Perfect Freedom (12 page)

Reluctantly he drove back to St. Tropez the next day. He would have preferred to stay. He would have liked to make sure that Helene had a good rest and he wanted, too, during the difficult period of convalescence, to counterbalance her growing tendency to pamper the boy. Money finally settles everything, he thought bitterly. The admission went against the grain but the fact remained that he was no longer his own master.

There had been more wind while he was gone. He found several fallen branches around the house. His vegetable plot showed no signs of producing anything. Antonin had taken care of the animals but three pigeons had met mysterious deaths. Stuart made the rounds of the place in growing gloom and drove back into town to seek comfort with Odette. The thought of selling the place had moved into the front of his mind and he couldn't face it alone.

Odette received him, as always, as if she had been expecting him although he hadn't seen her for several weeks. His response was reserved. His mind was full of Robbie and Helene, and Odette's happy reception made him conscious by contrast of Helene's willingness to have him go. Money settles everything, he repeated to himself gloomily. Money had determined Odette's future, too. Irrationally he resented her for it. A fire burned brightly in her fireplace. She looked as if she had found a good life for herself.

“So you're in great difficulties?” she asked after he had told her of the events of the last weeks. The bare bulb hanging over the table highlighted the roguishness of her features so that for a moment he thought she was laughing at him. He took a long drink of the wine she had put before him.

“I'm thinking of getting rid of the place,” he said, trying it out for sound. Get rid of a dream, get rid of all the hopes and ambitions that its purchase had brought with it.

Odette lifted a hand and thoughtfully stroked her throat. It was a gesture full of poise and his resentment was superseded by astonished awareness of the change that had taken place in her since summer. She had become a woman. The breathless giggling girl had vanished. This discovery distracted his attention from his troubles.

“That would be dreadful,” she said.

“It's something I've got to consider. If all this had happened a little later it would have been different. The place would be paying its way.”

“How so?” she asked with a little frown. People who owned property managed to survive every crisis; when he was wearing his clothes, he possessed the godlike quality that placed him beyond the concerns of ordinary mortals.

“It's a matter of time. I was wrong to move when we did. I should have waited till spring. With a few months of good weather I could cut our living expenses to nothing.”

“Then you must hold on,” she said.

“It's not so easy with a wife and child. I can't subject them to real privation, especially now.”

“Don't say more. It's bad to talk about serious matters on an empty stomach. Mme. Muguette has given me some soup. It's good. I have bread and cheese. We'll have our first meal together.” She left him with a full glass in front of him and moved deftly around the room, placing a pot that was on the hearth in among the embers, bringing out bowls and spoons and the bread and cheese from behind the curtain, making cheerful comments on her limited domestic facilities. “This isn't much as a first meal. If you're going to be alone for the next few weeks, I can do better. Let me think. I could do eggs on the fire. And roast potatoes. I could even grill a fish. I must get a few more things, and open a restaurant. The soup will be hot in a moment. I must get candles, if not champagne, so you can seduce me. Will you let me cook for you often even if it's not very elegant?”

“It sounds wonderful,” he said, trying to respond to her generous concern for him.

She pulled the pot out of the fire and brought it to the table and filled the bowls. She was coming to a decision. She had gone over the possibilities and knew what she could do. It was something that her nature rebelled against but she could do it for him. It was
why
you did things that counted. He had taught her that. She sat with him and they took a few spoonfuls of the substantial soup.

“Mmm. It
is
good,” he said.

“Yes. Now we can talk seriously.” She looked at him, her mind made up. “I can get you money. I can start by paying back all you've given me.”

He wasn't surprised by the offer. It came naturally from this new assured Odette. “It's very good of you, but there's never been any question of paying back. Besides, it would only help out for a few weeks.”

“I can get enough,” she repeated firmly. Having said it, she was triumphant at finding their roles so unexpectedly reversed. It filled her with hope that this was the opportunity she had dreamed of. Perhaps he would be all hers. Being able to help him made anything seem possible.

“How?” he demanded.

“That's of no importance,” she said quickly. “In another month or so the weather will be good. If what you say is true, it's only a matter of a few months. I can manage it.”

“It's good of you but there's no point talking about it. I won't consider it.” He couldn't tell her how much he needed. Fifteen hundred dollars would seem a fortune to her. He hated to nip her generous impulse in the bud by mentioning the figure.

She lifted a hand palm out, emphatically. “You can't stop me,” she said. “It would be wicked for you to refuse to take the money if I go to the trouble to get it. You've said yourself that people aren't realistic about money.”

He hesitated a moment, looking into her eyes. He was not only touched by her but impressed. Looking back at the summer evening when he had first met her, remembering the hesitation with which he had proposed the weekly allowance, he realized that accepting money from her wouldn't represent failure. This wasn't the rich man's standard expedient of falling back on capital but an opportunity to benefit gratefully from an evolution of circumstances that he had had a part in creating. “Before I tell you how much, how do you intend to get it?” he asked again.

“I've never asked where you get
your
money.”

Fair enough, he thought, suppressing a smile. She would never have thought of such a reply six months ago. He held out his hand and she looked at it for a moment before she very deliberately put hers on top of it. It was like sealing an agreement; they had become partners as she had always wanted them to be.

“It's really not the same. I'm talking about quite a lot of money,” he pointed out. False pride wasn't involved but he had to be sure it would involve no sacrifice on her part. He named an approximate equivalent in francs. Her eyes widened, but only briefly. She seemed undaunted. “You see? There shouldn't be any secrets about this,” he added.

Her satisfaction at entrenching herself in his life enabled her to lie convincingly. “I've told you. I know people here now. Mme. Muguette has told me she'd lend me money if I need it. She's rich.” He gripped her hand and looked into her eyes.

“There's no point my trying to tell you what I'm thinking,” he said. “You must know. You're wonderful.”

She pulled her hand away, forcing back sudden tears. “Don't let the soup get cold,” she exclaimed, making an effort to keep her voice steady. A few spoonfuls restored her equilibrium. She improvised to divert any questions Stuart might have and almost began to believe herself. Mme. Muguette had come to regard her as a daughter. She wanted Odette to take care of her in her old age and would do anything to keep her here. As a final persuasive touch, she admitted that the old lady would have to be paid back but there would be no hurry about it.

Could he repay the money within a reasonable length of time? It was the only question that made Stuart hesitate but, as Odette pointed out, he could always sell the place later if worse came to worst. He had no intention of selling now or ever. He would make it pay. This reprieve was all he needed.

He was seized by a voracious appetite. He polished off the soup and the bread and the cheese, a robust Cantal, and drained the wine. They were soon in bed playing their favorite games. He slept more soundly than he had since Robbie had taken sick but was away at daybreak so as not to be observed by the neighborhood.

He had been reprieved and he didn't take it lightly; the crises of the past weeks added a down-to-earth note to his thoughts of the future. If he wasn't going to be knocked off his feet every time life dealt him a blow he must learn in the next few months what the local farmers had absorbed in a lifetime, work methodically and without sparing himself until he was sure the land could support him. No more romantic notions of a carefree Robinson Crusoe existence.

He was stimulated by the prospect. He felt as if he had already learned a lot. The struggle awaiting him was a clean one, between himself and the land and nature, not with people. That was what mattered. He had stumbled on one of the few corners left in the world where people could afford to be kind, where human warmth overbalanced human calculation, where competition was limited to a game or a girl, since there was nothing else to compete for.

He was glad that Robbie's convalescence would keep his family in Cannes for the next few weeks. By the time they came back the weather would have moderated and he would have things under control.

He spent many evenings with Odette. She produced the money within four days so that as a topic of discussion it quickly faded into the background. She was impressed by the magnitude of the sum she briefly had in her possession and she was affronted when he seemed to take it so for granted. Of course, he couldn't know what such an amount might mean in terms of humiliation.

She was very happy practically living with him but she soon sensed that nothing had really changed. Though always playful and loving, he still eluded her in his dedication to his land and preoccupation with thoughts of his family. She couldn't even count on his coming in the evening. Several times he didn't, always with a reasonable excuse the next day.

Her conviction that the money would guarantee a growth in their intimacy was so strong that she tried to ignore her disappointment. Still, in the back of her mind lingered a suspicion that she hadn't taken full advantage of the opportunity chance had provided. Perhaps if he had signed something …

As the almonds were bursting into bloom, casting a pale pink haze over the land, Helene brought Robbie home and Odette's evenings with Stuart ended. When she found herself once more eating lonely suppers in her bare room, his failure to make the most of his brief freedom became intolerable in retrospect. Did he think she'd picked the money up in the streets? No matter how much she loved him, she wasn't going to be made a fool of. There was always the chance that he might have trouble paying the money back when the time came …

Changes in the Coslings' life were imposed by Robbie's convalescence. There was no question for the time being of his doing any of the chores he had done earlier. Since he couldn't be left alone, it meant that Helene, too, ceased to help Stuart in important ways. They became the companions of his leisure. As the brief spring passed and summer moved in and Robbie was bronzed by the sun and regained his strength, this way of life somehow became firmly established.

Robbie was aware that he was being treated as if he had been changed in some way by his illness. He didn't think he had been particularly—in fact, he would have forgotten about it once he was up and about again except for his new status. He liked being pampered and petted by his mother. He liked having his whims indulged. He liked having his tenth birthday turned into a much greater occasion than his previous birthdays had ever been, like a delayed Christmas. Even his father took some time off to celebrate it; usually, he could think of nothing but the new vines he had planted or how well the tomatoes were doing. Robbie couldn't see anything special about things growing; the countryside was full of vineyards and the market full of tomatoes. Looking back, he realized that he hadn't really liked the things his father expected him to enjoy—fishing from the cold uncomfortable little boat, the long tiring tramps looking for a bird to shoot, struggling with the clumsy bucket in the well while his father tried to teach him the proper technique for bringing up water. He was acquiring skill with watercolors and loved to paint. His mother made schoolwork interesting, except for mathematics, which she had no more feel for than he did. They made a joke of it as they struggled dutifully through long division. They tended the animals who had finally settled down to do what they were supposed to do, multiply and provide eggs. They planted flowers around the house according to Robbie's design and were soon enjoying their fragrant blossoms. They played together on the beach.

Helene found the compensations of motherhood more than she had dared hope they would be. Robbie was a delight. He never made her feel insecure. She didn't have to wonder if he would leave her or get carried away by unexpected caprices. He freed her from the rack of passion. She had feared that living once more with Stuart would shake her determination to devote herself to her child, but Stuart's consuming efforts on behalf of the place reduced contact between them to a minimum. He was asleep almost before he stretched out in bed and at dawn he was up and out again.

Stuart remarked the change in her appearance. She was letting her hair grow back and she didn't bother now to arrange it modishly. She had stopped lacquering her nails and rarely used any makeup. The only additions to her wardrobe were a couple of printed cotton dresses of the sort worn by the local women. She lost the slightly flapperish look that had suited her so little and became timeless and more feminine. She consciously neglected herself and regarded it as an atonement for the self-absorption that she mystically linked with Robbie's nearly fatal illness.

The result was to make her more attractive to Stuart. She didn't need makeup and stylish clothes. Her fine features and coloring, her generous, finely modeled body made of her a civilized sort of earth goddess. To Stuart, it was a further indication of how completely she had accepted their new life. He had so organized his time before her return that he had had qualms about how she would be affected by his new routine. Would she get bored with the task he had set himself? Would she feel he was neglecting her?