One Night in Provence

by Barbara Wallace

  “No need.” She waved off his concern. “I’ve been here a couple of years now, and it’s not so bad. You learn to deal with the weather.”

  “You weren’t pregnant those winters.”

  “No, but... Oh, I get what you’re saying now.” She stopped walking so she could face him. “I hate to break it to you, but people have babies on Nantucket all the time, winter included.”

  But they weren’t having his baby. Philippe was only concerned with her. “What if you slip on ice and fall during one of these nor’easters you talked about?”

  “I could slip and fall anywhere,” she replied. “Conditions don’t have to be icy for a person to lose their balance. I’ll be fine.” She started walking again.

  Fine. Philippe had heard that word before. He didn’t want Jenna to be fine. He wanted her—and their baby—safe.

  “It isn’t as if you will need to work during the pregnancy,” he called after her. “You would be free to go and do whatever you wanted.” Except fall.

  “Philippe.” Again she stopped, only this time when she turned, she had her arms crossed. “Are you planning to make my getting off the island one of the trust stipulations?”

  “No.”

  “Then back off, okay? I’m a grown woman. I don’t need you mother-henning me into moving.”

  “I’m not trying to make you move,” he said. “I’m simply trying to keep the baby safe.”

  “Well, you’ll have to trust me.”

  “I’ll try.” The knot in his chest made it difficult.

  “Try hard.” Spinning on her heel, she resumed walking, her pace quick enough that he had to pick up speed to catch up.

  “Do you mind if I ask you a question?” he asked after a quarter mile of silence. He didn’t want to contribute to the chill between them any more than he already had, but he was curious. “What made you choose here to live? A single woman like yourself, I would think Boston would be far more appealing.”

  To his relief, she took the question for the peace offering he meant it to be. “I lived in Boston for a year or two after graduation. Decided I’d rather be three hours away.”

  He was about to ask why when her pocketbook began buzzing. The woman had the loudest vibration setting he had ever heard. “Your phone is ringing.”

  “I’m sorry. I probably should answer. Only because the nursing home might be looking for shift coverage.” Unzipping her bag, she reached in and pulled out her cell phone. “I’ll let them know...never mind.” Her expression fell. “It’s not the home after all.”

  She dropped the phone into her bag unanswered.

  “You still could have talked with them,” Philippe said.

  “Could have, but I don’t want to,” she replied. He noticed the way the muscles in her jaw twitched from it being clenched. Her tension had returned. Was it the same caller as before? The one she had spent the morning avoiding as well? He was trying his best not to pry, but watching Jenna turn from smiling to angry in the blink of an eye had him suddenly quite upset with the person as well—whoever that person might be.

  A thought struck him. “You are not being bothered by someone, are you? A former lover, perhaps?”

  “Good Lord, no.” Her laugh had a mocking tone. “More like the opposite.”

  “A current lover.” He was definitely angry.

  “Try my mother.”

  Ah, the woman who couldn’t move on from Jenna’s father. Why didn’t she want to speak with her? He ventured a semi guess. “You are mad at her?”

  “Frustrated,” Jenna replied. “It’s just more of the same, and I’ve got enough on my plate without piling on more drama. Honest to God, sometimes I don’t understand what’s going on in her head. Do you know what I mean?”

  “I take it she is making decisions you don’t approve of.”

  “I’m not really in a position to judge other people’s behavior, am I?” She pressed a palm to her stomach. “But, yeah, I think... Check that. She is making a big mistake.”

  “Are you sure? Perhaps you don’t know the whole story.” Much like how he felt right now. He was playing devil’s advocate because saying I’m sorry seemed trite and he didn’t know what else to say.

  “Oh, I know the whole story, all right,” Jenna replied. “This isn’t the first time we’ve been through this drama.”

  This time he did apologize, for the stress the call was obviously causing. Both Jenna’s jaw and her fist were clenched. Such tension couldn’t be good for the baby. He looked around for a place where they could sit and talk in earnest, saw mostly trees and weathered picket fences. There was, however, a small historical center across the street from the observatory that had a tall set of steps leading to its porch. He motioned for Jenna to follow him over. If anyone balked, he’d pay the membership fee.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “So you can relax,” he said. “Your shoulders look ready to snap.”

  “Sorry. I just get so...”

  “Frustrated. You said as much.” He waited until she’d taken a seat on one of the steps before positioning himself behind her and placing his hands on her shoulders. Naturally, as soon as he touched her, the muscles tightened even more. Philippe kneaded the tension. Over the years, countless women had told him he had talented hands. Now was a good time to put the compliments to the test.

  “Perhaps you would feel better if you told me what was going on,” he told her.

  “I can’t,” she replied. “It’s too... God, that feels good.”

  He pressed his thumbs against muscle. “Your shoulders are in knots.”

  “That’s because every time I think about it, I want to scream. How can someone, in this day and age, be as clueless as my mother? I know what’s going to happen, too. I’m going to have to pick up the pieces.”

  Pieces of her mother? “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m confused.”

  “I know you are. I don’t mean to be cryptic.” Heaving a deep sigh, she closed her eyes. Philippe would have liked to say it was because she enjoyed the massage, but the look on her face suggested it was out of embarrassment.

  “My father’s back.”

  * * *

  Saying the words out loud only made her feel more frustrated. She felt Philippe’s hands still for a moment before continuing their ministrations. Under other circumstances, the massage would feel heavenly.

  “Your parents are having an affair.”

  “Yep.” And not for the first time, either. “Dad’s current relationship is on the rocks—that can happen when you sleep with the new inventory manager at work—and he needed a friendly shoulder. Naturally...”

  “He turned to your mother.”

  And like always, her mother was ready, willing and able to give him all the compassion he desired. “They’ve been ‘involved’ for a couple weeks,” she told him.

  “Perhaps this time they will...”

  “No, they won’t.” While she appreciated his attempt to be positive, she’d seen this situation too many times before. Her father coming back all smiles and sweetness, telling her mother everything she wanted to hear. “This is the same thing he always does,” she said. “They’ll be together two, three weeks, until someone else catches his eye. Mom’s his emotional comfort food.”

  “And your mother, she lets him treat her this way?” Jenna could tell he found the idea as unfathomable as she did.

  “Every single time. Dad can be quite the charmer when he wants to be.”

  Like someone else Jenna knew. Although unlike her father, Philippe managed expectations. You knew what you were—or weren’t—getting with Philippe. Her father promised love and forever.

  She allowed her head to fall forward as Philippe’s fingers slid upward along either side of her spine toward her neck. “Naturally my mom’s over the moon. She spent ten minutes talking about the two
dozen roses he sent to her office.”

  “Roses are the lazy man’s flower.”

  Jenna couldn’t help but smile. Of course he’d say something like that.

  “I wish you could have heard her on the phone. Going on and on about how this time was different. That she always knew they’d get back together.”

  “He’s changed, Jenna. He realizes now what’s important, and that’s a home with someone who loves him.”

  “He had that, Mom, with what’s-her-name. He cheated on her.”

  “Because he was so unhappy. He hasn’t truly been happy since we divorced.”

  “She must love your father very much to keep forgiving him.”

  “Love? Try worship. All he has to do is crook his finger, and she comes running. It’s sad.”

  “Surely he loves her somewhat as well.” Jenna looked up to see his serious expression looking down at her. “He keeps returning to her. Comfort food or no.”

  “If he loved her, he’d let her move on,” she replied. For a man who eschewed emotional commitment, he sounded oddly romantic. She blamed it on his having grown up with parents who loved one another.

  “The worst part is the fallout after he moves on. Last time she went to bed and cried for a week.” She sighed. “I just wish she’d show some pride and tell him to get lost.”

  “She can’t. She loves him. What is that old phrase? You can’t control what the heart wants?”

  “The heart can want whatever it likes,” she replied. “Doesn’t mean you stop listening to your head.”

  Her mother was never going to change. Jenna was going to spend the rest of her life watching her have her heart broken. “It’s like watching someone driving a car you know is going to explode. You warn them and warn them, and they insist on driving anyway.”

  “All you can do is hope they aren’t too badly burned.”

  She lifted her head so she could look at Philippe. “Very wise words, Monsieur d’Usay.”

  “I have my moments.” Returning her smile, he returned to working on her shoulders. His fingers were magical—although Jenna already knew that. This was different from lovemaking, however. His hands were doing more than massaging. They were bringing calm with every tense muscle he smoothed away.

  “You are right about one thing,” she heard him say as he pressed the base of her neck. “People would be far better off if they led with their head.”

  “There would certainly be a lot less heartache in this world if they did,” Jenna agreed.

  “Unfortunately, not everyone is as wise as we are. Do you feel better?”

  “Yeah, I do.” She wouldn’t have thought it possible. Normally she would keep her mother’s drama to herself. At most, she shared with Shirley, but since her friend tended to get angry on her behalf, Jenna usually left those conversations as ratcheted up as when she began. Talking with Philippe was different. Whenever they spoke honestly, it was as though they were on the same page in terms of emotion. They understood one another. There was a connection.

  Careful, Jenna. These kinds of thoughts were what had led her into Philippe’s bed.

  Not to mention sounding dangerously close to something her mother would say.

  “Are you sure?” Philippe asked. “Your shoulders tensed again.”

  “From hunger.” She twisted out of his touch. So she could face him—no other reason. “How about I treat you to some true New England clam chowder? We’ll see if your bouillabaisse can compete.”

  “And if I’m not impressed, do I get to pick dessert?”

  With those dimples of his, she’d swear the man could make the simplest question sound like an innuendo. “Sure,” she replied. “As long as it’s ice cream. Baby needs lots of calcium.”

  Not to mention that, innuendo or not, she had zero intentions of letting the evening be anything more than platonic. She’d already decided as much before, but she was doubly resolved after their conversation. Taking her own advice, she was listening to her head.

  And not to whatever it was she could feel swirling around her heart.

  * * *

  A short while later, they were driving south, stomachs warm and full. “How do you say ‘I told you so’ in French?” Jenna asked.

  “Je te l’avais dit.”

  “Then je te l’avais dit,” she replied. Someone had eaten their soup like it was their last meal. “Better than bouillabaisse, no?”

  “Apples and oranges, ma chérie, but since thinking so makes you smile, I won’t argue.”

  “Can’t argue with someone who’s right,” she shot back with a laugh.

  The day wasn’t supposed to be this lovely. It was like they were back in France, free and easy, again. Leaning against the passenger door, Jenna studied Philippe’s profile. His hair was mussed from walking in the wind, the brown waves making him look every inch the carefree playboy. She knew better, though. She knew that beneath the facade dwelled a very complex man who mourned his family and respected the past. She loved when he dropped his mask around her. Those moments were a gift that made her feel incredibly special. In those times, it was easy to pretend theirs was a bond unlike his other relationships.

  “You want to turn by that street sign,” she told him.

  They were headed to Madaket. Taking in the unobstructed sunset from the beach was something every visitor to the island had to experience. “The view will rival your lavender fields,” she told him.

  “Never, but again I am willing to indulge. As I said, I like your smile.”

  Jenna’s cheeks warmed. “I’m looking forward to seeing the sunset myself. Believe it or not, I haven’t been out this way in ages.”

  “Is that so? Why not?”

  Sunsets were a date activity or for tourists, neither of which applied to her. “Just haven’t.”

  She wasn’t surprised to see only one other car in the beach parking lot. “Midweek in the off-season doesn’t attract a lot of sunset fans,” she told him. “In the summer, this lot is much fuller.”

  “Our lucky night, then.”

  “How so?”

  “We’ll have privacy. I like having time alone with you.”

  “We’ve been alone all day.”

  “I know. I’ve enjoyed it.” He pulled the car into a front-row space, behind the log fence that divided beach from lot. They could see the beach grass blowing in the wind. Beyond it was the silvery-brown sand and beyond that still farther, the black Atlantic with its choppy whitecaps.

  “In fact...” There was the soft click of his seat belt and then Philippe was leaning just close enough for Jenna to smell his body wash and the woodsy undertones of his aftershave. “I enjoyed it very much.”

  Jenna’s eyes fell to his lips. She knew what he was doing. He was offering her the chance to cross the line, same way she did this morning.

  Her mouth and throat were suddenly dry. “The best view is on the beach,” she told him.

  “Are you sure, ma chérie? The view is quite beautiful from this vantage point.” He gestured toward the ocean, but his eyes stayed on her.

  “Positive. For starters, the sun sets in the west.” She pointed over her shoulder. “The only thing you’ll get from this view is a gray sky.”

  “The only thing?” The dimple in his cheek was as pronounced as ever. He definitely didn’t play fair.

  “By the way, you’ll want to take off your shoes. The sand is very soft.”

  Soft and cold. Jenna forgot how quickly the grains lost their warmth when the shade moved in. She shivered as her foot sank ankle-deep into the cool dampness.

  “You are going to want this as well.” Philippe draped his leather jacket over her shoulders. Completely unnecessary since she was wearing a light jacket of her own, but if he wanted to play gentleman, who was she to argue? Especially when the jacket felt like having his arms around her.
She pulled the leather tight and breathed in his scent.

  “I will say, this is far different from Beau Rivage,” Philippe remarked. “The sand is softer, and it’s very peaceful.”

  “One of the things I love about this beach is how far removed it feels from the rest of Nantucket. It’s almost like walking on a different island. Look.” She pointed ahead at a trio of objects lolling on the beach. “Gray seals,” she said. “There’s probably more swimming around in the water just past the breakers.”

  “Those three look like giant gray rocks from here,” Philippe remarked.

  “I’m sure they appreciate the comparison. We shouldn’t get too much closer. I don’t want to spook them.”

  “Then we’ll stay here.” To her surprise, he sat down on the sand. “A little cold, but we will survive. If you prefer, you can sit on the jacket.”

  Jenna considered the supple leather wrapped around her shoulders. Much as she hated to lose the comforting scent, she’d sat on evening sand enough to know she preferred a warm bottom to extra-warm shoulders. Reluctantly, she slipped it off and spread it on the ground.

  She needn’t have worried, because no sooner did she take her seat than Philippe pulled her close. “To block the wind,” he whispered as his arms wrapped her in a hug. “Nothing more.”

  Unless she chose different. Disappointment swirled in her stomach even as she appreciated the gesture. He was truly staying on his side of the line and ceding her the power. Same as he had their entire relationship. Respecting her wishes and never pushing for more.

  Did he have any idea what his chivalry did to her? How giving her the space she needed to use her head actually fueled her attraction?

  Handsome, charming and respectful? What woman wouldn’t fall?

  “What is the beach in Nice like?” She needed to focus on something other than her thoughts. “You said it was different?”

  “Much. Like I said, the sand is softer here, and the water much darker. Where I spent my time, there was more development. I like how much of your coastline is open space. This is especially peaceful.”