Promises to Keep Read online

  ALSO BY PATRICIA SANDS

  The Bridge Club

  Anthologies

  Coffee Break Reads

  Book Club Picks

  Cooking with our Characters

  Titles in the Love in Provence Series

  The Promise of Provence

  Promises to Keep

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2014 Patricia Sands

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Lake Union Publishing, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Lake Union Publishing are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781503947337

  ISBN-10: 1503947335

  Cover design by Mumtaz Mustafa

  CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  A NOTE TO YOU, DEAR READERS

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  PROLOGUE

  Katherine dropped the small suitcase on the bed and burst into tears. Her heart was aching, but she had no choice. She had to leave this home, this country, and the man she loved. For how long was another question.

  After a moment, she wiped her eyes and began selecting what she needed to take with her, but still she wept softly as she folded and packed a few things. She did not need to take much because she was returning to her Toronto home and a closet full of winter clothes. She sat down on the bed for a moment, listening to the strains of smooth jazz drifting down the hallway and wondering why life had dealt this blow, just when things were going so well.

  There were two reasons she was leaving. The first she had known for a long time. She had to return to Toronto at some point in order to apply for permission for an extended stay—perhaps the rest of her lifetime—in France. She could apply only from Canada and would have to wait there for the long-stay visa to be issued. While she waited, she would take care of matters there, either selling or renting her house and storing or selling her furniture. Then, once the visa arrived, she would fly back here to Philippe, her love, her partner, and the source of her newfound confidence in making these life-changing decisions.

  But this was not the reason why she was leaving now. There was a second reason, and it had come out of nowhere and hit her hard.

  The lock clicked as she set the combination on her suitcase.

  Philippe came quietly into the room, slipping his arms around her from behind.

  “I don’t want this to happen,” he murmured, his breath whispering across her skin as he buried his face in her hair.

  1

  About two months earlier

  One look at Philippe, striding toward her through the terminal, soaked to the skin in his cycling clothes, was all that it took for Katherine to walk away from a scheduled flight back to Toronto. She had been about to pass through security at the international airport in Nice when she heard Philippe call her name. Her usual common sense and caution about unknowns vanished on hearing the voice of the man she loved. She turned around and never looked back.

  Outside the terminal, Bernadette, who had driven her to the airport, was already waiting to collect them, with Philippe’s bike strapped to the back of her taxi. Once they were seated inside, Philippe confessed that he had phoned Bernadette as she was chauffeuring Katherine to the airport.

  “I was on my bike, yelling into my cell phone for her to stall as much as she could. The roads were so wet I almost wiped out a few times. Zut! The only thing that mattered was getting there in time, ma belle,” he told her as they clung to each other in the back seat. Katherine felt blissful gathered in his strong arms, oblivious to the mud splattered all over his body.

  Soon after she turned the car onto boulevard René Cassin, Bernadette slammed on the brakes, and they lurched forward. “Your luggage! What about eet?” she shouted.

  “I completely forgot about it!” Katherine pulled away from Philippe’s embrace. “I’ve got to go back and tell them I’m not taking the flight. They’ll take the luggage off anyway when I don’t show up, but I need to tell them.”

  Bernadette turned the taxi around as soon as she could and drove back to the airport. Philippe took Katherine’s hand as he opened the car door, and they rushed back into the terminal.

  Shaking her head and grinning, Bernadette also got out of the taxi and lit a cigarette.

  A half hour later they were on their way to Antibes. Kat had straightened everything out and arranged for the luggage to be delivered to Philippe’s apartment the next day.

  A calmer atmosphere prevailed in the backseat, but Katherine’s heart was still racing from all the excitement as she and Philippe held hands and leaned into each other, exchanging tender kisses along the way.

  In the year since she turned fifty-five, Kat had journeyed from the nadir of what had once been a contented life to a place where she felt strong, independent, and able to embrace an entirely new existence. Anger, loss, and grief had held her hostage for months, but now love had released the shackles. She was convinced that life was hers for the taking, that she was not too old, that age was no barrier to change and to love.

  Bernadette dropped them off at Philippe’s apartment. Once inside the vintage elevator cage—which had just enough room for two people who needed no personal space—they reached for each other, and their lips and bodies locked in passion.

  After fumbling with the key to the front door, Philippe scooped Katherine into his arms. His dark eyes, intense and glistening, captured hers. Katherine lost herself in them, giving him her body and soul. The heavy door to his apartment slowly swung open.

  “They do this in all the American movies, n’est-ce pas?” he said as he carried her across the threshold, making her feel like a young girl.

  She laughed and was surprised at the deep, sexy tone her voice had somehow acquired. Philippe set her down tenderly, rolled her carry-on into the apartment, gently kicked the door shut, and drew her back into his embrace.

  Covering each other with kisses, they stumbled down the hall to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes behind them.

  “Welcome home, darling Kat. This is where you belong—chez nous,” he said, his lips softly grazing hers, his voice low and throaty.

  Waves of love rushed through Katherine.

  They toppled onto the bed in a frenzied tangle, letting their urgency take over.

  Philippe whispered, “Je t’aime, Katherine. Je t’aime.”

  “And I love you. Je t’aime,” she stuttered, between gasps.

  These words, which they previously had held back from saying, they now said over and over throughout a night filled with rapture.

  When she woke alone in the morning, Katherine found a single gardenia blossom on the pillow beside her. She knew Philippe had slipped back to see if she was still asleep between collecting the ch
eeses for his stand at the daily market and opening it at eight o’clock.

  She pictured him tiptoeing around the bed like a cat burglar and smiled. Where on earth had he found a gardenia on the last day of October?

  She rose, stretching and yawning, infused with a sense of calm about the impulsive decision she had made at the airport. She had never felt this confident during the years she had meekly allowed herself to be guided by her ex-husband, James. Now she knew that the image of protector James had projected had only been a cover for his selfish control of her life.

  It had taken intense and raw reflection with a counselor before she was able to face that reality, before she believed that she could change. That, and Philippe’s tender love and appreciation of her as a person.

  When she arrived in Antibes at the beginning of August, it had not taken long for her to fall in love with the enchanting medieval town that glowed in the warm Mediterranean sun. Falling in love with Philippe had been the surprise. A gift.

  She was briefly tempted to head out to her yoga class now, but decided she needed to take things slowly and consider the consequences of her actions.

  Once she was up and showered, reality hit her. Was she really doing this? Walking away from everything she’d ever known? Yes, she decided, I am.

  Two phone calls were in order. Both her cousin Andrea and her best friend, Molly, would be expecting her to call to say she had arrived back in Toronto.

  As usual, Andrea was calm and philosophical. “You’ve come a long way in a short time,” she said. “Don’t rush anything, Kat, and do make sure to listen to your heart as well as your head. Take a chance.”

  “Who knew that the simple home exchange you encouraged me to make would lead to this?” Kat said.

  “Who knew? But thank you. I will gladly take credit for it,” Andrea laughed. “It’s time for you to be happy, to be in love. I’m excited to see how this all plays out. You know Terrence and I liked Philippe immensely from the moment we met him. I never would have expected you to do this, Kat. It’s so beautifully out of character. I love it!”

  Kat admitted she would have a lot to think about once the fog of love lifted. “Like the job that’s been waiting for me. After I call the HR office today, I guess I will be officially unemployed for the first time ever. Eek!”

  “I wish you all the happiness in the world,” Andrea said, her voice cracking. “Take things one day at a time and the universe will unfold as it should—or something like that.”

  “I’ll keep you posted. Let’s keep doing our Monday-morning Skype calls. I love you!”

  “Me more,” Andrea said, as she had their entire lives.

  After hanging up, a half hour passed before Katherine realized she had been sitting the whole time at the kitchen table with her face cradled in her hands.

  The euphoria Kat had felt on the phone was fading. Thoughts were swirling through her mind too fast for her to concentrate on any one of them. She realized that her vacation was over and real life was kicking in. She had just exchanged everything familiar for a life in a country with a language and culture she had yet to learn. How had she reached this place? Routine had ruled her childhood, her education, her career, and, most of all, her marriage.

  She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself for comfort.

  James. Their twenty-second wedding anniversary. What the hell had made him think that was the right day to leave her?

  “It was surprisingly creative behavior, given his pathetic fucking personality,” Molly had said after the fact, when she and Kat had been talking about it. “But you know, in retrospect, the bastard couldn’t have done you a bigger fucking favor.”

  Kat laughed at the memory of Molly’s snarky, expletive-laced comment. The truth of the remark had jolted her at the time, but Molly had been right.

  As quickly as the laugh came, it went, and Kat’s face clouded at the memory of her mother’s death just a few months later. She had lived with her mother, Elisabeth, for a few months after James walked out. In that short time, mother and daughter had connected in a way that only the shared experience of pain and loss can produce.

  Kat had gained wisdom and strength from their long conversations as they cooked together and shared meals and countless cups of tea. That time together, the intimacy she felt with her frail mother, was another bonus to the end of her marriage.

  The realization that a mother’s love for her child rarely ceases had touched her deeply. Kat felt it whenever her mother took her hand or stroked her arm without thinking, as she had when Kat was young. The memory of that touch now would invariably bring tears to her eyes.

  Even though she had always been in close contact with her mother, it wasn’t until she moved in with Elisabeth that she really appreciated what aging and being widowed entails. Her mother had never been one to complain, and Kat had quickly realized how that made it easy for her to overlook how tough it is to be on your own in a body that can no longer do what you want. She learned how much a daily phone call meant to her mom and berated herself for the days she had let her busy life come first. Her mom had never said a word about the occasional day she’d missed. It was too late to change that now.

  Kat was about to pick up the phone to call Molly when she decided to see if she was online. The timing was right, and Molly was more fun to talk to on Skype than over the phone. She opened the app and called the number. Molly answered right away, and Kat broke the news that she was staying in France.

  “No fuckin’ way, Kat!” Molly hollered from Toronto, her startled face lighting up the screen. “You rock! I’m so happy for you—and for Philippe. I expected you to be calling me from here to tell me where to meet up for dinner tonight. I can’t believe you had the chutzpah to walk away from your flight.”

  Molly then went into a long gripe about how this all meant she might not see her best friend for some time.

  “I have a feeling it won’t be that long, Moll,” Kat said. “Bernadette made a few comments on the way back from the airport about visas and stuff. Philippe said he would make some calls this week and see exactly what’s needed. I may have to come home to apply to stay longer. Besides I’ve got to take care of my house.”

  “Well, you win the fu— . . . er . . . frickin’ Harlequin Romance prize this week in my books, girlfriend. Walking away from your life here to stay with the dude you love. I am so crazy proud of you.”

  “I have to tell you that I shocked myself. When Philippe showed up at the airport, I couldn’t resist. He simply swept me away! It was what I wanted to happen but, I wasn’t sure enough of myself to admit it until he was standing there, dripping wet.”

  “Ahhh, just a second. I’m enjoying that image.” Molly closed her eyes and grinned. “The one of that swoon-worthy body in wet cycling clothes.”

  Katherine grinned back. “I love being in love.”

  “Or whatever it’s called.”

  “Well, we actually said the words this time, and it was beautiful. Even though I told you that I didn’t care a fig about hearing Philippe say ‘I love you,’ I was overcome when he did.”

  “Just proves what I’ve said before—passion isn’t the private domain of the young and unwrinkled. Enjoy it.”

  Kat laughed. “I never would have believed it would be in my life now.”

  Molly’s voice softened. “You know I’m happy for you. Thrilled, in fact. Who knew what lay ahead after your asshole husband walked out? Who knew that after all that pain and drama a whole new world would open up for you? This has been such a lesson for me, Katski. Honestly.”

  “Enough about me, my friend,” Kat said, switching from elation to concern. “How are you doing? Is Father DeCarlo still stopping into the Blue Note to catch a set or two of yours on the weekends?”

  “Mm-hmm,” Molly said, but she quickly changed the subject. “So really, Katski, when do you think you might be bac
k here?”

  “Well, I’ll definitely have to come back before the one-year anniversary of leaving Toronto. So that would be July sometime.”

  “I miss you! I can’t imagine you living over there for fu— . . . er, for frickin’ ever, but it sounds like that just might happen.”

  “Molly, what’s going on? It sounds like you’re making a concerted effort to tidy up your language.”

  Molly hooted with laughter in her inimitable way, which always made everyone around her join in. Katherine admired her friend’s knack for joy.

  Then, in a very proper English accent, Molly said, “You are jolly right. I’ve been getting counseling, and that’s part of the program. No more dropping f-bombs all over the place. Imagine!”

  Kat laughed. “I think I might miss it. It’s so much a part of you.”

  “The counselor says my swearing is all tied in to anxiety. It’s almost like an addiction, if you can get your head around that idea.”

  “Well, the change is noticeable.”

  “It’s not so easy to stop.”

  Kat offered some words of encouragement and then added, “If I end up staying in France, you must promise to visit me here again next summer.”

  “Damn straight! I’m going to set up a special bank account tomorrow. I’d love to come back.”

  They chatted about Molly’s teaching and singing and her life in general, and Katherine was sure she detected a note of optimism—unusual for the Molly she knew. She hoped she was right and made a mental note to ask about it sometime soon. Now she was too wrapped up in her own new life.

  The conversation ended quickly after Kat heard Molly’s doorbell ring.

  “Whoops, that’s my next piano lesson arriving. Gotta go. Love you, and I’m seriously so excited for you.”

  “Me too, Moll. Talk soon.”

  2

  In the following days, Kat and Philippe began to slip into their own routines, but with the awareness that they were now building a life together.

  A colorful bouquet of fragrant lilies was delivered to the apartment with a thoughtful note from Philippe’s daughter, Adorée, expressing her pleasure at the turn of events and thanking Katherine for bringing happiness back into her father’s life. Katherine had met the twenty-two-year-old beauty at the grape-harvest weekend at Joy’s in September, where Philippe had made certain they spent time together.