Invitation to Provence(84)

He downed the drink and ordered another. He bought a Nice-Matin and as he read the report of the conflagration at the Villa Marten, the rage burned harder in his chest. He sat for a long time at the bar, drinking Ricard and thinking about his life and what to do, until he could bear it no longer. The decision was made. He was going home again. And this time Rafaella would not throw him out.





67





FRANNY WAS LYING perfectly still, but she had a sensation of flying at great speed down a long tunnel. She was weightless, the air against her cheek was soft and there was the scent of lilies. Her eyelids fluttered and she looked around her. The light was white, sharp, glaring. She tried to sit up but couldn’t move. Sudden panic made her tremble, and she wondered if she was a prisoner. But she couldn’t be because she was in a garden, she could smell the lilies.

She opened her eyes wider, saw a leg encased in plaster suspended in the air. Her leg. She moved her eyes to the right, saw an open window, heard the breeze rattle the shades … the same breeze she’d felt on her cheek as she raced through that dream tunnel. She slid her eyes to the left. A great vase of lilies stood on a table. Casablanca lilies. She thought she had dreamed them too, but they were real. She reached out a hand to touch them and pain, sharp as lightning, shot down her back. She let her hand fall onto the sheet, caught the glint of something. She lifted her hand slowly, staring at the pretty diamond on the third finger. And then she began to laugh.

It was the first thing Jake heard as he walked down the hospital corridor. Franny was laughing. She was back. His girl was here with him again.

Their eyes met across the stark hospital room. “You might have asked me first,” she said in a whisper, hoarse because there had been tubes down her throat and she hadn’t spoken in a quite a while.

He grinned. “I did ask, but you didn’t answer. But wherever you were, I wanted you to know you belonged to me and I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

“Okay,” she said. “Then why don’t you come over here and kiss me.”

And he did just that. Gently, tenderly, and with love.





68





AS SOON AS THEY had heard about the “accident,” Clare had driven immediately to Cannes. All those long days and nights when Franny was in a coma she’d sat stoically at her bedside, and now she was really mad to miss “the awakening.” But when she saw Franny, alert and smiling again, she finally cracked.

“Oh my god, I almost lost you,” she wailed, sobbing into a Kleenex. “And dammit Franny, I’d only just found you.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere,” Fanny said. She was still wearing the big plastic collar meant to prevent her from moving her neck that Jake said made her look like the German shepherd. “I have a surprise,” she said and she showed Clare her ring.

Clare said, “You and Jake were made for each other. That invitation was destiny, it brought you together. And by the way,” she added nonchalantly, “I’m engaged too, though I don’t have a ring yet to prove it.”

“Scott!” Franny’s eyes narrowed in a smile of satisfaction. “He’s perfect for you.”

“Hmm, actually no, it’s not Scott,” Clare said, looking as demure as was possible for her.

“Don’t tell me you’re going back to Marcus!” Franny looked shocked.

“Of course I’m not going back to Marcus. I’m divorcing that bastard as fast as I can so I can get married again. To Jarré,” she added, grinning at Franny’s look of astonishment.

“And all the time I thought you were just taking cooking lessons!” Franny said laughing.

“I was… . I am. I’m going to help Jarré with the café. I’ll be the commis, the sous chef, the waiter, the dishwasher—whatever my man needs, I’ll be it. Including his lover.” Clare looked hesitantly at her. “Truth is, Franny, we haven’t actually made love yet.” Eyes lowered, Clare inspected her unmanicured hands, adorned with several nicks from the restaurant knives. “I … well, I wanted to save that for after we’re married. I really want to be the ‘virgin bride’ for him. I was never that before and … well, you have to understand how good a man he is, how gentle, how caring, how …”

“Salt-of-the-earth.” Franny said it for her and they looked at each other and burst out laughing.





69





JAKE HAD NOT FORGOTTEN what he saw that night. And he had not forgotten about Criminal. He knew in his gut this was no accident. Alain had tried to kill them. He had an autopsy performed on the dog, and traces of rat poison were found in its stomach. It had been dead before the explosion. Obviously Alain had gotten rid of the dog first so he wouldn’t bark and sound the alarm.

Jake had his beloved friend cremated. Later he would take the ashes back to the cabin. He would stand on the mountainside and return Criminal to the elements, hoping that the wind in the tossing treetops might catch him and that he would find the ultimate freedom in the place he loved.

Meanwhile, Alain was alive. He was evil. He was dangerous. He would try again. With Alain still alive, nobody was safe. Especially Rafaella.

The thought came so clearly into Jake’s head, it stopped him in his tracks, as though Alain himself had transmitted it. Alain blamed Rafaella for everything that had gone wrong in his life. Rafaella would be Alain’s next target.