20. Time Is Running Out

CHAPTER20

Time Is Running Out

Wyn

My husband sat on the bed, and I stood between his spread knees wearing a robe, makeup done, with my hair wet and slicked back with product already applied, waiting to be blown out, and I listened to him tell me about his eventful time at the breakfast table.

I did this making note not to let Remy loose on his own again in this fucking house.

He had his hands on my hips and his eyes on my stomach.

I had my hands on his shoulders and my gaze locked to his face.

“What I don’t get,” he said when he was finished with the rundown and finally lifted his face to me, “was why he didn’t tell me.”

“I’m not sure how you say to a little boy, ‘We’re leaving your mother because she hurts you,’” I replied. “It’s more like you’re consumed with the thought, ‘I have to get my child away from danger,’ and then get him away from that danger.”

“We have kids, Wyn, and at eight years old, they were all mature enough to understand something like, ‘if they hurt you again, no matter what, you tell me, and I’ll make it stop.’ He said he left it to the housekeepers to report. I’ve been thinking on it, and she must have figured that out. After we came back from that last time in France, she never did anything dramatic, except the concussion, and she drove me to the hospital herself after that. Unless it was just a tantrum that didn’t involve anything physical, it was no longer loud. It wasn’t bloody. There were no broken bones. She was hiding it. She knew, if he knew, she was done. She’d lose us both. And it was fucked-up love, but she loved me. That said, she worshipped him. I’m not sure she’d survive without him. And by that I mean, she’d make that so if she lost him.”

“Like, take her life?” I whispered.

He nodded.

I was still whispering when I said, “Remy.”

“Seriously, Wyn, what kind of deal do you make with your wife to stop her from abusing your child? What—?”

He stopped talking and we both stilled when we heard the words shouted from several rooms down the hall.

“You lied to me!”

Nothing and then more from Guillaume.

“That was not what you promised! We went together. Je n’étais pas là alors t’as juste décidée d’arrêter?”

And now Colette, in a shriek.

“Speak English when you’re shouting at me!”

“Bon sang! You’ve been married to a Frenchman for fifty-four years!”

“He said,” Remy translated quietly, “I wasn’t here, you just quit?”

“Quit what?” I asked a question he couldn’t know the answer to.

More from Guillaume.

“Finalement, fait-moi l’honneur d’apprendre ma langue!”

“Finally, do me the honor of learning my language,” Remy murmured.

“Speak English!” Colette shouted.

Guillaume acquiesced.

“You were supposed to stop! You were supposed to continue to attend sessions! And for both, you did not!”

“Things were fine!”

The next was bellowed so loud, it was a wonder the walls didn’t shake.

“THEY WERE NOT!”

After that, a door slammed, heavy footfalls could be heard in the hall then on the stairs, and Remy and I were left staring at each other.

I broke our silence with a silly quip.

“I’m thinking his drive didn’t help.”

Remy smiled.

Then he fell forward and buried his face in my stomach.

I smoothed his hair back.

I gave him a second, then I guessed, “Sessions? Do you think he meant counseling?”

He took his face out of my stomach and looked up at me. “Probably.”

“That was the deal,” I deduced. “It wasn’t just the housekeepers keeping an eye on things. He’d gone with her, but when he wasn’t around, she was supposed to keep going, and she didn’t.”

Remy picked it up. “And as far as he knew, nothing else happened, so he thought she was better. Then after a few years, I put a stop to it myself.”

I turned my head and looked at the wall, beyond which, at the end of the hall, was the master suite.

“She’d act up when he was with his women.”

Remy saying that made me look down at him again.

“I won’t defend cheating, but that’s his issue, honey. It’s no excuse for what she did,” I noted gently.

“I need to find him, make sure he’s okay,” he said. “Definitely not getting back in his car.”

I nodded.

He stood and I didn’t move because he was pressed against me.

I tipped my head back, and quickly, because I knew he’d be keen to get away, I rolled up on my toes.

I meant to kiss him, but he kissed me.

Then he left the room to see to his dad.

* * *

“Plot twist,” Noel said in my ear.

I was out on the front veranda sitting on a thick black-and-white striped cushion that didn’t do much to make comfortable the gorgeous but practically unusable wrought iron chair.

If this was my house, I’d have wicker out front. It would be pretty, fitting and comfortable (I’d also have ferns, they were softer and more welcoming).

But the wrought iron was definitely more aesthetic.

Which was apropos with Colette Gastineau.

It looked beautiful, proper.

But it was unyielding, and in various locations, it dug into your skin.

“Yes,” I agreed to Noel.

Obviously, I’d told him everything.

“What’s happening now?” he asked.

“Now, Remy spoke with his dad. The boys and him are off somewhere with Guillaume. I’ve no idea what they’re doing, but they’re doing it keeping him from her and waiting for my call. Manon is getting ready. When she is, they’re swinging by to pick us up and we’re all going into town to do some shopping and get some lunch.”

“And Colette?”

“We’re under strict instructions from Guillaume that Colette needs to ‘rest’ today. Apparently, they’ve planned some sort of special dinner tonight, which was why Guillaume requested we pack something non-casual to wear.”

Noel chuckled, saying through it, “Like you’d ever go anywhere without at least one non-casual outfit to wear.”

He was so right about that.

He lost his humor and went on, “Be careful, Wyn. The wicked witch of the south is on her back foot, and it’s dangerous to corner a witch.”

“This is why Remy is also not here. It was my idea they go somewhere. I’m here, covering Manon on the home front.”

“God, I hate it for Remy that this trip to visit his dying mother is akin to going to war.”

It didn’t need to be said I hated it too.

Since I did, I took us out of that discussion and into a much better one about wedding flowers (due to the season the event was occurring, but also because they were my favorites, I’d decided all white roses with some evergreens) when I heard a noise at the front door.

I looked that way, expecting it to be Manon.

But it was Colette.

“I need to go,” I broke into what Noel was saying about the addition of eucalyptus.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

I just managed to say, “Colette,” before she was out the door.

“Right, keep me briefed. Love your face, love your family, you’ll get through this. Bye.”

And then Noel was gone.

Colette approached.

She was in red slacks. A black turtleneck. A silk scarf in reds, creams and yellows, which if I was not mistaken, was Prada knotted at the base of her throat and draped her shoulders. Black and cream Chanel ballerina flats. The sheath of her hair shimmered with health. And today, full makeup.

That said, seeing her standing and without the froth of scarf and long duster, it was much more obvious she’d lost weight. If she hadn’t donned her usual mask and armor, she would appear frail.

“Good morning, Wyn,” she greeted as she glided to the tiny table where I sat and lowered herself to the cushion of the chair across from me.

She matched the color palette.

“Good morning, Colette,” I replied.

“The house is rather quiet,” she noted with the iron will of a woman who knew all in it heard her shrieking at her husband an hour before but was intent to ignore it. “Where has everyone gone?”

“The men are out doing man things. Manon is getting ready,” I answered.

“At ten in the morning?”

“It’s eight our time.”

“Ah.” She looked to the street even as she noted, “I’m pleased to see you’re wearing your wedding rings even if you and my son are no longer married.”

I wasn’t about to mention our upcoming re-nuptials.

If Remy wanted them to know, Remy would tell them.

Though I did think it safe to say, “Remy asked me to put them back on.”

“Well, it’s lovely you cared to see to his feelings on that.”

Don’t bite, Wyn.

But I bit.

“Once we were back together, I would have done it myself. He just got there first in asking.”

She turned to me. “Of course, you love him so very deeply.”

Okay.

I tried.

But I wasn’t going to do this with her. Be her target when there was no one else at whom to aim her venom.

“Colette—”

“You need to talk to my son, and he needs to talk to his father.”

Oh hell no.

I wasn’t going to battle for her either.

I opened my mouth again.

But she said, “Remy’s misdeeds are not on his father’s shoulders.”

I closed my mouth because I had no idea what she meant by that.

“Guillaume has been living three years in agony,” she went on. “I’ll not die, knowing my husband shoulders a burden that isn’t his.”

It was truth I spoke when I said, “I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

Her gaze pierced mine. “I’m sorry, I’m quite sure you do.”

Okay.

I wasn’t going to play a guessing game with this woman either.

“Perhaps we can agree not to get involved in each other’s marriages,” I suggested.

“I can’t agree to that, considering my son left his beloved wife because he’s mostly his father’s son,” she retorted.

Although she was right about that (in some ways), I felt my brows rise, indicating my bemusement.

“Men need to do these kinds of things,” she continued. “I’m happy you came to realize that.”

“Do…what kind of things?”

“You don’t want me to say it.”

“Actually, since I don’t know what you’re going to say, I do.”

Colette arched a cunning brow. “He moved that woman in with him, didn’t he?”

According to Remy, they hadn’t spoken in three years.

How did she know that?

“How do you know about that?” I asked through stiff lips.

“Remy was a cerebral boy, cultured. He preferred drawing or playing piano to catting about with his friends. But when he did make a friend, he made that friend for life. And some of his friends have parents who are our friends.”

Wonderful.

This meant Remy told Beau or Jason about Myrna, and one of those two idiots told their folks.

“We were divorced,” I reminded her.

“And she was not his before? Or another one, perhaps?”

Oh my God.

“Remy wasn’t cheating on me.”

“That’s what I say to myself, dear.”

Right.

I didn’t live her life, as much as she wanted me to.

I was also done.

I stood and looked down at her. “My husband wasn’t cheating on me, Colette. And our marriage is none of your business. Now, truly, I am sorry about the state of things with you. So please, take this as honest and heartfelt when I say, don’t make this visit ugly. Make it about something else. And really, you need to make it about something else. You have five people who’ve come to visit you who’ll have nothing but memories soon. I’d suggest giving them good ones.”

With that, I started to move in front of her to get to the door.

I could hang with Manon in her room as she finished getting ready, the better to nag her to hurry so we could all get away from that house and this woman.

“He adores you, you know,” Colette noted as I passed.

I didn’t break stride as I said, “I know.”

“I’m not talking about Remy. I’m talking about Guillaume.”

That stopped me and I turned back. “I know that too.”

“So of course, he blames himself. It eats at him like acid.”

“He blames himself for what?”

“For Remy leaving you for another woman.” She fluttered a hand with perfectly peaked nails painted an unblemished buff. “The apple doesn’t fall and all of that.”

“Guillaume thinks…?” I couldn’t finish that.

Because I now knew what Guillaume thought.

He thought Remy had done what Guillaume had always done and that’s why we ended.

And because he loved his son, and me, and our children, our family, it had tortured him that was the example he’d set.

When it wasn’t that.

It was Colette.

And she loved her husband.

So in her way, she’d come out to speak to me so I would go about ending that torture.

“It wasn’t about another woman, Colette,” I said softly.

“All right, dear,” she murmured disbelievingly.

Because this was Remy’s mother, and she should know, firmly, I repeated, “It wasn’t about another woman. He suffered for you with that. So much, he’d never do that to me. We’d been divorced two years before he had another woman.”

The skin beside her eye ticked.

That was all I’d give her on that.

But for her and Guillaume, I said, “I’ll talk with Remy and encourage him to sit down with his dad.”

“I love him, you realize, with my whole heart.” She took a delicate breath and clarified, “Remy.”

I slid my head to one side like I was relieving a muscle on the other, righted it and began to bid her adieu again.

“I know Remy has shared…” She couldn’t say the words. “But I do love him.”

“Colette, let’s not talk about this.”

“You think you know.”

“I do know.”

She turned on her cushion to fully face me. “Guillaume’s family was very close. His parents thought he could do nothing wrong. He was the apple of their eye. The brightest star in their sky. I was very happy he had what I didn’t. Your parents were lovely. I watched. I saw. They cherished you. Do you know the meaning of the word cherish?”

“Please, I don’t—”

“Until I had Guillaume, I didn’t have that. And even when I had Guillaume, I truly didn’t have that. How could I give something I didn’t have myself?”

“I’m acutely aware of your health, and I feel right now—”

“It was all I knew,” she hissed.

“No,” I retorted. “I’m looking at you now, and I know you knew better.”

She opened her mouth.

But this time, I got there before her.

“We’re done talking, Colette. If you have amends to make, they aren’t to me. They’re to my husband.”

“My grandchildren—”

Ah yes.

Last night was not lost on her either.

“And to them as well,” I carried on. “As I said before, but you didn’t catch it, so I’ll make myself clearer, you now have two and a half days to take care of important business. Honest to God, I hope you take advantage of them so maybe you’ll get more than two and a half days. Because as hideous as it might be for you, no matter how you look at it, time is running out.”

And with that, I left her looking perfect on her iron chair and dashed into the house and up to my daughter.