The Winemaker's Wife(79)

“But,” he continued, “I’ve been realizing lately that perhaps living in the past means you don’t give yourself a chance to move into the future. When we talked that day at the brasserie about your life, it made me think of my own, too, and how I’ve been stopping myself from going forward. My possibilities are wide open, just like yours, and I think I needed to remember that. You, Liv, reminded me.”

“I’m so sorry about your wife,” Liv said as Julien took a step closer. “It’s the kind of loss I can’t even imagine.”

“Thank you. We all suffer losses. But it is how we choose to move ahead that matters, isn’t it? We must honor the past without turning our backs on the future.” He brushed a strand of her hair from her cheek, his hand lingering there against her face. “I hope that now that you know the truth, you do not think I was terribly out of line to kiss you.”

“No.” And then, summoning her courage, she closed the final inches between them and pressed her lips gently to his. His hands tangled instantly in her hair, and he tugged her toward him.

“Better later than never?” she asked, finally pulling away with a smile.

“I agree.” He laughed and stroked her cheek with his thumb. “As long as we can do it again.” He leaned in and kissed her, with more passion this time, his lips parting hers.

She kissed back, lost in the moment, until the sound of someone approaching snapped her out of it. She pulled back as she realized it was Grandma Edith standing there, blinking at them. Liv covered her mouth, embarrassed. “Grandma Edith, I—”

“If you’re done making out like a couple of teenagers, I’d like to go now, please,” her grandmother said.

Liv could feel her face flaming as Julien chuckled. “I’m afraid I’m to blame, Madame Thierry,” he said. “But I promise, I’m being a perfect gentleman.”

“Well, then,” Grandma Edith said, “we should probably depart before the two of you get any more amorous.”

She turned and walked back toward the hired car, without bothering to wait for them.

“I should, uh—” Liv gestured awkwardly after her grandmother.

Julien smiled. “Of course. May I call you later? Or should I let you get your grandmother settled first?”

“I’ll call you once she heads to bed for the night, if that’s all right.”

Julien leaned in and gave her a light kiss on the lips, lingering there for a few extra seconds. “Do you need me to follow you back now?” he asked as he stepped back. “Or do you think she’ll be all right?”

“I think she’ll be okay,” Liv said, touched by his concern. “At least she’s acting like herself again.” But by the time she climbed into the back seat beside Grandma Edith, the indignant energy seemed to have drained from the older woman. Now she sat slumped against the window, her eyes closed, her breathing rapid and shallow. “Are you—” Liv began to say.

“Please,” Grandma Edith said, her voice hoarse. “Don’t speak, Olivia. I’m perfectly fine. I’d just like some peace.”

Liv nodded, and as the driver started the car and pulled away, she watched out the window as Julien, and the Maison Chauveau, faded into the distance.





twenty-seven


MARCH 1943





INèS


Inès and Céline stood guard over Richter’s large, crumpled body for nearly ninety minutes, waiting for Michel and Theo to return. They couldn’t leave him alone, and they couldn’t move him, either—he was too heavy, and where would they put him anyhow?—but staying there beside him was torture. At least a dozen times, Inès tried to convince Céline to go aboveground to press a clean cloth to her tattered cheek, to rest in case the baby was in danger, but she had refused, saying that she couldn’t take the risk of leaving Inès alone with such a monster. “What if he wakes up?” she fretted aloud again and again.

Finally they heard the growl of an approaching car overhead. As brakes squealed and the engine cut off above them, the women exchanged worried glances. “Will you go up and make sure it’s Michel?” Inès asked.

Céline shook her head. “No, you go. I will watch Richter.”

“But—”

“You have already risked enough for me, Inès. I—I don’t deserve it.”

Inès hesitated before handing Richter’s pistol to Céline and heading for the stairs. Carefully, she emerged aboveground, and as her eyes adjusted to the moonlight, she recognized Michel’s car and exhaled in relief. He got out of the driver’s seat as Theo climbed from the passenger seat. “Michel!” Inès hissed.

He spun around, searching the darkness. “Inès? What are you doing out here?”

“Come quickly. There’s an emergency.”

When Theo followed, Inès didn’t try to stop him, though she wondered if she should. He hadn’t been involved until now in anything illegal taking place in the cellars. But there was no way Céline would be able to explain away the giant wound on her cheek, nor could Inès come up with a reason why Michel was needed in the cellars so urgently. So she stood silently aside as Michel and Theo rushed belowground. She took a deep swallow of the crisp evening air before following.