The Night That Started It All (19 page)

She guessed that those who hadn’t been present the first
time she visited had been apprised of her dive into the twilight zone.

Strolling in with Luc, she tried to look reassuringly normal and joyous. Certainly, after the visit to the doctor, some joy must have still been hanging about her because it kept trilling through her spirit. Nothing too terrible could touch her with Luc’s enthusiasm for their shared secret wrapped around her heart like a shield.

‘
Alors
, Shari, how are you today?’ people said after the exchange of kissing. ‘Are you well,
ma chérie
? Are you eating your food?’

Laraine herself, dressed in a lovely linen suit, was very attentive to Shari’s comfort. Shari wondered if it was an accident the decanter of mineral water had been positioned near her place setting. How was a woman able to be so charming, so intelligent, so pleasant and discreet all at the same time, and still be so formidable?

At least Shari felt more confident about her clothes. She was wearing her floral dress, heels, and had wound her hair into a chignon to show off some aquamarine earrings Luc had surprised her with in honour of their first consultation.

She’d drawn a caterpillar on her collarbone, but felt pretty sure it would only be visible if she leaned forward, or had to twist about.

Laraine’s cast of characters had expanded. There was a new couple, Raoul and Lucette. Lucette had a baby in a high chair she was feeding while attempting to eat her own food. Every so often Raoul interrupted his conversation to amuse the baby or assist in the production of shovelling food into his little rosebud mouth. Whenever Raoul looked on them a softness touched his eyes.

He loves him, Shari thought, trying not to stare. Really loves him. And he loves her.

Tante Marise was late to arrive, and after she’d kissed and been kissed by everyone she exclaimed to Luc, ‘
Again
, Luc,
and so soon. We are honoured,
hein
?’ Then she turned to Shari, her blue eyes so genuinely kind Shari felt warmed. ‘I am so happy you are here, Shari. When do you return to Australia?’

Shari felt Luc’s quick glance. ‘Not yet. Not for a while.’

‘
Oh, là
, but where are you staying? Not in an ‘otel?’

‘Shari is staying with me,’ Luc said, taking up a ladle and turning to Shari. ‘
Tagine, chérie
?’

All eyes sparkled and flitted between Luc and Shari. After a polite nodded ‘Ah’ from Tante Marise, conversations about half a dozen random subjects broke out while the family digested the information with their
tagine à l’orange
.

Chickpeas and lentils in a mildly aromatic sauce.

Delicious.

Shari felt a pleased glow. She could have kissed the man right there. A public acknowledgement of their relationship, however discreet, was a breakthrough.

Laraine seemed to take the news in her stride. She merely nodded, as if her son was confirming something she’d suspected all along. Her glance at Shari continued warm, curious, a little amused, and Shari felt it often.

She supposed mothers worried about who was birthing their sons’ babies. By some feat of witchcraft, Laraine had already guessed she was in the family way. How soon would be tactful to fill the matriarch in officially? Not understanding how things worked between mother and son made the territory chancy.

Until Luc was ready to declare his paternity to the world, Shari couldn’t feel any real security. And how likely was he to announce it loud and clear unless he knew for certain he was the father?

By the time they were through the salad course, Rochefort and were embarking on the
mousse aux framboises
, Rémy’s name hadn’t been mentioned once. The family were making an effort.

Maybe a day would come when she would feel relaxed with them all and stop worrying about every little thing. But after
she and Luc had said their farewells, kissed and been kissed, the burning question had crystallised in her mind.

When would she return home? Would she
ever
?

‘It wasn’t quite so scary this time,’ she said to Luc afterwards.

‘It was good you remained conscious,’ he agreed, smiling.

‘And the earrings helped.’

‘Tu étais belle
. Soon they will love you.’

Her heart panged. Would they?

Would he?

She twisted her hands in her lap. ‘It feels strange not to know for certain where I’ll be in a year’s time. Or if I’ll be seeing Neil at Christmas.’

He looked sharply at her. ‘You’ll be
here
at Christmas. With me. On the very brink of giving birth, if not in the hospital.’

‘
If
we can arrange the visa.’

‘Don’t worry about that,
chérie
. You worry far too much. I’m meeting with someone tomorrow, and we will discuss it.’

‘Someone in the government?’

His eyes veiled and he waggled his hand. ‘A friend.’ After a long silence he observed casually, ‘You and Neil must be—very close.’

‘Well, naturally. He practically brought me up, you know.’

He was silent so long, she turned to examine him. He was far away, a curious twist to his mouth.

‘Now who’s looking worried,’ she teased. ‘Lighten up. I’m the one giving birth.’

Eager to fit in, she enrolled in intensive French lessons. Five mornings a week she caught the métro to Saint-Placide where she brushed up on her vocabulary and grammar. It didn’t seem to help when she was on the train eavesdropping on people’s conversations, but at least she was learning things about French manners and customs that hadn’t been included at high school.

Luc was pleased. And she began to notice that, more and
more, he reverted to his own language when they were conversing.

Gradually, words and expressions must have been seeping into her understanding, because often she caught his meaning. Not that she understood
him
any the better, except in the matter of passion, where understanding flowed between them like a tumultuous river.

The first ultrasound scan was an unforgettable experience. The indistinct and everchanging images of a tiny burgeoning person, the brave little rhythm of another heart beating within her had a deeply emotional effect on them both. During the event Luc seemed to lose all power of speech. Shari naturally cried, but glancing at Luc at one point she caught an awed shimmer in his eyes too, though he quickly concealed them from her.

The news was good. The baby was developing well, and growing at the normal rate. The doctor offered to tell them the gender, but seeing a doubt in Luc’s shining eyes, Shari said softly, ‘I think we’d like to be surprised.’

Before they left, the doctor paused. ‘Everything is looking very strong. Your next ultrasound will be in July.’ She produced a schedule with all Shari’s future consultations listed. The amniocentesis test hadn’t been included, to Shari’s relief.

Maybe she could just quietly forget about it. Pretend the subject had never come up. But her relief was shortlived when the doctor added, ‘I see no need for the amnio test you inquired about. Your risk level is very low. Unless you have some concerns you wish to settle?’

Shari tensed. ‘No, no. I just …’ She glanced at Luc, who’d frowned. She could feel a blush creep up her neck and into her hair. Admitting to the doctor that the father of her child had ever had the slightest question about his paternity, rightly or wrongly, was harder than she’d even imagined. ‘Can we make the decision later?’

Luc scoured Shari’s troubled face. He said gently, ‘We don’t need to have the test, you know.’

The doctor looked from one to the other, her intelligent glance veiled.

‘We’ll discuss it again,’ Shari told her, cheeks blazing. ‘I’ll let you know.’

‘
Bien sûr
,’ the doctor said easily. ‘I will write it in and we can always eliminate it if we decide to.’

They would decide to, Luc thought, pierced by Shari’s blush. Somehow he would persuade her out of it. He thought guiltily back to the day he’d snapped at her in the café. He’d planted that seed of insecurity in her himself with his own careless tongue. Added to the Rémy effect …

Was it any wonder she believed he didn’t trust her?

It was a delicate balancing act, keeping a woman happy and secure without making her feel as pinned as a butterfly. How did guys achieve it? With a cold anxious burr it occurred to him that if he wasn’t careful she’d be on the next plane to Australia.

And then what?

A flash of his life before she came into it chilled his soul like a sudden arctic breeze. He wouldn’t let her go. Not without a fight.

‘I wish I didn’t have to return to work,’ he said thickly out in the street, pausing to shower her face in kisses. ‘I want to be with you. I could have you right here against this lamppost.’

‘Flattering, but would it be wise,
monsieur
? I’d rather not be arrested.’

He laughed, but, surrendering to her protest, escorted her to the car with his arm around her waist, brimming with positive energy that communicated itself to Shari.

‘Now we know we are safe we can begin to tell our friends,
n’est-ce pas
?’

Shari nodded excitedly. ‘Good. I can’t wait to tell Neil. He and Em’ll be over the
moon
. But …’ She shot him a glance. ‘I think it might be best for your mother to hear it from us first.’

His dark eyes shimmered with some mysterious knowledge. ‘Ah,
oui
. Maman will like you to tell her. And we must start some serious planning. We need to research the schools. And you’ve never said … Do we want a nanny? And I’m wondering if we need to hire a dietician to prepare your meals from now on. What do you think?’

She stared incredulously at him.

‘No?’ He burst into an amused laugh. ‘But I
am
thinking of hiring a car with a driver for you. You shouldn’t be travelling on the métro. It’s too much of a risk. Anything could happen.’

‘Now just hold on there. I
like
catching the …’

Luc stiffened momentarily and the words died on Shari’s lips.

A taxi had drawn in behind their car and a woman got out to help another alight. When the second one straightened up Shari saw she was heavily pregnant, moving with the changed gait brought about by the redistribution of body weight. She was in jeans and heels, her enormous bump lovingly outlined by a tightly fitted shirred top. Her hair had been cut in a short, sleek, very chic bob, and she wore minimal jewellery, apart from some bangles and hoops in her ears.

Noticing Luc, she teetered backwards on her heels for an instant, and Luc lunged forward to steady her. He barely had time to touch her elbow before her companion stepped in and took a firm steadying grip of her other arm.

With a sharp pang Shari recognised that face. Who else at her advanced stage of pregnancy could manage to be so elegant? And she was, Shari acknowledged. Truly elegant. With a glowing, luminous beauty.

Luc smiled, though there was a hard glint in his narrowed eyes.

‘Ah. Manon. What a magnificent surprise,’ he said in French.

The beauty inclined her head. ‘Luc.’

‘Imagine meeting you here, of all places.’ How could such
suave and graceful words be so punishing? ‘And looking so—robust. Not bored with America, I trust?’

Manon glanced quickly at her friend, then pushed back her sunglasses. Her gorgeous amber eyes were defiant. ‘I could never be bored with America. But where else does one go at this beautiful time of life?’

Her glance flicked sideways to Shari for a bare instant, then back to him.

There was a screechingly silent abyss when no one said anything, then the other woman tugged at Manon and hustled her into the clinic.

On the trip home, the atmosphere in the Merc had a certain explosive fragility. It crept in upon Shari that her situation was really very precarious. It was terrifying to think, but there was a horrible possibility about the man she loved she needed to take into account.

If he was still fixated on Manon, how long would he be likely to stay with
her
? Until the birth? Until the babe was a week old? Three months? And if he left her, would he be content to leave his baby behind?

A familiar claw caught her entrails in a death grip. She knew nothing of French law in the matter of child custody. But how likely was it that a mother—who wasn’t even a citizen—would take precedence over the father who was?

In one swoop the excitement of the fantastic visit to the clinic was wiped.

‘She’s very beautiful,’ she said, fluttering her lashes to draw his attention to the fact that hers were at least as long as Manon’s. ‘More beautiful than her pictures.’ He made no answer, but she persevered. ‘Did you know she was pregnant?’

His dark eyes were cool and veiled. ‘I may have heard.’

‘It’s—quite a coincidence.’

‘How is it a coincidence?’

‘Well … you and she were together. Now
she’
s pregnant, and here you and I are …’

‘Life goes on. And …’ He turned his head, and said softly, ‘
You
are beautiful.’

Really? If he hadn’t been so angry with Manon, she might have let herself believe him. ‘Was that her sister with her—some relative?’

‘I can’t say. I barely looked to see.’ He glanced at her, his dark eyes softening. ‘
Chérie
, don’t allow this accident of timing to bother you.’

She smiled. ‘It’s not. Why would it? I wish you had introduced me, though.’

‘Ah. I’m sorry.’

‘You could have said, “Allow me to present my pregnant friend, Shari.”’

He flushed. ‘Yes, I should have, but it was a shock, you know, coming upon her so—unexpectedly.’

‘Mmm. I sensed that.’ She compressed her lips.

‘This is the first time I’ve seen her in seventeen, eighteen months. The last time I saw her we were … she and I were engaged in mortal combat.’

She could just imagine it. The drama and the passion. Especially the passion. ‘Who was the victor?’

‘Oh, Manon,
bien sûr
. A man has no chance against a woman with claws extended.’

Her heart pained. How he must have loved the beautiful woman, to feel so bitter. She wished she’d never asked.