La Vie en Bleu

by Jody Klaire

  Rebecca was right. Pippa was such a sweet person, a kind person that often she made Berne want to protect her, to make everything perfect for her. Was there such a thing as being smothered by kindness?

  Pippa was not useless or unable to cope or lacking in intelligence. No wonder it felt to her as though she didn’t know herself. Who would when everyone treated her like a child?

  Berne got up and walked over to Pippa, who sat in front of her tent organising her sleeping bag.

  “Although the water is not reaching here, the ground underneath is wet.”

  Pippa looked from her to the tent and back. “I’ll get soggy if I stay there?”

  Berne nodded.

  “Where is best?”

  Gone was the anger from earlier in the night. Pippa looked as though she had decided that calm was far better than rage. That only made the feeling of separation worse. It was a risk to lie, a risk that could see Pippa fade into the distance.

  “Berne?”

  “Oui.” She stared at the bank behind, trailing over the available space, and tried not to let the wry smile show on her face.

  “Next to mine.” Babs had pitched hers and Rebecca’s, leaving only enough space for Pippa to pitch next to her. They were co-conspirators in almost everything it seemed.

  “Oh.”

  Berne didn’t miss the quick intake of breath or Pippa’s long neck flexing with her swallow.

  “I can move them if you wish to be away from me.”

  Pippa’s “don’t be ridiculous” look made Berne smile inside. The affirmation that she was not hated threatened to break through. Pippa’s eyes flicked to and fro until she sighed and got to her feet.

  “I don’t know how to move it.”

  Berne stopped herself from doing it for her. “You lift it up and carry it.”

  Pippa frowned. “Isn’t that hard when it has pegs and—” She turned and groaned loudly. She picked up the bag still full of pegs. “That would have been clever.”

  “Perhaps you knew you would need to move, oui?” Berne picked up Pippa’s rucksack and sleeping bag. She was trying to stand back but not helping at all was too hard.

  “So, will it be wet now?” Pippa picked up her tent, jabbing herself in the shoulder with a pole and wincing. She was so adorable. “How do I dry it out?”

  “It should not have been affected yet. You did not enter it?”

  Pippa shook her head, colliding tent with the slope in front. She was beyond adorable. Berne caught herself smiling at the grumpy muttering, loving the sound of the soft English tones.

  “You on the move there, Pip?” Rebecca, forever watchful, wandered over. “You’d make a terrible Ninja Turtle.”

  “Cowa-flipping-bunga,” Pippa grunted as she tried to head up the slope. The tent poked her in the rib cage this time. “Is there a wall or what?”

  “If you count a load of pebbles, then yeah. Try lifting it up, cloth-head.”

  Berne clamped her lips shut at Rebecca’s taunt. That was one way to make Pippa pay attention.

  “You wha—? Oh. Right.”

  Perhaps Pippa was insulted often because she seemed immune to being called such names. She followed Rebecca’s advice and ascended the slope with ease, dropped her tent in place, and grinned.

  “See, I got it.”

  Berne looked at Rebecca and shrugged.

  “You want to crawl through the bushes?” Rebecca asked.

  Pippa frowned. “No, why would I want to do that?”

  Berne and Rebecca both looked at the tent, hoping that Pippa would realise.

  “I don’t get it . . . what?” Pippa looked from the tent to them and put her hands on her hips. “Why bushes?”

  Rebecca walked to her and motioned to the tent dramatically. “Take a good look. What do you see?”

  “Nothing.” Pippa bit her lip. “I know I need pegs, right?”

  “Well, yeah, but before you go there. What is missing here?” Rebecca once again motioned to what was obvious.

  Babs, who had been working in her tent, poked her head out. “Ça va?”

  “Rebecca and Pepe are in conference,” Berne said.

  Babs smiled and clambered out to watch as Rebecca and Pippa continued.

  “Come on, Pip . . . seriously?”

  Pippa waved her hands in the air. “I don’t get it. It looks like it did down there. It was fine down there.”

  “What obvious thing isn’t?” Rebecca was worked up by Pippa’s lack of observation skills. It was funny, too funny. Berne clamped her lips shut and smiled at Babs as she stifled her laugh.

  “I’m not an expert. I don’t know.” Pippa slunk onto one hip in a way that made Berne bite back the groan.

  There was something about the way she did that. Something about the way she looked under the stars, her hair falling free from its band, her lip pulled to one side as she chewed on it.

  Rebecca placed her hand on the top of the tent. “You don’t need to be an expert. Why don’t you test it out? Maybe it’ll twig.”

  Pippa blinked a few times and then shrugged. She pulled her hair out of her face as she always did in preparation for some task.

  “Okay.”

  She knelt down and reached out to the fabric. She ran her fingers over it then hung her head. The chuckle rumbled through her shoulders.

  “I mean there’s dumb, then there’s dumb,” Rebecca shot at her, flashing a grin at Babs.

  Pippa got up and rolled the upside down tent upright and then lifted it around so there was now a door. “How did they let me out?”

  Her smile and laughter lit up her face. It lit up the air around her and lifted Berne’s heart. Pippa’s eyes twinkled as she beamed in Berne’s direction. She blew the hair out of her face.

  Berne brought over the sleeping bag and rucksack. Pippa looked invigorated and oh so alive.

  “Survival one-oh-one. Make sure you don’t pitch where you’ll get soaked,” Pippa said, tapping it out on her hand.

  “Oui.”

  “Second, make sure your tent is the right way up.” Her slender, long fingers flicked out. She had the hands of an artist.

  Berne tried and failed to suppress the chuckle. “It is important, oui.”

  “Third, make sure said tent is facing the right way.” Pippa grinned and reached out for her things. “See, this camping stuff is a doddle.”

  Pippa clambered into her tent to stow her things away. Berne knelt down beside the doorway. “There is one other thing I think you may find useful.”

  “There is?” Pippa clomped around until she was facing her, hair flopping into her face at will.

  Berne fought the urge to brush it from her eyes. “Oui.”

  “What?”

  Berne lifted up her hand and rattled the bag full of pegs.

  “Ah, foiled.” Pippa reached out for the bag.

  “Oui.” She held on as Pippa touched her hand. It was good just to feel her touch. Good just to be near, this near. Memories taunted her with how close she had been once.

  “I don’t suppose you’d show me what I’m doing with them?”

  Relieved that Pippa was finally letting her help, Berne smiled. “With pleasure. Every adventurer needs a guide, non?”

  She enjoyed the blush that elicited from Pippa. It was good to know that she wasn’t the only one with those memories.

  MORNING ECHOED WITH the sound of birdcalls. It would be a beautiful day. The scent of summer filled the air as Berne set out breakfast.

  “Did you fix the problem?” Berne asked Babs as she wandered over in search of black coffee.

  Babs had been very much distracted by something all evening, spending large amounts of time secluded in her tent.

  “I think so but I am not sure if the client will approve.”

  “Non?” Berne handed her the coffee.

  “He wants a little boy’s room but I think he will find it more useful as a sauna. His space could be placed somewhere less . . . obtrusive.”

  “I thi
nk that he likes to be so.” Berne looked up as Rebecca wandered over and threw her the sun cream. “Bonjour.”

  “Thanks.” Rebecca caught the cream. “What’s up?”

  “Babs wishes to move Doug’s room to a more secluded place.”

  Rebecca laughed then stopped laughing when she realised Babs was serious. “Doug won’t do that. Doug doesn’t do compromise.”

  “I ask this once again,” Babs said. “Why is she with him?”

  Berne watched Rebecca put the sun cream on. She took her time, Berne guessed, to calculate an answer that would appease while staying loyal to Pippa.

  “Well, we’d been in the firm for a couple of years when Doug’s people hired us.”

  She lathered the cream on her arms. Her tattoos covered by the white goop. Berne noted Babs was riveted to the action.

  “Doug was . . . and is . . . a cool guy. He was suave and he’s a hunk. He pretty much made it clear that he wanted Pip.”

  “He pursued her?” Babs’s lips parted as Rebecca splodged cream on her neck and shoulders.

  Berne shook her head, concentrating on the food.

  “Yeah, I mean Pip seemed to like him enough. I thought that was just her way. It wasn’t until I saw her around Berne that I—” Rebecca smiled.

  “Ça va?” Babs was leaning forward, avid in her concentration as Rebecca’s hands stopped their motion.

  “Well, it was then I saw how love became her.”

  “He does not see her true worth,” Berne said, jabbing at the food. Still, she couldn’t help but smile with the observation. It was good to know that even when Pippa was with this man, he had been far from her heart.

  Rebecca “mmm’d” her agreement as she slapped the cream on her legs.

  Berne took the tipping coffee cup out of Babs’s hands as she drooled. “Why is she loyal if he is not so good to her?”

  “He’s a good guy.” Rebecca ran her hands over her thighs, oblivious to Babs. “A dense guy, who doesn’t know that Pip isn’t playing hard to get. I have the impression that he thinks the moment they’re married that she will melt into his arms.”

  The visual memories of Pippa doing just that in her own embrace made Berne’s body pulse. Was it wrong to enjoy the fact that she had seen such a transformation and he hadn’t?

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Rebecca said.

  Babs sat upright.

  Berne shook free thoughts of Pippa from her mind.

  “You do?” they said in unison.

  “Yeah.” Rebecca put cream on her face. “Surely he must have known, right? Surely we all must have noticed that Pippa was . . . well . . . gay.”

  Berne and Babs exchanged guilty glances.

  “But you did not?” Berne asked, covering Babs who looked slightly warmer than could be accounted for this early.

  “No,” Rebecca said. “I mean, I never twigged but then she never looked at anyone like that . . . ever.”

  Again Berne smiled.

  “I used to think the ring was an heirloom or something, that the French shirt was her favourite because it was comfy or something.” Rebecca smiled at Berne. “Why did she get your rugby shirt?”

  “You need cream on your back too, non?” Babs cut in to save Berne although it had nothing to do with loyalty and more to do with opportunity.

  Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Berne focused on making the rolls up and placing them into foil and boxes to be ready for the morning break.

  The school trips and pleasure excursions were not in full swing as yet. The river would be quieter and there was no need to rush. Most tourists paddled down the river section in two days, starting at Vallon Pont D’Arc and finishing at Saint Martin. Berne intended for them to make a more leisurely trip. The schedule was dictated by Pippa. How long Berne could keep her on the water to give her the time to think was the important mission. They would take in some adventure activities along the way if need be—anything to give Pippa the chance to figure out her own desires.

  Berne sighed.

  Anything to help Pippa come back to her.

  “I heard there’s a nudist beach,” Rebecca said. “Seriously?”

  “Oui,” Berne said. “Not long after we go under Pont D’Arc.”

  “You will pass them on the way through. You wish to stop there?” Babs sounded far too hopeful for Berne’s liking.

  The only thing that would achieve was the poor woman getting sunburn in places that she doubted saw strong sunlight. Judging by how very white Rebecca’s stomach was, Berne wouldn’t like to take the risk either.

  “You have a rash vest?”

  Rebecca looked at Berne blankly.

  It was not something Berne could think of the English for. Her mind ran through the alternative ways to explain in French. “It is a top you wear. It looks tight. It is worn by surfers.” What was the English for it?

  Again Rebecca looked lost.

  “I have one. You are bigger than me but I like them to be loose,” Babs said, taking over. “You can borrow it.”

  “Um . . . great?”

  Before Berne could explain, a loud string of expletives filled the air. She looked at Pippa’s tent in time to see the shape of her through the fabric. She laughed before she could stop herself.

  “What is she doing now?” Rebecca went to go to her but Babs placed a hand on her arm.

  “It is part of the camping experience to learn not to touch the canvas, oui?”

  Rebecca nodded. “Yeah, condensation is a bitch.”

  Berne smiled. When she’d brought Pippa to the Ardèche all those years ago, Pippa had done the exact same thing. The memory of that howling and the fit of giggles her face had provoked seemed as vivid now as it had then.

  “Oh she’s going for the zip.” Rebecca gripped hold of Babs’s arm. “This could be brutal.”

  Much swearing and yanking made the tent rock violently from side to side as Pippa tried to negotiate the double zip.

  “I locked myself in!”

  Berne carried on with the lunches, anything not to run and help. Rebecca chose to hold onto Babs’s offered hand.

  “Hello?”

  Babs shook her head and placed a finger to her lips.

  “Anyone?”

  More grunting, more tent rocking and the sound of a zip moving.

  “Perhaps it is better you are not gawping when she releases herself, non?” Berne raised an eyebrow at them.

  Babs and Rebecca nodded and hurried to Babs’s tent in search of a rash vest.

  Pippa’s head popped out into the sunlight, hair wild as it always was in the morning. “You been there the whole time?”

  Berne nodded. “I could not help you. I would burn the food, non?”

  Pippa rubbed at her stomach. “I’m starving.”

  “I have your breakfast ready when you would like it.” Pippa groaned in such a way that Berne’s heart increased its heavy thudding beats. “I thought you would appreciate this.”

  Pippa went to walk out of the tent, not seeing that the zip didn’t go all the way to the floor and promptly tripped over the remaining fabric. Berne was already there, waiting with her arms open, as Pippa tumbled at her.

  “Guess I never learn.” Pippa sighed. “You would think three stitches would have etched that part in my memory.”

  “If it helps,” Berne said, trying to look anywhere but Pippa’s captivating eyes. She looked so sensual in the morning, so wild, so untamed, and carefree. “I remembered it.”

  Pippa’s cheeks coloured as she relaxed in Berne’s arms. “I’m glad you did.”

  The warmth of Pippa’s body made it hard not to feel how close she was. Close enough to smell the fruity scent of sun cream and shampoo. Close enough to brush the hair from her eyes, to trace her finger down the smooth cheek—

  “I . . . we . . . breakfast,” Pippa mumbled but she didn’t move.

  “Oui.”

  Closer, Pippa’s eyes dropped to Berne’s lips and she licked them in response. “Berne, I
—”

  “Hey there, bush woman, what are you doing?”

  Berne sighed and relinquished her hold on Pippa and strode back to the breakfast. Rebecca was right to stop them but it still didn’t make the interruption welcome.

  She was surprised that Pippa was still so . . . responsive . . . even when she thought Berne had betrayed her.

  “Falling flat on my face,” Pippa shot back. “Lucky for me, my trusty French guide was at hand.”

  Berne bowed her head in acknowledgement, not daring to look up and run her eyes over the pyjama shorts with faded hearts on them. Cute and sexy all at once.

  “Yes, well, if you keep throwing yourself at women, I may pout.” Rebecca poked out her bottom lip. “I never got so much as a lingering look.”

  Pippa poked out her tongue at Rebecca’s teasing. Berne was glad to see that Rebecca now had on a tight rash vest.

  Pippa noticed too and grinned. “Good idea. I don’t know if I brought mine.”

  Berne would not stand back on this one. “I have one in my bag for you.”

  A quiet smile played across Pippa’s lips. Berne’s body responded to the look, memories swirled inside her mind. How she was going to stay distant from Pippa, she didn’t know. Pippa finding herself seemed to make her even more attractive.

  “As if it wasn’t already hard enough,” Berne muttered under her breath. Not being with Pippa was difficult enough when her own head kept betraying her.

  When Pippa looked at her as she was now, with eyes full of hunger, it was almost impossible.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I WAS GLAD of the rash vest when we carried the kayaks down to the river. You could never be too careful with the sun, in my view. Okay, so I wasn’t the snowdrop that Rebecca was but under the intense heat that wouldn’t matter. I had a bit of an obsession with making sure I had enough cream on.

  “Howzat!” I grinned at Rebecca as she smothered sunblock on her nose and cheeks. “Where’s the wicket?”

  “You may laugh at my war paint, Saunders, but white cheeks are better than pink stinging ones.” She shrugged. “Besides, I’ll come out in freckles anyhow.”

  “I like your freckles. They’re cute.”

  Rebecca raised her eyebrows and put her hands on her hips. She was a picture with her long board shorts and white legs. Her vest was too small but her float-vest was a little too big, and all in bright colours. To top it off nicely, she had a lovely cherry red helmet on and all the sun block. “Are you flirting with me?”