The next evening, Lucy organized a dinner at the Peking Palace with Laura and Dr. Henderson and his wife, and two other of Katherine’s former colleagues.
Katherine would always be grateful to Dr. Henderson for being the first to encourage her to return to France for her initial three-month exchange in Antibes.
“I’ve never forgotten how you and Susan inspired me to do it,” she said, hugging them both. “In fact, if I remember correctly, you not only encouraged, but I believe you insisted, Susan!”
Susan laughed her cheery, infectious laugh and wheeled her chair over to where Katherine could sit as well. “I was about to correct you there, Katherine! I would have put you on that airplane back to France myself if I had to! And look what has happened. Your entire life has changed. Now, let’s meet that lucky man who’s stolen your heart!”
Katherine looked around for Philippe, who was standing at the end of the table, absorbed in conversation with Laura and Lucy. Inspired by Katherine, Laura was excitedly explaining that she had just booked her first overseas trip. She was going to Paris with a women’s group and was asking Philippe to give her some sightseeing tips.
Katherine was about to interrupt, but Susan stopped her. “They look like they’re having a good chat, Katherine. Introduce Philippe to me later. In the meantime, let’s stay sitting here. I want to hear all about your new life in France. You’re living my dream, you know.”
“Oh Susan, you’re so well-traveled. Nothing has ever stopped you and Dr. H. from visiting far-flung places. I’ve always admired that.”
“You’re right. Travel has been our addiction since we were first married, no matter how difficult it became for me to get around. You have to be married to a special guy to do that, and of course, our whole family has pitched in to make some of our voyages such joyful experiences.”
Katherine reached over and hugged her again. “Your family inspires me.”
“Well, I have to admit that it gets more difficult each year as this damn illness progresses, but we’re not about to stop making plans and seeing them through as best we can.”
She took Kat’s hand in hers, and their eyes met. “Katherine, you are fortunate to be blessed with good health. Take advantage of that as you follow your own dreams. You never know when things might change. I don’t mean to sound pessimistic, just realistic. Seize the day, my dear, and count your blessings—and stay in touch with us.”
Katherine’s admiration for this woman knew no bounds. In spite of the increasing challenges Susan faced as time went on, Kat had never known her to complain or be anything less than cheery. She was a fine role model of the proper way to approach life and how to deal with the increasing challenges of multiple sclerosis.
Kat smiled warmly. “Thanks for those words of wisdom. I’ve been struggling with doubt and insecurity lately, so your message comes at the right moment. I hope you know your family has a standing invitation to visit us any time—as soon as the inn is ready. I’ll be sure to keep you posted.”
“I think we might just take you up on that! You know how we loved visiting that part of the world so many years ago. Say, Katherine, you should start a website so we can follow your progress.”
“That’s a great idea! In fact, I’ll get Molly to help me when she’s with us.”
The rest of the evening passed quickly. Philippe spent a lot of time fielding questions about life in France and his career as a fromager. He and Kat shared their plans for the future, and Philippe showed them all photos of the Cap property on his phone.
On the way home, he told Katherine how much he enjoyed her friends and that he looked forward to return visits. “In spite of the fact I’m speaking English nonstop!”
Molly continued to improve. The next step was to move her to a rehab center early the next week.
“How lucky is that?” Kat asked Molly when they discovered the facility was conveniently located within easy access of Kat’s house.
Tony continued to be a constant presence. Since their talk, Katherine told Philippe she felt much more comfortable calling him by his first name, as some of his priestly aura had given way to a less-ministerial persona. They invited him to have dinner with them on Friday night.
Andrea and Terence planned to come back to the city on the weekend so they could have a last visit with Katherine and Philippe.
Lucy and her cousin prepared to move into the house right after Katherine and Philippe vacated.
Boxes had been shipped in a crate to France, while a few were stored in the basement. Several loads had also gone to Goodwill. Katherine was increasingly crossing her emotional hurdles and feeling more content that “home” would be wherever she was.
She had been deeply touched by the emotion Philippe showed in arranging the shipment of Elisabeth’s carpet. He had insisted they have the carpet professionally handled by a top-notch Persian rug company. Once cleaned and carefully packaged, they had sent it by priority mail to Véronique and David to keep for them.
It all seemed to have happened so quickly. Even though Nick was making his way back to Australia in his private jet, he had offered to organize another for them.
Both Katherine and Philippe politely declined this time. They assured him they appreciated what he had done for them, but they didn’t feel right taking his charity when there was no emergency.
“You’re doing way more than anyone could imagine for Molly. That’s where it really counts right now,” Kat said, her eyes shining with conviction. “It’s time for us to get back to the real world.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“On our way home . . .” Katherine murmured as the plane lifted off.
Philippe took her hand. “Oui. Chez nous.”
“Chez nous—I love the sound of that. Home is wherever we are. I’m working on that.”
Philippe squeezed her hand and smiled. “You’re doing a good job. I believe you just might convince yourself. I already know it’s true.”
The simple fact she could fall asleep in her seat with his arm around her gave her peace. She reveled in that sensation before she felt it replaced by a new empowerment: the knowledge that they were truly committed to a future together. All she had to do was shake the insecurity that crept in at times.
When she had seen the early flight check-in details, Kat knew they were not going directly to Nice from Paris. The connecting flight Philippe had booked was two days later.
“There’s a little business I want to take care of not far from Paris. You and your camera will just have to tag along. Do you mind?”
From the twinkle in his eye, there was no mistaking Philippe was up to something. Kat recognized that look. She also knew she would have to be patient. The man she loved enjoyed his surprises.
They didn’t have to wait long for their luggage and were through to the car-rental desk quickly.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?”
Making a trumpetlike sound, Philippe announced, “There’s a saying, ‘La douceur de vivre est pour les amants’—the sweetness of life is for lovers. So get ready to taste that sweetness in”—he lowered his voice to a sultry level—“la vallée de la Loire and . . .”
Katherine’s excited words interrupted him. “The Loire Valley! I’ve always wanted to see that area and those châteaux! Oh, Philippe, how wonderful!”
He grinned with satisfaction. “Somehow I thought you would have that reaction. It’s only an hour and a half or so south of here, so why not. It’s a romantic place to celebrate the beginning of the rest of our life.”
Katherine beamed silently at Philippe for a moment. “You are amazing. That’s all. Just amazing.”
“This is going to be a quick look at the area. We’ll plan a longer trip for another time,” Philippe told her. “There are so many parts of my country I want to share with you. First we’re stopping near the town of Amboise to check into a hotel, and then we’ll drive about half-hour to the Château de Chambord. Here you go.” He handed her a Loire Valley travel book
.
Katherine happily absorbed the history, sharing snippets as they drove along.
The early-morning Paris traffic was stop-and-go. Commuters on cell phones mingled with a steady stream of trucks as kamikaze motorcyclists cut in and out with their own set of rules.
“You know, when we drive through these kind of surroundings, with apartments and commercial businesses and crazy traffic, I feel like we could be anywhere. It’s not Paris to me,” Katherine said, looking around.
“You’ve never forgotten the France you fell in love with as a young woman. Nothing was like this then. That’s why.”
Kat grinned. “I guess all those years of soaking in the bath and reliving my memories of six weeks in Villefranche-sur-Mer made me a hopeless romantic about France. Is that a bad thing? I know I’m not being realistic.”
Philippe looked serious for a moment. “Perhaps we all need to be a little more unrealistic about where we live? I’ve learned to love a lot about my surroundings since you came along and let me see things here through your eyes.”
Kat smiled and flipped her guidebook closed while Philippe continued talking.
“It’s not like you’re unaware of the politics or the societal problems and issues, but you choose to focus on the beauty around you, the small details, the history. You bring places to life for me. You would rather be in the vieille villes, or the historical centre ville, than in the newly developed areas.”
“You know, now that you mention it, I rarely go into the newer parts of Antibes or Nice. I wonder if that will change as time goes by. Am I living in fantasyland?”
Philippe shrugged. “What if you are?”
“If so, that’s exactly where I want to stay. I thought about it a lot while I was sitting with Molly. I like where I am in my life now.”
“So do I—like where you are in your life now,” Philippe said and they laughed.
Katherine buried her head back in the travel book. She was glad to learn where they were headed and, from time to time, she read details out loud.
“The main springs of the Loire bubble up in the Massif Central and the river changes a few times before it flows into the Atlantic Ocean in the northwest. It’s the longest river in France, and the vallée stretches for about two hundred eighty kilometers along the middle, lining the river with vineyards, orchards, and crops like artichokes and asparagus.”
“That’s true. Le jardin de la France, the garden of France. Or sometimes le berceau de la France, the cradle of France, because some consider it to be the true birthplace of French culture and language.”
Looking at a map, Kat said, “It says here that the easternmost region, the Berry, is the geographical center of the country. Another distinction!”
Philippe nodded but was still caught up in singing the praises of the Loire Valley. “To say nothing of its architectural heritage! We have nothing really in the south to compare to what you will see here. C’est unique!”
“And the south has its own particular beauty that you can’t find here, so it all evens out.”
Philippe grinned as he reached over and pinched her cheek lightly. “Seriously, I think you should take a job with France Tourisme. Who loves Provence and the Côte d’Azur more than you?”
The manufacturing and commercial buildings that dotted the A10 began to give way to vineyards, farmers’ fields, and thick forests still in their winter state of undress.
“This isn’t the prettiest time to visit this area, but we won’t have to worry about crowds of tourists,” Philippe remarked.
“And if the weather stays like this with such a bright-blue sky, the light will be perfect for taking photos,” Kat said.
Philippe pointed out a typical sightseeing sign that alerted drivers to historic sites or areas, with the graphic of a castle and the wording “Val de Loire.”
“Here we go, Minou. Get your camera ready, as if it isn’t already,” he said with a chuckle as they turned onto a secondary road. He found it amusing that she rode in the car with her camera on her lap, battery well charged, wherever they went.
“Can’t wait, but I’m confused,” Kat told him. “Why does that sign say ‘Val de Loire’? I know that val is masculine, so it would be Le Val de Loire . . . but my guidebook says ‘Vallée de la Loire,’ which is feminine for vallée. Why does the French language do this to me? Just when I think I am getting it, I’m not.”
Philippe chuckled and agreed there were more than a few exceptions to rules and just plain illogic in his language. “Either of those is right. Isn’t it nice to have a choice? But my interpretation is that Val de Loire is this specific part of La Vallée. Is that good enough?”
“Makes sense. So, Val de Loire it is.” Kat said, putting the book aside to enjoy the scenery. She picked up the map, resting it on her camera. “You know, as great as the GPS is, I still love to follow along on a road map. Somehow it helps to put it all in perspective for me.”
Philippe nodded. “Look to your right. Quick or you will miss it.”
Kat clicked on her camera and brought it to her eye. Ornate wrought-iron and gold gates indicated the entrance to a long driveway. Philippe checked that no one was behind them and slowed the car.
In the distance through the gate, Katherine could see a majestic sprawling château. The shutter clicked several times.
“It’s a little one that obviously belonged to lesser nobility,” he told her. “And still privately held, from the look of it. The big ones, of course, are mostly owned by the government now and open to the public.”
Katherine snorted. “Size is all relative, isn’t it?”
The road ran along the river. Suddenly, Katherine gasped. Dramatic pointed turrets on a massive castle roof appeared high up on the hill as they came around a bend. “We’re in Chaumont-sur-Loire.” Philippe said. “Isn’t that a beauty? I checked and it’s closed today, malheureusement.”
From the road below, Katherine snapped away as Philippe turned between the stone walls bordering the steep street. Thick, twisted stems of wisteria vines climbed the walls in several places, and Kat could imagine the frothy mauve display that spring would provide.
“Oh, promise me we’ll come back in spring! Maybe we can come here again when we visit Paris in April.”
“Bonne idée!” Philippe agreed. “The Val de Loire requires more than one visit.”
At the top of the hill, they parked the car near the château and got out to walk around and examine the building and grounds.
“The photos will be awesome, whether the château is open or closed. How dramatic! Imagine living with that in your neighborhood.”
Listening to the camera shutter click, Philippe teased Kat about running out of space on her chip. “That’s the beauty of digital,” she replied, without taking the camera away from her eye. “I can always delete, and as you well know, I always have an extra chip with me. Learned that lesson long ago!”
Back in the car, they drove out of the picturesque village and back to the road meandering along the river. The midday sun shone brightly, but the temperature remained cool along the water.
At the edge of the village, Philippe pointed out unusual-looking flat-bottomed boats with tall masts tied to docks. A sign read “Balade sur Loire” with a phone number. Three men bundled in heavy jackets and caps sat on a wall, smoking. An overturned barrel served as a table for a couple of thermoses and the inevitable wine bottle.
“They wouldn’t go out today, would they? Isn’t it too cold?”
“You never know—the sun is shining. Those boats are called toues, and there are still a handful of enthusiasts that keep the era of ancient boatmen alive. It’s very idyllic to see them sailing along the river on a warm sunny day. Want to go?”
“I’ll wait for the warm sunny day! But I’ll definitely take some photos of them.”
They pulled over, and Philippe strolled down to chat with the men while Katherine walked over to the boats.
Soon Philippe was beside her, followed by
the three men. “Katherine, meet some of the men of the Loire.”
The three nodded to her, each offering a “Bonjour, madame,” saying their names too quickly for her to catch. With Philippe translating, two of the men proudly used what English they knew to tell her how the same style of boats had been carrying people up and down the river for centuries.
The oldest fellow, who appeared to be in charge, puffed his chest out and stood a little taller as he assured Katherine, “Oui, madame. Tout au longue d’année, nous allons de l’aube à la nuit, tout au longue du jour.” The other two grinned broadly.
She was amazed they would go out every day, all year long, from dawn until nightfall.
Philippe said, “These men have a fleet of eight boats in full use in all seasons.”
“C’est la Loire qui en decide,” the grizzled, middle-aged member of the trio piped up. With a nod toward the river, he shared some strong words with Philippe. He hadn’t said anything in English but seemed to be following the conversation.
“The Loire decides if they go or not. Apparently this river has a mind of its own,” Philippe repeated. “They said it was surprising how some people want the experience even on a cool day. Spring and summer are most popular, though, with picnics on the sandbanks or small islands. The route is mainly between Chaumont and Amboise at this time of year.”
Katherine complimented the men on the simple beauty of the boats. Using gestures and words, all three indicated how the flat bottoms allowed them to easily go into difficult docking places. Philippe explained how the shifting currents created ever-changing sandbanks and long, sandy islands.
The next thing she knew, their new friends insisted on demonstrating how they handled the ropes to unfurl the single large sail and control the directions. “Nothing changed from 1600! Even before many châteaux were here!”
Beaming, Katherine asked if she could take the men’s photos with the boats, and they were only too willing to oblige. She admired their obvious pride and love of their vocation. This was France to her.
Once back in the car, Kat and Philippe continued along the road with the river on one side and rocky cliffs now on the other. They chuckled at how they had to politely refuse the men’s offer of a glass of wine, convincing them they were on a tight schedule. Their new friends seemed genuinely disappointed Kat and Philippe could not linger.
I Promise You This (Love in Provence Book 3) Page 16