French Escape. Barbara McMahon
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willingly give his heart as hostage to fate again.
The water was cool and buoyant. He swam some distance from the shore. When he paused to tread water, he studied the village from his vantage point. Fishing boats bobbed in the marina to his far right. There were several establishments that had patios dotted with tables facing the sea, with tourists enjoying the afternoon sun.
It was good to swim after the climb. Later he’d eat in the village and see what activities were planned for La Fête de la Victoire de 1945 this weekend. He expected the small village to celebrate in a big way. Not that he planned to celebrate. He remembered—then banished the memory from his mind. He would not think of other fetes and how he and his family had celebrated. The year before last had been the worst. The first of every holiday without Marabelle and Etienne had been the hardest, at least that’s what everyone told him when he’d growled like a bear in pain if anyone in the family wished him happy. He felt all holidays proved hard now.
Refreshed by his swim, Matt headed for the shore. He had no sooner stepped from the water than Alexandre raced across the sand to join him. Toweling off, he was touched by the child’s trust and desire to spend time with him. His cousin candidly told him he was a bear to be around.
If anyone had told him a week ago that he’d be entertained by a small boy at the side of the sea, he’d have called the person crazy. But sitting beside Alexandre listening to him talk was as enjoyable as anything he’d done lately. The child didn’t need encouragement; his running monologue continued with only an occasional hmm from Matt.
The self-imposed exile from all things familiar meant he had more time to think than he normally had. Spending time with Alexandre kept thoughts away—except about the child’s mother. He looked back, but the women were gone from the veranda. It surprised him she trusted a stranger with her son. Then she stepped out and looked toward them, waving once. So she was keeping an eye on them.
Matt turned back to face the sea. This was a one-off deal. Tomorrow he’d make sure not to return to the inn until too late to be beguiled by a little boy.
“About ready to head back?” Matt asked the boy as the afternoon waned. A quick shower and he’d be back downstairs seeking a good restaurant for dinner.
“Do we have to?” Alexandre asked, looking up at Matt. “This is fun.”
“I need to shower and get ready for dinner,” he said, pulling his T-shirt back on. He wanted to rinse off the salt water and get into clean clothes. Standing, he looked out at the sea. This trip had been a good idea. While he’d hoped the intense concentration required for climbing would cause his focus to change, being with this boy surprisingly also helped. How unexpected!
Alexandre rose and trotted along beside Matt as they headed back to the inn. When they drew closer, Matt saw Jeanne-Marie with an older couple on the veranda. The woman had brown hair and wore expensive slacks. The older man was dressed casually.
Alexandre stopped when he saw them and grinned. “It’s my grand-mère and grand-père! Come on.” He began running toward the veranda.
Jeanne-Marie glanced over her mother-in-law’s shoulder and saw Matt walking toward them, Alexandre racing ahead. The unexpected arrival of Adrienne and Antoine Rousseau surprised her. They hadn’t called, just driven over from Marseilles. Her son had seen them and was running to greet them. Every time she saw them together reaffirmed the wisdom of her staying in France even when her parents urged her to return home.
Adrienne saw her glance for she turned. Spotting Alexandre she smiled, then faltered when she saw a stranger.
“Who’s that man?” she asked.
Antoine turned, frowning.
Jeanne-Marie waited a moment until the two were closer. “This is one of my guests, Matthieu Sommer. He graciously agreed to watch Alexandre play by the water.”
“Hi,” Alexandre said, reaching the older couple. Both reached out to hug him.
By the time Matt stepped on the cool tiles of the veranda, he was close enough for introductions.
“Matthieu Sommer, my in-laws, Adrienne and Antoine Rousseau.”
Antoine offered his hand.
Matt shook it, greeted Madame Rousseau and then headed into the inn.
Jeanne-Marie knew she would be questioned by Adrienne. Turning, she smiled brightly.
“Would you like to stay for dinner?” she asked.
“I’ll take us all out to dinner,” Antoine said, “so you don’t have to cook. We wanted to talk about summer plans. We hope Alexandre can come visit sometimes, and give you a break.”
“The summer months are always so busy. I remember from when I was a girl and lived here,” Adrienne said.
“I’ll clean up Alexandre and we’d be delighted to join you. Perhaps you’d like a glass of lemonade while you wait?”
“We’ll be fine. We’ll sit here on the veranda. Hurry, Alexandre,” Adrienne said. “We want to hear all about what you’ve been doing.”
He grinned and raced into the lounge. Jeanne-Marie caught up with him when they entered their private quarters.
“Can Matt eat with us?” he asked when she took him into the bathroom to give him a quick wash.
“We don’t eat with guests as a rule,” she murmured. She hoped he wouldn’t mention the meal she’d given Matt last night. She also hoped Adrienne and Antoine didn’t read more into Matt’s watching Alexandre than was there. There was nothing to talk about, and she didn’t want her in-laws to get the wrong impression.
Forty minutes later Jeanne-Marie and the Rousseaus entered the town’s most elegant restaurant, Les Trois Filles en Pierre. They were soon seated at a round table with a view of the sea. When Jeanne-Marie looked up from her menu, her gaze was caught by Matthieu Sommer sitting directly in her line of sight. She blinked. How had he chosen the same restaurant as they? And beat them here to boot?
“There’s Matt. Can he eat with us?” Alexandre asked, waving at the man. “He’s my friend. He’ll be lonely eating by himself.”
“I’m sure he can manage,” Antoine said, studying the menu. He glanced up at Jeanne-Marie. “Unless you think he should join us for some reason.”
She shook her head. “He’s a guest at the inn, nothing more.” Good heavens, she did not want her in-laws to think she was seeing the man.
She frowned and bent her head as if she were studying the menu. What would they think if she ever did become interested in another man? It didn’t mean she loved Phillipe any less. Still, in all likelihood, they’d feel threatened that someone else was trying to take their son’s place.
“Ready to order?” Antoine asked.
She focused on the listings and blotted out all thoughts of falling for anyone. It was unlikely. She thought she was over Phillipe’s death, but to make a life with someone else would be too strange.
“Why can’t Matt eat with us?” Alexandre asked.
“Really, Alexandre. The man’s a paying guest at your mother’s establishment. Not a friend,” Adrienne said, scolding.
“He is, too, my friend, isn’t he, Mama?”
“An acquaintance, at least,” Jeanne-Marie said. “But your grandparents want to spend the dinner with you and me, not someone they don’t know.”
Alexandre got a mulish look to his face and slumped down in his chair, kicking his foot against one of the legs.
“Sit up, Alexandre,” Antoine ordered sharply.
“I don’t have to,” he replied, not looking at his grandfather.
Not wanting to cause a scene, Jeanne-Marie leaned over and spoke softly into Alexandre’s ear. After only