How would they ever tell Luca about David’s death? “I understand. I am so sorry for him losing his mother and David.”
“I am too, but Luca is resilient and a joyful child. I always reward him after a medical visit, and he would like to go to Strasbourg for a boat ride to view Christmas lights. Would you like to join us?”
Words stuck in her throat. She wanted to yell yes, but darkness encroached, squelching her words. She squeezed her eyes and opened them, searching for something to focus on. The gilt-framed photo of Frédéric Bartholdi had occupied the same place on the wall when she and David honeymooned here, inspiring them to visit his home and view his models for his Statue of Liberty.
“Claire? Are you there?”
She shook her head to free herself of memories. “Yes. I…”
“Are you worried you will become upset?”
“How did you know that?”
“I would feel the same. If we meet at your hotel, I’ll bring the envelope for you. After I introduce you, you can excuse yourself to take the envelope to your room, which will give you time to collect yourself. If it’s not enough time, I will send Luca to speak to the owner about a wine delivery. We will wait. Is that an okay plan?”
She laughed. “You are so very kind and thoughtful, Gilbert. Yes. I think that is a very good plan. Does Luca speak English?”
“Better than I do. We will arrive at ten, if that is good?”
“Yes. Of course.” She drummed her fingers on the glass. “Gilbert?”
“Oui?”
She took a long swallow of wine. “Did David see Luca every time he visited the winery?”
“Yes.” His voice was soft, as if the word might bruise her.
“Luca must miss him very much.”
“He does. He asked about David nearly every day before…Sophie passed.”
Something twisted in Claire. The poor child was still grieving for his mother. This was no time to give him another shock.
“Does Luca know David was married…not to Sophie, but to me?”
“No.”
“But when he learns the truth, he’ll know we lied to him.” Her heartbeat raced.
“If he knows you are David’s wife, he will ask you about him. Better he does not know that David passed. Luca has been mourning his maman for the past year. The anniversary of her death is Christmas Eve. I don’t know how much more he can take. And I cannot bear to see the anguish on his face, again.”
Claire ran her hands over the shiny and rough damask fabric of the armchair. She had done plenty of lying in her life, but never to a child. She couldn’t imagine herself telling a child whose mother had died that his father was also dead.
“I think it best we do not tell him now. Let him get to know you as a friend I met at the hotel who is interested in wine. That is not such a big lie.”
She massaged her thumb. “You know what is best for Luca.”
“Bien, à demain, sorry, until tomorrow.”
She inhaled and forced her lips around the words. “Bien, à demain.”
She stared out the window, trying to fathom how David could laugh and play with his son and leave him. And not share Luca with her. Why did David agree to something that must have brought him such joy, yet also pain? Visiting Luca must have filled his heart with joy to overflowing yet torn his heart every time he left.
Claire wanted to call Marti, but due to the time difference she didn’t want to interrupt her work with her patients. Texting her would disrupt her day, and she didn’t want to infringe on her clinic time. Would Marti think not telling Luca about David’s death was okay? She turned out the lights and sat on the couch opposite the window, Elvis crying about a blue Christmas faintly echoing in the courtyard.
Sister Georgette’s kitchen had so warmed her. She’d not thought about Lucille and Carmine in such a long time, yet the memory brought tears and longing and regret. She would try to reconnect with them when she returned. Lucille had been warmer to her in one day than her mother had been in Claire’s entire lifetime. And she imagined Carmine as the dad she never had.
Had Claire’s mother’s mother been cold to her daughter? Except when Claire confronted her on Christmas, her mother never spoke of her parents, and Claire never met them. Until that conversation, she hadn’t known she had grandparents. She’d searched for photographs of her grandparents in her mother’s papers but not found any photos, documents, mementos, souvenirs. It seemed her mother had not wanted to leave so much as her footprint on life.
