.
“Do you know where the town hall is?”
“Yes.”
“There’s a little park just behind the building, nice and shady. It’s very comfortable when the weather is as hot as it is today. Shall we meet there in . . . say . . . two and a half hours?”
“That would be perfect! I’m wearing a pink dress.”
“I’m wearing red, and I’ll have a notebook in my hand.”
“Duly noted! Until later, then,” Flavie concluded.
“Precisely.”
I waited for her to hang up, then slowly lowered my phone, my eyes on Erwan. “This is it. We’re meeting in two and a half hours in the park behind the town hall.”
* * *
Two hours later, we moved into place. Everything had been set up so we could watch Amélie arrive without giving ourselves away. Or, well, without giving Erwan away. I was to walk up to her first, then discreetly slip away as soon as Erwan showed himself. I was slightly ill at ease with such a setup, but this was for a good cause, so their reunion would be even more wonderful than I hoped it would be. No, I knew it would be magical. There simply was no other way. This story could only have a happy ending.
We had rehearsed everything, timed it to the minute. Only one thing was still missing—our guest of honor.
Minutes felt like hours. I could barely imagine what must be going through Erwan’s mind and heart. Anxiety. Impatience. Fear. Love.
At last, Amélie appeared around the bend in the path. She strolled closer at a calm, leisurely pace, entirely unaware of what awaited her. She was tall and beautiful. Her gray hair was still streaked with red and she was magnificent, plain and simple. She had the grace of a ballerina, the poise of an aristocrat, the beauty of a goddess. I chanced a quick glance at Erwan, whose eyes were riveted to her, his entire body stock-still, transfixed.
Amélie sat on a bench and opened her handbag, drawing out a small notebook she began to doodle in. I waited a few minutes, until the clock struck half past six, then I stepped out of the shadows and made my way toward her.
“Ms. Lacombe?”
She looked up, taking in my pink dress with her green eyes, and smiled. “Ms. Richalet, I presume?”
“You presume well.” I extended a hand. “But please call me Flavie.”
“All right. I’m Amélie.”
Her grip was gentle but firm. I couldn’t believe I was standing in front of her. Just like with Erwan, I had dreamed of this moment for so long that it had become slightly surreal—but so very exciting. In a few minutes, I was going to reunite Erwan and Amélie!
I carefully sat next to her, and she turned toward me, facing away from Erwan, Rom, and Gwenn, whose gazes I could feel upon us.
“Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me out of the blue. You cannot imagine the lengths I went to in order to find you.”
“It must be a very important letter for you to go so far out of your way to return it to me,” she commented, eyebrows raised.
“It is.”
“Well? What’s this about, then?”
“As I told you over the phone, I received a letter addressed to you. It was mailed in 1971.”
“It certainly took its sweet time arriving!” Amélie sounded amused.
“It sure did!”
“You’re making me curious. Who could have written me back in 1971 who was so important that you’d come all this way to tell me?”
“Someone who loved you very much. Actually, someone who loved you, period. And to tell you the truth . . . he insisted on bringing it himself.”
And as I spoke the words, I looked up toward Erwan, who had stepped forward, letter in hand. Amélie turned around and froze. Slowly, she got to her feet.
“Erwan,” she breathed.
“Hello, Amélie,” he said gently.
I tiptoed away to join Romaric and Gwenn, leaving Erwan and Amélie face-to-face to try to bridge the forty-five year gap that lay between them.
* * *
She hasn’t changed a bit, Erwan thought, sitting beside her. She was still devastatingly beautiful, and he found himself short of breath the way he had been back then. Four decades had passed, but his love for her was as strong, as deep, and as everlasting as it had always been.
His heart pounded in his chest. He wouldn’t have thought that at over sixty years of age, he could still feel the same fear, the same anxiety as he had in his youth. The rest of his life was going to be decided here during the next few minutes, and he was as frightened as a child.
“I didn’t expect you,” Amélie admitted.
“I know.”
She looked astounded. He would have been too, had he been in her place. But she had recognized him at once. That could only mean that she had not forgotten him over the years.
“It’s been so long,” she ventured.
“Forty-five years.”
“Forty-five years,” she agreed. “Next month.”
Had she counted the years and the months too?
A wave of hope swept over him.
“I waited for you.” There was sadness in her voice. Pain, and a hint of reproach too. “You never came.”
“I know.”
“I got married.”
“I know. I was there. You were gorgeous. You looked like a fairy princess in your wedding gown.”
She’d always been his princess. His fairy.
“You were there?” She frowned. “But . . .”
“I hid under a porch. I was too late.”
Could she feel his pain? Could she guess how much he regretted arriving too late? He would have given anything to go back and erase history, to write a new story for the both of them.
“You didn’t keep your promise,” she admonished gently. “You didn’t write, or come back, even though you had promised to. I suffered because of you. You broke my heart with silence.”
“But I did write, Amélie.”
He extended the letter.
She gazed down upon it for a long while before she carefully opened the envelope and delicately tugged the letter out, unfolded it, and started to read. Erwan kept silent, taking in the sight of her. For several long seconds, she remained still, her eyes riveted to the paper. A single tear ran down her cheek and she brushed it away.
Then she raised her eyes, and he could read the question in her shimmering gaze.
“You never received it. But Flavie did, a few weeks ago. Far too late.”
It’s never too late, Flavie’s voice whispered in his head.
“You did write,” Amélie choked out, her throat tight with emotion.
It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.” Erwan exhaled. “I asked you to marry me. And when you didn’t answer, I tried to call you. Your mother came to the phone. She . . . she didn’t know who I was. I can’t tell you how it hurt that you didn’t tell them about me. But I gave her my address and phone number, and pleaded with her to give them to you. And
once again, I waited for you to answer, for a long time. A very long time. Too long, in fact, long after it had become too late.”
Amélie froze.
“That was you?”
“What do you mean?” Erwan frowned.
“When I came home for Christmas that year, I scrounged up the courage to ask my mother if anyone had called or written. I hadn’t lost hope, despite your silence—or, well, what I thought was your silence.”
She let out a sigh, her eyes on the ground.
“I know . . . I know I should have told them about you sooner, but . . . communication with them was difficult at that time. That was why I left for Paris. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I managed to convince them to let me go to that school, but . . . I knew they wouldn’t approve of you being a stonemason, so I didn’t say anything.”
“You never told me that,” Erwan said.
Even after all this time, it still hurt to hear that he would never have been good enough for her parents. But at least now he understood.
“No. I didn’t want to spoil what we had. You were my escape, Erwan. My escape from real life. I loved you with all my heart, and I didn’t want to hurt you.
She paused and when she started talking again he could feel the regret in her voice.
“I ended up hurting you anyway.”
“All that is in the past now. What . . . what did your mother say when you asked if I had called?” he asked, hesitating, afraid of hearing the answer.
“She said that indeed, someone had called, but when she looked for it, she couldn’t find the paper where she’d taken down the details. She had always been a bit of a scatterbrain and maybe she had just thrown out the paper without realizing it. She did, however, remember the name quite well.”
She paused. Erwan hung on very word, waiting for her to go on.
“Antoine. That’s what she told me. I thought that the world was crumbling around me. I had hoped that you were my mysterious caller. I don’t think I’ve ever been so disappointed.”
“Antoine,” Erwan repeated.
They had been so close to finding each other again! To think that a simple misunderstanding could keep them apart for so many years . . .
He had to wonder what God they had offended in a former life to pay such a price now.
“If I had known it was you—” Amélie began. She stopped and looked down.
“What would you have done, if you had known it was me?” Erwan asked shyly.
“I would have tried to find you,” she confessed. “I—I wouldn’t have given up so soon.” She took a deep breath, as though to brace herself for what she was about to say, and went on without looking at him. “I never tried to find you, Erwan, because I was convinced you had forgotten me. That I was only one of your conquests.”
“Never. Not for a minute.”
Amélie glanced up, and their eyes met.
“I never forgot you for a single second, Amélie. Even now, there is not a day that passes that I don’t think of you, regret I didn’t fight harder for you, and that I didn’t carry you away from that church and stop you from marrying that man. And if I had known all of this before, if I had had even the slightest inkling that you hadn’t received my letter or heard of my phone call, if I had been aware that you were divorced, I would never have waited this long. Believe me, I would have been here on my knees, begging you to forgive me for being such an idiot, for not telling you how much I cared for you, for not showing that you were—that you still are—the woman of my dreams.”
Tears spilled from Amélie’s eyes.
“You’re not the only one at fault here, Erwan,” she murmured, never taking her eyes off him. “I have my share of responsibility in this mess. I didn’t trust you enough, didn’t trust our love. I should have fought harder for you too.”
“It’s not too late,” Erwan said.
He cupped Amélie’s face in his hands, gently resting his forehead against hers. “I love you, Amélie. I have loved you since the day we met.”
“Me too, Erwan,” she whispered. “I love you. I have loved only you. I tried to make myself forget you, I even got married, but I was fooling myself. Nothing could ever erase you from my memory, or from my heart.”
Erwan thought his heart would burst out of his chest for joy.
“Then give me another chance, Amélie. Give us a chance to be happy again.”
* * *
Erwan and Amélie talked for a long time. I curled up in Romaric’s embrace, his hand gently stroking my arm, and kept an eye on them. The longer the conversation carried on, the more relaxed Amélie became, tension flowing out of her body. She shifted imperceptibly closer to Erwan, and I saw a tear roll down her cheek when she finally read the letter, forty-five years after it had been meant to reach her. So many years lost and wasted, I thought then.
But the past is in the past, and it cannot be changed. We can only do our best so our future holds no regrets.
After what felt like an eternity, I saw Erwan reach out to cradle Amélie’s face between his hands and bring their foreheads together—a gesture he had in common with Romaric. He said something, Amélie whispered something back, and it was as though the sun lit Erwan up from inside. He kissed her slowly, gently, reverently, as though she were the most precious thing in the universe. I turned my gaze away, trying to preserve their intimacy. This moment was for them, and them alone.
A few more minutes went by before Amélie and Erwan came over to join us, hand in hand.
We rose as they drew closer.
“Romaric, Gwenn, I’d like to introduce you to somebody,” Erwan said shyly. He turned to Amélie and went on. “Amélie, these are Gwenn and Romaric, my niece and nephew and adopted children. And you already know Flavie. Rom, Gwenn . . . this is Amélie. My Amélie.”
“Erwan, I’m so happy for you both!” I exclaimed as I hugged him. “After all these twists and turns, fate finally brought you back together!”
“Well, you gave fate a bit of a nudge,” Gwenn teased me, elbowing me gently. “Amélie, I’m so glad to meet you at last,” she added, embracing her.
“Thank you! I’m very glad to meet you too. And . . . thank you for bringing Erwan back to me,” she said as she turned to me and embraced me.
I hugged her back. “You’re welcome,” I murmured. “You’re very welcome.”
And as I watched Erwan and Amélie take turns hugging Gwenn and Romaric, their faces radiant with joy, a thought crept unbidden across my mind. My father had been right—nothing is forever, and you should never give up.
Erwan and Amélie were living proof of this.
* * *
“You were right,” Romaric told me that evening as we walked hand in hand through the lavender fields.
We’d left Erwan at Amélie’s place after dinner, aware that they still had many things to share and that they probably didn’t want “the children” hanging around while they talked. Amélie had invited us over, and time had simply flown by in a whirlwind of laughter, jokes, and stories. For once I had listened rather than participated in the conversation. I had held myself a little apart, watching as a family came together, and I realized that Chantale was right. Amélie was a wonderful person. She was kind and considerate, and truly interested in other people. Despite being over sixty, she was stunningly beautiful, and young at heart. I had loved listening to her speak of her fashion line and her creations. She had blushed when admitting that my intuition was right—the K in her designer brand did stand for Kermarrec.
“But officially, I told everyone it was a reference to the town I came from,” she had explained.
She’d told us about the life she’d lived for over forty years, about the amazing experiences she’d had, detailing her trip around the world after her divorce, to find herself again. And judging from the looks Erwan had given her, I hadn’t been the only one enthralled by her stories.
Amélie was also an excellent cook; she hadn’t had much difficulty in convincing us to stay for
dinner. She’d firmly turned down offers to help and disappeared into her kitchen, and in no time at all, she’d whipped up a delicious meal, complete with a mouthwatering dessert, and even unearthed a bottle of rosé to go with the food.
As soon as the last drop of coffee had disappeared and the last dish had been washed, Gwenn and I shared a look and, suspecting that they still had a lot to catch up on suggested Erwan stay at Amélie’s while we went back to the bed-and-breakfast, offering to come and pick him up in the morning. He’d accepted, and I couldn’t help but find the light blush spreading over his cheeks endearing. After all these years, Erwan still had some of his natural shyness.
We had left them to their privacy and returned to the bed-and-breakfast. Gwenn had shut herself in her room to call her boyfriend while Rom and I went for a walk.
“It happens fairly often,” I told him with exaggerated smugness. “I’m a teacher, it’s an occupational hazard. What exactly was I right about, this time?”
I trailed a hand through the lavender bushes, then raised it to my face, inhaling the sweet scent that clung to my skin.
“It would have been a mistake not to come.”
I kept silent. I knew it had been a hard road for Rom and that he had needed some time to acknowledge the fact that this was the best thing for Erwan.
“I’ve never seen him so happy,” he added.
“All’s well that ends well.” I sighed.
“Not quite.”
He stopped in his tracks and turned to face me. “There’s something we should talk about.”
My heart started pounding like a drum. “Yes?” I squeaked, trying to mask the fear that lurked in my gut.
“I know that what we have is still very new. That we haven’t been seeing each other for long, that it’s too early yet to make plans. We should take our time. But—”
He paused, and my breath came a little easier. Just a tad, mind you. “But?”
“Flavie, I’m in love with you. I’m in love with your smile, with your eyes, with the kindness you show to those around you. I’m in love with your humor, with your joie de vivre, your enthusiasm, your insatiable curiosity. I’m in love with your body, with your lips. I love you. I don’t know what we can do yet, but I do know that the last two weeks without you have been unbearable, empty and gray. The days were bleak because you weren’t there. I missed you, Flavie, I missed you so much! More than I can say. I know this is moving too fast, that it’s probably too early for you, but—”