“No, I hear you. Mom said she was leaving?” Sam stood, then sat down. This messed with everything he’d believed for fifteen years. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted you to believe the best of her. You knew things weren’t always great between us, that we’d been in counseling for over a year. What we didn’t want you to see was that we weren’t going to make it. Your mom wanted out way more than me. She’d been talking to a friend in Charleston for months. Your mom was on her way out the door six months before she left.”
“She told me she moved back to Charleston because Gramps and Grandma needed her.”
“Right. I told her you needed her, but she was enamored with this guy from her old high school. Didn’t last. Do you talk to your mother much?”
“Now and then. She sends me people who want to meet the Titans quarterback. I think it’s her way of relating to me.”
Frank laughed. “Now I’ve never done that…”
“No, you haven’t.”
“As for my faith, you’re right. I lost my way for a while. I wasn’t in a good place with God when your mother and I had our troubles. But Janice and I are members of the Sunday faithful these days.” Dad reached across and touched Sam’s hand. “Don’t base your hope in love and God on me. Base them on Him alone. Talk to Him. Trust in Him. Especially if you’re serious about Chloe.”
Sam was on his feet, walking toward his father, who stood, meeting him in a bear hug. “Dad, I’m sorry, so sorry. I’ve judged you all these years and it was Mom too.” The sting of tears surprised him. “Forgive me for being such a jerk.”
“Of course, of course, and please, I know I failed you. I’m sorry for my part, Sammy, I truly am.”
And just like that, the truth set him free.
Dad invited him to dinner the next week. Sam promised to call and arrange a time. But as he walked out to his car, he knew he had one more call to make. One more truth to be told.
He’d have a lot to talk to Chloe about over dinner tonight.
Settled behind the wheel of his Range Rover, Sam started the car then told Siri, “Call Mom, iPhone.”
He was going to ask for her side of the story, for the truth, and to stop sending him people who loved the Titans. He was going to be a Raider for the next season of his life. But, if at all possible, he’d just like to be her son again, not her famous NFL quarterback.
17
If Chloe had held any trepidation about returning to France, they vanished the moment she landed in her old homeland. The mid-day sun was just breaking through the vanishing rain clouds as her driver took her to her in-laws’ home in the Bastille neighborhood where she’d worked, where she’d lived with and loved Jean-Marc.
The reunion had been tender with tears, sweet with laughter and memories, cozy with one of Vivienne’s delicious dinners followed by coffee on their back porch. However, when Chloe asked about the surprise she’d flown four thousand miles to receive, they said, “Tomorrow morning, ma chère.”
She’d texted Sam just before collapsing in her bed from jet lag. All is well. Love you.
She slept long and hard and now, Wednesday morning, after a breakfast of café au lait and croissants, she was riding in Albert’s Mercedes down a familiar road. She, Vivienne, and Albert chatted of nothing much as the driver navigated them out of the chaos of the city traffic and into the suburbs. As the cityscape faded into countryside, Chloe lowered her window and breathed in the fresh air of Deux Jardins. She loved this little town.
This was where she and Jean-Marc were going to?—
“Vivienne, Albert, the café? Is that the surprise?” She pressed her hand on her father-in-law’s shoulder. He peered at her over his dark-rimmed glasses and smiled. “The café I loved? No, please tell me he did not buy the café?”
The driver turned the car into a graveled drive and circled a small, white-stoned building. The café. Her dream. Their dream. Jean-Marc had believed in her enough to buy her a building. That must be where their savings had gone.
Her memory of their last argument, in the bedroom of their Paris flat, still haunted her. Jean-Marc’s stoic expression as he asked if she was certain about not accompanying him to Zermatt, even though he was the one reneging. He’d promised to help her with the Moveable Feast. “Just stay and work. Work until your arms are covered by burns and your fingers are calloused. We both know you’ll never allow yourself to believe you’re enough. But you are, chère cœur. You are more than enough.” Then he’d made that cryptic comment about how she’d love him more after the trip, picked up his duffel, and left.
“We are here, mon amour. Café LaRue.” Vivienne placed a set of keys in Chloe’s hand. “We are only calling it Café LaRue for now. You may name it whatever you like.”
“No, no, that’s the name.” Chloe nearly stumbled getting out of the car. “We were going to call it Café LaRue.” The white stone glowed in the morning sunlight, a juxtaposition to the stained and broken roof tiles and very dead garden. But it was beautiful. Glorious. It was home.
“The cottage goes with it.” Albert pointed to the structure down the road with flowered window boxes. “The former owner still lives there for now. He’s renting from us. It’s in good shape so all your money can go into the café.”
“Money?” She stared at her father-in-law. “I don’t have any money.”
“No, ma chére, but we do. Jean-Marc wanted this for you and so do we.”
“I don’t know…what…? I can’t.” Chloe held up the keys. “I’m not really your daughter-in-law anymore. And I think I’m in love with another man.” Think? Yes, she was in love with Sam. “I can’t accept this. It’s too much.”
