Part 31 (2/2)
”Darling Jean-Paul, I would never ask that of you. We always knew the summer would come to an end.”
”Please don't cry,” he said when her eyes filled with tears. ”If you cry I will never be able to leave.”
”Loving you has been my greatest joy and my most dreadful sorrow. You will always be here in my heart. Every day I walk around our garden I will think of you and with every year that pa.s.ses my love will grow stronger and deeper.”
”I will wait for you, ma peche.” She so longed for him to mean it. Gratefully she grabbed the lifeline he now threw her.
”You promise? Because as soon as my children are older and Phillip doesn't need me I will cut myself free. I'll be ready for you to take me to France. We can grow old together and love without guilt, knowing that I stayed when I had to. That I did my duty.”
”I wish you could leave with me now, but you're not that sort of woman and I love you for it. We have got away without hurting anyone. Only ourselves.”
She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. ”Everything will be so empty once you're gone. So pointless. There will be no more magic, just soil and plants like every other garden in the world.”
He looked at her with fire in his eyes. ”The magic is deep in the earth, Ava. It will always be there because we sowed it. Don't ever forget that.”
They made love one last time as the rain rattled against the windows. ”One day I'll come back to this cottage and reclaim you,” he said, kissing her temple. ”I'll find you here, waiting for me, and nothing will have changed. The teacups will be on the table, the kettle hot and a fresh coffee cake, your very best, to welcome me home. This is our special place. Leave it as it is. As a shrine to us, so that one day, when I come back, it will be like yesterday. I will walk in as if I have only been away for an hour and we will pick up where we left off. We will look older, a little frayed at the edges, a little wiser, but our love won't have changed. I will take you to France and we will sow our magic in the gardens of Les Lucioles and live out the rest of our days together.”
”What a beautiful dream,” she sighed, burying her face in his neck.
”If we dream hard enough it might come true. Like your silly pink in between the green and the blue. If we look hard enough we may see it.”
”We'll create a rainbow to last,” she whispered, no longer able to restrain her tears.
She stood in the doorway and watched him walk away. It was as he wanted, a small bag in his hand, as if he were only going for an hour. She watched until he was out of sight, walking down the river towards the village where he would take a taxi to the station. He hadn't wanted to say good-bye to the children or Phillip; he didn't think he could bear it. Instead, he had kissed the woman he loved and taken her love with him.
No one else seemed in the least surprised that Jean-Paul had gone, though Phillip was a little put out that he hadn't bothered to say good-bye. It was the end of the summer and he had always said he would stay a year. Hector and Ava continued in the gardens as they always had. But Hector missed him, too. Ava wondered whether he knew about their affair; he looked at her with such sympathy in his eyes, as if he understood her pain. The children went back to school and Phillip finished his book. Toddy took Ava riding on the hills and noticed that the bounce had gone from her step and that she had lost her glow. She suspected it had something to do with Jean-Paul, but for once she kept her thoughts to herself. When Ava had told her that Jean-Paul had left, she had tried so hard to mask her pain, but Toddy had seen it behind her eyes and in the way she had averted her gaze. She knew if she pressed her on the subject she would cause her friend terrible suffering. Ava would tell her when she was ready. In the meantime, she stayed close, as an old and trusted friend, giving comfort with her familiar presence.
Ava wandered around the gardens like a specter. Alone at night she sat on the bench beneath the mountain ash, recalling their relations.h.i.+p in painstaking detail, from the day they met to the day they parted, until finally she withdrew to the cottage where she began her sc.r.a.pbook, sticking in petals from the flowers they had planted together and leaves from trees and shrubs that held a special significance for them. She wrote poems, descriptions of the gardens, lists of the things she loved the most from the morning light on the lawn to snowdrops peeping through frost. She wrote because it was cathartic and because her memories relieved the pain.
Jean-Paul returned to France, his heart bleeding from a wound that would never heal. His life stretched out before him like an eternal sea upon which he would drift, abandoned and alone, like the Flying Dutchman. He had no desire to discuss his feelings, but his father picked him up at the airport and drove him home, and he found himself confiding his hurt. To Jean-Paul's surprise, Henri didn't berate him as his mother had done, but smiled indulgently. ”Look,” he began when they were on the open road. ”Let's talk man to man.” Jean-Paul was in no mood for one of his father's lectures. ”I make it no secret that I have lived half my life in Paris with Yvette. There is nothing wrong with a man taking a mistress. There's a great deal wrong with a man wanting to marry his mistress. Especially if the woman in question is Ava Lightly.”
”I didn't plan to fall in love with her, Papa.”
”I don't question your taste, Jean-Paul. In fact, I admire it. She's a rather fascinating woman. But you have a responsibility at Les Lucioles. You are my only son and I need you to produce an heir to continue after you are gone. Ava has her own family. Nothing will come from a relations.h.i.+p with her. She is as dry as the desert. You need a fertile young filly...”
”I don't want anyone else,” Jean-Paul interrupted.
”I'm not asking you to fall in love with another woman. I didn't fall in love with your mother. I admired her, respected her. I knew she would be good for me and Les Lucioles and I was right. Look what she has done to the gardens! She created them out of nothing and now they are the envy of France. She is the perfect hostess to my clients. The perfect chatelaine. A good wife and mother. It is a shame she did not bear me more children. Tant pis! Marry a lady like I did. Take a mistress. But Ava is the wife of my friend and therefore she is out of bounds. Cut your losses and thank the stars that Phillip never found out.”
”I don't want to marry a woman I don't love,” Jean-Paul began, but he knew his father wouldn't understand.
”Love,” he said dismissively. ”Love with your head, not with your heart. That is the advice I give to you.” He patted his son's knee and his voice softened. ”I admire you for walking away, though. For leaving without causing ripples. Had Ava not been married she would have made the perfect wife for Les Lucioles. You are not far off the mark. Find another Ava.”
”There is only one.”
Henri shook his head and chuckled. ”You are young. You will learn that no woman is unique. But if you marry your mistress, you create a vacancy.”
As the car swept up the drive to the chateau Jean-Paul felt more isolated than ever. Without Ava by his side its beauty was an affront. He wished the sky were gray and the vines less luxuriant. It was indecent that the place should vibrate with such magnificence when his heart was so full of unhappiness. The dogs trotted out to greet him and he patted their heads and rubbed his face into their necks.
”Go and see your mother,” said Henri. ”She is beside herself. She thinks this is all her fault.”
Jean-Paul found his mother on her knees beside the dovecote, pulling out weeds. When she turned to greet him he could see that she had been crying. ”Maman?” he inquired anxiously, hurrying to her side to embrace her. ”I'm so sorry that I've caused you pain.”
”It is all my fault,” she whispered, taking his hand. ”I encouraged her to persuade you to return to England. She must have thought I condoned the affair. But I didn't know. I was only thinking of you. I didn't consider her, not for a moment.”
”It's not your fault. I was already in love with her. If she hadn't come I would have returned to her in the end.”
Antoinette's voice hardened. She looked at him steadily. ”But you won't ever go back, will you, Jean-Paul?” When he hesitated, she pressed him further. ”Your father has made my life a misery because of Yvette. Don't ruin Phillip's life. Think of the children.”
”We have both thought of nothing but the children. That is why I am here.”
Her shoulders drooped. ”Thank G.o.d.” She pushed herself up. Jean-Paul followed her back through the gate to the chateau. ”You are young. You will love again. You can't see it now, but you will. The heart has a miraculous way of mending. You think it is not strong enough to withstand such pain and yet it survives to love again.
”Find a girl who can make you happy and give you children. Fill Les Lucioles with love and laughter. Don't be like your father. Make her happy in return by remaining faithful to her as your father should have remained loyal to me. Forget the past. Look at this beautiful corner of Bordeaux. It is ripe for a new family and a new beginning. You will promise me, Jean-Paul?”
”I will try.”
She stopped on the lawn and turned to him, determined to bring the matter to a close. ”No, you will promise me. I'm your mother and I love you. You're all I have. I know what is best for you. Don't contact her again. Leave her in peace with her family. Please, Jean-Paul. If you want to be happy, consign her to the past and let her go.”
”I will wait for her children to grow up. When they no longer need her she will come to me.”
”Eh bien, let us leave it at that,” she conceded, certain that he would forget about Ava in time and marry someone else. ”Come now, I want to show you what I have planted in the orchard.” He let her slip her hand through his arm and walk him back up the garden.
Jean-Paul felt a small spark ignite in the stone chambers of his heart. For the first time since leaving her he felt uplifted. He would nurture the gardens and tend the vineyard, plant more trees and shrubs and expand the land. He would channel his love into Les Lucioles so that when she finally came home she would see what a paradise he had built for her. She would know that he had never stopped loving her.
It was in the cottage that Ava began to feel sick, a continuous nausea that she put down to misery. She didn't want to eat and only Coca-Cola calmed her stomach. She drank it by the can, lying on the bed beneath the eaves, writing her sc.r.a.pbook in her pretty looped handwriting. The days wore on. If it wasn't for the approaching autumn she noticed in the cooler wind and shorter days and in the gradual fading of color in her garden, all the days would have merged into one long, miserable day. She wanted to write to Jean-Paul, or telephone him just to hear his voice, but she knew it was useless. Only time would dull the pain of their parting and she had to give herself that. So she wrote the sc.r.a.pbook with the intention of one day giving it to him so that he would know how much she had missed him. That she had never given up.
”You're looking rather pale, Shrub,” said Phillip one evening during dinner. ”You're not eating. Are you unwell?”
”I don't think so. I just feel tired and deflated. Must be the weather.”
”Nonsense. I think you're pregnant.”
Ava was astonished. ”Pregnant? Do you think?”
”Absolutely. You're feeling sick. You're tired all the time. You're not eating. There's nothing physically wrong with you. Why don't you get one of those kits they're always advertising and check.”
”I hope you're wrong.”
”Why? It wasn't so long ago that you yearned for another child.” He took her hand. ”Perhaps your wish has been granted. Why not, eh? We make such charming children.” Ava paled at the thought of another baby. Then a small spark of optimism ignited in her heart. If she was pregnant, it could be Jean-Paul's baby. She put her hand across her lips to hide her smile. Jean-Paul's baby. She barely dared cast the wish.
The following day she drove to the chemist and bought a kit. With trembling fingers she dipped the stick into her urine, then waited. She closed her eyes and wished: If there is a G.o.d please give me the blessing of Jean-Paul's child so that I may keep a part of him to love. I haven't hurt anyone. I've sacrificed my love for my husband and children. A baby shall be my reward, were I to deserve it. She opened her eyes to see the clear blue stripe of a positive result. She was indeed pregnant.
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