Page 71 of The Magic of Provence

What if he could get past the fear of the ultimate vulnerability of telling someone that you were in love with them, that you wanted to share your life with them, and be able to face the risk of a rejection that could destroy you?

What if he could find the courage to tell Fiona how he felt about her?

And that it didn’t matter if she couldn’t have babies herself. There were other ways to create a family, weren’t there?

* * *

The days only seemed to get hotter as summer neared its end.

Laura and Noah were talking about putting a swimming pool into their garden.

Julien and Ellie purchased a flash new barbecue for their garden and invited the whole family and Christophe for dinner on their terrace the day it was delivered. They had more to celebrate than the gourmet outdoor kitchen they were creating. Jeannie and Gordon were coming back soon for a visit. Gordon was missing his studio in the old barn and they were both missing France, they said. They were missing their ‘girls’ – their daughters and granddaughters.

It had been very obvious for some time on video calls that the Gilchrist parents’ reunion was entering a new phase and they were closer than ever.Happierthan ever. They’d had a wonderful summer – they’d even been swimming at the beach – and taking Gordon back to Scotland had been the best idea. Both the environment and the therapies he was receiving were helping good memories to sift slowly back and the bad ones to be modified. The suggestion that they might look for a little house in France to share had been casually thrown into more than one conversation recently. Everyone who knew them on the French side of the channel agreed that they both looked years younger. They really did look like a couple in love.

So here they all were, meeting to talk about the upcoming visit, where Jeannie, and possibly Gordon, would want to stay and whether Noah should line up a few houses for them to look at. They had gathered on the Rousseaus’ terrace with its rustic wooden table that had long bench seats on either side, beneath a grapevine so lush it was sending out tendrils long enough for Theo to be able to jump up and catch the lowest leaves.

At the far end of the terrace, Noah and Christophe were admiring the features of the shiny, stainless-steel barbecue, watching Julien turn sausages on the grill with a pair of long tongs. The aroma of the Provençal herbs in the pork sausages was already scenting the air with flavours like thyme, oregano, marjoram and tarragon.

The men had glasses of red wine in their hands and, judging by their gestures, shrugs and animated conversation, they were discussing the order in which to cook the rest of the array of meat, seafood and vegetables on the side wings of the central grill plates and hooded temperature-controlled oven. They had plenty of choice with steaks, chicken kebabs and prawns to add to the sausages. Heidi and Pascal were lying in the shade nearby, clearly hoping that they were going to share whatever it was that smelled so good.

The Gilchrist sisters had all made their favourite salads.Insalata Capresefor Ellie, with its sliced mozzarella cheese and tomatoes, fresh basil leaves and olive oil. Asalade niçoisefor Fi – without anchovies, of course – not just because she loved the flavours and freshness but because it was always going to remind her of the romantic lunch she’d shared with Christophe in Annot.

For Laura, it was a classic Frenchsalade verte, a simple bowl of the freshest green lettuce leaves with a dressing she had perfected, deliciously aromatic with Dijon mustard, fresh garlic and lemon juice.

‘I’ve got a potato gratin in the oven, too,’ Ellie said.

‘And I’ve got heaps of bread. French baguettes and Italian ciabatta.’ Laura laughed. ‘All we’d need is some Scottish plain breid and we’d have covered all cultural bases. I’ll go and start slicing it up for the baskets.’ She turned to hold out her hand to Lili, who was walking quite confidently now as long as she had a hand to hang onto. ‘Coming to help Mammy, poppet?’

Ellie had Bonnie in her arms. ‘I should go and check on the potato gratin.’

They both turned as they heard Theo’s cry of pain. The small boy was clutching a handful of grape leaves but he’d missed his footing as he’d jumped and was now sitting on the paving stones with a freshly grazed knee and a face that advertised he was about to start crying.

Julien turned, tongs in one hand and his wine in the other but Ellie moved faster.

‘Here,’ she said to Fi. ‘Take Bonnie for me.’

Without waiting for a response, she shoved her baby into Fi’s arms and went to Theo. When Julien saw the way his son held up his arms to Ellie he gave a nod and turned back to his task. Ellie carried Theo into the house and Fi was left on the terrace alone.

Holding Bonnie.

The baby she had, so far, managed to avoid holding like this.

She could have followed Ellie into the house and got Laura to rescue her but… she couldn’t move. The weight of the baby was so warm and surprisingly solid and Bonnie was awake and looking back at her. For a long, long moment, they simply stared at each other.

And then Bonnie smiled at her. A smile that grew into a wide, gummy grin and looked as though she was using her whole body to produce it. Bonnie was fair beaming at her – as if Fi was the best thing to happen to her all day.

It was impossible not to smile back. Not to feel her heart filling up and overflowing with love for this small human who was part of her family and would be part of her life forever. She would be able to share all her milestones of taking her first steps and saying her first words. She would be there to cuddle her if she was sad and put a plaster on an ouchie like Ellie was doing for Theo at the moment. Maybe she would be there to celebrate this child’s graduation from university or watch her walk down an aisle to marry the love of her life.

The things she would never be able to do with the baby she could have had.

It was then that Fi realised she wasn’t alone with Bonnie any longer. Christophe had left Julien and Noah to supervise the barbecue and he had a hip perched on the end of the long table, his body very still, his eyes resting on her and a smile that barely tilted his lips but somehow reflected the kind of huge emotions that Fi was suddenly struggling with, like loss. And guilt.

His voice had a note in it she’d never heard before.

‘You would be the best mother ever,’ he said softly. ‘I can feel the love from all the way over here.’

Fi had to blink back tears. ‘I told you… I can’t…’

---