Lessons in Love

by Yvonne Lehman

  Looking over at Noah’s interested expression she admitted, “I thought he might be thinking of a future with me.” This was different. She didn’t have that sweep of having been abandoned, but thought she had joined Noah in thinking beyond one’s self and to Michael, who needed help. “Now I wonder if it was just conversation. Or a plea for help.”

  If Michael did need help, he hadn’t turned to her. Maybe Noah was the one who could help him. She saw his kind blue eyes, warm, looking as if he longed to know more.

  “If I’m not being too personal,” Noah said, “did he think you would be receptive to a future with him?”

  She felt perfectly at ease and stated a fact in a light, jesting way. “If you’re too personal, I won’t answer.” She drew a deep breath. “Looking back,” she said, “I think my feelings changed from personal about us as a couple to caring about Michael’s health. It reminded me of having lost my mother to cancer and watching my grandmother’s health failing. I couldn’t even consider breaking up with him while he was ill.”

  Seeing that Noah stared at the floor, she had a realization about him. “I couldn’t do that,” she said softly, “any more than you can abandon him when he needs your help.”

  “It’s tempting,” he admitted, “to throw up one’s hands, say he’s an adult who makes his own decisions and can suffer the consequences.” He shook his head. “But is that what we’d want others to do with us, if we were in the wrong or hurting?”

  “Of course not,” she said. “That’s when we need others even more. I’m learning,” she said, “that you can associate with a person for quite a while and still not know what’s deep inside them.”

  Noah nodded. “Unless they’re willing to share.”

  She was not thinking about what she had lost but what Michael had lost. “Symon and Paul would have befriended him like they’re doing with you,” she said. “And Aunt B has a world of wisdom to share.”

  A wry smile touched Noah’s lips. “I agree. But Michael retreats instead of opening up. He pretends all is well until he can’t pretend anymore.”

  They sat in silence for a long moment. Then Megan mused aloud. “If he feels responsible about what happened to Loretta and if he wanted to break up with me, then he might have thought I couldn’t handle it.”

  “If he did, he doesn’t know what a strong woman you are.”

  “Strong?” She scoffed. “How can you say that?”

  “If he’d said he wanted to break up, what would you have said?”

  “Goodbye,” she answered without having to think.

  “And,” he said carefully, “if he said he wanted to break up because he had things in his life he wasn’t handling well?”

  She knew that answer, too. “I would have said I’d like to help.”

  “Exactly,” he said softly, his eyes warm and kind and rather sad.

  She thought she knew what that meant. What Noah had known all along.

  Something was going on that was bigger than holding a grudge because Michael wooed Loretta away from Noah. Bigger than Michael leaving Megan without an explanation.

  Bigger than how and in what way Megan and Noah might accept each other.

  Another human being needed help, and neither of them could take their relationship any further without considering Michael.

  Not that she had any intention of taking anything any further.

  Chapter 20

  They were all excited about Dr. Beauvais arriving in his private jet. Symon picked him up at the airport and deposited him at the cottage so he could freshen up after the long flight. Dinner was timed for soon after his arrival.

  Aunt B always looked as stylish as Megan and Lizzie, some of it attributed to Annabelle’s expertise gained through her modeling. But this evening Megan thought Aunt B was exceptionally beautiful and elegant in a simple black silk dress that she complemented well, thanks to her natural attributes and exercise equipment in the basement. Her amethyst jewelry matched the unusual color of her eyes, which was the same as Annabelle’s.

  Megan, Lizzie and Annabelle watched with her at an upstairs bedroom window for Dr. Beauvais to exit the cottage. Seeing Aunt B finger an earring, Megan thought she wasn’t as calm as she looked. “Nervous?”

  She exhaled a quivery breath. “Almost as shaky as when he came to take the baby I had to give up.”

  Their arms went around her. “You look perfect.”

  She nodded. “I’ve had years of practice. I can do this. Oh, my.”

  Their arms dropped as their eyes followed her gaze. A white-haired man in a dark suit was striding up the drive from the cottage. “Oooh là là,” Lizzie said. “He’s looks like a romantic Frenchman, if I ever saw one.”

  Annabelle huffed. “When did you ever see one?”

  “I read.”

  “We’d better go down,” Megan said.

  Aunt B nodded. “Let’s hope I don’t.”

  Megan watched her descend the stairs like a true lady in her three-inch black heels. Symon and Noah stood in the living room with Dr. Beauvais. Megan thought him an extremely good-looking man, tall with thick white hair and a handsome face. His dark brown eyes were warm and friendly.

  “Miss B,” Symon said, “may I present—”

  “We’ve met,” she said.

  “Mais oui. Bonsoir, madame.” He had a rich, deep, kind voice. “And I gave you something.”

  Her hand moved to her chest, obviously knowing what he meant.

  “I brought the matching one.” He held a little blue box. “I hope you don’t find this insensitive. We could do this in private. Or not at all.”

  Her face filled with longing. “My friends know all about it.” She took the box and lifted the lid. Gingerly moving the tissue to expose a tiny blue bootie, she exhaled audibly as her finger touched the item like a caress. She held the box out for the others to see.

  Looking around, she explained. “When they took my baby, one little foot stuck out from the blanket. I reached for it but his wife moved away. I guess she thought I was going to take Toby.” She glanced at Dr. Beauvais. “He took the bootie off and gave it to me.” Her breath caught. “After kissing Toby’s cheek, the bootie was all I ever had of my son.”

  Aunt B took a shaky breath while the others looked at the bootie. “I have the other one in a chest at the foot of my bed. It represented what I could never have. I also kept things from Symon, the son I adopted emotionally, in that room. The Lord gave me Symon.”

  Mutual affection showed on their faces and in their eyes. Aunt B closed the box. “Would you put this on the table over there?” she said, and Annabelle did. Aunt B stepped over to Dr. Beauvais and embraced him. “Merci beaucoup. Thank you. Nothing could please me more.”

  Megan suspected she’d forgotten everyone for a moment except Dr. Beauvais. “I brought photos,” he said, his eyes as emotional as hers.

  “We’ll look at them later. First, let’s have dinner and get acquainted.” She gave a little laugh. “Symon, would you make the introductions, please?”

  “Symon has already told me a lot about each of you, mes amies.” Dr. Beauvais planted a kiss on the back of Annabelle’s, Lizzie’s and Megan’s hand. He was a charming man and made them smile. Megan dared not look at Noah, lest he think his kiss on her hand had meant any more than this one, which was a friendly gesture.

  And of course it hadn’t. Her reaction had been different because the situation had been different. This was a pleasant first meeting with an older man expressing a cultural greeting. With Noah, it had marked the beginning of her accepting him on a professional and personal basis.

  There! With that settled in her mind, she followed along with the others to the dining room, where Dr. Beauvais and Willamina were introduced. Megan expected her to make some remark when he kissed her hand, bu
t she just glanced at her hand then at him, rolled her eyes and marched back into the kitchen.

  Aunt B, having become acquainted with Noah’s penchant for prayer, asked him to say the blessing. After the amen, she said, “Bon appetit.”

  They began to fill their plates with the lavish dinner from the sideboard, and Aunt B directed them where to sit. “Annabelle, you and Symon might sit across from Dr. Beauvais since you’ll be asking—”

  “Henri, s’il vous plait,” the handsome smiling man said, the lines fanning out from his dancing eyes and his white hair gleaming from the glow of the chandelier. He rather reminded Megan of how Noah might look in a few decades.

  Aunt B nodded and said, “Corabeth.” Then the two exchanged words in French and both smiled.

  Corabeth? Glancing around, Megan saw the shock resting on everyone’s faces, except Noah’s, whose eyes questioned. She leaned close and he tilted his head toward her. She explained, “She’s Aunt B or Miss B to everybody.”

  His eyes danced with light, reminding her of Michael’s teasing eyes that had appealed to her when she first saw him. But this wasn’t Michael and she shouldn’t be standing there looking at him, so she focused on the sideboard and walked toward it.

  “Does that make me Elizabeth?” Lizzie said, walking up to the French-speaking couple, who had seemed to forget they were in Savannah, Georgia and not Paris.

  “Whatever you want,” Aunt B said, actually looking like she’d dropped ten years from her age. She was a lovely woman. Megan just didn’t think of that often. She was just Aunt B.

  “Mercy,” Lizzie said. “Let’s keep it Lizzie.”

  Aunt B spoke gently. “I believe that’s merci.”

  Lizzie scrunched her face. “Not in my French class.” She began to tell about their escapades and how they had driven their teacher crazy.

  “We’d say merci as mercy and with a southern accent.” She exaggerated her natural accent as she continued with Je m’appelle being “my apple” and s’il vous plait becoming “silver plate.”

  Henri seemed delighted with Lizzie. “What about je vous aime?”

  “I try not to mess up the phrase about love.” She exhaled. “But love just doesn’t happen to me.”

  By that time they’d taken their seats. “Mon amie.” Henri turned his face toward Lizzie, sitting next to him and across from Megan, who was beside Annabelle. “You’re young. You have plenty of time.”

  “Well, I hope so.” Lizzie snapped her napkin, then laid it on her lap. “I haven’t had my heart flutter since I tackled Georgie in the sixth grade and kissed the tar out of him. I hope those days aren’t gone forever.”

  Symon added to the lighthearted chatter. “I was twenty-nine when Annabelle took over my heart and mind and feelings when I wasn’t supposed to even notice her. I mean, when love comes, it’s not a matter of maturity anymore. You just have to rein yourself in and remember Miss B is watching.”

  Annabelle laid her hand on Symon’s arm. “I fought it. Lied to myself. But Symon stole my heart against all my warnings. And resolve. Nothing worked.”

  “This just makes me sick,” Lizzie said. “Why can’t it happen to me before I get too old?”

  “Oh, now, hold on there, mon amie,” Henri said. “Not that I’m old, but I have been around for several decades. I lost my first wife and thought I’d never love again. But it sneaked up on me. Now I’ve lost my second wife and believe me, I know how moonlight, and candlelight, and roses, and perfume, and good cooking can be all wrapped up in another person. You just don’t get too old for—” he kissed his fingers and held them up in the air “—love.”

  Megan thought that was supposed to be typical of an Italian rather than a Frenchman, but it sounded romantic anyway. His accent was delightful.

  “Then there’s hope?” Lizzie said.

  “You bet,” Henri said.

  Megan looked at Aunt B, who wore her tranquil, poised expression, though a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Just as Aunt B was looking at her plate, Megan didn’t feel like looking directly at...anybody, either. So she spoke to Lizzie. “Maybe you and I should move to Paris.”

  Lizzie grinned as if she knew some kind of secret, and the slant of her green eyes narrowed more than SweetiePie’s ever did. “Not yet. You have B and B renovations to plan.” Most likely everyone at the table other than Henri and Noah knew she had an underlying meaning.

  “Speaking of homes, Henri,” Aunt B said. “Symon says you have a lovely villa. I’d love to hear about it.”

  “It’s located in the Loire Valley,” he began. His voice was deep and musical. His descriptions expressed his love for his home. He spoke of the beautiful river that gave the valley its name. He painted a word picture of vineyards, wine estates, cathedrals, castles, hot-air balloons and bike trails.

  “Oh,” Annabelle said accusingly to Symon. “That’s why you want to honeymoon there. So you can write about it.”

  “You guessed it,” he said. “Maybe you shouldn’t tag along.” She swatted his arm with the back of her hand and they exchanged those loving looks again.

  “It is a rather fairy-tale existence,” Henri said. “In fact, the author of Sleeping Beauty found his inspiration there for the story.”

  He touched on the history, from kings to courtesans, Henry II, Joan of Arc and Leonardo da Vinci who lived near the Loire Valley. “Corabeth,” he said then, “I’ve heard your city has a great history. Perhaps you will share that with me while I’m here.”

  She discreetly touched her lips with her napkin. “I’d love to,” she replied.

  Megan met Noah’s quick glance. They stared a moment then grinned, and she had to put her napkin over her mouth to keep from laughing. So much for Noah or Megan telling Dr. Beauvais all about Savannah’s history.

  When Aunt B refused dessert, Henri glanced at her plate, leaned back and said, “I couldn’t eat another bite. This is a fantastic meal. Please tell Willamina—”

  “What?” Willamina stood in the doorway. “That Paris don’t have nothing over southern cooking?”

  He laughed heartily. “Exactly.”

  “Mercy,” she said, and they all laughed.

  Henri took a deep breath and became serious when Aunt B said, “We might look at the photos now.”

  “The briefcase is on the table in the foyer,” Symon said.

  Aunt B and Henri left the room as Willamina began setting desserts on the sideboard. “Banana pudding,” Noah mused when he walked over and picked up a dessert dish. “Now this is like coming home for sure.”

  “My choice, too,” Megan said.

  He handed her the dish and picked up another for himself. “Thanks.” She glanced over her shoulder then turned back and spoke softly. “This is so amazing. Aunt B gave birth to Toby. Dr. Beauvais raised him until he died at age eleven. So those two are Toby’s mom and dad.”

  “Amazing, too,” Noah said, “that she’s so open about it.” He took a bite of the banana pudding and moaned with delight.

  They returned to their places at the table along with the others, and after a bite of the moan-deserving dessert, Megan said, “It could have turned out differently. Aunt B has said she could have chosen to hate her parents instead of forgiving them.”

  Symon put in, “And if she hadn’t disclosed her secret about giving up the baby, she and I wouldn’t have the wonderful relationship we do.”

  “Yes,” Annabelle added, “and you wouldn’t have gone to Paris to find out about Toby. And Henri wouldn’t be here now.”

  “And too,” Symon added, “we might not be planning a honeymoon at a villa in the Loire Valley.”

  “And Aunt B wouldn’t have turned into Corabeth,” Lizzie quipped, then sighed heavily. “My life stays the same while all those unexpected things happen to everyone else. All those ifs.” She
turned her face toward Noah. “Let’s not leave you out. If Megan hadn’t forgiven you for spying on her, you wouldn’t have the cottage job or the B and B job or know Symon and Paul.” She grinned and batted her eyelashes. “Or me.”

  She had to add Megan. “And if Michael hadn’t left, you and Noah probably wouldn’t be friends.”

  The accepting smile Megan felt form on her face vanished when she looked across at Noah, who stared at his pudding then glanced around at the others. “Speaking of leaving, that’s something I want to talk about. Around the time you return from your honeymoon,” he said, looking at Annabelle and Symon, “I plan to leave for the Bahamas, but—” He held up a hand. “I’m getting ahead of myself. I need to tell everyone, including Miss B. and Henri, since he will be staying at my home.”

  Megan looked down. She knew Lizzie was staring at her. Annabelle and Symon acknowledged his disclosure, then began talking about something else.

  Megan felt the sting of abandonment again. Was Noah like Michael, leaving unfinished business?

  Maybe it was a family trait.

  Just when she thought they’d become friends, had an unspoken understanding. She trusted him. She’d decided Michael’s abandonment had not been because of her, but because of his own problems.

  She could trust Noah. She’d come to like him. She wanted to be around him. And now he would leave.

  Maybe their talking about Hawaii gave him the idea of the Bahamas. Likely he wasn’t going alone.

  Well, that was not her business. He was not her business. And if she were a vindictive woman, neither would her B and B have anything to do with his business.

  She studied her spoon, stirring her pudding.

  It seemed to have lost its flavor.

  Chapter 21

  Nothing else was mentioned about Noah’s announcement during the following days. Megan told herself there was no need to bring it up. He had his own life. He could do as he pleased.

  Even Lizzie refrained from any insinuations or outright statements. When Megan said, “Maybe you and I should go to Paris after all,” Lizzie shook her head and said, “I thought I had discernment. I’ve got to reexamine my discernment.”