Opposites Attack: A Novel with Recipes Provencal (5 page)

“I only know that he’s some writer I’ve never heard of.”

Solange stopped in her tracks. “He is not
some
writer. He is a great writer! He wrote
Taming the Black Sun
when he was 16. It is pure genius! And his last one was even more sublime. I hear the English translation is
sheet.
”

“What’s it about?”

“A tortured writer who cannot love a woman but falls for a horse. Then the horse… I will not tell you the rest. You must read it.”

“That’s okay. Doesn’t sound like my cup of tea.”

The renovated Alyce nearly skipped to school each weekday morning in her short dresses and chic sandals. On the day that she learned they were having a dance class and they weren’t teaching the minuet, she was ecstatic. She loved to dance. Not only that, their instructor was
gorgeous
.

Philippe wore skintight jeans that showed off his firm ass and long, strong legs; a form-fitting top left no question that he was in excellent shape.

Had to be gay.

She and her fellow students followed him to the cafeteria where the tables had been moved to create space. Pop music thumped. Alyce learned how to say “bend,” “spin,” “lunge,” “slide.”

At one point, Philippe grabbed her and they danced together—no words at all—in front of an audience that now included the cafeteria staff. Their expressions ranged from delight to bafflement. More than once Solange’s feminine dress flipped up to reveal Alyce’s new pink lace panties.

It was the first time she paid no attention to the clock on the wall.

Could he be straight?

The class ended too soon. Philippe motioned toward the hall. “Come with me to my office, Al-
ees.
Oh, I am bad to speak to you in English.
Français, Français!
”

He took her to the side of the building. There was a door. He held it open.

She rolled her eyes after peeking inside. “It’s a closet full of tools.”

He grabbed her waist. “Your
fantastique
dancing has aroused me. I must kiss you.”

Stunned, she acquiesced. For a moment.

She worked her way out of his grip and walked away that instant.

“We can dance anytime, but that’s it. I have a boyfriend.”

“You must come see me. I am a Super-Mec!”

She turned around. “A what?”

“Chippendale dancer. I am
Le Gentil Gendarme.
”

“A cop?”

He leaned seductively against the wall. “You will be very happy to see what is under my uniform.” He told her where he performed and added, “You have not seen the last of me.”

She returned to Solange’s and wasted no time flopping on the sofa and giddily telling her about Philippe.

“We have to check him out. What else is there to do here? Could he dance! And is there a ring on my finger? How do I know Nelson is being good?”

She had not noticed Solange had turned unusually quiet.

With narrowed eyes, her hostess said, “I already know his routine, Al-
ees.
He is my boyfriend.”

“Wh-wh-huh?! Boyfriend or boy
toy?
”

Solange crossed her spindly legs in the other direction and sat up straighter. “We do not have the
boy toy
in France. A lover is a lover!” She continued to glower at Alyce. “He did not even notice that was
my
dress you were wearing? The little
sheet.
”

Alyce had found Nelson’s attraction to Carmelita hard to understand, but there was only a 15-year difference, and he was 23 (and drunk) when she seduced him. Solange had to have at least 30 years on Philippe.

“But he’s so young and you’re so ol—”

Alyce clamped her hand over her mouth. She could see by Solange’s expression that it was too late. “Um, does this mean you want your clothes back?”

“
Non!
I never want to see them or you again!”

5

Get Thee to a Nunnery

Liliane pulled her chair closer to her desk, clasped her hands, and planted them before her with a thud.

“Here are your options, Al-
ees.
You may stay in a hotel at your expense; at a convent where you will be expected to attend all religious services, be up at dawn, do chores, and be asleep by 9:00, or in my brother’s guest cottage. His property was once a vineyard so you’ll be back in the country. It is a 20-minute bike ride.”

For a millisecond she thought of taking Nelson up on his offer to foot the bill for a hotel, but if there’s one thing she knew about him it was that he hated a woman who burned through his cash like You-know-who did. As did his mother.

Hotel = money I don’t have.

Convent = NO WAY.

Cottage = free.

“Before you answer,” Liliane said, “my brother is a well-known writer. Jean-Luc Broussard. He prizes his privacy and can be quite impossible. I am not sure he will agree to this.”

Alyce drew in her breath as she recalled the face of the rude man with the wild gray hair laughing at her in the antique store.

“Not him! The convent’s fine.”

She cocked her head. “You have met my brother?”

“He’s that old hippie who wrote the book about a guy who falls in love with a horse, right?”

“An old hippie.” Liliane delicately touched her throat. “Amusing. Not to him, I am sure. He is only 38. His hair turned gray while he was writing that novel.”

“He was with a woman with amazing long black hair.”

“Jean-Luc has no shortage of female companions. That is Isabella. She is staying with him. For now.”

While Alyce pondered how women could possibly find her brother attractive, Liliane picked up the phone and began to make a call.

“The convent it is. You can’t get into trouble there.” She broke into her sphinxlike smirk Alyce had come to know so well. “You will have no distractions and they will be very strict about not speaking to you in English. Think of how much your French will improve.”

Alyce sunk back in her chair, shut her eyes and prayed right there.
Dear God, why are you punishing me? What did I do to deserve this?

She heard her own inner voice reply:
Calling a convent punishment may not be the best approach with the Big Guy, Alyce.

Liliane’s final words were, “I suggest you change into something less revealing. And put on an extra layer or two. The abbey was built a thousand years ago and made of stone. Even on the hottest day it is cool there.”

“Wonderful. Can’t wait.”

St. Pierre Abbey was covered in so much ivy Alyce could barely see the stones beneath the huge 11th-century structure. She shivered just looking at it. She hoped it had been updated with electrical outlets so she could plug in a heater.

Dream on.

A silent nun directed her to a room that was only big enough for a cot-sized bed and a small table next to it. On it was a Bible, a beeswax candle, and a pack of matches. At least she wouldn’t have to rub two sticks together to light it. There was a tiny closet that her luggage barely fit into.

She asked in French where the
toilette
was.

The nun put her finger to her mouth and nodded for her to follow. Alyce considered the advantages of taking a vow of silence. She wouldn’t have to speak French, would she?

By far the strangest part of her first day was when she was getting ready for bed. Part of her nightly routine was to pop a birth control pill. She stared at the tiny dot sitting innocently in her palm. How could she take this while staying in a convent?!

Maybe she shouldn’t be taking them. Maybe there was a reason she was sent here.

She popped it anyway and crawled into the bed that was harder than her head that got her here in the first place. How could she have said that to Solange? One day
she’d
be that old.

She tried to see herself far into the future and drew a blank. In the pitch dark she drifted into Spiritual Mode. She shouldn’t just ponder the meaning of her own life. How shallow. What about everlasting life?

She lit the candle and picked up the Bible next to her. It was in French. So much for that. She blew out the candle.

It was so damn quiet the
silence
kept her awake.

Fantasies about Nelson started. Mixed with a few with Julien. And one with Philippe. Oh, how she wanted to make herself feel good in that little marble slab of a bed. But here? Absolutely not.

She caught herself fiddling with the diamond stud in her bellybutton.

She let out a groan of frustration and pounded her thigh with her fist.

Soon someone knocked on her door and asked in French, “Are you okay?”

“
Oui, oui.
Uh,
mal
…” What was the word for dream? “
Mal
dream.”

The woman’s voice said softly, “
Mauvais rêve.
”

Alyce repeated it. “
Merci.
”

About 15 minutes later there was another knock. Alyce opened the door and a nun who quietly introduced herself as Sister Therese stood there with a cup of tea. She leaned in, whispered almost inaudibly, “An herbal tea to help you sleep. May I come in?”

Once the door was shut, Alyce said equally as low, “I didn’t know you spoke English.”

“There is a lot you don’t know about me.”

Alyce couldn’t tell her age, somewhere between 30 and 50. She had the same serene smile all the nuns had. Then she told Alyce she was once a barmaid in New York City!

“I did not make enough to support myself and had to rely on boyfriends to survive. It was not a nice feeling to have such a loss of control. I became an alcoholic. Then I decided to devote my life to my Savior. I have no regrets.”

Alyce’s mind immediately went to Carmelita. She had been a barmaid when Nelson met her. She told Sister Therese about her.

“I want to feel compassion for her, but I can’t,” Alyce said. “She hasn’t worked a day since she had their child.”

“Perhaps she is jealous of you because she can’t take care of herself.”

Alyce’s dry response was, “Seems like she can take care of herself just fine.”

“When I was trying to be on my own,” she said in the most soothing tone, “I envied women who did not need a man for money. They could walk away if he did not love her or she did not love him. I was not free until I came here and gave up all attachments.”

Alyce gave her a serious look. “Don’t you miss sex? Come on, be honest.”

She lowered her eyes. “No.” She looked at Alyce directly. “I really don’t.”

“Didn’t you want to have a family?”

She shook her head. “There are many ways to feel fulfilled, Al-
ees.
Many. You will know in your heart which is the right one.”

All Alyce knew right then was that becoming a nun was surely not one of them.

By the fourth day, Alyce was so sleep deprived from not being able to conk out in her uncomfortable cot and then, just as she did, being woken up by crowing roosters or church bells, she was ready to get in a cab and head to the freakin’ airport.

She had just finished cleaning the breakfast dishes when Sister Therese came and whispered, “You have a visitor.” The sparkle in her eyes made Alyce’s heart pound a bit. Who could it be? Could Nelson have flown over to surprise her?

Julien Devreaux.

“I miss you, Al-
ees.
”

“Do you see where I am? I should be wearing a chastity belt with no key.”

“Let’s go for a walk. The grounds are beautiful here. I must talk to you.”

What could happen, she thought. We’re at a convent.

Alyce clasped her hands behind her back as they strolled through the old gardens. He spied a bench and steered her to it, grabbing one of her hands as she sat down. He kissed it twice before she withdrew it.

“I think about you constantly, Al-
ees.
”

She looked around to see if they were being watched. “How much did it cost to fix the showerhead? I feel like I owe your parents—”

“Forget that. When can I see you again?”

“I’ll never forget that.”

He was so cute when his serious face broke into a smile.

A sister walked by and smiled politely. They smiled back. For the next hour they kept it on a mental level after Alyce made it clear he was too young and she had a boyfriend.

He replied, “But of course.”

They talked about religion, how the universe began, and the power of prayer. It was pretty damn stimulating, and not just on her brain cells. Julien made her feel as though every word that came out of her mouth was fascinating to him.

“I love talking to you,” she said.

“I love writing about you.”

“What do you mean?”

“My greatest ambition is to become a novelist, and you have inspired me. It is about a young Frenchman who meets a mesmerizing American woman.”

The intensity in his eyes as he spoke caused a powerful swoon to come over her that she could not drive away. She would later blame it on vacationitis and her inflated ego. She pulled him behind the closest hydrangea bush. He gallantly took off his loose black T-shirt for her to recline on and in no time her breasts were freed from their pink Victoria’s Secret Miracle Bra.

She moved her lips to his ear. “We really have to stop, Julien.”