By the time I emerge it’s getting dark and I’m getting hungry. Everything looks profoundly tempting along the cobbled, twinkly-lit streets of Vieux-Montréal, if a little expensive. I peer in the window of Chez L’Épicier where each plate is a delicate artwork – one bronzed scallop dish has a yacht-sail of proscuitto and individual Brussels sprout leaves scattered like fallen petals. I see a dessert of pale caramel cubes and mystery curly peelings topped with what looks like pink cuckoo spit. I also see diners with a larger budget than myself. In my mind I could only really justify such extravagance at the Guy Laliberté restaurant. I know it was around here somewhere …
Walking on, gazing in at so many happy, laughing diners while I shuffle through the snow, hungry and alone, I feel vaguely Dickensian. But then I come upon the cosiest-looking eaterie of all – pine tables, low-hanging, red-glowing lampshades and live piano music. It’s called the Stash Café, suggesting a more casual vibe, and before I even realise it, I’m seated at a little table near the bar.
It’s only when I’m halfway through the menu that I realise the restaurant is Polish.
Golabki, Krokiety, Watrobka z drobiu po Warszawsku.
The English words I spy aren’t much more appetising – tripe, herring, cabbage stew …
Suddenly poutine is sounding absolutely yummy.
I look towards the doorway – I don’t know if I can face stepping back out into the cold. Besides, my glass of wine has just arrived. I take a sip and then another and then decide to go with it. Who knows, perhaps this will be the best pierogi I’ve ever had. Not that I’ve actually had one before …
The strange thing is that I’m still thinking about that blanket at The Bay. While waiting for my food, I go onto the shop’s online store and discover something far better to recommend to our readers – same design but this time a pure cashmere travel blanket with an eye mask and inflatable pillow – currently on sale for about £75. That’s more like it. And for the lumberjack in your life – an axe. I kid you not, Canada’s equivalent of Harrods has an axe for sale on its website. I have to forward this link to Laurie! Oop! Text.
It’s Sebastien.
‘I’m going to stay over and get an early train back. You?’
Now I feel like I should switch to champagne! This is fantastic news! Fantastic! I have to tell Jacques, he’s going to be so thrilled. Our plan is working!
Typically I’d step outside to make a call but it’s too cold and I’m too excited. Not that I have Jacques’ number, but at least I can call the farm.
‘Bonsoir.’ A female voice answers sounding slightly out of breath and calling off to someone else in French, but too fast for me to comprehend.
‘Bonsoir,’ I reply. ‘Is it possible to have a quick word with Jacques?’
‘Pardon?’
‘Er, est Jacques ici?’ That’s not right. Ici is here.
She speaks again in French. Only one word stands out – lopital. There’s something familiar about that … Oh no! It can’t be! L’hôpital? ‘He’s in the hospital?’ I say out loud.
‘Oui.’
And then the line cuts out, just like it did when Sebastien got his fateful call. I dial back in a frenzy. No reply – it just rings and rings and rings … I feel utterly nauseous, my body instantly quaking. I call again. Still no reply. What now? I look back at the text message from Sebastien. I’d do anything now to leave him happily in the arms of Julie but I can’t possibly keep this from him.
My finger hovers over the dial button – of all people for him to receive this most dreaded of calls. It has to be the person who, just a few hours earlier, insisted that no harm would come to his beloved brother. The very same person who engineered this whole trip leaving Jacques unattended in the first place.
Me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Please let him be all right. Please let Jacques live. Please let this just be an awful coincidence – a sudden appendicitis or injection for a dog bite. Not that any of his dogs would bite him, but perhaps he accidentally stood on a tail or got carried away with puppy play – they have very sharp teeth … Let it be no worse than that. No falls in frozen lakes. Please …
The drive back to Quebec is agonising. Sebastien is both anxious and bristling, Julie is trying to soothe him and I am taking the wheel of her Mini Cooper because the two of them had already got into a second bottle of wine over dinner.
Sebastien decided not to worry his father until he knew more, but we’re having trouble finding out any details since no hospital seems to have Jacques listed as a patient. And there’s still no reply on the main phone at the farm and Sebastien doesn’t have any of the staff’s personal numbers because, frankly, he never got on personal terms with them.
I feel sick. This was all down to my meddling. In my desire to make things better, it didn’t occur to me that I could make things so much worse. If ever Sebastien needed confirmation that Jacques could not be left, I have now sealed the deal. He’s going to be at his side until he dies. I get a chill as I think that thought. Please don’t let that be tonight.
After three hours of driving in the darkness, we arrive at the car park of the very hospital where Rémy’s body was rushed after the accident. Both men, Sebastien tells me, were card-carrying organ donors, so we have to check every department, beginning with the Emergency Room.
My nausea has increased tenfold now.
‘And you are certain she said hospital?’ Sebastien grills me for the hundreth time as we enter the lift to try our luck on a different floor.
‘Yes,’ I say. Though I’m actually getting less and less certain as the night progresses.
Until … the lift doors open and there, about to step in and join us, is Jacques.
In normal clothes, no bottom-baring gown.
‘What are you doing up?’ Sebastien demands, clearly thrown by the absense of heart monitors and intravenous tubes.
‘Up?’ Jacques looks confused. ‘I was just going to get some coffees. What are you doing here?’
‘They said … ’ He turns accusingly to me. ‘You said he was in the hospital.’
‘I am in the hospital,’ Jacques confirms.
‘But what are you doing here?’
A besotted smile forms on his face. ‘You’re not going to believe this … ’
‘What?’
‘You have to wait and see.’ He turns and presses a button on the lift console.
‘Tell me!’ Sebastien lurches at him.
Jacques looks back at his ashen brother and becomes suddenly serious. ‘You thought … ’
‘No, no!’ Sebastien protests, turning away.
‘Yes, you did.’
‘Okay, I did. Jesus.’ He hangs his head. ‘If I lost you … ’
‘You won’t.’ Jacques lays a steady hand on Sebastien’s trembling shoulder. ‘You can’t lose me. I am your brother. I am always your brother. Even when you can’t see me.’ He takes a breath. ‘And if you need proof that I would never do what you think I would do, come and look at this … ’
We exit the lift and follow Jacques down a corridor. About halfway down he gently pushes open a door and reveals a group of people crowding around a young woman with a freshly produced baby in her arms.
For a second I think I might faint. Is Jacques a new father?
‘Who is that?’ Sebastien asks.
‘Look at the baby. Recognise anyone?’
Sebastien looks confused. ‘I don’t understand, what’s going on?’
Jacques gets a wry look now. ‘Rémy slept with a girl the night before the accident… ’
There’s a pause while the penny drops.
‘That’s Rémy’s child?!’ Sebastien reels.
‘Perfect little boy,’ he says, looking back at the scrunched face and tufts of inky black hair. ‘Seven pounds, seven ounces.’
As we all look back at the baby, I recognise one of the people cooing at the bedside as Johanna Laframboise, a newly inducted grandmother. I dart behind Julie as
she turns our way, praying she hasn’t seen me.
‘I can’t believe it,’ Sebastien is breathless with shock. ‘He lives on. Rémy lives on!’
His eyes are glazed with tears now as he throws his arms around his brother – the pair of them clutching at each other, hugging tight as they let go of so much anguish and tension and guilt.
I suddenly feel overwhelmed myself – Rémy has come back to them in a new form: a little being with his whole life ahead of him.
‘It’s a miracle!’ Julie murmurs.
‘That’s exactly what it is,’ I agree.
‘And you only just found out?’ Sebastien seeks clarification.
‘A matter of hours ago. I hadn’t had a chance to call you yet—’
‘No, no, that’s fine. I just … ’ Sebastien’s head rocks back.
‘I know!’ Jacques grins. ‘Rémy said he’d met someone but we didn’t have a chance to discuss that in any detail. I didn’t even know who the girl was. Until now … ’
Sebastien leans close, ‘So who is she?’
Jacques eases the door closed and guides us to the waiting area. When we are all seated, he begins …
‘Her name is Lily Bechet. She met Rémy at the supermarket when he was running errands for his mother; they went for a coffee which turned into drinks which turned into—’
‘Sex,’ Sebastien cuts to the chase.
‘And the fact is, she didn’t even realise she was pregnant until a good six weeks or so after he died.’
‘Did she know what happened to him? You know, that it wasn’t just that he hadn’t called her?’ Julie asks.
Jacques nods. ‘She saw it on the news.’
‘How awful.’
‘Apparently she always swore she would never be a single mother and, at the time, she didn’t know if she was going to keep it. Then she met a new guy who swept her off her feet and he said he desperately wanted to be a father, but Lily couldn’t tell anyone that the baby wasn’t his; they would bring it up as theirs and no one would know the truth.’ He leans back in the plastic chair. ‘But about a month ago, I guess it all got too real for him – the responsibilities, the changes in their lifestyle, and he bailed.’
‘Wow.’
‘I think it was only a few days ago that Lily told her mother the whole story and then today, on the way to the hospital, she rang Mrs Laframboise and she rang me.’ He looks awash with wonder. ‘I still can’t believe it.’
‘Amazing. It’s just amazing.’
‘You want to come and meet them?’ Jacques offers.
‘Are we going to be too much en masse?’ Sebastien worries.
‘Why don’t I go and get the coffees?’ I quickly excuse myself.
‘I’ll come with you,’ Julie jumps up. ‘You guys go visit.’
I’m not sure what drug I need right now to counter the shock of all this, but they must have something for when a worst-case scenario turns out to be the best but still leaves you shaking and disorientated.
‘This is incredible,’ I hear Julie enthusing. ‘I don’t mean to be selfish but this one thing could set Sebastien free – there is no way that Jacques would leave little Rémy now. No way.’
‘He could still take that European tour!’
‘They’d have him in a heartbeat,’ she nods. ‘In a heartbeat.’
Barely able to contain herself, she reaches out and hugs me tight – all those precision-honed Cirque muscles crushing against my soft flesh.
And then she blinks back her tears. ‘I mustn’t get ahead of myself but the thought of having him back … ’ She looks near-delirious. ‘And I want a baby so bad. I want Sebastien’s baby!’
I smile. ‘You know Mr Dufour is counting on that!
And then I have a selfish thought. That all of Jacques’ attention will now go to the new baby and grandmother Laframboise. Just as it should be, of course. Besides, I’m going home in a few days and I’ve got what I said I wanted – Jacques reunited with his second family. And a third one to boot.
As we walk back with the coffees, I now feel very much the outsider. Perhaps I should just leave, not that I know where I am, but I could easily get a taxi back to the auberge. If I can just figure out the way to the Reception …
‘Krista!’
‘Uncle Jacques!’ I summon a grin as he approaches.
His smile broadens. ‘Hey, I like that!’ and then he looks directly at me, eyes shining with appreciation.
‘We did it!’
‘Did what?’
‘Got Sebastien moving back to Montreal!’
‘He’s taking the tour?’ I gasp.
‘I made it easy on him – I fired him!’
‘You did?’ I laugh.
‘Told him he’s got to be out by the weekend.’
‘Wow. Tough boss.’
‘That’s me!’ he puffs up his chest. ‘And I have you to thank for getting him back to Montreal, hooking him up with Julie … ’
‘Oh no,’ I look away. ‘Things would have worked out just as well without my interference.’
‘Excuse me a moment.’
Sebastien is calling him back. Maybe to ask about severance pay.
That was really nice of Jacques to thank me. But I still feel awkward being here. On the maternity ward of all places. Some cruel part of me says, ‘Imagine if you could have been here under different circumstances, having Jacques’ baby!’ and then even though I’m the one person without a legitimate excuse for tears, they start to trickle down my face faster than I can wipe them.
I’m never going to experience this for myself; never going to have a crowd of hearts zinging with love around me, congratulating me. I’m never going to contribute anything as amazing as a baby to the world. I’m always going to be on the outside looking in. I’m never going to be able to hold someone and know that they are truly mine because they are a part of me. I’m always going to be alone.
Through the blur of my tears I locate the Ladies and then shut myself in the cubicle and sob as silently as I possibly can, trying to get it all out and over with. Again. Please just leave me, I beg all these thoughts; leave me in peace, don’t keep tormenting me like this. I thought we had a deal. Where are my fir incense sticks when I need them?
As I step back out of the Ladies, I collide with Julie.
‘Oh there you are! We wanted to see if you needed a ride back to your hotel?’
‘Um, I … ’ I can’t even form a sentence.
‘Are you okay?’
‘I’ll take her,’ Jacques cuts in, appearing by her side.
‘Oh no, it’s fine.’ I manage to avoid all eye contact. ‘I can get a taxi. I’ll just get my bag out of your car—’
‘Put it in mine,’ Jacques instructs Sebastien, slinging him his keys. ‘And start her up for me.’
‘Are you sure? I don’t want to interrupt your time here.’
‘You’re not. Lily needs to rest now. Let me just say goodbye to Mama Laframboise.’
‘Okay,’ I say, taking the path of least resistance.
Sebastien, meanwhile, still looks as though he needs a stiff drink. ‘What a day!’
‘I’ll say!’ I almost manage a smile. ‘Thanks for the jaunt to Montreal, it was great.’
‘You’ll have to come back again and see the show … ’
‘I’d love that,’ I say, though my heart sinks a little – that sounds like one of those things you say when you’re never going to see the person again.
I turn my sore eyes to Julie. ‘It was so nice to meet you. Good luck with everything,’ I add, giving her a knowing look.
‘And you.’ She leans in and gives me another hug, this time of such affection it nearly sets me off again.
And then they’re gone and I’m standing in the corridor, and even though I know Jacques is coming for me I just want to run and hide because I don’t want to blub all over him and I just can’t seem to hold it together right now.
‘So, have they decided on a name for the baby yet?’
I force myself to ask the appropriate questions as we head outside.
‘Yes – René,’ he tells me. ‘It means to be reborn.’
‘Really?’ I brighten for a second. ‘That’s so perfect!’
He stops suddenly. ‘Krista, can I ask you a question?’
Uh oh. ‘Yes.’
‘And you don’t have to answer.’
‘Okay.’ I shiver.
He puts a bear-like arm around me. ‘Perhaps we should get in the truck first … ’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Inside his charmingly beat-up vehicle we are blasted with so much heat and airborne dog fluff my mouth gets even drier.
What is he going to ask me? It’s obviously a delicate subject because twice he’s gone to speak and then appears to have a change of heart.
I am about to cut to the chase and give him the address of my auberge when he blurts, ‘My wife left me because I couldn’t provide her with a child.’
My mouth falls open.
He looks a little dazed himself. ‘You’re only the second person I’ve ever told that to.’
Still I can’t seem to find the words but I don’t want to leave him hanging. ‘I-I only told one person … ’ I begin. ‘Until now.’ I look back at him. ‘Do I have to say it out loud? Like at an AA meeting?’
He smiles fondly. ‘Only if you want to.’
I take a deep breath. ‘My name is Krista and I can’t have children.’
‘I had a feeling.’ His eyes brim with empathy. ‘Your reaction with the puppies, and then today. But I wasn’t sure.’
I sigh. ‘The day with the puppies was the day I found out that my ex-husband had got a nineteen-year-old sandwich delivery girl pregnant.’
‘Oh no!’ he groans.
‘Yes,’ I sigh. ‘These young women are so very fertile.’ And then I venture: ‘What about you – do you know if your wife … ’
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