Promises to Keep (9 page)

9

The market was closed on Mondays through the winter, but Philippe had a busy day planned. The investigators from Nice had e-mailed to say they would be at the fire site to meet with him early in the morning. He expected to hear that they had finished examining the storage unit, and so he had arranged for him and Gilles, with other friends helping, to install new shelving and refrigeration in the unit that afternoon. Then they could move their stock back into it.

Kat planned a full day on the Cap to work in the garden there. Massive flowerbeds, once overgrown and untamed, were beginning to show the results of the care and hard labor she and Philippe had put into trimming everything back and rooting out the weeds. They were beginning to slowly replace missing shrubs and vines, using old photos and paintings of the property that had been saved, some carefully and some accidentally.

It still astonished her that this stunning property—with its panoramic views across the sea to the old town of Antibes and over the Baie des Anges to Nice and the hills beyond—had been abandoned for decades. Left to fall into ruin, hidden behind thick hedges and now-crumbling walls, it was the victim of a long-simmering family feud. Philippe told her that after his grandfather’s death, two branches of his family had fought over the archaic inheritance laws and legal details that had not been properly addressed. By the time the issues were settled and Philippe was named the legal heir, his wife, Geneviève, had become terminally ill.

The villa, close to derelict when Philippe first took Katherine to see it, was now the focus of their dream of building a future here. That vision was evolving into a detailed restoration plan almost complete on paper and ready to commence as soon as possible. In the meantime, they continued to attack the overgrown gardens.

Philippe’s days began early, so late nights for him were rare. But still, they had stayed awake on several nights exchanging and refining their ideas on how to turn the villa into the small inn they would open one day. It was a fantasy they were determined to make happen.

In some ways, the evolution of this land and the storied villa reflected the growth of the bond between the two lovers. Their pledge to the project and to each other grew stronger as the days passed. Their friendship had been a few months. Their courtship, a few weeks. Their love felt like it would last forever.

If only Philippe would tell her his secrets. Despite Molly and Andrea’s advice, Kat was still feeling hurt that Philippe was keeping something important from her.

On her way to the Cap property that morning, Kat paused to shoot a close-up photo of a cluster of unusual mushrooms growing by the roadside. A rich, caramel color with delicate rust-colored gills and silky beige stems, the mushrooms were the largest she had ever seen.

She had once jokingly told Philippe she thought she could put together a photo book only about mushrooms in France. The vendor’s stall at the market in Nice, which constantly displayed exotic-looking varieties, was a favorite spot for her to shoot. It was there that she witnessed customers ask for a mushroom to be cut open for them to inspect before buying. She had never seen that happen before.

Philippe told her how he and other friends would often go into the countryside during the short mushroom season.

“The peak time is from mid-August to mid-September,” he said. “We pick only on public property, and most of us guard our secret places.
C’est vrai!
We don’t want anyone to know.”

He explained how they would set up a grill to cook the freshly picked bounty right where they had found it. “Can’t get any fresher than that. We will go next year.”

He had also told her of the number of fatal accidents that occured because many varieties were poisonous. “You can take your basket of mushrooms into almost any pharmacy and they will be able to tell you whether yours are edible. Most French mushroom lovers are well educated about them, but accidents do happen.”

“Mushrooms are definitely an art here,” she mentioned to Andrea one day on Skype. “I basically thought that if you’ve tasted one mushroom, you’ve tasted them all. I thought they were all like the portobello and those little button ones. I mean, even I knew those. But they’re just the tip of the iceberg.”

Andrea had laughed. She ran an organic farm, so she knew a lot about mushrooms. “When Terrence and I visit you the next time, we’ll spend a lot more time at the markets. I want to take a look at those fungi.”

Now, as Kat stepped closer to the mushrooms in the ditch, adjusting her camera lens, she became aware of a faint snuffling coming from behind the tall hedge. When she heard it again, she carefully picked her way through the ditch to peer between the bushes.

She jumped back in surprise, swallowing a squeal, as a pair of deep, dark eyes rimmed by long, thick lashes peered back. A mottled coat of varied shades of gray mixed with white came into view, followed by the creature’s square-jawed head, which sported two enormous ears separated by a thick black Mohawk-like mane. The animal emitted a loud, nasal bray.

An old donkey, only slightly disheveled, was staring at her through the bushes and twitching its ears at the flies buzzing around.

She reached her hand across the wire fence behind the hedge and held it there for the dappled critter to sniff. After a moment, a silky, moist nose shyly and hesitantly nuzzled her fingers. After pulling back a few times and then quickly returning, it allowed her to lightly rub its velvety muzzle. There was an inquisitive look in its eyes that seemed to invite more communication.

Kat had been holding her breath, but she slowly realized the air held only a hint of an offensive smell. This was a well-cared-for animal.

“
Salut
, little fellow.
Petit ami.
” She snapped a few shots, zooming in on the coarse texture of its coat, as the donkey slowly backed away and calmly began grazing.

“Parlez-vous anglais ou français?”
she asked with a grin.

She could see no sign of anyone as she leaned through the hedge to look at the property. Beyond the paddock where the donkey stood, she could see a garden that appeared moderately tended and, beyond it, a somewhat neglected-looking cottage that seemed to be inhabited. Its shutters were open and a few items of clothing hung on a line.

Philippe was surprised when she told him about it that evening and said, “
Un petit âne?
I thought that property was abandoned like mine.”

“The donkey seems well fed and surprisingly clean, and it’s not very smelly, either. So someone obviously is there caring for it. But the place feels kind of mysterious. I may try to find out more about it one of these days.”

He gave her a nudge and grinned. “There you go, Minou, starting another adventure and discovering things around you that most of us simply pass by.”

She had to admit this seemed to be part of her new persona. It made her wonder how she could ever have been happy, so confined in her marriage for all those years. Why had she never considered making a change? Why had she simply turned a blind eye to James’s controlling ways and carried on?
Better the devil you know.
How often had she said that to herself?

At the time, she thought she was content, that their marriage was how things were supposed to be, even as she felt her spirit weakened by his bullying. It had seemed easier to stay than to go. Now she knew just how wrong she had been all those years. Philippe had shown her how it felt to be truly loved. But if he loved her, how could he keep this secret from her? This “WTF” situation, as Molly called it, was serious. Kat felt her impatience flare again—to get it out in the open, get it resolved, and get back to where they were before he ever found that note tucked under the wiper.

10

Katherine was startled when Philippe walked in from work the next afternoon, clearly agitated and angry. This was the second time in a few weeks she had witnessed this uncharacteristic behavior, the first being when the SUV had tried to force them off the road on the way to Entrevaux.

“The investigators from Nice were back again this morning with their portable lab. They wanted to confirm some findings they reached over the weekend. They arrived at a different conclusion than the local police. Apparently the blast was deliberately set and had nothing to do with the electrical wiring in the storage area. They found traces of plastic explosives that could only have been left by a handmade device.”

Kat was shocked. “But who would do this on purpose?” she asked. “And why would they, for heaven’s sake? Competitors? Surely not!”

Philippe shook his head. “
Malheureusement
, I have a very good idea,” he said.

Then the light went on for Katherine. “
Mon Dieu!
Tell me this isn’t connected to your problem, please.”

“I have to think it is,” he said. “But it could turn out to be a good thing, because some incriminating evidence was left. It’s being checked out now in Nice and may be sent to Paris. I had to tell them about the note and the threats.”

Katherine was perplexed. She stared at him. “Threats? Plural?”

He nodded sheepishly and looked away.

Kat waited till he looked back. Her gaze was unwavering. “I’ve been good about trying to put this out of my mind. In fact, I had almost convinced myself that the car chase was a case of mistaken identity. I really had. But this is something else again. You have to tell me what’s going on.”

“Soon. I promise.”

There was a long silence between them. There was nothing more either of them could say. Then Philippe’s phone rang, and he left the room.

Kat put on some warm biking clothes and headed out on her own. She needed time to work through this—again. She wasn’t certain she could. Keeping secrets held hurtful memories for her, and she thought she had made that clear to him, more than once.

“I’m going for a ride. Back in an hour or so,” she called as she opened the front door.

She heard him say good-bye on the phone and then he called back, “
Attends-moi!
Wait a few minutes and I’ll go with you.”

“To be honest, I want to be alone.”

She took one of her favorite routes across the Cap and through a few backstreets until suddenly she was riding through the quiet forest. For the first while she let the rhythm of her movement calm her and focused only on that. Then she pulled her bike up against a stone wall and climbed up a short slope to a small clearing that gave her a clear view down to the sea.

This was the vista she loved most and had seen from so many vantage points on the rides they had taken. She felt it belonged just to her. It was part of why she was so in love with the Côte d’Azur. At this moment she was searching for something from it—peace, strength, guidance? Something.

For the first time since that fateful night at the airport, she was feeling unsure of herself. Questions that had been nagging her for days raised themselves again, and she knew she had to answer them. She closed her eyes while she thought them through.

Was she where she truly belonged? She thought she was.

Could she completely change her life like this? She thought she could.

Was six months enough time to know everything she needed to about Philippe? Apparently not.

Should this worry her? This was the stumbling block. She had once thought she knew everything about James and had been blindsided after twenty-two years.

Now Philippe was keeping something from her. What? Why? It frightened her, and it hurt her that he would not tell her what it was.

Should she confront him? No. Their relationship ruled out confrontation. He had asked her to give him time, so maybe she should. Molly and Andrea thought so. It wasn’t like he was denying there was something. He just needed time. She still needed time.

Opening her eyes now, she gave herself over completely to the beauty of the land and sea spread out before her, and all that it represented to her. She loved this view. She loved this country. She loved Philippe.

Then she got back on her bike.

No. No more time.

She needed the wait to be over.

11

Dusk was falling when Kat got back to the apartment.

Philippe was quickly at the door to put his arms around her.

“I was getting worried. I tried your cell, but you must have forgotten it, and that’s not like you.”

“No, I had it with me. I just didn’t feel like answering it,” she told him as she hung up her jacket and turned to face him.

Alarmed by her answer, Philippe moved toward her once more but stopped when he saw her expression.

Kat was anchored to where she stood, her face tight with emotion. She clenched her hands. She didn’t want to, but she felt herself losing control.

Philippe’s face froze. “What is it?”

“I can’t pretend any longer . . .” She paused before a torrent of words poured out. “I’m almost paralyzed with fear that something terrible is going to happen between us. You must tell me, immediately, what this secret is of yours. Something is going on, and I can’t wait any longer.”

Philippe reached for her hand and led her to the couch in the salon. He sat facing her, his face solemn, and closed his eyes for a moment before he spoke.

“You’re right. I can’t keep this from you any more. I thought I could, but it is a bigger problem than I first imagined.”

Katherine’s heart started to pound.

“It goes back to when I first met Geneviève, or Viv, as she preferred. We were young and wild and . . .” He paused, swallowing hard, his eyes downcast. Then he raised his head and looked out through the dark window. “She was an addict, a product of a very rough background. Her mother lived with a Russian drug dealer. He was not Viv’s father, but he was around a lot. He was very controlling. He never took drugs himself, and when he found out Viv was hooked, he threw her out.”

Kat sat quietly, still holding Philippe’s hand. She felt awkward and unsure how to comfort him.

“They lived in the north, in Brittany, and Viv ran away to Cannes. I met her at a party, and at first we were just friends in a large group of crazy young people living life as you do at that age. But soon I realized she had a problem. Another friend, Maurice—sadly, he is no longer alive—but Maurice and I eventually got her into rehab, and we were her support when she was discharged. After a year, she and I became lovers and were soon married. She had no contact with her mother. Viv was a warm, loving woman, but she harbored great bitterness toward her mother. She felt she had been abandoned for the Russian.”

Kat nodded, her eyes sympathetic.

“She went to school, a business school, and studied very hard to become an accountant. Imagine! From one extreme to another. And she was very good at what she did.” His voice cracked with emotion, and he shook his head.

“Two years later Adorée was born, and life was fine until Viv became sick with cancer, an aggressive strain of leukemia, when Adorée was fifteen.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“That’s when everything fell apart. Her mother, Idelle, suddenly contacted us. She had always known where Viv was, but she had wisely stayed out of our lives. Her sister was Denise’s mother. Denise is a cousin who lives in Lyon, and she was passing on our news, although at the time we had no idea.”

Kat’s mouth was dry. Her mind was filled with confusion, but she listened patiently.

“Idelle had never stopped loving Viv, but she was under Dimitri’s spell until she heard about her illness. That trumped everything. Now Idelle researched every available treatment for this type of cancer and wanted to take Viv to a special clinic in Germany. Viv resisted her urging for a year and went through a chemo program. It was brutal, but she did it with such grace. She wanted to be brave for Adorée, who was everything to her.”

He paused again. Kat could feel his anguish and drew him into her arms. He held her close and buried his face in her shoulder. “You don’t have to continue now if you don’t want to,” she whispered.

His reply was muffled. “Yes. I do. I need to tell you the whole story now that I have started.”

“Let me get us some water then.”

Philippe drew back. “
Non
,” he said, “there’s an open bottle of cabernet on the counter. Let’s have that.”

He stood and stretched, running his hands through his hair, as she left the room.

When she returned, he was at the window, looking down to the sea. They stood together for a while, sipping the wine. Kat lightly rubbed his back as he continued.

“Three months later the doctors told us there was nothing more they could do. The cancer had returned with a vengeance. They said it would only be a matter of months before she passed. Idelle was on our doorstep within days, and you can imagine the mix of emotions that filled the air. Viv asked me to leave them alone for a while, and I did. I didn’t want to, but I let them talk alone.”

He began pacing the room. Kat sat back down on the couch.

“I am going to skip a lot of details and get to the—as you say—the line at the bottom.”

Kat let that go.

“Viv was desperate to stay alive, and Idelle convinced her she could make that happen.
Honnêtement
, I believed that all Idelle wanted was to save her daughter. I still do.”

He took a long sip of wine and nodded slowly, his lips a grim line.

“She insisted that she had never stopped loving Viv and had always regretted that she hadn’t defended her from Dimitri so long ago. She said she felt it was best to stay out of our lives because she too had become addicted—to methamphetamines—but Dimitri accepted it. That drug had become his specialty, and she was his guinea pig. She knew Viv was safer away from them, as his whole business became busier and more dangerous.” Philippe’s voice was shaking with emotion.

“I should have known better, but we were all so desperate. You can’t imagine how your mind works when the person you love is about to die. It’s not like the terrible suddenness of a car accident or a heart attack. You have to look death in the face every day, and the feeling of helplessness is something I cannot begin to describe. No matter how much you hope and pray for a miracle, you can’t get away from the reality. It pokes you and prods you. It’s like sitting on a time bomb. Tick, tick, tick . . .” His voice trailed off.

Kat’s eyes filled with tears, and she waited quietly for him to speak again.

“I admire people who have a strong faith. It gives them such grace to accept death. But that wasn’t us. Viv went to Germany for a month with Idelle. The treatment seemed to help, but the side effects were extremely painful. They returned to Antibes for a month and then went back to Germany for another six weeks. Viv’s behavior was a bit odd while they were here, but I put it down to her treatment.”

He drained the wine from his glass.

Wiping tears from her face, Kat left to get the rest of the bottle. Philippe followed her into the kitchen and continued the story.

“What you must know is that Adorée never knew about her mother’s past involvement with drugs, and she thought her grandparents had passed away when she was a baby. So when Idelle appeared on the scene, we simply said she was a friend of Tante Céleste in Lyon. Viv did not show great affection for Idelle anyway, so it seemed believable.” He motioned to Kat to sit at the kitchen table with him.

“Three weeks into the treatment in Germany, I went to visit. I arrived much sooner than expected, as I was able to get on an earlier flight. Viv was startled to see me when the clinic receptionist called her to the waiting area, but she was upbeat and happy, which surprised me. There were other people around, and we simply
bised
before we went up to her small suite. The clinic was beautiful—very modern and well appointed in that clean, Germanic style.”

Kat wondered where he was going with the story, as he spoke on about the furnishings, artwork, and the size of his wife’s accommodation, until it occurred to her he was stalling. She said nothing. A minute or two later, he stopped talking and drained his glass again. Then he inhaled deeply and resumed the story, his voice shaking with anger.

“When we got to her room, I took her in my arms and we embraced again and again. Then we kissed. Her lips were dry and tasted bitter and I pulled back when my tongue started to tingle sharply. She turned away for a moment and then looked back at me with a frightening determination.” He spoke rapidly now, his voice still low.

“She said she was taking cocaine. That it was not interfering with the treatment and was the only thing that made her feel better. She thought that, as she was dying, the drugs were not an issue. Then she shocked me even more by saying that she was going to keep taking it when she came home. She promised to hide it, and that Adorée would never know.”

He began pacing again, his fists clenched. “I will never forget the pain in her voice. The desperation . . .” He squeezed his eyes shut as he struggled to control his emotions.

“What is the answer to that?” he said, his voice rising with anger and anguish. “
Dis-moi!
Someone you love is dying, and the only thing that helps her feel human is an illegal drug. What the hell do you do? Deprive her of a warped sense of peace in her final days?” He sat down and wept silently into his hands, his shoulders shaking. Before Kat could go to him, he wiped his eyes, stood, and started pacing again.

“The moral conflict might have been intolerable, but at that moment I didn’t care. I just wanted her to live—to feel alive. I would have died so she could live. Anything . . .”

Kat reached for a tissue to wipe her eyes. Philippe dropped into his chair, as if all the anger had suddenly escaped him. They sat in silence for several minutes before he wiped his face with his hands. “I’m sorry, Minou. I didn’t mean to unload all of this on you. I have kept it buried for years.”

She moved behind him and gently massaged his shoulders. “Perhaps it’s time it all came out and you begin to let go of it. I’m here for you.”

Philippe reached back and clasped her hands, tenderly squeezing them.

“It was Idelle who left that note under the wiper, the day we went to Entrevaux. It’s brought all of this to the surface for me. These memories have been tormenting me, but you—being the woman you are and offering me the love that you do—have let me unlock them.”

Kat, her hands still on his shoulders, leaned down to kiss his cheek. She felt his back straighten and become strong again. He cleared his voice.

“I mean, what she did for Viv is not normal. Who does something like that? But for someone like Idelle, it was an obvious solution. She was giving her daughter an escape from pain and worry. But it didn’t stop there.”

He stood again and paced as he spoke, after a very long sigh.

“What I haven’t mentioned was the cost of the cocaine. At first Idelle provided it for nothing, but as time went by, she demanded payment, blaming Dimitri. This was the purest form of the drug and expensive beyond words, and as Viv’s pain increased, she needed more of it. The debt became unmanageable. It never occurred to me that this was part of Dimitri’s plan.”

Kat’s head was spinning. This was like nothing she could have imagined.

“At some point Viv mentioned to Idelle that at long last the legal issues over the property on the Cap had been settled in our favor. I did not find this out until after Viv died—and she lived for another ten months. I knew it was the drugs that allowed her to be present for Adorée—and to have fun with her, often. It was torture for me, but she continued to live in her own little bubble. Tante Idelle visited regularly with the supply. I felt like a prisoner myself, trapped. I wanted to protect Adorée while trying to say good-bye to Viv and help her die with dignity.”

“I can’t imagine how hard it was for you,” Kat murmured.

“After Viv died, Idelle came to me with a deal. She would forgive the debt and promised that Adorée would never know of her mother’s drug history, if I would agree to allow Dimitri access to a hidden cove at the foot of our property. When I refused and told her I would pay the debt somehow, it became a blackmail threat. Do it or Adorée and the public will know about Viv’s drug use—past and present. They would say I was supplying them to Viv and others. These are nasty people, I promise you.”

“Obviously,” Kat agreed.

“I was distraught, not thinking properly. I just wanted that woman out of our lives.” Philippe let out a long, low sigh. “I wanted to forget the previous two years, and yet at the same time I needed to let go of my wife and remember the good things about her and about our life together. I had to deal with the grief and the anger that comes with a normal loss, let alone the complications involved morally and emotionally by her addiction. I thought I was going to go crazy.”

Going back to the window, he stared out into the darkness that had fallen. “I thought I would never go back to the property again. It was a dream that just would not happen. I would leave it to Adorée to inherit, by which time these criminals hopefully would be long gone. So eventually I agreed.”

He stopped in the middle of the room, his shoulders hunched and his arms hanging at his sides, and looked at Kat. “That’s the story . . . in all of its ugliness.”

Then he slumped into a chair, holding his head in his hands.

They sat for a while before she reached across and took his hand. Their eyes met.

“I don’t know what to say, except I am so sorry—for all of you. This is not how life should be—or death . . .”

Philippe slowly lifted his head and straightened up.

“Well, Idelle is back. That’s what the note was about.”

“But what trouble can she cause now?”

“She knows we are fixing up the property. Whatever they use the cove for—and if I am honest, I know it is to bring in drugs—they think they are going to lose their access. And they are right. I have more than paid my debt. They have used it for seven years, and I have closed my eyes. It has tormented me, but I will do anything to protect Adorée from the truth. She idolized her mother.”

“So you can’t tell this to the police investigating the fire?”

“I have to be careful what law enforcement I involve. These are immoral, insensitive criminals, who would just as soon shoot us as not. I’m afraid of what they might do if they find out I have contacted the police.
En réalité
, we could all be at risk.”