The Promise of Provence (Love in Provence Book 1) (3 page)

How is it that less than forty-eight hours ago I thought I loved my husband and he loved me, and now I feel . . . hatred? Is that what it is? I’m not sure it’s hate . . . I hate what’s happening . . . I can’t seem to think past that. How can I suddenly hate him? How could he do this?

She knew it was too much to comprehend at this point.

Just deal with it
.

Pulling into the driveway of the small, Tudor-accented house in which she grew up, she sat for a few minutes to gather her thoughts. Katherine’s mother in all honesty had not been very fond of James. Still, this would not be easy.

2

Elisabeth Varga was sitting in her most comfortable chair by the bay window in the living room, a place where she had spent many hours watching life pass by. When she saw her daughter’s car turn into the driveway, she slowly made her way to the front door.

At eighty-five she grudgingly admitted her body was letting her down. Macular degeneration was stealing her eyesight, and her doctor had made it clear that her once-strong heart might not have much left to give her. A widow for just over eight years, a part of her was more than ready to join her beloved Joey. After all they had shared in life, his absence caused an almost constant ache.

The one balm that relieved the hurt was her darling daughter, Katerina. A happy, safe home had been their wish for their daughter, and as the years had passed without a sibling joining her, they focused every effort on being good parents to their only child. From the moment they arrived in Canada, their philosophy revolved simply around one belief: every day is a gift. This they knew only too well.

It was in this refuge Katherine knew she would find solace today. How much good it would do, she wasn’t certain.

The door opened and she fell straight into the waiting arms she knew would be there. Mother and daughter hugged longer than usual, and Elisabeth sensed immediately all was not well. The strong, taut frame pressed against her, but something was very broken.

“Are you still feeling ill?”

Shaking her head and leading her mother to the sofa, Katherine felt the words she had tested on the drive over slip away as she struggled to keep her composure. Within seconds she was weeping as her mother held her tightly.

“Na, na,”
Elisabeth whispered as she patted Katherine’s back and rocked her gently.

Feeling strength flow from her mother’s embrace, Katherine eventually pulled her shoulders back, wiped her face, blew her nose, and began to recount the unbelievable.

Elisabeth’s hands trembled as Katherine held them in hers. Her skin was so thin now, like delicate, fragile porcelain to be treasured and protected.

Her mother’s blue eyes, almost a pale turquoise, radiated concern. Katherine looked at her face, knowing every line held a memory of her long life, some of the deeper ones hiding pain too intense to acknowledge. She had been through so much herself and gone on to make such a fine life for her family. Love had motivated her mother in absolutely every action.

This news wasn’t fair to her.

At length Elisabeth pulled a fine cotton handkerchief from the sleeve of her sweater to wipe the tears covering her cheeks, paled by sadness. She patted back her hair, which was pulled into a bun. Once a dark walnut brown, now still thick and the whitest white, this was a nervous habit her daughter knew well for as long as she could remember.

Elisabeth’s disbelief erased the comforting words she had been offering. She sat in silence for some time, looking intensely at Kat or down at her lap, listening to a story she didn’t want to hear.

Katherine talked nonstop, somehow finding the strength to control her voice when it caught. She had moved through a startling range of emotions. Right now she was angry. Totally pissed off.

“I just keep thinking of all the years we were together. Really from the autumn of 1981 until now he has been the only man in my life.”

Elisabeth nodded, remembering those early days clearly. “You weren’t crazy about James at first,
nem
? It seems to me you took your time warming up to him.”

“Think back, it’s not like I had been a big-time dater. I didn’t have a lot of boyfriends in high school or during my undergrad. I was a bookworm, remember? I liked studying more than dating!”

The conversation took them through the period of Katherine’s dating James to their moving in together in 1982.

“Your dad and I were not happy about that.”

“I know. I felt badly about disappointing you, but we thought we were very cool. Marriage was old-fashioned and unnecessary.”

“What was it young people like you were called then?” asked Elisabeth. “Poppies? Puppies? . . .”

Katherine had to laugh. “Yuppies—young urban professionals.”

But her eyes welled up immediately as she went on to talk about them choosing to get married so they could have a family. They weren’t
that
cool, they decided.

“Oh,
Anyu
, I’ve always wondered why it never happened. Why I never became pregnant when no specialist could give us a reason.”

Elisabeth put her arms around her daughter and pulled her close. “Just let the tears come. You need to do that. I know it was such a disappointment.”

“And now James is rubbing my face in it,” Kat sobbed, her voice muffled as she buried her face in her mother’s shoulder.

Elisabeth hugged her more tightly. She had no words for that pain. It would simply all have to work its way out in time.

Two pots of tea later, they sat at the kitchen table alternately looking into each other’s eyes and passing a comment or watching the downpour run out of the eaves trough into the rain barrel by the porch. Elisabeth would take her daughter’s hand from time to time and simply hold it during the silences.

“Stay for dinner, Katica. Keep your old mama company.”

Hesitating for a few seconds, Katherine said, “That’s a good idea. Honestly I don’t feel like going home . . . yet . . .”

“I took some chicken out of the freezer just in case, and if you didn’t stay I would simply have cooked it up and saved it for you.”

While Katherine chopped onions, adding them to the paprika-laced butter melting in the pot, her mother mixed up the batter for her delicious
spaetzle
. The tiniest hint of garlic was her secret. She sieved the flour and whisked the eggs with her deft light touch before combining the ingredients. The little dumplings would be dropped into boiling water just before the meal was ready to be served.

Chicken broth was added to the sautéing onions, and then chicken breasts and thighs to simmer for just over a half hour. Familiar mouthwatering aromas soon filled the house, and before serving came the final touch of flour-thickened sour cream with a sprinkle of cayenne. Her mother’s chicken paprikash, with its delicately seasoned creamy sauce, was the ultimate comfort food.

From a very early age, Katherine had sensed how meaningful it was to her mother to cook and bake old familiar Hungarian recipes. Many strong memories revolved around food and meals. Traditions passed down through generations. Although her mother never discussed the war years, she often told her daughter stories of her happy childhood and loving family before it all ended. It was as if a blade dropped, cutting the threads of a beautiful tapestry, leaving jagged and dangling edges that were beyond repair.

Katherine had often gently prodded her parents to write their stories so they would not be forgotten. “What happened will never be forgotten, but to give it life through words is impossible for us,” her mother would respond with sadness.

The last thing she ever wanted was to bring more unhappiness into her mother’s life.

Sitting at the table with her mother now and savoring every mouthful of the familiar meal, Katherine realized how ravenous she was. They attempted to concentrate on eating with a few quiet exchanges about nothing in particular. She knew the shock had been huge for her mother—
uh, as it was for me
, she thought with a pang. Another reason to want to hate James.

They had shared tears and consolation as best they could. Elisabeth would have her private moments to deal with her confusion and sadness over this loss, this hurt of her daughter’s. Now she would give everything she could, as she always had, to provide love and reassurance about the future. Mothers who had this gift never lost it, no matter what the age, unless a health issue stole it away.

“
Na
, will you stay tonight? Snuggled down in your old bed?”

The thought of not returning to the townhouse alone was suddenly appealing. It was raining harder than ever now, a good night to stay put.

“
Anyu
, there’s nowhere else I would rather be right now.”

Mother and daughter clung to each other again for a very long while, rocking gently.

Lying in her old bed a short while later, Katherine couldn’t stop thinking about her relationship with James. She felt they had truly been in love.
But then again
, she thought,
what is love?
They started off with attraction and interest, added lust, which turned to passion, built respect, and—she had assumed—actually liked each other. They enjoyed each other’s company, wanted to be together, planned a life together. Why did it change for him and not her? When did it change? It was difficult to move past all the questions.

The morning dawned bright and clear.
A perfect day for a long bike ride
, Katherine thought with an overwhelming bitterness. She wasn’t certain she would ever get on a bicycle again. At the same time a strong urge overtook her, something foreign to her nature but absolutely right under the circumstances.

Walking into the kitchen, she inhaled the pleasant breakfast bouquet in the air.
How does toast smell
so
good in the morning?
As she devoured a piece of buttered toast and a bowl of warm oatmeal served by her mother, the cinnamon scent revived more childhood memories.
Note to self
, she thought,
I must get back to oatmeal instead of yogurt and berries every day.

“
Anyu
, I’m so sorry I had to unload all this on you. I know you and Papa didn’t feel James was the right man for me. I guess I should have listened to you in the beginning.”

Her mom wiped her hands on her apron and shook her head. Her voice filled with sympathy.

“My
angyalom
, we never know what life will throw at us. I’m so sorry for you to have your heart broken, but I know we will all survive it. You especially. One day at a time.”

“I know you’re right. Thank you for being you.” Putting every ounce of strength and resolve into her voice, Kat wanted to give her mom reason to believe she was dealing with the situation.

As she drove home, the open windows created a breezy cross draft—anything to help her feel less numb. After making such an effort to reassure her mother, she felt empty, drained of energy and emotion.

Normally she loved to cycle on mornings like this, when the overnight rain had cleansed the air and soaked the earth so deeply that you could almost feel the energy coming from everything green. The sky was impossibly blue, inviting her to be outdoors. Today that invitation lay unopened in Katherine’s mind.

How is it, when my heart is so broken, the world can still be such a beautiful place? It isn’t right. It isn’t appropriate or fair. Everyone and everything should be suffering like I am.

Resentment set in. Trying not to think of James—particularly his fathering a child—was an impossible task. Feeling an ache deep inside her, she lightly rubbed her hand across her abdomen.

A surprisingly nasty seed had begun germinating in her mind shortly after she had awakened. As she drew closer to home, the plan became clearer and stronger. By the time she pulled into her driveway, the intensity of it was almost overpowering.

Activating the garage door opener, she parked her car in the driveway and walked into the almost empty space. Along the back wall was a painstakingly organized worktable with all the tools James used to tune their bikes.

With determined movements Katherine lifted James’s most valued possession down off its rack. She marveled for a moment at the lightness and beauty of the elite bike he had treasured with good reason.

Pulling on her leather-palmed gardening gloves, she picked up a Phillips screwdriver and began her task. First she dismantled the electronic components. Wielding a hammer, she smashed some parts on the worktable to ensure the system would be of no use to anyone ever again. She wanted every blow to injure him as he had her. Next the wire cutters were put to work as she cut all the spokes and cables and slashed the tires. With each clip of the cutters, she felt a sharp pain in her heart, but did not stop. A hacksaw would complete her task, cutting through the tire rims and carbon fiber frame again and again. There was no pleasure in this for her, but there was a clear sense of purpose. She had to hurt him back, and with each push and pull of the saw, she hoped she was doing just that.

Stuffing the pieces into a large plastic garbage container, she set the sorry mess in the driveway just outside the garage door.

Going into the house to get a black Sharpie, she printed “RE” in front of the “VENGE” and carefully laid that section of the frame on top of the pile.

Next on her agenda were the two phone calls she absolutely had to return. Molly would be busy giving piano lessons at this time on a Saturday afternoon, so she could delay that call. But Andrea must be told. She was expecting Katherine and James to be at her place in St. Jacobs tomorrow. The conversation was brief.

“No, no, no! Kat, this is horrible. I can’t believe it.”

“Believe it,” Katherine replied, surprised at her composure. “It’s a fact.”

“I’m coming over. I’ll be there within two hours after I get things organized here, and that’s all there is to it.”

“Really, Andrea, I’m okay. I’m fine. I’m dealing with it.”

“No way,” Andrea insisted. “And
I’m
not fine. I’m not dealing with it. I’ve got to see you. I’ll stay overnight and help in whatever way I can . . .
or you can help me . . . good Lord, this is a nightmare!”

Knowing there was nothing she would like better than having Andrea with her, Katherine gave in.

She had never been one for getting involved with girlfriends. Molly and she had known each other since public school, living on the same street and somehow just always being around each other. Katherine always felt she was Molly’s rock, there to talk during the many ups and downs of Molly’s disorganized and unhappy life. Molly had lived on the wild side during high school, while Katherine had immersed herself in her studies.