“Oh, great.” She fell back into the pillow.
“Do you recall what you said when I asked you why you were afraid of having kids?”
“That I’d be a bad mother.”
“Might that be because youhada bad mother?”
“She wasn’t bad, just cold.”
“Not if she nearly let you drown. She was neglectful. Remember your last Christmas with her, when she neglected to have food in the house? I hope you understand that by risking your own life, you did exactly what every good mother would have done for her own child.”
“I did?”
“You would have made a wonderful mother, Claire. But you need to learn how to swim. Gilbert said he performed CPR on you until the paramedics arrived. You weren’t breathing on your own.”
“He…didn’t tell me.” She rubbed her breastbone. “That’s why my chest hurts.”
“He cares deeply for you. I think the poor man was in tears when he told me, but I don’t know for sure because I was already crying, myself.”
“I care about them too.” She had cared about Luca since her first glimpse of his photo, and she’d cared about Gilbert the morning he’d taken her to the patisserie. She inhaled calming breaths. But she didn’t know whether she should let them know she cared. She didn’t know how to…behave. Did she trust them? Did she love them? Yes. She loved and trusted them. Both of them. Gilbert a little differently, but, underneath the obvious attraction, she loved him. She didn’t want to leave them. She couldn’t leave Luca. How did David leave his son?
Her mind whirled. David had been a loving, caring, generous husband, but she wanted more than love and security. She craved…closeness. She had missed that opportunity with David—she’d built a wall between them that distanced them, probably because she hadn’t been close to knowing all of herself.
She wanted to truly know Luca and Gilbert. She knew some of Luca and Gilbert’s losses, their grief, and their happiness. She wanted to share all of it—disappointments, successes, failures, triumphs—everything.
She didn’t want to be protected from the dark ugliness that lurked inside of her, like a mythological Kraken. She wanted to expose the giant octopus and release herself from its terrible tentacles. That Kraken was a part of her, but it wasn’t who she was. She was a loving and kind person, who was also frightened.
“Claire?” Marti’s voice brought her back to the hospital room. “I said, do you see the irony that you spent most of your career designing a swimsuit with a built-in life-preserver?”
“What?” Claire sat straight up. “I think I started that when I was at boarding school. While other girls were stuffing their bras with socks, I was stuffing bikini tops with inflated balloons and blocks of Styrofoam. Why did the irony never occur to me? Why was I so obsessed?”
“You wanted to save people, like you saved Luca…and like someone saved you when you were a child.” Marti hummed a lullaby, a bit of which Claire recognized, something having to do with pretty horses.
Claire rested back against the pillows, entranced by comfort, but she straightened. How had she known that lullaby?All the pretty little horses.Had a nun sung it to her? She pressed her fingers to her temples, but the image didn’t arrive. “I love you, Marti. I need to think through a lot of stuff. Especially why David never told me about Luca, but I’m so tired. Okay if I call you tomorrow?”
“Of course. Call anytime and often, otherwise, I’m booking a flight, and they’re not cheap!”
Love flooded Claire as she said goodbye and put her phone away.
Darkness yawned before her. She searched for a thread that would lead her to a long-buried memory. The muddy scent of the Ill River had caused her to shiver, and the sound of rushing water had made her feel clammy. Whatever she wasn’t remembering happened at a river.
She had to build up her courage to ask Gilbert for his help. She knew whatever she was hiding was going to be painful when she finally dragged it into the light. Fighting the Kraken in her was going to be a terrible battle.
She ate one of Sister Georgette’s cookies. Ate another. And another. She wished she’d bought another box.
Chapter 25
JingleBellRockblaredover the car speakers as Gilbert drove south on the Wine Route. Luca, singing at the top of his lungs, hugged Remy in the backseat. Claire sat in the front, Remy’s hot panting warming the back of her neck. She owed her life to Remy’s cousin, who’d ripped her sweater, and, in honor of him, she’d be buying Remy bones for the rest of his dear life.
She planned on being a good guest, wouldn’t cause any trouble at all, wouldn’t disrupt their routine. They wouldn’t even know she was there with them. She’d pick up after herself, help with the cooking and the dishes and laundry, and play ball with Remy. And she wouldn’t stay a day longer than she had to. David would want her to stay with them, wouldn’t he?
They arrived at the château, and, on shaky legs, she accepted Gilbert’s hand as he helped her out of the car.
Luca raced ahead, opened the hand-carved wooden door sporting a wreath trimmed in silver beads and an owl ornament, and held out his hands. “Close your eyes, Madame Claire. We have a surprise for you.”
Squeezing her eyes shut, she held Luca’s hands and allowed him to lead her. He stopped. “D’accord. Regarde!”
A Christmas tree, decorated with white lights and bird, dog, cow, fish, monkey, giraffe, peacock, piglets, and elephant ornaments soared in the corner, reminding her of the ornaments she and her friends made at the convent. Her poodle ornament would have fit right in. The cozy living room was tastefully furnished with antique pine tables, a leather couch, and green velvet covered chairs. Gilbert crouched down and lit a fire in a fireplace that was the size of her master bathroom in Seattle.
