Opposites Attack: A Novel with Recipes Provencal (24 page)

A rush of heat circled her neck and shot into her face. Her heart felt like it was going to pole vault out of her chest. It couldn’t be Jean-Luc. She’d conjured up a ghost from this grave!

A huge head appeared with black devil eyes and long, thick, yellowish, pointy tusks jutting from its mouth. It regarded Alyce as though she were its next meal. Oh God, what it could do with those tusks.

She screamed as loud as she could. Only problem, it was in her head. Nothing came out of her mouth.

The next thing she knew, she was up a small, shaky tree, trying to get the gun out of the bag. She succeeded, dropping the bag in the process.

He was right below. Baring his teeth. Making an awful noise that was somewhere between a snort, a bark, and a pig’s oinky shriek.

She didn’t want to kill him.

The tree began to bend. And bend.

Something rustled in the thick brush behind her. More snorting. There were two! They darted off into the brush. More squeals and snorts. Were they mating or fighting?

Right then, getting mauled to pieces didn’t seem a whole lot worse than the pain of trying to keep from peeing. She struggled to get her pants down using one hand. As relief swept over her, panic was right behind. What if her pee attracted the boars?

The moment she finished, KERRRRRRACK!

The branch gave out.

So did her knees when she hit the ground. She willed herself to stand, pull up her dirty sweatpants over her dirtier ass, and grab the gun that had fallen out of her hand.

GRRRUUUNNKK! One was running toward her.

She flipped the lock off.

Aimed.

POW!

She’d forgotten how loud a gun was.

The boar squealed, wobbled, and limped into the brush. The other ran off.

The one she’d shot was still alive, shaking and shrieking. Its back leg was bleeding. Without thinking, she shot it again. Right in the head.

She heard in the distance, “ALLY! ALLY! WHERE ARE YOU!”

She was gasping for air and barely got out “Over here!”

When Nelson found her, he was thunderstruck. “What the hell?!”

She proudly blew on the pistol. “Guess we’re having a boar daube tonight.”

Disgusted, he said, “You’re kidding.”

“Hell, no! Boar meat is delicious, I’m told. There’s no way I’m not cooking this sucker. He almost killed me! There’s a wheelbarrow in the garage. Let’s take him to Eduard, the butcher.”

She gathered up the suede bag and walked with Nelson, higher than high from the adrenaline coursing through her. She didn’t notice Jean-Luc’s notebook tossed into the brush.

For now.

Eduard was not as pleased to see her boar as she had anticipated. Clasping his hands to his face and spewing a few “
merdes
,” he dashed to his front door, quickly lowered its shade, and locked the old brass doorknob, double-checking it.

“
Mon Dieu
, mademoiselle, you cannot kill a boar outside hunting season and without a permit!”

Her face flushed. Nelson’s turned ashen.

“Could she get arrested? Fined?”

“It was in self-defense, Eduard! Self-defense! There were two coming right at me!”

“Oh!” He threw his arms in the air and casually re-opened his store. “That is another story.”

Very excitedly, in a rush she could barely understand, he told her all the dishes she could make with its various parts.

“How about a daube?” she asked, then turned to Nelson. “Let’s have a big feast with students from the school.”

He slipped his arms around her waist. “Sure, honey. It’ll be good practice for all the parties we’ll soon be throwing.”

Eduard was beaming. “You are an enchanting couple!”

As he went about cutting the shoulder into cubes like stew meat, he said, “Invite them in two or three days. It is not the usual, but marinate the meat in
white
wine, since it is summer, overnight. A viognier would be ideal. No stock! Only wine. Add onion, a little orange peel, bouquet garni…I will write it down for you. Just remember, marinate day one, cook day two. It is even better day three.” He put his fingers to his lips and kissed them. “The perfect marriage of the flavors.”

Alyce thanked him profusely. Nelson insisted he take some.

“Maybe a little for myself. I cannot sell it at this time of year.”

Alyce and Nelson were in awe as he masterfully attacked his work while whistling.

“It’s like watching an artist,” Nelson said. “It’s not so bad anymore.” Then he joked as he snapped more photos for the Alyce Slays A Wild Boar album, “Think I should tell Mother to use one of these pictures on the wedding invitation?”

He kissed her on the lips. The butcher smiled from ear to ear.

“I think I’m in heaven,” she said.

“Hog heaven,” added Nelson.

She laughed too hard.

“Tell me how you did this, Al-
ees.
You are very lucky you were not hurt
. Sangliers
are dangerous when angry.”

She delighted him with her story (leaving out the part about peeing in the tree.)

As they were leaving, Eduard insisted they take a cut-up chicken. “Not everyone likes boar.”

Once home, she called Liliane’s house, but there was no answer. She had email addresses for her and the students she wanted to invite and put the word out that way.

Alyce and Nelson spent another quiet evening together: Nelson on his computer doing vineyard research while Alyce made a wonderful meal she called
réchauffé
.

“It’s French for heated leftovers,” she said.

“The French can make anything sound elegant.”

The cicadas hummed and all was good. Nelson tickled Alyce when he mimicked Eduard. “We are such ze enchanting cup-
el!
”

When it was time to clear the table, Nelson said, “It already feels like home here.”

They were soon in a loving embrace. While slowly stroking his back, she said, “You’re going to buy it?”

He hesitated. “Let me see how I feel when I get back to New York.”

Her reply was a long kiss. While it grew in intensity, she concentrated on one wish:
The put-an-ocean-between-them trick will work in this case, as well.

Avignon

Liliane, her two sons, Raymond, and his wife Odalis dolefully watched Jean-Luc curled into a fetal position in the guest bed at Raymond’s home. His nephews, each holding one of their mother’s hands, stared at him as if he were a grotesque animal caged at a zoo.

Raymond looked the worst. He was at that age where friends and relatives were vanishing from the face of the earth at an ever-increasing rate. Odalis stood behind them, hand under her chin, contemplating how to handle this situation.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Jean-Luc said from his bed. “Why didn’t he die?”

Liliane replied, “No, I am thinking, why did he live? There must be more for you to do on this earth.”

“Yes, Jean-Luc,” said Stéphane. “Much more.” Benoit nodded and said in his small voice, “Marry Al-
ees.
I want her to be my aunt.”

Jean-Luc’s eyebrows formed perfect arches.

“I cannot do that, Benoit. She is spoken for.”

Stéphane said, “We met him. We like you better.”

It warmed his heart that he had hardly been the perfect uncle and they still thought that. “I am afraid there is nothing I can do about it.”

“But there is something you
can
take on,” offered Liliane.

“The
Université
almost withdrew their offer,” Raymond said. “I had to do quite a tap dance to convince them you just needed a little more time to think it over. I never mentioned your incident.”

His sister and nephews moved closer. She said, “There are many applicants and those from within lobbying for the position.”

“Everyone agrees you are brilliant.” Raymond eased his frame onto the edge of his bed. “But can you teach? Are you reliable? Are you sensitive enough?”

“Yes, you are,” said Stéphane. Even Benoit nodded in agreement.

Liliane said, “I love you, Jean-Luc, but I am having another child and cannot take care of your life anymore.” With a rougher edge, she added, “I also run a school filled with foreigners in need of constant attention, in case you forgot.”

“I do not need anyone to take care of me!”

Odalis politely extracted herself from this argument with a soft, “Excuse me.”

He was so tired. “Why did that car have to drive by and save me?”

“You are being your usual dramatic self,” Liliane said. “You would not have died.”

He had been diagnosed with stress cardiomyopathy, a reaction to extreme emotional upheaval that pumps large doses of hormones and other chemicals into the bloodstream. They can be temporarily toxic to the heart and mimic a heart attack but cause no permanent damage. He would be fully recovered in two weeks. A complete overhaul of his lifestyle was ordered that included drinking much less, not smoking at all, easing into exercising regularly, and his favorite: reducing stress. The doctor told Jean-Luc to lower it as though it were a dial he could turn up or down.

Had the boys not been standing there he would have told them he was now obsessed with morbid thoughts of how he would die. Would it be while he was doing something ordinary, like tapping the shell of a soft-boiled egg he was about to eat, or in the white heat of an argument? Every man dreams of dying after making love to a beautiful woman, but even if he were that lucky it would be a contemptible cliché. The worst would be during his sleep. He wanted to know death was descending upon him, observe its every nuance. Nor did he want a tawdry scene with loved ones gathered around his bedside.

Liliane intruded with, “You can move into a nice apartment at the
Université
for visiting professors. If the Mansfields don’t buy your property it can be auctioned off. Or wait for a buyer. But the sooner you have real money in the bank the better.”

“Have you heard anything from them?”

“Not yet, but Al-
ees
and Nelson rarely leave the premises. They’re behaving like smitten newlyweds.”

His plan was working. If only his heart didn’t wish otherwise. He eyed Benoit. Why did he have to make that comment about marrying her? Children are so intuitive.

“I must go now,” Liliane said as she picked up her purse. “We have a two hour drive back to Marlaison.”

Raymond added in his eternally optimistic way, “You may even like teaching.” No wonder he was able to stay gainfully employed in the cutthroat world of publishing for so long. “Look at how well you did with the American girl.”

That brought a smile to his sister’s face. “She was hopeless until you became her tutor. My spectacular challenge is now a spectacular student! She has been moved ahead two levels.”

Stéphane turned to her. “What about us? We have been teaching her, too.”

Jean-Luc knew they had kept it on the most rudimentary levels. Nevertheless, Liliane kindly indulged them. “Yes, you and Benoit have been a big help, my darlings.”

What made him think he might actually be cut out for teaching was his experience with Alyce. But everything about her, their situation, and the style in which he taught was different. The restrictions of a classroom and teaching schedule would make him insane.

He sat up. “Not a word to Al-
ees
about any of this! I am healthy as an Angus steer!”

“Not until you say yes or no about the position,” Liliane demanded.

He plucked a white tissue from the box on his nightstand and waved it at her. “I surrender. Happy?”

Odalis appeared at the doorway. He saw immediately what she was holding and snapped, “Damn you!”

Raymond reached out and touched his shoulder. “I asked her to see if you had been writing anything.”

She handed her husband his crumpled pieces of yellow legal paper, now flattened out.

“Oh, go ahead and read it. I don’t care anymore. I don’t care about anything.”

“I read it,” Odalis said. “You must write more, Jean-Luc. You must.”

He turned over, pulled the pillow over his head, and screamed. Then he jumped up, grabbed the box of tissues, and yanked several of them out, filling the room with floating white squares.

“Okay! Okay! Okay! I surrender. I’ll write my memoir.”

By the time he was done with his ridiculous tantrum, everyone was laughing and applauding.

If only his books were as funny.

24

A Summer Feast

Marlaison

In class the next day, Alyce told the wild boar story. In French. It was a huge hit.

Claire exclaimed, “Al-
ees
, you are a
raconteur.
”

More people from various countries were invited to the boar feast she and Nelson were throwing the following night. The guest list grew to Ulrike and Jutta, two Danish men, one Japanese woman, two Brits, a South African and an Eastern Indian woman. Plus Liliane and her family.

As Alyce and Nelson set the long teak table that had turned gray from being outside, she was sorry Jean-Luc wasn’t there, though she was glad she was rising to this challenge on her own. Well, pretty much on her own. Nelson helped some, but mostly sat at his laptop staying in touch with clients and reading about winemaking.