The young couple offered a viable argument about the negatives of taking on such a challenge, based on experiences of relatives and other friends living in such villages.
“It’s not as romantic as tourists have a tendency to think.”
“My head tells me you are undoubtedly right,” Katherine agreed, “but my heart wants to think otherwise.”
Matt added, “Y’all know this is my first trip overseas, and I think it’s cool here—even though everything is so old. I mean, duh, of course it is. I like it too, but I don’t think I’d want to live here.”
They were all noticeably quieter on the return trip—tired but happy, as Matt said—and he suggested they go out together for dinner.
Lucille and Hubert had dinner reservations in Bonnieux. Although they offered to see if two more guests could be added, Katherine declined. She felt a strong desire for a long soak in the tub and then a quiet meal at the inn.
Matt suggested she join him to eat and she politely agreed, although in truth she would have preferred the evening to herself.
“Meet you at 7:30 in the bar?” he asked.
Katherine nodded and left for her room.
Matt was sitting in the bar when Katherine arrived, and she suspected he had begun without her. Ordering a Ricard, she took a satisfying sip of the refreshing anise-flavored drink and settled into a comfortable tub chair.
“That’s one drink I’ve never particularly liked,” Matt commented.
“I first tasted pastis over thirty years ago when I spent six weeks at an immersion school on the Riviera,” Katherine told him. “I didn’t like it the first time, but I slowly developed a taste for it. Now I love it, probably because it makes me think of France!”
Matt was drinking scotch, and he had two more while Katherine nursed her drink. Just after eight, they were told their table was ready. Feeling as if she had been eating her way through the last two days, Katherine decided to simply have the sole meunière. Matt ordered rack of lamb. Through dinner they chatted amiably about life in France, as they saw it, compared to life in North America. She already knew he was married with two grown children, and he knew she was divorced with no children. He had called her Kathy once more in the morning, and she had politely explained that no one called her that. He had said she could call him Matty if she wanted, and they had both laughed at that.
He was a nice enough guy, just a bit loud and opinionated, she had decided. He was certainly thoughtful about driving them around and seemed to appreciate the sightseeing as much as everyone.
Lucille and Hubert, after years in Paris, were more jaded about their culture. Katherine had enjoyed their company today, sharing opinions and experiences.
When Kat had first joined him this evening, Matt politely consulted with her about the wine list and ordered a bottle of Pouilly-Fuissé to accompany dinner. Very nice. The fact that he proceeded to drink most of it, not so much.
As the meal progressed, he became more flirtatious, making the odd comment with less than subtle sexual innuendo. To a point, Katherine was mildly pleased having dinner with a man who appeared to appreciate her, but little warning bells were going off, and it seemed like a good time to end what really had been a lovely day. Ordering a decaf cappuccino, Katherine decided to skip dessert, and Matt agreed that was a wise move. He ordered a cognac instead, and his slurring became more noticeable. Not wanting to appear rude, Katherine lingered just long enough over her decaf before saying she absolutely had to get to bed. This had caused his eyebrows to rise in a salacious manner, which Katherine chose to ignore, but he had remained a gentleman as he stood to say goodnight and walked her to the lobby.
“Let’s be American tonight,” he said, leering, as he swooped Katherine into a hug. She turned her head just in time as he landed a sloppy kiss on her cheek and released her, much to her relief. Katherine wasn’t certain what to do, so she smiled and touched his arm as she thanked him for dinner, which he had insisted he pay for.
“This was a lovely day, Matt, and you were very kind to drive us around. It was good fun.”
“It certainly was,” he agreed, stumbling back slightly.
Katherine took advantage of that to head to her room, turning back to wave, which gave a certain note of finality to the evening. She would see the group over breakfast in the morning and say her good-byes then. As she closed her door, she blew out a sigh and wondered if she had overreacted to his behavior. It had been so long since she had even considered being in a situation like this, she wasn’t sure she was really thinking clearly.
Standing at the balcony railing, she looked out over the pool, now deserted and washed with moonlight along with the fading glow from the garden torches. The air was hot, much more so than the evening before, and an impulsive idea took over. Changing into her bathing suit and robe, she decided she wasn’t going to miss this opportunity.
As she walked quietly through the bar and out to the terrace, she noted that no one else was about. Going to the far end of the pool, she draped her robe over a chaise and slipped into the still water. Submerging, she swam underwater to the other end and then glided back and forth in laps, doing a smooth, silent breaststroke. The moonlight bathed her. Absolute silence surrounded her, with the exception of the small ripples of water as she swam effortlessly.
At some point she became aware that the garden torches had gone off completely.
Probably on timers, she thought.
Even though the garden was dark, the main rooms of the inn still glowed. Katherine thought it was probably about time she went in, but lingered at the deep end for a few minutes. Resting her chin on her crossed arms on the pool edge, she let her gaze float through the gardens and olive grove and up to the star-studded night sky.
Magic, she sighed.
A sudden movement of water startled her, and she realized she was no longer alone.
“Don’t worry. It’s just your pal Matty,” she heard as she turned to look behind her. Seeing him already chest deep in the pool, she shook her head with annoyance.
“Well, you did give me a start,” Katherine scolded.
“You looked so lonely out here, I thought I should keep you company.”
“Nope! Not lonely at all. I was enjoying the peace and quiet.”
By this time Matt had reached the end of the pool and was leaning on the edge beside her.
“You’re right,” he said. “It is peaceful . . .” He hiccupped. “Uh . . . excusez-moi, I think that last beverage did me in.”
“Time for me to go in,” said Katherine, hiding an uneasy feeling. She began to swim to the shallow end, adding, “But do stay and enjoy this.”
Matt swam alongside her, causing her to move closer to the edge of the pool. As soon as she could touch bottom, she stopped to pull herself out of the water. Before she could, he was behind her, his arms trapping her on either side.
“C’mon Kathy, don’t be in such a hurry. This is the perfect place for romance.”
He ran his lips roughly over the back of her neck and locked his hands over hers so she couldn’t find the leverage she needed to get out.
For a moment, Katherine was completely panic stricken, then sickened.
How the hell can he be so ignorant . . . so presumptuous?
Keeping her cool despite the flash of panic, Katherine said resolutely, “Don’t be ridiculous! You’re a married man and there’s nothing between us.”
With a bit of a snort he said, “Married, shmarried. Didn’ we have a beautiful day together?” Pressing into her back, he added, “And there’s somethin’ between us now.”
To her horror, Katherine realized he was naked and ready for action as he rubbed his hardness against her.
Her stomach tightened and her pulse began racing. This was not a good situation. He was drunk and he was strong. His hands had moved to her shoulders now, slipping the straps of her bathing suit down. He had her arms firmly in his grasp, so getting out was still impossible.
Her mind rac
ed.
Fear enveloped her.
Screaming seemed like the only solution. Do I worry about being embarrassed in a situation like this? What is stopping me?
She couldn’t believe he would really go through with taking her by force. Then she realized she was more angry than scared.
“Matt, be reasonable. Think about what you are doing,” she demanded, as her anxiety morphed into strength. “This is crazy.”
He was talking nonsense now and drunker than she had realized. “Crazy . . . I’m crazy about you. You’re a shpessshul lady . . .”
“I’ll scream if you don’t let me go.”
“Oh yeah, baby, I’ll make you scream with pleasure,” he slurred, breathing disgusting fumes into the air and grinding his erection into her buttocks.
A thought crossed her mind. She decided to go for it.
“Let me turn around,” she said with a softer tone.
He loosened his grip on one arm and she turned, not caring that her suit was around her waist.
She leaned forward as if to kiss him and put her hands on his shoulders. Cupping his hands around her breasts, he relaxed as he moved to respond to her lips. Tightening the hold on his shoulders, which she hoped he would interpret as passion, she raised her knees, pushed back with her hands, and kicked her feet into his stomach with all the force she could muster.
Falling backward, he submerged briefly.
Katherine pulled herself out of the pool faster than she had ever thought possible. Grabbing her robe and holding it against her exposed chest, she raced across the terrace, tears streaming.
Pulling the key from her pocket in spite of her shaking hands, she was safely in her room when her anger exploded.
“What an asshole!” she said out loud. “Asshole, asshole, asshole . . .” she repeated as she stepped out of her bathing suit and stomped into the shower.
Shaking with a mix of powerful emotions, Katherine burst into tears as she willed the steaming hot water to wash off the stain of the uninvited touch, the sense of violation and betrayal.
Katherine tossed around all that night, unable to stop thinking of the incident and pondering why some men were guided by their dicks, as Molly would say. She was certain she had not led Matt on in any way.
The thought never crossed my mind! I didn’t behave any differently to him than I did to anyone else here.
Yet somehow this man, a virtual stranger on the one hand but accepted as a friend on the other, had no qualms about assaulting her.
Goddamit! It was frightening, insulting, infuriating! . . . I’m proud of the way I handled the fear. Thank Christ my idea worked.
She was up early, feeling completely disquieted.
“Note to self,” she muttered as she packed up her bag and slammed it shut, “let this be a reminder I have no need for a man in my life.”
21
By 7:00 a.m. Katherine had paid her bill and thanked the owner, who was up to see off the departing guests.
She debated reporting the pool incident but felt she could prove nothing; it was her word against his. She knew the woman was always suspected of “asking for it.” Who would care?
Matt’s inexpensive rental car was parked next to hers by the tall hedge at the end of the small gravel lot.
Placing her bag in her backseat, she opened the driver’s door and began to slide in when she was suddenly overcome with a memory: her revenge on James’s bike and the satisfaction she gained from it.
Making sure she was alone, Katherine quickly crouched between the cars. Unscrewing the top of the tire valve on Matt’s rear tire, she jammed small stones into it and listened for the release of air.
Hurray for gravel lots . . . there was no shortage of small, pointy pebbles.
Peeking up slowly to ensure no one was about, she crouched down again and moved to the remaining tires, repeating her actions as quickly as her trembling hands would allow.
As she drove away from the inn, a smirk forced its way onto her face while a thought repeated itself: I can’t believe I did that.
Soon she was on her way “home,” finding it hard to believe her happy interlude had come to such a distressing end. The episode had consumed her during the night, and she wanted to banish it. Emptying those tires had helped.
I refuse to let it spoil everything else, she thought, pursing her lips and scrunching her face in frustration. He was a stupid guy who had too much to drink and made a very bad decision. I won’t forget it . . . but I will get over it.
Not only had she been delighted with the villages she visited, but Mirella had been right: the drummer boy statue in Cadenet had been worthy of a stop, and the hotel had been a dream, to say nothing of the cuisine. Everyone she met had been so interesting and pleasant until . . .
She shook her head and knew this was not going away so easily.
Robotically, she followed the GPS for some time, until the beauty around her once more worked its magic. The plane trees she was so fond of stood like sentinels along the narrow roads as the early morning light filtered through the leaves. Eventually she felt herself regain a sense of security.
In Sainte-Mathilde, she joined the lineup for baguettes, bought some pain au chocolat (This morning calls for chocolate, she thought) and exchanged a few bon dimanche greetings.
Instant therapy greeted her when she arrived at the farmhouse as Picasso bounced excitedly by the car door. Katherine knelt on the gravel, ignoring the sharp pebbles digging into her knees, and hugged him before he flopped over on his back for a tummy rub.
This is love, she thought, pure and simple, without threat, without demands.
Wandering around the house before she went out to the garden to enjoy her breakfast, she relished the sense of belonging. After just a week, the familiarity of these surroundings felt right. Her thoughts turned to Andrea as a feeling of gratitude washed through her.
Placing her pain au chocolat on a plate and pouring a glass of juice, she settled happily at the small round table on the back terrace, as she did most mornings. Bees buzzed around the lavender in the early sun, reminding her to buy a few jars of the local lavender honey to take home. She had sampled some in the kitchen and savored the delicately sweet flavor.
Glistening with sweat after a yoga session, she showered and dried her hair before she dressed in a favorite cotton sundress. Coming midway down her calves, pale yellow with delicate straps, it made Katherine feel cool just looking at it. She picked up a lightly woven silk shawl of cream and butter shades to take along in case she needed some protection from the sun. Her wide-brimmed hat from the market would be the final touch.
She knew James had liked her in this dress and thought fleetingly about that now. She had been determined not to toss out her entire wardrobe purely because some items carried such memories.
Ridding herself of the thought, she picked up the gift she had purchased in Lourmarin for Joy and opened the backseat of her car for Picasso. Today they would drive together.
“You’re my escort,” she told him, patting the nose that was poking over the top of her seat.
It was typical of the complicated system of roadways throughout France that it would take longer to drive to the manoir than it would to walk to it through the vineyard. At one point Katherine thought she might be lost and chuckled at the possibility. Driving was no easy matter in this country.
The lane leading from the road to the house was cut through a small patch of forest, and Katherine smiled with delighted awe as she pulled into the large courtyard. She had only seen the structure from the other side when she rode through the vineyard and was simply not prepared for the beauty before her.
Sitting on a slight rise, the large ochre-toned two-story rectangular structure was the epitome of Katherine’s fantasy of a French manor house. A tower wrapped around the eastern corner, hinting at the early Italian influence. Blue-shuttered windows were placed asymmetrically the length of the manor with shuttered French doors beneath them. The enormous door of
the grand central entrance stood open, and Katherine could hear Joy’s greeting voice as she approached. A wrought-iron balcony above the door overlooked the elegant esplanade dotted with large glazed Anduze pots and lined by stately plane trees. The majestic fountain at the far end of the terrace, covered in moss and slightly crumbling, completed the sense of harmony and design.
Joy greeted Katherine warmly as she led her into the expansive foyer. She immediately opened her gift and was thrilled with the handblown glass bowl.
“Oh, Katherine, how did you guess? You will smile when you see my table set with only Biot glass. It has been my favorite since I first saw pieces fifty years ago. Thank you for being so thoughtful. I will treasure this.”
Picasso had raced around to the back as soon as he was out of the car, as if he knew it was time for Sunday lunch.
“Come and meet everyone, ma chère, and we will tour the house later. If you would like to, of course.”
“No question!” Katherine said with a widening smile. “I can’t wait.”
Joy led the way through an enormous room and then one slightly smaller from which French doors led out to a large fine gravel terrace, where a large animated group was chatting and laughing around a very long table.
The bright tones of yellow, blue, and green of the fabrics in the classic Provençal tablecloth and napkins were echoed in the distinctive Biot glassware, creating a symphony of colors.
Introductions were made by Joy, assisted by Picasso, who made his way around the table, greeted by squeals from the young children and affectionate words and rubs from the adults. His popularity was obvious.
“Of course, you know Mirella.”
Mirella, looking cool in a crisp sleeveless pale-green linen dress, approached her immediately with a warm smile as they exchanged bises. “I’m so looking forward to hearing about your motor trip!”
The Promise of Provence (Love in Provence Book 1) Page 19