David and I arrived safely in Vancouver early on Saturday evening, and for a while we stood at the window of his loft, looking out over the lights of the Expo site and the city beyond. It all felt impossibly distant from the weeks we had just lived through, so distant that I could scarcely believe we were truly there. Whether from sheer weariness after forty hours of travelling or from the deeper release of finally being beyond the fear and violence, we deferred unpacking until morning and went straight to bed.
The following morning, we woke to a fax from Grattien. Philippe Grotkopf and Eva Malpas had been among those apprehended when the bulk wine company in Marseille was raided. I read the page once, then again more slowly, as though my mind needed time to trust what my eyes were seeing. There was no joy in the news, no triumph, only a quiet easing, as if some knot drawn tight inside me had at last begun to loosen.
Three days later, we took a break from negotiating the sale of David's company and were married in a simple ceremony in Stanley Park. The breeze off English Bay was cool and fresh, and the North Shore mountains stood in such quiet assurance that, for the first time in a very long while, I felt no need to brace myself against anything. It was enough to stand beside him in the clear spring light, to hear the words, to speak my own, and to know that after so much fear, pain and confusion, we no longer faced the future alone.
For the first time since I was a girl, I felt that my life belonged to me again.
YOU ARE READING
Spilt Wine
Mistério / SuspenseDavid's buying trip in France is interrupted by the disappearance of a friend and millions of francs worth of wine. When he stays behind to assist and comfort his friend's wife, Catherine, their lives are threatened. As the danger intensifies, they...
