Tangled Ashes (35 page)

“That’s what I wanted to know,” Fallon said. “His full name is actually Karl-Joseph Gerhard. He gave up the Karl to erase that part of his past. When the police tried to evict him in the early fifties, the village rallied around him and Joseph became a sort of folk hero named Jojo.”

“And he’s been here ever since,” Jade said, her eyes on the gatehouse.

“Squatter’s rights,” Fallon explained. “The French are rather militant about them.”

Sylvia raised an eyebrow. “You got all that information in the hour you were in there?”

“It was a very informative hour,” he said with a chuckle, standing. “And an exhausting one at that.” He moved toward the river. “Philippe! Eva!” he called. “Put down those stones. We’re going home.”

“I
T’S TODAY!
It’s today! It’s today!” The kids came stampeding up the stairs with simultaneous shouts. They crashed into the hallway of Beck’s apartment and came to a sliding halt just inside his bedroom door.

“It’s today!” Philippe yelled, his eyes wide as saucers and his cheeks rosy with excitement.

“Yep,” Eva chirped, her red curls bobbing as she nodded her assent.

“You’re that excited to get me out of here, are you?” Beck asked, a grin belying the seriousness of his tone.

“Huh?” Philippe cocked his head to the side and considered the bewildering man in front of him.

“Mr. Becker thinks you’re excited because he’s leaving this morning,” Jade said as she appeared in the doorway. “And by the way, you two, did you stop to knock before you came careening in here?”

“Uh . . .” Philippe attempted to dodge the question with a feigned lapse of memory.

“Nope!” Eva said, effectively disarming her brother’s ploy. “My mommy’s having a baby!” she yelled, taking a couple steps forward so she stood just inches from Becker. “She’s having it right now in the hospital!”

“Yay! Yay! Yay!” Philippe chanted, stepping just as close to Becker as his sister and pumping his fist in the air.

Becker took a step back and glanced up at Jade. “Really?”

Jade nodded. “Three weeks early, but the doctor assures us everything will be fine.” Grabbing the children’s heads, she turned them around to face her and crouched down in front of them. “Are you listening carefully?” They nodded simultaneously. “We will go to the hospital just as soon as your father calls, but until then, you need to go down to the kitchen and color the cards you made for your new brother. Okay?” Another nod. “Okay. Now, scram!”

They left as discreetly as they’d come, their clatter as they descended the stairs doing strange things to Becker’s heartstrings.

Jade glanced at his suitcases. “Finished packing?”

“All but the carry–on.”

“You travel light.”

Beck laughed. “Yeah, I’m a firm believer in leaving ample space for duty-free booze.”

Jade narrowed her eyes at him.

“Joking,” he said, holding up a hand to ward off her diatribe. “Although the airport bars and the free wine on the plane are going to be . . . a challenge.”

Jade nodded. She’d spent enough time with him in the past three months to understand the power of the addiction.

“So,” Beck said, steering the topic into safer territory. “If the Fallons are at the hospital . . . ?”

“Mr. Fallon apologizes for not driving you to the airport himself. He had me order a taxi for you. It should be here at noon.”

The silence stretched until she laughed and smoothed a tendril of hair. “You know, for all the awkward standing we’ve done in this room, you’d think it would have gotten less uncomfortable by now. . . .”

“I’m not going to keep in touch,” Beck said, soft determination in his voice as he leaned back against the window frame and folded his arms across his chest. “After I leave,” he added. “I’m not going to stay in touch.”

Jade was silent for a moment as the words settled into finality. Then she seemed to draw herself up taller as she said, “Did I ask you to?”

“No, but . . . I just wanted you to know.”

She squared her shoulders and moved to stand directly in front of Becker.

“What’s with you people and personal space?” Becker asked before she could say anything.

She completely ignored his question, squinting at him. “Lest you missed it the first fifteen times I said it, Mr. Becker, I don’t want you to keep in touch.”

“Because of the cancer thing?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Because of the cancer thing?” she repeated. “Yes, Mr. Becker, because of that thing.”

Becker pushed off the window frame and took her by the arms, moving her determinedly backward until she sat in the chair next to the dresser. He didn’t release her as he crouched down in front of her and said, eyes ablaze, “You’re not going to die.”

“What—?”

“You’re not going to die. You’re going to beat this cancer. You’re going to get your energy back and you’re going to stop being afraid of getting out there and living life.”

Her words were slow and measured, her eyes narrowed. “Who do you think you are to be lecturing me on quality of life?”

“No one,” he answered, releasing her as he stood. “I can no more lecture you on quality of life than you can lecture me on vulnerability, and yet . . .” He shook his head and looked out the window in amazement. “We’ve been doing nothing but that since the day you first walked through that door and I mistook you for Mrs. Fallon.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying—and I’ve been giving this a lot of thought, trust me—I’m saying that I’m a messed-up freak of a man who isn’t fit to live around others.” He hurried to add, “But I was—once. I was able to . . . I was able to do everything I can’t do now. Trust, love, commit, expect success. And then I got kicked in the gut, completely broadsided, and . . . well, you’ve seen the results.”

Jade hadn’t moved a muscle since he’d deposited her in the chair. She stared, mute, her lower lip pinched between her teeth.

“See, I had this big speech prepared for you. I was going to order you around like some kind of despot. I was going to tell you to stop worrying about dying and to forget about your hair—it’ll grow back. And to keep telling yourself that, with or without cancer, you’ve got to keep fighting for all you want from life—”

“With or without breasts, too?” she asked quietly. “With or without those physical attributes men can’t seem to live without?”

Becker quelled the surge of denial and frustration that threatened to escape his lips. He saw the emptiness in Jade’s eyes, the sag in her shoulders as she spoke the words, and realized how very deep her anguish went.

“With or without breasts, too,” he said, his voice no louder than hers. “And I’m not saying that because I can relate in any way. I’m saying that because—because you’re Jade. You’re not a body part—you’re a feisty, frustrating, loving, supportive, and . . . and exasperating person who is worth fighting for.”

A tear escaped the corner of Jade’s eye and rolled down her cheek.

“Wait—no,” Becker said, reaching out a hand to stop her. “This was supposed to be a pep talk, not a . . . not a . . .” He raked his fingers through his hair, incapacitated by her emotion.

“And then what?” she whispered. “I live my life, I finish my education, I get a great job, and . . .” Another tear followed the first. She swiped at it. “And I wonder every day if the cancer is really gone or if it’s just lying in wait. And then I meet a man and fool myself into thinking he won’t mind my—deformity. And I tell myself that I might have beat this thing after all, and I have children, and . . . and suddenly the cancer is back or the man moves on or my daughter discovers she has cancer too, only she got it from me. And then what, Becker? Tell me what the fighting’s for if it only leads to that?”

Becker leaned back against the wall, appalled by Jade’s pain, then slid down to sit on the floor. His eyes were on the ceiling, on the window, on the tacky framed paintings, but not on Jade. Not on the pain she’d managed to hide for so long that was now agonizingly clear and running down her cheeks in wet streaks. He ran his hands over his face and let out a loud, defeated sigh.

“I’m no good at this,” he said. After a moment, he added, “Every time I try to . . .”

Jade smiled through her tears and hunched a shoulder. “You gave it your best shot,” she said.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Becker . . .”

“That thing I was saying before? About you lecturing me and me lecturing you and neither of us being really qualified? I don’t know how to help you. I want to. But I don’t know how to. Mostly because I’m too warped to figure myself out, so how am I supposed to be—I don’t know—be solid for you?”

Jade wiped her cheeks with the palms of her hands and released a deep sigh. “What are you trying to say, Becker?”

He leaned forward where he sat, elbows on his knees, and said, “I’m sorry. I’ve been a jerk. I’ve been a drunk. I’ve been a coward.”

“Beck . . .”

“I’ve climbed on that wagon a dozen times since I’ve gotten here, absolutely sure that I was going to pull it off this time, and I’ve fallen off hard every single time, mostly right on top of you. And I still managed to convince myself that I was in control.”

“Becker, you don’t have to apologize. . . .”

“And the bottom line of what I’m trying to say is that I know I can’t do this on my own. I know that now. I can’t do it alone. And the first thing I’m going to do when I get back to the States is figure out who I need and what I need to get to the other side of this, and I’m going to fight for it. I want to fight for it this time—with everything in the arsenal. But I’m not stupid enough to think I can be here for you too right now. So I need you to fight for yourself, because . . .” He stopped, depleted by the honesty that had become so foreign to him.

Jade shook her head, afraid of what might come next.

“Because Jojo waited almost sixty years in that gatehouse and never gave up. Because Marie held on to that baby while the mob was shoving and kicking and nearly killed her. I’ve never failed as much in my life as I’ve failed here. Mostly because I’ve never attempted as much in my life as I’ve attempted here. And I’ve gotten nowhere because I’ve been trying to do it on my own terms—on my own steam. But there’s hope. I know that now—I feel it. There’s hope when I’m dying for a swig of something strong, there’s hope when I can’t picture a life free from dependence, and there’s hope when all I can do is cuss at God because this isn’t easy enough. I’m ready to fight for that hope and to—to accept the hand.”

“Accept the hand?”

He shook his head, a small smile curving his lips. “It’s a Jojo thing,” he said. “The old guy might not say much, but when he does . . .” Beck looked over at the larger of his two suitcases, knowing the coarsely cut hunk of wood with the horse’s head emerging from it was safely tucked away inside. “I’m ready now,” he said. “I really am. And I’m through hurting people like you in the process. I’m through using you. And I’m willing to face whatever it takes. But I need to know, while I’m battling my demons, that you’re battling yours too because . . . because I might be ready in a while to meet someone and risk loving her, and when that day comes, I’ll hope that it’s . . .” He paused, his breath catching in his throat as he looked into the limpid brown eyes of this woman who had mesmerized and infuriated him every day for nearly three months. “I’ll hope that it’s someone who’s fought for her life and won the battle. I’ll hope that it’s someone like you.”

“Becker.”

A horn sounded near the carport. Becker stood and moved to the window. “Taxi’s here,” he said, turning back to Jade. He shook his head, unsure of how to say good-bye, mostly because he knew it was the last thing he wanted to do. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry for all the times I hurt you, and I’m sorry for . . . everything.”

Jade rose, a hand against her trembling lips, her cheeks wet with tears.

Becker moved around her to the dresser and made short work of stuffing the remaining odds and ends into his carry-on bag. He swallowed hard past the knot in his throat and blinked away the tears that blurred his own vision.

They walked down the stairs and through the kitchen together, Jade with his carry-on bag and Becker with the suitcases. The children weren’t there.

“Somebody’s going to spend a while in the time-out chair,” Beck said as they exited the kitchen and moved toward the Peugeot taxicab waiting in the courtyard.

Jade nodded her head toward the sound of laughter reaching them from the woods at the back of the property. “It’s a special day—I’ll make an exception just this once.”

They stood facing each other while the driver stowed the luggage. It was Becker who finally stepped forward to embrace the woman who’d been his ally and his nemesis. She felt frail in his arms. “Will you fight?” he whispered into her ear. “Please. I need to know you’re fighting too.”

Jade nodded against his chest and pushed away, her eyes downcast and brimming with tears. Beck lifted her chin and ran his fingers over her face, memorizing each feature, then turned and got into the cab. He didn’t look back as it drove past the coach house, the stables, and the guard towers. He didn’t turn to watch the castle disappear as the car rounded the corner. He swallowed hard, squared his shoulders, and faced resolutely forward.