Going Off Piste

Chapter Eleven

Frankie sat at her dining table, her coffee going cold, and smoothed out the dog-eared letter that had been read and re-read countless times over the course of the last few months. It had arrived a few days after her return from Paris. She had definitely improved, only taking the letter from its hiding place between the pages of her diary once in the last week but Sébastien was here to spend the weekend with Betty and that always reopened the old wounds. She skipped, as usual, to the final paragraph, rubbing her thumb over the small, round mark where a tear had caused the ink to bleed.

"...I can't tell you how sorry I am for my mother's unforgiveable treatment of you on that last day," it read. "I do believe that one day she will fully understand how seriously she misjudged you. Until then, I'll have no contact with her..."

He had been as good as his word. According to Jules, Reuben had returned to les Monts a day earlier than expected, having stayed on in Paris only long enough to say hello to his father and empty his wardrobe. He had not returned since, remaining on at la Vieille Grange after the end of the ski season, gradually returning to Bruno and Jules the money they had paid him for his work as a ski host in the form of board and lodging.

"...Please don't doubt my feelings for you, Frankie," the letter continued, "I know you believe that the age difference between us is too much of an obstacle but I hope you will credit me with the maturity to know my own heart. You wouldn't allow me to use the word 'love' when I spoke to you at the airport but you can't stop me writing it in a letter..."

Frankie put the letter down, sighing deeply and sipping at the lukewarm coffee before picking it up again.

"...I believe that in time you'll come to understand, as I do, that we have been fortunate enough to find something that has the potential to make us both very happy. So I'll give you the time you need. I won't contact you again but will wait for you, my love. I will wait until my dignity tells me it's time to cut my losses and move on but hope to hear from you before I reach that point...Yours Reuben."

She folded the letter carefully and slipped it back into its envelope then picked up her phone, scrolling through the photos she had saved there until she came to the picture taken on a sunny, cold day in January. Reuben was smiling widely, his arm around her shoulders, pulling her tight into his side. She had one arm across his body and was laughing at something he'd whispered just as the lady with the poodle took the photo. At that distance, they looked young and carefree; a perfect match. How much she wished it were the case. Frankie closed the image and put her phone into her handbag. On her wrist, the silver charm bracelet jingled, the light catching the two charms. She'd worn it constantly, as she'd promised she would, even though, in the first few weeks at least, it had caused her great pain to have it there as a permanent reminder of what she had lost.

Through the open sash window that filled most of the end wall of the dining area, Frankie heard the metallic creak of the front gate and Dave the postman's tuneless whistle as he crunched his way up the gravel path to the front door. There was a 'thunk' of papers landing on the tiled hall floor followed by, "I'll get it!" from Betty. She was awake, then. Frankie slipped the envelope back into her diary and relished the sound of Betty's feet thundering down the stairs. There had been a good period of time, in the early spring, when she'd feared she might never hear that sound again.

"Morning," said Sébastien, shuffling barefoot into the kitchen.

Frankie stood and hugged him.

"It's so good to see you, again," she said, kissing him on each cheek. He was tanned, his hair bleached blond at the tips, and dressed in a pair of faded denims and an old tee shirt.

"I brought you some coffee," he said, placing several packs of ground, French coffee on the table. "It looks like I did the right thing?"

He picked up her half empty cup and sniffed it with a look of extreme distaste on his face. Frankie laughed.