Gilbert bent down and lifted Luca, settling the boy on his shoulders. “Ready?”
“Allons-y!” Luca looked down at Claire. “That means, let us go!” His excited voice possessed David’s enthusiasm and joy.
Gilbert helped Claire stand and gave her the envelope. She picked up the box of cookies and walked to the front desk.
Madame Justine wiped her eyes and replaced her glasses. “Forgive me for listening, but I am so very sorry about Monsieur David,” she whispered.
“Thank you.” Claire held out the envelope. “Would you have someone put this in my room please?”
“I will do it, myself.”
Claire didn’t care that Madame Justine probably thought David had been unfaithful to her. What other people thought just didn’t matter. What mattered now was Luca. She didn’t know how she’d do it, but she would help him heal. And a couple of cookies could help them all feel a bit better for a few moments.
She walked out into the day, her heart heavy. Why did David not tell her about Luca, but he told Luca about her?
Chapter 19
LucasliddownfromGilbert’s shoulders and took her hand, leading her to a red SUV. She could have laughed at the brand, a Citroën, the type of car she and David had bought used—falling apart, really—for touring Europe on their honeymoon. Gilbert took the scenic Wine Route toward Strasbourg.
Questions pounded in her head. Her marriage was not the trusting relationship she’d thought it was. David hadn’t trusted her to discuss his becoming a donor much less tell her about Luca. Did he not talk to her for fear she’d object, and he wanted a child so badly he’d chosen not to risk telling her? Did having a son have anything to do with not making a will? Claire remembered discussing making wills, but it was one of those things she hadn’t gotten around to, and neither had David. It was unlike him not to have all his records up-to-date. She was the one who often had the overdrawn checking account, never him.
A burning sensation brushed the edges of her throat. But if he had drawn up a will, wouldn’t he have included a provision for Luca, or at least set up a trust for his college education? Did David fear her discovering Luca if he had a will?
David could have written a will and given it to his attorney with instructions not to reveal it to Claire until his death. David should have left instructions for an executor to set up a trust for Luca—even if was a shock to Claire, at least she would have known.
As the road curved, sunlight sparkled on the snow-covered mountains, blinding her. She didn’t want to admit the truth, but it was clear: David didn’t want her to know about Luca, even in death. A sound like cracking ice broke through every belief she held about her marriage. She had thought they were soulmates. She believed their marriage was based on trust and honesty. The reality was they were mates who kept secrets for the sake of their marriage.
The question of why David told Luca about her and not her about Luca burned a hole in her heart. Whatever the reason, the look of love for his Papa David on Luca’s face was worth every bit of pain and confusion Claire endured.
Luca’s voice brought her back from her thoughts to the car. “Those mountains—” he pointed, “they are the Vosges. And that castle? Built in the thirteenth century. I hope you have time to visit Kaysersberg. I take you, happily. In these vineyards…Riesling grapes.”
“How are you so young and knowledgeable?” Claire asked.
“I am not so young, I am almost eight.” He sat back. “Maman taught me.”
Claire checked Gilbert’s face. A mixture of, what she thought were, humor, pride, and grief tugged at his eyes.
“But Onc teaches me, now.”
“Why do you call Gilbert, Onc?”
Luca’s giggles bounced like bubbles. “When I learn to talk, I could not say the “cle” sound in oncle, the French word for uncle, so I called him Onc, with a long O.”
Claire repeated, “Onc.”
“Bien.” Luca clapped and turned. “Onc is not difficult to say. Try to say Riquewhir!”
Claire closed her eyes, fearing the word would bring tears. “What did Papa David tell you about me?”
“That you are very pretty—he was right. You travel much to India and China, is that right?”
She nodded. “I did.”
“Not anymore?” He leaned forward to peer at her between the seats.
“No…I was fired.” She laughed. Itwasfunny when she thought about it, now that there was no danger of the model being hurt.
“Fired is meaning no job?”
