BONCOURAGE

B•O•NCOURAGE

RediscoveringtheArtofLiving

INTHEHEARTofFRANCE

KENMCADAMS

•

illustrationsby

MARIAN“BING”BINGHAM

Copyright©2010byKenMcAdamsArt(insideandcover)©2010byMarian“Bing”BinghamFIRSTEDITION

Thisbookisbasedonrealevents,involvingrealpeople,butthenamesofthosepeopleandtheplacestheeventsoccurredhavebeenchangedtoprotecttheirprivacy.ManyconversationsreplicatedinEnglishactuallyoccurredintheFrenchlanguageandthetranslationspresentedinthisworkareonlyapproximations,thoughtheircontentisappropriatelyrepresentative.

Allrightsreserved.Nopartofthisbookmaybereproducedinanyformorbyanyelectronicormechanicalmeans,includinginformationstorageandretrievalsystems,withoutpermissioninwritingfromthepublisher,exceptbyareviewerwhomayquotebriefpassagesinareview.

LibraryofCongressCataloging-in-PublicationDataMcAdams,Ken.

Boncourage:rediscoveringtheartoflivingintheheartofFrance/KenMcAdams;withillustrationsbyMarian“Bing”Bingham.

p.cm.

ISBN978-1-55921-398-1(alk.paper)1.ToulouseRegion(France—Sociallifeandcustoms.2.ToulouseRegion(France)—Descriptionandtravel.3.Cityandtownlife—France—ToulouseRegion.4.McAdams,Ken—Homesandhaunts—France—ToulouseRegion.I.Title.

DC611.T718M352010944’.739—dc22

2010002310

2010002310

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First,toBobbyewhobelievedfromthebeginning,butdidn’tlivetoseethedreamcometrue.Andtoourkids,LexiandBrit,whoendlesslyhadtohearthepromise,“Yes,wewilldothatafterthebooksells,”whichneversold.Despitethoseunfulfilledpromises,theystilllovedtheirdad.AndfinallytoBing,whopickedupmybrokenpieces,soablyhelpedpullthembacktogether,thenpitchedinwithherbrushandpentoaddthepictorialsmywordswerenotenoughtofullyconvey,becomingsuchastrongpartofBONCOURAGE.

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

Dr.JudithBrileswhofoundmeEricKampmannwhogavemeMargotAtwell(AssociatePublisher),ErinSmith(DirectorofMarketing),andTrishHoard(Editor),alongwithGordonMcAdamsofRadioBoston,whoneverstoppedsaying,“Yesyoucan!”And,ofcourse,thelateVernonScottandCecilScott,bothmastersoftheeditedword.

CONTENTS

Prologue

SiteUnseen

BlackMountain

Isatis

DowntotheSeaandShips

BedsideRoses

OnaHillFarAway

TheKnockontheDoor

FromFlowerstoFires

BrebisandFramboise

AHotHouse?

Home,LooseEnds,andaMidnightCall

MadHouseDiseasebyMail

IsHomeWheretheHeartIs?

TranquilityBase?

AstheFanTurns

IfItDrips,CorkIt

Working…inFrance

AndtheWallCameTumblingDown

Expulsé

DownaRoadLessTraveled

Cows

ProgressandaSurprise

Fascist

GreenFire

Leatherman

Onthe“Dream”

ALongLonelyRoadforBing,Too

ComingTogether

TheFeralFamilyHereandMadameFontaineThere

NottheSoundofMusic

DifferentFolks

Madame’sNights

LaCrémaillère

PROLOGUENEVERAGAIN

MUCHOFthisstorybeganoneSundayafterachurchluncheon.IwashelpingcleanthekitchenwithClare,abeautiful,verytallblondemarriedtoBill,afriendofmine.Ihaveaterribletimewithtallblondes.WhenIwastwelveyearsold,thegirlnextdoorwasfourorfiveinchestallerthanmeandblonde.Icouldrunfasterandout-wrestleher;still,shecouldhitabaseballfarther.Shewasmyfirstlove.TokissherIhadtostandatleastonestepuponherfrontporch.Itwaspainfullydemeaning.Inevergotoverit.So,talkingtothecharming,yettoweringClare,Iblurtedout,“Don’tyouhavearegular-sizedsisteraroundsomewhere?”Shestoppeddryingtheplateinherhand,lookedslightlydownforamomentasasmileplayedaroundthecornersofhermouth.Then,turningandunfortunatelylookingstillfurtherdownatme,shesaid,“Actually,Ken,Ido.”

Aweeklater,atClareandBill’sHalloweenparty,ImetRegular-SizedBing.Mycostumewasthatofamanrunoverbythetractor-traileroflife,whileherswasasmartsuitandtheguardedfaceofasurvivor.Ilearnedthatthoughshe’dlostamarriage,aftergettingherkidsoffontheirown,she’dgrittedherteeth,sayingtoherself,“Okay,that’sthat,nowI’mmovingon.”Shewentbacktocollege,finishingherlong-delayedBA,thenaddedaMastersinArt,graduatingbothmagnacumlaude!Todaysheisatalentedandsuccessfulartistwhograciouslyagreedtoillustratethisbook.

MYQUESTIONtoClarehadcomeaboutthreeyearsafterleukemiamademeawidowerandthebankruptciesofPanAmandKiwiInternationalAirlinesendedmyflyingandexecutivecareersforgood.Thenmybrotherdied.Notlongafterthatmyliteraryagentdumpedmeonthebasisthat,thoughhethoughtIwrotewell,withoutmorebloodandgutsinmystuff,hedidn’tseemesellingbeyondpaperbacks,andhecouldn’tfeedhiswifeandkidsontheroyaltiestheybringin.Mynewlifeasawriter,afterfortyorsoyearsasanaviator,alsoseemeddeadinthewater.

SohereIwas,havingbeenahusbandforthirty-fiveyears,stilldeeplyinlovewiththewifedeparted;mybrothergone;apilotwithoutanairline;anexecutivewithoutacompany;andatotallyrejectedwriter.Iwasonarollofsorts…butonethatleftmeempty.Theneedleofmyemotionalgaugewasnearzero,myspiritsrunningonfumes.Ibegantowonderwhatthehelllifewasallabout.Iprayedalot.Iwenttochurchalot,evenbecameactiveinitsleadership,butIwasstillalone…untilmyquestiontoClareinthekitchen.

Fromourfirstmeeting,itwascleartomethatBingwasnotonetosufferwhiners.Ikeptmymouthshutaboutmytroublesforacoupleofweeks.ThenIbrokethatsilence,nottowhine,buttoaskhertomarryme.Sheaccepted!Atourages,withnewcareerstopursue,neitherofusfelttimewasonourside.Whywait?

Isoldmyhouse,movingoutofChappaqua,inNewYork’sWestchesterCounty,aboutthetimetheClintonsmovedin.BingputherfarmineasternConnecticutupforsale.Weneededtostartfreshwithanestofourown.WebidonarundownplaceinGreenwich,Connecticut,onewethoughtwouldbeacinchtorehab.ThehousewasBing’sfind.I

didn’tlikeitforitsclosed-in1950sinterioranditsyardresemblingaminilandfill,butitwaswithinwalkingdistancetotown.Bingandtherealtorsaid,“Forgethowthehouselooksrightnow;inrealestateit’sallaboutlocation.”

Wefoundanarchitectandacontractor.Guttingandreconstructingthehousewaspredictedtotakesixmonths.Ittooknearlytwoyears.Onefiascoafteranotherledustofeellikewe’dhiredLaurelandHardy.Forthatmatter,thesubcontractorscouldhavebeenoutoftheThreeStooges’shop.Thevarioustowninspectorsweren’tmuchbetter.

Forstarters,noonethoughttofileforabuildingpermit!Sowelostallthesubcontractors,costingusmonths.Then,whenwehadinspectorsouttoevaluatetheexistingundergroundoiltank,theysaiditwasokay.Aweeklaterthesamecrewreturnedforthefinalapprovalbutdeclaredthetankfaulty.WithsomeagitationIaskedhowoneweekitwasokayandthenextitwasnot?Withastraightface,theleadguysaid,“Thatwasthen.Thisisnow.Hey,shithappens.”Weswitchedtotowngas.

Whentheelectricalinspectorcamebyhefailedournewwiring.Iaskedhimtoshowmewhatwaswrongwithit.Inthebasementhepointedtoaclusterofcut-offbarewires.Iadmittedtheylookedscary,butfollowingthembackafewfeet,Ishowedhimtheywerecutatthatendtooandsimplyhadnotbeenpulledoutandthrownaway.Sincehewasembarrassed,wehadtowaitweeksforhissensitivitiestosortthemselvesoutandhisfinalsign-offtoberecorded.

Beforethemasterbathroom’smarblefloorwaslaid,Itoreupasectionofoldsubfloorthatlookedsuspicious.LaurelandHardyhadtoldmenottobother.Whenitwasoutoftheway,however,wefoundamajorsupportjoistwasn’tevenattachedattheendwherethenewfloorwouldbelaid.Ifthemarblehadgonedownwithoutthatjoistattached,

wouldbelaid.Ifthemarblehadgonedownwithoutthatjoistattached,thewholebathroomcouldhaveendedupinthediningroom.

Nextwewantedtoturntheemptyatticintoaguestsuite.Weweretolditcouldn’tbedonebecauseastairwaycouldnotbeconstructedforitthatwouldmeetcode.Butweweren’tconvinced.ThatnightBinggotouthersketchpadandstartedtowork.Anhourortwolatershe’dsolvedalltheproblems.AcoupleofdaysafterthattheguestsuitewasokayedbytheBuildingDepartment,thistimetoourarchitectandcontractor’smajorembarrassment.

Weekafterweek,monthaftermonth,BingandIploddedon,doingmuchoftheworkourselves,strugglingwithoneabsurdityafteranother,untilfinally,aboutayearandahalfbehindschedule,thejobwasdone.Theawfulhousehadbecomeabeautifulhouse,butwewereexhausted.We’dbeenmarriedclosetotwoyearsandhadn’tevenhadtimeforahoneymoon.So,asourhousewarmingpartydrewtoacloseandthetaillightsofourfriends’carsfadedintothedusk,BingandIlookedateachotherandsaid,inunison,NEVERAGAIN!

WhatfollowsiswhatcameofthatNEVERAGAIN.Everythingitdescribesactuallyhappened,thoughinsomecasestheeventshavebeenadjustedintimeandplacetohelptheflow.WealsodecidedtocallthevillagewefoundourselvesinLaMontagneNoire,ortheBlackMountain,inordertoshieldthedearpeoplewecametoknowandlovetherefrompantinghordesoftourists,likethosewhopushedandshovedtheirwayaroundPeterMayle’svillageinhismostentertainingAYearinProvence.Andfinally,nameswerechangedtoprotecttheinnocent,ofwhichIwasnotone.

Ourstoryhasitsupsanddowns,butbasicallyitisfun.Most

importantly,though,itisthereal-liferesponseoftwopeoplewhohavebeenthroughalotinlife,whofindeachotherlateinlife,andwhodocarryon,together.BingandIhopeyou’llenjoyreadingBonCourageasmuchaswehaveenjoyedlivingit.

KenMcAdamsHaute-Garonne,FranceSeptember9,2009

ONESITEUNSEEN

THROUGHOUTTHATfirstyeartogether,welivedallovertheplace,butmainlyonBing’sfarmacrossthestate,inSalem,whileshewastryingtosellit.Iwasn’tparticularlyhappywiththearrangement.Idon’tdowellinsomeoneelse’shouse.Ineedtobeatleastsemiincharge.Andtoo,beingsofarfromGreenwichmeantmostdayswehadtodrivefromoneendofConnecticuttotheothertokeeptherenovationmoving.IntheprocessIrebuiltanoldtrailerBinghadbehindherbarn,usingittohaulrocksfromthefieldsandwoodedtrails.Atwofer.WewereclearingthewayforhorsebackridersonthefarmaswellassupplyingrocksforthefaçadesofthenewgarageandretainingwallsgoingupinGreenwich.

Sixmonthsofthisgrewtotwelve,makingourmarriageprettymuchanin-transitaffair.Nostability,justendlessbackandforth.Weweretearingdownahousetobetterbuilditbackup,butwhatwerewedoingtoourmarriage?Wefeltlikeapairoflong-haultruckerstryingtobuild

alifetogetherinthecabofaKenworth.Whenthehousewasfinallyfinished,wesolemnlyagreedwewouldnevernevereveragaingetinvolvedinanotherrenovation.Lifewastooshortandweweretoooldforanymoreofthisnonsense.Fromnowonourmarriagehadtobeprimary.Wehadtofocusonourseriouspursuits—mywritingandBing’spainting.

Inanefforttorenewoursanity,Bingmentionedshe’dheardofanartistwhoransummerworkshopsinasmallsouthwesternFrenchvillage.“NotfarfromToulouse,”sheadded.“BeingJanuary,theoffseason,maybeitwouldbeavailableforacoupleofmonths.Wecouldgo,hide,paint,write,recreate.Reallygetournewlivesmoving.Finallyhaveourhoneymoon.Whatdoyouthink,Kenny?”

Wow!Toulousesurerangmybell.IhadgonethroughAirbusA-300flightschooltherewithPanAm,andyearsearlierhadbeenpartofanotherflightprograminnottoodistantBordeaux,whereI’dbeenanacceptancetestpilot.IthadbeenmyjobtoevaluatetheDassaultexecutivejetsbeingofferedtoPanAmforsaleworldwide.Ilovedtheareaandstillhadanacquaintanceortwolivingnearby.OnewasAdrian,whohadbeenwiththeFrenchAirForceinaprogramsimilartomine,andhadalsobeeninBordeaux.Hewasretirednowandoperatingthelargestbarge,orpéniche,ontheCanalduMidi.We’drenewoldtimes.Catchup.And,mostimportantly,BingandIwouldhavethathoneymoonwe’dmissed.

Igavethewholeprojectanenthusiastictwothumbsup,whichputBing,theto-do-listqueenofAmerica,onthephonetotheartsylady,Brie,bookingthehousefortwomonths;airlineticketsnext;thenanothercalltofriendslivingnearPariswhoevenofferedtopickusupat

CharlesdeGaulleAirport.AnInternet-bookedAviscarwassetforpickupneartheirhouseso,bang,bang,everythingwasingeartogo.

Finally,Iexchangede-mailswithAdrian,liningupfivedaysandfournightsonhisbarge.WewouldmotoronitfromPortLauragaissoutheastwardtothegreatmedievalfortresscityofCarcassonne.Ahyes,recreation(andrecreation)tothemaxlayahead.

SITTINGINtheairline’sdepartureloungeatJFK,aterminalwhichhadoncebelongedtomybelovedPanAm,ourcarry-onstuffsnuggledbyourfeet,Iwasstaringoffintospace,struckfirstbyhowquicklythejourney’snutsandboltshadcometogetherandbyhowquicklymylifehadpreviouslybeenpulledapart.FirstwifeBobbye’sdeath.Corporatebankruptcies.SellingmyWestchesterhouse,whichhadgivenmeandthekidsthirtyyearsofstability.Now,onlytwoyearsintoanewlifewithBing,ourkidsgone,alongwithBing’smarriage,itwasn’teasyforeitherofus.

RebuildingtheConnecticuthousewasourmetaphor:Firsteverythinghadtoberippedapart.Ourliveswereonthesametracknow,wewerefinallygettingstartedwithwhatwehadenvisioned.Thistripwouldbethefirsttimewewouldbefreetogether.Forthatmatter,we’dbeinanothercountrywithoutexternalstodistractus.Eventhedifferentlanguagemightactasashieldfromtheoutsideworld’sintrusion.Thenwe’dhaveonlyourselvestoblameifthingsstartedunraveling.Noarchitects.Nocontractors.Nobuildinginspectorstopointfingersat.

Bing,probablytryingforaculturalheadstart,wasreadingFranceMagazine.Iwasn’tsocreative.ForthemomentIwasjustexchangingair—inwiththegood,outwiththebad—lettingallthoseconflicted

thoughtstumbleastheywouldthroughmybrain.

“Youknow,Bing,”Ifinallysaid,tryingtoshakemyselfoutofit,“aftermaybefortyyearsincockpits,everythingfromfightersto747s,itfeelsalittlestrange,maybeevenunsettling,sittingaroundanairportwaitingtoboardaplanesomeoneelsewillfly.I’dalwaysbeenthefour-striperatthecontrols.NowI’mjustanotherseatwarmer.Idon’tmisstheflying,butthere’safeelingIgetsometimesinairportsthat’skindofticklingmenow.Maybeit’smemoriesoftheuniform,specialIDs,doorcombinations,andallthataccessandauthoritystuff.Lookatthosepilotsatthecoffeebar,”Iaddedwithanodintheirdirection.“ThatusedtobemelookingatwhoI’dbeflying—nicefolks,problemchildren,terrorists?Ineverknewwhichforsure.”

Bingglancedatthethreethenbacktohermagazine.“Twoofthemarefat,andtheskinnyone’sjacketsleevesaretooshort.I’llbetyoulookedrightoutofcentralcastinginyouruniform,”shesaid.Hereyescameoffthepagetogivemeacoolonce-over,thenscootedback.Idon’tthinkmythoughtswerecapturingherimagination.Iwentbacktomybasicbreathing.

MOSTPEOPLEexpectapilot’sretirementtoleaveahugevoidinhisorherlife,butasIsatwatchingthetake-offsandlandingsthroughthebigwindows,Iknewformeithadbeentheotherwayaround.Myyearspunchingholesintheskyhadbeenthevoidinmylife.I’dalwayswantedtobeawriter,butIwasn’tgoodenough.Well,inmyowndefense,myfirstnovel,writtenwhileIwasstillintheMarineCorps,waswellreceivedbyJohnFarrar,oneofAmerica’sleadingpublishers.He’dwrittenawonderfulletterpraisingmyworkandwelcomingmeintothe

Farrar&Strausfraternity.

Atthetimeithadseemedsoeasy.Tooeasy.PriortohisletterI’dexpectedtoendureyearsofcoldwaterwalk-ups.Hackingcoughsfromlackofheat.Gloveswiththosecut-offfingertipssoIcouldstilltapthekeysofmytrustyRemingtonwhilefightinghypothermia.Privation,deprivation,andfrustrationtobeexpected,yetallsprinkledwiththedandruffofyouthfulself-confidence.

Godmusthavebeenlistening.Notwantingtodisappoint,HehadStrauscancelthecontract.I’dsuddenlybeende-pledgedfromtheirfraternity.Outonmyass.

FortwoyearsI’dlivedofffirstwifeBobbye’slaborsasateacher.Then,withthenewsmypromisingwritingcareerhadtanked,thetimehadcomeformetostandonmyowntwofeet.Bobbyedeservedbetterthanacoldwaterwalk-upandcut-fingergloves.Ihadtogetarealjob,ifflyingairlinersevenqualifiedassuch.

GlancingatBingoutofthecornerofmyeye,anotherfragmentedthoughtpoppedintomyhead—shewasnostrangertotraveleither.Barelyintohertwenties,she’ddrivenaLandRoverfromParistoCalcuttaandback.Forher,zippingoffonthisFrenchadventurewouldbe,astheflyguyslikedtosay,apieceofcake.

OURATLANTICcrossingwasuneventful,exceptforthepurserlearningofmyPanAmpastandbumpingusupfrom“baglunch”tofirstclass.Then,beforedisembarkingatCharlesdeGaulle,sheslippedusabottleofchampagneforoldtime’ssake.

MyfriendsfromParis,PierreandMarie-Claude,werewaitingforus

outsidecustoms.TheyhadlivedinAmericawhenPierrewasDassault’sseniorU.S.representative,workingwithmeintheFalconJetprogramatPanAm.Theyhadapileofkids—evenanadoptedgirlwho,asaninfant,hadbeentorturedandthrownoffPontNeufintotheSeine,butwassavedbythem—andgrandkids;extraordinarypeople,andfortunatelyforus,fluentinEnglish.TheywouldbeourbridgetothelinguisticchallengesoflabelleFranceweknewlayahead.

Dayone,despitetheusualsleepdeprivation,Marie-ClaudeandBingwentsearchingforartsupplieswhilePierreandIsetofftopickupourrentalcar.Ratherthangoforanythingexciting,I’dInternetedforthepracticalandeconomic.AnOpel,asIrecall.ActuallyatinyOpelwithanengineaboutthesizeofaHarley-Davidson.“8V”wasjauntilydisplayedontherearhatch.Smiling,Pierreassuredmewecouldn’tgowrongwithsomethingpackingasmuchaseightvoltsofpower.Ishruggedandsignedthestackofpapers.

Thefirstinsightgainedfromtheprocesswasafullerunderstandingofmylinguisticinadequacies.WehadgonetoalocalAvisoffice,notoneofthosesophisticatedinternationalairportjobs,soeverythingwasinFrench.Pierreseemedtofeelthiswasimportant.WheninRome(orParis)andallthat.HeandMarie-ClaudehadfacedthesamethingwhentheyfirstcametoAmerica.(Sauceforthegoose,yadayada.)

EvenifI’drememberedeverywordofmyhighschoolFrench,alongwiththetechnicalstufffromtestingairplanesyearslater,I’dstillhavebeenwipedout.Theselocalsspokesofast,idiomatically,andwithnon-schoolaccents,Ifollowedverylittleofwhatwassaid,especiallyofwhatwassaidtome.Theagentwasenthusiastic,however,andexpoundedoncontractitemshesomehowassumedIunderstood.IguesshavingPierre

bymysidelentmeadegreeofsavoirfaire.Whoknows,butwhenheaskedmequestionsaboutinsurance,anddidIwantagascontractorwouldIbringthethingbackplein(full),Ihadhardlyaclue.Withliftedbrowshestaredhopefullyatme.Istaredbackwithanexpressionalongthelinesofacowwatchingsomeonerelievehimselfbythesideoftheroad.

Pierre,operatingwellwithinGaullistnorms,letmesweataminuteortwobeforejumpingin.Helaterexplainedhewaspreppingmeforthetwomonthsofvillagelivingahead.Goodmedicine,actually,consideringtheartladywewererentingfromhadmentionednoonespokeEnglishthere.OverthephoneinConnecticutthatsoundedrathercharming,butonsite,likeattheAviscounter,itbecamesomethingelseforsure.Isensedtroubleahead.

ThenextdaywehuggedPierreandMarie-ClaudegoodbyeandsetofftowardBlackMountain.Withthenewautoroutenotyetfinished,itwouldbeaboutaneight-hourride.Wedecidedtobreakitupintotwodaysofsightseeing.Noproblemsaroseforthefirsthundredkilometers.Thenwehadacollision…withreality.

NoPierreandMarie-Claudebyourside.Whenwepickedupthecar,Avishadnothadachancetofillthetank,whichwasindicatedonourcontract,andmeantwehadtostopalongourway.Atagasstation(unestation-service)wewereconfrontedbyablaringvoiceemanatingfromwhoknewwhere?Anddirectedatwhomorwhat?Wehadnoideawhattheofficiousracketwasabout,thoughitsvolumeandintensityimpliedthatifwewereinvolved,itmustbeprettydamnserious.Afteralotofdeer-in-the-headlightslookingaround(noothercarsweretheresoweassuredlywereit;whatever“it”was),amanburstfromthestation

office,theatricallyshakinghisheadfromsidetoside,withcavernousnostrilsinastallion’sflareashestrodetowardme.Thisblue-coveralledagentofEssobreezedpastwhereIstoodrootedbythepumps.Archinghiseyebrowstocathedralproportions,hepointed(Ithoughtover-dramatically)toeachfueltypesequentially,verbalizing(asiftothevillageidiot)—“Gasohol”(diesel);“Essence”(gas);“Super”(high-testwithlead);“Quatre-vingt-quinzesansplumb”(95-octanewithoutlead);“Quatre-vingt-dix-septsansplumb”(97-octanewithoutlead);“ouquatre-vingt-dix-neufsansplumb”(or99-octanelead-free).Goodgrief.ThoseFrenchnumberswerelikeRomannumerals—99beingfourtwentiesplustenplusnine.

“Monsieur,quelest-cevotrechoix?”Understandinganyofthiscameweekslater.ForthemomentIjuststaredattheman,stupidly.

Hegaveme95sansplumb.

Brave-heartBingtriedtoliftmyspiritswithashrugandasmile.Ofcourse,she’dbeenhidingbehindthemapinsidethecarthewholetimeandhadnotbeenabouttocomeouttojoinmeinthelineoffire.

Happilyfullofgas,ourlittle8-Volt(eightvalves,actually)gotbackontothehighwayandhelditsown,handily.Withinitsclass,thelittledevilstormed,nudgingtheequivalentof110mph!Nevertheless,therewerebiggerdogsinthehunt—Mercedes,Peugeots,Saabturbos,BMWs,theusuallistofsuspects—allflashingtheirlightsforustogetbacktotherightlanewherewebelonged.Sincethespeedlimitis130kilometersperhour,ortheequivalentofalittleover80mph,our190kmswerenotshabby.Nobodyseemedtobesweatingthepolice.Asamatteroffact,whereveraradarunitwasinplace,akilometerorsoearlierhadagentlemanlypositionedsignadvisingofthesame.Whichmadeitallthemorebizarretobeapartofgagglegoinglikehell,then

madeitallthemorebizarretobeapartofgagglegoinglikehell,thenallslowingtogetherwitheachappearanceofthesign.

I’vegottogivetheFrenchdriverscreditforélan:consideringbeingcaught40km/hroverthelimitwouldcostthemtheirlicenses,theystillletitroll.Seasonedhigh-speedtravelershadadvisedustogetinternationalpermits.Ifcaughtgoingreallyfast,thosecouldbesurrendered,whiletheregularU.S.licenseremainedvalid.

AlreadywewerediscoveringhowalotofFrenchbrainpowerseemstogointolivinglifefreeofgovernmentcomplications,despitethehugegovernmenttheyalwaysvotetokeep.Akindofahave-your-cake-and-eat-it-toocaperastheydodgedpoliceonthehighwaysandtaxcollectorsonbusinessbyways,allinatraditionofgoodsportsmanship.Intimewelearnedthatlife,totheconfidentandgenerallysmilingFrenchmen,isagame,anartformtobeenjoyedbutnottakentooseriously.

ThateveningwestoppedatawonderfullittlehotelinavillagenorthofPoitiers.OurplanhadbeentoroaralmostduesouthtotheLoire,dropoffontothesmallroadsalongittomeanderawhile,thenfindasnugaubergeforthenight.Typicallythesnuggly-inn-for-the-nightpartdidn’tcomeuntilafterI’dmanagedasignificantriversidescrewup.AlwaystryingforanotherBoyScoutbadge,Ifoundaroadnotevenonthemap.Myguttoldmethiswouldbeatestofmypath-findingskills.

“Kenny,”Bingoffereduncritically(ourdelayedhoneymoonstillineffect),“we’reawfullyclosetotheriver.”

“Exciting,isn’tit?”Isaid,myeyesgluedtothediminishingroadahead.

“Icanalmostputmyfingertipsintoit.”

“Exactly,”Ioffered,asifI’dplannedthisallalong.Tryingtoturnaroundjustthenwouldhavebeendicey.Thepavementwasnarrowingandturningtogravel.Thendirt.Withruts.Makethosepuddles.Shortgrass.Longgrass.Afainttracktonotrackatall…andfinally,justplainwater.

“TheriverLoire,”Iannouncedwithauthority.

“Kenny,”Bingobserved,“IthinkourridebesidetheLoirehasbecomearideintotheLoire.Nowwhat?”

“Timeforsomeexercise,”wasallIcouldthinkof.

Tryingtoturnaroundaslightlysubmerged8-Voltinanyriverisachore,butintheLoire?Dieu.

Binggavemeaquizzicallook.OneIwasseeingmoreofeachday.

“Whydon’tIgetbehindthewheel,”sheoffered,“whileyoupush?”

Goodplan.Actually,nootherplanwasavailable.Andthesunwassetting.Hellofawaytoendaday,orahoneymoon,oramarriageforthatmatter.So,uptomyanklesinmud,Ishovedfromthefront.Ishovedfromtherear.Bingracedtheengine,skillfullyworkingtheclutchtorockthesucker,butalsomanagingtoblowalotofmudalloverme.

Bythetimewegottothehotel,thecarandIweremudcakes.ItseemedbestforBingtonegotiateourpensionsinceIlookedmorelikeSasquatchthananythinghuman,muchlesscontinental.

OnlyFrenchwasspoken,shereported,butshegottheroomwithoutproblem.Iwasimpressedandabitdiscouraged.IhadflunkedattheAviscounterandyetBinghadstarredatthecheck-indesk.Mypersonalhygieneproblemdidn’traisemyspiritsmucheither.Ifcleanlinesswas

nexttoGodliness,Iwashalfwaytohell.

THENEXTmorningweranthelittlecarthroughawash,thenchargedbackontotheautoroute’slastfinishedsegment.

“Youknow,”Ioffered,“whenacarhasjustbeenwasheditseemstorunbetter.”

“Husbandstoo.”Bingsmiledwithaknowingnod.

Afterafewhoursofseriouskm’s,gettingoffontothe“D,”ordepartmental,roads,Inoticedsomethingofmorethanjustpassinginterest.Timeaftertime,asacarwouldappearinourrearviewmirror,itwouldquicklyclosetowhereitseemedabouttokissourrearbumper.Nomatterwhattheroadaheadlookedlike.

Now,Frenchroadsignsaregreat.Onethatshowsan“S”meansjustthat.Theroadaheadwouldbelikeaslalomcourse.Andspeedreductionswerenottobeignoredeither.Youhavetobecareful.Unless,ofcourse,youareFrench.

AswemotoredsoutheastonthedepartmentalroadfromToulousetoBlackMountain,comingoutofthesecondwiggleofan“S,”Ilookedattheapproachingtrafficonwhatwasnowarelativelystraightstretch.ThenIcheckedtherearviewmirroragain.

“Holyshit,”Isaid.

“What?”Bingasked,disappointmentinhereyesformyslipofthetongue.Sheisaverywell-bredlady.

Imadeathumbgesturetolookbehind.

Bingturned,andthenletoutherownversionofanexclamation.

“Pest!”shesaid.“Kenny,he’spracticallyinourbackseat.Hisbumper

mustbetouchingours.”

Itwastrue.ThroughmyrearviewmirrorIcouldseetheguyhadmissedaspotortwoshavingthismorning.AllofwhichremindedmeofaFarSidecartoonI’dseenshowingadriverglancingathissidemirrorthatwasfilledwithonehugeeyeball,andwrittenonthebottomofthemirrorwas:Objectsinmirrorarecloserthantheyappear.

“Tapthebrake,”Bingsuggested.

“That’llputhiminthefrontseat,”Icountered.

“ThenhecanteachusFrench,”shequipped.

“I’velearnedenoughfortoday,”Isaid.“NextchanceIget,I’mlettinghimby.There’snotenoughroomforthetwoofusonthesetwolanes.”

Whichworkedforthatcar,butwithinafewkilometersanotherFrenchmanblewuptoourbackside.Asamatteroffact,thatwasthewaytheyallhandledit.

HavingdrivenalotinItaly,sometimestoutedasladerrièreoftheworld’sdrivingscene,IstillfoundmyselfmorecomfortabletherethanhowIwasfeelinginFrance.TheItaliansarecrazydrivers,granted,buttheirmadnessmakessenseandcanbeanticipated.OnceIunderstoodtheyconsideredthemselveseternallyinagrandprix,Ihadnoproblem.ByfiguringoutwhatGiacomoAgostiniorJuanFangiowouldhavedoneinagivensituation,Iadjusted.EverythingwasaMilledeMiglia.Dangerous?Sure,buteachwildstunt,everyinsaneswerve,dive,ordicecouldbecountedontobeexecutedwithskill.Andthatseemedtobelackinghere.Skill.

Aboveall,thebasicFrenchmanappeareddeeplyaffectedbyasenseofself-esteem,especiallyregionallybasedself-esteem.Aswewouldlearn,

carsfromotherdépartementssufferedappropriatedisdain,butthoseofsupposedlyrusticregionsweretreatedmostshabbily.Acar’snumberplatetoldwhereitwasfromandimpliedwhatmightbeexpectedofthedriver’scompetence.That,initself,ledtoanimosities.TheParisianplatehadlittlerespectforthoseof,say,Narbonne.Andinturn,thoseofNarbonnehardlyconsideredParisapartofFrance.

“Hey,Napoleon,you’reputtingourlivesontheline,”Imutteredtoawanderingcarapproachingfromaheadwhileanotherhotshotwasjammingupfrombehindus.

“Whereishenow,Bing?”Iasked,asthathotshotslidintomyblindspot.

“He’swideleft,evenwithourbackdoor.Andhe’sgotacellphonetohisear!”Bingreported.

ForthemomentIcouldn’tseehim,butIcouldseethewobblyoncomingcarwhich,ohno,wasanauto-ècole,adriver’sednumber.Thiswasgoingtobeclose.Itouchedthebrake,butIhadtobecarefulofstillanotheridiotrollingupbehind.Allofasudden,countingthecarnexttous,whichIassumedwouldswerveinfrontofus,andtheslowauto-schoolerapproaching,thefourcarswerelockingontoacollisioncourse.

Thecellphoneguywasuptoourfrontfendernow,asthefaceoftheapproachingdrivingstudentregisteredstarkterror.Nexttoher,theteacherlookedconfidentandunconcernedashelitacigarette.ThenWHOOSH!MonsieurCellphonedidmakeitinlineaheadofus,onlyaninstantbeforetheauto-ècolecarwobbledby.

“Arewedead?”Bingasked,eyesclosed.

“Myheart’sstopped,butotherthanthatI’mstillhere,”Ireplied,shaken,butstillcuriousoverwhatM.Cellphonefiguredhe’d

shaken,butstillcuriousoverwhatM.Cellphonefiguredhe’daccomplishedbybeingonlyonecarlengthaheadofwherehehadbeen.He’dnearlyhadahead-oncollision.

“Kenny,didyouseethedrivingteacherlightingacigarettewhileallthatwasgoingon?”Bingaskedinamazement.

“Maybehefigureditwouldbehislast,likebeforeafiringsquad,”Isaid.

“That’swhenIclosedmyeyes.Ithadtobeourendthewaythestudentwaswigglingherwheel.”Bingsighed.“I’veneverseenanythinglikeit.”

“I’llbetwehaven’tseenthelastofitthough,”Isaid,shakingmyheadandwatchingtheclownaheadmakeanothermove.“Ohboy,therehegoesagain.Andherecomesaguyfrombehind.”Myhandsweresweatyonthewheelasthatnextcarthrashedpast.

THE“D”oftheseroutescouldalsostandfordelightful.Thoughgenerallytwolanes,theirsurfacesarenearlyassmoothastheelaboratelybuiltautoroutes.TheDswindfromtowntotown,villagetovillage,and,inruralsouthernFrance,areoftenlinedbymassivesycamoretrees(platanes)trimmedtoformcathedrallikearches,shadingthoseunderthem.Hundredsofyearsearlier,underLouisXIV,Bing’sresearchtoldus,theconceptofprotectingtravelersfromsun,wind,andrainhadledtothetrees’planting.Therealsowasmentionthattheyserveddefensively,firstagainstarrows,thenmusketfire,asacarriageorridermovedrapidlyalongthem.Whichallmadesense,andhadleftawonderfullegacyformoderntravelerstoenjoyaswell.

Unfortunately,inmuchofFrance,theyarebeingcutdown,victimsof

roadexpansionorforsafetyreasonsasdrunkendriversplowintothemlateatnight.Ofcourseenvironmentalistswillargue,Ithinkwithirrefutablelogic,thatthevelocityofatreerarelyexceedszero,andthatthecollisionismorelikelyaproductofadriver’sspeed,inattention,oralcoholconsumption,notbyanyactionofthetree.

“Idon’tunderstandwhythetreesshouldbepunished,”BingsaidaswestartedtoseerowsofplataneswithlargeredXsonthemdesignatingeachforcutting.UndertheXsthewordNONwaswrittenemphaticallyinbrightblue,thecolorofprotesthere.ItwouldbeinterestingtoseehowthissmallwarresolveditselfduringourstayinFrance.

ThefurtherfromToulousewedrove,thedeeperintofarmcountrywefoundourselves.Everyturnintheroadopenedanotherstunningpanoramaofrollinghillswhichfoldedintogentlevalleysalljuststartingtoliftfromtheirwinterbeds,anxiousforspring’scolorblastsofmustard,lavender,andsunflowerorangetotakeholdastheseasofgreenwinterwheatawaitsharvest.

Bing,evertheartist,hadhersketchpadoutandwasrecordingitall,blockingoutthestudiesshewouldlaterturnintooilsoncanvas.Butforme,IwasmorecaughtbyhowthecountrysideofthispartofFrancewasareverseofwhatweareusedtoinAmerica.Ourvillagestendtonestleinvalleys,alongriverswithroadsandrailroadtracksrunningby,connectingthemforcommerce,onetothenext.Whatwewereseeingherewerehilltoptownsofwalledchâteauxorchurchessurroundedbytile-roofedstonehouses.Thehillsidesandvalleysaroundthemwerepopulatedbyfieldsandpastureswithonlyanoccasionalbarnorshedstandinglonelyvigil.

Finallyitallstruckme:Thousandsofyearsofinvasions,brigandage,

warslargeandsmall,hadforcedthepeopletoclusterdefensivelyonthehighground.Wallsforbodilysecuritysurroundedthem,withchurchesinsidethosewallsforprotectionofthesoul.Forcenturiesthelandoutsidehadnotbeensafeformannorbeast.Asadfactthen,butrewardingforustodaywiththebeautyleftbehind.

Americaissodifferent.Anewcountry,freefromancientconflicts,withthewildernessandattackerssubdued,thesettlersfreedtobuildnexttostreams,erectbarnsandfarmhouseswheretheircropswhere,nothavingtodependonahilltoplordorpriesttoguardoverthem.

FROMTHElasthillockalongourway,acrossabroadvalleypressedagainstwhatwelaterlearnedwascalledLaMontagneNoire,andtheMassifCentral’shighplateaubeyond,Icouldmakeouttheancientabbeytowerwe’dbeentoldabout.Wepulledofftheroadontoagraveledoverlook.Iwasallbreathy,fixatedonthetowerandvillageatitsfeet.

“Bing,lookoverhere.There’sthetowerthatBriesaidtolookfor.Andthere’sthevillage,”IbabbledwhileIsensedherignoringme.“Bing,comeon,checkthisout,”Ipressed.

“Kenny,”shewhispered,“lookoverhere.Thisway,”sheindicatedpointinggenerallytothesouth.“Whatdoyousee?”

Ididlook…andohmygoodness.Whatasight!ThePyrenees!Asnowcappedwallofmountainsmarchingacrossthewholesouthwesternhorizon.Theyappearedsoclose.Likeabigger-than-lifemovieset.Incredible.AndabreathtakingpreludetoourentryintowhatwouldsoonbeourhideawayvillageofLaMontagneNoire,BlackMountain.

TWOBLACKMOUNTAIN

BEFORETURNINGfromourviewofthegrandwhitewallofmountains,Bing’sall-seeingartist’seyescaughtadistantdarkribbonwindinglikeacaterpillarbetweenusandthePyrenees.

“Lookatthatgrayishline…oftrees.Onthefarsideoftheautoroute,”shesaid,herindexfingermovingacrossthelandscapelikeshewaspushingthecarriageofanoldtypewriter.

“Ah,um,”Imumbled,seeingonlythevasthillock-dottedvalleymarchingtowardthemountains.“Oh,waitaminute…Iseethehighway,”Irecovered.“Soyoumeanthestreak,kindofbrokenhereandthere?”

“Moreplatanes,probablyborderingtheCanalduMidi,”shenoddedupatmeassheleanedherheadagainstmyshoulder.ThereweretimesBingcouldbetheteenagegirlnextdoor.IthankedGodIwasn’tstillalone,thenfeltanibbleofguiltforthethought.

“Andonthecanal,onhisboat,iswhereyou’llmeetAdrian.Dinner,fournights,fivedayscruisingdowntoCarcassonne.It’llbeterrific.And

fournights,fivedayscruisingdowntoCarcassonne.It’llbeterrific.Andheisterrifictoo,”Iassuredher.“Arealgentleman,wholoveshisLauragais.”

“Lauragais?Isthatawineorcheese?”Bingasked,raisinganeedlingeyebrowassheturnedbacktowardthecar.

“It’sthedepartment,orregion,whatever,”Iinformedher,feelingabitfullofmyself.

“Dotell,”Bingsaid,givingmeabounceofherhip,whichputmeoffbalanceasIwasreachingtolaymyarmacrosshershoulders.MystumblemusthavemadeuslooklikeapairofdrunkstothepassingPeugeotthathonkeditshorn,theyoungcoupleinsidesmilingandwaving.

Inourcar,pullingtheseatbeltovermyshoulderandturningontheignition,Isaid,“So,offwegotowardyondertowerandthehousebeforewesetsailforCarcassonne.Iswhat’s-her-name,Ijustsaidhername,theartschoollady,isshegoingtobetherewiththekeyorwhat?”

“Brie.She’dbetterbe,”Bingmurmured,snappingherbeltinplaceandreachingforhersketchbook.“Iwouldn’thavethefaintestideawhotoaskforoneifsheisn’taround.”

“Iwonderwhatthevillagelookslike,”Isaid,pullingbackontotheroad.“Asoldastheplaceis,it’sgottobecrawlingwithhistory.Maybeaguillotineinthetownsquare.Shouldwehavechocolatebarsforthekids?Cigarettesfordad,nylonsformom?”

“You’redatingyourself,”Bingquipped,decidingtoclosethesketchbook.“RightoutofPathéNewsreels,betweenthedoublefeatures,”sheconcluded,flippingtheeyeshadedownonhersidetocheckherhairinthemirror.

“Don’tforgetFleer’sDubbleBubblegum,”Ithrewin.

“Don’tforgetFleer’sDubbleBubblegum,”Ithrewin.

“NorPudandhisPals’comicsonthebacksideofthewrappers,”shecountered.

Iwasimpressed.She’dbeenbornaboutthetimebombswererainingdownonPearlHarbor,butstillabsorbedsomuchatsuchatenderage.I’dhavetobecarefulwithmyusualBS-ing.It’slikeI’dmarriedMissSnopes,theInternetauthority,ortheSpellCheckLady.

Istartedpayingmoreattentiontotheroad,preppingforthenextidiotcommittedtobumpingagainstourbackside.ButBing’smentionofmyhavingdatedmyselfstartedmethinkingabouthowourdrivefromToulousetowardBlackMountainhadbeenaturningbackthroughthepagesofahistorybook.Fromtheairportweleftthetwentiethcentury.Thecityitselftookusintotheeighteenandseventeenhundreds,whilespeedingdowntheseroadsreallysetthepagesflipping.UnderLouisXIV’splatanes,thosewonderfultreesliningthecanalandshadingourwayalongtheroad,weweredeepintotheseventeenthcentury.TheclosertotheAbbeyTowerwegot,thenearerweweretotheCathars,Charlemagne,thenVisigothandRomantimes.Asamatteroffact,Ilaterread,thefirstconstructionofthetowerhadbeeninthesixthCentury,560orsoAD.TheVisigothssmashedeverythingdownincludingthetower,butlaterCharlemagne’sfather,PepinleBref,alittleguyIguess,builtitbackup.Andwe’dthoughtBing’s1790farmhousewasold.

TwentyminuteslaterwepassedaHISTORICMEDIEVALVILLAGEsignannouncingourarrivalinBlackMountain.Weturnedoffinfrontofalargechurch.ThoughtherewasanarrowpointingtotheCentreVille,itwasmoreofawalkingstreetandonewayagainstusforcars.Weparkedinoneofthespacesunderalargecanopyofplatanesliningthe

promenadefromthechurch,pastthetownhallandaroundthecornertowardamarketandcafé.

BriehadfaxedamapthatshowedrueBasquestartingfromacentralfountaininthemiddleofthevillage.Number10wouldbedownfromthere,wherewewouldmeether,getthekey,comebackforourstuffinthecar,thensettlemostofitinthehouseforourreturnafterthebargeride.

Onlytwostepsdownthatstreet,wewereoohingandahhingliketotaltourists.

“OhBing,lookatthat,”Iwhisperedasifanythinglouderwouldmakeitalldisappear.“Thestreetissonarrow.Thesecondandthirdstorieshangoverandpracticallytoucheachother.It’slikeamovieset.Pinocchioorsomething.”

Shedidn’tsayanythingforamomentuntil,“Oh,Kenny,lookallthewaydown…totheendandhowthetoweriscentered.I’llbetthat’sthestandardpostcardshotofthevillage.It’sperfect.I’vegottopaintit.”

Westoodtakingitallinlikekidslickingtheedgesofnewicecreamcones,notwantingtodisturbtheirsymmetrytoosoonandfilledwiththespecialjoyofdeliciousanticipation.

ContinuingdownwhatprovedtoberuedelaVictoire,IknewI’dwritesomethingaboutthisscenesomeday,likeBingwouldputitoncanvas.Manyofthefaçadesoftheprivatehomeswepassedwerefacedinstone,whileotherswereinthestylewethinkofasTudor,knownhereascolombage.Itsexposedwoodframingwasseparatedbymortaredstone,Toulousianbrick,orthestucco-likematerialwelaterlearnedwascalledcrépi.Shuttersontheupperfloorsweregenerallyopentothe

sunlight,whilemanyatstreetlevelwereclosedforprivacy.Aspeoplepassed,wewerecharmedbytheirnoddingandoffering,BonjourMonsieuretMadame.

Thefirstshopwepassedwasaboulangeriewherethebreadswerebakedinawood-firedoven.Alittlefurtherdown,ahugepairofscissorshangingovertheroadfromasecond-storybracketannouncedahaircuttingsalon.Nexttothat,ameter-longreplicaofasnailcrawlingupthesideofthebuildingsomehowindicatedthelocalbarorcavewasbelow,readyforalldayorlong-into-the-nightsipping.Appropriately,acrossfromitwasalawyer’soffice,aswellasthatofthenotaire,similartoatownclerkinourworld.

Wepassedalovelystone-frontedrestaurantnamedLeTournesol,thesunflower,nexttotwosmallartgalleriesandalibrairieorbookshop.Thesefaced,ofallthings,atinypizzashop,medievalofcourse,asindicatedbytheyoungproprietorinfrontjugglingasmanyasfivewoodenballsatatime.Asoureyeswentupanddownandallaroundfollowingtheirflight,wehardlydaredsmileforfearwe’dbreakhisconcentration.HekeptjugglingwithaneaseandauthorityIfoundabitintimidating.

Ladépêche,ornewspaperstore,finishedthestreet’sshopsandconnectedtoacobbled,heart-shapedplaza,orplace,whererueBasquebegan.AroadgoingofftoourleftledtothegatesoftheoldAbbeyHotelwhilestraightahead,acrosstheplace,wasatinymewsorruelleovershadowedbytheAbbeyToweritself.Andtotheright,thecobblestookustothelittlesquarewithitsfountain.

Asifthetower’sbelfryarcheshidhugesuspiciouseyes,oursteppingintotheplazaseemedtosetoffoneveryloudclang!Ijumped.Whatwas

thatallabout?

“Eleven-thirty,”Bingannounced,asifreadingmymind.“We’rerightonschedule.Brieshouldbeatthehouse.”Then,checkinghermap,sheadded,“Whichlookstobedownheretothatfountain,withaslightright.RueBasque,yes,and…number10,againontheright.”

Bingisterrificnavigationally.She’snotonlyMissSnopes,theSpellCheckLady,butMs.Garmintoo.Shealways“orients”hermap,asthetermgoesinMarinePlatoonLeaderSchool,andquicklygetsusoffontherightfoot,orpath,ordirection.DearwifeBobbyehadbeenmuchthesame.Iguessit’safemalething.Whatever.

Walkingaroundthefountainwepassedatinymom-and-popgrocery,LePetitCasino,andasecondboulangerie/patisserieacrossfromthat.Abutchershopwasoffonasidestreet.Later,whenwewalkedthefulllengthofrueBasque,pastnumber10downtothecaféattheend,wefoundwewerebackatthesamemainroadwe’darrivedonwheretherewasanotherclusterofshops,apostofficeandbank,busstop,telephoneandpissotière,orpublictoilet.Andyes,stillathirdpatisserieacrossthewaytoo!AllofwhichimpressedmewiththelogicandsocialengineeringgoingintoFrenchvillageplanning—food,communications,transportation,andespeciallyformyagegroup,relief.

Asweapproachednumber10,wesawamarginallyCaliforniahippyish-lookingwomanbackingoutofthedoorwaywithalargevaliseintow.Brieforsure,Ithought,andBingconfirmedbycalling,“Brie.Isthatyou,Brie?”

Theattractivemiddle-agedbrunettewithverywhiteteethsmiledandreplied,“Yes,indeeditis.AndyoutwoareBingandKen,ofcourse.Well,welcometoBlackMountain.Imustsay,yourtimingcouldn’tbe

Well,welcometoBlackMountain.Imustsay,yourtimingcouldn’tbebetter.Myhusbandwillbeherewiththecarinamoment,thenwewillbeoffforParisandonhome.But,whilewewait,letmewalkyouthroughtheplace.”

“Fairenough,”Isaid,andfellinbehindBing,whowasalreadyinstepwithBrie.

“First,herearethekeys,”shesaid,handingBingthering.Shecautioned,“Becarefulwhenyouopenorclosethefrontdoor.It’sancient.Ithinkthelatchwasdesignedtosmashinvaders’fingersorsomething.Hurtslikehell.I’vedoneitamilliontimes.”

Weenteredthefrontsittingroomwithitsslightlybayedwindow,fireplace,sofa,twoeasychairs,andveryoldreddishtilefloor.Walkingacrosstheroomandstartingdownasmallhallwayleadingfromthefootofthestairstothekitchen,Brieswishedbackacurtaincoveringahalf-shelvedcubby,pointedtoalargeredpropanetank,andstartedherrapid-firemonologue.

“Thattankisyourbackup.Theonefeedingthestoveandkitchenwaterheaterisinthecourtyard.”Lettingthecurtainfallback,shebreezedintothekitchen,announcing,“Thewrenchisintheknifedrawunderthecounter.”

Myeyesfollowedheroutstretchedindexfinger,butmissedseeinganydrawer.

“There’sanothertankunderthecounterinthebathroomupstairs.Thattakescareoftheshower.Thegroceryhasreplacementbottles.ThehousehasnoheatbutAntonhaswood.Justgivehimacall.Butonlyusethefireplaceinthekitchen.Theothersarenogood.Thephoneonlydoeslocal.Forlongdistance,thepayphoneatthebusstoptakescards

youcangetmostanywhere.Themainwatershutoffisoutfrontunderthecover,butthereisoneunderthesinktoo,fordownstairs.Ifyouhaveproblemswithanyofthis,Antonisyourman.BesuretoclosetheupstairsshuttersMondays,Wednesdays,andThursdays,orisitFridays,I’mnotsure.ThebigtruckhastogetuptothePetitCasinotounload.So,that’saboutit.IhearDonoutfront.LovethoseVolvodiesels.WecertainlyshouldhavemoreofthemintheStates.Iloveelectricstoo.WeareSierraClubandvoteNader.Gottorun.Peace…andENJOY!”

Shewastothefrontdoorinabound,openedthenpulleditshutwithabang!Followedbyaloud“Ohshit!”confirmingwhatshe’djustwarnedusabout:jammingfingersinthelatch.Acardoorslammed,thenthegravellyrevoftheirdieselenginesoundedasitcrackledoffdowntheroadinthegeneraldirectionof…Haight-Ashbury.

Bingstoodmute,eyeswide,achainofkeysdanglingfromherhand.Myheadwasspinning.Ihadn’tacluewhatBriehadsaid,aboutanything.Ishouldhavethoughttotapeher.IrememberedsomethingaboutAnton.ButwhowasAnton?WherewasAnton?Howwerewesupposedtofindthisguy?

IWENTtobringthecararoundwhileBingexploredthehouse.Itwasquartertotwelve.ThatwholeexercisewithBriehadonlylastedtwoandhalfminutes.

Itookadifferentstreetbacktothechurch.Noshopsonit,thoughtherewasamaisondelaretraite,orretirementhome,andmorewonderfulfaçades.IfeltlikeoneoftheThreeMusketeers,orsomeonetime-warpedintothelongago.Butitwasn’tscary.Itwaswarm,embracing,asiftheoldhousesalongthewayhadarmsreachingoutto

pullmeclose.

Ohman,howIloveoldhouses.I’vebeenthatwayallmylife.AsearlyasIcanremember,mymotherwouldtakemefordrivesaroundtownjusttolookathouses,todreamoutloudabouthowitwouldbelivinginthisoneorthatone,orfixinganotherup,discoveringtheirsecretgardensorlearningthedarkmysteriesofthefamilieswhoownedthem.Wespenthoursatthis.Myfatherthoughtwewerecrazy.He’dshakehisheadandwonderaloud,whywouldanybodywantto“goofflookingatcurtainsallthetimelikeyoutwodo?”

Noonstillhadn’tstruckwhenIpulledthecaruponthesidewalkatnumber10andunloadedourstuffintothefrontroom.Wehadfourbigbags,plustwoovernightersIleftinthecarforourcanaltrip.Thefourbigsuckerswereheavy,buthadwheels.IhadrolledtheminonebyoneandtothefootofthestairswhenIheardBingcalldownfromthesecondfloor.

“Ken,you’vegottoseethis.It’severywhere.It’slikewhat’sonyourHarley-Davidsonbeltbuckle,”shelaughed.

“Huh?”wasmylessthanbrilliantreplyasIstartedhumpingthefirstbigsuitcaseuptowhereshewas.AfterstashingitinwhatBingdesignatedourbedroom,sheledmefromoneroomtothenext,pointingtothepaintedinscriptionsoneverywall.Theyweredonelarge,inpink,blue,andviolet.LIVETOPAINT!PAINTTOLIVE!MAKEARTNOTWAR!LOVEARTANDARTWILLLOVEYOU!

“Who’sArt?”IaskedasIheadeddownforanotherbag.ThenfromthebottomofthestairsIfoundmyownnotables.“Bing,”Icalledbackup,“I’vegotsomebeautiesdownhereforyoutoo.”

“Artsysayings?”sheasked,startingdown.

“Artsysayings?”sheasked,startingdown.

“Artsymorphingsaremorelikeit.Checktheseout,”IsaidasBingcamedown,stoppingbesideme.

Halvesofplatesanddishes,cupsandsaucersweregrowingoutofthewalls.

“Idon’tknowiftheyhadholesintheplasterandshovedthisstuffintothemasshelvesorwhatever,thengoopedaroundthemess,oriftheymadetheholesfirsttostuffthejunkin,allforart’ssake.Whichever,butIreallywouldliketoknowwhoArtis.”

“Interesting,”Bingoffered,professionallyignoringme.“I’dgivethematenforexecution,andanothertenforugliness.”

“Careful,”Icautioned,smiling,“theymayhearyou.”

“They’rehalfwaytoToulousebynow,”Bingshrugged.

Aswetroupedthroughthehouse,mentallyplacingBing’sstuffhere,mycomputerthere,booksontheshelves,thatsortofthing,webothbecameawarethatsomethinghadhappened,justafterthechurchbellsandthetowerbellhaddonetheirtwelvenoontoll.

“What’sup?”Iasked,notreallyexpectingananswer.

“Ithinkwe’rehearingthesoundofsilence,”Bingoffered,movingherwidenedeyesup,down,andaroundlikeasilentmoviequeenwouldhavedone.

“Huh?”Igrunted,beforefullyrealizingwhatshewassaying.Silence.Allofasuddennomorecarsoundsorpeopleonthesidewalkchattingastheypassedby.Iwenttothefrontwindowandlookedthroughthecurtains.Nothing.Notthewhisperofmovement.Itwaseerie.Nocats.Nodogs.Nopeople.Nothing.

“Ahhah,”Bingsmiled,havingfiguredwhatwasup.

Ohboy,Ithought.Justlikegrammarschoolalloveragain.Thegirl

Ohboy,Ithought.Justlikegrammarschoolalloveragain.Thegirlwiththeanswerhadherhandup,wavingit.

“Midday,”shenodded.“Rememberwhattheguidebooksaid?HoweverythinginsouthernFrancestops,totallystops,atnoon?So…it’snoon.”

Simpleasthat.Butwhathadreallycaughtourattentionwasthattherehadbeennoslowingdown.Itwasmoreaclick.Likeaflippedlightswitch.Probablytheonlythingsupandrunningatthemomentweretherestaurants.

“Sowhatdowedonow?”Iasked,findingthequietvaguelyunnerving.

“Howaboutsomelunch?Atthecaféonthecorner?”Bingsuggested,marchingthefourorfivestepsuptomeforabighugandasmallkiss.

ImovedthecaroutofrueBasquewhileBingwalkedthethirtypacestoLeCafédesFleurs.Icaughtupandwestartedthroughthefrontdoor.Asweentered,everyheadintheplaceturnedup,over,oraroundtostareatus.Wejuststoodtherenotknowingwhattodo.Theystared.Westared.Silenceprevailed.Thenthepropriétairecamearoundthebarofferingahearty“Bonjour.”Wemumbledthesameinreturnandeveryoneinthecaféboomedtheirownbonjours,andthenwentbacktotheirmeals.

Theproprietor’snameturnedouttobeClaude,butwithmyvoidoflinguisticskillsittookquiteawhileformetofigurethatout.HehadwhatwelaterlearnedwasaTarneseaccent,whichreallydidanumberonthesoundofthesimplestFrench.Demain,meaningtomorrow,cameoutsomethinglikederminggah.BingandIbothfeltadrift.

Claudeguidedustoatablefortwo,thenstoodoverus,nostrils

flaring,asheblastedawaywithwhat,weassumed,wasasummaryoftheplatdujourandwhateverelsewasofculinaryinterestthatday.

Whenhepaused,hisdarkbrowneyesbouncedfromme,toBing,tothebar,backtoseveralothertables,thentousagain.

WithasweetsmileBingsaid,“Oui.”

Thenhelookedtome,soIsaid,“Oui.”

“Merci,”herepliedwithanodandheadedtowardthekitchen.

“Whatdidhesay?”Iasked,feelingabitsilly.

“Ihavenoidea,”shesmiled,“butbeinginarestaurantIknewithadtoberelatedtofoodandI’mhungry.So,yesstruckmealotbetterthanno.”

“Youarebrilliant,”Ioffered,raisingmywaterglass,whichsheclickedwithhersandwebothsipped.

Bing’souibroughtustwohugesalads.Idon’tmeanjustthewimpyleafystuff.Theseweremajorkick-buttsaladswithslabsofmeat,cheese,tomatoes,endive,veggiesgalore.Andbread.Mygoodness!Crispontheoutsideandbillowysoftontheinside.Heaven.Withahalfliterofredwine.Thencamethemaincourse,whichwewerepracticallytoostuffedtotackle,buteatitallwedid.Itwassomekindofbrisket,withonionsandcarrotsandolivesandleeks,allgarlickedtothemax.Alongwithmashedpotatoesononeside,zucchiniontheother;paradiseinbetween.Thencheeses.Anddesert.Finallyespresso,orwhatevertheFrenchcallit.BytheendofallthatIfeltlikeatreestump.AcrossthetableBinglookedreadytoplopherforeheaddownforagoodsnooze

AfterhandingClaudeatwo-hundred-francnote(thenabouttwenty-fivedollars;eurosweren’tinyet)andgettingamessofchangeinreturn,westumbledbacktothehousetoputthingsinsomekindoforder

westumbledbacktothehousetoputthingsinsomekindoforderbeforeweleftforourbargetrip.WhichIreallywaslookingforwardto.SeeingAdrianagainandjoininghimonhisboatwasgoingtobeablast.Allthelieswewouldtell,whichisbasicfighter-pilottalk,AmericanorFrenchanyway.AndlikemyfriendPierre,thankfully,AdrianwasfluentinEnglish.

Afterthrowingcoldwateronourfaces,“fresheningup,”andallthatbusinesstokeepfromdozingoffonourdrivesouthtotheCanalduMidi,webothexperiencedthethrillofanticipation.

“Kenny,Ihaven’tbeenonacanalbargesinceIwasalittlegirl,intheNetherlandswithmyfolks.Thebargeownerandhiswifehadaschipperke.Suchasweetlittledog.IwonderifAdrianhasone,”shesaid,turningtowardme,herever-presentroadmapslippingtothefloor.

“Ithinkhehasacat,”Isaid.“Adriantoldmeinane-mailthatitwanders.Whenheisinportitsticksaround,butwhenhestartsdownthecanal,itgoesoffonitsown,butsomehowfiguresoutwherehewilldockforthenight.Then,voilà,itjumpsonboardfordinner.Catscanbeamazinganimals.”

“ImissGeorgia.Ifweevercomebackhere,we’llhavetobringher.MaybeintroducehertoAdrian’s.Maleorfemale?”

“Ihaven’tthefoggiest,”Ianswered,tryingtosoundasmuchlikeAlexGuinnessinBridgeontheRiverKwaiasIcould.

“Thisissoexciting,”shesaid,ignoringmyeffortwithoutsomuchasamention.

Ijustnodded,leavingitatthat,andfocusedontheroadahead.

THREEISATIS

THERESTofourdrivetoPortLauragaiswasadelight.Asafternoonshadowslengthened,aheadonourright,thesun’sslantingraysshimmeredhuesofcopperoffalonetowernestledamongfirtreesatopasmallcolline,orhill.

“Bing,overthere,atourtwoo’clock.Isn’tthatsomekindoflittlecastle?”Iasked,noddinginthedirectionofthesun’sreflections.

ShelookedwhereI’dindicated.“Ithinkso.Herecomesasign.Maybethat’lltellussomething.”

Islowedsowecouldtrytodeciphertheratherelegantscriptannouncing—HostellerieduChâteaudelaPomarède,withabluearrowpointinginthatdirection.

“Littlecastlesdeserveasmuchalookasbigones,”Bingsmiled,openingourMichelinguide.Afterashortflipthroughthepagesshe

added,“Itgotamentionasnewlyopened.Nostars,butIguesstheythinkit’saplacetokeepaneyeon.”

“Solet’sdoit,”Isaid,takingtherightturnacoupleofhundredmetersfurtherdowntheroad.

Wewoundacrossfields,throughasmallforeststand,andfinallycametoanintersectingroadleadingupandoverthebridgeddrymoatandthroughanarrowarchwaycutintotheancientcircularwall.Andwhatadelightfulsurpriselayontheotherside.Afullcobbledcourtyardwitharestaurantandaubergesnuggledunderthetowertoourright;thewallcontinuinginfrontandaroundtotheleftshieldingaprivateresidence,alsobuiltfrommassivestones,alongwithaschool,themairie,ortownhall,andapostoffice.Directlyahead,beyondthewall,thepeaksofthetallestvillageroofswerevisible.Gettingoutofthecar,lookingdowntwentyorthirtyfeettothetightlittleroadsnakingfromthebattlement’sbaseintothevillage,Ispiedapatisserie’ssign.Myheartskippedabeat—acastletallstandingguardoverbaguettesandpainauchocolat!InaheartbeatIwastransportedbacktomychildhoodwithitsstoriesofnoblemenandknightserrant.CouldthischâteauhavebeentherewardsomebraveheartreceivedforridingofftoaCrusadeorforbattlingMoorsonbehalfofAquitaine’sgrandduke?IlookedoveratBing,whoseheadwastippedwaybacksightingthetopofthetower.Shewasprobablytime-travelingtoo,seeingherselfinalonggownwavingtomefromwayupthereasIrodeoffindefenseofcroissants,decentfromage,andfinewineatcheapprices.

Thepicture-bookcharmoftheplacecapturedourhearts.Mineespecially.Icouldfeelmylong-sufferingaddictiontosuchthingsgrowingunrestrainedly.“Lookingatcurtains,”asmydadhadcalled

suchchildhooddreamingbackhomeinBoston.Now,hereinsouthwesternFrance,itwasbeyondanythingI’dexpected.Anditwasinfectious.Bing’seyeswerealldreamytoo.LiketheMadCowDiseasecroppingupinEngland,wecouldbeFrance’sfirstvictimsofasimilaraffliction…MadHouseDisease!Themoresweetlittlecastleslikethiswecameacross,themorethreatenedwewouldbe.

Backinthecar,wecontinuedourcircleoverthecobbles,backthroughthearchandoffontheroadagaintowardPortLauragais.

Tobettergetourmindsoffcastles,Binghadfoundanalternateroutethatwentbyseveralwindmills.ThefirstofthesewasinSaint-Félix-Lauragais.Itwasonahilltopslightlylowerthanthevillage’sandwasbracketedbytworuins,oneoneachside.WelaterlearnedthethreeoriginalwindmillshadbeenbuiltinthetwelfthcenturybytheCathars,asadeclarationoftheirbreakwiththeRomanchurch.They’ddedicatedthethreestructurestotheirconceptionof—theFather,theSon,andtheHolySpirit.

Fartherdowntheroadwefoundanotherhillwithanallwhitewindmill(moulin)toppingit.Thisonestillhaditshugeblades.Atfirstglancemyheartlustedforthatbeauty,butthenIrealizeditstoodalone.Nopatisserienearby.Thoughwe’dbeeninFrancejustamatterofdays,we’dalreadyconcludedthatachâteau,awindmill,evenavillage,withoutaboulangerie/patisserie,wasoffourlist.Thoughmanwassaidnottolivebybreadalone,inFrancelifesureashellwaseasierhavingthestuffcloseathand.So,thoughthewindmillwasmagnificent,itwouldjusthavetowaittowintheheartsofanotherDonQuixoteandhiswife.

Twentyminuteslater,attheCanalduMidi,wefoundaslipofaroad

parallelingthewaterway,whichwetookinaneastwarddirection.AmileortwodownitputusatPortLauragais,wherewegotourfirstlookatAdrian’sboatdominatingtheothersatthequay.Itwasbyfarthelargestandmosttastefullyappointed.Thehullwasaglisteningblack,setoffbygreentrimandwhitehatchcovers.Aclusterofwickerchairsandlowtablesgracedthecanopiedforedeck.ThetricolorofFrancecaughttheoccasionalbreezeatthesternwhilethedepartmentalbanner,itsgoldToulousiancrossonafieldofred,flutteredatthebow.TheIsatis.Ourhoneymoonhotel.Whatasplendidsight.

IHADN’TseenAdrianforyears.Iwasabittakenabackbythefactthathelookedsofit.Itrytokeepinshape,butclearlymyoldfriendwasdoingabetterjobofit.Superslim.IhopedBingdidn’tnotice.Iwasn’trunningmarathonsanymoresoI’dputonapoundortwoorthreeor…whatever.

Aswewalkedthequaytowardtheboat,watchingAdrianjumpfromthedecktothedock,theadviceofacollegeclassmatepoppedintomyhead.He’dexplainedthatinchoosingwhomtoroomwith,helookedforatleastonefellowshorterthanhewas;onefatter;andthelast,lessbright.AsAdrianapproached,IrealizedIpersonallyhadcoveredallthreeslotsforhim.Hewastallerthanme.Muchslimmer.FluentinEnglish,alongwithSpanish,Farsi,hisnativeFrench,andIdon’tknowhowmanyotherlanguages.Hehadbeenafighterpilot,ashadI,buthe’dreachedhigherrankwhileonactiveduty.Then,ontopofallthat,IfoundouthedroveavintageCorvetteandrodeaHarley-Davidson!Goodheavens.MyfriendhadbecomeFrance’sanswertoTopGunTomCruise.Nottomentionhisgloriouscanalboat,andhisskillsasachef,

hisknowledgeoftheregion’shistory,wines,andfoods,toallofwhichwewouldsoonbetreated.AndthentherewasthatsexyFrenchaccent.Ahman,Adriancouldbethedeathofme.

Bingadoredhim.Ofcourse.

WEHADthebowstateroom.Nooneelsewasbooked.Adrianshowedusthewayandhelpedwithourbags.Whilewegotunpackedhewenttothegalleytopreparetheaperitifshewouldserveinthesalon,abovedeckbeingtoochillywiththesunjustsetting.ThisgaveBingandmeafewmomentstogetthefeelofwhatourworldwouldbelikeforthenextfewdays.

Quietatnight,forsure,becausemostofourroomwasbelowthewaterline.Ofcoursetheportholesgivinglightwereaboveit,butwefoundwewereinacapsuleofsilence,soundblockedbythesurroundingwallsofwater.Itwassoquietitwasalmostscary.Ondeck,Ididn’timaginecruisingwouldbemuchdifferent.Thespeedofthesturdysteelbargethroughthecalmcanalwaterswouldn’tbemuchmorethanatawalkingpace,sotherewouldhardlybemuchnoiseofwaterslappingagainstthebow,northerumbleofarollingwakefromthestern.InfactIwasbeginningtoseethewholeexperienceassomethinglikefloatingonapostcard,seeingandbeingapartofitspicture,movingatanalmostimperceptiblepacefromoneporttoanother.

Dinnerwaswhatgourmetswritearticlesabout.Ourwines,pâtés,lamb,andlégumesablurofexcellenceIhavenorecordof,onlytheremembranceofdeliciousthingspast.Adrianpreparedandservedeverything.Hewasship’smaster,captain,cookandregionalguideallrolledintoone.So,asweate,weencouragedhimtotellusthehistoryof

hiscanal.TakinghisseatacrossfromBinghebeganl’histoire.

“SinceRomantimes,”hesaid,“therehadbeendreamsofbuildingacanaltolinktheMediterraneanSeaandtheAtlanticOcean.Notonlywoulditreducethedistanceforboatstotravel,buttherewouldbelesschanceofattackbypiratesaroundGibraltar.Butnoonewhoproposeditcouldfigurehowtobuildit.NottheRomans,FrançoisI,HenriIV,norRichelieu.ThemajorproblemwashowtodealwiththeSeuildeNaurouzepass,asix-hundred-forty-foothighpointnearBéziers.Finally,in1662theBaronofBonrepos,Pierre-PaulRiquet,committinghisentirefortune,evenhisdaughters’dowries,everything…convincedthepowers-that-behehadaplanthatwouldwork.Overthenextfouryearshedetailedhowlockswouldbeinstalledalongtheapproachestothathighestpoint,fromboththeeastandthewest.WatertofeeditallwouldbechanneleddownfromthehighlandlakesofLaMontagneNoire.

“Theystartedworkin1666.Ittookovertenthousandmenandfourteenyearstobuild.But,sixmonthsbeforeitwasopened,Riquet,poorfellow,died.Theysaiditwasfromsheerexhaustion.”

“Soundsaboutlikemywritingcareer,”Ithrewin,reachingformorebread.

“Probablymoreliketryingtogetthisboatventureupandrunning,”Adriancountered,withasmileandnodtowardBing.

“Anyway,”Adriansaid,returningtohisnarrative,“thecanalpartofthewaterrouteisone-hundred-fiftymileslong.BoatspassfromtheAtlanticOcean,intoGirondeEstuarytotheGaronneRiveratBordeaux,thencrossallofsouthernFrancetotheThaulagoonontheMediterranean,atPortdesOnglous.Thereareninety-onelocks,butonestretch,betweenArgens-MinervoisandBéziers,fifty-fourkilometers

stretch,betweenArgens-MinervoisandBéziers,fifty-fourkilometerslong,islock-free.NearBéziers,Riquetevencutaquartermiletunnelthroughtheridgethere,whichhereachedwithastairwayoflocks,upanddowneitherside.”

GettingtohisfeettoclearourdessertplatesAdrianadded,“Thelongestaboatcanbeandstillmangethosesteps,allowingittosailtheentirecanal,isthirtymeters,aboutninety-eightfeet.LePéniche-HôtelIsatis,whichyouareonrightnow,isoneofthem,”hesaid,andnoddedwithgentlepride.“Sheissteelhulled,originallytenmeterslonger,whichIhadslicedout,thenweldedthetwohalvesbacktogether,makingaproperfloatinghotel…foryourLauragaishoneymoon,”heconcludedwithawaveofhishand.

THECHAMPAGNEbyourbed,withadozenrosesbesideit,wassuchathoughtfultouch.Wehadnoideawhenhe’ddoneit.Whatakind,dearman.Howfortunatetohavethoughtofhimandhisboatforthislatebeginningofourlivestogether.

We’dhadalongcoupleofdays.Sleepwascalling.Theplaneride,meetingPierreandMarie-Claude,andthecareventsbytheLoirethedaybefore,gettingtorueBasque,andthenontotheCanalduMidialllineduptokeepthecorkinourchampagnebottle.Asignofourmaturity?

AsthebathroomJacuzzi’sdeeprumbleendedandthedrainopened,Bingcamethroughthedoorinclingingsilk.Sobeautiful!Myheartwasinmythroatbut,alas,myeyelidswereheavy.Shewalkedaroundthefootofthebedtoliftthecoversandslipunder,slidingwarmly,lovinglyclose.Huggingagainstme,hergoldenheadlyinggentlyonmyshoulder,shewhispered,“Wehavetherestofourlivestoloveeachother.Nowwewillsleepanddreamofallthewonderfulthingsthatlieaheadthenstart

willsleepanddreamofallthewonderfulthingsthatlieaheadthenstartfreshinthemorning.”

FOURDOWNTOTHESEAANDSHIPS

WHETHERABOARDaHagertySeaShellortheaircraftcarrierUSSConstellation,there’sstillacommonprotocolforputtingtosea.Well,inthiscase,movingawayfromadock.Linesmustbecastoff,inmanycasesknotsuntied,technicalstufflikethat.So,havinghadacareerinstate-of-the-artaviation,IfeltqualifiedtomanthebowlinesasAdrianrevvedthemightydieselfromthewheelhouse,andBingdidthehonorswiththelinesatthestern.

AdrianslippedthepropintoreverseandtheIsatisshudderedmomentarilyasitgroanedintomotion.Anothersortofrumblefollowedasthebladesdugdeeperintothewater,kickingupafewwadsofsunkensycamoreleavesfromtheshallowbottom,floatingthemthelengthofthebargeaswepulledfromthequay.

Ifoundallthisratherexciting.Hardlyacatapultshotfromacarrier

deck,asintheolddays,butitwasstillsatisfyingtofeelthegreatsteelbeastchurningintolifebeneathmyfeet.

Makingasmartcurlofmyline,tryingtocoilitonthedecklikeIfiguredarealsailorwould,IstraighteneduptoseeBingwavingtomefromthestern,smilinglikeateenager.Whatagreatsmile.Shiningblueeyes,flashingwhiteteeth,adelightfulgirlishnessaboutherthatmademyheartcrinkle.

“We’reonourway!”Ishoutedtothetwoofthem…onlytofeeltotallyoutofplaceasheadsonthequayturnedtoseewhotheforeignerwasmakingallthenoise.

Adriancontinuedpoweringusrearwardthefiftyyardstotheendofthequaywheretheharborbulgedintoasmalllagoon.Oncethere,heswungthesternfurtherstarboard,addingthrottleforbetterheadwaytotheharbormouthandentryintothecanalitself.

“Slickasawatersnakebetweenthestumps,”aCajunmighthavesaidashecenteredthebowtopointstraightdownthecanal’scenterlineinthedirectionofCastelnaudary,beancapitolofEuropenoless,andhomeofcassoulet.Thoughallthiswasdoneinheavy-boatslow-motion,itwasademandingandwell-executedfeat.Maybe,Ispeculated,theseFrenchAirForcetypeswerequalifiedformorethanjustmodelingreflectivesunglasses,whitesilkscarves,andsmartleatherjackets.

“BravoAdrian,”Icalledout,thistimewithoutembarrassment,evenaddingacontinentalsaluteforgoodmeasure.

Theweatherwasgood,crispbutunusuallymildforlateJanuary.Thecanalwasclear.Thevacationseasonstilllayaheadsoweexpectedlittletrafficalongtheway,atleastfromPortLauragaisthroughtheninelocks

toCastelnaudaryandthescorebeyondtoCarcassonne.ThoughthisfirstlegtoCastelnaudarywasjusteighteenandahalfkilometers,aboutelevenmiles,wewouldberumblingdownthecanalformorethanfourhours.AsIsaid,thebargeonlymadethreenauticalmilesperhour,andhavingthelockstocontendwith,slowmotionwasthemodeoftheday.

Intheoff-seasonthelockswereonlyopenfrom9AMto7PMandclosedatmiddayforanhour.Generallytherewasalockmaster’shouse,anauberge,byeachclusterofthesegateways.Intheseventeenthcentury,thebargesweredependantonmulespullingthemalongpathsortheyusedsailswherepossiblefortheMediterraneantoAtlanticrun,totalingaboutfivehundredmilesandweeksoftravel.Placestostayandtoeatalongthewayhadbeenimportant.Adrianexplainedthatinmoderntimes,sincethetrafficisonlyforpleasure,theplacesopennowaremorecafés,bars,andsmallrestaurants.Theoldmulepathsareusedforbicycling,jogging,andhiking.

Overdinnerthenightbefore,AdrianhadmadeclearhowproudhewasofhisIsatis.Notonlyitssize,butitssteelhulltoo.AsadefinitetraditionalistandhistorianoftheLauragais,herespectedthewoodbarges,thoughhisheartwaswithsteel.Hehadonlydistainforboatsmadefromanythingbutwoodorsteel.

“Tupperware,”hesaid,“that’swhatIcallthethingswithfiberglasshulls.Plastic.Tupperware.”

Theruleoftheroadapproachinglocksistolineupfirstcome,firstserve.Smallvesselscanjamintoalocktogether,butaboataslargeastheIsatishastobethesoleoccupantasthegatesclosebehinditandthewaterpoursinoroutasthecasemaybe.Sotherecanbesomedashinganddicingwhenalockappearsaroundabendandabigboatlikethe

Isatisisaheadofthepack.Sinceeachtransittakesuptotwentyminutes,thelittleboatscangetfrustratedtrailingbehindonesobig.

Asourfirstlockloomedahead,aTupperware,acabincruiserofaboutthirty-fivefeet,sleepingmaybesix,appearedsomedistancebehindandstartedtoaccelerate,hopingtowedgeinaheadofusatthelastminute.TomethemovewasjustthewaterversionoftheFrenchdriveronmacadam.Thislittleguyroareduptoourbutt(stern),justashewouldontheroad,thenziggedtohisleft,followingwithazagtohisright,tryingtoscootaheadbetweenusandthebank.Thoughthelockwasonlyafewboatlengthsahead,thecaptainthoughthecouldsqueezepastandslipinfront.

Maisaucontraire,monami.LittledidM.Tupperwareknowwehadafighterpilotatthehelm.Adriandeftlyaddedleftrudder,closingustowardthebankandthreateningtojamthesmallerboatagainstit.AtthelastsecondthecaptainoftheplasticboatacceptedthathishullwasnomatchfortheIsatis’steel,tosaynothingoftheboats’relativesizes,andcutpower.Thenhethrewhispropintoreverse,allthewhileshoutingandrude-gesturing,anastyblackcigarbobbingprecariouslyinhismouthandholdingaglassofsomethingdarkinhistillerhand.

Adrian,alwaysthegentleman,noddedgracefully,smiled,andwavedafriendlyhandtothepuffingred-facedfellowwhilehethrewhisownengineintoreversetostopusshortofthelock’sgate.Perhapsheoverdidtherevsabit.Thebubbleandboilourpropkickedupwasenoughtosetthelittleboatbobbing,causingthecaptain’sdrinktospillalloverhisred-and-whitetunic.Adelightfulsight.HowI’dlovetoputwheelsontheIsatisandrollitontotheroadsoflabelleFrancetodealwiththeidiotsweencounteredthelastfewdays.BravoAdrian!

Aswecontinueddownthecanal,Iwasstunnedbythecathedral

Aswecontinueddownthecanal,Iwasstunnedbythecathedralarchesofthestatelysycamorebranchesreachingfromeachsideofthewaterway,likefingertipstouchingoverourheads.

“Bing,it’sourdrivefromToulousealloveragain,”Isaid,myhandsspreadingapartlikeaconductorinfrontofhisorchestra.

“Sobeautiful!OhKenny,lookoverthere,”shesaidpointingtoourleft.“Apottery.Itlooksancient.We’vegottocomeback.YearsagoIworkedinclay.I’dlovetoseehowthesepeopledoit.I’llbettheirtechniquesgowayback,beforethecanalwasbuilt.”

Asweslippedpasttherusticoldfactory,Adrian’swavingfromthewheelhousecaughtmyeye.ItookBing’shandandwejoinedhimthere.

“Upahead,I’llpulltothebankforastop.Notverylong,”hesaid.“WeareapproachingtheobélisquedeRiquetbuiltbyhisdescendentsin1825.Itisneartheplacehehadwantedatown—wherethecanalwatersdivide,westtotheAtlantic,easttotheMediterraneanSea.Thereisapumpingstationthereandwhatoriginallyhadbeenalagoon,filledinnow,butwithamagnificentpromenadethroughtheplatanes,thesycamoresasyoucallthem.Iwantyoutoseeit.Igothereto…”hepausedaninstant,hiseyesseemedtomist,“Igothereto…re-create.Whentimesaredifficult.YouwillseewhatImean.Thereispeacethere.Perhapsitwillbeyourplaceforpeacefulnesstoo.”

Afterwelefttheboatthethreeofuswalkedtogether,Adrianpointingoutwhathadoncebeenacheckerboardlagoon,dividedintopartsbydikes,butwasnowallfilledinforpicnickingandpleasure.Wesawthepumpingstationandtheobelisk,butwhenweturnedtowalkthelongtree-linedpromenade,Adrianaskedtowalkahead,alone.

BingandIfollowedatadistance,handinhand,drinkingitallin—

BingandIfollowedatadistance,handinhand,drinkingitallin—thesunlightshimmeringthroughthebarelybuddingbranches,thegrowingwhispersofwindtellingusofchangesintheweatherahead.Sopeaceful.WeunderstoodAdrian’swishforaprivatemoment.Forwhatevermightbebotheringhim,thiswastheplacetosortitout.

OURNEXTstop,Bram,isthemidpointbetweenPortLauragaisandCarcassonne.Wehopedtomakeitbydark.ThefourandahalfhoursofourmorningcruisehadputusinthelovelylakelikeGrandBasinatCastelnaudary.

Sincethefivelocksonthefarsideofthebasinwereclosedforthenoonhour,wetooktheleadpositioninthequeue,andthenhovetoatapiling.Adrianscootedtothegalley,returningwithhotcassoulet,acolumnofsteamcurlingfromitstraditionalhugebeigepotterybowl.Binglentahandwiththedishes,freshbread,andsalad.IwasentrustedwithopeningwhatturnedouttobeadelightfulGaillacred(ChâteauVignalles),whichAdrianassureduswasrequiredtoproperlytampdownallthebeansandthings.

Ifyouhaven’texperiencedcassoulet,itisamust.It’sastewoflargepintobeansinathicksaucewrappedaroundsausageandducks’legs.Absolutelyperfectforcrispdayswhentravelingatasnail’spacedowncanalsliketheMidi.

Waitingforthelocktoopen,Bingstationedherselfinthegalleytodotheclean-up.SheandIwerebothhelpingwithwhateverjobswecouldtofreeAdrianforpiloting.

WithBingbelow,thetwoofustookafewmomentsontheforwarddecktocatchup.IthadbeenalongtimesinceAdrianandIhadseeneachother.Iwasinterestedtoknowwhatwasgoingonwithhisfamily

—hiswifeEmilie,daughterAimee,andhissonPaul.Hewasalreadyuptospeedwithmycircumstances.IhadwrittenshortlyafterBobbyediedandthenlatertoldhimofBing.ThatletterhadaskedaboutahoneymoonontheIsatis.

“WillEmiliebemeetingusinCarcassonne?”Iasked,ploppingdownontooneofthedeckchairs.

Adriandidn’trespondimmediately,takingthechairopposite.Then,afteralongpause,timeenoughformetorealizemyoldfriendwascarryingsomeextrabaggage,herubbedtheheelofhisrighthandagainsthisforeheadbeforelookingbackatme,hishandfallingintohislapandformingafist.

“EmilieandIaredivorced…”

“Oh,Adrian,I…”IstartedtooffercondolencesbuthesitatedwhenIsawtherewasmorehewantedtosay.

“…Andsheisinhospital.”

Lookingawayforamoment,pastthebowandtowardthewaitinglock,hiseyescamebacktomineandheadded,“Shetriedtocommitsuicide.Sheusedaknifeonherwrists.Aimeefoundher.Idon’tknowwhataffectthathashadonmygirl.Paulisawayatschool.Wehaven’ttoldhimofit.Anyofit…”hetrailedoff.

“Adrian,Iamsosorry.IfthereisanythingIcando…Ohman,weshouldn’tbetakingyouawayonthiscruise.Let’sturnaround.Youshouldbewithyourfamily.”

“No,no,”hesaid,shakinghishead,thefisthe’dformedopeningandclosingalmostspasmodically.“Shedidthislastyearandtheyearbeforetoo.Sheusedpillsthen.Thesecondtimesheevenpackedanovernightbagbeforeshetried.”

bagbeforeshetried.”

“Shepackedabagfirst?”Iexclaimed,eyeswide.“Whatthehell?”

“Idon’tthinksheistryingashardasshemight.Ithink…”hepausedlookingfortherightwords,“Ithinkshe’sdoingthistokillme.”

Icouldonlywatchwhilehesearchedforthebestwaytogoon.

“Afterthesuitcaseattempt,Ifeltitwastimeformetogetoutofherlife.ThingshadbeengoingterriblysinceIlefttheairforce.WhileIwasinthemilitaryshehadthebenefitsofmyrankasacolonel.Wehadamaid.Iwastheairattacheatseveralembassies.Itwasanexcitinglifewithallthecomforts.ThenIretired,formydream,thisboat.Itwasasiflifeevaporatedforher.Everythingchanged.Nomoreservants.Nomoreembassyparties.Nomorelimousines.WhilewewereinGermanyoverseeingthemodificationoftheIsatis,shewastrulymiserable.Shedidn’tadaptverywelltomybeingaboatworker,nordidshehaveanyinterestinbeingoneherself.

“ThemoreIthinkaboutourlivestogether,themoreIthinkshemarriedmycareer,notme.WhenIelectednottogoforgeneral,therewasnolongeracareertolove.Justme.ApparentlyIamnotenough.Sonowherfocusistomakemepayfortakingawayherexcitinglife.SheknowsIloveherandalwayswill;soshehurtsherselftohurtme.Ihadtogetout.Removemyself.Forhersake.Andforthekids.Itisallsocrazy.ButIhavenochoice.Maybethehospitalwillhelp.Icannot.”

Ididn’tknowwhattosay.Ifeltterriblyawkward.

“ThelasttimeIwascalledtothehospital,Aimeewaswithme,”hecontinued.“I’dhadadifficultday.Thebankhadbeenaproblem.Thecanalauthoritywasanother.AndthenIgotwordEmiliehadtriedtokillherselfagain.WhenIgotthereandwasassuredshewasstabilizedforthenight,Iwasshakingwithexhaustion…anger,perhaps.Idon’t

thenight,Iwasshakingwithexhaustion…anger,perhaps.Idon’tknow.Aimeeseemedtounderstandandgotmeouttothecar.Shesaidshewoulddrive,whichwasokaywithme.AfterahalfhourIdozedoff.Idon’tknowhowlongIwasasleep,butsomething…GodHimselfmaybe,toldmetowakeup.WhenIopenedmyeyes,Isawasharpturnahead,arowoftrees,andAimee’shandslockedonthewheelwiththeacceleratortothefloor.Shewasgoingtokillusboth.

“Myhandshotoutforthekey,buteverythingwasinslowmotion,shuttingdowntheignition…andgrabbingthewheel.ButImadeit.Asecondmoreandwe’dneverhavemadetheturn.

“Afterwestopped,shebrokedown.Totally.Igotoutofthecar,keepingthekeys,openedherdoor,liftedherout,andheldhertightasshecried…criedherheartout.IhavenoideahowlongitwasbeforeIwasabletoloadherintothebackseat,coverherwithablanket,andthendrivebacktothepsychiatrichospital.Whereshestillis…withhermother.

“So,Ken,mytwogirlsarelookingaftereachotherandPaulisaway.This,here,istheonlyplaceformetoberightnow.Withyouandwithyournewwife.TohelpyouandBingfindthehappinessyouandBobbyeshared.Youareoneoftheluckyones.Youfindwomentolovewholoveyouinreturn.Ienvyyouthat.Iamlefttolove…well,IguessmyIsatis.Ihelpher.Shehelpsme.Wehaveaverysimplerelationship.SomethingIhaveneverhadwithawoman.So,fornow,thetwoofus,Isatisandme,weareatyourservice.Letthatbe.LetyourselfandyourBingenjoyit.Forme…”

OhGod,Icouldhavecried.Inthemidstofsuchdeeppain,hewasthinkingofnothingbutwhatwasbestformeandBing.Ididn’tknowif

Adrianwasareligiousman,buthisinstinctssurelywerewhattruefaithisallabout.And,inaway,theIsatiswashisfloatingchurchandheitspastor.

Upaheadthelockmasterwascomingouttothegates.Adriansawhimandgottohisfeet,squeezingmyshoulderashestartedbacktothewheelhouse.

“Timetobeonourway,moncamarade.I’llstarttheengine.”

WETIEDupforthenightatBram.Asifourdiscussionhadnevertakenplace,Adrianpreparedanotherofhisfamousdinners.Fivecourses!Foiegras.ThenslenderslicesofsalmonsautéedinsunfloweroilwithgarlicandherbesdeProvence,quicklysearedandserveddeliciouslyhot.Rackoflambnext,withredpotatoesandcreamedspinach,followedbyanendiveandtomatosalad.Aselectionofcheesesbroughtustoadessertofchocolatemoussewithasprinklingofchoppednuts.AndfinallycoffeewithArmagnac.Acigarwouldhavebeennicetoo,butwhatthehell,weweren’tfighterpilotsanymore.

WhileAdrianputthegalleyinorder,BingandIbundledupagainstthenightchill,andclimbedthestairstothedecktowatchthestars.Morememoriesforme,ofcourse.Bittersweet,confusing.Settlingontothedeck’sonerattanloveseat,IputmyarmaroundBingandwebothhikedourfeetontothelowtable.Iwasn’tfeelingmuchliketalkingafterallAdrianhadtoldme.Ihadn’tsharedanyofitwithBingyet.Anothertime.Besides,sheseemedinawanderingmoodreadytoletthestarsbeherguide.

“SittingoutunderthenightskylikethismakesmethinkaboutConnecticutasayounggirl,withmyfather”shesaid.“Asaprofessorhe

wasalwaysformal,scholarly,butwehadawonderfulrelationship.Iwasthelastofhislittlegirls.Iguessthatmademespecial.He’dprobablysoftenedalotfromwhenmysisterswerethatage.WhichI’msuredidn’tmakethemveryhappy.Hisloveradiatedinaspecialwaywheneverwe’dbealone,reading,listeningtomusic,orjuststaringupatthesesamestars,”shesaid,noddingskyward.

Thesesamestars.BobbyeandIhadsharedtheminBostonwhenwewerefirstmarried.Andtheyhadbeenoverheadthenightshedied,whenI’dsearchedthemforasign.Something,anything…Itwouldhavebeeneasytostartcrying.

“Tellmemoreaboutyouandyourdad,”Iencouraged,tryingtogetsomedistancefromthestarsandthetearstheyseemedtobecommanding.

“Hedidn’twantmecorruptedbytheworld,”shesaidwithalittlechuckle.

“Iguessit’sgoodhenevermetmethen,”Ithrewin.

“Hewouldhavelikedyou.Youhavespirit.Strength,”Bingsaid,squeezingmyhand.“Hewasstrongtoo,butnotsomuchphysically.Hejuststooduptothings.Doingbattleattheuniversityforhisdepartment.Makingsurehisdaughtersstudiedhardandhadthebestadvantages.Whichwasaproblemforme.Iwastheyoungestandatomboy.Ithinkhesecretlylikedthat.Mysisterswerealwayssuchladies.He’dcatchmedoingthingshe’dforbidthemfromdoing,anddidn’treallypunishme.Mainlybecausebythetimemytransgressionscamealong,herealizedtheyweren’tveryimportant.Toolatefortheothersthough.

“Comicbooks,forinstance.Nocomicbooksallowed.Theyweretoo

shallow.ButIwassevenyearsold,knewmyownmind,andIlovedFelixtheCat.Simpleasthat.Oneofmyfriendshadasubscription.SinceIwasn’tallowedtohavesuchrubbishinourhouse,I’dhavetogotohersformyreading.So,onedayIcutoutthesubscriptionpagefrommyfriend’sFelixcomic,filledinmyaddressandall,scotchtapednickelsanddimesfrommyallowancetoit,andmaileditin.”

“Howdidyoufigureyouwouldn’tbecaught?”Iasked.

“Daddywouldgoofftohisofficeattheuniversity,andIwouldgethomefromschoolbeforethemailmangottoourhouse.SotheonedayamonthFelixwouldcome,Iwouldbeattheboxreadyandwaiting.Myparentsneverknewaboutit.AndIgrewupokay.Nohugecharacterdefects.”

“Ihope.”

“Careful,”shesaidsmiling,digginganelbowintomyribs.“ThentherewastheradioIfoundinsomebody’strash.Daddywouldn’tletuslistentoradioseither,otherthantheTexacoSaturdayafternoonoperaattheMet.NotevenOneMan’sFamilySundaynights.

“So,onthewayhomefromschooloneday,asfatewouldhaveit,Ifoundthisoldradioinatrashcanandbroughtithome.BythenIwaseleven,vastlysmarterandmoreresourcefulthanIhadbeenatseven.Afterlookingforobviousdamage,whichIdidn’tfind,Istartedcheckingwires.WithascrewdriverItookthebackpaneloffandactuallyfoundthemainblackwirehadoneofitsconnectionsbrokenoff.Ididn’tknowifthatwasallthatwaswrong,butIknewitwouldn’tworkwiththatwirebroken,soIfoundthehandyman’ssolderingstuffinthebasementand,whennoonewasaround,Isolderedthewiremyself.Then

everythingworked!Ihiditundermybedandwhennoonewasaround,IgottohearOneMan’sFamilyandTheShadowandCaptainMidnightandHopHarrigan,evenAmos‘n’Andy…allkindsofforbiddenfruitmygoodie-two-shoessistersnevertasted.Maybethat’swhyIwasn’talwayssopopularwiththem.”

“MaybeitwasaPCissue.Youknow,Amos‘n’Andy.”

“Maybe,”shesaidthoughtfully.“ActuallyDaddyfinallydidcatchmeandwasangry.HewasmostupsetoverhowmuchImusthavespentfortheradio.ItoldhimIpaidnothingforit,thatIfounditinsomebody’strashcanandthatIfiguredoutwhatwaswrongwithitandfixedit.Well,hiseyeswentwideandalittlesmiletweakedatthecornersofhismouth.IcouldtellI’dmadehimproud.Heletmekeepittoo.Whenmysisterscamebackfromcollegeandsawmelisteningtosuchaforbiddenthing,youcanimaginewhatranthroughtheirmindsabouttheirspoiledbabysister.Buthey,itwasn’tmyfaultmysistersweren’tintofixingbrokenjunk.”

IhuggedBingrealtight.Thenwebothfellsilent,lettingthestars,andthehugenesstheyfilled,dothetalking.

Thesecondnightinoursweetsubmergedcabinwasmoreloving.IwasfinallygettingtoknowBingmuchbetter.Hermoods,herneedforquiettime—somethingdifficulttoadapttoforaverynoisyguy.Butatleastwewereoutofthehouse-repairratrace.Outofthehustleofhouseselling,moving,andrenovating.Weweren’tjustspinningourwheelsanymore.Wewerefinallyfocusingonourlove,ourmarriage,writing,painting,theremainderofourlivestogether.Alreadywecouldfeelthecanalwasgivingusasoftlanding.

FIVEBEDSIDEROSES

THATNIGHTBingsleptassoundlyasshealwaysandmiraculouslydid.Instantlyasleep:unwakeableuntildawn’searlylight.AnamazingabilityIhaveneverbeensoluckytohave.ThenightformewasnothingbutawrestlewithmyconcernforAdrian.Howcouldsuchasweetandgentlemanbesobrutalizedbythehandoffate?Whatthehellcouldhedoaboutit?Thedivorcehadn’tendedhisloveforEmilie,Aimee,andPaul.Thoughhewasn’tboundtoanythinglegally,hisheartandsoulwerelockedinthisterriblestruggle,perhapsfortheirverylives.Wereheadifferentman,onewithoutsuchasenseofhonor,hewouldhavejustwalkedaway.

THENEXTmorningitrained.Thegoodnewswastherewerefewotherboatsonthecanal.However,andonlyGodknewwhy,Adriandecideditwastimeformetotakethehelm.Ofcoursealessermanwouldhave

beggedoff,butIhadbeenaMarine.Andafighterpilot!AllofwhichmeantIcouldn’tletmyFrogfriendshowmeup.SoIcinchedmybelt,groundmysneakersintothedeck,tookthrottleandwheelinhandwhilepointingthebigsteelson-of-a-bitchdownthecanal’scenterline,andzeroedinonthelockahead.

Perhapsbecausewemovedthroughthewateratadog-paddlepace,Ifoundtrackingthecenterlinedifficult.Wehadacrosswindthatnudgedusstarboard.Icorrectedport.Havingbeenusedtofine-tuningjetaircraftonfinalapproachwithmyfingertips,havingtospinahugewheelroundandroundtogettheslightestruddercorrectionoutofthishugeheavyboatwassomethingelseforme.And,justasoneadjustmentstartedtotakehold,mostofithadtobetakenoutwithalotmorewheel-spinningintheotherdirection.Itwaslikethestoneageofpiloting.Iwasamazedhowmucheasiera747wastocontrolthanaflat-bottomedcanalbarge.

Unfortunately,frommypointofview,AdriandecidedIwasdoingwellenoughtoenteralockonmyown.So,aboutahundredyardsout,hehadmecutpower,explainingIcoulddependonthebarge’smomentumforruddercontrol.HealsoshowedmehowtogetintoreverseandacceleratethepropforanemergencystopifIreallymessedup.

Despiteheavysweatingthroughmostoftheexercise,Iactuallyslippedthatbigbeautybetweenthegateswithoutsomuchasakisstoeithersideandbarelyatouchoftheforwardgateaswecamegentlytoastop!Thematelot(sailor)hadbecomesouscapitaine(firstofficer).FromthatmomenttillourarrivalinCarcassonnethenextday,Isharedthe

helm.Adrianevenputawhitebargecaponmyheadandastripedsailingsweaterovermyshoulders.Ihadarrived.Biensûr.

WemadeCarcassonneinexcellenttime.Andwhatasightthatgreatwalledcitywas!OnceacenterofthehereticalCatharsofthetwelfthcentury,andthebloodyCrusadetheyattracted,thepatinaofitsgreathighlichen-kissedwallshadsoftenedintosomethingwithamagickingdomtouch.Towers,turrets,battlements,drymoats,drawbridges,ancientstone,cobbledstreet,lyres,flutes,andflutteringbannerswereallthere,andoftherealstuff.

AswemadeharborneartheAudeRiver,whichwasbracketedbybridgesdatingbackhundredsofyears,theskiesclearedandthesettingsuntreatedustoagoldensandstonedreamscape.Thecanalandcastleloomedabovethelayersoflingeringfog.Whatathrillingtreasuretobehold.Breathtakingineveryway.

Adrianwasshowingsignsoffatigue.HewaswearingallthehatsontheIsatis—captain,maitred’hôtel,chef,andchiefbottlewasher—nottomentiontheaddedweightofhispersonalproblems.HeneededsomedowntimeandwasreceptivewhenIproposedBingandIwalkuptotheoldcity,sightsee,andhavedinnerthereonourown.

Bingworetheredjacketshe’dwornthefirstdayIwasatherfarm,whenweloadedfirewoodtogether.Ilovedthewayitsetoffherblondehairandbroughtouttheblueofhereyes,kindofMarleneDietrichstyle.Shewaswearingblackwoolslacksthatshowedoffhergreatlegs.Asshewalkedaheadofmefromourmooring,Iwastakenbyherslimwaistthatemphasizedthecurvesofherveryfemininederriere.Oftentoday,womenthinklittleboybottomsarethething,butthat’snotsoformostmen.AsfarasIwasconcerned,Bing’sfigurewasjustright.Areal

woman.AndmyblackleatherjacketandmatchingjeansaddedmoreDeutschlandtoBing’stouchofDietrich.IhopedwelookedEuropeanenoughnottooffendourFrenchhosts.I’dpulleditoffyearsbeforelivinginBerlinandworkinghardonagoodDeutscheaccent.Maybewe’ddecidetospendmoretimeinFrancethanjustthesetwomonthsandgetabetterlegupontheirlanguage.

Wewalkedagainhand-in-handacrossthebridge,fromthelowertowntothecastleonthehill,wherewespenttwohoursdiscoveringlacité’scobbledstreets,mapinhand.WestartedfromthemainentranceatPorteNarbonnaise,wentacrossthelices(theopenareabetweentheouterandinnerwalls),andonthroughtheentirefortress.RueCrosledustorueViolletleDucandontothePlaceSt.Jean,theChâteauComtal,andthemuseum.Wewalkedtheramparts,onthroughthecathedral,andintotheamphitheater.Itwasespeciallycharmingthewayeachtinystreetledustoanotherstillsmallerone,allwindingupanddownsteepmistinghills.Bythetimewe’dmadeacompletecircuitofitallwewerereadytofallintooneoftherestaurantsonthePlaceSt.Jean.Beingtheoff-season,itwaseasytogetatableclosetoawarmfire.

Wewerecomfortable.TheflickeringblazemadeBing’sfaceglow,hereyessparkle,andthoseteethflashwhenshesmiled.I’lladmittohavinghadmoreofthewinethanshe,andwithourcoffeeIaddedasnifterofArmagnac.

“I’msorryI’mnotagreatsuccess,Bing,”Ithrewoutfromnowhere.“Nobest-sellers.Nomovies.It’ssadifnotbizarrethatmyonlyaccomplishmentsareinthingsI’venevergivenadamnabout,”Isaid.“Butnow,together,finallyfocusingonthewriting,maybeI’llbeabletoturnitaround.”

Shelookedacrossthecandlelightthenreachedandputherhandover

Shelookedacrossthecandlelightthenreachedandputherhandovermine.

“Kenny,”shesaidsoftly.“Iunderstandwhatyou’resaying,butyouaren’tbeingfairtoyourself.Youhavedoneamazingthings.World’srecords.Createdanairlinefromscratch.Rananother.Builtafamily.Andlovedyourwifewithallyourheart.Whichisnotaproblemforme.YouhavehonoredBobbye.Iamtouched,honestly,deeplytouched.AndIhopeyouwillfeelthesamewayaboutmeastimegoesby,”sheaddedwithachuckofherchin.Thenshepaused,lookingdownatourhandsonthetable.Hereyesmistedasshelookedbackuptomeandsaid,“Ihadbeendeceivedanddeeplyhurt…inwaysIwon’tevengointo.Allthetrustbuiltupovertheyearswaskilled.Iwasleftempty,desperatelyempty.LosingBobbyemadeyouemptytoo.So,webothshareanunderstandingoftheworstkindofpain.”

TearsdampenedBing’scheeksasshecontinued,“EventhoughBobbyeisgone,Iknowshestilllivesinyourheart.Iacceptthat,withoutsadnessorreservations…becauseittellsmehowtrueyouare,howtrueyouwillbetome…untilagain…deathcomes.”

Sheslidherhandback,tookhernapkin,anddriedhereyes.

Everythingshe’dsaidwassogentle,poignant…likeshe’dliftedaburdenfrommyheart.

ITMUSThavebeenclosetomidnightbythetimewegotbacktotheboat.ThoughAdrian’saftcabin’slightwasout,thesalonwasdimlylight,aswasourstateroom.BingstarteddownthenarrowwayforwardwhileIlockedthedoortothedeckandturnedoffthesalonlight.ThenIfollowedhertoourroom.Atthedoorshereachedbackformyhand.

“Lookwhathedid,”shesaid,pointingtotheroseoneachofour

“Lookwhathedid,”shesaid,pointingtotheroseoneachofourpillowsandthesplitofchampagnechillingonthebedsidetable.

Pickingupanoteonthebedsheread,“Weshallfindpeace.Weshallheartheangelsandweshallseetheskysparklingwithdiamonds—AntonChekhov.”

Bingwalkedtothetable,liftedthelittlebottlefromthecooler,andhandeditandaglasstome.

“Gobacktothesalon.ReadabookuntilIcall,”shesaid,herheadslightlydownasshelookedupinthatPrincessDiwayshehad.

“Yes,ma’am,”Isaid,turningandfeelingundeniably…good.

WhenBingcalled,Itookwhatwasleftofthechampagneandwalkedtothestateroomdoor.Shewasstandingbythebed.Shewasjustbarelywearingaslightdarksilkthing…

“Youareabsolutelygorgeous,”Iwhispered.

“Ithoughtyou’dnevernotice,”shesaidwithasmile.“Comeoverhere…”

IdidasIwastold.Then,standingthereinthedimlightfromthemoonandstarspeekinginthroughtheportholes,Iwatchedherslideoutofthesilk…felthertouch…Ipulledherclose…andwewereone.

SIXONAHILLFARAWAY

THUMP!THUMP!Thump!

“Wha..?”Imumbled.

“Ummm,”Bingreturned,evenlessawakethanIwas.

Morethumps,followedbyanurgentmalevoiceraspingfromtheothersideofourdoor.“Ken,Bing,Ihavetotalkwithyou.Rightnow.”

OfcourseitwasAdrian,andbythesoundofhisvoicesomethingwasterriblywrong.

“Comein,Adrian.We’restillinbed,butcomeonin,”Icalledasweuntangledandsatup,backsagainsttheheadboard.

Adrianopenedthedoorandembarrassedlypokedhisheadin.Helookeddistraught.

“Forgivemybarginginthisway,butIjustgotacall.Mysonhasrunawayfromhisschool.Hisbedwasemptythismorning.Hisroommate

admittedhe’dseenhimleavetheroominthemiddleofthenight.Earlierhe’dreceivedaphonecall.Probablyfromhissisteratthehospital.Iexpectheisheadedthere.Iamgoingtotowntorentacartofindhim.”

Ijumpedoutofbed,grabbingmytrousers.“I’llgowithyou.Bingcanwatchtheboat,”Isaid,tryingtofindamissingshoeunderthedrapeofcovers.

“No,noKen.Therentalcarofficeisnearby.Iwillwalkthere.Afterthat…Idon’tknow.Ihavetofindhim.Hecandocrazythingssometimeswhenheisangry.Withhismotherandsisterastheyare,Idon’tknowwhathemightdo.I—”

“I’mcomingwithyou.We’llneedacartogetbacktoPortLauragaisourselves.Iftheboatcanstayhere,BingandI’lllockitup…leavethekeyswiththeharbormaster,ifthat’sallright.We’llexchangerentals,thengobacktoBlackMountaintosettlein.Youwon’thavetoworryaboutussittingaroundhere.AndAdrian,”Iadded,knowinghewasnotflushwithcash,“youkeepthecontractmoney.It’simportanttousthatyoudo.Noargument.”

BingnoddedheragreementasItiedmyshoes.

Hedidn’tsayanything.Itlookedlikehecouldn’t.Hiseyeswerebrimmingwithtearsasheturnedbacktothepassageway.Pullingonasweater,Ifollowed.Bing,anudesleeper,wasoutofbedbehindme.IhopedAdriandidn’tturnaround.Forthatmatter,IhopedBingdidn’tfollowusallthewaytothedeck.

ConsideringthepressureAdrianwasunder,thingswentsmoothly.WegotourcarsandIfollowedhimbacktothewharfwherehespoketotheharbormaster.Then,backattheboat,Adrianshoweduswhattodo

theharbormaster.Then,backattheboat,Adrianshoweduswhattodoaboutlockingupafterwehadourstufftogether.Hetossedafewclumpsofhisownclothesintoaknapsack,huggedme,kissedBing,andwasonhisway.

Wewavedourgoodbyes,silentlyprayingthingswouldbeallrightwithhisson.Howmuchmoremustthisgoodmanbeputthrough?

Oncethebargedoorswerelocked,hatchesboltedandourrentalcarloaded,weputAdrian’skeysinanenvelopeandleftthemwiththeharbormaster.ReturningtoBlackMountainthreedaysearlywasnotabigdealforus,butourheartswentouttoAdrian.Thepoormanwasbeingtorninalldirections.Hopefullywe’dbeabletohelpwhenthetimecame,wheneverthatmightbe.

BACKATnumber10rueBasquewestartedsettlinginforthelong-delayedworkinghoneymoonwe’denvisionedthisadventurewouldbe.Onourfirstdrive-throughofBlackMountain,I’dhauledourmonstersuitcasesuponeflighttotherearbedroom.Bing’spaintingmaterialshadgonetothehighceilingfloorabove.Theopennessthere,withagoodfifteenfeettotherafters,lookedtohavestudiopotential.Therewasalsoalargeskylightmakingtheareaopenandairy,withgoodlight.Weslidtwolongtablesendtoendforworkspacethatcouldhandlemurals,thenassembledherportableeasel,andaddedatallstoolfromthekitchen.Presto,Binghadherstudio.

Icrackedtheskylight,lettingsomebriskafternoonbreezeswaftdown,fresheningtheinteriorair.Binghoppedontothestoolandhappilysurveyedhernewdomain.Wispsofblondehairtickledhersmilingcheeks.Knowingshewouldsoonhaveherpaletteandbrushesinhand,shelookedhappy.Ifeltthesame.

DAYSOFfocusandaccomplishmentpassedintowarmsnugglynights.Weweretotallyinsynch,finallypursuingwhatwehadfirstimaginedourlivestogetherwouldbe.ThesinglenegativenippingaroundtheedgesofourblisswasAdrianandhisstruggles.I’dtoldBingwhathe’ddescribedontheboat—Emilieandtheirdaughter’stroubles.Bingwastouchedbyhowkindhehadbeenwithusdespiteallhe’dbeenstrugglingwith.ThewholesituationwasfurtherfrustratingbecausenoonereturnedthemessagesweleftonthebargephoneandIdidn’thavehiscellnumber.

Ourtelephoneexperienceswerecomplicatedinotherways.Sincesettlinginat10rueBasquewehadn’tmetanyonewhospokeEnglish,orreceivedcallsfromanywhospokeanythingbutFrench.Beyondbonjourandaurevoir,ouiandnon,Iwasprettymuchspeechless.Bingwasabitbetter,butoverallourlackoflanguageskillsgaveusakindofenforcedseclusion.Thetelephonewasdownstairs,inthekitchenwhereIworkedwithmylaptop.InitiallyI’dhadaterribletimetryingtoanswer,untilIlearnedthephrasenequittezpas,whichroughlymeans“don’thangup.”Usingthat,withasconvincingaFrenchaccentasIcouldmuster,Iwouldthenhangup!Whynot?Ihadn’tacluewhatanybodysaidanyway.Accordinglyourcallcountdiminished.

Thevillagewassmall.Onlyafewminuteswalkinanydirectionputusbeyonditsonce-walledboundariesandoffintoalotofinterestingplaces.TotheeastwasLaMontagneNoireitself:A4,000-footfoothilltotheMassifCentral’s6,000-foot-highplateau.Itofferedgreatmountainbiketrailswithawesomeviews.TherewerealsoRomanruinsuptherealongwithpoisonousviperslyinginwait.Whatmorecouldyouwant?(Actuallywelearnedtobanghikingsticksagainstrocksandtreestoscarethevipersoffasweapproached.)

scarethevipersoffasweapproached.)

Athree-kilometerhiketothesouth(lessthantwomiles)wouldtakeustothenextvillage,apreciousbutdarkplacetuckedintoarockyvaleleadingtoanancientcoppermine.Thoughtheancientsweregone,severalcoppershopswhisperedoftheirtimethere.Movingwestoftown,asBingstarteddoingwithregulardailywalks,therewerepathsthroughfieldspillaredwithhugesycamores,cowsclusteringbeneaththem,goatsandsheepforagingnearby.Tothenorth,ribbon-likecountrylaneswoundintomilesofwhatwouldbesummersunflowerfieldswhereVincentVanGoghprobablyoncewalked.Northwestwardandbeyond,fortifiedhillocksstoodguardoveritall,theirsteeplesorchâteauroofsshimmeringinthecrispafternoonsun.

Fromourearliestwalksontheseroadswefeltalivingearth,andallthatgrewfromit,reachingtoembraceus,pullingusintotheveryheartofLaMontageNoire.NeverintheU.S.hadIexperiencedsuchapowerfulpresencearoundmeashere.Bingfeltittoo.Everyday,myrunsandherwalksbecameatimeofmeditation,abondingwithanotherworldwewerediscoveringforthefirsttime…together.

THEREWERE,ofcourse,afewproblems.Ourfirstmorningbackfromtheboat,whileIwasinmid-shower(douche),thegasranout(eeeyow!).Instantfreeze.Throwingonsomeclothesbutstillgoose-bumpedandshivering,Itroopedtothesmallgroceryaroundthecornertoswapouremptytankofpropaneforafullone.

“Bonjour,”Iopenedconfidently,eyesbrightwithanticipationthoughmouthdryandnearlyemptyofwordsbeyond,“Gaz,s’ilvousplaît.”

“Bonjour,Monsieur.Jevoisvotrebouteilleestorangemaisnotreserviceestbleu.Ilfautalleràl’autremagasinparlafontaine.Leurgazestrouge.”

Hello.

Hello.

Ihadn’tunderstoodaword.Whattodonow?ThenIthoughtofwhatBingpulledoffatthecaféourfirstday.

“Oui,”Isaid.

Allwellandgood,exceptforthedumblookonmyface.Thoughmyouihadmadesense,mystanding,shifting,andstaringcanceledthatout.Theclerkrolledhereyes,puffedonecheekandblewtheairoutthatsideasshegottoherfeet.Shecamearoundthecounter,curlingafingerformetofollow.Wewentthroughthefrontdoor,turnedleft,andwalkedthefifteenyardspastthelittlebanktothecorner,acrossfromClaude’sCafédesFleurs.Ihadtheemptytankonmyshoulder.Fromthecorner,Sylvie,asIlaterlearnedwashername,pointedalongindexfingeruprueBasquetowardthefountain.ClearlyIwastowalkuptheretothesmallermarkettoexchangemytank.

“Mercibeaucoup,”Imumbled.

“Derien,Monsieur.Etboncourage,”shesaidwiththeslightestsmile.(Isensedshewasn’ttotallywritingmeoff.)

Istartedupthestreet,slowly,goose-bumpsdown,embarrassmentup.Iwasn’tlookingforwardtomynextlanguagehassle.AsIrecall,itwasKermittheFrogwhosaiditwasn’teasybeinggreen.HeshouldhavetriedbeingalinguisticallychallengedAmericaninFrance.

Themini-grocerymansaid,“BonjourMonsieur.”

“Bonjour,”Isaid,takingthetankoffmyshoulder.

Hesmiledandsaid,“MaisMonsieur,leréservoirmanquelemorceaudutransportquiestaussilegardedelavalve.”

Ummmm.Right.

Helookedatme.Ilookedathim.Thenhelookeddownatthetank

Helookedatme.Ilookedathim.Thenhelookeddownatthetankstandingbetweenus.Ididthesame.Thepressurewasmountingformetosaysomething.Anything.Butwhat?

“Oui,”Imutteredthoughtfully.

“Peut-êtrevousnemecomprenezpas.Entoutcas,jevousdonneraiunpleinquiaaussiungarde.”

AfteranotherpainfulpauseIthrewoutanother“Oui.”

“Bien,”heconcludedandtookmytankthroughadoorintheback,returningwithanother.Thisonewasdifferentintwoways.Ithadaguardaroundthevalve,whichalsodoubledasthecarryinghandle.(Eureka,nowIatleasthadaclueofwhathehadsaid.)Andthethingweighedaton,whichtoldmemore.

Fumblingthroughpayinghim,Iluggedthetankouttothedoor,butwasblockedbyalittleoldladypushingawheelbarrowcarryinganotherpropanetank.

“Bonjourmessieurs,”shesaid,noddingtobothofus.Wereturnedhergreetingassheeasilyliftedheremptyfromthewheelbarrow,puttingitonthefloorinfrontoftheproprietorand,withouttheslightesthesitationorstrain,liftedmineintoherbarrow.

“Allons,”shesaidwithanalmostcoquettishsmile,andstartedbackdownrueBasquetowardourhouse.

Ilookedatthemini-grocer.Hesmiled,shrugged,puffedacheek,anddidthefamiliarblow.Iturnedandhurriedafterher.

Everythingwasbackward.Iwassupposedtohelplittleoldladies,nottheotherwayaround.I’dbeenaMarine!(Attheheightofpeaceperhaps,but,damnit,aU.S.Marinenevertheless.)Ihadtojogtocatchup.WhenIgotbesideher,allIcouldsaywas“Oui.Merci,merci.Oui.”(I

reallyneededlanguagework.)

Atourdoor,Iliftedthetankoutofthewheelbarrow,smiled,andthankedheragain.Shetossedmeashrugwithkindofagirlishgrin(sourire),thenheadedbacktothemini-market,adefinitesashaytoherwalk.Whatagal.Surprisinglyenough,thenextdayBingandIhadtododgethesameoctogenarianasshebarreleddownrueBasqueonher125ccHondamotorcycle!Shewasdeckedoutinallthegear—helmet(casque),goggles(lunettes),anotherflappingblueskirt(jupe),andabigEvilKnievelgrin!

ITWASN’Tlongbeforethingsfellintoarhythm.Withfeweveningdistractionswewouldreadbythekitchenfireorgoupstairstosnuggleundergoose-downblankets.Earlytobedledtotheproverbialearlytorise,theabbeytowerbellannouncingeachhourandhalfhour.By5:30AMwewereinmotion.I’dgodownstairstochecktheInternetforhowtheworldhadfaredwhileweslept,andBingwouldstayupstairstomeditate.(VisitingYoda,asIcalledit.)Aftermynewsfix,I’dstartsometeawaterforBing,getmycoffeegoing,thenwalktooneofthethreepatisseries.

Earlyon,wediscoveredthecrispiestbreadandflakiestcroissantswerebakedbyastolid,almostgrumpypairattheirboulangerie/patisserieacrossfromClaude’scaféandwhosenameswenevergot.Ontheotherhand,theleasttastybreadandlessflakycroissantswereproducedbyadelightfulyoungcouplewhoseshopwasjustupbythefountainwhoimmediatelyvolunteeredtheirnames,CarolineandFrançois.Whattodo?Nicebreadornicepeople?Sowesplitthedifference,onedayhere,thenextthere.Andfromtimetotimewe’dfinessethewholeissueby

walkingtothethirdboulangerienearthechurchthatspecializedinwood-firedpaindecampagne,Bing’sfavorite.

OnedayIwentupthere,tothewood-firedplace,anddiscoveredtheyoungpropriétairehaddecidedtotie-dyehishair.Hischoiceofcolorswastherealattention-getter.Platinumblondeonafieldofbluewithsmudgesofredhereandthere.MyFrenchbeingasundependableasitwas,Itriedtocongratulatehimonhisnewlook,butIlaterlearnedithadcomeout“Prettycoloredhorsesonyourhead,myfriend.”

Astimewenton,myperformancewiththefellowdidnotimproveatall.Anothermorning,forexample,theweatherwasespeciallyrainyandcold.ThecloudcoveroffLaMontagneNoirepresseddownonthevillagelikeananvil,severelyconcentratingtheglorioussmellofhiswood-firedcroissants.Mynosetookoverfrommybrain.IwasledlikeazombiedirectlytotheshopofPretty-Horses-on-Head.

Ientered,butforthemoment,foundtheplaceempty.“Bonjour,”Icalled.ThenIheardsomeshufflinginthebackroomwheretheovenwas.

“BonjourMonsieur.”Themulticoloredyoungmanreturned,carryingaloadofbreadandcroissantsonatray.Unfortunately,asheswungaroundthecounter,asmallbaguettedroppedtothefloor.

“Merde,”hesaid.WhichherepeatedwhenIbenttohelp,bumpinghiscolorfulheadwithmygrayone,andcausingmoreofeverythingtofalltothefloor.

Myoriginalproblem—callinghishairhorses—hadbeenaconfusionofthewordchevaux(horses)withcheveux(hair).Ihadbeenclose,butthistimehewasdoingthetalking,andasusualIwasnotcatchingitall.As

weweretogetheronthefloorpickingupthedroppedgoods,hemuttered,“Mercibien,troudeballe.”

NaturallyIunderstoodthemercibienpart,butImissedthesignificanceoftroudeballe.Ididknowtroumeantholeandthatballewasaball,butIdidn’tknowwhattheymeantputtogether.

Inkeepingwithmyfunctionalignoranceofhislanguage,andtryingtobeanambassadorofAmericangoodwill,Ireplied,“Jevousenprie.Mercibeaucoup.Vousêtestrèsaimable.”(You’rewelcome.Thankyouverymuch.Youareverykind.)Towhichheshookhishead,puffedacheek,andblewairoutofthesideofhismouth,likeeveryoneseemedtodo,androlledhiseyes.Hethenpoppedfourfreshcroissantsintoabagandproddedmeoutthedoor.

Thecroissantsweredelicious.Then,asalways,Isettleddownatthekitchen’sbackwindowwithmylaptopwhileBingmarcheduptwofloorstoherstudioloft.Fromeighto’clocktonoonwewouldworkwithamazingconcentration.Nointerruptions,notelephonecallsanymore.Forlunchwe’dhavesomethingsimple,asaladorsoup,thengobacktowork.Aboutthree,three-thirty,sometimesfouro’clock,I’dlaceuptheAdidasfora10Krun.Bingwouldstraponherbackpackfilledwithpad,pencils,andpastelsforahiketowhatevervenuesheneededtosketchasastudyforherlatestcanvas.

MydailyrunswouldendateitherClaudeandSophie’sCafédesFleurs,orLaBrasserie,ownedandrunbyMichel,aFrenchman,withanEnglishlastname,Bond.Acoolbeeradjustedmydepletedelectrolytesontheonehand,whileanefforttospeakFrenchhammeredmyegoontheother.

TheafternoonofthedayIknockedPrettyHorse’scroissantsontothefloorI’dhadadecentjogandfeltalittlecockyabouthowI’dhandledmyselfwiththebaker.IorderedmybeeratClaude’s,thenstumbledthrougharecountofmyadventure,makingsuretomentionI’dbeenreferredtoasatroudeballe.Claudegavemeaknowingsmileandthencarefullyexplained,withthehelpofabookofvernaculartranslation,thatIhadbeencalledanasshole.WhichIfounddisappointing.However,Claudealsopointedout,afteranothershufflethroughthepagesofhisbook,thatevenalittlekidmightbereferredtoasuntroudeballe,soitdidn’thavethefullnegativeforceoftheAmericanexpression.Then,hewentontoshowmethattheAmericanassholeinFrenchwasbetterexpressedusingthewordforcunt!Ohmy.WhatcouldIsay?IleftitwithClaudethatbeingcalledanylevelofassholeinanylanguagewasnottheendoftheworld.Allconsidered,hethoughtI’dtakenitratherwellandgavemeafreerefillforkeepingmycool.

Generallyweatein.AfterdinnerIwouldreadtoBingwhatI’dwrittenthatday.IknewifIstumbledatallthatthewritingwasn’tcrisp.Abasicproof-test.Bing,ontheotherhand,wouldn’tshowmeherworkuntilitwascomplete.Sometimesshewouldsneakmeapreliminarysketchtolookat,butlittlemore.Onetimesheputaseriesofstilllifesshe’ddoneonthemantleoverthekitchenfireplace.Theywereextraordinary.Thoughonlystudiesforotherwork,IhonestlyfeltCezannewouldhavetradedhisbestbrushestohavepaintedthem.Bingisahellofatalent.

SATURDAYMORNINGSthenearbytownofRevelhasitsfarmers’market.Forthatmatter,mosteverytownofsizehasamarketdaysometimeduring

theweek.Regionallytheyarestaggeredsonottointerferewitheachother.

Revel’sisoutstanding.Thecentralmarket,roofedbutotherwiseopen,isyearround.Wefounditcharmingandpractical,assuchamarkethadtohavebeentorunforathousandyearsormore.Theareaunderitsgreatslopingtileroofhadprimespacereservedforthelocalfarmersshowingofftheirducks,geese,rabbits,chickens,eggs,produce,andcheeses.Watchingaclusteroftheserusticswasasideshowinitself.

“Bing,checkthoseoldguyswiththegeese,”Isaid,noddingtoaclusteroffivefarmers.Eachhadsomethinghangingfromhismouth—ahand-rolledcigarette,awetdroopingcigar,oragnarlyoldpipe.Theyworeeitherhighbrownrubberbootsorrundownclodhoppers.Biboverallswithheavy,nondescriptjacketscoveredtheirgood-sizedfarmbellies.

“Watchwhathappenswhenthecustomerlookingattheducksgetsnearthem.”

Asthemanapproached,thegentwiththepipetappedthenearestgooseonitsbuttwithhisfoot.Abarrageofsquawk,squawk,squawksfilledtheairastheothersjoinedin,thewholelotfloppingaroundasbesttheycould,tiedastheywere,butcertainlyalllookingveryhealthy.

ThenBingletoutoneofthoselongaaawwws.“Kenny,”shesaid,“lookatthebunniesintheboxes,andthechildrenaroundthem.”

Awholecrowdoflittlekidssquatteddownontheirheels,hunchedover,ticklingandpettingtherabbits.Socute.Precious.ThoughIhaddifficultynotthinkingthatmostofthosebunnieswouldbesomeone’sdinnerbynightfall.

Stayingunderthemarché’sbigroof,BingandIwouldbuyourcheeses,smallveggies,andbakedgoodsfromthemom&popsthere.Ourheartsachedfortheelderlycouplesintheirwornclotheswhosetupshakycardtables,spreadclothsornewspaperoverthem,andcarefullylaidouttheirmeagercollectionsforsale.Onecouplewealwayslookedforhadasfewassixplumptomatoes,afewgarlicbulbs,someleeks,acabbage,andmaybetwodozeneggsontheirtable.They’dsitontheirricketychairs,eyeswideandhopeful,lookingforsomeonewhoknewqualityandtheworthoftheirlabor.Sofewfrancschangedhands,buteachthatdidwouldbehandledthankfully,almostreverently,asitwasputintoabatteredcigarboxbythewifewhileherhusbandslippedthepurchasesintoasacktheircroissantshadbeencarriedinthedaybefore.Asthefewthingslaidoutbecamefewerstill,theireyestwinkledandtheirsmilesbroadened.Whenallwasgone,theyweresatisfied.They’dhadagoodday.ForBingandme,ithadbeenanevenbetterdaybuyingfromthemandbeingapartoftheirsmallsuccess.

Outfromundertheroofwerethelorries(camion)andvansoftheitinerantprofessionalswhospenttheirlivesdrivingmarkettomarket,shoppingfish(poisson),meat(viande),oysters(huitres),olives(olives),cheeses(fromages),herbs(herbes),flowers(fleurs),chicken(poulet),duck(canard),aswellasfruits(fruits)andvegetables(legumes)sofreshthescentsalonemadeourmouthswater.

Intimewecametohaveourfavoritevendors.Therewasoneolivesellerwhoneverfailedtounloadonustwicewhatweneededorwanted.Hehadsuchflairandaboyish,devilishsmile,wecouldn’tresist.Heintroducedustoregionaltasteswe’dotherwiseneverhaveknown,sowhattheheck.Ialsogotalongwithabutcher,alargebriskcharacterwho’dwinkatmyfeignedmilitarysaluteasI’dbarkmyorder

characterwho’dwinkatmyfeignedmilitarysaluteasI’dbarkmyorderinmockresponsetohissoldierlyparadingupanddownbehindhiscounter.Hisprotrudingchin,mustache,andgrand-elegantGallicnosewasraisedhighasiftodistancethewondrousdevicefrompossibledamagecausedbytheodorofplebeianshopperspressingagainsthiscases.

BINGCOULDnevergetpastanherblady’scaravanofspices,potions,andpotpourrisofscentsextraordinaire.ThewomancouldhavebeenoffthesetofLesMiserables.Oncebeautiful,nowatleastattractive,withaharried,almostwolfishelegance,shemovedrestlesslybackandforthbehindhertrays.Eyesdarting,longfingersflashingtosnatchandbagtheitemsindicatedbeforeacustomercouldchangehermind.Theladywasaproinahardlineofwork.YetwhenBingstoodathercounter,sheslowedtohelpwithasisterlyair.Herdaywasshort,itsprofitwindowsmall,butshe’dslowherpaceforl’Americaine,gentlysmilingassheusedsimplerwordstoexplainaproduct’svalue.I’dwatchtheprocess,creatingstoriesinmymindofhersecretpast—carryingcontrabandthroughBasquemountainpasses;along-agoloverwithhisyachtanchorednearMonaco;thepilotwhohadlefther;thedaughterwho’ddiedinherarms…Myguttoldmeherlifehadbeenfilledwithwrenchingtragedy.HadIaswordI’dhavedrawnitonherbehalf.

ThemarketplazawasringedwithregularshopswhoseonlypartinSaturdaymorning’seventswastoputtablesofsaleitemsinfrontoftheirwindows.Butoutsidethatcentralsquare,afewblocksbeyondwheretheoldwallshadoncebeen,largercaravans,flatbeds,andside-openinglorriesalignedthemselvesendtoend,displayingtheirshoes,clothing,tools,glassware,bedding,books,curtains,tablecloths,

clothing,tools,glassware,bedding,books,curtains,tablecloths,everythingforhouse,body,ormind.Extraordinaryofferings.Greatwalks.Funshopping.

OurfirstmarketdayhadbeenwarmandledtoaMontagneNoirehike,completewithaknapsackofcheese,freshbread,olives,apples,750cc’sofTarnValleywine,andacoupleofchunksofawesomenut-filledchocolate—aulaitforme,noireforBing.

Fromthevillage,LaMontagneNoireitselflookedabitwimpy,consideringourAppalachianandRockyMountainroots.Oncewestarteduptheoldcarttracks,however,ourrespectgrew.Steeperandsteeperthedoublerutspitchedtilltheywhisperedofftolittlemorethanagrassypathofslipperyswitchbacks.Abouthalfwaytothetopwepassedsomeruins,whatlookedtohavebeenaclusterofhouses,perhapsatinyvillage,centuriesold.Sadly,nowtheonlyremainswereaclusterofrooflesswalls,emptydoorways,hauntingwindowopeningschokedwithvines,treelimbsgrowingthroughthem.

Thehighreachesoftheridgehadseveralpeaks.Thefirstwasedgedwithacliffthatplungedtotheneighboringvillageofcopperandbrassshopsbelow.Overthenextcrestwasacave,reputedtohavebeenahidingplaceforPartisansfightingtheNazisinWorldWarII.Welatersawconfirmationoftheirresistanceetchedonthetownhallwallsofseveralnearbyvillages—weatheredlistsofnames,eachwithitsspecificfate—incarceration,torture,executionbyfiringsquad,ordeportationtodeathcamps.Nazis’listsmeanttointimidateandterrify.History’sliststoidentifyandglorify.

FurtheralongourpathweretracesofRomanandVisigothhamlets.WelaterlearnedthatmuchofBlackMountain’sbuildingstonecamefromtheseruins,rolleddowntothevillagefromaboveandusedagain

fromtheseruins,rolleddowntothevillagefromaboveandusedagaintorebuildtheabbeytower,townwalls,andbridges.

Despitethecalendarsayingitwaswinter,thebrightsunwascallingforspring.Takingadvantageofthesuddenwarmeth,BingandIspreadaclothonthehighestoutcropping,settlingdownforabite,torelax,perhapsevensnooze.Theviewsweremarvelous.Thevastexpanseoffieldstothenorthwiththeirsprinklingofchâteaux-toppedhillocksmadeoureyesdance.Anotherridgetothewestofferedasun-sparkledlake,man-madewelaterlearned,builtinthelate1600stofeedwatertotheCanalduMidi.Southwestofthat,thePyreneesroselikeawallofwhite,whiletotheeast,vastforestsswepttothehighMassifCentral.Fromoursmallperch,thevieweastwardwithitsforestedridgeswaswilderthanwehadexpected,surprisinglylikethatofmybelovedVermont.

Thefood,wine,andwarmthbroughtonadrowsinessrelievedonlybythesurprisingeventtakingshapebelow,downtheridge,starklyvisibleoverBing’sshoulder.Ehbien,beforemyinquiringeyesIwaswitnessingexplicitconfirmationofAmerica’sideaofFrance’ssexualliberation.Twootherhikers,amanandawoman,hadtoppedthelowercrest.Theywereathletic,withtannedlegsandarms,eachwearingkhakishorts,despitethechill,andwhiteteeshirts…butonlybriefly.BeforeIcouldsay“Frenchkiss”thetwostrippedtothebuff,fellintoeachother’sarms,andstartedgettingiton!

Whattodo?Forthesakeofpropriety,BingandIelectedtowaitabitbeforewestarteddown.Neitherofusfeltwehadthelanguageskillstodealwithtwopeoplesoaggressivelynaked.EveninEnglishwe’dhavebeenchallenged.Whatwouldbeappropriate?

“Niceday,nipplestoo.”Or,“Gotanameforthebigfella?”Maybe,

“Niceday,nipplestoo.”Or,“Gotanameforthebigfella?”Maybe,“Whichwaytothemonastery?”Thenagain,justaRockyMountain“Hi!”probablywouldhavebeenenough.

SEVENTHEKNOCKONTHEDOOR

ASCONCERNEDaswe’dfirstbeenwithtelephonecalls,thethreatofsomeoneknockingonourdoortookonanevenmorefrighteninglifeofitsown.Iwastheoneworkingdownstairs,atthetableinthekitchenwithitsviewofthetinycourtyard.Thatmeantifwedidgetaknock,Iwouldhavetodealwithit.Eachdaymyparanoiagrew.WhatwouldIdowhenithappened?Nequitterpashadworkedwiththephone.HowaboutthelineIrecalledfromanoldlovesong,allezvous-en(goaway),wouldthatwork?Itseemedtomakesense,butagain,slammingthedoorinsomeone’sfacecouldbeinterpretedasabitharsh.Ihadtothinkofsomething.Theknockwouldcome.

Ipreparedlikemodernathletesdo.Itriedmentallywalkingmyselfthroughtheevent,stepbystep.Iconceptualized.First—theknock.Okay,openthedoor.DoIpeekarounditorpullthesuckeropenwidelikeaman?DoIsaybonjour,orstandsilent?But,andabigbutatthat,no

matterhoworwhatIdid,therewouldbesomeonestandingtherewaitingtosaysomethingtome,somethingIprobablywouldnotunderstandatall.

Andthedaydidcome,onaThursdaymorning.

KNOCK!KNOCK!

Panic!Iwasinfrontofmycomputer,frozen,cursorflashing,jawslammedshut.Ihadtogetagrip.Okay,I’drunthisthroughmymindamilliontimes.Nowitwasjustamatterofdoingit.

Igottomyfeet.KNOCK.Istoodstraightandtookastep.KNOCK.Severalmoresteps…tothedoor;whereIpausedtocollectmyself.Yes.Ireachedforthedoorknob.Whatnext?Thingsweremovingtoofast.ButIwasamanofaction,damnit.FirmlyIswungthedoorfullyopen(nowimpyhalf-shit),toseetwopeople,amanandawoman,standing,abitwide-eyed,staringatme.Nowwhat?

Itried“Bonjour,”keepingouiinreserve.

“Bonjour,Monsieur.Jem’appelleJean-JacquesKurtz.MafemmeLailaetmoisouhaitonsvousaccueilliràlaMontagneNoire.”

Nottobeintimidatedbywhateverthehellhadbeensaid,I…ah,stoodmyground.Insilence.Mouthslightlyagape.

Then,fromthemouthofanangel,came“WouldEnglishbebetter?”

ThankyouGod.

“Oui,”Ioffered,ahairoutofsync.

“Haveyoubeenherelong,inthevillageImean?”themanaskedwithasmileandarathercharminglyelevatedlefteyebrow.

“Ah,yes.Perhaps,no,”Istumbled.Whatwasthematterwithme?“Imean,mywifeBing,whoisanartistandisupstairsworkinginher

studiorightnow,andI…Iamawriter…wearrivedacoupleofweeksago.”WhydidIhavetogivesodamnedmuchinformation?WhydoweAmericanstelltoomuchaboutourselvestoanyonewhowilllisten?

“Ifyouhaveamoment,”hesaidwithasmile,“LailaandIwouldliketospeakwithyouabouttheBible.”

ThoughBingandIwereactiveinourchurchathome,myfirstreactiontoJean-Jacques’announcementwasanon-Biblical,“Ohshit.”Iadmitthatseemedsomewhatjudgmental,butreligiousdoor-knockersmakemenervous.Andnow,hereinourlittleFrenchhideaway,apairofthemhadsniffedusout.Evenworse,otherthanPierreandMarie-Claude,andAdrianonthebarge,theyweretheonlypeoplewe’dmetwhospokeEnglishanddidn’tjustpointatpagesinabook.Ifelttrapped,butsteppedasideanyway.Fumblingabit,IgotthemtothesofaandcalleduptoBingtocomemeetourvisitors.

Englisheasedthewayforusall.BingandIexplainedthatwehadreasonablescripturalbackgroundsandcamefromtraditionsoftolerance.Interestingly,notlongafterthat,Jean-JacquesandLailamovedtheconversationfromtheirdoor-to-doorministrytohowwefeltaboutthevillage.

“It’swonderful,”Bingsaid.“Thepeoplearesoopenandhelpful.WegetalltangledupwithourFrench,buttheyonlychuckleastheytrytountietheknots.”

“I’veneverhadtoomuchtroubleinFrance,eveninParis,”Iadded,fibbinghorribly.“Iworkhardonpronunciation.There’sanoldwives’tailthatsaysyoufolksdon’tcarewhatsomebodysaysordoes,justhowtheypronounceit.ThebrutalAmericanaccentisaproblemforParisianears.Avoidingitseemstomakeadifference.”

ears.Avoidingitseemstomakeadifference.”

Jean-JacquesnoddedandLailasmiled.HisaccentsaidhewasFrench,whileLailalookedvaguelyMiddleEastern.WhenshespokeFrench,however,shesoundedratherAmerican.Great.

WeweredelightedtheKurtzeshadfoundus.Oncecomfortableinourlivingroom,theywerechattyandfun.BythetimeJean-JacquesandLailagotuptoleave,weknewquiteabitaboutthemtoo.HewasfromnortheasternFrance,ontheGermanboarder.LailawasoriginallyfromIraq,ofallplaces.ShewasbornaMuslimbutwasintroducedtoChristianitybyaBibleshefoundonanairplane.She’dreaditseveraltimes.Whenherfamilylearnedofthisherfatherwassoupsethedemandedsherepentpubliclyorfaceareligioustrialthatcouldhaveledtoherdeath.Sheranaway.FirsttoAmerica,whereshewashunteddownandgivenawarningbyherbrother,thentoEngland,andfinallytoFrance,whereshemetandmarriedJean-Jacques.Jean-Jacquestoldushe’dspentayearinprisonasaconscientiousobjector.TheywerebothcommittedJehovah’sWitnesses.

Theirstoriesweregrippingstuff.BingandIwerefascinated.WewereeagertoknowJean-JacquesandLailaKurtzbetter.Theypromisedthey’dhaveustotheirhomefordinner.Weweredelightedandlookedforwardtoit.

EIGHTFROMFLOWERSTOFIRES

THENEXTSaturdayweweresurprisedtobumpintoJean-JacquesandLailaatthefarmers’market.TakingadvantageoftheirEnglish,wetoldthemaboutAdrianandhissituation.Wehadn’tgottencallbacksfromthemessagesweleftonAdrian’smachine,soweassumedhehadn’tfoundhisson.Wewereworried.Jean-JacquesandLailaunderstoodbutexplainedthatevenifwetracedhiswifeanddaughtertoahospital,notbeingfamily,theywouldn’tgiveusanyinformationorletustalktothem.Itwasfrustrating,butasJean-Jacquessaid,“Youcanonlydowhatyoucando.”

AftersayinggoodbyeandhavingthemtaketheirEnglishawaywiththem,IfellbackintomydiscouragingstrugglewithFrench.

“Kenny,themainthingiswearetrying.Peoplehereappreciatethat.”

“Easyforyoutosay,”Isaid.“You’realotbetteratunderstandingwhat’sgoingonthanIam.”

“Thatneverstopsyoufromspeakingyourmind,”shesaid.“Sometimesthoughyoucomeupwithanswersthathavenothingtodowiththequestions.You’relikepoliticiansonTV.Toheckwiththequestion,here’swhatI’mgoingtosay.Butyousoundgood.Youraccent,andsometimeseventhegrammar.Youronlyproblemis…content.”

“Thankyouforyoursupport,”Isaidwithanedgeofirritation.

“Ohcomeon,”Bingchided,bumpingmewithherhip.“Igetsonervoustryingtospeak,sometimesIjustgiveup.Maybewe’retheperfectteam.Ireceive,youtransmit.”

“Whatever,”Isaid,leavingitatthat.

Everydaywedidimprovealittle.Athomewehadtapesandwhereverwewentwecarriedourtrustydictionaries.IhadaHugopocketjob.MichelatLaBrasseriewonderedifitwasoneofChairmanMao’slittleredbooksbecauseitwasquitesmallandred.ClaudeattheCafédesFleurs,aconfirmedTrotskyite,assumeditwasandthoughtbetterofmeforit.

ThenextMonday,moreEnglishspeakersenteredourlives.Hallelujah!We’dcomeoutourfrontdoorjustbeforenoonandfoundtwopeoplestandingonthesidewalkasifthey’dbeenwaitingforustoappear.Thefirsttospeak,andhappilyinEnglish,wasawomanwhointroducedherselfasTrakya.WelaterlearnedshewasTurkish,butwithherblueeyesandstreakybrownhair,weweresurprised.Withhersupercomplexionandpetitbutveryfemininefigure,shewasanunusuallyprettyyounglady.WenotedthatherEnglishwasprettygoodassheintroducedAnton,herstiff-appearinghusband.

“Ahhah,Anton,”Bingnodded,hereyesrollinginmydirectiontosee

ifI’dpickeduponthename.

AtfirstIlookedbackatherquizzically,thenIsaid,smiling,“Anton,youarethemanwhoknowseverythingandcandoeverything.”

“IamAustrian,”hereplied.

Binghadtoturnawaytohideheramusement.

“Ofcourse,”Isaid,causingBing’sshoulderstoshakeevenharder.

“Trakya,”Bingrecovered,“BrietoldusaboutyouandAntonwhenwefirstarrived.Ithinkwehavethingsprettywellsortedoutsofar.Kenreplacedoneofthegastanks.Otherwisewe’vehadnoproblems.”

“Youwill,”Antonsaidwithoutelaboration.Oddduck,Ithought.

“Ifyoudon’tmind,”Bingsaid,goingtoherpurseandpullingouthernotepadandtinyblackpen,“couldwehaveyourtelephonenumberincasesomethingdoescomeup?”

“0573631621,”Antonreplied,efficientlybutwithoutmuchpoetry.

“Wecametoinviteyoutoourhousefordinner,”Trakyasaid,headdownbutlookingupintoourfaces.Shewasverycharminginaschoolgirlway.

“Tomorrow,”Antonchimedin.

“Seveno’clock,ifyoucan,”Trakyaadded.

“Thatwouldbewonderful,”Bingsaid.“Whatcanwebringandwhereisyourhouse?”

“Pasttheabbey.Smallbridge.Endofroad,”Antonexplained.

Wow,Ithought,tomorrownightshouldbechock-a-blockfullofscintillatingconversationwiththisguy.

“Whatcanwebring?”Bingrepeated.

“Wehaveeverythingweneed,”Trakyasaid.“Justhavingyouvisitwillbewonderful.”

willbewonderful.”

“Youareverykind,”Bingsaid.“Welookforwardtotomorrownight.”

Thenexteveningwesetoutfortheirplaceatsix-thirty.Wedidn’tknowhowlongthewalkwouldtakeandwedidn’twanttobelate,notyetattunedtothegeneralFrenchpropensityforbeinglate.Then,aswepassedtheAbbeyandcrossedthesmallbridgeAntonhadmentioned,Bingputherhandonmyarmandpulledmetoastop.

“Wedon’thaveagift,”shesaid.“Iforgottogetsomething.”

“Trakyasaidwedidn’tneedtobringanything.”

“That’snottheissue.Wehavetobringsomething.It’sdisrespectfulnotto.”

“Bing,please,Trakyawasveryspecificaboutit.Maybehereitwouldbedisrespectfulignoringwhatshesaid.Besides,it’squartertoseven.Whatcouldwefindnow?Andevenifwedidfindsomethingsomewhere,we’dprobablybelategettingtotheirhouse,”Isaid,wrappingmyselfinreasonableness.

“IamwalkingbacktoSylvie’sgroceryforsomeflowers.Yougoon.”

“Ohcomeon,Bing,thatwouldberidiculous.YougoonandI’llgofortheflowers.”

“Iknowflowers,”shesaid,turningandstridingbackacrossthebridge.

Damn.Bingcouldbetough.Sweettoo.Butstill,tough.

Ifellinbehind,irritated.Aswetrudgedalong,retracingourstepsbackpastLaBrasserieandondownrueBasque,itoccurredtomethatBinghadcomeintomylifelittlemorethantwoyearsearlier.Nowweweremarriedandstillcopingwithleftovers—Bobbye’sdeathandBing’s

divorce,allthecompanybankruptciesI’dweathered,long-termfailureasawriter,sellingourrespectivehomes.Whileour“new”livesmoveon,westillfeelanddealwithourpasts,evenasnewpressuresareadded.Andontopofallthat,wehadAdrian’sproblemsandthiswholelanguageexercise.Onanybody’sstressmeter,wewereprobablytoppingout.Butweweredoingwell.Onlyafewrubshereandthere,likeforgettingsomethingatthelastminuteandreversingcourse.OhhowIhatedhavingtoturnaround.Itwasprobablyapilotthing.Aftertakeoff,youflytoyourdestination.Period.

Ipaidfortheflowers,butthatdidn’tqualifymetocarrythem.Iwasgettingmoreirritated.Itriedtothinkaboutsomethingelseaswere-retracedourstepspastLaBrasserie,overthebridgeforthethirdtime,andfinallyupthedirtlanetoTrakyaandAnton’sstonefarmhouse.

“Nowwearelate,”Isaid,knowingIshouldhaveletitgo.

“Kenny,you’regettingparanoid.Relax,”shesaid.“Wearen’tinNewYorkCity.”

Ihatetohear“relax,”butImanagedtokeepmymouthshut.

Whenwegottothedooritwasclearnobodywasworryingabouttheclock.Severalguestswerealreadythere,butacoupleofcarswerecomingupthelaneaswerangthebell.OnlythendidBinghandmetheflowers.

“It’stheman’sjob,”shehalfwhisperedasTrakyaappearedsmilingandpresentedbothhercheeksfortheFrenchhello.

“Twotouches,”shebubbled.“InMazamettheydoublethat.Fourforeachhello.IwenttoaweddingtherelastyearandIthoughtitwouldtakeallnighttogetthroughthereceptionline.”

Nodding,Iheldouttheflowers.

Nodding,Iheldouttheflowers.

“No,no,no,Bing.Isaidnogifts…buttheyareverypretty.Thankyou.Iwillputtheminavaseonthediningroomtable,”shesaid,hereyeswanderingtotheotherguestscomingdownthepathfromtheircars.Sheleftmeholdingthebouquet.

“I’lldothatforyou,”BingsaidtoTrakya,takingtheflowersbackfromme.Ifeltvaguelyrobotic.

DuckingintothelivingroombehindBing,thefirstthingthatstruckmewastherushofdifferentlanguagescomingatus.FirstGerman,fromtheirdaughterandAnton.ThenshespokeFrenchtosomeotherkids,followedbyEnglishtous.Bythen,AntonwaschattinginPolishtoanewlyarrivedyoungmanfromWarsaw,thenswitchingtoTurkishwithhismother-in-law,andbacktoGermanwithhisdaughter.AnothercouplechattedinwhatsoundedlikeGermanbutwelearnedwasDutch.IfeltlikethevillageidiotgazingupinwonderattheTowerofBabel.Butthistowerworked.Despiteallthelanguages,Ifoundthatlaughs,gestures,evenhandsignalshelpedbridgethegaps.Itturnedouttobeanextraordinaryevening,especiallyforBingandme.Greatfood,deliciouswines,openhearts.Eventhougheverythingarounduswassodifferent,weactuallyfeltwarmandathome.

SOONAFTERthatparty,PierreandMarie-ClaudecalledfromParistosaytheyweredrivingdowntovisittheirsonandhisfamilyinToulouse.TheywantedtospendafewdaysinBlackMountainwithus,ifpossible,toseehowwewereholdingup.Weweredelighted.Buttheirstaywouldhaveitsdarksidetoo.TheyannouncedtheywouldspeakasmuchFrenchwithusaswecouldhandle.“Toughlove,”theyexplained.Theideawastogetusuptospeedwiththelanguageasquicklyaspossible

forwhateverplanswemighthaveforthefuture.

Thentheweatherturnedreallycold.BeforeleavingConnecticutwe’dbeentoldBlackMountainhaddependablymildwinters.Hah.

Themorningoftheirarrivalwewokeuptofrostonourwindows,insideandout.Andsnowonthehighridgesbehindthevillage.Withnocentralheatingor,forthatmatter,nothingbuttheonekitchenfireplace,wecouldbeinfortrouble.Inthebedrooms,blanketsandheavy-dutysnugglingwouldbetherule.Thekitchenfireplacecouldhandlepartofthedownstairs,butwhataboutthethirdfloorandtherestofthehouse?Ifiguredwe’dhavetogiveallthefireplacesashotifthecoldsnapdidn’tletup.Therewasnowaywecouldhaveguestsinameatlockerlikethis.

Throughoutthemorningthetemperaturecontinuedtodrop.ThesnowworkeditswayfromthehillsdowntorueBasque.Whatlittlewoodwehadhadwasnowgone.Whoeverthoughtspringwouldbewinter?We’dhavetogetholdofAnton.Afteranicybreakfast,BingandIhustledbacktohishousetobuyaload.

InYogiBerraFrench,thewholeprocessbecamedéjàvualloveragain.Wehadn’tnoticeditthenightbefore,butneartheirsmallbarnwasalongstackofmoss-coveredgnarlywood.AsIstartedtoparkthecarclearofAnton’strailer,Binghoppedouttoopennegotiationswithoutme.Iwasalittlesurprised.BythetimeIwasoutofthecar,BingwasalreadyhandingAntonabunchoffrancs.

“We’reallset,Kenny.Antonwillhookuphistrailer,thenwecanloadacord,”shesaid,takingcharge,givingmyfeathersaruffle.Ididn’tsayanything,juststoodwatchingwhilesheguidedAntonashebackeduptothewood.Then,beforeIcouldgetmyselfintogear,shewasthrowingwoodintothetrailer,withoutgloves.AllIcoulddowasrollmyeyesand

woodintothetrailer,withoutgloves.AllIcoulddowasrollmyeyesandpitchinbyherside.

Withthethreeofusworking,thejobwasfinishedinminutes.WedrovethetwocarsbacktorueBasque.BingrodewithAnton.Hmm.

Whiletheycarriedthewoodthroughourhouseatnumber10andstackeditinthebackcourtyard,Istartedbuildingafireinthekitchenfireplace.ThenBingwalkedAntontothedoorandwavedgoodbye.

“I’vehadit,”Iannounced,puttingmoreintothestatementthanBingprobablyunderstood.“We’vegottogetheatintotherestofthehouse.PierreandMarie-Claudeareontheirway.Iciclesonthebedboardsareunacceptable.Theycan’tsleepinthekitchen.I’mfiringupallthefireplaces.”

“Kenny,please.YouknowwhatBriesaidaboutnotusingtheotherfireplaces,”Binganswered.

“Screwit,”Isaid,“weneedheat.”

Ipiledastackofwoodonthelivingroomhearth,builtaBoyScout’steepeeoffaggotsoveroldnewspaperdirectlyundertheflu.Therewasagooddraft.Wewouldhaveagoodfire.Settingatrustyallumettetotheteepee,Ismiledasitcaught.Fingersofflameranupthekindling.Iaddedhandfulsoftwigstohelpthefiregrow.Inshortorderwehadarealblaze.Americaningenuityatwork.

Rising,chestpuffingabit,IsmiledcondescendinglytoBingonthesofa.

“How’sthat?”Ripplesofwarmthwerealreadyspreadingacrossthechillytilefloortowardherslipperedfeet.

“Sofarsogood,”shesaidasIpiledafewmediumsizedlogsonmyrisinginferno.Theheatwasgreat.Straighteningoutanastysituationwasgreat.Ifeltgreat.Yes,Iwasbackinfamiliarterritory,gettingthe

wasgreat.Ifeltgreat.Yes,Iwasbackinfamiliarterritory,gettingthejobdone.Manstuff.

“Don’tusetheotherfireplaces,hah,”Ichortled,brushingthewoodfragmentsoffmyshirt.“ThewholehouseisgoingtobewarmastoastbythetimePierreandMarie-Claudegethere.”

“Let’shope.”

“Hey,givemeabreak.IknowwhatI’mdoing,”Isaid,takingmorewoodtothestairwaytofireupthebedrooms.

ITTOOKaboutanhourfortheexcitementtobegin.Weheardloudwheewhaa,wheewhaas,firstinthedistance,thencloserandcloseryet.Finallytherewasalotofdieselclatteronthestreetoutside.Ithoughtitmightbethedeliverytruckfortheminimarketupbythefountain.Damn,whatdaywasit?Hadweleftthetopshuttersopen?Peekingthroughthefrontcurtains,allIcouldseewasawallofred.Whatthehell?

“Bing,somethingbigisgoingonouthere.Cometakealook,”Isaid,curiousandatouchexcited.

Sheslip-sloppedinherfuzzyslipperstomysideatthewindow,butcouldn’tmakeoutmuchmorethanwhatIhad.Ireachedoverandopenedthedoor.Webothsteppedout.

Thewallofredwasactuallythesideofahugevoituredespompiers(afireengine)fillingthestreetwithateamoffiremenbusyingthemselvesopeningpanels,pullingonhoses,blowingwhistles,andpeeringupthroughthethicklayerofsmokehangingoverrueBasque.BingandIlookedup.Wow.Smokewasrollingoutofourneighbor’ssecond-floorwindows…andfromthespacesbetweenourshutterstoo.I’dbeenreadytosaysomethingsmartlike,“Thatturkeysuredidn’tknowhowto

managehisfire,”butseeingthesmokecomingfromourwindowstoo,Iamendeditto“Ohshit.”

Werushedbackinsideandupthestairs.Thefireinthebedroomfireplacewasjustgettingunderway,itssmokegoinguptheflue(likegoodsmokeshould);buttherewasalsosomeseepingfrombelowthroughthehearth(badsmoke).Theflufromthelivingroommusthavebreaksthatletsmokecrawlunderthebedroomfloor,upthroughthishearth,andintotheneighbor’sapartment.Thebedroomfireplacewasprobablydoingmuchthesametothefloorabove.Ohman,whyhadn’tIpaidattentiontowhatBriehadsaid?OrevenheardthequestioninginBing’svoicewhenIspoutedoffaboutwarmingthehouse?

Wettowelsfromthebathroomstoppedtheflowintoourbedroom.Weeachthrewwindowsopen,thenrusheddownstairstothekitchen.Binggrabbedtwometalspatulasandahugeroastingpan.Isnatchedupthedustpanandapailfromtheclosetwherethepropanetankslived.ShechargedbackupstairswhileIrantothelivingroomfireplaceandstartedshovelingthesmallerburningstuffintothepail.IassumedBingwasdoingthesameabove.Ispedbacktothekitchenandthrewmypailofembersintotheonegoodfireplacethere.

Tothelivingroomagainforthepartiallyburnedlogs.InearlyknockedBingoverasshecameflyingdownthestairswiththeroastingpanfullofsmolderingembersalsoboundforthekitchen.Whatadrill.Wewerebothsweatyandpuffing.Theonlydifferenceinourdemeanorswastheexpressiononherfacethatshouted,“J’accuse,”whileminemuttered,“Guiltyascharged.”

Nowthatthesourceoftheproblem(bythatImeanthecombustiblesource,notthehumansource)hadbeenidentified,removed,and

allowedourbreathingtoreturntonormal,wewalkedintothestreettoseewherethingsstoodwiththefiredepartmentandtheneighbor’shouse—whichwasstillgivingouttheoddwispofsmoke,thoughnotbelchinglikebefore.Thefiremen,apparentlyusedtothesesituationsinancienthouses,weredealingwiththingscomfortablyandsystematically.They’dgoneintoourplaceaswecameout,andintonextdoortoo.Fortunatelytheydidn’thavetousehosesineither,andoncethey’dmadearunthrough,checkingthatnothingmorewasburninginouroffendingfireplaces,wordseemedtopassinthestreetthatlesAmericanswerenolongerathreattoBlackMountain—nor,forthatmatter,tothemselves.

Thenextbitofgoodnewswasthatwegottomeetourneighbor.Youmightsaywe’dsmokedhimout.Hislooksgavemeascare.Asthingscalmeddownandthefiremenwereexitinghisplace,hewasbeingassistedbythelasttwo.Hewasanoldfellow,hunchedoverandunsteadyonhisfeet.Hisfacewascoveredwithsoot;onerheumyeyelookingquestioninglyaboutwhiletheotherwasclosedtight.Hisjawwasscrunchedagainsthisleftshoulderlikeheexpectedapunchwascominghisway.WhichmademefeelevenworseforwhatI’ddone.And,beinganAmerican,Iprayedtheoldgentlemanwasnotalawyer.

Surprisingly,nobodyelseseemedtopayhisappearanceanyattention.NordidheactparticularlytroubledbytheeventswhenIwalkedovertohimandofferedmyhandandmyapology.Hedidn’tresistthehandshake,noddedtomy“Jesuistrèsdésolé,”theneasedhimselffreeofmeandthefiremen,gaveaperfunctorywaveofthehand,andsetoffdownthestreettotheClaude’scafé.

Astheprimeperpetratoroftheseevents,Ifeltobligatedtothankthe

firemenfortheirhelp,thevillagefornotlynchingme,Bingfornotleavingme,andourneighborfornothavingthepolicehaulmeofftotheBastille.Ofcourse,tryingtodealwithsomuchguiltinaforeignlanguagemadeitallthemoredaunting.AsbestIcould,Iexplainedtothepompiersthatourson-in-lawisafiremaninVermont,oneofourstates,withFrenchroots.Theywarmedtothis,butdeclinedmyofferedofpastis,theharddrinker’schoice,inhonorofourcommonbond.Theyhadtogettheirequipmentbacktothefirehouse.

Thechiefsmiledwitha“peut-êtrelaprochainefois”(maybenexttime),asheclimbedupintothecabofthehugeredtruck.

Anton,havingfollowedthesirens,wasnowbymyside.He’dalreadybeenbriefedaboutthesituationbythefiremenandpassedtheirdirectivesontome.HeaskedmeifIunderstoodeverything.

“Oui,”Iansweredfirmly.

WasIsure?

“Oui.”

Anyquestions?

“Oui,Imeanno.Honest,trustme.Igotitall,Anton,”Isaidadamantly.“TellthenicemanIunderstandeverythingandwillneverdosuchastupidthingagain.”

“Yes,Iwilltellhimofyourregret,butIwillnotusethewordforstupid.Frenchmenneveradmittosuchthings.Trustme.”

“Goodidea.Thankyou.Oui.”

Whenallwassaidanddone,we’ddodgedonebullet,butanotherwasstillheadedourway.HowtokeepPierreandMarie-Claudefromfreezingtodeathduringtheirstay?Whattodo?ThenTrakyashowedupwiththeanswer.Shedroppedoffblankets,glovesandscarves,andtwo

withtheanswer.Shedroppedoffblankets,glovesandscarves,andtwoelectricspaceheaters!GodblessfriendswhoreallydidknowhowcolditcouldgetinBlackMountain,eveninthewinter.

INLINGUISTICself-defense,we’dinvitedJean-JacquesandLailatojoinwithusandPierreandMarie-Claudefordinner.LailaspokeevenlessFrenchthanwedid,itturnedout,sotheeveningwouldhavetobeinEnglish.Yeah!Wehadbeenrunningintothemoccasionally,havinggoodchatsandlaughsovercoffeeatCafédesFleursoraglassofwineatourplaceortheirs.Oddlyenough,weneverseemedtogetbacktodiscussingtheBible.

Overaperitifsandascrumptiousdinnerservedinthetoastykitchen,PierrewentonatlengthaboutFrance’sarchaicprisonsystemandhow,inretirement,hewasinvolvedwithtryingtoreformit.Hetoldusofthemen,theprisoners,he’dworkedwithwhohadcomeoutofthemostdestituteslumsasstreetkids;noparents,noschoolingbeyondthatofthosestreets,andthehorrendouscrimessuchupbringingoftenledto.Hetoldhowhe’dhelpedstartin-prisonschooling,counseling,religiousstudies,anynumberofprogramsdesignedtoturnthingsaround.

ThenJean-Jacquestoldthemofhisexperienceinprisonasaconscientiousobjector,overFrance’sAlgerianwar.HeaffirmedallPierresaid.

AsBingandIclearedthetableandthelastofthedigestifwassipped,ourconversationmovedtotheissueofJean-JacquesandLaila’schurchbeingoneofthosedesignatedacultbytheFrenchgovernment.Hugetaxescouldbeleviedagainstthem.Andforthosewhoalreadyhadprisonrecords,likeJean-Jacques,morejailtimecouldbeintheoffingif

hecouldn’tpaywhatwasdesignatedashisshareofthenewtaxesontheentirechurch.ItwaslikesomethingoutoftheMiddleAgesortheInquisition.

WhatBingandIfoundmostinterestinginallthiswashowsuchafree-rangingdiscussionofreligioncouldbesoopenandecumenical.Interestingly,Jean-Jacques,amanwhohadalreadybeensubjecttoreligiousoppression,concludedhispartinthediscussionwith,“IfeverIamwronginmyunderstandingofman’srelationshipwithGodandhowIshouldpursuemyfaith…Iwanttoknowit.AllIaskisforScripturetobelaidbeforemeshowingthattobethecase.”Astatementthatmonthslaterwouldplayalargepartinthedisintegrationofourfriendship.

Pierre,oneofthetwoCatholicsintheroom,concludedgentlywith,“TherearemanyroadsleadingtoGod’skingdom.Itisnotimportantwhichwetake;itisonlythattheroadwedochooseisonethatactuallyleadsthere…andwewalkitwithgrace.”

Bing,withherQuakerroots,added,“Weholdtheeinthelight.”

Allthingsconsidered,itcouldhavebeenaverycoldeveningindeed.Notjustfromthenight’schill,butfromthedivergenceofbackgroundseachofusbroughttothetable.Yetitdidn’tworkoutthatway.Ithoughtsomeprofoundthingshadbeensaid.Jean-JacquesandPierrebothseemeddirectlyengagedinlife’schallenges,notjustobserversonthesidelines.Andtheirwiveswerewiththemalltheway.

Thinkingbackonit,withBing’sfood,thatonewarmhearth,andgoodcheerinallourhearts,theeveningcouldn’thavegonebetter…despitehowithadbegun.

Asthecandlesburneddown,Bingconcludedtheeveningwitha

smiling“Bonnenuit.”

Ireachedacrossthetableforherhand.Iwassogratefulshewasinmylife.

NINEBKEBISANDFKAMBOISE

THENEXTday,Pierre,Marie-Claude,Bing,andIdroveupandacrossLaMontagneNoiretothesouthwesterntoeofthesix-thousand-footcraggyplateauknownastheMassifCentral.We’dhadinmindtoexploreabit,aswellastrytolocatethefarmsupplyingaspecialbrebis(sheepcheese)we’dfoundatthemarchéthepreviousSaturday.

Overbreakfastwetoldourfriendsaboutaparticularfarmersellingthecheese.Quitethefellow.Tall,mustached,hazel-eyed,helookedstraightoutofaHollywoodstudio.Seriously.He’dwornablackwoolencapeandamatchingchapeaugaucholaine,afloppy-brimmedcowboyhatmadeofwool.Helookedveryfit,trèschic.Whichdidn’thurthisbusinessany.Thefewkilosofbrebishe’dstackedonhiswobblycardtablehadgonequicklyasasteadystreamofyoungerwomenstoppedtoaddhisproducttotheirbaskets.

“Thisguycouldhavebeend’ArtagnanwiththeThreeMusketeers,”Imumbled,“andhepaidalotofattentiontoBing.Ididn’tunderstand

mumbled,“andhepaidalotofattentiontoBing.Ididn’tunderstandmuchofwhatcameoutofhismouth,buthesaidalotwithhiseyes.Hewasreallycheckingherout.”

“OhKenny,”Bingsaid,pouringMarie-ClaudeandPierremoreteaandrollingherbeautifulblueeyes.

“Hecouldn’tgethisbusinesscardintoyourhandfastenough,”Iadded.“Andhemadedarnsureyouturneditovertoseethemaptohisplaceontheback.Hewantedyoutovisithim…andmetovisitthesheepandgoats.”

“You’reprobablyright,”Bingsaid,fluffingherhair.“Hewascute,Marie-Claude.Ithinkhe’swortharideupontothemountain.”

Ourdrivewaseye-opening.We’dhadnoideathemountainwassohigh,ortheMassifCentralsomuchhigherstill.Itwasheavilywooded.Twohundredyearsearlier,Pierretoldus,theregionhadbeenfarmorepopulated,butinthelastcenturyitlosthundredsofthousandsofpeopletothecitiesandtowar.Seeingsomuchofnaturespringingupwherepeopleandfarmshadoncebeengavemeaneeriesenseofaninexorablereturnofthewild.StevenKingstuff—theforestbeatendownbymanwascomingbacktoencircleandentrapthosewhohadtriedtokillit.

Bing’smapshowedthefarminthecenterofatriangleformedbythetownsofMazamet,Angles,andaplacenamedLaBastide.Bastides,bytheway,weretheproductoftwohundredyearsofwarbetweenEnglandandFrancethroughouttheregion.Townswouldbecreated,mostlylaidoutinblockformwithdefensivewallsaroundthem,andthenfriendlypopulationswouldbetransportedintofarmandformabaseofsupportfortheEnglishorFrencharmydominatingthearea.ThatexplainswhymanytotallyFrenchfamiliesboreEnglishnames.MichelBond,ownerof

LaBrasserieinBlackMountainwasacaseinpoint.Atmidday,stillbumpingalong,wesawasignforLaCuisinedeFerme,TheFarmKitchen,notourdestinationbutaplaceopenforlunchanddinner.Itseemedagoodideatostopforabite.Whyriskanencounterwiththehandsomecheesefellowandhisnannygoatsorblacksheeponemptystomachs?

Weturnedoffourlittleroadontooneevenlesstraveled.Jostlingoveritsgrassytraces,wewonderedhowanyonecouldrunabusinesssofarintonowhere.Finallywecaughtsightofsomesmokecurlingabovethenextrise.Toppingthat,wewererelievedtoseeastone-sided,slate-roofedgemofahousenestlednexttoapond.LaCuisinedeFerme.

Pierredidthetalking.MerciDieu.ButevenhehadtroublepenetratingthelocalaccentwithitsSpanishrootsandmetallictwangoftheTarn.Wewereshownintothediningroom,probablyalivingroomoriginally.Therewasonlyonepersonseatedthereatthemoment,astraight-lacedfellowsittingboltuprightwearingagraythree-piecesuitwithwhiteshirtandsoiledtie.Hisdowncasteyeswerebusyguidinghisknifeandforknoisilyaroundhisplate.TheclatterandthefocustoldmehewasBritish.(Myyearsasapilot,diningthroughouttheworld,gavemeafeelfornationaltypesattable.)CutleryinEnglishhandsisnoisy.Americanmouthsthesame.TheFrench,ontheotherhand,treatrestaurantswiththehushedrespectduelibrariesandcathedralseverywhereelse.

Takingachairnexttothewallatthefireplaceendoftheroom,Ifoundanotherguestwe’dfirstmissed.Wearingasmartlyappointedwhite(unstained)bib(suppliedbyMotherNature),busywithabreadcrust,wasaself-possessedmouse(unesouris).IknewMarie-Claudewasnotamouseperson,soIwascircumspectaboutthelittlefellow.He

seemedcontentandnotparticularlyinterestedinjoiningourtableanyway.

Afterordering,Marie-ClaudewenttotheWC.Aboutfiveminuteslatershereturnedwithabreathlessbitofnews.“Therewasamouseinthetoilette.Notinthewater,intheroom,”sheclarified.“WhileIwas…occupied,”shesaid,hervioleteyespoppingembarrassedlyupandaway.“Inoticedhimsittinglookingatme.HesatandIsat.Hewasn’tfrightenedintheleast,justinterested.EvenwhenIwenttothesinkhecontinuedtowatch.”

Iglanceddownathisfriendbythebaseboard.Helookedupwithwhatseemedanod,thenreturnedtohismunching.

Everyone’smealwaswonderful.Everyone’sbutmine.Thoughthefoiegraswassuperb,breadmagnificent,localrosélightanddelightful,mymaincoursewaslikeleather.Marie-ClaudeandPierrehadexcellentroastduck.BingandIhadwildhare.Sheenjoyedherlegandhaunchverymuch.Igotthebackorbutt.Icouldn’tsayforsurewhatpartitwas—unchewableandloadedwith,ofallthings,buckshot.

Thepropriétaire,averyinformalfellow,invitedhimselftositwithusforaglassofwine.Hesaidhissummercampsiterentalsdidverywellsincehiswastheonlyeatingplaceforkilometersaround.

“Asamatteroffact,”headded,noddingtowardtheotherdiner,“somesummerpeoplejuststayon.ThatfellowcameherefromSussexshiretwoyearsago.Hetoldmehewassocharmedbytheareahecouldn’tleave.Thinkofthat.”

WEFOUNDthecheesefarm,butwedidn’tfindd’Artagnan,onlyhislady.Andalotofladyshewas.Solidandstrong,prettymuchlikeaMaginot

Linecannon.Nowonderd’ArtagnanfoundBinginteresting.

Pierre’sParisianFrenchseemedamysterytoherandoflittleinterest.Sheturnedherbackonusandstrodeintothebarn.ShewasthefirstandperhapsonlypersonthroughoutourtimeintheLauragaiswhoblewusoff,butremember,thepersondoingourtalkingwasfromParis.

BackatBlackMountaintherewasanoteslippedunderourdoorfromJean-JacquesandLaila.TherehadbeenhorrendousmudslidesatCarcassonneandthey’dputtogetherateamoftheirchurchpeopletogohelp.Welaterlearnedtheyhadbeenthefirstreliefworkersintothearea,wellaheadofanyfromthegovernment.Jean-Jacquessetupatentkitchentofeedtheworkersalongwiththepeopleimpactedbytheslides.Theothersoftheirteam,aboutninetystrong,wentdoortodoorshovelingoutmud,cleaningupandrepairingwhateverhadtoberepaired.

ThelocalsinCarcassonneweredoublyamazed.First,thatanyonegottothemsoquickly,andalsothattheteamrefusedanypayment.They’dexplainedtheywereChristians.Theirrewardwouldcomelaterandelsewhere.Allofwhichwasironic:Agroupsingledouttobehitbythegovernmentwasfirsttohelpthegovernment.

Ithadbeenalongday.Weweretired,soratherthanrustleupadinnerinthecoldhouse,weoptedtowalktoLaBrasseriefordinner.Ajazzgroupwasplaying.Goodfoodandgoodmusicseemedtheeasywaytoendourbusyday.Aswewalkedpastthefountainandacrosstown,thesunwastuckingdownforthenight.Longshadowswerefoldingoverthebuildings,thefadinglightsetofftheraspberry-coloredexteriorofalovelyhouseonthevillage’ssecondandquietestsquare.Wehadn’t

noticeditbefore.LAMAISONFRAMBOISEreadthesmallplaqueoverthedoorbell.Andjustabovethatwasawhitecardannouncing—AVENDR.Forsale!Thatsetourmindswandering.

“Ohmygoodness,”Bingsaid,stopping.Shereachedtotakemyhand.We’dbothbeenhit.Togetherwebackedintothestreet,lookingupatthetallraspberryfaçadesmilingdownatus.PierreandMarie-Claudecockedtheirheadsquestioningly.

“Threestories,”Bingmuttered,lookinguptotheleft,right,andbackagain.“Kenny,itevenhasasmallgarageinthefront.Andthere’sshopspaceonthecorner.Perfectforastudio/gallery?Andooh,look,agardenintherear.Ohheavens,Kenny,thehouselooksinperfectcondition.Forlongstaysorrentingwhenweweren’there.Imeanit’sgot…got…”

“Everything.”

“Exactly,”shesaid,hereyesgoingdreamy.

Ifeltittoo.CouldLaMaisonFramboisebeournextcrazychallenge?Greenwichwasfinished.WereallyenjoyedBlackMountainandwewereproductivehere.DidamedievalFrenchvillagemakesense,evenpart-time?Whatwouldthekidssay?Whatwouldourfriendssay?Whatwouldeveryonesay?But,andherewasthebottomline,whoseliveswerewetalkingaboutanyway?

Fortherestofthenight,actuallyforseveraldays,wehardlydareddiscussit—discussthatwhateverhadbeen,wasnolongeranissue.Thingswouldneverbethesame.Wecouldonlylookahead.

TENAHOTHOUSE?

THENEXTday,PierreandMarie-ClaudeleftforParis.TheKurtzescamebackfromCarcassonneandwantedtogettogether.Theyreallyhadgonetheextramile,whichmadeusfeelvaguelyinadequate.Wehadn’thelpedAdrian,muchlessevenlocatedhim.Allwe’ddonewasworryabouthim,andinbrokenFrenchatthat.

Atleasttheworkwe’dcommittedtoherewasgoingwell.Bingwasonherwaytocompletingtwenty-fiveinksketchesandoilcanvasesbytheendofourtwomonthsinBlackMountain.AndIwasclosetofinishingWhenEaglesFall,thenovelI’dstartedwritinghalfadozenyearsearlier,basedonterrorist-relatedeventsinmycareerwithPanAm.

BeforeourdeparturetoFrance,earlythatyearof2001,Ihadhadthefinalchaptersoutlined.Thebookopenedwithafictionalairline’sBoeing747beingblownfromtheskyoverScotland(soundfamiliar?),andmy

terroristmastermindbringingthecompanytoitsknees,ashehopestodotoAmericaandIsraelaswell.HislastactonU.S.soil,beforereturningtotheMiddleEast,ishisDayofJihad,inwhichanattackislaunchedagainstNewYorkCity,itslandmarks,mostprominentamongthese…theEmpireStateBuildingandtheTwinTowers!

IhopedtofinishthemanuscriptbythetimeweleftBlackMountain,togetittoaninterestedcontacthighupatDreamWorksthroughVernonScottofUPI,whowasnowrepresentingme.VernonandIboththoughtthatAmericawasbeingfartoocomplacentregardingterrorism.HavingbeenwithAmerica’sleadingflagcarrier,andhavinghaddozensofmycolleaguesmurderedbythesebastards,wesawnoreasontheywouldn’tcomeafterusonourownsoil.Wethoughtthebookcouldbeawake-upcalltothenewBushadministration.But,ofcourse,Ihadtofinishwritingit.Thatwastherub,therubthatwasnibblingawayatmetoonedegreeoranotherdayandnight.

THEMORNINGafterseeingtheAVENDRsignonLaMaisonFramboise,Bingpeekedoverthetopofherlavenderteacupandsaid,“Kenny,I’vebeenthinking…”

“AndI’vebeenthinkingtoo,”Ithrewinbeforeshecouldgetstarted.“Couldwebethinkingthesamething?”

“LaMaisonFramboise,”sheconcluded.

“Exactly,”Iaffirmed.

“Ifweownedit,wecouldcomehereeveryyear,”shesaid.“Maybeforsixmonthsandsixbackhome.Wedogetalotdonehere,andwecouldrentitwhenweareaway.”

“Tosaynothingofthegoodtherapyitisagainstaging,”Isaid.“Think

oftheworkoutourbrainsgetwiththelanguage.Andthathousereallylookstobeaturn-keydeal.”

Ahyes,withLaMaisonFramboise,BlackMountainwasworkingitswayintoourhearts:thehouse,thelocation—twohourstotheMediterranean,twototheAtlantic,thesametoskistationsinthePyrenees.BigciteslikeToulouseandAlbicloseby,tosaynothingofcastleslargeandsmallaroundeverycorner.Thepossibilityofactuallybuyingaplace,hopefullyingoodshape,wasgettingexciting.Noquestion.

“Yesterdayafternoon,afterIgotmyhaircut…youknowthelittleplaceuppastthetabac…Istoppedbythenotaire’soffice,”Bingconfessedalittlesheepishly.

“Really,”Isaid,raisinganeyebrow.“Whatabout?”

Puttingherteacupbackonitssaucershesaid,“IaskedabouttheconditionofFramboiseandtheaskingprice.”Shepaused,kindofpuffinghercheeks,“Kenny,there’snothinglefttodo.It’sallbeendone.”

“Howmucharetheyasking?”

“Ithascentralheat.Newwiring.Newdouble-panewindows…”

“Howmuch?”

“Thethirdfloor’sbeenrefittedasanoffice.Upundertheeaves.Itwouldbejustrightforyou—”

“How—”

“Thecornershophadbeenasportstherapist’soffice.Perfectforastudio.I’mnotsurewhatthegardensituationis,but—”

“—much?”

“Andthepriceisthebestpart,Kenny.Everything,taxes,fees,allofitisaboutthesameasausedcarathome.Tops,twenty-thousanddollars.

isaboutthesameasausedcarathome.Tops,twenty-thousanddollars.I’mnotkidding.Threestories,renovated,onaquietsquare,withagarage,studio,office,garden.OhKenny…”

“Umm,”Imumbled,feelingmyownexcitementgrowing.

THOUGHBINGhadbeentothenotaire,andbecausenooneintheofficespokeEnglish,sheconfessedshe’donlybeenhandeddocumentsonthehouse.Thetalkhadbeenlikemostofourdiscussionsatthatstage,rudimentary,primitive.Itwasclearweneededsomebodywhocouldreallytalktothemandtranslateforus.Jean-Jacquesagreedtohelp

WefoundrealestateworkeddifferentlyinFrenchvillagesthanwhatweareaccustomedtoathome.Ratherthanahigh-poweredrealtyfirmginningupbrochuresdescribingplaceslikeFramboise,orlistingtheminmagazinesandnewspapers,itwasstandardfortheownerofapropertyjusttotacka3×5cardtothedoorannouncingAVendre,withatelephonenumber,aswe’dseen.So,Jean-Jacqueshadafollow-upconversationwiththenotaire,whospoketotheowner,andtogethertheyarrangedforustowalkthroughtheplacethefollowingSaturday.Unfortunately,heandLailawouldbeoutoftown,sowewereonourown.

“Noproblem,”Iannounced,convincingnoone.

Fridaynightwepreppedfortheinspection.Wewrotedownthewordsforroom,wall,floor,ceiling,pipes,wires,windows,bathroom,heating,furnace,waterheater,allthatgoodstuff.Ifthatfailedus,wealwayshadgestures,grimaces,andwinkstofallbackon.

TheownerwasM.Riquet,butnotofCanalduMidifame.Onourknock,heopenedthedoorandofferedawarmbonjour.Steppingback

intothesmallfoyer,heindicatedforustomountthestairstothepremiereétage,firstfloorinFrance,secondinAmerica.

TheRiquets’workhadbeenbeautifullyexecuted.Oneverylevelthemassiveceilingbeams(poutres)wereexposed,stained,andtreatedagainstweebeasties.ThetopfloorwasexquisitelyredoneinShakespearianTudor,colombageasI’vementionedit’sknowninFrance,alldarkstructuralwoodpulledtogetherwithwhiteplaster.Icouldseemyselfthere,snugandwarm,withalovelyviewofLaMontagneNoireoutthewidewindowspeekingfromunderthetileroof’sclassicoverhang.Thesameorsimilarviewsforthetwobedroomsupthere,alongwithafullbath.

Themainfloor,oneflightabovethestreet,hadawell-appointedmodernkitchenwithdiningarea.Thelivingroomwaslargeandairywithanotherbathnexttothethirdbedroom.TwofullbathroomsinaFrenchvillagehousewas,bytheway,topofthemark.

Therearofthehouselookedontoaneglectedgarden.Weaskedaboutthat,butdidn’thaveenoughFrenchtounderstandwhatexactlythesituationwas.Allwepickedupwassomethingaboutalady,anoldladynextdoor.(We’dhavetogetJean-Jacquestoclarifythatsituation.)

Thehouse’sstreetlevel(lerezdechaussée),facingthesquare,wasalsoafind:asmallgaragewithworkshopspacebehind,whichaddedalotofvalue.AndithadalaundryroomandWCtoo,alongwiththegemoftheshoponthecorner,whichcouldbeBing’sstudioandgallery.Wewerereallyexcited.Alltheworkhadbeendone.Itwasturn-key.Andcheap.Wedidn’tmakeanypromisesbut,inserviceablepidgin,explainedwe’dbebackthatnextweekwithourFrenchfriendtodiscussthingsfurther.Everyonewassmiling.

ASSOoftenhappenswithdreams,realityhasawayofmessingthemup.Rightoffthebatwefoundthisdealhaditsshareofcatch-22s.Jean-Jacqueslearnedfromthenotairethatdecadesearliertheblock-sizedbuildinghadbeenonehouse.Thentheownerdied.Hiswifeinheritedit.Shehadlittletoliveon,sosheslicedtheplaceup,creatingaone-quartersliverforherself.TheRiquetsboughttheremainingthreequartersofthehouse,butsheretainedwhathadbeentherabbitandchickenshedattachedthelengthoftherear,justabovegroundlevel.Shealsohungontothegarden.Thoughitnowwasnothingmorethananeglectedtangle,andthecooponthebackaweatheredshamble,theladywouldnotpartwithanyofit.

Jean-Jacquesmadeseveralproposalsonourbehalf.Firstheofferedtobuyboththegardenandshedfromher.Shesaidnon.Nextwe’drentthegarden,returnittoitsoriginalcondition,andgiveherunlimitedaccess.Shesaidnon.Thenweproposedbuyingjusttheshed…non!Orrentingtheshedtorefurbishitintoacovereddeckoverlookingthegarden.Non!

AllofwhichledussadlybacktoM.Riquetwiththenewsthatwecouldnotmakeanofferonhislovelyhome.Hegaveoneoftheusualpuffed-cheekairpops,throwinginashrugforgoodmeasure.C’estlavieforhim.Crushingnewsforus.

FortherestofthemorningBingandItookahikeup“our”mountain.Weweretheonlyclimbers.Whichwasfine.Weneededquiettimetothink.Aboutthefuture.Wherewewouldspendit,andwhetherornotwe’dfalleninlovewithakindofBrigadoon.Somethingtherebutnotthere.Possiblebutimpossible.

Unfortunately,wedidn’tgetveryfarintheprocessbecauseonourreturntorueBasquewecouldhearthephoneringingaswewrestled

returntorueBasquewecouldhearthephoneringingaswewrestledwiththedoor.ItwasmysonBrit.Iwassurprised.Afterawkwardhelloshebrokethenews.Badnews.Granddaddy,Bobbye’sfather,wasgravelyill.Weweregoingtohavetogetbackassoonaspossibletobeabletoseehimbeforehepassedaway.

ItwastoolatetomakeParisbeforethelastflighttoNewYork.Wedecidedtogetallourstufftogether,boxBing’spaintingsandsketchesforAntonorJean-Jacquestoshiptouslater.TherentalcarcouldbeturnedinatCharlesdeGaulle.Inahugehurryweloadedallourotherstuffinit,figuringtohittheautoroutearoundthreeinthemorning.TheDeltafightleftatnoon.FromJFKwewouldconnecttoNashville,prayingwewouldnotbetoolate.

OurneedtogettoPariswassudden,abrupt,andunexpected.Sofartogowithsolittletimetodoit,allinthedarkofnight.AsIdrove,I’dglanceacrossatBing,who,atfirst,waswideawake,alsofocusedontheroadahead.Icouldtellhermindwasprobablymovingasfastasthecar.Allthisrush,thissuddenuprootingoftheslightshootsjustsproutinginBlackMountainhadtobeashockforher.AnditallinvolvedBobbye’sfather,herbrother,herchildrenwithme.IsensedallthiswasmakingBingfeelalone,peripheraltomeandmypastlife.

Thefactthatwehadeachbeenmarriedbeforegaveusacommonbond,butafragileoneatthat.Bing’sfirsthusbandstilllived,asdidalevelofpainbetweenthem.MyBobbyewasgone,leavingmewithonlymemories…ofloveandjoy.Iknewtheserealitiesweredifficultforher.Inonediscussionshe’dmadeasimplebutveryrealpointwhenshesaid,“Ken,Ican’tcompetewithamemory.”

WhatlayaheadforBinginallthisamountedtoawrenchingtest.Shewouldbetheoutsider,alone(thoughwithme)inanotherfamily’s

wouldbetheoutsider,alone(thoughwithme)inanotherfamily’semotionalstruggleofgoodbye.Then,asherheadgentledagainstthesidewindowandhereyesslowlyclosed,IsaidasmallprayerthatIcouldbeherlifelineoflove,keepingherandourunionafloatandsafe.

WEGOTtoNashvilleintime.ThelastSundayofhislife,threegenerationsoffamilyweregatheredaroundWarren’s,Granddaddy’s,bed.ItwasBing’sfirsttimemeetinghim.Shewasterrific.Despitethesadrealityofwhathungoverthathospitalroom,thetwohititoffverywell.Formeandespeciallyformykids,LexiandBrit,thathadbeenanimportantblessing.

Warrenwasagentleperson,agenuinelysweetmanwholovedpeopleandlifesomuchthathispositivewarmthandironichumorattractedallgenerations.Gatheredtherethatmorning,everyonejoinedinsingingthehymnshehadlovedsomuch.Evenashewasslippingaway,hemanagedtosmileandmovedhisrighthand,indexfingerhighlikeabaton,theconductorleadinghischoirofteary-eyedsingers.HeseemedtoappreciateBing’sperfectpitch.Hesmiledatherandnoddedtous,hisownvoiceunavailable,soclosetoleavingashewas.

Itwasadifficultday,butoneoflove.Asofttimeofquietaseachofusdealtwiththerealityofthispassing.Longaftermidnight,Britwaswithhisgrandfatherforthefinalgoodbye.

Dayslater,thelasttearsshed,wereturnedtoConnecticuttogetonwithourlives.

ELEVENHOME,LOOSEENDS,ANDAMIDNIGHTCALL

WE'DBEENbackintheStatestendayswhenwedecidednottoreturntoFranceforthefewdaysleftofourtwo-monthrental.Actually,westartedtodoubtiftherewouldevenberoomforFranceinourfuture.Dreamshaveawayofending.We’dleftourBrigadoonandnowfoundourselvesagainwalkingdownthemainstreetsofreality.

BinghadbeensplendidinTennessee.ThekidspickeduponhowsupportiveshewasofallofusduringWarren’sfarewelltolife.Shehadblendedseamlesslyintoafamilynothers.ItcouldnothavebeeneasyforherwithsomanymemoriesofBobbyeeverywherearound.

BACKINGreenwich,webothdoveintoourwork.Mynovel,WhenEaglesFall,wascomingtogether,onlythelastfewchapterstogo,whileBingalreadyhadcompletedthecollectionofcanvasesshe’dstartedinBlack

Mountain.OriginallyentitledNightMares,heragentthoughtthatcouldhavehadnegativeconnotations,sotheysettledonDreamHorses.

Thefocusofeachcanvasisanalmostmysticalrelationshipbetweenhorsesandhumans.Remember,inourdreamswecandoanything.There’snoproblemridingagreatstallionthroughtheair,overthetopsofmountains,orclosetothereachofamedievalsteeple.Bingsetsomeofthesefantasiesinthelushfieldsshe’dwalkedinaroundBlackMountain,whichbecametheequestrianparadegroundswhereherdreamhorsespranced.And,likeMarcChagallhadtuckedsmallremembrancesofhisnativeRussiaintohiswork,Bingdidmuchthesame.Afamiliarhousehere,treesthere,ahintofthevillageitself.HerbackgroundsembracedbitsandpiecesoftheBlackMountainthathadsolovinglyembracedus.

AndinWhenEaglesFall,ItoyedwithintroducingacharacterfromtheTarnvalley,moreprecisely,LaMontagneNoire.TherewasnoquestionourFrenchexperiencehadbecomepartofourverybeings,whichnowbeggedthequestion:couldwesimplyturnourbacksonitall?Wewerenotyetevenamonthaway,buttheseparationwasbeginningtoweighheavyonusboth.

WehaddiscoveredPeterMayle.HisEnglishcouple’sstumblingintonewlivesinProvencesetoffbells.We’dstartedpursuinganynoveltellingofdistantplaceswhereartisticpeoplefoundhappiness.TheMagicofProvencebyYvoneLenard,forexample,wasaboutacouplefromCaliforniafollowingsuit,butwiththetwistthattheyactuallybuyandrestoreavillagehouseintheLuberon,siteunseen!Arealtyagentdescribedatumbled-downruinoverthephone,andlessthanayear

later,whiletheywerestillinCalifornia,theplacewasrestoredexactlyasthey’dprescribed.MaybeamazingthingscouldhappeninFrance.Likedreamhorses,dreamhouses.

Abouttwoo’clockoneearlyMarchmorning,ourphonerang.Iwasinatotalfog,fumblingaroundinthedarktofindthedamnthing,sendingmybedsidelampcrashingtothefloor.Givemeabreak.Whowouldcallatsuchanhour?

“Hello,”Imumbled,readytobefurious.

“HelloKen,thisisJean-Jacques.FromFrance.AmIdisturbingyou?”

“No,noproblem.Ihadtogetuptoanswerthephoneanyway.”I’donceheardthatlineinamovieandthoughtI’dseehowit’dplayinreallife.

“Ohgood,”Jean-Jacquessaid,acceptingitwithoutquestion.“SayKen,I’mcallingthisearlybecauseIbelieveLailaandIhavesomethingveryexcitingforyouandBing.”

BynowBinghadherlighton.“Waah?”sheofferedfuzzily.

“It’stwointhemorning,Jean-Jacques.Can’tthiswait?”

“Timecouldbeimportant.EversinceyouandBingdidnottakeLaMaisonFramboise,we’vekeptoureyesoutforsomethingelse.Ithinkwehavefoundit.”

Istartedtoreply,butJean-Jacquesseemedtoowounduptolisten.IpushedthespeakerbuttonsoBingcouldhearthistoo.

“YourecalltheplacediagonallyacrossfromwhereyouwereonrueBasque?Itwasonthemarketbriefly.Onesideofthefronthadbeenatabacyearsago.”

“Yes,Irememberyoupointingitout.BingandIlookedinthewindowsoncewhentheshutterswereopen.Itdidn’tlooktoobad.The

windowsoncewhentheshutterswereopen.Itdidn’tlooktoobad.Thelocationisgood,”IaddedasIsatupinbed.

“Exactly.Nowhereismyidea.LailaandIthoughtaboutthisovernightandfeltwehadtogettoyoustraightaway.Wewouldliketogotothenotairethismorningandmakeanofferontheplace.Inyournames.Iknowthismightsoundbizarre,butifsomehowthisdoesn’twork,ifyoureturnhereanddonotlikethehouse,wewillbuyitfromyouforwhateveryouhaveinit.That’sapromise,Ken.”

Ascrazyasthatmighthavesounded,IknewJean-JacquesandLailahadthemoney.They’dsoldaninternationalchainofboutiquesshe’dstartedinLondon,andownedseveralBlackMountainpropertiestoo,whichtheysaidwereapartmentsforstrugglingchurchmembers,thoughweneversawanyoneinthem.Wehadknownofhowthey’dhelpedthemudslidepeopleinCarcassonne.Wehadnoreasontodistrustthem.Andmaybethetimingforsomethingcrazylikethiswasright.MaybetheMayleandLenardbookshadbeenprophetic.

“Holdonasecond,Jean-Jacques,IwanttohaveaquickwordwithBing.”PuttingmyhandoverthemouthpieceIcockedmyheadquestioningly.

“Whatdoyouthink?”Iasked.

“Seeifthey’llputupthedeposit.Forthesakeofspeedandasa…test,”shesaid,alreadymorewide-awakethanIwas.“Checkiftheycane-mailusphotosoftheinterior,andwhatcontactstheymighthavewithacontractortotakealookattheplacetogiveusanestimate.”

“Damnyou’resmart,”Isaid,andturnedbacktothephone.

“Jean-Jacques,Ijusttalkedthisoverwiththestaff…”

Bingbouncedapillowoffmyhead.

“Weareinterested,butittakesaweekormoretogetmoney

“Weareinterested,butittakesaweekormoretogetmoneytransferredfromhere.Evenbywire.IthastogothroughParis,thenToulouse,andallovertheplacebeforegettingtotheBlackMountainbank.Andwe’dfeelbetterseeingsomephotosfirstanyway.Canyoue-mailusshotsoftheinterior,gardenifthereisone,exterior,andseeifthereisacontractoraroundwhowouldgiveyouaballparkonafix-up?”

“Whywouldyouwantaballpark,Ken?Whathasastadiumtodowiththis?”Jean-Jacquesquestioned,confused.

“I’msorry,”Ireplied,feelingstupidforforgettingtheFrenchmanwouldn’tknowouridiom.“That’salocaltermforestimate,apreliminaryestimate.”

“Oh,Isee.Wecallthatadevis.Gotit,asyousay,”hesaid.“Iwilldoallofthat,andbythetimeyouareupforbreakfastwewillhaveplacedadepositonthepropertyaswell.Youwillbeonyourwaytohavingyourstadium.We’llforwardpicturestoo.Sleepwell,”heencouraged,thenasanafterthoughtadded,“Thisreallyisexciting.”

“Tosaytheleast,”Iagreed.“I’llcheckthecomputeraprèsmidiyourtime.”

“Perfect.Bonnenuit.”Hehungup.

IlookedoveratBingandsaid,“Done.”

“Whatwastheprice?”

Istaredattentivelyatthewall.Howtoframemyreply?ThenIdecidedjusttogowiththefacts.

“Ihavenoidea.”

“Let’ssleeponit,”shesaid,clickingoffherlight.

Noargumentfromme.

BYNOONourtimewehadthehousepicturesandapromisefromJean-JacquesthatheandLailawouldbewaitingforourcall.

Theexteriorlookedgood.Thefaçadeappearedassolidaswe’drecalledit.Thestuccofacingwasnotcracked.Thewindowsseemedintactandthefoldingside-mountedshutterswereingoodrepair.Jean-Jacqueshadattachednotestoeachpicture.Onesaidtheroofwassoundanditstilesokay,thoughnotcrocheted,whateverthatmeant.Startingarenovationfromtheroofdownwascustomary,andhe’drecommendcrocheting,whichwouldeliminatetheneedforannualtilealignments.Hello?Afterthat,insulationcouldbelaidin.Halfofthattopfloorcouldbeleftroughasastorageroom,theotherhalffinishedwithskylightsforBing’sstudio.Jean-Jacqueswrotethatthesecondfloorwasingoodenoughshapetoleaveasitwas.Inthefrontweretwobedroomswithdecentplaster,justalotofwallpaperontop.Therearhadtworooms,oneaveragesize,theothersmall,butopeningontoabalconyoveralittlecourtyard.Oneofthefourroomscouldbeconvertedtoabathroom.Nobigdeal,hisnotesassuredus.

Thestreetlevellookedamess.Tinyroomsandonetoiletforthewholehouse.Egads.Nevertheless,Jean-Jacqueswrotethatknockingdownwalls,pullingdownceilings,aswehaddoneinGreenwich,wouldstraightenthatout.Andremember,thewayFrenchrenovationswent,toptobottom,itwouldbeworsebeforeitgotbetter.

Thereasontheprocesswentthatway,he’dexplained,wasthatthedebrisproducedintheupperspaceshadtobedumpeddowntheopenstairwell.UnlikerehabsintheU.S.,whereadumpstercansitoutfrontformonths,inFrenchvillagesthereisnoroomforsuchmonstersinthetinystreets.Sothefirstfloorbecomesthedumpster.Eachweek,Fridays

tinystreets.Sothefirstfloorbecomesthedumpster.Eachweek,Fridaysusually,theaccumulatedtrashwouldbehauledaway.

Aftertheupperfloorswerecompleted,thestreetlevelwouldneeditsbathroomrefinished.Jean-Jacquessuggestedthecrackedplasterceilingsbetakendowntoexposetheoldbeams,addingatmospheretotheplace.Thewallscouldgetthesametreatment,showingoffthestone,Toulousianbrick,andheavywoodenpostshesaidwerebehindtheplaster.

Thefaxedphotoofthekitchenshoweditwouldhavetoberippedout,maybelocatedelsewhereforthatmatter.Thecourtyardhadahugekerosenetanktakingupmostofitsspace.Thatwouldhavetogotoo.Andfinallytherewasanabandonedrearbuilding,ownershipsharedwiththehousesoneitherside.Ithadoncebeenastable,withtackroomandlivingquartersabove.TheportionthatcamewiththehousecouldberedoneintoanofficeforKenny,Lailasuggestedinthenotes.Ifthewholebuildingcouldeventuallybeboughtandrestored,itwouldmakeagreatstudioandgalleryforBing,she’dadded.Thesketchalsoshowedanarrowlanethathadonceservicedthatbuilding.Sincethevillagewasadesignatedmedievalsite,thelawsaidthelanehadtobeprotected.Jean-JacquesthoughtitcouldbereopenedintoacharmingmewsleadingtoBing’sfuturegalleryandmyoffice.

Very,veryexciting.SoweplacedthecalltoJean-JacquesandLaila.

“Ken,Bing,theprojectisquitedoable,”Jean-Jacquesassuredusassoonashecameontheline.“Wehaveacontractor,arestaurateurherenamedLaurantdeGaillac.Hehasalreadydoneacoupleofhousesforus.Whilewewereawaitingyourcall,Laurantlookedthingsover.Hesaidthejobwouldtaketwoandahalftothreemonths,dependingon

theweather.Hehasacrewavailable.Startingquickly,thehousecouldbereadyforyouasearlyasJune.Ifyougivethego-aheadtoday,he’spreparedtofaxthedevisforyourapproval.HewouldstartontheroofassoonasIhaveclosedatthenotaire’soffice.”

Beingonourspeakerphonefeltabitlikebeingnakedinashowroomwindow.Itwasn’teasytocrosscheckouremotionswithotherpeoplelistening.Clearlythewholethingwascrazy,thetimelineajoke,butthrilling.Buyingandredesigningahouseanoceanawaybytelephone,e-mail,andfaxhadtobeoffthecharts.Butwhatthehell,weweren’tgoingtoliveforever.

“So,dowegiveLaurantthego-ahead?”Jean-Jacquesasked.

“Heyyoutwo,”Bingjumpedin,“nobody’stoldustheprice.Orevenhowmuchfortherestoration.”

Jean-JacquesapologizedwhileLailachuckled.Thenhegaveanumberinfrancs:itwasoveronehundredthousand.Butdividingthatbyseven,thedollarpricewasincrediblylow.Aboutfourteen-thousanddollars.Wecouldn’tbelieveitatfirst,butconfirmedthefigurewithacalculator.Andtherehab?Jean-Jacquestoldusafterallwassaidanddone,theentireproject,turn-key,wouldcomeinforlessthanthirtythousanddollars,ifwedidn’tdoanythingtotherearbuildingatthisstage.Lessthananewcar.Holymackerel!Thentheclincher.

“Ken,Bing,look…LailaandIhavetalkedthisover.Sincewearetheonessoldontheproject,wewilldothis:Wewillpayforitall.Youpayusbackafteryougethereandfeelcomfortableabouteverything.Themoneyisnotimportant.Wewantyoutohavealifeherewithus,doingyourpainting,writingyourbooks.Makingitpossibleforourfriendship

andrelationshiptogrow.Thatiswhatisimportant,notafewdollars.”

BingandIlookedateach,mouthsopen.

“Letusgetthisstraight,”IsaidasslowlyandasclearlyasIcould,“youtwoareofferingtobuythehouseforus,starttherenovationwithyourcontractor,overseeeverythingfromthere,andhandusthekeysonadonedealwhenwearriveinJune?”

Lailajumpedin.“Themoneyissolittleitdoesn’tmatter.Wehavesomuchfunwithyoutwo,weonlywanttomakesurethatwillcontinue.Payuswhenyouwantto,ornever.Justsayyesandwewilltakecareofeverything.Wewillhavethehousereadyandwaiting.Pleasesayyes.”

BingandIdidmorestaringateachother.Mygoodness.Talkabouttheofferyoucannotrefuse,andfromoutofnowhere.Wereallydidn’tknowtheKurtzeswell,buttheycertainlywantedtochangethat.Incredible.

“Laila,Jean-Jacques,holdonamoment,”Isaid,“we’retryingtogetovertheshockofyouroffer.We’realsocheckingourconsciences,bankbook,psychiatrist,minister,ourcat,anythingforareasonnottodothis,but…”IlookedatBing,whodidanotherofherFrenchshrugs.“Okay.Youhaveadeal.Startthepaperwork.We’reready.”

“OhKen,Bing,”thechoruscamefromacrossthesea.“Youwillneverregretthis.And…”Jean-Jacquespaused,allowingLailatosay,“…itwillbesuchfun!”

TWELVEMADHOUSEDISEASE

BYMAIL

NUMBER9rueBasquebecamearealityinourlivestwodayslaterwhenJean-Jacquesgavethedownpaymenttothenotaire,lockingthehousein,withournameonthecontract.Therewouldbeinspectionsandtitlesearchesaswehaveathome,buttheprojectwasactuallyunderway.

Jean-Jacquesfaxedusscaleddiagramsofeachfloorandeveryroominthehouse.Rooftop,too.Themanwasamazing,sofocusedongettingustheplace,workingoutthepaperwork,settinguptherenovation,andhavingeverythingreadyforusinJune.Turn-key.Riskfree.Zerodollarsdownforus,afiguresmackinthemiddleofmyScottishheritagepricerange.Butwhywashesocommittedtothis?Inreality,wehardlyknewoneanother.

Anyway,withthematerialJean-Jacquesforwarded,wehadagood

ideawhatLaurantdeGaillac,thecontractor,wouldbasehisestimateon.Jean-Jacquesfeltthesecondfloordidn’tneedanythingstructural,onlycosmetics—paint,wallpaper,lighttouch-ups—allofwhichcouldwaittillwemovedin.Laurantdisagreed.Hefelttheplasterofthewallsandceilingswasnotgood,andwe’dneedasecond-floorbathroom,soripitallout.Lailacounteredthatcontractorsalwayswantedtoaddtoaproject,notsubtract.Especiallywhenthingswereslow.Besides,sheandJean-Jacqueshadredonetwovillagehousesalready.Trusttheirexperience.SowehadthemtellLauranttoforgetthesecondfloorexceptforroughinginbasicplumbingforconvertingonebedroomtoabath.

ACTIONBEGAN.Thenotairepaperssigned,ournamesonthedeed,and,toeaseourconsciences,wesentLauranthisdevismoney.Workgotunderway…weweretold.WeeklyreportsstartedcominginfromJean-JacquesandLailasayingallwasontrack.Well,moreorlessontrack…“comingalong,”theysaid.Ahh,hmm.

WecrankedupourFrenchlessons.Whoknew?BlackMountainmightturnintoourprimaryresidence.Nomatterwhat,wewantedtofitin,notstandoutlikeklutzes.

Thenthedollarwentonarunagainstthefranc.Injustweeksitpickeduptwopoints,puttingusabout25percentaheadofwherewethoughtwe’dbewhenwedidthefinalsettlementwiththeKurtzes.Theapproachingeurowasspookingthefrancmarket.However,comingfromCelticstock,I’dbeenraisedtobeleeryofgoodfortune.(Knockonwood.Throwsaltoveryourshoulder.Lookoutforblackcatscrossing,thatkindofstuff.)So,Iwasn’tsurprisedwhentheinternationalreportstold

ussouthwesternFrance’sAprilweatherhadgonefromsurprisinglymildtounusuallynasty.WordcamethatLaurant’sworkschedulewasimpacted.CompletionwaspushedintoJuly.“Maybelater,butnottoworry.”Jean-JacquesandLailaassureduswecouldstayattheirplace,intheguesthouseacrosstheswimmingpoolfromthemainresidence,foraslongitwouldtake.

WhichsoundedreasonableenoughuntilLailaadded,“Stayhereallsummer,thewholeyear!Whycare?We’llhavesuchfun!”

“Waitaminute,”Isaid,lookingskepticallyacrossthebreakfasttableatBing.“Summer?Thewholeyear?EarlyJulyisonething,butwhat’sthisstuffaboutforever?”

“Ihavenoidea,”sheshrugged,“butthankheaventhey’reofferingtheirguesthouse.”

Beyondthecomplicationsofweather,IwasbeginningtosensetherewerethingsgoingoninBlackMountainwedidn’tknowabout.Ormaybedidn’tunderstand.Ihadneverbeencomfortableasaguestanywhere,andanextendedstayatJean-Jacques’estatemademeuneasy.I’dneverknownlong-periodguest-hoodtowork.

Weekspassed.Thereportswereceivedgrewvagueatbest,thoughwhenwetalkedwithJean-Jacques,hewasalwaysreassuring.Wecouldonlyassumeandpraytheturn-keyaspectofthedealwasstillinplace.

ButwedidnotwaituntilJulyorevenJune.ItseemedmoreprudenttoheadoverinlateMaytobetterkeepoureyesonthings,thingswhichseemedtobegrowingmoreandmoreopaque.WehadalreadylearnedthattheFrenchwererarelyontime,sowewantedtokeepsurprisestoaminimum.Beforeleaving,wespentaweekvisitingourwestcoastkids,oureastcoastkids,sayinggoodbyetoalotoffriends.Wetelephoned

oureastcoastkids,sayinggoodbyetoalotoffriends.WetelephonedJean-JacquesandLaila,tellingthemtoexpectus.Theconversationwentfromsomewhatstrainedtolaughsandtalkof“morefunahead.”Itwasasifthetwoofthemhadfirsthunkered-down,thenlookedateachother,shrugged,smiled,andthrewa“whatthehell”inourdirection.IthinkBingandIsensedallthat,uncomfortably.Nowthequestionseemedtobedeveloping,werewetotalidiots?

THEREWEREnohitchesontheflighttoParis.Afteradrive-byhellotoPierreandMarie-ClaudeweshotstraightdowntheautoroutetoToulouse.Beforeweknewit,wewererollingunderthatcathedraledcanopyofelegantplatanesbackintoBlackMountain.

Thewholeregionwewerepassingthroughwastheveryessenceofthespringarriving.Earlybuds,fieldswithstrugglingshootsofgreen,andthevariousbrownsofnewlyturnedearthkeptoureyesmoving,drinkinginthesurprisevitalityofnatureandoneseason’shintofanother.Theumbrella-cutsycamoresliningtheapproachtoClaude’sCafédesFleurswerebudding,thetrees’newshootsintheafternoonsunseemedtobereachingouttousinwelcome…welcomehome.

WeparkedinfrontofthecaféandwalkedaroundthecornerontorueBasque.Likekidswereachedforeachother’shandasoureyestrippedoverthecobbledsidewalktothefrontdoorofnumber9.IheardatinysighfromBing,drowningoutmyownaswestoodlookingat…ourhouse.

BingfishedinherpurseforthekeyJean-Jacqueshadmailed.Shestartedtohandittome,butIshookmyhead.Thiswashermoment.She’dfoundcrazyBrietheartlady,BlackMountain,rueBasque,number10,allofit.Itwasonlyrightshebetheonetoturnthekeytowhatthis

newpartofourfutureheld.

Nervouslyshestabbedatthelock.Finallythekeyslidintotheslot.Ittookquiteatwisttoclickthelatchandthen,holdingourbreath,wepushedthedooropentogether,and…

“OhmyGod!”Binggasped.

“Ohshit,”Isaid.

“Isittherighthouse?”Bingasked.

Icheckedthenumberundertheoutsidelight.“Number9,”Isaid,wishingitweren’tso.

“Iwanttocry,”shesaidpressinghershoulderagainstthedoorjamb,tiltingherheadagainstthechippeddustypaint.

Igroanedlookingattheheapsofdebrisandrandomjunkclutteringtheplace—brokenstones,bricks,plaster,pilesofsand,crapeverywhere.Asfaraswecouldseedownthehalltheplacewasfourfeetdeepintrash.Iwantedtohitsomething,breaksomething,shoutatsomebody…butnooneseemedtobearound.

“Ohhhh…”wasallBingcouldgetoutbeforeahorrendouslyloudgas-poweredgeneratorkickedin.Ahundreddecibelseasy.Andintheconfinedspace,unbelievable.

“Thewiresleadupthestairs,”IshoutedtoBing.“Followthem.Somebody’sgottobeupthere.”

“Maybesomebodywecankill,”Bingsuggested,abitdistantfromherQuakerrootsitwouldseem.

Westruggledintothefrontroom,pickingourwaythroughthedebris,downahallwaythat,accordingtoJean-Jacques’reports,wasn’tsupposedtobethere.Wetrippedandtumbledtowherethestairswentuptoourleft,andlookedstraightaheadintoadingysoot-cakedkitchen

uptoourleft,andlookedstraightaheadintoadingysoot-cakedkitchenandbeyondtoasetofcrackedwindows,anunhingeddoor,andintowhatwassupposedtobeacourtyard,butinfactwastheresidenceofthebiggest,roundest,fattestpieceofjunkI’dneverwantedtoseesquattingthere.

“Theoiltank,”Bingsaid.

Ourmindshadbeenfullofflatteringsketchesofwhateverythingwassupposedtolooklike.Oureyesonlysawuglydisappointment.Nofireplacesnuggledintotheexposedstoneofonelivingroomwall.Noteventhefriggingwall!Justacrackedplastermess.Nodefinedlivingroomeither.Justpilesofrubble,sand,andthatdamnedgasmotorblastingaway.Surewe‘darrivedearly,butthiswasyearsawayfrom“turn-key.”Wasitallanissueoflanguage?Giveusabreak.

Aswetrudgedupthestairs,Binglookedclosetotears.Onthesecondfloor,wherewe’dbeenassurednothingneededtobedoneandweexpectedtoseegoodtilingandsturdywallswithsolidceilings,therewasonlycrumblingplaster,crackedceilings,brokenwindows,andrumbly-tumblytiles.HadJean-Jacquesbeencrazy,drunk,orboth?Goodlord.

Itwasn’ttillwetoppedthethirdflightofstairsthatanythinglookedlikewhatwe’dexpected.Thetop-floorwallswerefinished.Theceilingplasterwassolid,andtuckedneatlybetweenrowsofsturdyhoneybrownsupportbeamswerethreewell-mountedskylights.

Amanwasstandingwithhisbacktousrunninganelectricsanderupanddownatree-trunk-sizedcolumnsupportingthemassivecenterbeamrunningthewidthoftheroom’speak.Iwalkedupandtappedhimontheshoulder.Hejumpedaboutafootintotheair,bouncinghisheadpainfullyoffthebeam.Myheartdidnotgoouttohim.

painfullyoffthebeam.Myheartdidnotgoouttohim.

“Bonjour,monsieur.Çava?NoussommeslesAméricains.”IwastryingtobepolitewhileBingwaslookingdaggersattheguy.Blessherheart.

Imusthavedoneprettywellbecausehesmiled,nodded,andlaunchedintoarushofFrenchIhadn’taprayeroffollowing.Whichonlyheightenedmyfrustrationwiththewholedamnedsituation.IlookedtoBingforhelp,butsheonlyshrugged.

Finally,realizingIwasgettingnothingofwhathewassaying,themanmimedhewouldcallsomeoneonhisportable.IheardthenameLaurant.Myspiritsrose.Thephonewashandedtome.Theringingendedand…moretongues.AllIcoulddowasstutterandmumbleintoit.Whateverthehellthevoicewassaying,Ididpickouttoutdesuite.Immediately.Ifiguredwhoeverwastalkingtomewasonhisway.Somethinghadgoneseriouslywrong.Nothingthatshouldhavebeendone,hadbeendone,andwehadn’tbeentoldawordaboutit.Bingwasheretopaintbeautifulcanvases.IwassupposedtobefinishingmyTomClancy-typeterroristnovel.Neitherofuswassupposedtobegettingcaughtupinsomecrazydamnhomerenovationhorrorstory…again.

Standingthereinthemidstofsolittledoneandsomuchtodo,beggedthequestion:WithourexperienceinGreenwich,whydidwethinkthisjobwouldbedifferent?There,sixmonthshadbecometwoyears.Here,threemonthswerelookingtobecomesixormore.Ourexpectationswereturningtodustanddebris.Yes,theKurtzeshadamassedafortunebycleverbusinesspracticesandwe’dseenwhattheyhaddoneforotherpeople,sowe’dbelievedthem.Andthebookswe’dread,especiallythelong-distanceLuberonrestorationYvoneLenardhadwrittenabout,toldussuchserendipitysometimesactuallyworked.

Damnthetorpedoes,fullspeedahead.

WHENLAURANTrolleduponhisflashyredmotorscooter,helookedlikeatypicalAmerican-stylecontractor.(Butforthelanguage,ofcourse.)Hewaswearingengineerboots,abrownleatherjacket,andrough-stitchedchinopants.HehadaroundIrishfacewithsandybrownhair,waswellbuilt,ingoodshape,andaboutmediumheight.

Shuttingdownhismachine,hepulledoutabunchofdocumentsfromacarryingcasestrappedtothescooter’srearseat,poppedonreadingglasses,andleafedthroughthesheaths,markingthepageshewantedtoemphasizeinourdiscussion.Asitturnedout,however,therewasnowaytodiscussanything.HespokelessEnglishthanwedidFrench,sohesignaledwegototheCafédesFleursandseeiftherewasanyonearoundtointerpretforus.

OnlytheproprietorClaudewasthere.Bing,Laurant,andIstrodeuptothebarwherehewasopeningafreshpackofMarlboros;theAmericanbrand,agoodomen.Businessmustbepickingup.

“Claude,est-cequevousparlezEnglais?”(DoyouspeakEnglish?)Laurantasked.

Withouttheslightesthesitation,Claudenoddedandsaid,“Yes.”

ThatwasnewstomeandBing.ThetimesweatethereduringourfirsttimeinBlackMountain,heneversaidonewordinEnglish.AndtheFrenchhetaughtmecamefromhandsignals,writtentext,orjustshouting.Hadhebeenpullingmychainallthistimeorwhat?

ButweallbreathedasighofreliefandLaurantstartedinonalongramble,beginningwithafewFrenchwordsIunderstood,Dites-ilque…“Tellhimthat…”andthenwentoffonalengthyanddetaileddiscourse

inrapid-fireFrench.Aftertalkingagoodfiveminutes,hisindexfingerstabbinghereandthereinemphasisonpageafterpageofhispapers,hepaused,indicatingitwastimeforClaudetogiveusthetranslation.Unfazed,Claudewastednotime.TurningtomeandBing,helookeduseachintheeyeandlaunchedintohisownpresentationofeverythingLauranthadsaid.Wordforword.TheonlyproblemwasthateveryoneofhiswordswasalsoinFrench!Yeegads.ThebottomlineofthewholeexercisewasthatClaudeknewoneEnglishword:Yes.

Recognizingtheurgetokillinmyeyes,andseeingmuchthesameinBing’s,Claudeofferedusaroundofdrinksonthehouse.

Whattodo?Finally,armedwiththeworddemain(tomorrow)Ipidgin-FrenchedmywaytopromisingwewouldhaveJean-Jacquesalongtointerpret.

LeavingthecaféBing’sheadwasdown.Iputmyarmaroundhershoulder.

“Whatamess,”Isaid,myspiritsdroppingrightalongwithhers.“Whatanincredible,unnecessarymess.”

“OhKenny,”shesaid.“Howdidweevergetintothis?”

WhatcouldIsay?Maybeinthemorningwewouldfeellessdisappointed,butwesureashellhadtotalkwithJean-JacquesandLaila.

THIRTEENISHOMEWHERETHE

HEARTIS?

THEKURTZEScompoundwasonlyafewkilometerswest.Scowlingthroughthesunfloodingthewindshieldaswedroveoutoftown,allIseemedtoseewerehappyfaces.Peoplewalkingtheirdogs,playingwiththeirchildren,shopping,biking—thewholeatmosphereofBlackMountainwaswarmandconvivial,accommodating.

“Bing,look,everybodyseemssohappy.”

“Theyprobablydon’tknowJean-JacquesKurtz,”shesaid,eyesflashing.“Kenny,that’showIthoughtwe’dbe.Isawusunpackingourbagsinourpracticallyfinishedpiedàterre.Anewstart.Readytotakeontheworld.Butnow,gosh,lookatus.Noplacetounpack.Nohouse.It’slikewe’rerefugeesorsomething.”

Ididn’thaveananswer.

THEGATEoftheKurtzestatewasopen.Wefollowedawindingdrivewayofmaybeaquartermilethroughfieldsofnewhaytowardabarnandtwolargebuildings.Onewastheoriginalfarmhouse.Theother,country-money-modern,waswhereLailaandJean-Jacqueslived.Wepulledtoastopbytheguesthouse.Allsmiles,LailaandJean-Jacqueshurriedtogreetus.Whichseemedodd.TheyhadtoknowwewouldbebesideourselvesafterseeingthemessatrueBasque.

“Hello,hello,hello,”Lailachirpedclappingherhands.“Bonjour,bienvenue,welcometoyournewhomeherewithus!Ohmygoodness,Ihavebeenholdingmybreathallday,burstingtohelloyouwithhugsandkisses!”

LailakissedBing,thenme,thenBingagain.I’dneverseenhersohappy.NorhadIseensuchasmileonJean-Jacques’faceashereachedformyhand,sensitivetotheAmericanmale’sdiscomfortwithmanoymanokissing.Howcouldtheybesorelaxedandhappy?

Theyhelpedunloadandstackourstuffinsidethekitchendooroftheguesthouse,stillallsmiles.Oncethatwasdonetheypracticallydraggedustothemainhouseforaperitifs.

“We’vegotsomuchtotalkabout,”Lailabubbled.

“I’llsay,”Bingquipped.

Theirplacewaslarge.Wewalkedintothepetitsalonadjoiningthekitchen,throughglassdoorsopentoawidehallway,intoagrandfoyerandonintothelivingroom.Thiswasanenormousandmodernlyappointedcavernwithahigh-beamedcenterceilingandlowervaultedalcovesmirroringthedesignofthemainroom.Wetrekkedacrosswhatwaspracticallyaplayingfieldofcarpetedtiletoaclusterofsofasand

leathereasychairsgroupedinfrontofthestonefireplace,repletewithastackofblazinglogs.Theheatwaswelcome.Outsidetheweatherwascrisplyspring-like,butthestoneandtileinsidehadwrappeduswithachill.

“Thisissolovely,”Bingcommented,hereyessweepingupandaroundthecolambagedwalls,thehighheavybeamsaboveandtheexquisitelydetailedarrayofqualityfurnishings.

“Asyouknow,normallywekeepourselvesinthepetitsalonanditslittlefireplace,”Lailasmiled.“Buttodaywewantedyoutoenjoymoreofthehouse.”

“Whatwouldyoulikeforaperitif?”Jean-Jacquesasked,movingtowardadrinktrolleythatlookedstraightoffthesetofCasablanca.

“Muscatforme,”Lailachuckled.“Alwaysmuscatforme.”

“Bing?”Jean-Jacquesasked,asheextractedthecorkfromafreshbottleofLaila’sfavorite.

“Thatwillbefine,”shesaidwithoutalotofenthusiasm.

“Haveyouanyred?”Iasked.“Somethinglocal?”

“IhaveaCorbièresIthinkyou’lllike,”hereplied,“butI’mhavingScotch.Willyoujoinme?”

“No,nothankyou,Jean-Jacques,”Isaidshakingmyhead,“I’mthedesignateddriverthisevening.”

“Allthewayaroundthepoolfromhere.Achallenge,”hesmiled.

“Idon’twanttoendupinthepooloranymoreallwetthanIalreadyam,”Isaiddarkly,butstillwinningachucklefromLaila.

“You’resomuchfun,Ken.Youalwaysmakemelaugh.”

Idoubtedthatwasgoingtolast.

Hors-d’oeuvresandasecondglassofwineformeandLaila,while

Hors-d’oeuvresandasecondglassofwineformeandLaila,whileBingandJean-Jacquesleftitattheone,broughtusfinallytotheeight-hundred-poundgorillasittingonthesofanexttome.

“Thehouseisadisaster,”Isaid,goingatithead-on.

“Yes,itis,”Jean-Jacquesreturned,confirmingtheobviousbutnotelectingtoelaborate.IhadtakenonlyonesipbutLailatoppedmeoffanywayandrechargedheralreadyhalfemptyglass.

“Why?”Iasked,myvoiceperhapsadecibeltooloud.Bingtouchedmyarm.

“Complications,”Lailavolunteered,tryingtoshort-circuitthetensionbuildingbetweenmeandJean-Jacques.

“Howso?”Iasked,myeyesmovingquestioninglyfromLailabacktoJean-Jacques.IsensedBingwasproudofmesofar.Ihadn’tgrabbedanyonebythethroat.

“Lauranthasalong-termcontractwiththedépartementthatsuddenlyobligatedhimtoconcentrateontheAbbeyrestorationforthetimebeingandreducehiseffortsatrueBasque.”

“Whyweren’tBingandItoldofthis?”Iasked,feelingmycolorrising.

“Wefeltitwouldonlyhavemadethingsworse,”Jean-Jacquessaid,gettingupandmovingtothedrinktrolleyagain.

“Somethingstronger?”heaskedashepouredhimselfseveralmorefingersofScotch.Ishookmyhead,sippingmywine.Everyonewassilentforabeat.

“Jean-Jacques,”Ibeganagainslowly,fightingtheimpulsetobreaksomething,“youknowBingandIareheretopaintandtowrite,not…nottoworkonahouse.Wecamelastwintertorecoverfromour

Connecticutexperience.Wegotalotdonewhilewewerehere.Whichiswhywehavereturned.Whichisalsowhyweagreedtoyourkindoffer…whichwehadbeenassuredwouldbeaturn-keyoperation.Whichwenowlearnisdecidedlynotaturn-keyoperation,whichismonthsaway.”

“Ken,”Jean-Jacquessighedasiflayingoutcahierandcrayonsforachild.“DearKen,Lauranthadtodiverthispeoplebydirectionofthedepartmentalgovernment.Hehadnochoice.Imadethedecisionnottobotheryouwiththatdetail.Myreasoningwasthatyourgoalincominghere,asyouhaveoftenexpressed,isforwritingandforpainting.Well,Laurant’ssituationwillnotalterthatintheleast.TherueBasquehousewilltakelonger,yes,ofcourse,butyouwillhavetheguesthousehere.AndyouwillhaveLailaandmetohelpyouoverseetherestoration.Thatisnotaproblemforus.Youcansetupyourcomputerwhereveryouwish.Ihaveanextraprinterandfax-telephoneforyou.YouwillhaveacompleteofficetoworkinandBingwillhavemorethanadequatestudioaccommodations.Wewillseetothat.So,thejobonthehousewillbedonebetter,becausewewillallbeheretogether.Laurant’speoplewillfinishtheworkassoonastheyarefree.Youcanpopovereverydayortwotomakesurethingsareastheyshouldbe.ThatwasthewayIsawthesituationthen.ThatisthewayIseethesituationnow.”Hemadeperfectsense.ButIknew,sureaslittlegreenapplesIknew,itwasnotgoingtowork.

THENEXTmorningthethreeofusgatheredattheCafédesFleurstomeetwithLaurant.LailastayedathometogooversomeledgersrelatingtotheirLondonholdings.Yesterday’slinguist,Claude,preparedcaféaulaitforfourasLaurantmotoreduponhismini-moto.Greetingswere

exchanged.Clauderetreatedtothekitchen.BingandIstaredatLaurant.Jean-Jacquesstudiedthefloor.

Togetthingsstarted,Jean-JacquesbriefedLaurant,inFrenchofcourse,onwhatwehadcoveredthepreviousafternoon.AsLaurantresponded,Jean-Jacquesdeliveredasimultaneoustranslation.HedidfarbetterthanClaude.

WhatLaurantsaiddidn’tseemtodiffersignificantlyfromwhatwe’dheardfromJean-Jacques.LaurantdidaddthatsomeofhiscrewwouldbefreethebeginningofthenextweekforrueBasque.Theroofanddeuxiemetage,ourthirdfloor,wereessentiallyfinished,andhecouldsoonstartonthefirstfloor(oursecond),thenourfirst,theirrezdechaussée.Hebelievedhecouldcompleteeverythingintwotothreeweeks.

ThenIdroppedourbombshell,translatedbyJean-Jacqueswithanuncomfortablelookonhisface.

“Laurant,MonsieurMcAdamsandMadameMcAdamstouredthehouseyesterday.Theyhaveconcludedthatthesecondfloormustalsoberedone.Theysaythewallsarecrumbling.Theceilingsarecrackedandfallinginchunks.Awallmustberemovedintherearsectiontocreatealargebedroom,andtheywouldlikeonefrontbedroompreparedtobeconvertedintoabathroom.Overall,theydon’tknowiftheweathergotinoramiscalculationwasmade,butafullrestorationhastobedonethroughout.”

AsJean-Jacqueswasdeliveringthat,aslightsmiletouchedthecornersofLaurant’smouthandhiseyesflickedtomine.Asbriefasitwas,Isensedamomentofcontact.Butitwasshortlived.Themagic

word,normalement,madefamousbyanynumberofcontemporarywritersdescribingthelaissez-fairelassitudeofsomanyFrenchhavingtodealwithagitatedAmericans,suddenlypoppedintothediscussion.

“MonsieuretMadameMacAdams,normalement…”LaurantbeganandJean-Jacquespickedupthetranslation,“…arestorationprogressesfromtheroof,thentothetopflooranddownwardinlogicalordertothestreetlevel.Thevarioussysteminstallations,water,heat,electric,etc.,arecoordinatedwiththecontractororrestaurateurduringtheprocess.Theseareinstalledinalogicalsequence,oncetheoldwallshavecomedownandbeforethenewonesgoup.Forwhateverreasontherehavebeennoneofthetradesonthejobsofar,evenonthetopfloor.Noplumbers,noelectricians,nogasorfurnacepeopleeither.NormalementIwouldhaveusedmysubcontractorsforthiswork,butJean-Jacquessaidyouwouldbringthesepeopleinasnecessary.Thedevis,theestimate,Ioriginallysentyouhadallofthisinit.However—”

Iinterrupted,askingJean-Jacqueswherewerethetradesmenhe’dtolduswouldbeworkingonrueBasque?

“Onotherjobs,”heansweredsimply.“Plumber,electrician,gasinstaller,areallonotherjobs.ThingshaveturnedaroundinBlackMountain.Winterhadamildspellafteranearlycoldsnap.Springworkhasbeenmovedup.Wegotcaughtinthemiddle.”

IlookedatBing.Binglookedatme.Oureyessaidallthatneededtobesaid.Wehadbeenscrewed.Whichmeant,likeitornot,wewerenowoutoftheartworldandagainintotheworldofhouserebuilding.We’dbothbeendownthatdamnroadbefore.Butneverbeforebecauseoftheactionsofafriend.Whatthehellwasgoingon?

Reachingforastraw,Iasked,“Jean-Jacques,you’dmentioneda

Reachingforastraw,Iasked,“Jean-Jacques,you’dmentionedaplumberyouuseonyourLondonproperties.Aren’tthingsslowoverthere?Couldwegethimhere?

“Cork,”hesaid,nodding.

“Foraplumber,thenamesoundsappropriate.Canwegivehimacall?Seeifwecangethimhereforahellishweekofwork?Waterandgas.Samelicense,right?We’llputhimupattheAbbeyHotel.Food,grog,everythingonus.WecanpickhimupattheCarcassonneairport.RyanAirhasridiculousratesfromLondon,right?”

Jean-Jacquestookoveragain,inFrenchthistime,explainingtoLauranthowwe’dgetplumbersinfromEngland,perhapsovertheweekend.LaurantbrightenedandpromisedtohaveasmanyofhispeopleaspossibleonthejobMonday.BingandIfeltsomeenergyintheroom.WeweregoingtohitthislikeotherAmericanshitNormandy,butwewouldfinishitonehellofalotfaster.Hopefully.

WerangupCorkinLondon.Heandahelpercouldmakeit.HispriceforthejobwouldbeabouthalfwhattheunavailablelocalFrenchmendemanded.Acandleofhopebegantoflickerattheendofthisabsurdtunnelwe’dgottenourselvesinto.But,BUT…thebottomlineofthewholehorribleexercisewasBingandIwouldbecome,atbest,subcontractorsagain.Orgruntlaborers.Nolongerartists.Allofitinanothercountrywithanotherlanguage,livinginsomeoneelse’shouse.Andnoneofthisaddressedtheissueofsix-monthvisitorvisas,lescartesdeséjour.Wouldtime,likeeverythingelse,runoutonus?

“IthinkI’mgoingtoscream,”Bingsaidaswestartedtothecar.

“Myinnerbitchhasn’tstoppedscreamingsinceweopenedthatdamnfrontdoorofnumber9rueBasque,”Isighed,shovingmyfistsdeepinto

mypockets,kickingstonesasIshuffledalong,headdown,feetheavy.

FOURTEENTRANQUILITYBASE?

THATAFTERNOON,backattheKurtzcompound,Jean-JacquesandIstackedfirewood,awallofitbythekitchendoorofthefarmhouse.Despitesummercomingon,BlackMountain’sthickstonebuildingsstillheldalotofwinterchills.Besidesthat,thecalendarandtheweatherseemedoutofsynch.Whenitwassupposedtobecolditwaswarm,andviceversa.Soeveryonehadalotoflogsreadytoburn.

Ourguestfarmhousehadalargefireplaceinthekitchen,butunfortunatelyitlaidasmokescreenthroughoutthehousebeforeitgothotenoughtodraw.Tocounterthat,wehadtocrackopenadoor,lettinginmorecoldnightairtoproduceheat.Anotherinstanceofonestepforwardwithatleastoneback.

ForthetwohoursJean-JacquesandIstackedwood,hegavememoreinsightintoFrenchliving,encouragingmytakingalongerviewofthings,usingthestackingasanexample.

“Ken,”hesaid,“wearestackingwoodnotonlyfornow,butfornext

“Ken,”hesaid,“wearestackingwoodnotonlyfornow,butfornextfallandnextwinter.Whydothejobtwice?Thelongviewistherightview.”

“You’retellingmeourhousewon’tbefinisheduntilnextyear?”Iasked,hopinghe’donlybeenspeakingfiguratively.

“WhenGermanyattackedin1940,theFrenchnewspaperssaidthewarwouldbebrief.Theywerecorrect,butnotinthewaytheythought.EvenwithParisoccupied,Englandexpectedvictoryinayear.Theyear1940became1945.Oneneverknows,”heconcluded.

“Jean-Jacques,Ihadaforty-yearcareerinaviation,whetherIwanteditornot,”Isaid.“NowI’mfinallyintowhatmylifewassupposedtobeabout.Bingtoo,butwe’rebothrunningfortyyearsbehind.Atthisstagewedon’thaveroomforthesemiscalculations.”

Jean-Jacquespausedforamoment,digestingmyremark,thenoffered,“Life’sexperiencesneverquit,onlywequit.Theyarethewellfromwhichwedrawthewaterofliving.Theunexpectedcanbeourgreatesttreasure.Wemightfindourselvesonadifferentpaththantheonewesetouttofollow,butasyourfriendPierresaidthatnightatdinner,theimportantthingisthatourdifferingpathsstillmoveusintherightdirection.TowardtheKingdom.AphraseIlike.So,consideryourselvestohavesteppedontoanotherpath,andfollowitwithanticipation.Notanger.Whatseemsasetbackmightinfactbethebestthingthatcouldbehappeningtoyourightnow.”

“Allwellandgood,”Ireturned,“butthathouseonrueBasquecanbethemetaphorofBing’sandmynewlifetogether.We’dexpectedittobeadoortoourfutures.Ourturn-keyfuturesatthat.Butwhenweopenedthedamnedthing,allwesawwasdisaster.That’snotwhatweareherefor,”Isaid,bangingmyfistagainstalog.

for,”Isaid,bangingmyfistagainstalog.

“Ken,rueBasqueistheperfectmetaphorforwhatyouandBingaredoing.Andlikeeverythingelseinlife,thingshappen,thingschange.Whyletitupsetyou?Allofthisjustaddsnewdimension.Thebookyouarewritingwillstillgetwritten,probablywithmoreinsight.Bing’spaintingswillbecompleted,butwithgreaterimport.Lookattheseunexpectedexperiencesasthingstoembrace.Don’tbesoobsessedtryingtopressonwithwhatnolongeris.Welcomechange.Enjoyitssurprises.”

“Enjoythis,”Imutteredtomyself.

LATERJEAN-JACQUESandLailawentoffontheirproselytizingroundsknockingondoors.TheydroveoneoftheirtwobigMercedes.AsinsightfulasJean-Jacquescouldbe,hecouldalsomissthefinepoints.

Dinner,anyway,wasterrific.IfeltobligatedtodisplaymynativeAmericangrillingskillsandIthinkIdidratherwell.Icutupachicken,sprinkledonmysecretgarlic-salt,garlic-pepper,garlic-garlicformula,addedadroportwooflemonandwhitewine…thelattermostlytakeninternally…andplunkeditalldownonabarbecueofcharcoalchunksandmesquiteshavings.TheFrenchmightknoweverythingthereistoknowaboutkitchens,butoutside,onthegrill,Americansrule!(NomatterwhattheAussiessay.)

Idon’tknowifitwasthewine,theblown-offtension,orwhat,butourtimearoundthedinnertablewasnothingbutlaughsrunningtotears.Iwasthebruntofthefunnieststuff,tellingstoryafterstoryofmyownlinguisticscrew-ups.ThetimeIwelcomedpeoplewithaheartyaurevoir,ratherthanthemoretraditionalbonjour.Ormysunnymorningbonsoir!Andofcoursemycommentonthebaker’sprettycoloredhorses

onhishead.

Bingcouldn’tresisttellingofthetimeIaskedthebutcherforpouletseins,whichIthoughtmeantchickenbreastsbutwasclosertochickennipples.OrthetimeIdidn’thavemylittlereddictionaryalongwhenIwastryingtorememberthewordforeggplant.Distracted,andI’dthoughtmutteringundermybreath,Icameoutwithmerde.Theclerkadvisedmewithasmilethathewassorrybuttheyfreshoutofshit.

SomanyfunnyMcBumpkinAbroadstories.Itwasarelieffromthetensionandangerwe’dbeenstrugglingwiththesepastdays.MaybetherewassomethingtowhatJean-Jacquessaidafterall.

THENEXTmorningwewereupearlyandofftoBlackMountain.LailaandJean-Jacqueswerenotearlyrisers,sowedidn’twaittohavebreakfastwiththem.Itwaschilly,butafterpickingupcaféaulaitatClaude’sandcroissantfromFrançoisandCaroline’spatisserie(nowwithbetterqualityfarinaandamatchfortheothershoprunbythegrumps),wesatonthewallofthefountaininthevillagesquaresippingandmunching.Thebreadwassogood.Thecoffeesogood.Theairsofresh.Ourheartscrinkledwiththejoyofhowwonderfulevenasimplemorningcouldbehere.Howathomewecouldsoeasilyfeel.

Awhitevandroveupandaroundthefountain,stoppingacrossfromus.Thelegendonitssidecaughtmyeye.LAROUSSEETFILS,PLOMBIERS,ÉLECTRICIENS,GAZETMAçONNERIE.Thelistofskillstheseguyshadwasimpressive.Plumbers,electricians,gassysteminstallers,andmasons.Busyfellows.

Twomen,probablythefatherandson,swungoutofthetruck,openedthereardoors,hauledouttheirtoolboxesandotherequipment,andwalkedtooneofthehousesdiagonallyacrossfromnumber9.Why

andwalkedtooneofthehousesdiagonallyacrossfromnumber9.WhywasIfindingthissointeresting?

Againmyeyeswanderedbacktothename—LaRousse.CouldthatbeChristopheLaRousse,Iaskedmyself?Ifitwas,hisbeingtherecouldbeveryinterestingindeed.

“Bing.Checkthevan,”Isaid,motioningwithhalfacroissant.“Doesthatnamemeananythingtoyou?LaRousse…”

Asshethoughtaboutit,thetwomengottothedoorofthehouse,unlockedit,andsteppedinside.

“LaRousse.Wasn’tthatChristophe’slastname,theplumberJean-Jacquesoriginallysaidwoulddoourplace?Electricaltoo?Iamsureitis.Lailasaidhisfatherworkedwithhimonthemasonryandthetwodidallkindsofotherstuff.Likeitsaysonthesideofthetruck.”

“Exactly,butwhydidtheygointothathouseandnotintoourhouse?Whoseplaceisit?”

“WecanaskJean-Jacques,”sheoffered.

“Right,”Isaid,gettingtomyfeetandcollectingpapernapkinsandourcardboardcupsforthetrashcontaineronthewaytonumber9rueBasque.

WALKINGINTOourplaceandagainbeinghitbythemess,theFrenchwordfortrashpoppedintomymind:poubelle.ThiswasChâteauPoubelle.OhLord,whattodo?Wheretobegin?

Wetrudgedtothethirdfloor.Atleastsomeworkhadbeendonethere.ThenBingpointedoutsomethingI’dtotallymissed.

“There’snoelectricity,nowiring,”shesaid,aftercheckingthebaseboards.

“Ohman,”Igroaned,wonderingwhyLaRousse&Filshadn’tbeenhereandputlinesin.Bingpulledoutapadandpencilandstartedwriting.Theplasteringshouldhavebeendoneafterthewiringwasin,oratleastgroovescutwhereandifbaseboardswouldgoon.Thiswholetopfloor’splasteringwouldbeoneofthose“beginagain”deals.Great.

Lookingatthestairwaynext,wesawtheriserswereamess.Sanding,staining,andpreservingwerejobswedidnotwanttodo,butcoulddo.Thendowntothesecondfloor,whereJean-Jacqueshadonlyseentheneedforspitandpolish,itlookedtouslikebrokenwindowshadallowedtheweatherin,turningtheplastertopowder.Whenhadsomanywindowsgottenbroken?WhenwasthelasttimeJean-Jacqueshadbeenintheplace?Whatdidthissayaboutourweeklyprogressreports?

“Kenny,lookhere,”Bingsaid,pullingatastripofwallpaper.“ThisisthesixthlayerI’vegottenoff.Ithinkthepaperistheonlythingholdingthewalltogether.”

Allthesecond-andfirst-floorwallswereequallycoveredwithlayersofwallpaper.We’dhavetopullitoff,butatleastwewouldgetwiringinbeforetherewasplasteringdone.Thenitoccurredtome,withoutJean-Jacquesbyourside,howwerewegoingtocommunicatewithLaurantorhistroopsonceworkbegan?Whentheplumber,Mr.Cork,rolledinfromLondon,he’dbespeakingEnglish,butthatwasonlyapartialplus.WhatwouldhisrelationsbewithLaurant’smen?

Abouteleveno’clock,wereturnedtothecompoundandaskedJean-JacquestocallLauranttoestablishsomesortofworkschedule.NeedingJean-JacqueslikethismadebothBingandmefeelhorriblydependant.WeweregoingtohavetogetaFrenchteacher.We’dbeenworkingasbestwecouldwithtapes,butthatwasnowherenearenough.

AtleastduringthephoneconversationIunderstoodJean-JacquesaskingLaurant,“Howlongtofinishthesecondfloor?”Thenhescribbledonanotepadforustoread,“Twotothreeweeks.”

WenoddedandIasked,“Lerez-de-chaussée?”(Thefirstfloororstreetlevel.)

“Twotothreeweeks.”MoreJean-Jacquesscribbles.

Forthehellofit,throughJean-Jacques,IaskedLauranthowlongtoredothecourtyardandbackbuilding.Youguessedit,twotothreeweeks!

InAmericawecallthatblowingsmoke.So,mytakeonthewholething,andBingagreed,wasthattwotothreeweeksmeantthreetofour,which,whenappliedtothesecondfloorandthefirstfloorandthecourtyard(includingthebackbuilding),addeduptoaneasythreemonths.Andanyfoolwho’severdealtwithcontractorsanywhereontheplanetknowsthreemonthsmeansfour,minimum.So,withuson-sitetokeepthingsmovingforward,itwasclearIwouldnotwriteonedamnwordofthebook,orBingpaintonedamncanvasforhernewcollection,beforeourvisasranout.Iwasfuming,asmuchwithmyselfaswiththewholestupidsituation.Toanyoutsideobserver,itwasprobablyclearfromtheget-gothatwewerenotdealingwithBrigadoonhere,butmoreaccuratelyCloudCuckooland.Greenwichhadbeenamess,nowBlackMountainlookedtotopit.Whatonearthcouldwehavebeenthinking?

“Kenny,it’snottheendoftheworld,”Bingsaid,takingmyhandaswewalkedbackfromtheKurtzkitchenandaroundthepooltoourguesthouse.“Somehowthiswillworkout…eveninourfavor.Twoorthreeweeks,months…that’snothing.We’vegottherestofourlivesaheadofus.What’sthatphrasewehearallthetime?Boncourage.Take

heart.That’swhatthisisallabout.We’vejustgottotakeheart.”

“Bing,Iloveyadarling,buttrustme…alltheseprojectionsaretotalbull,”Igrowled,pushingthroughthekitchendoorandshruggingoffmycoat.“Youknowthat.Iknowthat.Let’sbereal.”

“Please,don’tsnapatme.Weareonthesameteaminthis…”

“Welldamnit,I’vealreadyheardthecalmwaters,distanthorizons,andvastnessoflifecrapfromJean-Jacques,”Ifiredback.“Idon’tneedmoreofthesamefromyou.”

AssoonasIsaidit,Iregrettedit.ItriedtoreachouttopullBingtomeasiftotakeitback.Butshewasn’thavinganyofthat.Sheretreatedacoupleofpaces,puttingoutherhands,palmsuplikeathird-basecoach’s“holdup”signtotherunner.I’dtakenonestep…thenIstopped.

“Kenny,understandthis.Youcannottalkroughlytomeandthenexpectmetofallintoyourarmsassoonasyourealizeyou’vebeenajerk.Sojuststayaway.Ineedspace.Andsomequiet.”

Sheturnedandwalkedoutofthekitchen.Icouldhearhergoupthecreakystairs,walkdownthehalltoourbedroom,thentherewasthefaintclickasshepulledthedoorshut.

Iguessthatwasourfirstfight.InawayIwishedithadbeenlouderandlonger,likeIwasusedtoasakidlisteningtomyparentsdoingbattle.Bing’swalkingawayinsilencebuggedme.Actually,itonlymademeangrier.Igrabbedmycoat,openedthekitchendoor,andwhenIpulleditshut…Islammedtheshitoutofit.

FIFTEENASTHEFANTURNS

NOTONLYissilenceoneofBing’stoolsagainstwhateverandwhomever,shealsousesmeditationtohelprighthership,ifandwhenitlists.Sheusuallysitsanhourmostmornings,butthatparticularafternoonsheneededanothersessiontodealwithmybeinganass.

Forme,throwingalegoveraHarleyandridingintothesunsetdoesmuchthesamething.Thethrob,pulse,andrumbleofthosegrandoldenginessoothesmysoul.ButwewerenotinConnecticut,andnobodyaroundBlackMountainhadaHarleythatIknewof,soIwasleftpacingthroughJean-Jacques’fields,grindingmyteethforbeingajerkandcussinglouderandlouderthefartherIgotfromthehouse.Iwasgalledtothinkwhatamessourgreatturn-keydealhadturnedinto.AturnofthekeyintofreakingChâteauPoubelle!

THENEXTday,lettingourstormcloudspassandatBing’ssuggestion,we

tookanotherrunatthatsweethousewe’ddrooledover,LaMaisonFramboise.Sinceitwastotallyrehabbed,itwasawayoutofourmessandtostillstayinFrance.Jean-Jacques’dealhadneverbeenrescinded.Wecouldwithdrawanytime.Maybethattimehadcome.

TrudgingbackintotheBlackMountainnotaire’soffice,weunfortunatelylearnednothinghadchanged.Thelittleoldladystillrefusedtogiveanygardenoranyotherrightstoabuyer,foreignordomestic.Backtosquareone,soBingandIdiscussedwhetherornotweshouldcallJean-Jacquesonhisoffertobuyusoutatanytime.

Thatevening,atsixPMattheirestate,wewalkedaroundthepooltothebighouseforaperitifs.Ididn’tknowaboutBing,butIfeltlikeapeasantcomingtohislord,hatinhand.Buttheissuehadtobeaddressed.Whatwehadbeenpromisedhadnothappened.Wehadarighttopullout.Sobeit.

AsJean-Jacquestookabottleofmuscatinonehandandhissilverwithgoldinlaidtire-bouchon(corkscrew)intheother,Igottothepoint.

“Jean-Jacques,whenthisprojectbegan,yousaidifBingandIwereunhappywithitanywherealongtheway,youandLailawouldbuyusout.Doesthatstillstand?”

Myquestioncamejustashedrovethescrewintothecork.WithaB-movieflat-eyedglanceinmydirection,hestartedtotwist.

“ButKen,youhavenotpaidmeforthehouseinthefirstplace.IunderstandyoupaiddeGaillacthestart-upfee,butsofarthebulkofthemoneyhascomefromLailaandme.”Therewasanedgetothewayhesaidthis.Ifeltmyguttightening.

“Jean-Jacques—”ButbeforeIcouldsayanythingmore,he

interruptedasifhe’dnotpausedinthefirstplace.

“Andthingshavechanged.Unfortunately,wehaverunintosomeproblemsinLondon.Toocomplicatedtogointo,butsomepreviouslytrustedassociateshavebeentamperingwiththeaccounts.RatherthancontinueourfinancingofrueBasque,wearegoingtohavetoaskyouforthemoneyweputuptothenotairestartingthingsoff.Sorry.”

Thescrewwastightintothecorknow.Heappliedpressure,leveringitfromthebottlewithapop!

“Muscat,”hesaid,thoughtomeitsoundedabitmoreliketouché.We’dbeenhad.

Dinnerwasnotthelaughfêteofthenightbefore.WhenIstartedtalkingaboutwhatBingandIhadrunintoatthehouseandwhatourto-dolistindicated,thebestwaytoproceedandsoforth,Lailasaid,witharollofhereyes,“Can’twetalkaboutsomethingotherthanthehouse?Wehadsuchfunlastnight.Ken,befunnyagaintonight.”

Iwasn’tfunny,thoughIthoughtalotofwhathadbeengoingoncertainlywas.WhyhadtheKurtzespushedusintothisinthefirstplace,enticingusintobuyingnumber9,onlytosuddenlybailout?Originallythey’dsaidthemoneywasofnoimportance.Itwasnotalargeamount,tinyactually.Itcouldhardlymakeorbreakthefortunesofsuchawealthycouple,nomatterhowdiretheLondonsituation.Whatwasgoingon?

Beforeleavingtoreturntotheguesthouse,Iwrotethemthecheck.Ididn’tseehowwecoulddootherwise.Theywerereneging,noquestionaboutthat.Asombermoment,almostembarrassing,butforthesakeofthefriendship,shreddingasitwas,weweren’tabouttofightoverit.

LATER,TUCKEDunderthecovers,Bingsaid,“Ithinkitwillbetootensetostayaroundherefortheweekend.Whydon’twedrivetotheMediterraneanforSaturdaynight?Colliouresisawonderfulartyvillagebythesea.Let’sgothere,justgetaway.”

Forme,beingbehindthewheelofacarwassecondbesttohangingontothehandlebarsofabike.Theplumberswouldn’tlandinCarcassonneuntilMonday.Wedidn’thaveanythingholdingusback.Weneededtimetothink.Whatthehell.

“Greatidea.Let’sdoit,”Isaid,reachingforthebedsidelight.

“I’llsetthealarmforsix,”Bingsaid,throwingbackthecoverswithabigsmilelightingherface.

EARLYUPandoutontheroad.Wewouldstopforcoffeeandcroissantssomewherealongtheway.Thesparkofanticipationsoothedtheday’swoundsandeasedtheweightofourgrowingmistrustandconfusion.

AsIsaid,Ilikedriving.Binglikesnavigating.Andsheenjoyspickingspotstostopalongtheway.I’mperfectlyhappyjusttopointthecarinanydirectionandsteponthegas.InFrance,Ididn’tcarewherewewent,sinceeverybendintheroadledtoanothertreasure,anotherpleasantexperience.Aboutanhourout,havingfinishedadelightfulpetit-déjeuneratalargeaire,orroadsideeatingandgasstop,nearCarcassonne,wesetofftoinvestigatesomeofthesmallerroadsleadingto…whocared?

Aswemotoredcontentedlyalong,IaskedBing,“Doyourealizehowourbodiesareintotalsynch?”

Sheraisedaneyebrow.“What’sthatsupposedtomean?”

“Simple.YouneverhavetogotothepottybeforeIdo,andvice

“Simple.YouneverhavetogotothepottybeforeIdo,andviceversa.Thinkofhowimportantthatis.Forcompatibility.”

“Ihaven’tthoughtofanythingelseallmorning,”shesaiddryly.

“Okay,picturethis—twopeopletravelingtheroadwaysoflifetogether.Thatshouldbeatimeofwonderandjoy.Butwhatifthetwohavedifferent-sizedbladders?”

BinglookedoveratmelikeIwasoutofmymind.

“Whatifoneofthemneedstostopwhiletheotherdoesn’t?Onepersonwouldstarttofeelembarrassed,inadequate,filledwithdoubt,whiletheotherwouldfeelsuperior,perhapsstarttogloat.Whatwouldthatdotoamarriage?”

“IthinkIneedtostop,”Bingsaid.“Youputpeeingonmymind.I’vegottogo,quickly.”

“Good.Metoo.”WhathadIdone?“Keepaneyeoutforoneofthosepissotièreinthenextvillage.”

IoftengavethanksfortheFrenchsystemoflayingoutvillages.Nomatterhowsmall,there’sapostoffice,busstop,telephone,perhapsapatisserie,butdefinitelyapissotière.WeweresomewherebeyondNarbonne.Thevillagewe’denteredwasdarkandrustic,aVisigothleftoverperhaps.

Idroveupbesideafellowpushingababycarriage,probablyhisdaughteronatricycleahead.IbonjouredinmybestFrenchandhesmiled.Iasked,“S’ilvousplaît,monsieur,oùestlepissoir?”

Noproblemuptothatpoint.Thenheanswered.Goodheavens,hesoundedlikeachopperpullingawayfromalight.Therumble.Thethroatyroar,butIheardnodiscerniblewords.Amazing.Henoddedandindicatedaleftdownanevensmallersidestreet.Iflaggeddownanotherfellow.Muchthesamething.

fellow.Muchthesamething.

“Kenny,thisisgettingserious.Ineedtostop,”Bingsaid.

“Tellmeaboutit.”Myeyesweremisting.

Stoppinganywherehereforarusticawasoutofthequestion.Toomanypeople.Then,bythegraceofGod,asaintonabicyclerolledupbesidemyopenwindow.Hemusthavebeentrailingbehindandfiguredoutourproblem.Heindicatedforustofollow.

Hewasfast.ItwasliketheTourdeFrancedownthecobblestonestreet.Fromthewayhesailedthroughstopsignsandbarreledthroughintersections,itwasclearheknewbladders.Finally,withajabbingmotion,hepointedtohisrightforustoturndownthenextroadattheapproachingintersection.Iwavedmyhandoutthewindow.Yes!Understood!Wecouldtakeitfromhere.

Hepumpedhisfistandwasgone.Whataguy.

Afterthecornerwecameskitteringintowhatappearedtobeanabandonedbusterminal.Onoursideoftheroadfacinganemptybuswasthepissotière!Hallelujah.Butitwasaone-holer,withoutadoor!

Whattodo?ThinkMarineCorps.

“Everything’sgoingtobeallright,“IassuredBing.“I’llrunthecartightagainstthewall.You’llbeabletoopenthedoorintothetoilet.I’llleavethecarthereasadoorwhileIrunacrossbehindthebus.”

BinghadjustenoughspacetotwistoutandgetdowntobusinesswhileIpulledonthebrakeandswitchedofftheengine.ShewashomefreeandIwasonmyway.Voilà!Missionaccomplished.

WhenIgotbacktothecar,Bingwascomfortablysittinginthenavigator’sseat,mapinhand,asmileonherface.SheturnedtomeasIgotin,butbeforeIcouldreachfortheignitionkey,sheheldupherrighthand,palmopen,andwesmackedoffacrackinghighfive.Wehadjust

hand,palmopen,andwesmackedoffacrackinghighfive.WehadjustscoredanotherteamvictoryintheneverendingWaroftheAdultBladder.

EARLYSEASONinCollioures,aMediterraneanfishingvillagefilledwithartists,galleries,andcharm,hadbeenanecessaryrespite.Welcomingaweekend’sseparationfromthechaosofrueBasqueandthequestionssurroundingJean-JacquesandLaila,we’drechargedourbatteries.

WegotbacktotheKurtze’sfarmlateSundayevening.Aswestartedinthroughtheestate’sgate,Bingsighed.“Theirlightsareon.InJean-Jacques’office.Itlookslikethetwoofthemhavetheirheadstogetherinthere.Something’sgoingon.”

“They’realwaysuplate,”Isaid.

“Butnotusuallyintheoffice.I’dlovetoknowwhat’shappening.”

“Strangepeople,”Isaid.“Allthechurchbusiness,proselytizingandattimesreallyhelpingpeople,butnowthis.Whenwefirstmetthem,Jean-JacquessaidsomethingIhadassumedwasjustajoke.HetoldmethatyouandIwereworthfivethousandfrancsapiecetohimifwejoinedtheirtemple.Thewaythey’reactingnow,maybehewasn’tkidding.”

“Whoknows?”Bingreplied.“Butwhocareseither?Ijustneedagoodnight’ssleep.”

“Here,here.”

Butourmalaisewasn’toveryet.Turningthelightoninthekitchen,wefoundtheflooracoupleofinchesdeepinwater.Hadweleftafaucetrunning?Hadthetoiletoverflowed?Whathadwedonetocausethismess?AfterwadingaroundIfoundapinprickholeinthecoppercoldwaterpipeunderthesink.Notuncommon.Thiswillhappenwhencheap

copperpipesareattackedbyacidicwaterfortwenty,thirtyyears.Butwhynow?

I’ddonealotofplumbingovertheyears.Builtmyfirsthousemyself(anotherbookinthepipeline,nopunintended)andrenovatedothers,soIwasabletoshutdownthesink’scoldwater,squirtadabofall-purposeglueonaplasticdiskIcutfromacup,pressthatoverthetinyhole,andthentorqueittightwithapieceofwireandpliersIfoundunderthesink.Iwrappedducttapetightlyarounditallandturnedthewaterbackon—nomoreleak!Sinceourplumberswouldcomeintotownthenextday,I’ddoarealfixusingtheirstuff.IwenttoallthistroubleincaseLailaorJean-Jacquecameintothatkitchenwhilewewereawayandneededtousthetap.(Guest’sparanoia.)Forthenight,Ishutthelineoffagain,thenBingandIspentmuchoftheeveningsoppingupandsqueegeeingthewholemessdry.

OhhowIhatedbeingaguest…

SIXTEENIFITDRIPS,CORKIT

MONDAYMORNINGIdrovetotheairportatCarcassonnetopickupourBritishplumbers.Bingstayedbehindhopingtosketchsomehorsesinthenearbyfields.Anyway,thecarwouldbefullwithme,MisterCork,hishelper,plustheirtools.

Thedaywasclearandbrisk.Ashadeunder50degreesFahrenheit.Wherewassummer?MostofthepeoplearrivingfromEnglandlookedtobeFrenchnationalsreturningfromweekendinginLondon.Mostworejacketsorsweaters.ThoughsouthwesternFrancehasshortandgenerallymildwinters,asI’vesaid,evenlatespringwasunpredictable.Verywarmoneday,freezingrainthenext.

Mr.Corkandhisyouthfulassistance,LeathanBobb,whomIassumedtobeBobLeathan(theFrenchputthesurnamefirst),hadnotgottenwordaboutthechillyweatheranddescendedfromtheaircraftinbrightlycoloredAlohashirts.ThoughMr.Bobbhadondarkslacks,his

employerhaddonnedneonbrightBermudashortsandworkboots.Iprayedheplumbedbetterthanhedressed.

Theirpersonalluggagewasminimal,thougheachhadacrushinglyheavymetaltoolboxdisplayinglargestickersannouncing—IFITDRIPS,CORKIT!NIGELCORK,PLUMBERTOTHEKING.Nigellaterexplainedthathisroyalserviceclaimwasbasedonhisgrandfather’sdrunkenboastofhavingoncebeencalledtoBuckinghamonshortnotice.Nowordonwhatyearitwas.Anyway,fornowit’s“Godsavethequeen.”

“Sunnyday,”werehisfirstwordstome.“YoumustbetheYank.IsaystoLeathanhere,thatbloke’sthelook.AndIwascorrect,wun’tI?NigelCorkandmyassistantLeathan,atyourservice.”

Hishandshakewasfirm.Ifeltthatmadehimtrustworthy.“Ken.JustcallmeKen,orMacifyoulike,”Isaid,turningtotheyoungerman.

“I’mfreezingmebluddyarseuff,”theladannounced,hishandsasclosetohissidesasthey’dgo.

“Stoopwhining,Leathan,andshakeMr.KennyMac’shand,”Corkdirected,greeneyessparklingfromunderbushybrows.Cork’sheadwascoveredwithathickthatchofgrayhairaggressiveinitscommitmenttogrowth.Otherthananosewithasmallcrooktoit,hewasahandsomeman:aboutmyheightatfive-ten,sturdilybuilt,andclearlyimpervioustotheweather.

“Mr.Leathan,”Isaid,holdingoutmyhandtotheyoungfellow.

“Bobb,”hesaid,pressinghisgnarly,callousedoneintomine.

“DoyougobyBoborRobert?”Iasked,wantingtogetofftoagoodstart.

“Leathan,”hereplied,squintingabit.

“ButnotMisterLeathan,Igather,”Isaidmuddlingly.

“ButnotMisterLeathan,Igather,”Isaidmuddlingly.

“Mr.Bobbitis,”heexplained,leavingmetotallyconfused,muchlikeLouCostelloinhisfamous“Who’sonFirst?”routine.

“Isyourcarnearby?”Nigelasked,bailingmeout.

“Notfar.Haulyourstufftothecurb.I’llmeetyouthereinacoupleofminutes,”Isaid,settingoffatahalfjogtowardtheparkinglot.

We’dgottenthebigmetaltoolboxesin,butthelidwouldn’tquiteclose.Fortunately,Ihadacoupleofbungeecordstoholdthetrunklidfrombobbingupanddown.YoungMr.Bobb,whomIfinallyfiguredouttobeLeathanBobb,wasinthebackseatleaningonthesmallsuitcases.Bynowhewastightlyzippedintoaparkathecolorofgangrene.

Nigelwasarock.Nojacketforhim.Noway.HesawthisjaunttosouthernFrance,withpayplusexpenses,asavacation.Andhewouldtreatitassuch.Sunnyskies.AYankwithmoney—whichwashisdefinitionofYanksanyway—grogwithfootballorrugbyonthetellieevenings,wifenowherenear,Froggiefoodhopefullynottoobad;allinallaprettygoodtimeaheadnomatterhowyoucutit.Right,mate?Sohe’dwornhispartyshirt,andhe’dbroughtoneforLeathantoo.

IputtheBritsintheAbbeyHotel,withinwalkingdistanceofthehouse.Happily,sinceBingandInowownedpropertyinBlackMountain,thehotelgaveusadiscountforguestswelodgedthere.

Oncethetwohadlaidintheirstuff,wetookthemandtheirtoolboxestonumber9.NoneofLaurant’smenhadshownupyet.Iwasnotpleased.Butwemadethebestofthetimedoingalotofmeasuringforlyinginpipes.Mr.Corkwasefficient.Usinganoversizednotepad,hedrewdiagramsofthewaterandgaslayouts.Hecheckedthesoil,founditacidic,sosaidtoforgetcopper,he’dgowiththenewsemi-rigidplastic

forthesub-floorfeed.Neverrot.NevergiveoutandwasthelatestthingapprovedbytheEU.Thewatercompanywouldloveusforit,headded.

Leathandidthelegwork,runningeverywherewithhisendofthetapemeasure,muchlikeadogonafrictionleash.Corkjotteddownthenumberswithhisfat,flatpencilprobablyleftoverfromthebattleofBritain.Streetfloor.Secondfloor.Thirdfloor.Outbackacrossthenastylittlecourtyardtothehell-holerabbithutchthatwouldonedaybemyoffice.Iwasamazedhowquicklythesetwomenspeckedthingsout.Then,workingfromthediagram,CorkjotteddownallthepipeLsandTsand45-degreefittingshe’dneed;couplings,shutoffs,faucets,sinks,showerheads,tub;thewholeschmere.Bing,bang,boom.Hewasgood.

Whenthelastrequiredcouplingwasrecorded,hetoreoffthesheets,handedthemtome,andwithasmilesaid,“IhopeyouspeaksomeFroggy.I’llneedthisstufffirstsparrowhopinthemorning.”

SpeaksomeFrench?Nosweat.Right.Sayaprayer.

REVEL,WHEREtheSaturdayfarmers’marketwas,hadtwoplumbingsupplyhouses.ThefirstwasveryU.S.looking—bigwindows,advertisingalloverthefront,slickandimpersonal.Iexpectedaplacelikethatwouldn’tbeinterestedintryingtosortoutaforeigner’sbadbabble,soIpokedaroundforthekindthatwouldputanarmaroundamumblingAmerican’sshoulderandwalkhimthroughtheordeal.Happily,ontheroadtoSt.Félix,IfoundwhatIwaslookingfor.Itwashalfthesizeoftheother,abitbeatup,withplumbingtrucksoutfrontlookinglikethey’dseenbetterdays;IsensedIcouldmakeitthere.

Binghadpreppedme.Earlythatmorningwe’ddugintoourdictionariesforthenounsI’dneed.Pipe(tuyau),faucet(robinet),wire

(fil),bathtub(baignoire),washbasin(lavabo),everythingNigelCorkhadlisted.IfiguredIhadenoughverbsleftoverfromanoldhighschooltextwe’dthoughttobringalongtoreallyputthosenounsthroughtheirpaces.

Confidentlyswingingthroughthedoorintotheshop,IfeltabitlikeDukeWayne.Thetwomenbehindthecounterturnedtowardme,asdidthethreeorfourplumbertypesinfront.Icouldhearapindrop.Myconfidencefellwithit.

Thefellowfirstinlinewasstoutandshort,notmuchtallerthanthecounter.Hehadawetcigarhangingfromthecornerofhissaggingmouth.Theguynexttohimwastall,thin,andsportedthekindofbeakthatwouldmakeaheronproud.Behindthosetwowasafellowwearinganeyepatch,andanothersoheavilybeardedhelookedlikeagiantpussywillow.ForamomentIthoughtI’dwalkedontothesetofthatbarsceneinStarWars.

ThinkingbacktoourfirstdayinBlackMountain,thelunch-timeatClaude’s,itoccurredtometobonjourtheshop.Idid,anditworked.Everyonebonjouredinreturn.Camera,action,andbusinessrolledbacktonormal.Unfortunatelythough,whenmyturnatthecountercame,mymindwentblank.Nonouns,noverbs,consonants,zip,zero,nada.

“Monsieur?”theproprietorasked.

“Bon…jour,”Imanagedagain.

“Bonjour,”hereturned,raisinganeyebrow.“Oui?”

“JesuisAmerican,”poppedoutofmymouth.

“EtjesuisFrançais,”hecountered.

Thiswasnotgoingtobeeasy.

“MonFrançaisesttrèspauvre,”Isaid.

“MonFrançaisesttrèsbon,”hereplied,leavingmeinalinguisticcul-de-sac.

Afteramomentortwooflookinglikethatdamneddeerintheheadlights,Istartedrecitingmystoreofnouns.Robinet,tuyau,thewholelot.Butnoverbs.I’dforgottenmyverbs!IpulledoutCork’sdiagrams,sketches,measurementsforlengthsofpipe(plastic)andjoints(brass),TsandLs,allthatsweetstuff(thankfullyincentimetersandmillimeters).Therewasanodfromacrossthecounter,puttinghopeinmyheart.

Toformalizewhatwastofollow,thefellowgavemehisfullname.IthoughthisfirstnamewasRoget,pronouncedRog-jeh,becausethatcamelast.HeintroducedtheothermansimplyasBernard.Thatgavemethepeckingorder,soImadethebossMonsieurRogetandBernard,Bernard.

Thetwoswungintoaction.Theyzippedintothepartsbinsandequipmentlockers,hauleddownlargerollsofplasticpipefromaloft,actuallyjoggedfromoneendofthestorageareatotheotherandbacktothedeskagain,stackingboxesandcratesofstuffweneededbythefrontdoor.Itwaslikewatchingaballet.Wheneverythingwasassembled,alotofarm-waving,cheek-puffing,andair-blowingfollowed—whichIdecipheredtomeantheywoulddelivereverythingtorueBasqueby8AMthenextmorning.Fantastic.

Itwasmyturntosmile,shrug,andpencil-sketchwhereourhouseinBlackMountainwas.Itwasanembarrassingprocesstohavetogothrough,butitgotthejobdone.Ohjoyfulday.

SEVENTEENWORKING…INFRANCE

TUESDAYMORNINGthingsfinallystartedinearnestatthehouse.BingandIwereatnumber9by8AM.ForamomentIwasalittleputoutthatnoneofdeGaillac’stroopshadarrived,butBingmadethepointImissed.

“Kenny,BlackMountainisavillage.Everythingispackedcloselytogether.Starthammeringbeforepeopleareupandyouwouldbreakthesocialcontract.Laurant’speopleprobablywon’tbearounduntilnine.”

Whywasn’tmymindsological?

Bernard,fromtheplumbingshop,arrivedtodeliverourstuffonlymomentslater.Wewereputtingourkeyinthefrontdoorashedroveupinagoofylittletruck,thekindInspectorClouseaudroveintoswimmingpools.Amomentlater,NigelCorkcamewithLeathanintow.Everyonepitchedinunloading,andinnotimetheplumbingjobwasreadyto

start.Andatnine,asBingpredicted,Laurant’screwrumbledin.

AsNigelandLeathanlaidouttheirday’swork,BingandIwenttointroduceourselvestoLaurant’smen,topdogdown.Figuringwhotheforemanwastooksomedetectivework.Fourweredressedmostlyinblue,France’sworkercolor,buttwooftheseweretooyoungtobeforemen.Onemanhadonbluetrousersandawhitewoolsweater:agealonemadehimacandidateforchief.Buttherewasanotherfellowinhismid-thirtieswearingnoblueatall.AbovehisgraychinoslackshehadaredcottonsweaterwiththeoldEnglishletteringannouncingUNIVERSITYOFPRINCETON,asopposedtothe“PrincetonUniversity”manyknowandlove.Chanceswerehehadnotboughtitatthecampusstore.Buthedidhavethelookofaforeman.

We’dalreadylearnedetiquette’simportancehere.Whenaskingdirectionsonestartedwithbonjour,thens’ilvousplaît,beforegettingtothemeatofthequestion.Thisindicatedyouwerebienélevé—wellraised.Americansaresousedtojustblastingawaywithour“Whereisthisorthat”rightoffthebatthatwegrateonFrenchsensitivities.So,addressingasubordinateasthechiefinfrontofthemanactuallyinauthoritycouldquicklysourrelationswiththeseguys.Wewantedtogetitright.

Goingwithage,IwalkeduptoMonsieurWhite-wool-sweater,putoutmyhand,andsaid,“Bonjour,jem’appelleKeneticiestmafemme,Bing.”

“BonjourMonsieuretMadame,jem’appelleAntoine…”

BingandIbothmissedhissurname,whichgotlostintheblurofhisthickSpanish/Tarneseaccent.Hehadaneyes-loweringroughnessabouthim,asifhedidn’tlikehavingtotalktoaforeignersoearlyinthe

morning,orperhapseverforthatmatter.

WhileBingandIbumbledalong,Ifounditinterestingthateverythinghesaidtousseemeddirectedexclusivelytome.AsifBingdidn’texist.Theothermenactedthesameway.Whywasthat,orwasitjustmyimagination?

ThentheyoungmanintheUniversityofPrincetonsweatshirtsteppeduptoshakehands,introducinghimselfasEricsomebody,anothersurnamepromptlyforgottenbyyourstruly.Andtheothertwofellowswereintroduced,theirnamesalsolosttothickaccents.

IwentoverandgrabbedCorkandLeathan,havingtohalf-dragthemacrosstheroomtomeettheFrenchmen.Clearlybothgroupswerereticenttomix,eachstudyingtheothersuspiciously.WhatthehellareEnglishplumbersdoinghere?IcouldreadintheFrenchmen’seyes;aswellasthereverse,WhatthehellareweEnglishplumbersdoinginthelandofFrogs?

Linguistically,CorkandLeathanwereevenmorechallengedthanBingandI.NorcouldtheFrenchmenspeakanyEnglish.Allofwhichindicatedwe’dassembledacrackerjackteamcapableofroughlyzerocommunication.Itwasgoingtobeinterestingtoseehowthisfiascoplayedout.

Eric,welearned,wastheforeman.Antoine,however,alongtimefriendofLaurant’s,hadelderstatesmanstatus,furthersmudgingthelinesofcommandandcontrol.

“Fundaysahead,”Bingsaidwithawrysmile.

DuringtheintroductionsIrealizedweneededawaytokeepnamesstraight,soIdecidedtomakeupmyownforeverybody.Ericwiththe

redsweaterconjuredEric-the-Red.Icouldrememberthat,orMonsieurRouge,whichIsometimesshortenedtojustRouge.ForsomereasonIhadadevilofatimerememberingAntoine.WithmynewtacticinmindIgavehimajob-relatedname,Placo.Antoinewastheplacoplâtre,ordrywallspecialist.

OneofthetwoyoungmenwasBruno.Earlyonheimpresseduswiththewayhetookthecrappiestjobsandnevercomplained.He’devensmileashedidthework,efficientlyandwell.So,feelingsorryfortheguy,Isaidtohimonetime,“Bruno,yougetallthebadjobs,butyoudothemverywell.Trulyyouarenumberone.”

He’dsmiled,nodded,andsaid,“Avotreservicetoujours,MonsieurKen.”

Thenamesstuck.BrunobecameNuméroUn,orNumber1.Whenhehadanotherguyworkingwithhim,thesubordinatebecameNuméroDeux,orNumberTwo.(Ofcourse,whenPlacohadahelper,hewouldbecalledPlacoDeux.)

Thismadeeverythingeasier,andeverybodyseemedtogetakickoutoftheforgetfulAmerican.Whatgrewtobeespeciallycharmingaboutthewholedealwas,afterafewweeks,BingandIoverheardconversationsthatwentsomethinglikethis—Hey,whereisRouge?Oh,IsawhimwithPlaco.No,PlacoiswithPlacoDeux.Hey,NuméroUn,whereisRouge?

Afteraweeksidebysidewiththetwocamps,itwascleartheEnglishandtheFrenchworkdifferently.TherearethosewhosaypeoplefromnorthernEurope,alongwithAmericans,Canadians,andnortherntypes,tendtobelinearandresult-oriented,whiletheFrench,Italians,Spanish,andothersfromsouthernEuropearemoreconceptual,philosophical,

andothersfromsouthernEuropearemoreconceptual,philosophical,andemotional.Workingwithbothgroupsseemedtoconfirmit.

NigelandLeathanhitthegroundrunning.Thatfirstafternoonthey’dwrittendownallthematerialsformetofetch.IfIdidmyjobtheycoulddotheirs.Theywerethereateightsharpfromdayone,everyday,untilthejobwasfinished.Theyworkedstraightthroughwithonlyasandwichforlunch.Finishingateightintheevening,they’dwalktothehotelforshowers,andthenbacktoClaude’scaféforfood,grog,andthetellie.Andtheycompletedtheprojectadayearly—seven,noteight.Theytooktheirpayandclockedoutinwhatamountedtoone-fourththetimeLauranthadestimatedforthejob.Then,afterabiggoodbyedinneratafancyrestaurant,theygotontheirplaneandweregone,witha“Thankyouverymuch.Callifyouhaveanythingmoreforus.Cheerio.”TheFrenchcrewhadadifferentplaybook.Theirdaystartedatnine.Theneverythingstoppeddeadinitstracksatnoon,justlikeithadatnoonthatfirstdaywearrivedinBlackMountain.ThemenwenteithertotheirhomesortothekitchenandloungeLauranthadaddedtohisdepotfortheircomfort.Aftertwohoursoffoodandrelaxation,they’dbebackonthejob,workinguntil5or5:30atthelatest.ThatmeantthebestwecouldexpectfromtheFrenchcrewwassixandahalfhoursaday.Butthatwasn’tall.

AfterIgotonLaurant’scaseabouthowslowlythingsweremoving,hedrovemetohisoffice.Unrollingascrollofpaperonalongdrawingboard,hetackeditdownsoIcouldseeafullfourmonthsinonesweep.Hetookaredpencilandshadedtheweekends.Hedidthesamewiththeholidays.Iwasamazedtoseetherewereaboutasmanyholidaysasweekends!Itgotworse.Thedayoftheweekeachholidayfellonwasimportant.TheFridayandMondayonesobviouslyledtothree-day

weekends.But,andthiswasabigbut,theThursdayandTuesdaycelebrationsofanythingfromNationalDogCollarDaytoKissaToadTuesdaymeantsomeworkweeksmaxedoutatthreedays.Then—vacations.Everyworkergetssixweeks.So,inthosefourmonths,ontopofeverythingelse,athirdofLaurant’sworkforcewasoffthepropertyforamonthandahalf.Andthegovernmentwastalkingaboutaddinganothertwoweekstothat.

Oneday,withthehelpofJean-Jacques,Laurantsummeditallup,saying,“MonsieurKenandBing,thiscountryisonlyfortheworkers.Wesmallbusinessmenhavenochance.Iamstupidtokeeptrying.Thesecrazyrulesmakeitimpossibletogetthingsdone,andthentheytaxawaymyprofittopayforalltheworkerbenefits.Ihavenovacations.Ihavetobehereallthetimetokeepthingsgoing.IfIleaveforaweek,nothinggetsdone.Ofcourse,asyousee,theworkhardlygetsdoneanyway.Noonecares.EveryonethinksIamcrazyforgettingupset.TheysayIactlikeanAmerican!Ishouldsaytohellwithitandjustbeanotherworkerwhothegovernmentmakessuredoesnothavetowork.IshouldgotoAmerica.ButIdon’tspeakEnglish.IhaveseenyoutwolearningFrench.Nothingisimpossible…exceptperhapsrunningabusinessinFrance.”

Butwesawrainbowstoo.Idoubtanycountryhasbeenassuccessfulwithquality-of-lifeissuesasFrance.OtherthansmallbusinessmenlikeLaurant,thepeoplearelaidback,comfortable,andconfidentofthelivesaheadofthem.Theydon’thavethekindofmoneyAmericanshave,buttheydon’tneedit.Theirfuture,theiroldage,issafe—sotheyfeelsecure,andwiththatsecuritycomespeaceofmind.

Thoughtaxesarehigh,theirhealthcaresystemseesthemthrough.Becauseonegenerationisnotdependentonthenextforfinancial

Becauseonegenerationisnotdependentonthenextforfinancialsupport,thereseemstobeatighterweavetothefabricofavillage’slifethanweexperienceintheStates.AcaseinpointisthedailysceneatthefountaininBlackMountain,whichiscircledbycomfortablebenches.Acrossfromitisaretirementhome—abeautifullyrestoredplace,wellrun,withreportedlythebestwinecellararound.Eachdayaswepassedwewouldseeoldfolkssittingonbenches,orevenupintheirwindows,watchingtheirchildren’schildrenridingtheirtricycles,roller-skating,orplayingbounce-ball.Theytalkedtogether,calledouttooneanother,laughedandsharedstories;threegenerationsenjoyingeachother’scompany.Realcommunity.

Thevillage’sshopkeepersranstorestheirparentsandgrandparentshadrun.WemetpeoplewhosehistorieswentbackbeyondCharlemagne.SurroundingBlackMountainwerefarmsthatseemedtopredatetimeitself.Richsoil.Richfarmers.Animals,crops,fields,andstreamssoalivewefeltbathed,immersedinitall.Songbirdseverywhere,partoftheflowers’bloom.Somuchlifeinsync…exceptforLaurant’sandmine.

EIGHTEENANDTHEWALLCAMETUMBLINGDOWN

ACOUPLEOFdaysafterNigelCork’sarrival,Laurant’smenstartedwhackingoutthesecondfloorwallbetweenthetwosmallroomsoverlookingthecourtyard.Thiswouldgiveusonegood-sizedmasterbedroom.Theceilingshadtocomedowntoo,toexposetheoldbeamsandgiveitallamedievalflavor.Wetriednottothinkaboutthestormofmousedroppingsthatshowereddownonusasweworkedwithoutmasks.Greenwichalloveragain.

Lauranthadadumptruckrunupontothesidewalkinfrontofthehouse,blockingaslittleofrueBasqueaspossible.NuméroUn(Bruno)andNuméroDeuxwouldshovelthepilesofrazedplasteroutthewindowsintothetruckbelow.OfcourseBrunowasexpertatit,arching

hisshovels-fullneatlythrough,hardlybrushingawindowframe.Deux,however,wasanovice.Atonepointhisshovelfulslammedsmackoffthebedroomwall.Themessitmadeofthewallwasn’timportantbecausePlacowasgoingtoreplaceitanyway,butitwasaharbingerofthingstocome.Ashorttimelater,anotherwaywardtosstookoutsixpanesofglassfromonewindow,whichcrasheddownintothetruckbelow.ThoughDeuxgotalotofcriticismfromBruno,anddamnnearashovelontheheadfromBing,hemanagedtodothesamethingagainlater,takingoutthesixpanesoftheadjoiningwindow.Afterthat,Bing,gettinggentlyintoRouge’sface,gotDeuxreassigned.

Bytheendofourrestoration,twenty-sevenpaneswerebroken.Thoughthecostofdamagelikethatgotadjusted,Laurantwasshorthanded.ItfelltoBingtoreplacethem.Amiserabletask.Theglasshadbeensetinmasticaboutone-hundredyearsago,whichhadhardenedtostone.Tryingtochipthestuffout,workingaroundtheimbeddedglass’ssharpedges,causedherlotsofcuts.Butshehunginthere.LauranthadBruno.IhadBing.

Asbadasthingswere,atleastwewerelearningmoreFrencheveryday.Especiallyhowtocurse.ThefirstrealopportunityformetoshowmystuffcamewhenwefoundtwonovicepaintersIhadhiredweregrosslyincompetent.Laurant’speoplewerebusyonthesecondfloor,andwiththethirdfinishedbutforwiring,paintingcouldstartthere.Apairofyoungapprenticesworkingnextdoorofferedtodothejob.Cheaply.Sincecheapismysecondfavoritewordnexttofree,anddespiteBingsuggestingcaution,Ihiredthem.

I’dalreadyusedthesamecriteriagettinganelectrician.TheLaRousse&Filstruckhadstoppedinfrontofthehouseupthestreetafew

daysearlierandI’dgrabbedChristophe,thesonofLaRousse,andaskedifhecouldhandletheelectricalwork.Thoughverybusy,heagreedtofitusinaroundtheedgesford’argentliquide(cash).Hesaidthatwaywouldbemeilleurmarché—cheaper.Hired.

Thefirstdayandahalfour(BingwouldsayKenny’s)paintersseemedtoknowwhattheyweredoing.Theyspreadtarps,gaveusthenamesoftherequiredsupplies,andtolduswheretogoforthem.BingandIdutifullyhittheroadtogetwhatwasneeded,justasIhadforCork.

AcoupleoftownsawaythereisahomesupplyplacecalledMonsieurBricolage.Thoughwe’dfeltmarginallyconfidentheadingthere,oncewalkingtheaisleswewerelikebabesinthewood.Itwasfrustratingnotbeingabletoaskquestionsproperly,muchlessunderstandtheanswerswe’dgetwhenwetried.ThenwemetMadameBricolage,whichisthenameBinggaveher.

MmeBricolage,actuallyBlendine,spokenoEnglish,butsheseemedabletoreadmindsinanylanguage.Sufferingoursputtersandwaves,she’dtakeusbythehand,marchusaroundtheplace,aislebyaisle,untilwehadeverythingweneeded.Whatadearperson.

Withthatmissionaccomplished,wereturnedtorueBasqueandfoundthingshumming.Orcrashingmightbemoreaccurate.Withthesecondfloorinteriorwallsmasheddowntoallowforthemasterbedroom,thefirstfloorwasundergoingthesametreatment.Butdangerouslyso.

AsIopenedthefrontdoorandBingstartedin,herattentionwaselsewhere.Iwasbehind,lookingoverhershoulder,andsawNuméroDeux’sraisedsledgehammerstartitsbackswingstraightforBing’shead.Igrabbedherbelt,yankingherback.Thesledgemissedher,butnotby

Igrabbedherbelt,yankingherback.Thesledgemissedher,butnotbymorethananinch.

“Whatareyoudoing?”shesaidsharply,eyesflashingasshespunbacktowardme.“Idonotappreciatebeingjerkedaround.Stopit.”

“Bing,younearlygotyourheadcavedin,”Itriedtoexplain.“Deux’ssledgehammerwouldhavedonethejobifIhadn’tpulledyouback.Givemeabreak.”

“I’mjusttellingyouI’mnotadogonaleash.Therearebetterwaystodothesethings.”

Shehadn’tseenhowcloseshe’dcometobeingseriouslyhurt,sonothingIsaidnowwouldmakeadifference.Ishutupandwalkedpasthercarryingtheboxofpaintcans,brushes,turpentine,tarps,andcaulkingtothepainterboyswaitingupstairs.

Reachingthetopofthestairs,IsawthatChristophetheelectricianwastheretoo.Ofcoursehewasshakinghisheadatthewaytheladswereworking,astheyinturnwereshakingtheirheadsatthewayhewasdoinghis.

Bingcameupbesideme.Iwantedtoputmyarmaroundher,butIsensedshewasstillinher“needspace”mode.Webothjuststoodtryingtodeciphertherepartee.Thenthechurchbellsrang.Allconversationstopped.Thethreestartedpastus.Wecouldhearthethumpofequipmenthittingthefloorbelowandthescrapeofbootsheadedouttothestreet.Lunchtime.AllFrancestoppedinitstracks.

BeforeanyonereachedthestairsIoffered,“Déjeuner?”

Christophedeclined.LikemostFrenchworkers,hewenthomeatnoon.Thepaint-splatteredboys,however,werehappytojoinus.Afreelunchwasafreelunch.

SittingdownatClaude’stheyexplained,asfaraswecouldunderstand,thatChristophewasn’trespectingtheirrequestthathenotbuggerupwhattheyhadjustsandedandprimed.Theyfeltheshouldstringhiswireswheretheyhadn’tyetworked,nottheotherwayaround.WewouldcrosscheckwithChristophe.Ofcoursewecouldhavemisunderstoodwhattheyweretryingtotellus,butBingandIpromised,asbestwecould,tocheckthingsout.WherewasJean-Jacqueswhenweneededhim?EspeciallysincehesaidheorLailawouldbethereeveryday.

LaurantdeGaillacappearedabout2PM.We’dtakenalikingtotheman’sstyle,thewayheworkedhardtofigureoutwhatweweretryingtosay.Hesortedthroughourmismatchedsubjectsandverbs,finallyrealizingmuchofthetimewewereactuallytryingtobefunny.He’dsaysomething.I’dmuddlethroughwhatIthoughtwasagreatcomeback.He’dstareblank-facedatmeforagoodtencount,rearrangingmybabbleintorealFrench…thencrackup.Bigboominglaughsfollowedbyretellingmylatestwitticismtosomeoneelse.There’dbeasecondroundofhowls,makingmefeelquitethecomedian.IsuspectedLaurantprettied-upmystuff.Probablyhewastherealcomedian,truthbeknown.

NeitherLaurantnorPlacothoughtourchoiceofpainterswasalaughingmatter,however.Theytookusuptothethirdfloorandpointedoutthesloppypriming.Itwastrue.Ihadn’tbeenpayingattention.Toobusywitheverythingelse.Sowehadatalkwiththeboys.Theyshrugged.SHRUGGED!Nowthatgotmegoing.Binghadputahandonmyarm.Icountedtoten,andthenIexplainedthatalltheirworkwouldhavetobedoneprofessionallyorwewouldfindotherstodoit.Simple

asthat.Ithoughttheygotthepicture.Thenextdayortwowouldtell.

THATNIGHT,drivingthroughasteadyrainbacktotheKurtzes,Bingaskedtheobvious.“Kenny,wherehasJean-Jacquesbeen?HesaidheandLailawouldbeon-sitealot.He’sthelinguist.Wherehashebeen?”

“Iaskedmyselfexactlythesamethingthisafternoon.MaybetheirproblemsinLondonareworsethanthey’vebeenlettingon.Lailaisalwaysonthephone,orgoingoverthestackofledgerstheyhave.Idon’tthinkshegoesdoor-to-doorwithJean-Jacquesanymoreeither.Whattheheckisgoingon?Thewholedealisgettingweird.”

“Maybesettingusupintheguesthouseistheirextramile,”Bingsaidwithashrug.

Iflippedfromhighbeamstolowbecauseofthethickeningfog.“Iftheyhadn’tmadeallthissoattractiveI’dagreewithyou,butthat’snothowthiswholeexercisestarted.Theypromisedalotmore.”

“You’rerightaboutthat.”Shenoddedasweapproachedourturnoff.“Theytalkedusintothisno-riskadventure,butnowthey’repullingtherugout.It’ssostrange.”

Aswedrovethroughtheirgate,aheavyrainstartedslantingthroughourheadlights.IfoundmyselfhopingJean-JacquesandLailawouldn’tseeus.Thisseemedtypicalofthewaylong-termguestsituationsworkout.NoquestionourrelationshipwiththeKurtzeswassouring,butIdidn’tthinkitwasourdoing.

“Youknow,”Isaid,“Ifwe’dknownwhatwe’dbegettinginto,don’tyouthinkFrancewouldhavebeenforvacations,notaplacecalltohome?Wecertainlyaren’ttheartistandwriterinresidencewe’dthoughtwe’dbe.Notbyalongshot.”

“Iknow,Kenny.OhhowIknow,”shesaidlookingawayfromthelightsofJean-Jacques’officedimlyflickeringthroughtherain.

THENEXTday,ourchastenedpairofpaintersstartedcleaninguptheirover-runs,drips,andsplashes.Iwatched,encouraged,astheyscrapedofftheoldpaintandstartedrollingprimeronthewallsoverthestairstothetopfloor.Butthestufftheywereusinglookeddifferent.Notthewater-basedlatexI’dexpected.BingandIruffledthroughourlittlereddictionariestoaskwhatwasup.

“Quellepeintureutilisez-vous?Latexoul’huile?”(Whichpaintareyouusing?Latexoroil-based?)Bingasked.

“Huile,”(oil)theyreplied.

“Why?”

Theysaiditbondedbettertoletorchis,theancientadobe-typematerialmanyofourwallsweremadefrom.(Someofthesehadtheactualhandprintsofthemedievallaborers,indicatingtheworkmighthavebeendoneaslongassevenhundredyearsearlier!)Theysaidthecrumblingoldmaterialwouldre-bondwiththeoil-basedpainttoformastronger,moresolidwall.Thatseemedtomakesense,especiallyifyoudidn’tknowadamnthingaboutancienttorchiswalls.

JustbeforenoonLaurantstoppedinagain,stridingauthoritativelythroughtheplace,checkingonwhatwasandwhatwasnotgoingon.Heseemedparticularlyinterestedinthepainters’workatthetopofthestairway.Myheartsankasheshookhishead.Whatcouldbewrong?Hedidn’twanttospeakwherethepainterscouldhear.

Outinfrontofthehouse,LaurantlookedBingstraightintheeye,ignoringme,aswashisparticularcustom,unliketheotherlaborerswho

onlyaddressedme,andsaid,“Cestypessontfous.”(Theseguysareidiots.)

Aftertheusualspinthroughourdictionaries,wefiguredoutthatLaurantwastellingusthewallsofthethirdfloorwereplasterovertorchis,acombinationthatbreathed.Theoil-basedstufftheywereusingwouldactasaseal,makingeverythingweakerratherthanstronger.Thepaintersdidn’tknowwhattheyweredoing.“Getridofthem,”hesaid.

ThewayLaurantdirectedhisentireconversationtoBingwhenIwasmakingtheresponsesforourteamwasstartingtoirritateme.Admittedly,BingunderstoodFrenchbetterthanIdid,butIdidmostofthetalking.Myegowasbruised.Hesaidweshouldlettheseguysgo.OfcourseIwastheonewhohiredthem,sothatwasanotherpininmycushion.IwastryingnottogetinahuffortowonderifcharmingLaurantwasstartingtohaveathingforBing.

Sowhathappensnext?We’dstartedtowardClaude’sforlunch,butM.Rougecamerunningout,makingitveryclearwehadtogetbacktothehouse.Whenwegottothebottomofthestairs,Rougepointedup.Ohshit.Thewholestairwaywallhadcollapsed!Whereawallhadbeenwasnowjustaskeletonofcolumnsandcross-beams.

AsBing,Rouge,andIstoodstaringopen-mouthedatthemessabove,ourtwopaintingmencamestridingthroughthefrontdoor,backfromlunchandeagertocontinue…screwingup.Whentheysawthemess,theywereasshockedaswewere.Thatspokeforitself:Lauranthadseenthemistaketheyweremaking,buttheyhadn’taclue.Theseclownshadtogo.Nodoubtaboutitnow.

Outwiththedictionariesagain.BingandIputourheadstogetherto

produceareasonabledismissalannouncementamountingto:“Ifyouwantanymoneyatall,youwillcleanthemessoffthestairs.Getitdowntotherezdechausséeforthetruckthisafternoon.Afteryoucollectyourbrushesandeverythingthatisyours,leave.Wewillpayyouforthetimeyouworked,butnothingmore.Andneveraskusforworkagain.”

Theyweren’thappyandapparentlysaidsomenastythingsbecauseBrunolookedtoseeifIunderstood.WhenitwasclearIdidn’t,hewalkeduptotheleaderandstartedbouncingtheflatofhishandofftheyoungman’schest,shovinghimbackagainstthewall,gettingseverelyintohisface.Icouldn’tunderstandthewords,butfromtheexpressiononthepainters’faces,itwascleartheywouldwatchwhattheysaidortherewouldbeteethlost.Brunostayedclosebehindthetwoofthemuntilthestairswerecleared.Brunowasnobodytoscrewwith,andIthankedGodhewasintheirfaces,notmine.

NINETEENEXPULSÉ

OVERTHEnextweekthequalityoflifeatChezKurtzplummeted.Theleakywaterpipe(whichI’dfinallyfixed)startedthingsoff.Themalaisethatproduced(asifthebreakwasourfault)wascompoundednextbythefaxmachinetheylentusscrewingupandblockingoneoftheirphonelines.WewereunawareofituntilIwentonlinewithmylaptopandwipedoutLaila’sotherlinewhileshewastalkingtoLondon.Jean-Jacquesstormedaroundthepool,bangedonourdoor,andreclaimedthefaxandprinter.Big-timeparanoiawasnowinplace.Itwaslikebeingkidsinanotherkid’ssandbox.Hispail.Hisshovel.Nothingactuallyourssothateverylittlescrewuphadournamesonit.

“Bing,doyouthinkwe’reburningtoomuchwood?Imean,consideringit’ssupposedtobenearlysummer?”IaskedonemorningasIdumpedanarmloadoflogsnexttothekitchenfireplace.

“Ihavenoideahowmuchistoomuch,”shesaidfromthesink,finishingthebreakfastdishes.“Mostnightshavebeenrainyorcold.If

finishingthebreakfastdishes.“Mostnightshavebeenrainyorcold.Ifwedon’tburnwooditmeansturningontheelectricheaters.YouknowwhatJean-Jacquessaidabouthowexpensivetheyare.Thereareacoupleforestsoflogsstackedbybothhouses.Wecanpayforwhatweuseifitcomestothat.”

“Yeah,Iguess,”Isaid,myeyesscootingbackfromthewoodtothetilesofthekitchenfloor.“Oh,oh.Bing,checktheblackmarksonthetiles.”Theyhadn’tbeenthereafterwesoppeduptheflood.

Takingupthedishtowel,shelookedatthefloor.

“Thesolesofthenewboots,”shesaid,noddingtowardmyfeet.“I’llbetthat’swhytheyweresocheap.Softrubber.Itshouldn’tbemuchofaproblemtocleanupthough,”sheconcluded,thenadded,“There’scleanerandastiffbrushunderthesink.”

I’dbeenstandinginfrontoftheraisedhearthlookingatthefloor.WhenBingmentionedthestuffunderthesink,Iturnedjustassheturned,myelbowbumpinghers,andCRASH!Avaseshe’djustdriedhitthefloor.

“Ohno,”Bingmoaned,“thatwasthevaseLailaputtheflowersinwhenwearrived.”

“Oneofherfavorites,naturally,”Isaid.“Shefounditatabrocantesomeplace.We’dbetterstarthittingthebrocantes;afterIfixthefloor,anddealwiththewoodsupply,andpayforourtelephonecalls,anddoabetterjobonthewaterpipe,and—”

“Kenny,stopit.You’remakingmountainsoutofmolehills.Relax,”Bingsaidalittletestily,reachingforthedustpanandbroom.Thetoneofher“relax”irritatedme,butthatcouldjusthavebeenmyparanoidimagination,alongwithmyvisionofLailaknockingonthedoorany

minuteaskingforhervaseback,likethefaxmachine,andprinter,andtelephonebeforeit.So,tomakeamends,Itookthebroomand,unbelievably,managedtoknockaceramicpitcherofhoneyoffthecounter.

Wespentthatafternoonandseveralmoresearchingbrocantesforamatchingvase.Withoutsuccess.WhichIthinkaddedtomygrowingdistractionbecause,acoupleofnightslater,Iforgottocrackopenakitchenwindowtohelpthefireplacedraw.Ahyes,Ifilledthewholedamnguesthousewithsmoke.ShadesoftherueBasquefireman’sfolly.Thoughthistimewithoutbigredtrucks,thankheaven.Thesmokewasn’tvisible.Prayerfully,theKurtzeswerenonethewiser.

Ispentthenextmorningcleaningupsoot.Thiswasnowaytolive,andnodamnwaytofinishmynovel,orforBingtocreateacanvaseither.

SURPRISINGLY,INEXPLICABLY,Jean-JacquesandLailastartedactingwarmeragain.Thenightafterthesmokeincidentwewereinvitedtothemainhouseforroastduck.Alwaysadelight.Jean-Jacqueswasanexcellentcook,havingattendedtheCordonBleusomeyearsbefore.Theconversationwasvigorousagain,too,whichledtosomeinsightastowhywewere,temporarilyatleast,returningtofavor.ItturnedoutJean-Jacqueswasgivingthesermonathischurchthatweekandagroupofseniorelderswascomingtohearhim.Hewantedtouseusassoundingboards.

Histopicwas“WhyWeDon’tCelebrateChristmas.”ThefactthatitwasalmostJunemadeitastrangetimetobeconcernedaboutsuchthings,butwhatdidweknow?Hereallygotintoitduringdinner,recitingwhatseemedamemorizedsoliloquyabouttheterribletravesty

recitingwhatseemedamemorizedsoliloquyabouttheterribletravestyChristmascelebrationsactuallywere.

“TheWiseMenwerenottheMagiasthey’vebeenhistoricallypopularized,”hesaid.“Infacttheywereastrologers,magicians,diabolicfraudsinleagueswithHerod!TheywerehisagentssenttofindtheChristchildandthenreportback.”

Icanneverstayoutofanargument,soIreachedbehindmeandpickedupaBiblehehadlyingonthecoffeetable.Openingit,Ireadaloud,“‘TheyboweddownandworshipedHim.ThentheyopenedtheirtreasuresandpresentedHimwithgiftsofgoldandincenseandmyrrh.AndhavingbeenwarnedinadreamnottogobacktoHerod,theyreturnedtotheircountrybyanotherroute.’Thatdoesn’tsoundliketheywereconspiringwithHerodtome,”Isaid.

Jean-Jacquesjustblewthatoffas“Irrelevant.”

Hmm?

“AndKen,December25thwasnottheactualdateanyway.ThebirthprobablywasinSeptemberorOctober.Sothewholecelebrationisreallyjustanextrapolationofpaganfestivalsandshouldnotbepaidanyattention.”

Inmynewroleasamateurstreettheologian,Iputmytwocentsinonthattoo.“Whocareswhattheactualdatewas?Ifthatwereimportantinitself,itwouldbeintheBible.Thefactofthebirthiswhatisimportant.Andhowitfitsintowhattheearlyprophetshadheralded.AnewCovenantliterallywasbeingborn…oneinwhichGodlatersacrificesHisSon,notalambasintheold.AbrahamhadbeensparedgivingupIsaac.God,however,doesnotstepbackfromsuchahorrificaffirmationofHisloveformankind.”

“OnlyEaster,theResurrection,shouldbecelebratedbyChristians,”

“OnlyEaster,theResurrection,shouldbecelebratedbyChristians,”Jean-Jacquesannounceddidactically.

“WithoutthebirthofChrist,there’snodeathfromwhichtoberesurrected,sodoesn’tthatbirthconstitutegroundforcelebrationinitself?”Bingasked.Iwantedtorunaroundthetableandhugher.

Wewentbackandforthonthisandotherscripture,succeedingonlyinestablishinghowfarapartourunderstandingsoftheBiblereallywere.BythetimeBingandIleft,ourrelationshipwiththeKurtzeswasagaintumblingdownhill.Wehadfailedassoundingboardsofaffirmation.Backinourslightlysmokybed,however,Bingsaidshe’dbeenproudofmeandfeltgoodaboutbothourperformances.Amen.

ITTURNEDoutthatJean-Jacques’sermonwaspartofalargerandmuch-heraldedeventforhislocalcongregation.Adinnerafterserviceswasplannedatthemainhousetoo.Tooursurprise,BingandIwereinvited,thoughasthingsdevelopeditwouldhavebeenbetterifwehadnotbeen.

Attheirtemplehallthecongregationwaswarmandfriendly.DespiteourroughFrench,peoplechattedencouraginglywithus.Finally,aswemovedtoourseats,BinggavealittletugonmysleeveandaskedifI’dseentheyoungwomansittingconspicuouslyaloneinthelastrow?Iglancedinthatdirection,notingahaggard,almostfragile,yetattractivewomanthere.Bingdescribedheraslookinglikeabroken-wingedbird.Thentheservicebegan.

Whenitcametimeforthesermon,asbestIcouldfollowit,Jean-Jacquesseemedtomakethesamepointshe’dmadeinEnglishthenightbefore.Thereceptionhere,however,wasfarmorepositive.Theinvitedleadersseemedpleased,noddingasthepointswereclickedoff,almostas

leadersseemedpleased,noddingasthepointswereclickedoff,almostasacatechism.Fortunately,Iwasn’tabletounderstandenoughtocausemybloodpressuretorise.BingandImadeitthroughtheservice,andtheBibleclassthatfollowed,withoutdoingorsayinganythinguntoward.

ThedinnerlaterattheKurtzes’wasanotherstory.Thoughitstartedwarmlyenough,oncewe’dsatdownatthetablethingsquicklywentfrigid.Wehadn’tbeenseatedverylongbeforeLaila,smilingbrightlyandspeakinginEnglish,asked,“Dideveryonenoticethewomansittingaloneinthelastrow?”

“Idid,”Bingsaid.“Iwonderedifshewasill.Shelookedsosad,likeabroken-wingedbird.”

AsifwhatBinghadsaidwasgoodnews,Lailagaveaslightchuckle,nodded,andwithhereyesmovingbrightlyaroundthetablesaid,“Sheshouldlooksad.Weareshunningher.”Reachingforherwineglass,shelookedatBing,thenoveratmewithaslightliftofherglass.

“Shunningher?”Bingquestioned,lookingnonplused.

Isn’tthatsomethingoutoftheMiddleAges?Iwantedtoaskbutheldoff.

“Ohyes,”Lailasaid.“Shehassinnedandweareadmonishingherasscripturedirects.Onememberofourcongregationdrivestoherhousetwonightsaweektobringhertoclassandservices.Buthedoesn’tspeaktoher.UntilsherepentswithfullconfessionbeforethewholeTemple,shewillcontinueinthisstate.Wouldyoulikesomebutterwithyourbread?”sheaskedme,turningfromBing.

Bingwassittingacrossfromme.Shelookedlikeshewasholdingherbreath,readytoexplode.

Icouldn’tkeepmymouthshut.Lookingaroundateveryoneatthe

Icouldn’tkeepmymouthshut.Lookingaroundateveryoneatthetable,inFrenchIapologizedforhavingtospeakEnglish,thensaid,“AsIunderstandit,theNewCovenantwassupposedtohavebroughtloveintotheworldofhumanaffairs.AndthattheunfulfillablenatureoftheOldLaw,itshundredsofrequirements,inflexibility,andcoldoversight,hadledtoajudgementalismwhichJesuswassenttochange;andinsodoingchangetherelationshipamongstmentoonebasedonlove’ssacrificeandservice.”Iwentontochallengethem,asmenandwomenofGod,toreviewhowtheFatherhadgiventheSon,andinturn,howChristhaddealtwiththosewhosinned.TheSamaritanwomanatthewell.Hisassociationwithsuspecttaxcollectorsandne’er-do-wells.WhatHesaidinLukeaboutjudgingothers.Theadmonitiontoforgivealmostwithoutend;andofcourseIreferencedthetimewhenHeateatthePharisee’shouseandtheharlotwashedHisfeetwithhertearsanddriedthemwithherhair.Inalloftheseexamples,kindness,wisdom,love,andforgivenesswerethecommonthreads.

So,lookingaroundagain,andcatchingeachoftheseleaders’eyes,endingwithLailaherself,Isaid,“YouareallmenandwomenofGod.InHisservice.Thereforeeachofyoumustaskyourself,ifJesusChristhadbeeninyourtempletonightandsawthatwoman,whatwouldHehavedone?WouldHehaveshunnedher?OrwouldHehavegonetocomforther,embracedher,withforgivenessandlove,askingonlythatshegoandsinnomore?That’sthequestion.Theanswerisinyourhearts…andinthatBook.”IgesturedtowardtheBiblethatlayopenbetweenthecandlesinthecenterofthetable.

ThenBingandIgotup,wishedthemallagoodevening,andleft.

Crossingthewaytotheguesthouse,Bingslidherhandintomineand

said,“RememberwhenPierreandMarie-Claudewerehereforthatfrostydinner?HowJean-JacquessaidsomethingaboutifeverIamwronginmyfaithIwantitpointedouttomefromScripture.Well,that’sexactlywhatyoudidtonight.Itwillbeinterestingtoseehowhedealswithit.”

“Myguttellsmeitwon’tbewell,”Isaid,puttingmyarmaroundhershoulder.“Butatleastwefoughtthegoodfight.”

WEDIDN’TseeJean-JacquesandLailaforthreedays.(Anecclesiasticallyappropriatenumber,Iwouldsay.)They’dhadtogotoafollow-upconventioninAvignon.Whentheyreturned,however,theytelephonedourcellphoneandaskedmetocomeover.IgaveBingahug.Webothsensedthiswouldbeadifficultconfrontation.

Itwasraining,notadownpour,juststeadily.Ipulledonajacket,turnedupthecollar,andtrudgedaroundthepooltotheirbackdoor.

Foraslongaswe’dknowntheKurtzes,thatdoorhadbeenopentouswhethertheywereathomeornot.Thisevening,however,Jean-Jacquesstoodinthedoorway,framedforBingbythebacklightingoftheirkitchen.ShesaidlatershewassurprisedthatIwasn’twelcomedin,evenmorethatIwasleftstandingintherain.

Jean-Jacqueswasafairlylargeman,round-faced.Backhomehe’dbereferredtoas“beefy.”AsIapproached,thewayhefilledthedoorwaytoldmehewasn’tabouttomoveaside.Hewasnotsmiling.Hisexpressionwasblank,eyesdull,notfriendly.

Laila,whonevercooked,wasatthestovesomedistancebehindJean-Jacques.Therewasaspatulainherhandthatshewasusingtoprodsomethinginaskillet.Shewasinprofiletomeandneverturnedherheadinmydirection.

“Bonsoir,Jean-Jacques.Youwanttotalk?”Iofferednon-committally.

“Yes,”hereplied,hishandsgoinguptothedoorjams,notshakingmine.“Weneedyoutoleave.”

Ididn’tsayanything,justlookedhimintheeyeuntilheadded,“Manythingshavechanged.”

“Whendowehavetobeout?”Iasked.

“Tomorrow,”hesaid.

“TomorrowisSaturday.TofindaplacetostayonSaturdaycouldbeverydifficult.Giveustheweekendtorelocate.”

Hedidn’tsayanythingforamoment,andthenturnedtowardLaila.“HewantsuntilMonday,Laila,”hecalled.

Withoutlookinginourdirection,andafterapauseofherown,shesaid,“Allright.”

Jean-Jacqueslookedbackatme,stillexpressionless.

“Canweleavethefurnitureweboughtinthebarntillwefinishthehouse?”Therewereahalfdozenpieces,severalquitelarge,thatwe’dfoundatvariousbrocantes.Iftheycouldn’tbeleftthere,we’dreallybeupthecreek.

Jean-JacquesturnedtowardLailaagain.Thiswasverystrange.Itwasasifthetwoofthemwererehearsingabadplay.

“Hewantstoleavethefurnitureinthebarn.”

Lailadidn’tpauseonthisone.“No,”shesaid,shortandsweet.

Jean-Jacquesturnedandwalkedtoatablenotfarfromthedoor.Hedidn’tinvitemein.Istartedtoleavewhenhecalled,“Ken,waitamoment.”

Iturnedashereturnedtothedoor.ForaninstantIhopedhewasn’tgoingtosoftenandoffersomeexplanation,orevenanapology.Itwas

goingtosoftenandoffersomeexplanation,orevenanapology.Itwastoolateforthat.I’dhadenough.

Jean-Jacqueshadsomepapersinhishand,whichheheldouttome.

“Thesearethecostsofthewoodyouhaveburnedandyourtelephoneusage.Iwillhavebillsfortheelectricandgasattheendofthemonth.”

ItookthebillswithoutlookingatthemasIturnedbacktothewarmglowofthelightsfromtheguesthousekitchenwewouldsoonbeleaving.OntheshortwalkthroughtherainitoccurredtomethatJean-Jacques’sermonhad,inonesense,beenfairlyaccurate:heandhispeoplereallydon’thaveChristmas…ever.

TWENTYDOWNAROADLESS

TRAVELED

THESTATUEofLiberty,designedbytheFrenchmanFrédéric-AugusteBartholdi,wasdedicatedtothehomelesshuddledmassesyearningtobefree.Itdidn’tescapeusthattherewassomeironyinthesituationwefoundourselvesin—evicted,huddled,andyearningfortheartisticfreedompromisedbyaFrenchmanwhowashimselfactivelyshovingusintothathuddledmassstatus.

AsSaturday’sdawnwasbreaking,Ifantasizedaboutgoingtolamairie,thetownhall,whichwasopentillnoon,andapplyingforvillageidiotstatus.PerhapstherewasaMinistèredesIdiotsduVillagethatwouldputaroofoverourheads.Therewasoneforeverythingelseitseemed.

Otherthanhotels,wherecouldwelive?Binggrabbedaphonebookanddiscoveredgîtes—countryrentalsavailablebytheweekormonth—a

boomingbusinessinacountryperpetuallyonholiday.

AsI’dmentionedearlier,onegetsthefeelingthegoaloftheFrenchgovernment,certainlythepoliticians,istohave365work-freedaysperyear.They’reabouthalfwaythererightnow.Eventheeducationalsystemhelps.Schoolsareoutmuchofthetime,thougheachdépartementhasspecificcontrolofitsbreaks,whicharecoordinatedwiththeadjoiningjurisdictions.FortheareaaroundBlackMountain,threedifferentschoolsystemscouldbevacationingoneaftertheotherdrivinglocalgîtepricestohigh-seasonlevelsthreetimeslongerthanelsewhere.Havingsomanyfamilieslookingforplacescouldmakeitdifficultforus.PlustryingtonegotiateinFrenchoverthetelephone…goodgrief,wewereinwayoveroutheads.Weneededalinguistwhoknewsomethingaboutthiskindofstuff—andknewaboutsomethinghuddledmassestoo.

“Adrian.He’dknowaboutgîtes,”Bingsuggested.“AndifhehastheboatbackatPortLauragaiswemightevenstayonitforafewdayswhilewegetlocated.”

IwasgladBingthoughttocallAdrian.We’dbeensofocusedonthemesswewereinwe’dlostsightofthefarworsemesshewasin.ThephonehadaspeakerbuttonsoBingandIwereabletojumpintogetheroncewehadhimontheline.

“Notrecherami,”webegan,quicklyexhaustingourtip-of-the-tonguesalutations.“Howhaveyoubeen?Isyourfamilyallright?WetriedtoreachyoubeforeweleftfortheStates.Andnow,amazinglyenough,weareback.We’vebeenveryworriedandfeltguiltyforlosingtouch.”

ThebarrageofquestionsandconfessionsgaveAdrianhisownopportunitytoapologizefornotrespondingtoourmessages.

“DearKen,Bing,Ioweyoutheapology.Idestroyedyourspecialhoneymoon,”hesaid,realconcernfloodinghisvoice.“Iburdenedyouwithworryformyfamilytroubles.IdidnotgetbacktoyouonlybecauseIhadnothingsubstantialtoreport,andthatwouldhaveaddedunnecessarilytoyourconcern.”

“Whatnewsdoyouhaveofyourson?”Bingjumpedin.

“Ittookmeforevertofindhim,”Adriansaid.“Hereallyhadrunaway.IfoundhiminParis.He’dhitchhiked.Hehasanolderfriendtherewhohadbeengivinghimbass,bassviolin,lessonslastyear.SohemadethedecisiontogetawayfromthecrazinessandgotoParistobecomeamusician.Igothimaroomneartheconservatoryand,throughsomefriends,wasabletogethimenrolled.Atleastnowhehasafocusandagoal.Realisticallythere’snothinghealthyhereforhim.Hemadetherightdecision.I’msupportinghimonit.”

“OhAdrian,thatiswonderful,”wesaidinunison.“Arethingsbetterwithyourwifeanddaughter?”Bingadded.

“YestoAimee.ShehasgonetoNicetostaywithheraunt.Theygetalongwell.Shewillbeworkingintheirrestaurantuntilthenextsemesterbegins.Iamsothankfulmysistervolunteeredtohelp,”hesaid,obviousreliefinhisvoice.

“IwishIcouldsaythingsaregoingaswellforAimee’smother,”Adrianadded,hisvoicetightening.“Sheisunderintensepsychiatriccare,butIdoubtsheismakinganyprogress.Icannothelp.ThemoreItry,themoreitseemstodrivehertotheedge.AllIcandoisworkonmyboatanddowhatIcanformykids.”

“Adrian,I’msosorry.Perhaps—”buthecutmeoffbeforeIcouldfinish.

finish.

“Howareyoutwo?HaveyoubeeninFranceallthistime?”

“It’salong,longstory,”Bingjumpedin.“Wehadadeathinthefamily,returnedtotheStates.ThengotacallonahouseinBlackMountain.Boughtitsiteunseen.Thoughtwehadaturnkeyrestoration.Didnot.Hadafallingoutwithourfriendshere.Andnowwe’rekindofhomeless.Oh,Adrian,itishasreallybeenamess.”

“Wethinkweneedagîtetoseeusthroughtillthehouseisfinished,”Itookover,“sowethoughtyoumighthavesomeideas?”

“Hmmm,”hesaid.“IdothinkIcanhelp.WhenIwasinParisIstayedwithafriendthere,alawyer,whohasaworkingfarmnotfarfromyou,witharentalhouseontheproperty.Actuallyitisalargebuildingwithtwoverywell-equippedapartments.Heusesoneonweekends,fromtimetotime,whilerentingtheother.Botharequitespaciousandlovely.Givemeafewhours.Iwillgettohim.Callmebackthisafternoon.Ifnothingdevelopswithhim,youcanstayontheboatwithmeforafewdays.Ioweyouanyway,andIdon’thaveacruiseuntilnextFriday.”

“Youarealifesaver,”Isighed.“Thankyousomuch.We’retryingtomakearrangementsforstoringthefurniturewe’veaccumulated.Itwilltakeacoupleofhourstosortthatout,thenwe’llcallyouback.”

“Thankyousomuch,Adrian,”Bingadded,equallyrelieved.“Youarereallypullingusoutofamess.Thankyou,thankyou.”

LATERTHATmorning,wedroveforonelasttimedownJean-JacquesandLaila’slongdrive,pastthefieldsandthroughthegate.Binghadleftaframedsketchshe’ddoneoftheKurtzesmainhouseinthekitchenalongwithourcheckfortelephonetimeandfirewood.Ithoughtaboxofhorsepoopmightbeappropriatetoo,butBinglaunchedintoatreatiseonhow

shehadbeenraisedandhowshewassureIhadbeenraised,andthattherightthingtodoinasituationlikethiswastosaythankyouforthekindnesseswehadreceivedandlettherestgo.Thefactthatthosekindnesseshadbeenwithdrawnwasnottheissue.WeweremakingitcleartoJean-JacquesandLailathatwewerebienélevéandknewhowtoactproperly.

Iknewwhereshewascomingfrom,butIwasn’thappy.

“Bing,don’tbesuchasaint,”Isaid.“Thesepeoplehavemessedusupbigtime.AndIhavenoideawhytheydidit.Maybeitstartedwiththeirproselytizing.Youknow,intheirreadingofscripture,BookofRevelations,theycomeupwithsomekindofnumerologicalbusinessabout144,000selectsoulswhowillmakeittoheaven.Ithinkthiswholedealwasdesignedtobringusintothefold.WhenIshotmymouthoffabouttheshunning,wewerecountedout.Iguesswiththesefolks,ifyouareclearlynotofthe144,000,youarewayout.Maybewe’rebeingshunnedtoo.Whichdoesn’tbothermeintheleast.”

“Iagree,”Bingsaid,“butI’mnotgoingtoletthemmakemealesserperson.Itistimetoforgiveandforget.”

“Thatdoesnotmakemefeelverywarmandfuzzy.”

“Getoverit.”

“Bing,mylove,ifyoureallyworkatthisyoumightbeabletickmeoff.”

Shewentsilent.Heremotionaldoorsclosed.Igrittedmyteeth,mouthshut.

Movingon…westillhadthefurnitureproblem.AntonandTrakyamightbeabletohelp.Hehadthetrailer.HopefullywecouldhirehimtohelpmoveeverythingoutofJean-Jacques’barntowherever.So,

helpmoveeverythingoutofJean-Jacques’barntowherever.So,arrivingbackinBlackMountain,wetoldthemwhathadhappened.Trakya’sreactionwasinteresting.

Poppingherfistsontoherhips,sheshookherhead,saying,“Inevertrustedthatman.HewoulddriveoverherewheneverIhadababytochangeoradinnertoprepareandtellmeallabouthowwonderfulJesusis.Idon’tneedhimtotellmethat.Ialreadyknowit.AllIneededwasforhimtogoawaysoIcouldgetmyworkdone.Ithoughthewasslippery.Likeasnake.”

ThenAntonpipedin,“Jesusrodeonadonkey,notinaMercedes.”

Whichsentusintopealsoflaughter.

“Anton,”Ichuckled,“IthoughtGermanshadnosenseofhumor.”

“True,myfriend,but,asIkeeptellingyou,IamAustrian.Wearenaturallyfunnypeople.Ournationalanthemisaboutlittleplantsandtheirflowers.Thatisveryfunny.Yah.”

Thisonlyaddedtothehoots.

“Youwillneedmytrailertohaulyourfurniture.Iwillalsogiveyoumybacktouse,ifwehavebeerlater,”hesaidsmiling.

“Thatwouldbewonderful,”Bingsaid,looseningupandtakingmyhand.

“Great,butournextproblemiswheretoputthestuff?”Isaid.“Ifyoucouldhelpwithaphonecall,I’dliketoaskRaoulatthebocantenearSaintFélixifwecouldstoreitthereuntilthehouseisdone.”

“Noproblem,”hereplied,“Iwillcall.Hewillsayyes.Iknowhim.Wewilltakeeverythingthere.”

AndTrakyatoldusnottoworryaboutwheretostayeither.“Ifworstcomestoworst,”shesaid,“wehavesleepingbagsforyoutospendthenightsinfrontofourfireplace.YoucanbeGypsieslikeAntonandIwere

nightsinfrontofourfireplace.YoucanbeGypsieslikeAntonandIwereforsolong.”

Theywerebeingsokind.Icouldfeelalumpstartinginmythroat.

“Butfirst,gîtes,”Trakyasaid.

Beforeshecouldgetstartedinthatdirection,though,Bingjumpedinwithwhatwe’daccomplishedwithAdrian.

“Ithinkweareallright,”Bingtoldher.“OurfriendontheboatatPortLauragaisistalkingtoafriendwhohasaplacenearhere.Hethinksthatwillworkout,butifitdoesn’t,wecanstayonhisboatuntiltheendofnextweek.Thatshouldgiveustimetosettlesomewhere.”

Thepiecesstartedtofallintoplace.Raoulhadnoproblemwithourleavingthingswithhim.Astutelyenough,hefiguredthemoretimewespentinhisbarnfullofantiques,themorewe’dthinkweneededtobuyfromhim.

WhenAntonandIgotbacktotheKurtzesbarn,thestoragedoorwasunlockedandJean-Jacqueswasnowhereinsight.Infact,heandLailahadbeenconspicuouslyoutofsightsincetheyannouncedoureviction,thoughtheircarswereparkedoutfront.

BetweenthetrailerandAnton’soldMercedeswagon,wewereabletogeteverythinginoneload.Bravo.TheridetoSaint-Félix-Lauragaistookonlyaboutthirtyminutes.Wespentanothertwentyunloading.

RaoulandEvita(whosenameIcouldremember),likeAntonandTrakya,weretwoofthenicestpeoplewe’dmetourfirsttimeinBlackMountain.Theyweresosweet,puttingupwithourpokingaroundtheirbarnfullofoldstuff,hagglingoverprices,andnotbuyingenough,bytheirestimation.

ManyoftheitemsofthefurniturehadbeenboughtfromRaoulinthe

ManyoftheitemsofthefurniturehadbeenboughtfromRaoulinthefirstplace.Afterunloading,RaoulledAntonandmetothefarendofthebarntothesectionhe’dturnedintoanapartment,whereheandEvitalived.Hestoodusinfrontofahugeglassvesselhe’ddugupwhenhewasgettingreadytolayaslabforhiskitchenfloor.Itwasballoonshaped,withlotsofbubblesentrappedinitsthickgreenglass.Reallyold.Aboutameterindiameteratitswidestpoint,ittaperedtoaregularcorkedopeningatthetop.Itwasaquarterfullof…whatever.Raoul’seyestwinkledashehadusliftthethingontoanoldcarriageseat,settlingitagainstoneofthecurvedarmrestssoitwouldn’trolloff.

Asheworkedthecorkfree,Evitaarrivedcarryingbrandysniftersonatray.Withoutceremonyhesloshedaboutaninchofthestuffintoeachandhandedthemaround,thennoddedformetotakethefirstsip.Howlonghadthisstuffbeenburied?HowmanygenerationsofRaoul’sfamilyhadlivedoveritsincetheburial?MaybeitwasaleftoverfromBonaparte’squartermastercorps?Doesbrandy,orwhateveritwas,turntocyanideovertime?WhywasIfirst?Butwhatthehell,IliftedthesnifterlikeIknewwhatIwasdoing.Heldittothelightlikethebigguysdoandthenloweredittosniff.Wow.Astheoldsinuspassagesweretorched,myeyesteared.Allthreeweresmilingatme.Antonchuckinghischinup,urgingmetosip.EvenEvitawasflutteringhereyelashesforaction.

“Okay,heregoesnothing,”Isaid.Downthehatchandthen…kaboom,ithitbottom.Napalm.“Bon,”Iwhispered,hardlyabletobreathe.

Raoulgavemearespectfulnodandliftedhisglass,asdidAntonandEvita,thenthethreepoppedtheirsdownwithoutahintoftheplumbing

problemsI’dhad.WhatcouldIsay?Aftertheinitiation,orwhateveritwasmeanttobe,Raoulledthewayintotheirsnugkitchen.Acharmingplace.Smallinteriorstonewallsdefinedalcoveswheretheappliancesweretucked.Oneforthefridge,anotherfortheCuisineàSimonegasstove.Thefireplacewasalsoofstone,withahugesquaredlogforamantle.Afewemberssmolderedasevidenceoftheirstruggleagainstthehilltop’swindychill.Wesataroundtheantiquewoodentableinthecenteroftheroom,infrontoftheFrenchdoors.FrommychairIhadacommandingviewofthevalleybelow,andinthedistance,themagnificentsnowcappedPyrenees.WiththeMediterraneanSeadistanttotheeastandtheAtlanticwestofus,theregion’sweatherissochangeableitwasn’tasurprisetowatchthefingersofacloudyskystartreachingtowardthemountains.Thatviewblurredasalightrainbeganfalling.Nowthekitchen’swarmthwasespeciallywelcome.

Asiftheancientbrandyhadn’tbeenenough,RaoulopenedabottleofGaillac.RedwineseemedtheanswertoeveryhitchinaFrenchman’sday.ThentheshopbellrangandEvitaexcusedherself.Withthethreeofuslefttoourowndevices,AntonandRaoulsippedandchattedaboutthecrazyweather,whatitwastoraisekidsnowadays,andthepriceofpetrol.IwasmildlysurprisedtofindIunderstoodalotofwhattheysaid.SuddenlyIwasfilledwiththemarvelousrealizationofwhereIwas—sittinginarestoredmedievalkitchenwithstunningviews,listeningtopeopletalkabouteverydaythingsinanotherlanguageandactuallyunderstandingthem.Wasitthebuzzofbooze,orwasprogressbeingmade?

TWENTY-ONECOWS

WHENWEgotbacktoBlackMountain,Binghadgoodnews.Adrian’sParisianfriendhadthreeweeksopenathisplaceinSoual,justtwentykilometers(abouttwelvemiles)fromBlackMountain.Wewouldhavetopaythehigh-seasonratesbecauseofallthedepartmentalschoolvacations,butsowhat?We’dhavearoofoverourheads.However…wewouldhavetopassaninterview.

“Tellmeyou’rekidding,Bing,”Isaid.“Thisisn’ttheUpperWestSide.Wearen’ttryingtogetBuffyandBrieintopreschool.Wejustwanttorentafewrooms.HowtheheckarewesupposedtohaveenoughFrenchforaninterview?”

“Adriansaiditwon’tbelikethat…”

“Whatdoesthatmean?Isthisoneofthosewhat’sthemeaningof‘is’deals?I’mnotrunningforpresident.Ijustwantaplacetosleep,forheavensakes.”

“Adriansaystheowner’sagent,MadameRigale,isrequiredtogetalookatus.Makesurewearen’tleftoverhippiesorsomething.Wegive

lookatus.Makesurewearen’tleftoverhippiesorsomething.Wegiveheracoupleofchecks—oneforourtimethereandtheotherfordamages,”Bingexplained.“It’sthesamebackhome.Thebadnewsistheyhavepeoplecominginbehindussowe’llhavetogosomewhereelseinthreeweeks.We’rebeggarsnow,Kenny.Youknowthestory.”

“Okay,whatever.Butyoudothetalking.Myvocabularydoesn’tincludehousecare.TellherI’mdeaforjustextremelyAmerican.She’llunderstand.”

“Ohcomeon,oncewegetstarted,IdoubtI’llbeabletoshutyouup.”Bingsaid

“We’llsee.Aninterviewofallthings.DidAdrianhaveanycribnotes?”

“It’sgoingtobefine.Relax.Takeanap.Butnomorewine.YouandAntonlooklikeyou’vebeendoingmorethanjustmovingfurniture,”sheconcluded,rollinghereyes.

LATER,ONthefarsideofSoual,weturnedontoanarrowdirtroadleadingtothefarm.Andwhatafarmitwas.Cowseverywhere.Atleastahundred,alongwithallkindsofautomaticmilkingequipmentintwohugebarns,plustwootherbuildingshousingheavyequipment,tractorsandsuch.Andthewholeoperationwasrunbyonefamily,theRigalesandtheirteenagedaughter.Welaterlearnedthegirl,René,wasinagriculturalcollegeandplannedtotakeitalloverherselfsomeday.

MadameRigaleturnedouttobeawonderfulsurprise.Shespokesoclearly,probablytheproductoftalkingtocowsmostofthetime.Shewaseasytounderstand.Sowehadarealconversation.InFrench!Shewalkedusthroughthehousewithaninventorysheetinonehand,checkingofftwosofas,tenchairs,pots,pans,knives,forks,spoons,onandon,establishingforbothpartiesthateverythingwastherewhenwe

checkedin.Itwasagreatvocabularylesson.Bingdidtheacceptancesigning.Myjobwastowriteoutthetwochecks.Ofcourseeverythingwasintriplicate—onecopyforus,anotherforMmeRigale,andthelastfortherentalagencytohaveonhandwhenthegovernmenttaxmancame.Everythinginitsplace,includingus.

Thehousewasluxurious.Beautifulkitchen.Granddiningroom.Asalon.Alargelivingroom.Threeairybedrooms.Twobaths.Television.Clocks.Radios.Centralheating.Aterraceoverlookingendlessfieldsfullofcowsandcrops.Wewereonahillocksharedwithanotherdairy.Therewerewoodsandstreamsinthevalleyaccommodatinganamazingrabbitpopulationbouncinganddivingintoholeseverywhere.Ahillockheaven.

Asthecloud-drapedsunsettledonthehorizon,thechillingdampaircrystalizedtogroundfog.Farmnoisesgrewlouderaroundus.Cowscalledfortheireveningmilking.Geesewentintoatizzyoveranapproachingcat.Twobighawkscircledoverhead,theircallsgoingouttoothersoftheirclanthatitwouldberabbitfordinner.Owlspassedtheword;whiledovescooedcaution.FinallythefarmbellrangforM.Rigale.Dinnerwasready,thedaywasdone.

Itwaslikebeingonastageasthesunclosedintoaballofred,dippingbehindthePyrenees…asightmadebreathtakingthewaythemountainpeaksaddedspikesofsilverfromtheiriceandsnowslicingintotheflaminghorizon.Sobeautiful.Calming.Forthefirsttimesinceourreturn,wefeltareassuringwarmthwrapusinitsarms.

TWENTY-TWOPROGRESSANDASURPRISE

FOLLOWINGOUReviction,andwithoutJean-Jacquesavailableforrunningtranslations,wewereonourownmorethanever.Nevertheless,peoplebegantorallyaroundus.MostdaysLaurantwouldpatmeonthebackandofferacheery,“MonsieurKen,boncourage”AndI’dprogressedenoughwiththelanguagetomanagearudereturnthatusuallygavehimagoodlaugh.(Bytheway,asIrepeatourconversationswithourFrenchfriendsfromhereon,understandthatwhatIpresentareapproximationsandassumptionsofwhatwassaidandmeant.AsBingoftenrecognizedandtriedtopointout,myresponsesinmanyfast-movingconversationshadlittleifanythingtodowithwhatwasactuallybeingsaid.Ohwell,viveladifférence.)

ThoughLauranthadanAmerican-stylesenseofhumor,noteveryoneelsedid.CertainlynotChristophe,theelectricianwhowasnowputting

ingoodtimewithusafterhavinggoneonanunannouncedvacationtoSpain,leavingwireplacementtoBingandmeinhisabsence.Hewasveryparticular,dedicatedlyanal.Everythinghadtobedonehisway,thoughhiswaymightbetotallythewrongway.Andwhenthatwasproventobethecase,hewouldsavefacebysimplyreversinghispreviouspositionasifheneverbelievedotherwise.(Heprobablywouldhavemadeanexcellentpoliticianinournativeland.)

AnexampleofthiswaswhenBingaskedthatthewirecovers,whichwouldrunupasurface,becoordinatedwiththecolorofthatsurface.Brownupwood,whiteupplaster.TheissuefirstcameaboutonthethirdfloorwhenChristophetoldherthatitwasimpossibletodothingsthatway.Brownwirecoversdidnotexist.Bingthrewadoubtingvraiment?athim,buthestoodhisground.Really?Really.M.Placo,who’doverheardtheexchange,rolledhiseyesandfiredsomethingatChristophe,whoreturnedasalvoofhisown.Theissueendedinadraw,asbestwecouldfollowit.Thatafternoon,however,wedrovetoMonsieurBricolageandraisedthequestionwithBlendine,MadameBricolage.Withouttheslightesthesitationsheshepherdedustotheelectricalsection,andtheretheywere.Coloredwirecovers,white,brown,evenblue.BravoBlendine!Weboughtanarmfulofbrowns.

Onourreturnitwas5PM,quittingtime,asweclimbedovertherubbleheapedinChâteauPoubelle’sfirstfloor.Christophewaspackinghistoolstoleaveaswereachedthetopfloor.ThebigsmileonBing’sfacemadeitclearhowmuchshewasenjoyinghandinghimherbundleofbrownwirecovers.Idon’tknowifhelookedatthemoratBingwithmoresurprise.(Icouldalmosthearthegearsofhismindwhirring—TheseAmericans,theyjustwon’ttakenoforananswer.)Nevertheless,he

carefullystudiedthecovers,gavethesituationamid-levelshrugandawaveofthehand,seemingtoindicatethatthefactoftheirexistencewasatbestsomekindoffiction.Maybethesupplycatalogueheuseddidn’tshowthem,sotheydidnotexist.FormanyFrenchmen,whatamanualsaysorablueprintstatestrumpsrealityeverytime.(IfoundthistobethecaseasatestpilotwithDassaultwhenIreportedalockingbrakeprobleminthedesignofoneoftheirexecutivejets.Mydiscoverycameviaoperatingtheaircraft.WhenIreportedit,everyonewenttoandpouredovertheblueprints.Afterdaysofsuchresearch,thedesignengineersassuredmetheproblemdidnotexist.Icounteredbytakingthemallontotheaircraftanddemonstratingrealityinaverydramaticfashion.Afterscaringthedaylightsoutofthem,theyconcludedthepaperworkwasatfault,notthetestpilot.Ithinkitwasafirst.)

Inthesamevein,Christophewasstrugglingwithseeingarealityandwonderinghowexactlytodenyit.Soheleftforhomewithoutaword,butwithafurrowedbrow.

Surprisingly,thenextmorningwediscoveredthatsometimeduringthenighthemusthavereturnedandswitchedallthecoverstowhatBinghadwanted.Buthenevermentioneddoingit.Weekslaterwhenhewasworkingonthefirstfloorandranoutofbrowncovers,didhegotoM.Bricolageandgetsomemore?Noway.He’dalwaysusedwhite,unlesshewasgivenbrownbythecrazyAmericanwoman,so,whileweweren’taround,that’showhefinishedthejob.Ithinkitwasamatterofinertia,amindsetthathadrootstwothousandyearsdeepintheverysoulofBlackMountain.

INTHElongrun,humoropenedalotofvillagedoorsforus,andworking

onthehouseinthecenterofthingsactuallymadeusapartofthetown’sebbandflow,treatingustoalotwewouldotherwisehavemissed.

AcrossfromChâteauPoubelle,afewhousesuprueBasque,livedanoldmannamedMauriceandhisone-eyeddog,Cabriole(Somersault).Cabriolehadbeenacircusperformeruntilashooting-galleryricochettookouthislefteye.Mauricehappenedtobetherewhenthepupwentdown,practicallyathisfeet.Scoopingthelittlefellowup,he’dracedtothefirstaidwagon.Fortunatelythedogwasunconscious,makingiteasierforthedoctortoextractthepellet,butnotwithoutthelossofsightinthateye.

Mauricewenttothecircusownerandofferedtotakethedoghome,nursehim,andreturnhimtoperformoncetheeyehealed.Thepropriétairewasappreciativebutsaidthedogwouldn’tbeofusetohimone-eyed.Mauricecouldkeephimifhewished.

WhatafortunatethingthathadbeenforMauriceandforBlackMountain.Eachmorningitwasatreattoseetheshort,stoutoldmanpacingslowlydownrueBasquewithhiscane,Cabriolecavortingbehind.Thedogwassmall,short-haired,whitewithlargeblackspotshereandthere—themostconspicuousofthosearingcirclinghisgoodrighteye.

Cabriolewasamazing.Oneminutehe’dbejustbehindMaurice,butwalkinguprightonhishindlegs.Thenhe’dboundonallfours,poppingintotheairinafullbackflip!Itwasthemostextraordinarythingtosee.AnditmadeMauriceacelebritywiththekids.Theywouldgatheraroundclapping,laughing,andcallingformore.

ThefirsttimeMauriceandImet,Iwasheadeduptowardthefountainwhenallofasuddenasmallwhitemissileflewouthiswindow,

fountainwhenallofasuddenasmallwhitemissileflewouthiswindow,landinginfrontofme.That’showCabriolewouldleavethehousetodohisbusiness;easierthanhismasterhavingtogetuptoopenandclosehisdoorallthetime.Soonafter,Mauricecamethroughhisdoorway,practicallybumpingmetoo.

Short,wide,squarelybuilt,withadeeplylinedfaceonaslightlyoversizedhead,MauricewasaninterestingexampleoftherusticretiredFrenchman.Dressedinblue,hishairwasgraywithwhitepiping,andratherthanwearthetraditionalberet,MauriceoptedforaCAT(Caterpillar)farmequipmentballcap.Ourfirstmeetingsetthetoneforthosethatfollowed.

“BonjourMonsieur,”Isaid.Theyoungermaninitiatesandofferstheolderthetitle,Monsieur.

“Bonjour,”hereturnedwithawaryeye.

“Bonjour,MonsieurChien,”Iaddedforthedog.

Mauricebrightened,offeringthepup’snamewith,“Ils’appelleCabriole.”

SoIpattedthepooch’sheadandasked,“Cabriole,çava?”(How’sitgoing?)Mostmorningsthatfollowed,runningintome,Mauricewouldtouchmyarmforemphasisasheleanedclosetopassonthelatestgossip.UnfortunatelyhisFrenchwassoguttural,Iunderstoodverylittle.Wantingtobepolite,however,I’dofferameaninglesswordortwowheneverhe’dpause.SometimesitwouldbeaMauriceChevalier“Ooh,”withabitofgrowlattheend.C’estvrai(it’strue)wasgoodtoobecauseIcouldmakeitastatementoraquestiondependentonMaurice’sstateofagitation.Ouiwasobvious,butalors(well)wasn’tbadeither.I’vealwaysdoneagooduummm,inanylanguage,butwithMauriceI’dusuallytieit

toshakingmyheadandpouchingmylips.(AverybelievableFrenchcoupletifIdosaysomyself.)

Sometimeswe’d“talk”thiswayforminutes.SinceMauricewasquiteshort,I’dbehunchedoverlisteningtohim.Cabrioleusuallysat,lookingupattentivelywithhisonesparklyeye,firstatMaurice,thentome.Afteracoupleofmonthsofthis,MauricebecameconvincedIspokeexcellentFrenchandpassedthataroundtown.

FROMTIMEtotimechattingwithMauriceandCabriole,Inoticedawell-dressed,handsomeyounggentlemanobservingusfromfartheruprueBasque.Bingpickeduponhimtoo.Onenightshesawhimsittingaloneinhiscar,parkedonthesquarebythefountain,watchingher.Themotorwasn’trunning.Nothingwasgoingon,buttherehesat.Weird.

Actuallyitwasn’tuncommontoseemenaroundtownatallhours,dayornight.Thereweresomanyholidays,festivals,andvacations,fewappearedtoworryaboutworkthenextday.Thesocialsystemhelpedtoo.Everythingseemedtobesubsidized.Idon’tknowifitwasanactualjobcategoryornot,butBlackMountaindidseemtohaveonedrunk-in-residence.Apleasantfellow.Bynomeanswealthy,neverunruly,butalwaysgentlyinebriated.Hesatatonebaroranotherthroughouteachdayandapparentlystillcollectedastipendfromthegovernment.Sowewonderedaboutthehandsomeyoungmanwatchingfromhiscarlateatnight.Washeasubsidizedlate-nightcarsitter?Itwouldn’thavesurprisedus.

Oneday,approachingdinnertime,I’dpickedupsomethingsatthelittlegrocerybythefountainwhenthatfellowgotoutofhiscar,carefullylockedit,andapproachedmewithasmileandthecustomary

“Çava.”

Içava’dback,buthecametoastopdirectlyinfrontofmeandhelduphishandlikeatrafficcop.

“Doyoulikewine?”heasked,continuinginFrench.

Anunexpectedquestion,butIassuredhimIdid.Henodded,lookeduprueBasque,downrueBasque,thenbackatme.Hiseyeswereverydark,hishairshinyblackwithashockhangingoverhisforehead.

“DoyoulikeBordeauxwine?”hequestioned,narrowingtheinquiry.

Isaidoui,evennamingafewofthefamouschâteauxIcouldn’tafford.Henodded,lookedupanddownthestreetagain,andsaid,“Saturday.”

IassuredhimIknewSamediwasthewordforSaturday.

“Chezmoi,”(myhouse)headded.

“Why?Forwhat?”Iquestioned.

“Wine,Bordeauxwine.Wewillhaveabottletogether.”

Ididn’tknowexactlywhattosaysostalledabitbyasking,“Whattime?”expectinghe’dpicktheaperitifhour,sometimearoundsixorsevenPM.

“Nine,”hesaid.

“Aprèsmidi”,Isaid,meaningnineatnight.Alittlelateforaperitifs,butnottotallyoutofthequestiononaSaturday.

“No,”hereplied,“morning.”

Somehow,sippingeventhebestBordeauxwithbreakfastseemedastretch.Ideclined,temptedtosayI’dalreadycommittedtohittingafewbarswiththetowndrunk.ButIchickenedout.Tobesociable,Iaskedhim,“Whatdoyoudo?”

“Whatdoyoumean?”hereplied.

“Whatdoyoumean?”hereplied.

“Forwork.Whatworkdoyoudo?”

Moreeyesleftandright,then,withabitofahush,“Jesuisunagentsecret.”(Iamasecretagent.)

Whatthehelldoyousaytothat?ThenIsaid,“Biensûr”(ofcourse).Webothlookedupanddownthestreet.

“Areyouonajobnow?”Iasked.

“No,Iampresentlyunemployed,”hereplied,puffingacheekandgivingitathoughtfulblow.Expandingonhissituation,heindicatedhiscareerhadbeenimpactedbythemovefromhumantosatelliteintelligence.Ishruggedagreeably,butstillfeltcompelledtoask,“Isthatwhatyouputonyourunemploymentformatthetownhall?Agentsecret?”

“Biensûr”,hereplied.

ASOURgettingtoknowthefolksofrueBasqueprogressed,andforthatmatter,allofBlackMountain,workonthehouseacceleratedtoo.

TrakyaandAntonhadfriendswhopaintedhouseinteriors.They’dheardthestoryofourfallenstairwaywallandknewweneededhelp.Whenwe’dfirstbeenlookingforpainters,afterwefiredthetwoyoungpretenders,theirfriendshadbeenbusy.Nowtheywerefree.TrakyabroughtthembytocheckoutourjobthatSundaywhennooneelsewasthere.Theylookedtobeahusband,wife,andpartnerteam.

CarloFortdidnotpaintbychoice,onlytoputbreadonthetable.Hewasamusician,butcouldn’tsupporthimselfbyonlythumpingonasetofdrums.Trakyashowedusapictureofhimandhisbandwhilewewaitedforthemtoarrive.TherewasCarloandasaxplayer,aguitarist,afatguyonthetrumpet,andaxylo-phonist,whoalsosang.

afatguyonthetrumpet,andaxylo-phonist,whoalsosang.

Whenthethreearrived,itwasclearCarlo’swife,Eve,shouldhavebeenincludedintheirpublicitypictures,bandorhousepainting.Shewasbeautiful,inagypsysortofway.Highcheekbones,darkeyes,creamyolivecomplexion,longlegs,slimwithaself-assuredcarriagethatspokeofgoodbreeding.Thatfirstmeetingsheworeablackmockturtle,matchingslacks,andsturdyleatherboots.Shehadherheadwrappedinablacksilkbandana,makingmewonderifshewasBasque.Shedidn’tlooklikethewifeofaFrenchhousepainter,unlesshisnamewasMonet.

Carlo’spartnerwentbythenicknameNannou.Ihavenoideawhy.Ofcourse,formetorememberanythingclosetothename,Ihadtodoanotherofmyassociationdrills.“Nannou”soundedabitlike“Nanook,”asinNanookoftheNorth.Whichmademethinkofsnow(laneige).NeigeandNannoubeingsortofclose,IcalledhimNeige.

NeigelookedlikeDustinHoffmanwith,sadly,verybadteeth.Hewasahandsomefellow,untilhesmiled.WesawalotofthisinFrance,Englandtoo.OurlocaldentistinBlackMountaintoldusthatthehealthcaresystemhadn’tcovereddentistryuntilrecently.ToolateforNeige.Sadlyso,becauseotherwisehehadagraceabouthimthatwasgenuinelyattractive.

Assoonastheyarrived,Bingtookthelead,crunchingthemaroundonthefirstfloor.Shethenledthemupstairsandinandoutoftheroomsonthesecondandthirdfloors.Allthewhile,shewasbusynarratingthehorrorstoryofwhathadhappenedtoussofar,invastlyimprovedFrench,primarilybecauseitwasastorywebothhadtoldmanymanytimes.Shewentontodescribewhatwewouldtacklenexttoreversethesorrystateofthingsatthemoment.Iwasn’tgettingawordinedgewise

asthedynamicbecamemoreandmoreagal-to-galdeal.BingtalkedtoEve,whileCarlo,Neige,andIjustshuffledalongbehind.

Trakyahadn’tbeenabletostay,butbeforesheleft,herbetterFrenchhelpedusarrangeapost-inspectionconferenceatClaude’sCafédesFleurs.She’dfeltwe’dbeabletogetacrosswhatwewanteddone,soitwouldjustbeamatterofaddingupthesquaremeterstobepaintedandmultiplyingbytheirpriceper.

AftertheBing-to-Evetourdeforce,wetookatableatClaude’stotalknumbers.Overcoffeeandcroissants,itsurprisedusbothwhenCarlotooktheleadandflatlystatedtheydidn’twantthejob.Whatonearth?Afterpanickedexcursionsintoourdictionaries,BingandIfinallyfiguredoutthey’dgottentheideathewholeprojectwouldbetheirs.Notjustthepainting,butconstructiontoo.Bing’spresentationoftheproblemswe’dhad,whatstillneededdoing,supplementaltothepainting,hadbeeninterpretedasawholepackageforthethreeofthemtotackle.And,sincetheywereoff-the-bookstypes,d’argentliquide(cash)workers,theycouldn’triskbeingtooconspicuousaroundtown.Makingtheirmoneythiswaywascommonenough,acceptableaslongasitwaslow-key.Noonewantedtoattractthetaxcollector’sattention.

Anyway,ittookusalotofdictionaryworktoclarifythesituation.Allwewantedthemtodowaspaint.Andonlytheinterioratthat.Finallytheygotthepicture.Wesmiled.Theysmiled.Weorderedanotherroundofcaféaulaitwhiletheycalculatedtheprice.Itseemedfair.Weshookhandsandthedealwasmade.

AweeklaterwelearnedjusthowgoodanartistCarloreallywas.AthissuggestionwetookaSaturdaydrivetoToulouse,totheAirBusMuseum,wherehehaddoneaseriesofmuralsdepictinghow

perspectivecandefinedepthinspace.Inthelobby,aswellasinotherrooms,he’dpaintedscenesthatlookedtobeviewsoutwindowsontothesurroundingcountryside…butinfactweresimpletwo-dimensionalrepresentations,trompe-l’oeil.IcouldhaveswornIwaslookingoutrealwindows,notjustatwalls.Itwassurreal.Theguywasanexceptionaltalentwithabrush,butonewhoonlywantedtobangsticksonadrum.Akindredspirit.Iwasgoodatflyingairplanes,butonlywantedtoputinkonpaper.Andastimewenton,Carlobecamelikeayoungerbrothertome,andanartisticconfidantforBing.

So,sincebreakingoffwithJean-JacquesandLaila,we—actuallymoreBingthanI—werediscoveringmoreelements,deliciouselementsofthevillageanditspeople.JustthethoughtandsightofMauriceandCabriolecomingdownthestreeteachmorning,thewarmvolunteeringsupportofTrakyaandAnton’sdrollasides,Adrian’sconcernforusevenashecarriedsuchaheavyloadofhisown,alltheshopkeepers,Claude’ssometimesbizarrecouncil—therewassomuchtheretoexperiencethatitwasslowlydawningthatBlackMountainwasbecomingatrueresourceinourlives,notadetriment.AsBingwouldpaintthevillageanditspeople,Imightevenbeabletotelltheirstories…andours.

TWENTY-THREEFASCIST

SINCEJEAN-JACQUESandLailahadrunusoutoftheirlives,wewerecaughtoffguardMondaywhenJean-JacquesstoppedbyrueBasque.WeheardhisvoicedownstairsaskingPlacowhereLaurantwas.WhenIcamedownfromthesecondfloor,hescootedoutwithonlyacursorywaveashepulledthefrontdoorshut.Clearlyhedidn’twanttotalktomeanymorethanIwantedtotalkwithhim.

I’dbeenonmywayoutanyway,butwaitedtillhegotfurtheruptowardthefountainwhereIsawhe’dparkedhisMercedes.IwassurprisedtoseehimwalkpasthiscarandturnintothehousewhereBingandIfirstsawtheLaRousse&Filsvan.Thatseemedodd.Jean-Jacquesnevermentionedhavinganinterestinthatplace.WeknewheandLailahadpurchasedatleasttwohousesneartheécole,butthey’dneversaidanythingaboutbuyingoneonrueBasque.AmomentlaterI

wasevenmoresurprisedtoseeLaurantpulluponhisscooterandwalkintothesamehouse.

Littlefiresofsuspicionstartedtoburn.Jean-Jacqueshadbeentheonewholaidoutouroriginalworkplans.He’dchosenwhowouldbehired.LauranthadsaidsomethingaboutJean-Jacquesputtingintothedevisthatwewoulduseourowncontractors.Andwhendelaysdeveloped,Jean-Jacquesexplainedthemawayfirstascontractualproblemswiththedépartement,theninfrontofLaurant,butinEnglish,asweatherissues.Laurantdidn’tknowwhatJean-Jacquestoldus.Ever.Somethingwasn’tright.Iwasgettingangry,butwhowasIgoingtogetangryat?

NOONTIME,BINGsuggestedwetakeawalk.IguessedshefigureditwasnodaytogetlogyfromoneofClaude’shugelunches.Shruggingapackontoherback,shesteeredmedowntheroadbythecorralandthetwohorsesweoccasionallybefriendedwithapples,pastthesheepinthelowerfield,furtherdowntherock-walledlanetoalemontreeBinglikedtositunder.Oneofherquietplaces.

Shehadalotofstuffinthepack:twosmallbottlesofBadoit(amineralwater),somecheese,olives,twoslicesofham,apetitpain,apples,andchocolate.Spreadingthebountybetweenus,napkinstoo,shejumpedstraightintowhatwasonhermind.

“Kenny,you’reworryingme.Itfeelslikeyou’reabombwaitingtoexplode.Please,sometimesthingshappenwecan’tfixrightaway.Butthatdoesn’tmeantheywon’tevergetfixed.”Shesaidthiswhilecuttingthefirstappleinhalf,thenquarters,thenintoeighths,scoopingouttheseedsandhandingmemyshare.

“Thanks,”Isaidtakingit,marvelingathowcompartmentalizedshecouldbe.Evenwhensomethingdevelopedbetweenus,shemightfireafewshots,butthenwouldretreatintoherchamberofsilence.AnenclosureIsurelydidnothavethekeyto,which,attimes,onlyuppedtheanteofmy…what?Discomfort?Nowandthenagitation?Sometimesevenanger.

“You’reright.Idofeelthatway.Butlook.Ihadthemanuscript’soutlinedonebeforeweleftnumber10,butonlythat.Itshouldhavebeenafinishedproductmonthsago.Ishouldbesittinginapublisher’sofficerightnow,orwithVernonatDreamWorks,butinsteadI’mstumblingaroundinthatdumpofahouse…makinganassofmyselftryingtospeakaforeignlanguage…andworryingaboutyourwonderfulhandsgettinghurtworkinglikeyoudo,maybeleavingyouunabletopaint.Soyes,Imaybeabombreadytoblow,butIthinkforgoodreason.”

Layingoutthecheddarandchèvre,Bingcutthemintosquaresandpiercedtwowithtoothpicksfromherkit.“Don’tworryaboutme,”shesaid,holdinghalfthesquaresouttome,“Icantakecareofmyself.”

“I’llgiveyouthat,sure,butthemesswe’reinhereisdifferentforyou.You’reknown.YouexhibitinNewYork.YouhadashowinBarcelonalastyear.You’reclosetogettingintoMoMA.Youcanfloatthroughsomethinglikethis,butIamnobody.Ihaven’tevenpublished,forGod’ssake.Soyes,I’mfrustratedashell,andthismessisn’thelping.”

“Iknowit’shard,butIknowyou’regoingtomakeit.Kenny,yourbookcouldbesnappedupbyapublisherevenunfinished.Youdon’tknow.”

“Unfinished?Noway,”Isaid.

“Unfinished?Noway,”Isaid.

“Thenfinishit,”shesaid,tearingchunksoffthebaguettelikethelocalsdid.

“Shit,”Ifiredback.Sheliftedaneyebrowatmylanguage.“It’snotthateasy.Writingisnotliketurningafaucetonandoff.Ican’tworkthehousetillnineortenatnight,thensitdownandwritebrilliantstuff.”

“Youcanwriteeverymorningandworryaboutthehouseafterthat.”“Dearlady,”nowIwasgettinghot.“Thatdamnedhousehastogetfinishedbeforeanythingelsegetsdone.Weonlyhavesomuchtimeonourvisas,andifweleaveherewithoutitbeingfinished,wellhell,weknowwhathappensthen.You’veseenwhathappenswhenwe’renothere.”

“Priorities,”shesaid,muchlikemyfourthgradeteacherhad.

“Balls!”IsnappedandthrewmyBadoitbottle,bouncingitoffherpreciouslemontree.Iwastorqued.Iwasn’tsurewhy,butsowhat?Igotupandstrodelikeabigangryassholedowntheroadbacktowardthatf’inghouse…thatchainaroundmyneck.

BINGSTAYEDgonefortherestoftheafternoon.Istayedpissedfortherestoftheafternoon.Iknewshewastuckedintoanotherofherquietplacessomewhere,meditating,beingrationalandmature.Probablysketchingpastoralstoo.WhileIwasstormingaroundlookingforsomeonetopunchorsomethingtobreak.Allofwhichonlymademeangrier;thenangrierstillbecauseIwas…angrierstill!I’dhatetothinkwhatlabelapsychiatristwouldputonme;andcontemplatingthatdidn’thelponedamnbiteither.

WhenBinggotback,thesunwasjustaboutdown.Hersketchbookwasfullofgreatstuff.Icongratulatedherontheworkandwebothmadeahugeeffortnottogetallinatangleagain.Whichworkeduntil

madeahugeeffortnottogetallinatangleagain.WhichworkeduntilwewereinthecardrivingbacktoSoual.

“Kenny,you’vegottotrytodealwiththingsinwaysthatdon’tchangeyou,”shesaidlookingoveratmeinthePrincessDiwayshehad—headdown,eyesup.

“HowamIsupposedtodothat?”

“Ican’ttellyouhow,onlywhatIdo,”shesaid.“Duringthetroublesinmyfirstmarriage,IknewIhadtofindawaytohandlethings,awaythatwouldn’tdamagethekids.Ihadtodealwithalotofsituationsthatcouldhaverippedmyrelationshipwiththemapart.Ittookacarefulbalance.IntimeIbegantoseetheroutetherewasbyestablishinganinnerpeace,acalmcenterwhereIcouldthinkmoreclearly,andradiatingstabilitytothem.Sure,Icouldhavebeenveryangry.Itwouldhavebeeneasytolashoutatmyhusband,whowouldhavedeservedit,butitwouldonlyhavemademattersworse.Itwouldhavemademejustlikewhatandwhowerehurtingmeso.”

“Sowhatdidyoudo?”

“Igotintomeditation,”Binganswered.

“AhBing,I’mnotthetype.I’mfromBoston,notBerkeley,”Isaid,andthenwishedIhadn’t.

Bingbitintoalastpieceofapple,thenturnedtolookoutherwindowatafarmhouseandthefieldsaroundit.Shedidn’tsayanythingforquiteawhile…makingherpointinherownway.

“Okay,you’reprobablyright,”Ifinallysaid,alittlehuffinmyvoice,“butthere’snowayIcansitallscruncheduplikeamonkforanhour.WhatwouldIthinkabout?HowwouldIkeepmymouthshut?Whyeventry?”

eventry?”

“Actuallyit’squitesimple.Ratherthanthinkingaboutsomething,Igothroughaprocessofemptyingmymindofallitseverydaythoughts.FirstIfocusonthesimplestofthings—thecurvatureofskinwheremynosemeetsmyupperlip,forinstance.Oncethere’snothingelsebutthatspotinmymind,I’llfeelapricklingofchangethere,”shesaidtouchingtheplacewithherindexfinger.

“Whatchangeareyoutalkingabout?”Iasked,feelingmildlystupid.

“Ourbodiesareconstantlychanging.Everysecond.Oldcellsdie.Newonesareborn.Skin,muscle,bonesareallpartoftheprocess,”Bingexplained.“SoItrytotuneinon,concentrateon,thesechangesthroughoutmybody.It’sinthatconcentrationIpracticestillness.Sectionbysection,skin,muscle,nervesandbones,Iconcentrateontheirsensationsofchangeallcontributingtothelargerplaceofstillness…myheart…soul.Oncethat’sestablished,Iworktostaywithinit.Ifmymindwanders,ifmyfocusfalters,Igobacktowheremyconcentrationbrokeoff.Ihavetodothatgently,fightingoffanyfrustration.Thatservesitsownpurpose.Ithelpsmedealwiththefrustrationofeverydayfailures.AndthroughouttheprocessIcometoabetterunderstandingofhoweachofus,evenlifeitself,isaworkinprogress.Somethingnevertotallyfinished.Nevertotallyperfect,butalwaysrenewable.Alwaysabletobeginagain,lettinghardtimespass.”

Shepausedforamoment,givingmethechancetoask,“Butwhysuchanexercise?Whatdoesitaccomplish?”

“Peace,thestateorplaceofpeace…allmyown,renewable,expandableeveryday.Itfreesmeoftheharm,theclamor,theclatteroftheworldoutside.Kenny,youarethepragmatist.Thinkaboutyour

bloodpressuregoingdown.Yourheartbeatingmoreregularly,slower.Alltheelementsoflivingbeingmorecoherent.Andindoingthat,youfindyourselfexperiencingatrueunionofmindandmatter,makingyoumorewhole,lesstornapartbythingsoutsideyou.Likethethingshere.Thehouse.Jean-Jacques.Notgettingyourwritingdone.Allthosethingsthattearyoudown.”

Ididn’tknowwhattosay,sosaidnothing.ProbablymyfirstbabysteptowardthatmeditationalpeaceBingwastryingtogiftme.Godblessher.Icouldlearnsomuchfromher,butIhadthisawfulsensationthatIwouldn’t.Therewastoomuchmeinme.

OURTIMEinSoualwasgivingusinsightsintolifeonaFrenchfarm.I’dneverlivedwithahundredormorecowsbefore,ofanynationality,sotherewasalottoabsorb.Forinstance,weweretoldsomeEUfarmerskeeptheircowsinsidefeederbarnstheentirewinter.Thetheoryisthatduringthosemonthsthereisn’tenoughforageoutsideanyway,sowhyhavethecowswanderingaroundinthecoldusingupenergythattheyneedtoproducemilk?Whynotfeedtheminarelativelywarm,secureenvironmentwherelessfodderisrequiredtoproduceevenmoremilk?Theonlyflyinthatointmentistheissueofpoop.Thoughpopularwithflies,itstillconstitutesachallengetothefarmer’senergyreservetoshovel,haul,dump,andstoremanureforspreadinginthespring.

Thefarmersaroundusworkedhard.Unliketheirtowncousins,whoseemtohaveacresoffreetime.ThefarmsthemselvesareupscalefromthehardscrabbleaffairscommontoournativeNewEngland.Stonebarns,stonefarmhouses,stoneservicebuildingsallroofedwithtileorslate.Everythingisdur,builttolastand,inmostcases,alreadyhas

lastedfivehundredtoathousandyears.Woodisnotconsidereddur.

Theirequipmentwasgenerallynew,soitneededminimalmaintenance.Largetractors,smalltractors,spreaders,bailers,everykindofbigticketitemsaVermontercouldonlydreamof,weresnuginourSoualstonebarns.Noneofitwasleftoutsidetorust.

ThequalityoffoodtheFrenchsystemproducesseemsunrivaledtoo.Thetomatoestastedsweetandjuicy,notlikecardboard.Everyvegetablewe’dbuyattheSaturdaymorningmarché.hadlevelsofflavorwe’donlyheardabout,buthardlytasteduntilwegottoBlackMountain.OurAmericanbeefisfarbetter,butforgetaboutgettingintoacheesewarwiththesepeople.CharlesdeGaullewasreportedtohaveremarked,“Howcanoneexpecttogovernacountrywith258varietiesofcheese?”(ThoughthefamouscheeseexpertRolandBarthélemysaidthegoodgeneralwasoffabit;thenumberwasprobablycloserto365.)

Thenthereisthebread,wine,duck,rabbit,andostrich(whichwefoundindistinguishablefromfiletmignon),tosaynothingoftheincredibleoysters,mussels,shrimp,andseafoodlayinginthemarché.stallsjustwaitingforustowalkby.Oh,okay,Americawinsoncrackerstoo,butwithbreadliketheFrenchhave,whocaresaboutcrackers?

Americansroarthroughourdaysinpursuitoftheall-mightybuckforthesecurityitbrings,butwemissalotofgoodlivingintheprocess.OnedayBingsaid,“Kenny,peoplearesocivilhere.TheBonjourasweenterashop,orpassonthestreet.Andthewayclerksreallytrytohelp,almostasfriends.”

“ExceptatLumière,”Isaid,mentioningtheelectricalshopinCastresthatseemedtofindjoyingivingusahardtime.Astorerunanddominatedby,Ifigured,NurseRatched’ssister.

dominatedby,Ifigured,NurseRatched’ssister.

“Butthat’sbeentheonlyexception,”shepointedout.“Maybeit’sthesystem.Peoplehavesecurity,sotheydon’tworrysomuch.Trakyatoldmetheotherdaythatthesummerbookingsfortheartworkshopswerewayoff.Shesaidshe’dprobablylosetwo-thirdsofhersummerincome,butthenshesmiled,sayingshedidn’tcare.Nowshewouldhavemoretimewithherkids.Themoneylosswasnotanissue.”

“Thequalityofpeopleinthesimplestjobs,thecheckoutclerksforexample,seemsmuchhigherthanathome,”Iadded.“Ithinksalariesareincidentalsincethebenefitsaresoextravagant.”

“Andtheslowerpace,”Bingsaid.“Idon’tseemanyType-A’saround.Besidesyou,ofcourse,”shesaidwithasmile.

“Right.ProbablybecauseI’mnotinthesystem.Youeither,love,”Ismiledback.

“It’sagentlerworldhere,”Bingconcluded.

“Butcanitlast?”Iasked.

“Probablyforaslongaswe’llbearound.Solet’senjoyit,”shesaid,leaninghershoulderagainstmyarm.

“EveninEnglishyousoundFrench,”Isaid.

“Careful,IspeaksomeGermantoo,”Bingcountered,bumpingmewithherhipagain.

OURCOMMUTEeachmorningtookusthroughtwosmalltownswehadn’tknownbefore.Usuallywe’dstopforbreadinoneortheother,grabacoffeeatacafé,ordropintooneofthemarkets.Wegottoknowpeopleineach,aswehadinBlackMountain.Becauseweworkedonthelanguage,laughingaboutourscrew-ups,thelocalshadfunplayingteacher.

Wewereprogressing.SometimespeopleaskedifwewereSwiss,orDutch,orFrench-Canadian.Thatmeantalot.Notthatwearen’tproudofbeingAmericans,notatall;butitwashearteningtohaveadaptedenoughtobethoughtmoreapartoftheirEuropeanworld.AlotofAmericans,aswellasBrits,seemtolocateinexclusiveenclaves.Theydon’tjointhecommunity,creatingLittleAmericasorLittleEnglandsinthelandtheyprofesstowanttoknowbetter.Wewonderedwhytheyevenbotheredcoming.

Ourdayswerelongevenwithoutmuchwritingorpainting.Early,beforeLaurant’smenarrived,we’dwalkthroughtheplacedecidingwhatwasgettingscrewedupandhowbesttostraightensomethingoutbeforeitwastoolate.ThedayRougeandMichelthemasonweretearinguphalfthemasterbedroomfloor,loweringittomatchthelevelofwhathadearlierbeenalittlehallway,wasanexampleofsuchstraightening.First,watchingthetilescomeup,wediscoveredhowtheseoldsouthwesternFrenchhouseswerebuilt.Usuallythreestories,mostofthehousesinBlackMountainweredesignedasakindofstone-encasedpost-and-beam.Themostsurprisingpartofthelayoutwashowthesecondfloorswereputtogether.Asprotectionagainstthelongsummers’heat(when?),aswellastolockoutwintercold,themedievalbuilderswouldlaytightlyabuttedboardsacrossthefirstfloor’smassiveceilingbeams.Withthesepeggedorspikedinplace,they’dspreadaboutaneight-inchlayerofsandorsomethingsimilarovereverything,walltowall.Nextthey’dlaytileoverthatasthefloorforthesecondlevel.Greatthermalandacousticalinsulation,thoughwehatedtothinkabouthowmanytonsofwood,sand,andtilewouldbeoverourheadswhilewesatinthelivingroom.

AsRougeandMichelstartedtore-laythefloor,Bingsaid,“Kenny,they’reputtingthetilesdownjustanyoldway.Asifthey’rethesamesizeandshape.”

“Whatdoyoumean?”Iasked,notimmediatelypickinguponwhatshewastalkingabout.“They’realllevelandthesamecolor.What’stheproblem?”

“Thesizesandshapes.aren’tright,”shesaidwithsomeirritation.Thenanotherelementcameintoplay:BinghadtotalkwithRougethroughmetogetanythingdone.She’dsaysomethingdirectlytohimorhispeopleandtheireyeswouldturntome.Ontheotherhand,LaurantwouldonlyspeaktoBing.Itwasasifthelowerdownthepeckingorderyouwent,thelesswomenhadaplaceinthings.Eitherthat,or,asI’dwonderedaboutbefore,didLauranthaveathingforBing?

“MonsieurRouge,s’ilvousplaît…”Ibegan,andthenwentoffinmyhackneyedFrenchonhowthetwotypesoftilecouldn’tbebuttedagainsteachotherbecausetheirshapesweredifferent.Onesetsquare,theotherrectangular.

“Butthisishowweweretoldtodoit,”Rougereplied.

“Whotoldyou?”Iasked,expectingLaurantwastheonepushingspeed.

“MonsieurKurtz,”wasthesurprisinganswer.

IlookedatBing,shebackatme.Whatwasgoingon?

“Rouge,pleasecallLaurantonhiscellphone,”Isaid.“Askhimtocomehere.”

ONCELAURANTwasthere,hesaid(toBing),“Iseetheproblem,butMonsieurKurtzsaidnottowastetimeworkingthetiles.Keepeverything

simple.”

“Laurant,”shesaid,“thatwasbeforeweagreedwithyou.thatthisfloorwouldbeaddedtothedevis.Tworoomsintoone;ceilingsdown;wallsout;everything.Thesecondfloormustmatchtherestofthehouse.”

“Butyoudidnotsayanythingaboutfloortiles,”hereplied,irritatinglyanal.“Foranyofthesechangeswemustgototimeandmaterial,”hesaid.(Devis.werecontractorestimatesthatthecontractorcouldnotchangeafteragreedto.Ifthehomeownermadethechange,furtherworkbecametimeandmaterial,andpossiblyopen-ended.)

Bingtookthebullbythehorns.Gettingdownonhandsandknees,shetookthesquaretilesandbuttedthemagainsttherectangularones,thensaid,“Désagréable,oui?Mais…ifyouplacearowofthesebricksbetweenthetwo…commeça,voila!”

Asshesaidthisshewaslayingaherringbonepathoftiles.Anditlookedterrific.Laurantstaredatit,thenatBing.RougestaredatBing.Michelstaredatthedividingpatternandnodded.BingandIsmiledateachother.Thefloorwasgoingtolookgreat.Andwefeltgreat.

ASPLEASANTasitwastosolveproblemsworkingalongsideLaurant’sguys,thelongdaysledtodifficultnights.Aftertheyleft,weweresoinvolvedwithwhateverthejobofthedaywasthatnightwouldbeuponusbeforewerealizedit.Thesundoesn’tsetinJuneuntilnearten.Withlightstillinthesky,wewouldlosetrackofhowlateitactuallywas.

Christophe,ourerstwhileelectrician,wouldoftenshowupatsomecrazyhourtoo.Sinceheworkedaloneasanindependentcontractor,hebrokealltheFrenchworkrules,especiallydietary.Theguywasthinasa

brokealltheFrenchworkrules,especiallydietary.Theguywasthinasarail,andwewerelearningwhy.Unmarried,hedidn’teatmuchmorethanwhathecouldcarryinabackorjacketpocketwhilehestrungwiresandsolderedconnections.SometimesBingwouldbringhimsomethingfromthefarm,butusuallyhewashappywithhiscrustofbreadandachunkofcheesetognawon,hopefullytakenoutofthecoatpocket.

Itwasgreattohavesomeoneshowupafterhourslikethat,butwequestionedwhyhewasn’taroundmoreduringtheday.Intimewebegantosuspecthisotherjobsdidn’tinvolvecrazyAmericans.

Somenights,evenaslateasteno’clock,we’dfindourselveslockingupandfeelingsotiredtheideaoffixingsupperbackatthefarmseemedjusttoomuch.Theonlyplaceinthevillageopenatthathour,withanychanceoffood,wasLaBrasserie.

Inthebeginningwedidn’tknowMichel,thepropriétaire,thatwell.WehadstoppedinafewtimesinJanuarywhenwefirstwereinBlackMountain.Welikedsittinginfrontofthehugewalk-infireplace.We’dwarmourselvesandbreathethearomaofthepotofstewhangingfromlacrémaillère.LaBrasseriewasincrediblycharming.Ithadoriginallybeenastableandtackroomservingtheancientmilitaryacademyacrosstheway.Ithadhighceilingswithwonderfuloldbeamsbridgingfromonegreatstonewalltotheother.Thebar,maybefivemeterslong,runninghalfthelengthofthehugeroom,greetedusaswecamein.

Onenightlate,BingandIstaggeredindogtired,coveredinplaster,paint,evenbloodinBing’scase,aftershebangedherheadonajoistspikeonthethirdfloor.Whatasightwemusthavemade.

Literallyhatinhand,IapologizedtoMichelasbestIcouldforour

appearance,andaskediftherewasanypossibilityforsomefoodatsuchalatehour.ItwasaquietTuesdaynight.Afewgrizzledtypeswereatthebar.Onlyonetablewasstillset.Theirs.He,hiswifeJesselyne,andtheirtwoteenageboyswerefinallysittingdowntodinner.Andyet,withouttheslightesthesitationandasmilingbiensûr,hegrabbedtwomorechairsandplacesettingsforustojointhem.

Weweretouched.OurroughFrenchonlydestroyedtheconvivialityoftheirquietdinnertogether.Wefeltterriblyawkward,yetwarmlywelcomed.Fortheweekswhilewestruggledwiththatdamnhouse,Micheltreateduslikethat,family.

Interestinglyenough,MicheldidwondersforallBlackMountain.Thursdaynightshebroughtclassicalmusicensemblestothevillage—strings,orwoodwinds,sometimesbrass.Therewasonecellisthe’doccasionallybookwhowouldpacktheplace.FridayandSaturdaynightswereforjazz.Terrific.TherewasasaxophonistfromPariswho’dsometimesappear,strollingincasually,likethetotallycoolsingerYvesMontand.Hewouldn’tbothertowarmup.Justopenhiscaseastheotherswereplaying,assemblehisinstrument,thenjumpinwithasolothatwouldblowthelocalsoutoftheroom.OnetimeanothersaxplayerfromToulousewassittingin.Hewasn’tabouttostepaside,sowhenthetwoofthemwentheadtohead,man,itwasanighttoremember.AsakidI’dplayedthesax,butInevergotnearthewaytheseguysblew.

Thedrummerwastheleadvocalist.HesoundedlikeTonyBennettandwouldsinghisversionsofdreamyAmericanballads.“ILeftMyHeartinSanFrancisco”sunginFrenchbyaguywhosoundedlikeBennettwasweirdbutterrific.

TheHoagyCarmichael–lookingpianoplayerwasanoldguywithanAhmadJahmaltouchwhowasanexpertatcadgingdrinksfrom

AhmadJahmaltouchwhowasanexpertatcadgingdrinksfromcharacterslikeyourstruly.Wegotalonggreat.

LittlebylittleweweremakingalotoffriendsinBlackMountain.Becausewedidn’tyethaveahouseofourown,westartedusingLaBrasserieasaplacetotakepeoplefordinner.Ifweinvitedanoldercouple,we’dtakethemthereonaThursdaynightfortheclassicalmusic.Withyoungerpeoplewe’dgofortheFridayorSaturdayjazz.Onenight,whenweaskedTrakyaandAntontojoinustherefordinner,theysaidflatly,“Non.”Whichseemedstrange.Whatcouldbetheproblem?Theyweresolaidbackandcertainlymusiclovers,whythe“No”?WhenIaskedwhatwaswrongwithLaBrasserie,theysaid,“Wedon’tgothere.TheownerisaFascist.”

“Michel?MichelaFascist?”.BingandIwereamazed.“Yes.HeisaFascistandwewillhavenothingtodowithhimorhiskind.”

Afewotherpeoplesaidthesamething.Itseemedcrazy,consideringnobodyinthatniftylittlevillagehadbeenbettertousthanMichelandhisfamily.Hebrokebreadwithus.Sharedhisprivatetable.OriginallyhehelpeduscontactChristophetheelectricianandtriedtostepintoLaMaisonFramboisegardensituationtoo.Theguyneverstoppedbeinghelpful.OnetimeBingevennoticedMichelpouringabottleofgoodestatewineintoourcaraferatherthanthevindupays.Nazimybutt.

OneeveningwhentheplacewaspracticallyemptyandI’dgainedsomegroundlinguistically,IaskedMicheltositdownforaglasswithusandIsaid,“Someofourfriendswillnotcomehere.Theysay,MichelisaFascist.Whatdoesthatmean?Are.youaFascist?”

Herolledhiseyes.Itwasasifhe’dbeenexpectingthisforsometime.Lookingawayforamoment,thendoingthetraditionalcheek-puff-and-blow-with-shrug,hesaid,“Onepresidentialelection,thecandidateswere

blow-with-shrug,hesaid,“Onepresidentialelection,thecandidateswereintheregionmakingspeeches.IsentwordtotheirpeoplethatIwouldopentheBrasserieforthemtocomeandspeak.Debate.ButtheonlyonewhocamewastheConservativecandidate.Becauseofthat,IhavebeenbrandedaFascist.”

“That’sit?That’sall?”Iasked.

“Wasthatinthelastelectionorwhen?”Bingquestioned.

Michellookedatthetwoofuswithanironicsmileandsaid,“Bing,thatwasnearlytwentyyearsago.”Thenheasked,“HowlonghavethepeoplelivedinBlackMountainwhowon’tcomehere?”

Hah!TrakyaandAntonhadlivedhereforfiveyears,sothiswholedealhappenedfifteenyearsbefore.theyevencametoBlackMountain!Muchthesamestoryfortheotherstoo.Ridiculous.

Then,quietly,hiseyesmovingfromminetoBing’s,hesaid,“Bing.Ken.HowcouldIeverbeaFascist?IamaJew!”

THEREAREN’TthatmanyJewsinFranceanymore,butthereisstillconsiderableanti-Semitism.Onetime,awomanwhowouldn’tgotoLaBrasseriewithusmadealongspeechemphasizingthatwhattheFascistshaddonetotheJewswastheprimaryreasonshecouldneverhaveanythingtodowithMicheloranyonelikehim.

Ourfrienddidn’tleaveitatthateither,shecontinuedwaxinglyricalaboutthebrillianceoftheJewishpeople,theirsensitivity,theirinterestintheclassics,andtheirlongandendlesssuffering.Finallyshesummedupwithaflat,“IloveJewishpeople.”

“Excellent,”Isaidandreachedacrossthetabletotouchherhand,“allthemorereasonforjoiningusattheBrasserie.”

“Why?Idon’tunderstand,”shesaid.

“It’ssimple,”Isaid,lookingherstraightintheeye,“Michel,yousee,isaJew.”

Thewoman’smouthdroppedopen.Hereyeswentwide.Shestartedshakingherhead.Shetriedtospeak,butatfirstonlymanagedagasp.Thenshesaid,“MichelaJew?IcannotbelievesuchamancouldeverbeaJew.HeisaFascist.Hecannotbeboth.”

“Exactlythepoint,”Bingoffered.

“ButIdon’tthinkmanypeopleknowthatheisJewish,”Iadded.“Perhapsitwillbeeasierforhimifitremainsthatway.”

Idon’tthinkourfriendunderstoodus.Itwasasifshewasinthemidstofanintenseinternalstruggle.Finallysheblurtedout,“TherewerelotsofNaziswhochangedfrombeingJews.”

“NotiftheSSknewaboutit,”Icountered.

“Self-hatingJewswhojoinedtheFascists.Andthey.weretheworst.”

“DoyouhonestlybelieveMichelisoneofthose?”

“Hemustbe.”

“Buthetoldushisparentsdiedinthecamps.”

“Someonewhowouldsidewiththosewhomurderedhisownparentsistheworst.”

Thiswasgettingreallyweird.Itriedanothertack.“YouhavesaidyouareaChristianwhohateswhattheFascistsdidtotheJews.”

“Yes,ofcourse,”shereturned.

“Okay,then,asaChristian,aren’tyouobligedtogotoMichelandaskhimaboutthis?Ifheisbeingfalselyaccused,andyoudonothingtofindoutforyourself,aren’tyouhurtingyourselfalso?”

“Idon’twanttotalkaboutthisanymore,”shesaid.

“Idon’twanttotalkaboutthisanymore,”shesaid.

Istartedtospeak.Somethinglikethiscouldn’tjustbedropped.WhataboutMichel,forheaven’ssake?BingputherhandonmykneeandforonceIdidshutup,thoughIfeltguiltydoingso.

“Ken,”Bingsaidlater,“we’vealreadyalienatedonesetoffriendsoverhowChristiansshouldtreatpeople.That’senoughfornow.Let’sjustletherworkthisoutforherself.”

IT’SSADhownegativeweallcanbesometimes,yethowencouragingwhenitcanbeturnedaroundforthegood,asinMichel’scase.Heretheaccusedprovedhimselfgreaterthanhisattackers.Forusitwasawake-upcall.Thesettingwassmall,thoughtheissuewaslarge.Andpeoplearejustpeople,everywhere.Notsaints.HereinBlackMountainweknewalltheplayers,peoplewesaweverydayandliked.Yetthequestionraisedwas:Howcansuchgoodpeoplegetthingssowrong?Thegoodnewsinthisinstancewasthatit’snevertoolatetochange.Asourfrienddid,finallyjoiningusfordinnerandwarmconversationwithhernewfriend,MichelBond.

TWENTY-FOURGREENFIRE

THOUGHWHATlittleworkIwasstartingtogetinonfinishingmynovelwasminiscule,ChâteauPoubelle’srenovationwasprogressingsmartly.ThetimewhenBingandIcouldstartlivingtherewasinchingcloser.Placohaddoneyeoman’sworkputtingupnewwallsonthesecondfloor.He’dlayeredinacousticalandthermalinsulationbehindtheplacoplâtre,reducingnotonlystreetnoise,butthatbetweentheroomsaswell.

CarloandNeige,thoughnoEvebecauseshewasdownwiththegrippe,hadpaintedtheirwayfromthethirdfloor,aroundthestairwelltothesecond,finishingtheguestbedroomandourbedroom,andwerethenlaboringinwhatwouldbethemasterbathafterIgotthetub,shower,andotherfixturesinplace.SinceChristophewasalsoaplumber,hecouldn’tstopgivingmeadvice.MostofwhichIdidn’tunderstand,whilewhatIdid,Itendedtoignore.I’dplumbedthree

housesathome.Someofhisideas,andmywayofdoingthings,didn’tjibe.

Rouge,Placo,Bruno,andDeux,andoccasionallyadditionalcameocastmembers,werenowdoingalotofgruntworkknockingoutwallsandceilingsonthefirstfloor.But,ashardasanyoftheseguysworked,noneputinamoredifficultdaythanBing.ShewasteamedwithCarlo,askedtochasedowntherightcolors,typesofpaints,andrunerrands,inadditiontosteamingwallpaperoffthefewsalvageablewalls,thenplasteringinthenecessarypatches.Everyonewashugelyimpressedwithhergrit.Idoubtthey’dseen,orworkedalongside,awomanlikeBingbefore.GloriaSteinemwouldhavebeenproud.

Thencame,finally,somesummerheat.Thunderheadssuckedinstronggustsofelectricallyloadedair,showersfellinsheets,butaftereachstormthehumiditydisappeared.We’dgotobedwithwarmandbeautifulsunsets,onlytowakeupacouplehourslatergrabbingforcovers.SuchwasthestrangeweatherofLaMontagneNoire.

Bingcontinuedtobeaheckofalotbetteratbeing“French”withourstrugglesthanIwas.Ofcourse,shehadthatcenterofcalmbuiltaroundsuchthingsasAl-Anon’sGod,grantmetheserenitytoacceptthethingsIcannotchange;thecouragetochangethethingsIcan;andthewisdomtoknowthedifference.

ONEDAYwetookanafternoonoff,butwentourseparateways.BingthrewonherbackpackfullofartstufftohikeupLaMontagneNoire’sfirstridge,calledBerniquaut.HertwooldhorsefriendswhoenjoyedtheapplesshebroughtwerestillpasturingthereandposingforBing’slatestsketchestofilloutherDreamHorsesseries.

Islippedintomylong-neglectedrunningtogs.10Kordie!Nomoresighsandbitching.Backtohealthandhappiness.TherewasatimeIranhugedistances,caughtupinthatcultureofmarathonrunningtoprovemyself-worth,keeptheweightdown,andstillbeabletodrinklotsofbeer.SixteenmilesadayI’drun.Mydearlatewifeoncesaidofit,“Ken,ifyourunjustonemoremileaday,you’llbecomethemostboringmanI’veeverknown.”WhichIdidn’ttakeasavoteofconfidenceformyprogram,nomatterhowIlookedatit.Butthatwasthen.ThoughI’dmanagedtokeepuponthebeerpart,myrunninghadfallenoffseverely.Atonetime10Khadhardlycountedasaworkout,nowitwasachallenge.

BeingaNewEnglander,countrytomemeantnarrowwindingroadsthroughsmallfarms,overhillsandminormountainswithtallpinesmarchinguptheirslopes.It’sthelandof“What’saroundthenextturnintheroadlesstraveled?”

Vastopenlandswerenotmyheritage.IhadbeentotheScottishHighlands,renownedforterrainlikethat,butIneverranthere.DuringthoseearlierhoneymoonweeksinBlackMountainwhenI’dhadmoretimeforsuchthings,Iwasstruckbythealmosteerieaffectthevastrollingfieldshadonme.So,asIchuggedalongthatafternoon,Ifoundmyselfextraordinarilyconsciousofthepoweroftheearthunderandaroundme.Thecropswerediverse—sunflowers,soybeans,rye,mustard,barley,peas,beans,corn,andvaststretchesofwheatnearinganotherharvest.Ifeltincrediblyinsignificanceinthisvastness.HerewasthenourrituretofeedallofFranceandmuchofEuropepushing,pushinghardupfromtheearth.

AsachildI’dhadonlyonenightmare,butI’dhaditoften.Iwouldfindmyselfaloneonavastsquaredplain.Arookonahugechessboard.

findmyselfaloneonavastsquaredplain.Arookonahugechessboard.Thepatternofsquaressurroundingmeseemedoverwhelmingandfrightening.Itwasanout-of-bodyperspectivewhereIsawmyselfastotallyinsignificantinthemidstofthisorderlybutvastemptiness.

Runningthatday,inaforeignland,inadirectionawayfromevenwhatlittleIknewofinBlackMountain,Iwasthatfrightenedchildagain.ToppingasmallriseIlookeddownontoaseaofwheatwithstalkslongandfruitheavyatthetop—anincredibleabundanceasfarasIcouldsee.Andthen,asiftoconfirmmylatentfearoftheexpanseonwhichIwasonlyaspeck,whoosh!Iwasalmostblownoffmyfeet,fromtheleftsideofthelittleroadacrosstotheright.

Fromoutofnowhereaone-hundred-kilometergustofwindslappedmehard.Almostsixty-fivemph!I’dheardaboutthesephantomgustsfromAdrian,butthiswasmyfirstrealexperienceofthem.AsIstruggledforfooting,Iwatchedtheblasthitthefieldsbelow.Anamazingsight.Thestalkslayover,nearlyflattotheground,showingthegreenofeachstem,sodifferentfromthebeigeatthetip.Asthewindran,thefieldsofbeigeblewgreenwithit,creatingtheeffectofafireracingwildlyacrosstheland.Afirewithoutflame…agreenfireridingonawindasaliveastheearthittraveled.

Then,assuddenlyasthegustshadcome,everythingwascalmagain.Almostsurreallyso.Thefieldswerestill.Thegreenturnedbacktobeigeandtheairgrewheavy.

I’dneverexperiencedanythinglikethisbefore,otherthaninmychildhooddream.Anightmarethen.Whatwoulditbenow?

TWENTY-FIVELEATHERMAN

LEATHERMANIStheall-purposepockettoolwithaplethoraofuses.It’slongbeenoneofmybestfriendswheneverandwhereverI’vehadhouse-fixingjobstodo.InBlackMountainitwasalifesaver.Don’ttakethatasanad,takeitasafact.

Idon’tknowwhofirstcameupwiththeconceptofatoolcombiningmaximumportabilitywithsuchfunctionality,butheorshewasageniusasfarasIamconcerned.CertainlyatChâteauPoubelle,myLeathermanwasindispensablesincenothingisplumbinamedievalhouse.Wallsarenotvertical.Cornersarenotninetydegrees.Floors,doors,moldings,allareatleastslightlyoff.Tryingtousesophisticatedequipment,radialarmsaws,miteringtools,T-squares,anyofthatgoodstuff,forgetaboutit.Straightlinesdonotexistinancientplaces.NotaroundBlackMountainanyway.So,asweworkedtorepairorre-createahandhelddevicesmallenoughtogetintotightplaces,withavarietyofavailable

toolsattached,itwasjustwhatthedoctorordered.

M.Placoatehisheartoutwatchingmecuttightfitsofthickwallboardtopressflushintoirregularrock-facedwalls.He’dneverseensuchacompactsaw-toothedbladebefore.Hehadtouseakeyholesaw—big,cumbersome,anddull.OnedayItookoverhisworkwithmyLeathermanbladeandcuthistimeinhalf.Nopunintended.

Leathermanwasgoodforeverything.Picnickingonetimeweusedittopullacork,cutaloafofbread,sliceandevengrateourcheese.Weneededitsomuchwestartedjokinglyusingtheline,“ThissoundslikeajobforLeatherman.”

Leathermanwasalwaysonmybelt.Thatis,untilIhelpedAntonwithawaterhoseproblemonhistruck.OnedayheandtheSecretAgentmanwerelookingundertheraisedhoodathismotorasIcamedownrueBasque.Therewasapuddleoffluidattheirfeet,runningfromundertheengine.IwalkedovertoseeifIcouldhelp.StandingbytheoppositefenderIsawthelowerradiatorhosehadabreakinit.Antonhadjustpickedupareplacement,buthadn’tmadeithomebeforeoverheating,andhedidn’thavehistoolswithhim.

“Quelpensez-vous,MonsieurKen?”SecretAgentasked,asAntonwenttothecablookingforatleastascrewdriver.

“Needtoreplacetheradiatorhose,”IsaidinpassableFrench.

“Youmisunderstand,”hereplied,puffinghischeekandrollinghiseyes.“Wearebreakingforaperitifs.DoyouthinkyouwouldliketotrysomeofmyBordeauxnow?”

StupidlyIcheckedmywatchbeforeanswering.Itwasfiveintheafternoon.So…

“Pourquoipas,maisaprèsj’aifixélavoiture,”Iagreed,reachingtotheholsteronmybeltandpullingoutmytrustyLeatherman.ComingbacktowhereIstood,Anton’sshrugindicatedhedidnothaveevenascrewdriverlyingaroundinthecab.

“Here,letmefixit,”Isaid,unfoldingthetool’sPhillipsfirstandgettingtoworkunscrewingtheclamps.Withthoseoff,Ihackedthroughthehoselinewiththesawblade,pulledthetwopiecesofhoseofftheirnippleswiththepliers,cleanedtherustyclampswiththefile,thenmountedthenewhoseandrefastenedtheclamps—allwithonlythatonedevice.ThelookonAnton’sfacesaiditall—IlustforyourLeatherman.

AfteraveryniceChâteauRothschildonthefountainwall,inglassesbroughtfromSecretAgent’sapartment,IfeltIowedAntonforallthehelphe’dgivenusmovingfurnitureandsupplyinguswithfirewood.SoIgavehimmyLeatherman.Hedidn’tknowwhattosay,thoughIthoughtIsawhisTeutoniceyesstartingtomist.Heevengrabbedmeinanawkward,Iguess,edelweissembrace,mumblingrepeateddanke,danke,dankes.

AfewdayslaterIranintoAntonattheboulangerieandaskedhimifhe’dbeenusinghisLeathermanmuch.Hescowledamoment,lookingdownathisfeet,thenbacktome,saying,“No.Itwastooheavyonmybelt.IgaveittoClaude.”

Iresistedgivinghimakickinthepants,andsettledforperhapsanover-civilizednodandthewishforhimtohaveapleasantday.Ialsoresistedadding“dummkopf”attheend.See,IwaslearningfromBing’sinfluence.Growing,onemightsay.

Whatnow?WithoutmyLeathermanIfeltnaked,incomplete.And

then,amazinglyenough,aflyerfromasupplyhouseinToulousefellintoourboîteauxlettresthatadvertisedaone-daysale,Saturday,andtheLeathermanwaslistedasoneoftheitemsincluded.Excellent.BingandIwouldbethereasthedoorsopened.

OurtriptoToulousedidnotgowell.I’dthoughtpickinguptheLeathermanwouldbethestartofahappyday.We’dfollowitbyaruntothehugeIkeastoreforkitchenthings,cheapchairsandwhateverelsecaughtoureye.Wewouldhaveabiteintheirpleasantcafeteria,andthenloopbackintothecitytotheMuséedesAugustins,whereBing’sgreat-greatuncle’sworkwasondisplayintheSalonRouge.Dependingonhowthetimewent,wewerethinkingaboutdinnerthere,orperhapscontinuingbacktowardBlackMountainwithastopatRaoul’sbrocantetoseewhatnewoldstuffhadbeenaddedtohisbarnsinceweleftourfurniturethere.

Whatwe’dplannedtoweaveintoafull,fundayquicklyfrayed.TheLeathermanpicturedinthebrochure,thereplacementfortheoneIgaveAnton,wasnotwhattheywereselling.Nothinglikeit.Okay,nobigdeal,butitwasstillirritatingandperhapsaharbingerofproblemsahead.ThefirstoftheseoccurredwhilewewerecrossingabusystreetneartheparkinggarageindowntownToulouse.Isawacarcomingfromourleft,movingtoodamnfastforthenarrowstreet.Bingwasjuststeppingoffthecurb,lookingtheotherway.Instinctivelymyhandshotoutandcaughtherarm,pullingherbackontothesidewalk.I’dbeenunintentionallyrough.She’dbeensurprised,inturnsurprisingmewithafiercelookasshesnapped,“Don’tgrabme!”Shepulledherarmfreeandmarchedangrilyonacross,stillnotlookingleft.

Ihurriedoverbehindher.“Youweregoingtogethit…”Isaidintooloudavoice,pointingdown…thenowemptystreet.

loudavoice,pointingdown…thenowemptystreet.

“That’snoexcuseforpullingmelikethat,”sheshotback,eyesblazing.“You’vedonethatbefore.”

Whatwasgoingon?IthoughtI’dbeenMr.Goodguy,savingherfromatleastabrokenleg,andshewasmadatme!

“Bullshit,”Iunfortunatelysaid,turningpeople’sheadsandmortifyingBing.

OncebackinthecarheadingtowardIkea,Ididaslowburn.WhenItriedtoexplainaboutthecar,shewouldjustshutmedownwithoneofthose“Idon’twanttotalkaboutit”deals.Whichonlymademeangrier,leadingmetoshoutafewrudethingsatthewindowandsteeringwheel,whileIslammedtheshiftleverunnecessarilyhardeverytimeIhadtochangegears.AllofwhichdroveBingintoadeepersilence,furtherangeringme,until…shestartedtoweep.

Ahh…damn!IwassomadIwantedtoopenmydoorandbailout.Tearsarethekillers.Menshoutandkickthings;womenshoutsometimestoo,butwhentheystarttocry…ahhhh!It’sallover.Includingtheshouting.

WegottoIkea,butalongwitheverythingelsegoingwrong,Ineededabladderbreak.Great.ItwasprobablythetearsrollingdownBing’scheeksthatpsychosomaticallysetthatoff.

Theentrancewascrowded.Therewasapairofelectronicgatesthatreluctantlyopenedaspeopleapproached,actuallyslowingtraffic.Isawajostlingbunchofteenagersapproachingfrombehindus,whichwouldaddtotheproblem,slowingusmore.Andnowthatmymindwasonit,Ireallydidhavetopee.So,ratherthanstepasidefortherowdyboys,Iwantedtomakesurewegotthroughthegateswithoutdelay.Not

wantedtomakesurewegotthroughthegateswithoutdelay.Notthinking,IputmyarmbehindBing’sbacktokindofwhooshherpastme,puttingmebetweenherandthem.WhatIagainthoughtaSirWalterRaleighgesture,shefeltwasapush,which,whenaddedtomyearliergrab,amountedtoadditionalphysicalabuse.

“Donotpush!”shesnapped.

“Hurryup,”Isaid.

“Well,don’tpushme!”sherepeated.Shewasangry,plantingherfeet.

Ilostit,shouting,“You’reholdingeverybodyup!”Ipointedattheteenagerswiththecrowdbuildingbehindthem.AndofcourseeverybodystaredatthepairofarguingAmericansblockingtheway.

“You’retherudeone.Rudeashellwithme.Iwasn’tpushing.Iwastryingtomoveyoualongtokeepyouaheadofthatbunchofboys.Damnit,whycan’tIgetthebenefitofthedoubtinanythingtoday?Balls!”

“Youdon’thavetoactthisway.Youdon’thavetotalkthatway.Andyoucanstoppushing,grabbing,andshovingmearound.Idonotappreciatebeingtreatedlikethat,”Bingfiredback.“Godoyourbusiness.”

Bythenmyneedtogettothetoiletteoverrodeeverythingelse.Ipushedbyher,headingstraightforthemen’sroom.

Wedidn’tbuyanything.Wehadalousylunch.Weskippedthemuseum.Weskippedthebrocante.Idon’tthinkmorethanfivewordswerespokenbetweenustherestoftheday,andforthatmatter,therestofthenight,muchlesstheweekend.Ofcourse,Iwastheguiltyparty.Shit.

MONDAYWASN’Tmuchofadayeither,thoughtheweatherwasfine,

perfectforworkingatthehouse,especiallytearingupthecrackedcementcourtyardnowthatthehugenastyoiltankhadbeenhauledout.Whilethecrewblastedawaywithjackhammers,IwaswatchingPlacodestroyanareanearthebaseofthewalldividingourcourtyardfromtheneighbor’sontheleft,theMoroccans.Afterhe’dcutthroughthefive-orsix-inchslabandhisbitsliceddeepintotherubblebelow,IgotaglimpseofwhatlookedlikesomeOrangeburgpipeatthebottomofhishole.Asheleveredupthechunkofslab,Iaskedhimaboutit.Hesaiditwasnothing,justsomeoftheancientsystemthatwentunderthecourtyardsbehindthehouses,ondowntothestreetinfrontofthecafé.Hesaidhe’dcheckedthechartsinthemairietomakesurehedidn’thitanythingimportant.Iwasimpressed,butstillhadmydoubts.ButlikeBing,Placodidn’tseemtobepayingmuchattentiontomeeither.

Then,ontheoppositesideofourlittlecourt,againsttheotherneighbor’swall,Bruno(NuméroUn)discoveredadebris-filled,long-forgottenwell.Moreoftheancientpast.Laurantwascalledtocomecheckitout.Whenhearrivedaboutanhourlater,hestartedspeakingdirectlytoBingaboutwhattodonext—leavethingsastheywereandputthenewslaboveritorre-digittohelptakedownthewaterlevel?Thelatterwouldbeatwofer,addingthecharmofawelltothecourtyardaswellasreducingthethreatofdampnesstothehouse.

Asthetwotalked,Ifeltliketheproverbialtitsonabull.EvenwhenIthrewinmytwocentsonsomething,LaurantwouldgivemeaminimalglanceandcontinuedirectingwhathehadtosaytoBing.Thatwholeprocess,aregularconversationaljerk-around,didnotmakemefeelloved,byanymeans,byanyone.Addtothatourmiserableweekend,Bing’scontinuedminimaldialoguewithme,andnowthis—yes,my

Bing’scontinuedminimaldialoguewithme,andnowthis—yes,mytemperaturestartedtorise.

Bing,itseemed,certainlyhadnoproblemchattingitupwithgoodoldLaurant.Butnotwithme.WhatreallystuckinmycrawwasthatIactuallycouldbabbleinFrenchbetterthanshecould,evenifsheunderstoodmoreofwhatwasbeingsaid.Butnow,withLaurantignoringmetoo,Iwasgettingedgy,irritable,verycrankyindeed.

RELATIONSHIPS,LIKEsunnydays,cansuddenlycloudover.Locally,changesintheweatherhadmoretodowiththewindthananythingelse.AsI’vesaid,stiffgustsalwayslurkedintheMediterraneantotheeast,ortheAtlantictothewest,andwouldeventuallycomebuffetingoffthePyrenees,likeabankshotinbilliards,toswirlthroughtheLauragaisandwhirlintoBlackMountain.

Bing’sandmyrelationshipseemedtobefallingintoasimilarpattern.Wehadn’tbeenmarriedallthatlong,sotherewasalotneitherofusknewabouttheother.Noonesaiditwouldbeeasy.Mykidsespecially.SonBrithavingbeenthemostpuissant.He’dgivenawarningaboutrushingintoourmarriagethatIhadignored.ButwasthatrushanydifferentthantherushBingandImademovingonthishouse?Wehadn’tdiscusseditwithanybody.WeheardJean-Jacques’proposal,countedtoten,andthenwentahead.OurmarriageandbuyingtheGreenwichhouse,andthenthishouse,hadallbeenexamplesofthesameprecociousness.Butsowhat?We’dfeltwehadn’tallthetimeintheworldtodillydally.Weweren’tyounganymore.Mostofourliveswerebehindus.Again,sowhat?Rainfell.Windsblew.Butthesunalwayscameup,evenafterthestormiestnights.

Yetnoneofthatmademeanymorecomfortablelately,withBing

hardlyspeakingtomeandnowLaurantseemingtofollowsuit.Onandonthetwoofthemchattedaboutthewell,thecourtyardwalls,andeventhebackbuildingthatwassupposedtobemyofficeoneday.WherewasIinthediscussion?Myattitudewasdefinitelycloudingover.

SO,IPICKEDafightwithLaurant.Offwithmynose.Takethat,face.Itstartedafterlunchwhenourmorningworkcrewdidn’tshowup.Ascene-setterforsure.

BingandIhadbeenhavingasilent,“meditative”lunch,sittingontilecratesinthewar-tornfirstfloorwhileLaurantandhispeoplewerebackathisdepotfortheirmoreelegantrepas.Actually,itseemedBingandIweregettingclosertotalkingtoeachotheragain.Thewelldiscoveryhadhelped,alongwiththemysteriousOrangeburg-lookingpipePlacohadhitinhisdig.Andtherewasourmutualinterestinthehouse-up-the-streetissue.Wasthathouseatthecruxofwhyworkonourplacehadsufferedsomanyslow-downs?BinghadbeenthemostsuspiciousofitandproddedmeacoupleoftimestoconfronteitherLaurantorJean-Jacquesifthingssloweddownagain.

Andwouldn’tyouknowit?Afterwefinishedlunchandtwoo’clockrolledaround,Laurant’screwdidnotshowup.Butwesawoneofhistrucksrollby.Sowewenttoourdoortocheckitout,onlytowatchasthetruckpulledupandunloadedinfrontofwhatwenowknewmustbeaKurtzhouse.Confrontationtime!

Webothwalkedoutintothestreet,handsonhips,lookinguptowardthefountain.

“That’sourwholecrew,”Bingsaid.“Everyoneofthemisupthereputtingupscaffolding.Whatisgoingon?”

Ididn’tsayanything,justpulledoutourcellphoneandpunchedinLaurant’snumber.Itrangimmediately.Heanswered.ItoldhimBingandIwantedtotalktohimtoutdesuite.Weknewwherehewasandwewereonourway.

Aswegottothefountain,LaurantcameoutoftheKurtzhouseandcrossedtowherewestood.WecaughtaglimpseofM.Maçononhishandsandkneesputtingsometileinplace.

TherewasalotofclatterasBrunoandPlacoandPlacoDeuxandNumeroDeuxwerebusypullingthescaffoldingpipesandfixturesoffthetruckontothecobbledsidewalk.Insideandout,ourwholecrewwasworkingforKurtz,notus.IwasoneveryangryAmerican.

ItwasdifficulttoworkwithinmyvocabularyandstillexpresshowtotallyenragedIwas.Bingwassilent,butherexpressionsaidshewasdamnangrytoo.IreallyletLauranthaveit.

“PourquoiLaurant?”Idemanded,noddingtowardhisbusypeople.

“Contract.”

“Withwhom?”

“MonsieurKurtz.”

“Howlong?”

“Fromthebeginning.”

“Why?”

“Hewasfirst.”

“Hishousewasalwaysnumberone,yes?”

“Yes.”

“Ourdelayswerebecauseofthishouse.”

“Yes.”

“Notthetown?Nottheweather?”

“Notthetown?Nottheweather?”

“Notmuch.”

“Younevertoldus.”

“No.”“Why?”

“MonsieurKurtz.”

“Ithoughtyouwereourfriend.”

“Iam.”

“Youscrewedus.”

“IhadKurtzes’contractfirst.”

UptothatpointBinghadbeenwithme,rightwithme,butthenIlostcontrol.

“Yousonofabitch!”IshoutedatLaurantinEnglish.

“Ken,”Bingputahandonmysleeve.Ishruggeditoff…likeshe’dshruggedmeoffinToulouse.

“Qu’est-cequec’estsonofbitch?”heasked,lookingtoBing,whichonlydugintomethatmuchdeeper.

“Itisafilsdechien.Youareadog.Nothingbutamiserabledog!”Ishouted.

“Iamnotadog.”

“Whatareyouthen?”

“Yourfriend.”

“Bullshit.Vousêtesunmorceaudemerde.Apieceofshit.”

“Ken…”Bingtriedtointercede.

Laurantlookedatherandasked,“Whydoeshesaythesethings?”

AndasIsawthetwoofthemstartanotheroftheirf’ingtête-a-têtes,Icameunglued.

“Damnit,you’retalkingtoME,Laurant!Nother!Iamtheoneyouhavebeencheating.Youtalktome,yousonofabitch,hearme?”Ishouted.

Shuttersopened.ThelookonBing’sfaceechoedLaurant’s.Nowitwasme…notLaurant,notJean-Jacquesoranyoneelsewhowasatfault.Strictly,absolutely,andunequivocally,Iwastheproblem.Again.Balls!

IwassomadIwasshaking.Isteppedforward,veryclosetoLaurant,andshouteddirectlyinhisface,“Fouslecamp,morceaudemerde!”WhichI’mashamedtotranslateas,“Fuckoff,youpieceofshit!”

Everybodyinthevillageseemedtohavecaughtthatone.Boom,boom,boom,theshuttersslammedshut.AndLaurant’sguysstoppedwhattheyweredoing.Everyone.

Laurant’seyesandminewerelocked.Ourfacesveryclose.Iwasinarage,notgivingadamnhowgrosslyI’dinsultedhim.Publiclyinsultedhim.AtthatpointIwasnotabouttoapologize.

HiseyesmovedfromminetoBing.Iwantedtopunchhiminthefuckingface!

Shakingwithanger,Ibarelymanagedtoturnandgetthehelloutofthere.AsIwent,though,outofthecornerofmyeyeIsawBing’shandreachouttotouchLaurantonthearm.Iaccelerateddowntoourdoor,whichIshovedopenwithashoulderandthenslammedbehindme.Standingstaringintothefirst-floorrubble,Iwantedtobreaksomething,buteverythinginthewholefuckingplacewasalreadybroken!Igrabbedmyleatherjacket.Mywallet.Gloves.Ilookedaround,notevenknowingwhatIwaslookingforasBingcamein.

“Bing…”

Shestopped.Shestaredatme,trembling.

Shestopped.Shestaredatme,trembling.

“Bing,”Irepeated,tryingtoreachouttoholdher,butshemovedquicklypastme.

“Don’ttouchme.Don’ttalktome.Justleavemealone.I’vegottothink…Leavemealone.”

Shestrodeupthestairstowhatwasonedaytobeourbedroom,thenslammed…andboltedtheonlyoperativedoorwehadinthewholedamnhouse.

Everythingwasstill.Iturnedbacktothefrontdoorandlookedout,downthestreettowhereLaurant’struckhadbeen.Itwasgone.Thecrewwasgone.Eventhestartonthescaffoldingwasgone.Thewholevillageseemedtohavegoneintofreeze-frame,andIwastheassholewhohadputitthere.

ISHOVEDmyglovesintothejacketpockets.Itookthecarkeysoutofmyjeansandthrewthemintotheboîteàlettrethatprotrudedthroughthewallbythedoor.Mywalletwasinmybackpocket.IlookedaroundformyLeatherman,andrealizedI’dgiventhedamnthingtoAnton,who’dgivenittoClaude.IwasgoingtoreplaceitSaturdayinToulouse.SaturdayinToulouse,whenIgotmyselfreplaced…inBing’slife.

Isteppedoutthedoorbackintothebrightafternoonlight.Itwascominguponthreeo’clock.Stillnothingwasmoving.RueBasquewasveryquiet.Iclosedthedoorbehindmeandforamomentjuststoodthere.Iwasontheedgeofvertigo.Suddenly,Iwastotallyalone.ItwasasifI’dwalkedtotheedgeoftheearth.OnemorestepandI’dbeinfreefall.WhatwasIgoingtodo?ThenIsawabusroundthecornerbytheMaisonduParc,thehistoricalsociety.Thebuslookedhuge,likeagiantbeetlewithenormousrectangulareyes.Twofaces,likeirises,were

beetlewithenormousrectangulareyes.Twofaces,likeirises,werepeeringoutfromitsfrontseats.InanotherminuteitwouldstopatthetelephoneboothinfrontofClaude’s.Istartedtorun.Iwasn’tsurewhy,otherthanitwascomingtowardme,notawaylikeeverythingelse.

Thedriversawmesprintingtowardthestop.Heslowed,pulledup,andwaited.Afewstridesawaytheslab-likedoormovedout,slidforward,thencametoahissingstop.Myeyescountedthestairs,four.Istartedup.Thedriverwaswearingagraywovensweatermatchingthecolorofhiseyes.Hisglasseswerelargeandrectangularlikethebus’sfrontwindows.Thisorderlinesswassoothing.Ihandedhimatwenty-francnotetotakemetotheendofthefuckingline.Whereverthatwas.Ididn’tcare.IjusthadtogetoutofBlackMountain.

Thedoorhissedbehindme,suckingitselfbackintoitsclosedfit.Iwalkedpasttheloneridertoaseatintheback.Oncewegotunderway,heandthedriverstartedtalking.Whenthebusstopped,theconversationstopped.Theirvoicesandthedieselmotorwereachorusthatsoothedme.

ItwasanhourofstopsandstartsbeforeIthoughtofgettingoff.BythenwewereinCastres,withtheriverandwaterfallrunningthroughitscenter.Ilovedtheviewfromthebridgewecrossed.Gondolas,docks,stonehousesrisingfivestoriesonbothsidesoftheriver.Ifeltmyeyesbrimmingwithtearsitlookedsobeautiful.

Acrossthebridgetheroadwidenedwhereanotherjoinedit.Asthebusstoppedatthelightbeyondtheintersection,Idecidedtogetoff.AtfirstIhadnoideawhyIgotoffthere,butstandingatacrosswalkasthebuspulledawayIsawahugered,white,andbluesignoverthelongstorefrontIfaced.Ingreatitalicizedcapitalsitread—THEAMERICAN

DREAM.

Withoutthinking,Isteppedintothestreet.Therewasashriekofbrakes,ahorn,headlightflashes,andablackBMWzigzaggedpastme.Thedriver’sangryeyesoverapointingcigaretteglaredatme.Itwastoolatetojumpbacktothecurb,eventoolatetogivethedriverthefinger,thoughIknewIwastheoneatfault…asIhadbeenallday,allweekforthatmatter.

NexttoTheAmericanDreamwasanauto-école,adrivingschool.Thatseemedappropriate.AsanAmericanitwasmydreamthatsomedaytheseschoolswouldactuallyteachFrenchmenhowtodrive.Rightnowtheyseemedonlytopassalongbadhabits—drivingtoofast,jammingupagainstyourass-end,passingoncurvesanduphills,orsimplydrivingdrunk.Ofcoursethismentaldiscoursewasfromanangry,lowlife,jaywalking,malélevé(badlyraised)idiot(fool).

TheAmericanDreamsoldHarley-Davidsonmotorcycles.ThoughI’ddrivenpasttheplacebefore,Ihadn’tbeeninside.Iwentthroughthefrontdoor.Insidethewallswerewhiteplasterborderedwithredandbluetrim.PaintedontheshowroomwalloppositetheofficewasahugeblowingAmericanflag.UsedHogseverywhere—twooldknuckleheads,apanhead,therestEvolutions.Mostmodified.TherewasaFatBoywitharearwheelthatlookedlikeitcameoffaBoeing747.Severalmachineshadbenefitedfromenginework,over-sizedeverything.Onewithablower,anotherwithasetofthehairy-lookingside-mountedaviationcarburetorswhichiceupwhenthetemperaturehitsfortydegreesFahrenheitorbelow;butwhocared?Lookedgreat,ranlikeshit.Thestoryofmylife.

Leaningonitskickstandbytheofficedoorwasalate-’90sElectra

GlideClassic.Blackwithtrimlinesofredandgold,branchheads,andanS&SSupercarburetor.Whitewallstoo.ItreallywasanAmericandream.Myangermeltedslightlyatthesightofit.AllIhadtodealwithnowwasthegorillaofguiltseparatingmeandthatbike.

Talkingmotorcycles,myFrenchisprettygood.Jean-Luc,theproprietor,toldmetheGlidehadjustcomeinontradeforthenewermodelwithfuelinjectionandcounter-balanceddriveshaft.Ithadbeenpreppedandwasreadytogo.ItoldhimIhadaClassicbackintheStatesjustlikeit.IshowedhimthepictureIcarriedinmywallet,alongwithanotherofthemodifiedLowRiderI’dsoldtheprevioussummer.Wetalkedheads,fuelinjection(hewasagainstit),carbs,cams,counter-balancedshafts,allthegoodstuff.ThenItoldhimIwasrebuildingamedievalhouseinBlackMountain.Ineededsometimeontheroad…togetmyheadstraight.HegavemealooklikeheknewwhatIwastalkingabout.

Iproducedmyinternationallicensewithitscheckmarkformotorcycles.AndmyUSAAinsurancecard,asifthatmeantanything.Heseemedtothinkitdid.ForthehellofitIshowedhimmypilot’slicensetoo,andsurprisinglyheshowedmehis.We’dbothbeenpilotsdechasse(fighterpilots).HewasimpressedthatIhadgoneontoflycommercially.Thisledtoadeal,apricethatwasright.HetookAmericanExpress,so,withoutanotherthought,Iboughtthesucker.Ialsopickedupafull-facedhelmet,heavyleatherchapstogowithmyjacket,andaheatedvest.Thebikewasalreadywiredforone.Thegripswereheatedtoo,asabackuptomylightgloves.ItcouldgetdamncoldinthePyrenees.AndwhatifIdecidedtoridesouthtoSpainorontoPortugal?

Theradioandcassettewereinworkingorder.Thetrunks,sideandtop,werecleanandhadliners.IboughtaheavyblackHarleysweaterandabandanascarfwithLIVETORIDEononeside,RIDETOLIVEontheother,inFrench.Jean-Lucletmeusehisshoptagsandpapers.Threwinaroadmaptoo.Weshookhands,andthenIrolledtheglisteningblackbeautyoutintothealleytostartmyjourneyto…Ididn’tgiveadamnwhere.Flippingontheradio,thepopsingerClaudeFraçoiscameboomingfromthespeakersbackatme.Man,Ilovedthatguy,especiallynow,ashestartedmakingmefeelaboutashappyasonemiserableson-of-a-bitchcouldfeel.Iwasontheroadagain.OnamachineIloved.Ifeltthingscomingtogether.Everything…butmymarriageandtherestofmylife.

TWENTY-SIXONTHE“DREAM”

RVIDINGTHEgreatHarleyoutofthealleyreallywaslikeadream.Thepulseandrumbleofthatengine,itsthrobandthroatyroarasIacceleratedintotraffic,gavemeafeelingofbalance,equilibrium,asenseofselfinaworldsuddenlygoneterriblywrong.ThoughIknewmuchofwhathadgonebadwasofmyowndoing;atleastnow,withaclutchinonehand,throttleintheother,leftfootworkingtheshifter,therightbytherearbrake,mymiseryindexwasonthedecline.Vertigogone.Allmotionstraightahead,ridinghighonthisuniquelyAmericanbeast.Everyturnofthewheelwaspartofmyescape.IknewIwasbeingselfish,butIneededthemoment.LikeBingneededhersilenceandmeditation.Damnit,InoddedtomyselfasIcheckedmyrightrearviewmirror,thiswasmymeditation.Sauceforthegooseandallthat.Itwasme-tootime.

WherewasIgoing?Ididn’tknownorcare.Butwhereveritwas,Iwasgoingonthesaddleofthiswonderfulretro,low-tech,shinyblackHog.SowhatifmyFrenchwasbad?SowhatifI’dalienatedmywife,ourcontractor,andprobablythewholevillageofBlackMountain?AtleastIwasontheroadagainandfeelingthefirstnibbleofadeliciouslyevil…freedom.AnAmericancowboyridingintothesunset,squintingoffdowntheroadtowhoknewwhere?Leavingthebadtimesbehind.

Iwasn’tpayingmuchattentiontodirection,andthetrafficlaneIwasineasedmesouth.Ofcourseamerde-coloredPuegeotnearlytookmeout,despitemysignalflashingwellbeforeIstartedtheturn.ForasecondIfeltanotherflashofhot-metalangerseerthroughme.DamnedifIdidn’twanttochasetheidiotdown,draghimoutofhiscaratthenextlight,andkickhissorrybutt!Man,Ireallywasfullofroad-rage.

Irestrainedmyself.Frenchjails,Pierrehadmadeabundantlyclear,werenotniceplacestoreside,especiallyforforeigners.So,withoutinjuryorhandcuffs,IfoundmyselfontheroadtoMazamet.BingandIhadbeentherebefore.Isawnorealreasontogothereagain,butfortheexhilaratingups,downs,lefts,andrightsoftheroadleadingthere.PlustherewasasignshowingCarcassonnetobefiftykilometersbeyond.IneededCarcassonne.Ineededitsstonewalls,battlements,drawbridge,moat,andmews.Ineededtodisappearintoitsstonebelly,intoitsnarrowancientstreetsjusttohideforthenight.TolickmywoundsandbegintheprocessoffiguringouthowIwasgoingtomakewhathadgonewrong,betterorworse.

Theridewascalming—thejoyofarumblingHarleyrollingthroughsmallvillages,watchingheadsturnandseeingchildrenwavingatthemaninleatheronthebigblackbike.Itfeltgoodbeingnoticed,perhapsevenenvied.Farbetterthanbeingreviled.

evenenvied.Farbetterthanbeingreviled.

AsigntomyleftpointedtoHautpoul.BingandIhadbeenthere,too,asadrenegaderedoubtcrushedbySimondeMontfortinthethirteenthcentury,assomanyvillagesinCatharcountryhadbeen.WhichgavemeanideaforwhereIwouldgo.WhatIwouldsee.MaybeevenwhatIwouldthinkaboutforhoweverlongIwouldride.

LateintheafternoonIfoundanaubergeonthewesternshoreoftheAudeRiver,justbeforethegrandbridgecrossingintoCarcassonne’soldcity.Therewasasnugalcoveundertheinn’sterracetoparkthebike.Itookaroomwiththecastleviewforthenight.ThenIcalledBing.

Thecellphonewasprogrammedforsevenringsbeforethemessageservicetookover.Atsix,Binganswered.

“It’sme,”Isaid.

Silence.Shesaidnothing.

“I’minCarcassonne.Itookaroomforthenight.Here’sthetelephonenumber,”whichIreadtoherfromthephonepadbythebed.

Noresponse.

“IloveyouBing.”

Shehungup.

ITWASatoughnight.I’dwalkedfromtheaubergeacrossthebridge,throughtheoldcity,anduptothecastle.IfoundatableoutsideattheComteRogerrestaurant,myleatherjacketandsweatermakingthedifferenceagainstthecoldevening.Probablythetemperatureledmetothecassouletonthemenu.Ialsoorderedabottleofthelocalredgrownjustoutsidethecastlewalls.I’dthoughttheheavyfood,thewine,theride,andthebrisknightwouldleadtoagoodsleep.Iwaswrong.Iwas

miserable.Lyinginbedlater,allIcouldthinkaboutwasthesonofabitchI’dbeen.ToBingandtoLaurant.

ThenextmorningIdecidedtorespectBing’ssilencewithadayormoreofmyownasIheadedsouthwest,intothemountains.IstillhadnoideahowlongIwouldbeontheroad,butthatwouldbemoreuptoBingthantome.

AsIsaid,ontheridefromCastres,thesignforHaupoulhadmademewanttoseemoreofCatharcountry.Atthemoment,ruinedoldcastlessomehowseemedappropriate.Theweatherwasstillchilly,butthealmostblindingsunrisingintheeastsaidthedaywouldsoonwarm.

Idecidedtoridethesmallroads,thefirsttowardaplacenamedPalaja.AsIrolledalongtheever-narrowingpavement,Ithoughtofhowmanypilots,especiallyfightertypes,likebikes.Controllingthemissimilartoflyingthehigh-performancejets.Bankingleft,bankingright,leaningwiththebodyasopposedtolyinginaileronwithastick.Twistthethrottleandgo,muchthesameasslammingthethrottleoutboardtokickinajet’safterburner.Acceleratingoverthetopofariseandcatchingamomentofzero-G,commontobikesandplanesalike,israreonfourwheels.Ihadn’tmissedflyingwhenmycareerwasoverbecauseIhadmotorcycles.I’dhadmyownplaneonce,butfounditboring.LikeBunnyBerigansinging“ICan’tGetStarted”:“Beinghighintheskywasmyideaofhavingnothingtodo.”Youjusthungthere.Butdownclose,ontheroadonamachine,theworldwhipsby.Intheair,eventhespeedofsoundisjustanumberonadialoradigitalreadout.SixtyonanarrowFrenchroadwithtrees,stonewalls,cliffsandledgesrushingbyisrawspeedandallthethrillsattached.

Itwasn’tlonguntilmytraceofaroadbumpedintothenextdépartement,whichtookmeoveratwelfth-centurybridgeacrosstheOrbieuRiverintoLagrasse,amedievalvillageoftheCor-biéresregion.IstoppedforcoffeethereandIlearnedfromabrochurethatCharlemagnehadfoundedthelocalabbey,fromwhichhelaunchedcampaignsagainsttheSaracenstothesouth.Centurieslaterthatabbey,undertheBenedictines,sidedwithSimonMontfortandtheCrusadeagainstthearea’snobleswhohadbeenprotectingtheCathars.

Thecaffeinepickedmeup.Icrankedthehogbackintolifeandenjoyedtheluxuryofaslowrolldownthevillage’sancientrock-slabbedRomanstreets,stillwithcentertroughsforwaste-watertoruntotheriver.ThetownofLagrassewastherealthing:apropergatewaytoCatharcountry.

HavingrunintoCharlemagne’snameinLagrasse,Iwaseagertopressontoanotherofhisincredibleredoubts,PeyrepertuseCastle,furthersouthwesttowardthePyrenees.Theroadstoitwereachallenge,definedbytheamazingcutoftheTorganGorgewithitshugeforeheadsofgranitehangingdownfromthecliffsabove,someevensheeringtotheriverbelow.Inplaces,tunnelswerecutthroughthese,ortheright-of-waycurledaroundthem,creatingsonarrowaslip,onecarwouldhavetowaitfortheoncomingcartopassbeforeproceeding.Itwasablessingbeingonabikeinplaceslikethis.

Peyrepertuse,Ilearned,meant“piercedrock.”Accordingly,thecastleontopofthatnear-verticalridgelookedlikeaneedlepushedupthroughtheearth’sroughcanvas.Alongtheway,atCucugnan,Istoppedforabreakandsomefood.Afterparkingandlockingtheblackbeastwherethesummitpathbegan,Ihikeduptotheruinstopicnicinthehigh

castlekeep.Ihadcheese,anapple,abaguette,andBadoit.ThesamefareBingwouldhavepacked,butIwasalone.

Theheightandthenthesheerdropsonallsideswereawesome.Nooneelsewasthere.Ifeltatfirstdeliciously…thenterriblyalone.Beingsohighinthesky,onwhatseemedtheheadofagiantpin,onlyintensifiedit.ThefarPyreneeslookedonlythereachofmyhandaway.Breathtaking.Forthatmatter,allofthisregionofFranceisbreathtaking.

Theskybegantodarkenasitcansuddenlydointhemountains.I’dhavetogetbacktothebikebeforetheprobablyicyrainsbegan.

Byoneo’clockIwasrollingagain.Myspiritspickedupwiththejoyofridingthegreattwists,sweeps,andcorkscrewvalleyplungestheroadledmealongasImademywaytothenexthighmountainpassatPuilaurens.Therainhadheldoff,soIriskedanotherbreak,sippingespressoinacaféatthefootofthemountain.Continuingtoworryabouttheweather,IdecidednottohikeupthisoneandpulledoutmyMichelinmaptoplantherestoftheafternoon.ToheadinthedirectionofPicduCanigou,thenine-thousand-footpeakthatguardedtheeasternendofthePyrenees,wouldtakemethroughCéret,thearttownBingandIhadintendedtospendaweekendinoncethehousewasdone.Idecidedtomovethecalendaraheadandstaythereonmyownthatnight.

Astheskycontinuedtodarken,ImotoredonthroughtinytownsI’dneverheardofandwouldprobablyneverseeagain.Thuir,Llupia.Terrats,Fourques,Mons,Llauro.BythevillageofL’ErmitagedeSt.FérréolIwasgrowingweary,andtherainsdidcome.Tight,narrow,twistingroadsareachallengeonamachineinthebestofweather.Sand,gravel-strewnturns,oncomingidiots(ortheirlandsmenwhodon’tbothertostopatblindintersections),allcouldleadtoanynumberof

bothertostopatblindintersections),allcouldleadtoanynumberofthrills,ifnotactualspills.LayonaheavyrainasIhadhere,andthepuckerfactorgoesoffthechart.

Motorcyclesdonothavewindshieldwipers.ThisHarleyhadahighwindscreenthatblurredbadlyastherainsplatteredintoit.Ihadn’tthoughttowaxorRainexit,sothereweretimesIcouldn’tseeadamnthing.AllIcouldthinkof,blindedlikethat,werethoseprecipitousdropstothevalleysbelowwhichedgedtheroad.IreallyneededtostopforthenightbeforeIkilledmyself.

AsignsaidCÉRET10KM.Hallelujah.AsifGodheardmyelation,Hereducedthetorrenttoasprinkle,adrizzle,downtofog,andfinallytoclearingskies.Thenthelate-daysundroppedbelowthecloudlayerasitpreparedtobeddownbehindPicduCanigou.Gorgeouscherrytreeslinedtheroad’slastfivekilometers.ItallwassobeautifulIfantasizedImightberollingintotheGardenofEden.

IwasontheAvenued’Espagne,whichledintotheoldcitythroughafortifiedgatewayandthePlacedelaRépublique.Overhead,abovetheplazaandthebuildingsaroundit,wasanumbrellaoftheplatones,theirleavesjuststartingtoopen.Despitethatthincover,itwasdryunderneath.Noisewasmuffledtoo,whichcreatedanoddsensation,likerollingontoasoundstage.Iwasoutdoors,butfeltindoors.

AcrosstheplazaIfoundLesFeuillants,whichprovedtobeanextraordinaryinn.Itssurroundingwallsdefinedacoveredgarden,alreadysetwithtablesfordinner.Insidewasacharmingbarlookingontoaformaldiningroom.Thickorientalcarpetssufferedmywet,bad-bikerbootsasIstrodetothereservationdesk.Thoughmyleathersweresoakedandnoisy,almostwheezingasIpassedtheconcierge’sstation,hejustsmiledandnoddedmetowardthewaitingclerk.

justsmiledandnoddedmetowardthewaitingclerk.

Myroomoverlookedthegarden.Itwaslargeandluxurious.Strippingoffmysoakedridinggear,Igottheshowerrunninghotandpouredaglassofportfromtherackontheshelf.IachedthatBingwasn’tthere.Whatawonderfulplacetosharewithher.Whatadaytohavehadherwithme.WhatahellofamessI’dgottenmyselfinto…

ASINCREDIBLYlonelyasIwaschoosingtobe,myappetitehadnotsuffered.Iatetoomuchfish,toomuchduck,creamedspinach,bread,cheese,desert;Idranktoomuchwine.Allinall,Iwaslikeananimalontheloose.IseemedtoknownorestraintwithoutBingbymyside.SoIorderedasnifterofArmagnac.

Sippingthelast,Iturnedasleepyeyebackintothenearlyemptydiningroom.Oops.Enteringbehindthemaitred’hotelwasaloneyoungwoman.Shewastall,x-rayslim,butblessedwithbreastshersheerblouseimpliedshewantedtoshare.Ohmygoodness.Thepossibilitiesofthesituationshockedmebacktomyairlinedays.Asaninternational747captain,I’dbeenatargetforflightattendantslookingforaman.OnonetriptoRome,aftersettlingintomyhotelroom,thephonerang.Thesultryvoiceonthelinewasthatofastunnerwho’dservedthefirst-classcabinonthetripover.Nowshewantedsomeserviceofherown.Shetoldmeweshouldroomtogetherforthenexttwodays.Iaskedwhy?Shesaidtogotomywindow,lookacrosstohers,andIwouldknow.WhenIdid,shewasstandingacrossthecourtyardfromme.Shecertainlyhadbeenbeautifulinheruniform,butwithoutit,wearingnothingbutasmile,shewasdazzling.Ireturnedhersmile,waved,thenclosedmyblindsandwenttobed.Alone.FirstwifeBobbyehadmadea

one-womanmanofme.So,inthisencounterIdecideditwastoolatetoteachthisolddognewtricks.

Icouldn’tsleep.Myheadwasfullofquestions.Numberoneonthelist—hadmysonbeenrightaboutmynotwaitinglongenoughbeforemarrying?WasthissituationwithLaurantandBingthefirstheads-upthatsheandImightnotbetotallysuitedforeachother?HadI,infact,beensoadriftwithoutBobbyethatI’dreflexivelygrabbedforBinglikeshewasalifesaver?

Bing’shighbornNewEnglandlineagecouldwellbeinhospitabletothelikesofarule-breakingfighterpilotbornofrebelliousScots.Wouldn’tanextendedcourtshiphavebestdecidedthat?

I’dgrownupthelastoffourboys.Wewerearowdybunch,rollingandwrestling,shouting,kicking,andpunching;butwithinminutesofsuchroughhouse,we’dlockarmsasbrothers,especiallyifthreatenedbyoutsiders.

Bing,ontheotherhand,wasthelastoffourproperlyraisedyoungladies.Herprofessorialfatherandgenteelmotherprobablyhadzeroexperiencewiththeworldofroughandtumble.Besides,girlshadtheirownmeansofdealingwiththings—whispers,silentbroodings,sometimesnastywaysofgettingeven.Forboys,recoverywasquick.Girls,however,seemedtoneedtime,lotsoftime…whichmightleadguyslikemetohittheroad.

Asthechurchbellsrang3AM,theemptinessofmyroomwaslikeanightmare.I’dhardlyeverbeenalone.I’dgrownupinahouseburstingwithlife.College,theMarineCorps,marriage,andflyingaroundtheworldwithteamsofflightcrewshadneverleftmeisolatedlikethis.As

magnificentasthisFrenchvillagewas,withoutBingbesideme,itwasempty.

Whycouldn’tIcontrolmytemper?WhydidIhavetoself-destruct?WhatthehellcouldIdotogetmyselfoutofthismess?

GROGGYANDatriflehungover,Iwaslategettingunderwaythenextmorning.Céretwasjusttoobeautifultoshortchange.Thehotelhadabreakfastservicewaitingformeinsidethewalledgarden.Brightsunshinesprinkledthroughthetrees.Churchbellscontinuedtoringeachhour,accompaniedbydovescooinglovinglytoeachotherfromtreetopstochimneypots.Whichonlymademefeelevensorrierformyself.So,indefense,Iatetoomanycroissantsandpetitspains.Idranktoomuchcoffeetoo,ignoringthepriceIwouldpaylater,havingtostopformultiplerusticabythesideoftheroad.

Myleathersweredryandtighter.Ipackedmyfewpossessionsintothebike’stopcase,andthenstrolledtotheMuséed’ArtModernetoenjoythePicasso,Chagall,Matisse,Gris,andMaillolofferings.ItstungthatBingwasn’ttheretosavorthemwithme.

AcoupleofhourslaterIwasbackontheroad,headeddeeperintoCatharcountryviaPuilaurens,thenwestwardtowardthebreathtakingMonteségurenroutetoFoixanditsincrediblecount’scastle,ChâteaudeFoix.Alotofriding.Alottosee.Days,ifnotweekstodoitin.Whoknewwhatwouldfollow?

Thenithappened.

BythetimeIreachedA-9,themajorhighwaythroughthearea,mycoffee-ladenbladdersaiditwastimetopullin.Alargel’airelayahead:abigonewitharestaurant,gasstation,campsite,shops,thewholedeal.I

figuredtofindaHeraldTribunetocatchupwithtoo.Afterfinishingmycoffee-relatedchores,comfortablewiththepapertoreadlaterwithlunch,Iwasagainoffandrunning.

Asfatewouldhaveit,therewasaVolvoinfrontofmeonthefeederbackoutontoA-9.Volvoscouldbedangeroustoabiker’shealthandwell-being.Thefactis,motorcyclistsaretotallydefensivedrivers.Accordingly,eachcartypehasasignatureknowntoeverybodyontwowheels.Itgoeslikethis—BMWsaredrivenbypeoplewhoreallybelievethatUltimateDrivingMachinestuff.Sotheydrivetoofast,changelanestooabruptly,andgenerallyactlikehorses’butts.Athome,Cadillacstendtorideintheleftlane,nomatterwhatandnomatterhowslowly,particularlyintheSouth.ButtheVolvodriverstakethecake.Oftentheyseemtohavenoclueaboutdriving.TheyhaveboughtaVolvosimplybecausetheyweretolditis“safe.”Allwellandgood,excepttheyextrapolatethattomeanthatnotonlywilltheysurviveanycrashtheyarein,butwhoevertheyhitwillnotbehurteither!Safemeanssafe,totally.Right?SomotorcyclistsgiveasmuchberthastheycantoVolvos,anywhereintheworld.

SowiththisVolvowagonleadingmeoutofthefeederIimmediatelywentintoalertmode.TheA-9wewerejoininghadthreelanesplusthelongfeeder,agoodhalfmileoffourlanestoworkwith.Itshouldn’thavepresentedaproblemforanybody.

AsIclosedontheVolvo,Icheckedmyrearviewmirror,evencockedmyheadtotheleftforabetterviewofwhatwascoming.Iwaspleasantlysurprisedtoseeagroupofmotorcyclesmovingupfrombehind.Theyweren’troaring,justenjoyingthesceneryfromtheslowlane.Twelveorsomachines,withseveraltwo-up.Ifeltgoodabout

joiningabunchoflike-mindedspirits.IthoughtImightlayinwiththemabitandgetafeelforhowEuropeanridersworkasagroup.Wouldtheybeaformationoragaggle?Idecidedtofindout.

MyfirstmistakewasfocusingasmuchasIdidonthebikers.IshouldhavethoughtmoreaboutwhatidiocytheVolvodrivermighthaveuphissleeve.Asthingsworkedout,itwasn’tmorethanthirtysecondsbeforeIfoundout.

Ratherthanusethelongstretchoffeedertoblendintothehighway’sthreelanes,theVolvoelectedtolungetotheleft—directlyinfrontofmeandtheapproachinggroupofbikes!Myinstinctwastoswerveleft,too,butthefirstofthemotorcyclistswasalreadynearmyshoulder.Andseveralhigh-speedcarswereovertakingthemfurthertotheleft.Iwasboxedin,butiftheidiotwouldjustaccelerate,everythingwouldbesalvageable.Sowhatdidhedo?Exactlyasnooneinhisrightmindwouldeverdo,hejammedonhisbrakes!Anythingbutthatwouldhavesavedme.So,withthatboxypieceofcrapswervingtoastopsmackinfrontofme,Iwastrapped.Icouldn’tjogleftaroundhimorI’dplowintotheotherbikes.

Igrabbedahandfuloffrontbrakeandslammedmyrightbootdownontherearpeddle.Ihopednobodywasbehindme,thoughitwasn’tgoingtomakemuchdifferenceinanothersecond.Whenmyfrontwheelstartedtodishoutonatouchofsand,IknewIwasgoingtohittheVolvo.DownIwentinaslideofsparks,smoke,andshoutedobscenities.NowitwasacaseofhowmuchprotectionI’dgetwithmywheels,frame,cases,andgoodHarleysteel.

ThelastthingsIrememberwerebrightredbrakelights,aleftblinkersuddenlyswappingtoright…thentwoimpacts.Thefirstmusthavebeenmyhelmetedheadwhackingagainstthebumperorfender,thena

beenmyhelmetedheadwhackingagainstthebumperorfender,thenaterribleshottomyshoulderandribs…thenblackness.

TWENTY-SEVENALONGLONELYROADFORBING,TOO

WHENKENcalledmethatnightfromCarcassonne,he’dsaid,“IloveyouBing.”Ihungup.TheinstantIdiditIrealizedIhadnoideawhyIhad.Areflex.ThepainofdoingwhatIdid,andwhathedid,hitme.Iletoutthemostawfulwail,acascadeoftears,afloodIcouldnotcontrol.Ihurt.IhurtsobadlyitfeltlikeI’dbeenassaultedontheonehand,abandonedontheother.

AcharacterinaLarryMcMurtrybookKenonceshowedmesaid,“Fateissuchanaccidentalthing…”InitsownwaythiswholeFrenchexperiencehadbeenanaccidentalthing.Forthatmatter,muchofmylifehadbeen.Myfirstmarriage,whenIwasveryyoungandhadallowedmyselftobesweptoffmyfeet,startedwithunexpectedadventure:drivingaLandRoverfromParistoCalcuttaonaphotoprojectforNationalGeographic.Thoughmychildrenwerenotaccidents,

disappointmentwas.Anddivorce.Ohyes,I’dhadmyshareoflife’saccidentalthings,goodandbad.Ken’scomingtomysister’sHalloweenpartywasoneofthegoodthings.

Strangelyenough,inourpastlives,marriedtoothers,wehadlivedjustafewmilesapart.Despitealltheplaces,parties,andeventswe’dhadincommon,we’dnevermet.MyyearsoflonelinessandKen’slossofBobbyeputusbothonthesamepainfulroadthateventuallybroughtustogether.

BeforeKendrovehisJimmyTrucktomyfarmonNewYear’sevetwowintersago,I’dexpected,andhadaccepted,thatthesinglelifewouldbeminetherestofmydays.Thenhewasatmydoorandinmyheart.Thatmoonlitnight,gazingacrossthefieldsbeyondthefartreestandstotheLongIslandSound’sglisteningwaters,Kenhadsaid,“Ican’tlivewiththisemptiness,Bing.Ithurtslikeanarrowthroughmyheart.”Iknewwhathemeant.AndIacceptedwhenheaskedtomarryme.

NowIamtheonehurtingandempty,devastatedbythewayKenattackedLaurant—shouting,cursing,withthewholevillagehearingit—atthatmomenthewassomeoneI’dneverknownbefore.Iwasmortifiedandsuddenlyfilledwithdoubt.HadImadeanotherhugemistakeoftheheart?

It’strueLauranthadn’tbeenhonestwithus.Iwasangryaboutthat,ofcourse.ButJean-Jacqueshadbeentheonemanipulatingallofus.Ourlanguageskills,orlackofthem,blockedusfromrealizingwhathewasdoing.IdoubtLaurantknewwhatJean-JacqueswastellingusinEnglisheither.Yes,IwantedtoletLaurantknowweweredisappointedinhim,butnotlikeKenhad,shoutingobscenitiesandwavinghisfistsinhisface.HowcouldsomeoneIlovedforhissensitivityactsoinsensitively?

Actually,thiswholemessprobablystarteddaysearlier,inToulouse,withKen’spushingme,pullingme,shoutingatme.Wherehadthissideofhimcomefrom?He’dalwaysshownanironicsenseofhumortotaketheedgeoffthings.Now,allofasudden,hewaslashingouteverywhereandateveryone.Idon’tknowifheevenremembersit,butoverbreakfastthatmorningbeforewe’ddriventoToulouse,I’dinnocentlytoldhimthenewcoffeehe’dboughtsouredhisbreath.You’dthinkI’dattackedhismanhoodorsomething!Thenthepushingandshovingcrossingastreet,andmuchthesamegoingintoIkea.AndallthiswithLaurant!Iamhurtandevenalittlefrightened.Iwonderifourloveisnothingmorethanahouseofcards,alreadyfallingdown.WhenIhungupthephoneithitme.Ifeltsoempty.AllIcoulddowascry,crymyheartout.

ThateveningI’dfoundthebook,theonewiththeaccidentalpassage.OnitsnextpageIwasstruckbywhat(accidentally?)jumpedoutatme:“Sosureofhimselfonthesurface,yetsoriddledwithdoubtlikeeveryoneelse.AndIwondered:whenwouldithithim?Whenwouldherealizethatthisisallsuchadeeplyflawedbusiness?Thatwenevergetitright?Mostofusproceedforwardwithgoodintentions.Wetryourbest.Yetsooftenwefailourselvesandothers.Whatelsecanwedobuttryagain?It’stheonlyoptionopentous…”

Goodheavens.Itwasallthere,practicallyslappingmeinthefacewithitssimplicity.Itwasasifthetwoofuswerelivinginaworldasizetoolargeforus.I’dbeensofocusedonme,onmybeingslighted,insulted,treatedlessthanhowIthoughtIshouldbe…andnotgettingpastit.Kenhadactedterribly.Hehadalegionofreasons,nottheleastbeinghisfrustrationwithnotfinishinghisbook.He’ssoclose,Idon’t

understandwhyhecan’tjustsitdownanddoit,thehousebedarned.Ifhehadtakenmyadviceanddonejustthat,Idoubtanyofthiswouldhavehappened.ButhowwouldIconvincehimofthat?HowcouldIeventalkwithhimnow,whereverhewas?

HEHADnotcalledsinceI’dhungupthenightbefore.Ididn’treallywanttotalkwithhimevenyet,butIkeptthecellphonehandy.Iwasanxious,butstillneededdowntime.Timetobealone.Tothink.Tomeditatemyselfbackintobalance.

Istayedatthegîtehouseallthenextday,outwiththecows,walkingthefields.Icouldn’tbeartofaceLaurantandhispeople.Especiallyalone,whichmademefeelsomewhatthecoward,thinkingI’dleaveittoKentodealwithLaurantwhenhegotback.Ifhecameback.

Carcassonne.Iwonderedhowhe’dgottenthere.Rentedacar?Idoubtedhepickeduparide,unautostopastheFrenchcalledhitchhiking.Perhapshe’dbusedortakenatrain.

BytheseconddaywithoutacallIwasbeginningtowonderifKenhadbeenrightabouttryingtotalkthingsout,notlettingthemfesterastheyweredoingnow.AtleastIassumedthatwaswhathe’dmeant.Butithadbeentoosoonforme.I’dneededtime.Distance.I’mnotsospontaneous.Ican’tjustslapmyhands,shakemyhead,andstartalloveragain.

THREEDAYSandstillnoword.Nocalls.Nocontactfromanybody.NowIwasgettingworried.Wherewashe?Thissilencewassounlikehim.Ididn’tknowwhattodo.Whotocall?Iwasinaforeigncountry,speakingthelanguagepoorly,withnoideaofwhatIwouldsay.“Idon’t

knowwheremyhusbandis.”WomenarelookedatdifferentlyinFrancethanathome.Theyseemtobemoredefinedbythementheyareseenwith,marriedto,orinsomecaseskeptby.EvenifIcouldproperlyexplainmyconcern,I’dprobablyappearthefool.Yourmanistiredofyou.Heneededtotastesomeforbiddenfruit.That’sthewaymenare.What’syourproblem?Youhavethecar.Intimehe’llcomebackforthat,iffornothingelse.That’showmenare.

Finally,IcalledAdrian.Hewasattheboat.ButbeforeIcouldtellhimmysituationandmyworries,hetoldmehehadsomegood-badnewsabouthisdaughterAimee.Shehadbeenmisdiagnosedatthehospital,hesaid.Shewasnotneurotic,shewasschizophrenic.Asdepressingasthatnewsmightnormallybe,hewaspleased.Nowshewouldhavepropermedicationtodealwithherproblems.Ofcoursehewasupsetoverherhavinglostvaluabletreatmenttime,butatleastshewasfinallyontherighttrack.

ThenItoldhimKenwasoffsomewherebutIdidn’tknowwhere.Ihadn’theardfromhimfordays.We’dhada…asituation,adifficulttime,andhe’ddisappeared.He’dcalledoncefromCarcassonne,butwehadn’ttalkedthenorsince.

“Actually,Adrian,I’dhunguponhim,”Isaid.

“Maybehedeservedit,”Adriansaidkindly.

“Ithoughtsothen,butnowI’mnotsosure.Imusthavehurthim.Terriblyperhaps,sincehehasnotcalledfordays.It’ssounlikehim.Iamworriedsomethinghashappened,butIdon’tknowhowtofindout.Hedidn’thavethecar.Ihaveit.Idohaveatelephonenumberattheplacehestayedthefirstnight.ButIdon’tknowwhattheycantellmeotherthanhe’snotthere.”

thanhe’snotthere.”

“Bing,”Adriansaid.“Givemethatnumber.Iwillcallthemandseewhattheycantellme.Toregisterinahotel,ifyouarriveinacar,it’srequiredtoputthetagnumberonthesign-insheet.Ifherentedacar,theywillhavethenumber.Thenwecangofromthere.I’llgetbacktoyou.Don’tworry.Heisnotsuicidallikemyfamily.We’llfindhimquicklyenough.”

Ifeltrelieved.Adrianknewwhattodo,allofwhichnowmademefeel…French—awomandependantonamaninaman’sworld.Ididn’tlikethatfeelingatall.

“HI,KENNY…”washowBobbyewouldgreetmytelephonecallsfromwhereverintheworldIwaswhileshewasinthehospitalthatlastyear.Shewasalwaysupbeat,reflectingconfidence.Shealwaysliftedmyspirits.LaterIlearned,fromthosewhowerewithherwhenIcalled,thatithadtakentremendouswill-powertoputthatsparkleintohervoice.I’dhadnoideahowshe’dshieldedmefromwhatshehadnoshieldagainstherself.

“HiKenny”wasthefirstthingI“heard”asIstruggledtoriseoutoftheblackholeI’dfalleninto.Wherewasitcomingfrom?Whosevoicewasit?

Bobbyewasinacomaforalongtime.Shecameoutofitforaboutamonthbeforethedarknessrecalledher…forever.Duringthatmonthshewaswithus,shesaidthecomawasn’tpainful,otherthanthepainofknowingeverythingthatwasgoingonaroundherwithoutbeingabletoparticipate.Shecouldhearourconversations,feelourtouch,butshecouldn’t

touchusinreturn.Itwaslikebeingoutsideoneofthewindowsofourfamilyroomonawinter’snight,shesaid,seeingwhatwasgoingoninside;hearingthevoicesandunderstandingwhatwasbeingsaid,butunabletocomeinfromthecold.

Sheknewtherewasafireinthefireplace,butshecouldn’tmovetojoininitswarmth,thewarmthoftheloveshefeltradiatingfromusinfrontofit.Oneofthelastthingsshesaidtomewasthatshewouldalwaysbealittleangelonourshoulders,onewecouldnottouch,butonewecouldbesurewasalwaysthere.MaybeI’dheardherangel’svoice.

Mydarktimewasdifferent.Ihurtlikehell.Anditwashardtobreathe.Icouldn’tdefinewhereallthepainwascomingfromanymorethanIcouldsaywherethevoicesIwashearingwerecomingfrom.Ididn’tknowifIwasaliveordead.Isuspectedalive,probablybecauseI’dheardofsomanynear-deathexperienceswheretherewasavastwhitelight.Iwasindarkness.Icouldn’topenmyeyes,muchlessmovemybody…notarms,legs,anything.Myheadfeltterriblyheavy,soheavyIcouldn’traiseit,turnit,doanythingbutletitlaythereandmuddlethroughafewscatteredthoughtsbeforethingswouldgoblackagain.AndIfeltnolittleangelwhereIhopedImight,evenifitwashervoicespeakingtome.

Bobbyehaddiedattwointhemorningonthelastdayofspring.Ithinktodaywasthatsamedayhere,whereverherewas.

Herpassingwasallthemorepoignantbecausesummerwasherseason.Shewasasun-filledflowerperson.Sheplanted,nurtured,andlovedgrowingthings,alongwiththesunthatfedthem.DaughterLexi,sonBrit,andIwereherfamilybouquet,sheoursun.Bobbyehadbeenthelilyofmylife.Itwassadherlastdayhadn’tbeensummer’sfirst.Andnowtheanniversaryofthatdatewasthedaymyownworldwentblack.

Onthebed,inacold,antiseptichospitalroom,I’dheldhertightlyinmyarms.AtthefootofthebedBritembracedherfeetasheprayed.LexihadBobbye’sBibleopenbythesideofthebed,readingPsalmafterPsalmasiftoincantawaythedarkshroudpullingoverus.

“Lord,whomaydwellinyoursanctuary?”sheread,tearssplashingontothepage.“Whomayliveonyourholyhill?”Shestopped.Thesilencecaughtmyattention.Iachedforher.Ithadbeenaterriblestruggletokeepreading,butsheknewhermotherlovedlisteningtothePsalms.Therewasn’tanythingelseshecouldoffernow.

“She…”TherewasalongpauseasLexipulledherselftogether,thenmanagedtofinishtheansweringstanzawith,“Shewhosewalkisblameless…”Hervoicecracked.

IwasholdingBobbyetight.Wasittootight?WasItryingtokeepherfromgoing,ortryingtohelphergo?

Asifinresponse,Lexiread,“Bemercifultome,OLord,forIamindistress;myeyesgrowweakwithsorrow,mysoulandmybodywithgrief…”HowmanyPsalmsdidshereadthosehoursbeforetheend?Britputacrumbofunleavenedbreadtohismother’slips,thenatouchofthecup.Throughoutthatyearofhospitals,pain,andsadness,he’dbeentheonetomakesureshehadtheLord’sSuppershetreasuredsomuch.

ThenBobbye’sbreathingstopped.Theroomwastotallystill…untilonelastlongsigh.

LexiclosedtheBible.Igotuptogetthenurse,whowouldcallforadoctor.IsawBritstarttostraightenthebed.Hissisterjoinedhim.Theytuckedthecoversastheyknewtheirmotherlikedthemtobe.

Iwasoutsidethedoorinthehallway.Alone.ForamomentI’dforgottenhowI’dgottenthere.Isawthenurse’sstationandwalkedwoodenlytoit.

Whentheoneyouhavelovedsodeeplyforsolongleaves,irrevocablyleaves…thatfirstinstantyouknowyouarenowaloneisdevastating.Quicklyadullachesetsin.Onlytimerevealstheconstantcompanionitwillbecome.

“BING,ADRIANhere,”hesaid,notanhourafterwe’dfirsttalked.“Kenhadbeenonamotorcycle.Iwasabletogetthecartegrise,thetagnumber,fromthehotelasIthoughtImight.Ihaveafriendinthegendarmes

checkingifthereareanyreportsrelatingtoit.Iftherehavebeenanyproblems,we’llknowshortly.”

Ididn’tspeak.Iwasholdingmybreath.I’dbeenwillingtoridewithKennyonhisHarley-DavidsoninConnecticut,butafterseeinghowcrazytheFrenchdriverscanbe,Itoldhimhewouldridewithoutmehere.Whichmadeforatenseeveningortwo,butwe’dbeensobusyitdidn’tbecomeanissue.

“Areyoustillthere,Bing?”Adrianaskedwithconcern.

“Oh,forgiveme,Adrian,”Iblurtedout,“Iamsorry.Kenonamotorcyclehasmeworried.I’dtoldhimIwouldn’tridewithhimherebecausesomanyofthedriversseemeithercrazy,drunk,orboth.IhopeIwasn’tclairvoyant.NowIreallyamworried.”

“We’llknowmoreoncethetagischecked.Ifhedidgodown,theownerorshoporwhateverwillhavebeencontacted.Trynottoworry.Iwillgetbacktoyouthesoonest.”

LATER,AFTERallthatcouldbearrangedwasarranged,BritwenttohiscarandIfoundmyselfwalkingacrosssomegrasstowardmine.Afterabitofastumble,Istoppedandfoundmyselflookingup,almoststartledbytheincrediblemosaicofstarsandgalaxiesabove,andsuddenlyrememberingwhenBobbyeandIwerefirstmarried,howmanysummernightswe’dlieinafieldonourbackslookingforBetelgeuse,Orion,Vega,theNorthStar,orMars.Wehadn’thadthemoneyformorethanmaybeamovieamonth,sothehugeskyoverheadhadbeenourprivatetheater.Thisnight,theonlysoundwasabreathofwindthroughtheleaves.Ifeltcrushinglyalone.

EarlierLexihadread,“WhenIconsideryourheavenstheworkofyourfingers,themoonandthestars,whichyouhavesetinplace,whatismanthatyouaremindfulofhim…”IwishedIcouldhaverememberedthosewordsasIstoodlookingup.Butonlyactorsonstagesorinmoviesseemabletodosuchthings.Therestofusjustliveasbestwecan,wishingwecoulddobetter.

Suchthoughtsofdeathstartedmethinkingaboutlife,mylifebeforeenteringthisstrangecocoonIwaswrappedin.TherehadbeenatimeIstoodbyanemptyfieldjustbeforesunrise.Overitlayagroundfog.Suddenlyashimmeringrectangleoflightrosefromthefogandhoveredjustabovethefield.Icouldn’tmove,couldhardlybreathe,watchingwhateveritwas.MyattentionwenttothecenterwithintherectangleandIsaw…allIcansayofwhatIsawwas…eternity.Clearandinfocus,eternity.

Istartedtowardtheapparition.CouldIstepthroughit?CouldIgettothe“otherside”?ThenwherewouldIbe?

Andagain,frommyblackcocoon,theshimmeringrectanglereturned.IfImovedtowardit,couldImovethroughit?Orwoulditagainjustcontractandcompress?Wasitlifeordeath?WouldIliveordie?

“BING,THEAmericanDreammotorcycleshopinCastreswascontactedbytheAutorouteAuthority.Oneoftheir

Harley-DavidsonshadbeeninvolvedinanaccidentonA-9,southofPerpignan.Theywerewaitingforthereleaseofanaddressontheforeignrider.Theyhadhisinternationallicense,butithadnolocaladdress.TheywerewaitingforthehospitalinPerpignantoallowtheirinvestigatorstotalkwiththeperson.TheyhadthelastnameasAdams.Iknowyou’vesaidweFrenchoftentaketheMCofKen’slastnameasinitials,”Adriansaid.Hepaused.

“Adrian,I’vegottogettothathospitalasquicklyaspossible.”GrabbingmypurseandlookingfranticallyaroundtheroomforthecarkeysandwhateverelseIwouldneed,Isaid,“Where—”butAdriancutmeoff.

“Bing,IsuggestyougetinthecarrightnowanddrivetomehereatPortLauragais.It’sonthewaytoPerpignan.WhileyouareontheroadIwillgetthroughtothehospitalformoreinformation.Ihaveyourcellphonenumber.AssoonasIhaveanythingIwillcallyou.”

“Iamonmyway,”Ichokedout,adding,“thankyou,thankyouAdrian.”Ihungup,threwmycellintomypurseandrantothedoor.

WHENIWASabletoopenmyeyesIwasfreezingcold.Shakinguncontrollably.Somemaninwhitewashuggingme.God?No,aman!MaybeIwasdeadbutinagayhell.Oh,Lord.

Ihadapileofblanketsoverme.Aboveandhigharoundmewerebagsandtubesandoscilloscopeswithmarchingwavesoflight,beepingmonitors.Alltheaccoutrementsofintensivecare.Imustbeinahospital.ButwhywasIsodamncoldandshiveringwiththismanhuggingme?Ifeltlikeahockeyplayer

downontheicewitharefereesprawledoverme.Whatwasgoingon?Thenshivering,shuddering…Iwasintheblackplaceagain.

ITWASamazinghowquicklyAdriangotusthroughtheemergencyroomredtapeandintotheorthopedicsurgeon’soffice.WhenI’dpickedhimupattheboatIwassurprisedtoseehiminasportcoatandslacksratherthanhisusualjeansandsweater.ThenIrealizedtheribbonssewnontothejacketlapelindicatedhe’dbeenawardedtheLegionofHonorandCroixdeGuerre,whichobviouslyhelpedusgetsofarsofast.

ThedoctorspokeEnglish.“Madame,”hebegan,“yourhusbandhassufferedmanyinjuriesduetoamotorcycleaccidentonA-9.Mostimportantly,however,isforyoutoknowhewillsurvive.Hislifeisnolongerindanger.Hehasbeenthrougharigoroussurgicalprocedure,however.Whenadmitted,wefoundhehadthreefracturedribsandadoublecompoundfractureofhisupperleftarmandaconcussion.Asbestwehavebeenabletodeterminefromsomeothermotorcyclistswhofollowedtheambulancehere,acarswervedinfrontofhim,knockinghimdownandpartiallyunderthatvehicle,then,forsomeunknownreason,thedriverstopped,reverseddirectionanddroveoveryourhusband’supperbody,causingthedamageIdescribed.”

Thedoctor,whosenameplaqueonhissmockreadM.Diddier,wentontosaythathe’dhadtosettheribstoavoidpunctureofthelungs,aswellasconnecttheleftelbow,themajorbonesegment,andtheshoulderwithastainlesssteelrod.Theprocessofrebuildingtheupperarmwiththerodimplantedwouldmakeforamucheasierrecovery.

“FortunatelyMadame,thebreakswherecleanandhadnotcutmuchmuscleornervetissue.Nevertheless,becauseoftheircleannature,theonlywaytoensureastrongmendwastheuseoftherod.Itcanremain

onlywaytoensureastrongmendwastheuseoftherod.Itcanremaininthearmwithoutaproblem,thoughMonsieurAdamswillbemoresensitivetocoldinthatarea.”

Kenwastobeoutofintensivecarethenextday.Hewasbeingsedatedandseemedcomfortableforthemoment.Accordingtotheattendingnurse,aman,theO.R.hadbeensocoldthat,tofightbacteria,he’dhadtodohisbestwithwrappingheatedblanketsaroundKentofightoffthechillbeforetheyputhimunderforanight’srest.

Thenurse,MonsieurChappel,foundmeacomfortablesofachairtowedgeintoKen’ssmallarea.IgaveAdrianthecarkeystogobacktotheboatforthenight.IwasstayingclosetomysweetKennythistime.Nomorewalkouts.Nomorehangups.Thistimethetwoofusweregoingtoseethisthroughtogether.

MORNINGCAME,andwithitavoice,asweetwoman’svoicewhisperinginmyear,“MysweetKenny,Iholdtheeinthelight.”

Mymuddledbrainhungontothat,turnedandtumbledit,thenrecognizeditasoneofBing’sQuakerphrases.Thattoldmeshewasnearanditwasherlight,nottheotherbrightwhitelightI’ddreaded,whichwasgreetingme.ThankyouLord.

Slowly,throughmyflutteringlids,Ibegantomakeoutaform…andforthefirsttimeinaverylongtime,IcouldseeBing’sfacepeeringdownatme,Adrianbehindher.

“Howisthebike?”werethefirstwordsmydryraspythroatcouldmuster.

Theylookedateachother,thenbacktome.TheirexpressionstoldmetheywereencouragedIcouldtalk,andthatunderthecircumstances,theoutrageousnessofmyquestionindicatedIwasprettymuchbackto

theoutrageousnessofmyquestionindicatedIwasprettymuchbacktonormal.

Iwaspleasedtoo.Irememberedthebikeandlayingitdown,thoughnothingafterthat.ThenIfoundIcouldmovemyheadandwasalsoabletoraisemyrightarmtoreachoverandtouchthewrappingofmyleft.Itdidn’tfeellikeplaster.Andmylefthandwasstillthere.Puffyandpainful,butthere.Icouldwigglemytoesandevenmovemylegsabitbeforesharppainscutintomychest.Iwasnotdeadandperhapsnotinterriblybadshape,allthingsconsidered.Whateverthosethingstoconsidermightbe.

“Actually,theHarleyisnotthatbad,”Adriansaid,adedicatedH-Driderhimself.“IspokewiththefellowattheshopinCastres.Hesaiditwasmostlycosmeticdamage,noframeproblems.He’dsentacamiontopickitup.Apparentlythebikefaredbetterthanyoudid.Ofcourse,itwasn’tbackedoverbyacar.Wehadachancetospeakwithtworiderswhowerewithyouwhenyouwentdown.Theystoppedbyyesterdaytoseehowyouweredoing.Theyareeagertofilechargesagainsttheidiotwhocutyouoff.”

Itookallthisinmoreasanobserverthanparticipant.Iimagined,gratefully,thatIwasfullofpharmaceuticals.ThenmyeyesfoundBing’s.Thoughmyvisionwasstillblurry,Icouldmakeoutthetearstumblingdownhercheeks—whichmademefeelvery,verybad.IhadleftherangryandhurtandnowI’daddedthesetears.AllinallIwasoneroyalshit.

ITISAMAZINGhowtimeservedinahospitalseemstoalleviatetheworstsituations,conflicts,andmisunderstandings.Especiallywhentheprime

perpetratorarrivesbyambulance,passesthroughO.R.,intensivecare,andfinallylandsinasemi-privateroomwrappedinheavybandageswithpiecesofshinymetalholdingalimbortwotogether.Ofcourse,Idon’trecommendtheprocessforresolvingallourdisputes,butinthisself-inflictedmess,Imustsaythingscouldn’thavemovedalongmoresmoothly.Bingkepthuggingme.LaurantshowedupwithflowersandabottleofredGaillactoreestablishourworkingrelationship,butI’dbeenasleep.Wewouldhavetotalklater.EvenJean-Jacquessentacard,asdidNigelCorkfromLondon.Amazingly,likeaphoenix,Iseemedtoberisingfromtheashesofmyiniquityandalightingonapedestalofforgiveness.

TheseconddayafterIcameoutofICU,theroommateofmysemi-privatewasdischarged.Afterhisbedwasstrippedandremade,Bingarrivedandwehadtheroomtoourselves.Finallywehadourtalk.Asshepulledachairclosetothesideofmybedandleanedovertokissme,Iheldoutmygoodhandwithallitsattachedtubesandlaiditonherarm.

“OhBing,darling,”Istarted,myvoicestilllittlemorethanacroak,“Iamsosorry.Ihurtyou.IhurtLaurant.Imadeafoolofmyselfinfrontofthewholevillage…”

“Shush,hush,”Shecomforted,takingmyswollenlefthandinhers.“It’simportantthatyourestandnottroubleyourselfwithsuchthings.We’vegottenthroughit…you’realiveandwearetogether…aswewillalwaysbe.”

“Bing…”Icouldfeelalumpgrowinginmythroat,“IamsosorryIexploded.You…”

“Please,Kenny.Hush.Iunderstand,”shesaid,squeezingmyhand.“I

“Please,Kenny.Hush.Iunderstand,”shesaid,squeezingmyhand.“IamsorryIhavetogotomyquietplacewhensomethinggoeswrong.Trytounderstand.It’snotasilentcondemnationofyou,it’sjustmyway.IhavetosortthingsfromwithinbeforeIcanreachout…”

Istruggledtoexplain,“Darling…thatdayIthoughtyouwereasangrywithLaurantasIwas.Ithoughtwewerestandingtogether…andthenyouseemedtobackaway.Itwasasifyou’dtakenhisside…whenIthoughtIwasfightingforyou.Forus.”

Theheartmonitoronthewallstartedmakingnoisesasthenumbersbelowitparadedfasterandfasteracrossthescreen.Glancingup,Bing’sexpressionshowedconcern.

“Kenny,”shewhispered,“thisisthelasttimewe’regoingtotalkaboutthis.We’releavingithere,inthishospital,likeagerm.Andinthefuture,whenwethinkanymoreaboutit,we’llgivethanksthat,asawfulasourargumentwas,it’sbeenablessing.Youwerenearlykilled.Nothingisworthlosingyouover.Soifeveranothersituationthreatenstoblowuplikethisonedid,wearebothgoingtostepbackandthinkabouthowmuchwemeantoeachother.YoucanbelikealionandmaybeI’madeer.That’sourreality.Sowe’lldealwiththat.Aslongasyoudon’troar,IpromiseIwon’trunoffandhide.Wecandoit,becausewearegoingtodoittogether…”

Idon’tknowhowmuchmoreBingsaid.IwassofullofthehappystuffpumpingintomyveinsIbegantofuzzup,finallydriftingoff.ItwashoursbeforeIcameback.Shewasstillthere.Reachingouttotakemyhandagain,smilingandgentlykissingmeonthelips.

INAWEEKmyribsweremanageable.Myleftarmstartedgettingsomeexercisenotlongafterthat,thoughithadtostaytightlywrappedandin

aslingmostofthetime.Iwasreleasedaweekaftermyeyesblinkedopen.ThoughitwasclearIwouldn’tbebangingnailsorlayingtileanytimesoon,Iwouldatleastbemobileandabletokeepaneyeonthings,alongwithcontinuingtomendalotofpersonalfences,andnowbefreetofinishWhenEaglesFall.

BINGANDIspentmyfirsttwodaysoutofhospitalonAdrian’sbargeatPortLauragais.Sincehehadtoreverseitaroundatthequayforsomescrapingandpainting,wegotabriefvoyageoutintothecanal,thenbacktohismooring.Thebriskair,theengine’sthrob,justthegentlemovementwasatreat.

ThethirddayBingcartedmebacktothefarminSoual.Thoughthehundredsofrabbitshoppingaboutseemedjoyfulatmyreturn,MadameRigalewassaddenedtotelluswe’dhavetomovefortwoweeksatleast.Theguestsexpectedtocancelhadnot.We,ormoreaccuratelyBing,wouldhavetoloadthecarwithourbagsandassortedstuffandfindanotherplacetohangourhats.BacktotheGypsylife…withourfirststopbeingtheAbbeyHotelwherewe’dstashedNigelCorkandLeathanBobbweeksbefore,backinBlackMountain.

TWENTY-EIGHTCOMINGTOGETHER

DURINGTHIStransitionalperiod,Lauranthadhispeoplebackworkingonthehouse.Wewerepastthethree-monthmark,nippingintosummer,andstillwaitingfortheturnofthatmagickey.

WhenBingcheckedmeoutofthehospital,wepaidthebillsinfull.Thishadanunanticipatedsideeffectontheapplicationforourcartesdeséjours(extendedstayvisas).Bydoingthis,weestablishedtotheFrenchhealthcaresystemthatwewouldnotbeadrainandwouldpayourownway,sothepaperworkacceleratedthroughthebureaucracyandwegotclearancetostaysixmonthsin-country,awholeyearifweweren’tconcernedaboutpayingFrenchtaxes.Hah.

Thoughthefrustrationofnotgettingmynovelfinishedwasalwaysthere,atleastweweren’tupagainstanylegalbarriersasbefore.Andnow,bangedupasIwas,despitelingeringheadachesandtheongoing

ingestionofpainkillers,writingwouldprobablybetheonlyreallyproductivethingI’dbecapableofforseveralweeks.PerhapsIwasseeingtheglasshalf-fullforachange.

BeforeweleftthegîtefarmfortheAbbeyHotel,BingbroughtmeuptodateonsomeharrowingeventsthathadtakenplaceinmyabsenceatChâteauPoubelle.

“Kenny,rememberthebrokenorangepipeyousawundertheslabinthecourtyard?WherePlacowasdigging?”sheasked,sittingnexttomewhereIwasstretchedoutononeofthecouches.

“Ido,butIhardlydareaskwhatcameofit,”Isaid.

Beforegettingonwithherstory,Bingstartedpoppingseedlessgrapesintomymouthandannounced,“Youneedmorefruitinyourdiet.”

“Whatever,”ImanagedasIcrunchedamouthfulofthesweetbeauties.

“Well,lastweektheypouredthenewslabandafteritset,startedlayingtile.EverythingseemedfineuntilIwentupstairsontothebalconyforaviewofhowitallwouldlookfromabove.”Chompingonafewgrapesherself,shepausedtomakesureIwasstillmunching.Satisfied,shereturnedtoherstory.“Ihappenedtolookoverthewalltotheneighbor’scourtyard.Itwasamazing.TheMoroccanladyandherpregnantdaughterwerestandingknee-deepinwater,withthatrolloutwashingmachineoftheirspluggedinandrunning.Theywereaboutsixinchesofwaterawayfromelectrocution.”

“Whatdoyoumean?”

“Theirwholecourtyardwasafootdeep.Anothersixinchesandthewasher’selectricmotorwouldbeunder.Plugged-in,theywouldbeelectrocuted.”

electrocuted.”

“Whatdidyoudo?”

“Istartedyellingandpointingandtryingtoremembervocabularyforelectricalshocksituations.Theyhadtogetoutofthere,butIcouldn’tmakethemunderstand.Iguesswhenyoucomefromthedesertthemindsetisthatwateristotallywonderful.Anyway,IrandowntothelivingroomwherePlacowasworkinganddraggedhimupstairssohecouldseewhatwashappening.Hecaughtonimmediatelyandyelledatthewomentopulltheplugandgetoutofthere.Whichtheydid.”

“Sowhatturnedouttobetheproblem?”Iasked,tryingtovisualizethewholescene.

“AfterPlacobroketheorangepipe,thenfilleditwithcementfortheslab,he’dsealedtheircourtyard’sdrain.Whentheladiesdotheirwash,themachinejustemptieseachcycle’swaterontotheirtiles,thenintothatdrain.Theydoalotofwash,plusfriends’diapers,intubswiththeirhoserunning.Graywaterfromthekitchenfeedsintothedraintoo.Andithadrainedforacoupledays.Iguessthewaterrosegraduallyandtheydidn’tpayanyattention.”

“Goodforyousavinglives,buthow’sourtile?”

“Backtonormal,”shesaid.“ButPlacofeltterrible.Hehadtojackhammeroutathree-footsectionnexttothewall,digdowntotheoldpipe,andputinanewpiece.

“Everythingworksfinenow.Onceheretilesthespotyou’llneverknowthere’dbeenaproblem.OfcoursetheMoroccansaregrateful.Theybroughtmeméchoui,oneoftheirlambdishes.ItookittoLaBrasserieforMichel,Jesselyne,andtheboystoshare.I’msorryyouweren’taroundtoenjoyitwithus.”

“Hey,darling,nothingbeatshospitalfood,eveninFrance.”

“Hey,darling,nothingbeatshospitalfood,eveninFrance.”

Bingreportedgoodnewsonthepaintingfronttoo.

“CarloandNeigehavefinishedthesecondfloor.Bytheway,EveisupinParisandmighthaveamodelingjobforthesummer.Anyway,everycolorsuggestionImadetheygotrightthefirsttime.Weusedshadesofpeachinourbedroom—thefartherfromthewindows,thelighterthecolor.Withtheexposedbeamsoverhead,Kenny,itisgorgeous.Ievenaddedacieldelit,ahalooflacehangingfromtheceilingovertheheadofourbed.”

“Whatbed?”Iasked,tryingtorecallifwe’dstashedoneoutatRaoul’sbrocante.

“IwenttooneofthebrassshopsinDurfort.Theowner,Jean-Paul,isaracecardriver,andhisfatherhadbeenapilotwiththeFreeFrench.Hewantstomeetyouassoonasyou’reoutandabout.Anyway,hewasemptyinghisstoreroomofoldstuffandhehadabeautiful,blue-antiqued,wrought-ironqueen-sizeIcouldn’tresist.So,”shesmiled,“it’snowunderthecieldelit.

“AndKenny,theguestroom,thechambred’amis,”shebubbled,gettingonaroll,“CarloandIdidthatinsoftautumnals—citrus,orange,andlemon.Inthedimeveninglightyou’dthinkyouwereinanineteenth-centuryParisianhotel,aguestofToulouseLautrec.

“Andthebigbathroom,Carlopaintedthatinamarshmallowwhite.ThenherantwoFrenchbluestripesaroundthreewallsatthelevelofyoursink.Thefourthwall,oppositethefireplace,hesponge-pressedwithlavenderonwhite.Heisarealtalent.”

ThoughIhadgottenthesinkinplacebeforemydisaster,Ihadnotinstalledthecornertubortheshowerstallnexttothetoilet,catty-cornertothesink.Withmyarmthemessitwas,I’dhavetogetChristopheor

tothesink.Withmyarmthemessitwas,I’dhavetogetChristopheorsomebodytofinishthosejobs.Suchwaslife,somethingIguessIwasstartingtoacceptwithalittlemorematurity.

SOONIfeltstrongenoughtostartmovingaroundundermyownsteam.Theribsseemedhealed,myheadacheswereprettymuchgone,andIwasoffmostofthegoofballpainkillers.Bingwouldstillhavetodothedriving,butIwasanxioustogettothehousetoseewithmyowneyesallshe’dbeendescribing.And…IwasgoingtohavetogettogetherwithLauranttostraightenoutthemessI’dmadeofourrelationship.IfeltsodamnguiltyfortheawfulthingsI’dshoutedathim,infrontofthewholetownnoless.

Thenextmorning,abouteighto’clock,BingpulledourrentalcartoastoponrueBasque,infrontofnumber9,droppingmetherewhilesheparkedjustbeyondthefountain.Istoodinthestreetwatchingher,stabilizingmyselfwithoneofourtallwalkingsticks.EverynowandthenI’dbeengettingacaseofthewhirlies.Ididn’twantmyreturntorueBasquetobeafloponmyface.

Thefrontdoorwasclosed,locked,andcoveredindust.Nobodyaround.Ididn’tfeellikegoinginsidejustyet,soIstartedaslowwalktowardthefountainwhereBingwasstanding,lettingmefeelmywaybackintotheflowofBlackMountain.Asensitivetouchonherpart.

ThenCabriolecameflyingoutofMaurice’swindow!Helandedonallfoursinfrontofme,thenflippedontohisrearlegsanddancedacircleofpaw-waving“hello’s.”Iwassurprisedandreallydelighted.Heseemedsogladtoseeme,Iwastrulymoved.ThenMauricecameouthisdoor,lookedhardatmycondition,arminasling,weightloss,prettyfrailIimagine,andhestartedtellingmehowhe’dbeeninmuchthesame

imagine,andhestartedtellingmehowhe’dbeeninmuchthesameconditionafteranengagementwiththeNazisonLaMontagneNoirein1944.Amazingly,Iunderstoodmostofwhathesaid.

AsIreachedthesquare,Carolinecameoutofthepatisseriewithherarmsfullofbaggedpainstoputinherdeliverytruck.Seeingmechuggingalongtowardthefountain,herbigbluesopenedwide,ahugesmilefilledherface,andsheturnedtocallforFraçoistocomeoutoftheshoptoaddhiswelcometomyreturn.And,acrosstheway,M.Villedieux,proprietorofthemini-grocerywherewe’dfirstgottenourgastanks,cockedhisheadinmydirectionandgavemeawavetoo.ThensomeoftheoldfolksupintheirwindowsattheMaisondeRetraitesmileddownatmeandcalled,“Bonjour,”adding,“Est-cequevousêtesenforme?”(Areyouingoodshape?)

Wow,IfeltlikeAndreAgassiafterwinningtheUSOpen,bowingandwavingtothefourpointsofthestadium.“Merci,merci,mercibeaucoup,”Icalledtoallsowarmlygreetingand,itseemed,forgivingme.Then,frombehind,Iheard,“Tun’apasunmercioubonjourpourmoi,monami?”

Iknewthevoice,butforhimtobeusingthefamiliartensewasabigsurprise.BeforeIturned,IlookedatBingstandinginfrontofmewithahugesmileonherface.

“Laurant,monDieu…”Isaid,honestlytakenaback.

“PastonDieu,tonami,”(NotyourGod,yourfriend)hesmiledashewalkedtowardme,hisarmswide.

Ihobbledtwostepshiswayand,amazinglyenough,helaidhishandsgentlyonmyshouldersandtouchedeachcheektomineinthemostfamilialwayonemancangreetanotherinFrance.

THETHREEofushadsometimetogetherononeofthebenchesbythefountain.Atleastuntilatroupeofothersjoinedus,turningourreunionintoasmallparty.CarolineandFraçoisbroughtcroissantsandpainsauraisins.MauricehadtoldfolksatthecaféIwasback,soClaudeandSophiestrodeupwithpitchersofhotcoffee,warmmilk,andcups,“complémentsduPartiCommuniste”(complementsoftheCommunistParty),theyassuredmewithalaugh.

Severalmorepeopleappeared,amongthemMmeCrespifromacrossthestreetandM.Propre,Mr.CleanasI’dnamedhim,thebalayeur,orstreet-sweeper.Hewasonhismorningrounds,butwashappytostopforacaféaulait.MmeFontaine,ninetyplusyearsold,whomwesoongottoknowbetterasLaReinedelaMontagneNoire,theQueenofBlackMountain,strodeupwithherhugedogMedussaintow,orwasittheotherwayaround?Andquiteunexpectedly,L’AgentSecretslippedfrombehindthewheelofhisblacksedanparkedonthefarsideofthesquare,againequippedwithabottleofBordeauxinonehand,twoglassesintheother.Iguessifasecretagentwasn’tgoodforsomeearlymorningclaret,thenwhowas?

Whenthingsfinallysettleddown,BinghelpedClaudecleanupthebitsofdebristherendez-voushadproduced,thensheandSophiemanagedtodragtheslightlytipsySecretAgentbacktowardthecafé,givingLaurantandmeachancetobealone.

“AhLaurant,IamsosorryforwhatIsaid.ThewayIacted.I—”

“Please,please,please.Inthiscountry,myfriend,weunderstandanger.Weallgetagitédetempsentemps,butwealsoknowhowtoletthosefeelingspass,astimepasses.Eachmorningbringsanewday.We

sayaurevoirtoyesterday,bonnejournéetowhatliesahead.Please,forgetthepastasIhaveforgottenit.”

“ButIsaidsomehorriblethings,infrontofthewholevillage.

“C’estvraiyouspokewithd’énergie.AndIwilladd,youraccentwasquitegood.PerhapsalittlemoreMidi-PyrénéesthanTarn,butyouaredoingwell,”hesaid,pattingmyback.“Remember,forweFrench,itisnotwhatyousay,buthowyousayit.”

“Laurant,youarekind,andveryforgiving,butthereisstillsomethingthattroublesmeandwasprobablyalargepartofmyexplosion.WhenBingandIareworkingonthehousewithyou,youspeakonlytoher.ItisasifIamnotpresent.YoudidthatthedayIgotsoangry.IwasalreadyupsetwithwhatJean-Jacqueshadbeendoingtous;yourspeakingonlytoBingwasthecoupdegrâce.”

Laurantgavemeaquizzicallook,cockedhishead,thenpuffedhischeekandlettheairhissout.

“So…nowIsee.Look,myfriend,andIreallymeanmoncherami,ourcustomhereistospeaktothewomanofthehousewhendiscussingmattersofthehouse,evenwhenthehusbandispresent.Thehomeisthedomainofthelady,thewife…”

“Buteveryoneelsespeakstome,notBing.”

“Becausetheyaretheworkers.Jesuispatron.Wespeakatdifferentlevels.Allofthisispartof,whatyoucall,oldEurope.Theoldworld.Youarefromthenew.Therearemanydifferenceswhichcanbeconfusing.So,thatisallthathappenedhere.Amisunderstanding.Nothingmoreandcertainlynothingrelatingtotheladies.Look,IamaFrenchman,butthatdoesnotmeanIwilltrytotakeeveryman’swoman.

Perhapsaselectfew,butcertainlynotyourBing.Trustme,”hefinishedwithwhathadtobeamischievoussmile.

“So,come,letusgobacktothehouse.Ihavesomequestionsaboutthewellinthecourtyard.Howyouwishitconstructed.And,whileBingiswithus,Ipromisetobenicetoyoutoo.”

Ilaughedoutloud,athishumoraswellaswithrelieffortheweighthehadliftedoffmyconscience.IhadbeenforgivenbyLaurant,myfriendLaurant…onehellofadecentman.

WITHAroomrentedattheAbbeyfortheforeseeablefuture,IguiltilysuccumbedtoanapeachafternoonafteramorningofwritingandbeforehobblingdowntoChâteauPoubellefortheday’slastlook-see.Andbecauseofthesesolitarywalks,Igottoknowstillmoreaboutthevillage’srhythms,itsebbsandflows.Mysorryphysicalstate,andseeingBingtakingchargeofsomanythings,seemedtowinthetown’ssympathy.And,beingtheonlyoff-seasonAmericansaround,wehadfirstbeenknownasLesAmericans;butnowjustBingandMonsieurKen.(MygrayhairwonmetheMonsieurdesignation.SinceBinglooksmuchyounger,sheescapedMadame.)

OnevillagerIranintoalotwasPhillippeBeaugeste.HehadprobablybeenthemostunderstandablepersonwemetduringourfirststayinBlackMountain.Hisfacewasplasticandheusedhishands,shoulders,andentirebodysoeffectivelywecouldusuallyfigureoutwhathewastryingtotellus.(Forallthat,IthoughtitonlyappropriatehisnamewasBeaugeste.)

Heandhiswifewereincrediblyhospitable,invitingusforaperitifsandintime,Sundaylunches,evenmulti-coursedinners.Atoneofthese

Bingaskedthem,“Whydoyouhaveustoyourhomesooften?OurFrenchisimproving,butwemakesomanymistakesandaresoslow.Itmustbeterribleforyou.”

MadameBeaugestelaughed,saying(asbestwecouldunderstandit),“Notatall.Weenjoyhearingthewayyousaythings.Veryentertaining.Forusyouareliketelevision…”

So,BingandIhadbecomeBlackMountain’sprivatesitcom.

Asasmallpaybackforpeople’sconcern,especiallyClaude’s,Binggottheideatospruceupthebigflowerboxesoutfrontofhiscafé.SincehewasBlackMountain’sleadingTrotskyite,andtheCommunistshadheldafive-personrallybythefountainonMayDay,itseemedappropriatetobrightenhisplaceincommemorationoftheevent.WeboughttwodozensetsofimpatiensfromPointVert,abignurserynearby,andbeforesunriseonemorningweplantedtheminthebigboxes.Bymid-morning,withthesunbeamingdown,peoplewerewalkingbyandnoddingtheirapprovalofthecolorfulblossomsbrighteningthecafé’soutdoorterrace.

BingandIdidn’tsayanythingaboutthemwhenwesatdownfortheplatdujour.But,afterthemeal,aswepaidourbill,Icouldn’tresistcommentingtoClaudeaboutthenewplantings.

“Biensûr,mesamis,”hesaid,“thatisoneoftheblessingsofoursocialistsystem.Thegovernmentplantsprettyflowersforeveryonetoenjoy.ItistoobadyoudonothavethesameintheUnitedStates.”

“Pasgrave,moncamarade,”Isaid,shakingmyhead,“perhapssomedaywewillbesofortunate.”

AfterClaudewalkedaway,Bingputherhandonmygoodarmandasked,“Arewenowsocialistgovernmentworkers?Wow.Maybethey’llpayyourmedicalbills.”

payyourmedicalbills.”

WesharedagoodlaughandpromisednevertotellClaudewhoplantedtheflowers.Thefive-personMayDayrallyhadbeenbadenough.Whatifhediscoveredcapitalistswereresponsibleforlesjolisfleurs?

MYRECUPERATIVEwalksalsointroducedmetothebeastsofBlackMountain.MichelatLaBrasseriewasthevillage’snumberonerescuerofcastoffs.Thefirstofthestrayshe’dtakeninyearsearlierwasnamedLundi,Monday.Thismutthadatbestajumbledbloodline,makinghimlooklikeastumpy-legged,bob-tailedRhodesianRidgeback.He’dbeenterriblymistreatedinhisyouthandconsequentlyhadagrowlinglymiserablepersonalityinhisoldage.Hewouldbarkandsnapatmostanyonewhocamenear.Perfectforsittingaroundinarestaurant?Right.

Mardi,Tuesday,wasahugefemaleGreatDanewho’dbeenleftasapupinaboxbythedoor.Lundiignoredher.Sheignoredhim.Mercredi,yesWednesday,wasagoose.TherestofMichel’sweekwasmadeupofcats,butforDimanche(Sunday),aniguanawhosatinfrontofahotlampbythebarandatefliesasentertainmentforthehumanbarflieswhoalsofrequentedtheplace.

MyoldfriendCabriolewouldoccasionallywanderintoLaBrasserietoharassLundi,butthemainthreattoLundi’stranquilitywasMonsieurCoq’sgiantcat,Maximus.TomethatmonsterlookedacrossbetweenaLynxandaPyreneesmountainbear.Hemusthavebeenfiftypounds.Evenhorse-likeMardigavehimwidebirth.Onlyoneanimalinthevillageseemedtohavethegutstogohead-to-headwithMaximus,andhernamewasMedusa.MadameFontaine’sbigBouvier.

WefirstchattedwithMadameFontainewhenMedusa,payingno

attentiontomyinfirmities,bumpedmeasideasshegallopeddownrueBasqueinhotpursuitofMaximus.ButmostextraordinaryinthiswastheelderlyladyattachedtoMedusa,comfortablyjoggingbehindwithoutnoticeableconcernforthebrouhahadevelopingahead—lareine,MmeFontaine,thequeen.

Stoppingbyme,withBingcomingoutourfrontdoor,thegrandedamereignedinherbeastwithoneofthoseclutchedfishing-reeltypeleashes,crankingthemountainoushoundbacktowhereitofferedawet-tonguedhellotousboth.Duringtheprocess,MadameFontainetookholdofmygoodarmtostabilizethewobbleMedusahadsetmeinto,andwithtwinklingeyesannounced,“DemainJ’auraiquatre-vingt-dixans.”

“Youwillbeninetyyearsoldtomorrow?Impossible,”Isaid,Bingnoddingherownsurprise.“Madam,youcannotbeadaymorethanfifty,”Iofferedwithasmileandbow.

“Youareverykind,monchevalier,”shereturned,longeyelashesgentlylowered,“butinfactitistrue…andninetyyearsarequiteenoughforonelife.”

ThewayMadameFontainesaidthatunnervedusabit.Whatwouldtomorrowhold?Suicide?IglancedatBing,whoseeyesdartedbacktoMadamewithequalconcern.

“Therefore,“shesaid,placingasoothinghandonmygoodarm,“thedayaftertomorrowIshall…commencemynextlife!”

Allthreeofusburstoutlaughing,andMadameFontaineinvitedusbacktoherhouseforsometeaandunpetitbisquit,peut-être.Weaccepted.

Medusaseemeddelightedtohavenewfriendstojumpupon,whichI

Medusaseemeddelightedtohavenewfriendstojumpupon,whichIfearedmightre-breakmyachingribs.MadamequicklynotedmydiscomfortandscoldedMedusa.(BingandIagreeditwasterriblydeflatingtobeinthepresenceofanimalsthatunderstoodFrenchbetterthanwedid.)

WalkingalongthenarrowsidewalkbehindBingandMmeFontaine,Iwassurprisedathowyouthfulhercarriagewas.Somanyolderpeoplearesaggyorshapelesswithpipestemlegs,andshufflealongwithanalmostdefeatedair.ThiswashardlythecasewithMadame.Shehadcalves,evenapertderrièreshesashayedalongwithlikeawomanhalfherage.Andshedressedwell—anicelycutwooldresswithashort-sleevedsweater,blackMaryJaneshoes,andawhitescarf.Shelookedgreat.Latershesaidsheconsideredherbodylikehershop,somethingtobekeptpresentableandpropre.

EnteringthelittlemewsleadingtotheFontainehouse(withthenumber1onthedoor),wefeltweweresteppingbackhundreds,ifnotathousandyearsintime.Thenarrowwaywascobbled,butonlyameterorsowiderthanaMiniCooper.Herhousewasofstone,acrossfromawalledgarden.Attheendthelanethecobblesturnedright,curlingaroundtheAbbeyToweritself,whichwelaterlearnedsharedaninteriorwallwithMadame’sshopandabedroomabove.ThiswasthetowerrebuiltbyCharlemagne’sfather,Pepin,aftertheVisigothslaidruintoitinthesixthcentury.

MadameFontainegaveusthegrandtour.Thoughintheverycenterofthevillage,herownwalledgardenmadeitseemwewereoffinthecountry.Flowers,vines,trees,atinyfishpondandalargecagefullofchirpingbirdscomplimentedthesetting.

Returningtoherlivingroomfortea,shegaveusapeekintothecharmingshopsheopenedafternoonsandweekends.Heresheshowedusherownoilandpastelpaintings,aswellasthepoupées(dolls)shecreated.Ontheshelvesweredisplaysofherwritings,novels,andpoetry.KnowingthatIwrote,sheproducedhercurrentdiaryformetoreview.Shesaidshewroteiniteverydayandfromitdrewinspirationforherfiction.

IglancedacrossatBing.Theexpressiononherfacemusthavemirroredmyown.Hereweweregrousingaboutbeingsaddledwithredoingthehouseandhowlittletimethatleftusforpaintandpen,whenthisnear-ancientwomanwasproducingamultitudeofworkseveryday,withonlyasmileandac’estlavieshrugattherigorsshefaced.

“MadameFontaine,”Bingbegan,lookingaroundinhonestwonder,“howdoyoudoallthis?Youproducesomanythings.Youareamazing.”

“Ohdeargirl,Idosolittle,butIintendtodomoresoon.ShortlyIwillbestartingclassesforthearea’sbuddingtalentbetweentheagesofnineandsixteen.Theproblemtodayisthatyoungpaintershavenodisciplineinthefundamentalsofbrush,stroke,color,andcomposition.Iamespeciallypleasedthisnewprojectwillcommenceinthefirstdaysofmynewlife.”

AFTEROURtea,walkingbackdownrueBasquetowardChateauPoubelle,duskwasclosingin.Ifeltalittlewhippedbymybusted-upbody,andatthesametimeinvigoratedbywhatwe’djustbeenexposedto.AsfrustratedasBingandIwerewithallthecrapthathadcomedown,

MadameFontainehadbeenaninspiration.Ifshecoulddoallshedidatageninety,thencertainlywecouldtoo.Ofcourse,thathadalwaysbeenBing’sattitude;Iwasthelatearrivalonboard.

IdecidedthatafterleavingBingatthehouse,I’dgetbacktoourroomattheAbbeyandworkonthemanuscript.MyfictionalterroristswerejustabouttosendasunriserocketintothecrownoftheStatueofLiberty,openingtheirDayofJihad.NewYorkCitybuildingswouldfall,engulfingthestreetsinflames.“Infidels”woulddie,whileAllahwouldriseupsupremeonaseaoftheunbelievers’blood.

Beforewereachedthefrontdoor,somethingsolidasarockslappedmehardoffthesideofmyhead!Whatthehell?

TWENTY-NINETHEFERALFAMILYHEREANDMADAMEFONTAINETHERE

IHADdroppedtoaknee.Whathappened?Iwastotallyconfused.

Bing’smomentumcarriedherafewstepsfurtherdownthesidewalk,butthewhopstoppedher.Sheturnedandstaredatmewide-eyed.I’dgoneintoadefensivecrouch,partlyfromtheimpact,therestfromreflex…aflickeroftheMarinestillaliveinmybones.Ilookeduptomyright,andthere,inanopensecond-floorwindowacrossrueBasque,stoodagrinningteenagerjustlettingflywithanotherhardball—white,round,fast,andwhistlingstraightformyhead.

Americanboysgrowupcatchingandthrowingballsand,likeridingabicycle,wedon’tforgethowtodoit.So,Ipivotedinstinctively,raisedmyrighthand,andcaughtthethingcomingatme.IwassopumpedIwasn’tfeelinganypain,atleastforthemoment.Gettingbackonmy

feet,Istrodeforward,andfiredwhateveritwasinmyhandashardasIcouldstraightbackthroughthewindow.WHACK!Apreciousmoment.I’dcaughtthenastyboysmackontheforehead!Itsoundedlikeabaseballbathittingtheball.Hedroppedlikeasackofcement,outofsightbelowthewindowsill.I’dwonthekewpiedoll!Andalotofhurtalongwithit.

Icrumpledagainstourdoorjamb.Bingjumpedtomyside,reachingundermygoodarmtokeepmefromgoingdown.Myribswerekillingme,butbetweenleaningagainstthefrontofourhouseandBing’ssupport,Iwasabletoratchetmyselfuptoastandingposition.

“What…?”Iquestionedstaringdownattheball-sizeglobinthegutter.

Shebentandpickeditup.Itwasawadofoldplastertightlywrappedwithmaskingtape.Itwashard.Iwassurprisedthethinghadn’tfracturedmyskull.Ididn’tcarewhatIhaddonetothekid’sfathead.

Then,upbythefountain,theheadlightsofablacksedanflashedseveraltimes.Whatwasgoingon?IfeltlikethecentralcharacterinaB-movie.Thecar’sdooropenedandoutcametheSecretAgent.Ahhah.WasIeverhappytoseethatcrazycharacter’sface.

“Monsieur,Madame,bonsoir,”hesaid,reachingintohisjacketpocketandwithdrawingasmallleatherday-planner.Slippingitsclasp,hewithdrewapen.“Isaweverything.Haveyouastatementyouwishtomake?”

BingheldupthemissilefortheSecretAgenttoseeandsaid,“AboythrewthisfromthewindowupthereandhitKenonthehead.”

M.Agentuncappedhispenandjottedsomethingontoanotepadintheplanner.Ashedidsohemuttered,“Gitan.”

“TheboyisaGypsy?”Iasked.“Howdoyouknowthat?”

Withoutapauseinhiswriting,hesaid,“Iknowmanythings.”

“Hmm,”Ireturned,nottotallyconvinced.Finallystraightenedup,Isaid,“Ineversawanyonebuttheoldmanwiththeclosedeyelivingthere.”

“TheoldmanhadbeenintheMaquis.Hedied.Whileyouwereaway.Iclosedthehouse.Thesepeopleaskedtorentit.Lenotairehandledit.Theyhaveayear’slease.Ofcourse,oncetheyarein,itisdifficulttogetthemout.”

“Interesting,”saidBing.“Isthathowthingsarehere?Rentershavespecialrights?”

“Ibelieveyourlanguagespeaksofbirdsinbushesorhands.Whatever…”hesaidwithashrug.

“Wecallitsquatters’rights,”Isaid,feelingasharppainacrossmychest.Shit…ribsorheart?Ididn’tneedeither.

“Keepmeinformed.Iwillstayonthecase.Goodevening,Madame.Monsieur,”hesaid.Replacinghispen,re-claspingtheday-planner,andslidingitbackintohisjacketpocket.HenoddedtousandmovedaroundthecornerpastClaude’scafé.

BEFOREMYaccident,wehadbeenworkingwithaFrenchteachernamedEdwige.ShewasayoungishfriendofMadameFontaine’swhohadproddedustomeettheGrandeDame,iffornootherreasonthantoabsorbalotofthelocallore,ofwhichshewasknowntobethemaincurator.

EdwigewaskindenoughtocometotheAbbeyforourlessonsduringmyrecuperation.Todaywetoldherofouradventureswiththehard-

myrecuperation.Todaywetoldherofouradventureswiththehard-throwingteenager.ThenIaskedabouttheoldfellowwhousedtoliveinthatapartment,themanwhomIhadsmokedoutbackwhenIgotthebadfireplacesburningatnumber10.

“Ken,thereisafascinatingstoryinvolvingthatman,andMmeFontainetoo,”shesaid.“Iwillarrangedinnerwithhersoshecantellyouthewholetaleherself.Iwilltranslatewhateveristoodifficultforyou.”

TwonightslaterwewereallgatheredaroundHélléFontaine’stabletohearherstoryoftheMaquis,herroleintheResistance,andhowshehadrunintothemanwhohadlivedacrossthestreetlothosemanyyearssincethewar.

“First,letmeexplainafewthingsaboutwhatwedidhere,”shebegan.“Thewordmaquismeansscrubbrush.WhenHitlerstartedtakingouryoungmenintohisarmy,mostelectedtorunawayintotheforest,tohideinthebrush.Andsothename,Maquis.LaMontagneNoirearoundushereiswild.ItalsohappenedtobeundertheairroutestheFrenchandAmericanbombergroupsflewfromNorthAfricatoGermanyandback.Overthecourseofthewar,manyoftheseaircraftwereshotdown.TheirpilotswouldbailoutandhopefullybepickedupbytheMaquis.They’dbehiddeninvillageslikeoursuntiltransportwasavailableoverthePyreneestoSpainandontoPortugalforpickup.Ihidmanyunderastoneslabinmyentryfoyerhere.”

Atthatpointinhernarrativeandattheendofherfishcourse,Héllétroopedusoutofthediningroom,throughthesalon,tothefrontdoorsowecouldseehowtheslabshementionedwouldmove,thenliftandopentothecompartmentbelow.Extraordinary.

“Now,”shebeganagainwhilegatheringupthefirstcoursedishes.“In

“Now,”shebeganagainwhilegatheringupthefirstcoursedishes.“In1943,theSSmarchedintoBlackMountain.TheVichycollaboratorswerefailingtoenforceNazipolicies,especiallyrelatingtodeportationofJewsandhuntingdowntheResistance.

“Well,earlyonemorningIwasadvisedaFreeFrenchpilothadbeenshotdownafewdaysearlierandwashidinginArfons,onthemountain,butwouldbecomingtomydoormomentarily,injustminutes.HeandourpeoplehadevadedtheGermans,butbeforeenteringBlackMountain,Ilaterlearned,theymadeamistake.Asthesuncameup,ratherthanstayinsidetheforest,they’ddashedthroughDurfortandwereseen.”

Movingbehindusaroundthetable,HéllépouredoneofherdependableCôtesduRhônestocomplimentthenextcourseofcôteletted’agneau.Itwasamazingtowatchthisveryoldwomanhandlesuchamealservicealone.Shewouldstartwithatleastthreeplatesstackedateachplacesetting.Courseaftercoursewouldbereadyonherkitchentable,waitingtobeservedortobeheatedpriortoserving.Shewouldenterthediningroomwithatray,fromwhichshewouldslideeachportionontothetopplates.Asthatcoursewasfinished,she’dgatherthosedishes,takethemintothekitchen,andrepeattheprocess.Herwineswouldbeuncorkedandbreathingwhenwearrived,andshewouldservetheseandwaterthroughoutthemeal.Shediditallsoneatly,andwiththekitchensoclose,sheneverinterruptedherdiscussions.

Sittingbackdownandfluffinghernapkinintoherlap,shecontinued.“ThereporttheGermansreceivedwasonlyofasightinginDurfort,notthatthegrouphadcontinuedinthisdirection.So,firsttheDurforthomeswereransackedlookingforMaquis.ThoughtheNazisdidn’tfind

thepilot,theydidfindashortwaveradio.Accordingly,thefamilyinwhosehouseitwasweremadeexamples.Theentirevillagewasforcedtowatchastheywerelinedupagainstthemairiewallandasquadwithmachine-pistolscutthemdown.Thegrandfather,mother,andfather.Theyoungdaughterwassparedbutforcedtowatch,heldtightlyinthearmsofthemayor’swife.Tothisdaythebulletscarsareonthatwall.”

Héllébrushedafewloosestrandsofgrayfromherforehead,sighed,thensippedfromherglassofredwine.

“Wecouldheartheshotsfromhere.Wehadheardthemalotthatyearandknewperfectlywellwhattheymeant.Ourvillageswerepracticallyadjoining.Thenastaffcarandtwomotorcyclespulledupinfrontofourdoorattheveryinstanttheaviatorslippedintothehousethroughthegarden.Whattodo?Itwastoolatetogethimundertheslab.Iwasalreadyhurryingacrossitastheriflebuttsbangedagainstthedoor.Oh,howthatthump,thump,thump,soundedlikethedrumofafuneralprocession…andthebeatofmyheart.

“Myfathergrabbedthepilot’sarmandstartedhimupthestairs.Mymotherstoodonthefirststepasiftoblocktheway.Iwassureinmomentswewouldallbeshotdead.

“Iopenedthedoor.AyoungSSofficerwasstandingtherenexttoasergeantwiththerifle.Behindthemwereacarandtwomotorcycleswhoseridershadschmeissersattheready.Theofficerhadaswaggerstickandblackleatherglovesinhislefthand.Heheldhisrightouttomeashesaid,‘Gutenmorgen,fräulein.Wirden-wireintretenl’”

“IspeakGerman.Nodding,Isteppedasideforthemtoenter,butIdidnottakehishand.TerrifiedasIwas,IfeltIwasonstage,justplayinga

role.Iaskedthelieutenantifheandhismenwouldlikesomemilk,sinceitwassoearly,orperhapsbeer?Anythingtogaintime.Thesoldiers’expressionssaid“Ja,”buttheLieutenantsaid,“Neindanke.”

“Mystomachwasinaknot.Thepilotwasn’twhereheshouldhavebeen,underthefloor.Therewasnoplacetohideupstairs.Thump,thump,thump,continuedmyheart.

“Aftertheyinspectedthemainfloor,theystarteduptothepremieranddeuxièmeétages.Somehowmyparentswerecalm.IwishedIweresobrave.

“EveryroomwasgivenpreciseTeutonicattention.Theylookedunderbeds,behindcurtains,inarmoires,everywhereinthemasterbedroom,includingitscloset,wheretheyslidtheclothesleftandrightonthesteelpipewhilepayingcloseattentiontoasmallwalldoorintheback.Kickingitin,theyfounditsspaceempty.Theythumpedonfloors,bangedonwalls.Ifamanwasanywhereinthathouse,theywouldfindhim.

“Hehadtobeintheattic,Ithought,huddledhelplesslyundertheeaves.Weallfeltthetensionaswemountedthoselaststairs.IheardthelieutenantmutterMusliebezuGott”underhisbreath.IthinkhewasstartingtothinkwhathisOberstleutnantwoulddotomewhentheyfoundthefugitive.

“MyparentsstayedonthelandingasIcontinuedupbehindtheGermansintotheattic.Iknewmyparentsdesperatelywantedtotakeeachother’shands,ifonlytohugandpray…buttheyknewiftheydid,itcouldleadtotheirdeath.AsIreachedthelaststepthesoldierswerealreadythumpingabout,pushingthingsaside,bangingandcrashingagainstwhateverwasthere.Iknewinamomenttherewouldbea

againstwhateverwasthere.Iknewinamomenttherewouldbeascreamandashot.

“AsIenteredthegrenier,thelieutenantcalledtome,‘Vasistdas?’Hemusthavefoundtheman!IthoughtIwouldfaint.Butno,allIsawwashimpointingatthedust-coveredgrandpianothathadbeenthereforyears…whichhadasheafofdocumentsunderitscordsthatIhadplannedtosewintomyskirtstotaketoParisfortheMaquisthatevening.

“Continuingtopointtowardit,heasked,‘Doyouplay?’

“Ihesitated,riskingaquicklookaroundforthepilot.Nothing.‘No,Idon’t.Buttheatticmicedo,andtheyhavebeenplayingsooftenandsohard,someofthekeyshavestoppedsoundingnotes.Whatgoodissuchapiano,otherthanformicetoplay?’

“Thelieutenantlookedquestioninglyatme,pulledawaythecover,andhitalowregisterkey.Itsounded.Hehitseveralmore,untilheheardadullthunk.Thenafewmoreuntilnotessoundedproperlyagain.OfcourseIwasterrifiedhewouldopenthetopandlookinside.ButheonlysmiledandsaidIwasright.Thepianowasonlyfitformice.HeturnedandindicatedthatIshouldleadthewaybackdownthestairs.He’dfoundnothinginourattic.Iwasamazed,butbreathingagain.Nodocumentsfound.Nopilotfound.Howcouldthatbe?”

Toppingourglasses,Hélléwentontosaythatwhenthey’dtroupedbacktothefrontdoor,thelieutenantsnappedtoridgedattention,hissergeantfollowingsuit,theyclickedtheirheels,andnoddedformally.ThelieutenantthankedtheFontainesforallowinghisinspectionandofferedhisregretforupsettingtheirmorning.HeaddedhowpleasedhewasthattheywerenotthekindtoharborenemiesoftheThirdReich.

Hetouchedhisglovesandsticktohiscap,thenturnedsmartlytohiscar.Thesergeantfollowedandtooktheforwardseatnexttothedriver,whostartedtheengine.Thecycliststuckedtheirmachinepistolsontheirslingsbehindthemandkickedtheirmotorstolife.Withenginesroaringandgravelpingingdownthelanebehindthem,theywerequicklyaway,headedtowardthetownhall.

“Icouldhardlybreathe,”shecontinued.“Weweretotallyconfused.WhereinthenameofGodcouldthepilotbe?Likesmoke,heseemedtohavedisappearedintothinair.Wedashedfromroomtoroom,butnothing…until,inthemasterbedroom(theonlyonewithacloset),weheardawhispered,‘Aretheygone?’

“Icouldn’ttellwhereitwascomingfrom.Iwentintothecloset.Ifeltsomething,apresence.Ilookedupand,monDieu,therehewas!Pressedagainsttheceiling,abovethesteelpipethatheldtheclothes.Thepilothadsuspendedhimselfhorizontally,feetagainstonewall,withhisheelshookedoveritscrownmolding,hisforearmsagainsttheother.Howwasitpossiblehe’dkepthimselfsorigidforsolong?LaterhesaidGodhadgivenhimastrengthhe’dneverrealizedhehad.Attheendofthewarhedecidedtostaywherehe’dfoundGod.Andyes,Ken,hewastheneighboryousmokedoutofhishousethatcoldnightlastwinter,”sheconcludedwitharollofhereyesandgentlesmile.

ButtherewasmoretoHéllé’sstory.She’dstillhadhermissiontoParistocomplete.Thatnight,asthelasttrainfromToulousewaspullingout,adarkcapedfigurejumpedaboardtheendcar,unnoticedbytheincreasedNazisecurity.Sittingwithgreatcomposureinanotherwiseemptysecond-classcompartment,hercapewrappedlikeablanketaroundher,Héllésaidshecouldfeelthepressureoftheenvelopeshe’d

sewedintoherskirtheavyagainstherthigh.She’dbeenthinkingofherchildren,whohadbeenwithneighborsovernightwhentheGermanscamethatmorning.Theywerestillthere.Wouldpeopleaskquestionsaboutthat?Thoughshehadbeenstrongthroughsomuch,sittingalonelikethismadeherfeelvulnerable.Thecompartmentdooropened,givingherastart.Instinctivelyshesmiledattheconductorasshehandedhimheridentitycardandtheticketshe’dboughtadayearlier.Sheaddedaletterthatappearedtobeonofficialhospitalstationaryadvisingthathermotherwasneardeathinthecentralretrait(retirement)facilityinParis.Mamahadaskedthatshebewithherattheend.TheFrenchconductorhardlyglancedatthedocumentsbeforehandingthemoverhisshouldertothemaninthetrenchcoatbehindhim.Itwasseveralminutesbeforetheywerehandedback.

ThroughouttheprocessHéllésaidshetrieddesperatelynottomoveforfeartheenvelopeinherskirtwouldmakeacracklingsound.Herstillnesspaidoff.ShegotsafelytoParis,executedtherendezvousasbriefed,andthengotbacktoBlackMountainbeforeafternoonofthenextday.Noonewasthewiser.

Amazingly,shehadfoiledtheGermanstwiceinoneday,ahighpointinhercareerasaMaquisoperative.Anextraordinarywomantosaytheleast.Onewhowasbeginninghersecondlife,orperhapsherthird,whenthatofaspyforaFreeFrancewascountedinthemix.

Later,aswewalkedhome,IaskedEdwigemoreabouttheoldman.Sheexplainedthatthepressures,theterrorofthosedaysescapingtheNazis,alongwithinjurieshe’dsufferedintheparachutejump,hadledtoastrokelater.But,shereassuredus,itwasprobablythatverytraumathatsavedhislifeintheend,whichsheexplainedasHélléhadtoldittoherbefore.

herbefore.

TheGermancontingentstayedoninBlackMountain,increasingtheirnumbersandmakingitallthemoredifficultforthevillagetofunctionasaway-stationintheMaquisescapenetwork.Forthepilot,thestrokehadputhimintoawheelchair.Hewaspushedaroundtownasaninvalid,butaninvalidwithashortwaveradiobuiltintobaseofthatchair,fromwhichhecontinuedtoserveastheMaquis’messagemasterfortheregion.

IHEARDaninterestingadditiontothisadayortwolaterwhenIwasgoingbacktoourroomformynap.HélléwaswalkingMedusa.Sheinterceptedmeandwasastalkativeasever.IaskedherhowithadbeenfightingtheNazisathomewhilesomanyinPariswerecollaborating.

“Ken,youmustunderstand,”shesaid,layingahandonmyarminemphasis,“ParisisnotapartofFrance.Thathasbeentrueformorethanathousandyears.ParisisforlesParisiens,whohaveonlydistainfortherestofFrance.Weareonourown.Alwayshavebeen.Remember,PariscapitulatedtotheGermansinfivedays.WeofBlackMountain,alltheregion,foughtthebastardsforfiveyears.WithAmerica’shelp.Whichwehavenotforgotten,thoughParisanditspoliticianshave.Forthem,historygoesbacknofurtherthanyesterday’ssunset.”

THIRTYNOTTHESOUNDOFMUSIC

HAVINGAroomattheAbbeyHotelkeptusinthevillagemorethanwewouldhavebeenotherwise.Moreandmorepeopleweregettingtoknowus,andwethem.

ThehotelwatchedBing’scanvasesstackinguparoundourroomandaskedtodisplaytenoftheminprominentlocationsthroughoutthebuilding.ThisledtoherbeinginvitedintotheArtAssociation,whichhaditsownsmallgallerydownruedelaRépubliquefromthebutcher’sshop.WhatcouldIsay?Bingwasaheckofasuccessfulcompartmentalizer.Despiteallourupsetsandsetbacks,she’dtroopedonwithherpainting,workingaroundtheedges,andearnedthesetributestohermettle.So,growingmorecomfortableinthevillage,wedecidednottogobacktothedairyfarminSoualwhenitbecameavailable.

Also,beingaroundthismuch,wegotafeelforthespecialplacefamilyhasinthelifeofsmall-townFrance.Ingeneral,wefoundworking

parentsdon’tcommute.Ifthereisajoblocally,nomatterhowlittleitpays,theytendtotakeitratherthandriveadistanceforsomethingpayingmore.AsI’vesaidbefore,sincetheyhavelifelongsecurity,moneyisnotasimportanttothemasitistousinAmerica.

Thenthereisthetwo-hourmiddaybreak,whichbringsparentsandkidstogetherintheirownhomesforlunch.Thehalf-schooldayseachWednesdayandSaturdayalsoaddedtothatqualitytime.Andyet,despitealltheFrenchfamilieshavegoingforthem,badinfluencesstilllurk,especiallyontheoutskirtsoflargercitiesandtowns.Inoneword—McDonald’s.

Don’tgetmewrong.Whenmybladderisfull,IknowMcDonald’shasgreatbathrooms.Coffeetoo.ThatistrueinFrance,andprobablyallovertheworld.So,ondrivingtrips,that’swherewestopwhenweneedto.Andthat’swherewesawFrenchfamilyvaluesmostseriouslyundermined.

Ingeneral,theirkidsinrestaurantsaresuperb—quiet,respectful,asadultasanyyoungpersoncanbe.AtMcDonald’s,however,withtheloudnoisyvideogames,jarringcolors,clatteringmusic,rides,rough-and-tumbleplayareas,andallthatAmericanstuff,theFrenchkidsseemtobecomejustasnoisy,frenetic,andlessrespectfuloftheadultsasweseeoursbeingathome.Allofwhichsetmethinking.

“Bing,doyouthinkthekidwhohitmeontheheadeatsatMcDonald’salot?”

“Wecouldcheckwithl’AgentSecret,”sheansweredwithawink.

“Goodidea,”Isaid.“I’mfeelingwellenoughtowalkdowntoClaude’sforaglassofred.TheAgentmightbethere.Wanttocome?”

“I’mready,”shesaid,andwewereonourway.

“I’mready,”shesaid,andwewereonourway.

Beforegettingpastthefountain,however,catty-cornertothepatisserie,wesawourman’sblackVWsedan…withhiminside.Alone.Whatastrangedude.Stoppingbythedriver’s-sidewindow,Itappedontheglass.Heslowlyturnedhisheadandlookedup,muchasaself-assuredcatwould.

“Oui?”heasked.

“J’aimeraisunverredevin.Bingaussi.Etvous?”

Afteronlytheslightesteyeaction,hereplied,“Lemême.”

ClaudeseemedsurprisedwewalkedinwiththeSecretAgent.Thoughmycallinghiml’AgentSecrethadcaughtonaroundtown,andseemedtohavemadehimmoreofapubliccuriosity,weneversawpeoplespendingmuchtimewithhim.I’dneverevenseenhimwithagroupplayingbouleorjusthangingoutatClaude’sorLaBrasserie.Perhapssomeofitwashisairofalwaysbeingonthejob.Iguessfewpeoplewantedtogetinthewayofthat.

“Whatcanyoutellusabouttheboywhohitmeonthehead?”Iaskedl’AgentSecretasClaudeputthreeglassesandacarafeofredonourtable.

L’Agentpulledhisday-planneroutofhispocket,eyessweepingtheroom.Aftercheckingthefacts,hestartedspeakinginaDetectiveJoeFridaymonotone,likehewasreportinghisfindingstothechieforsomething.

“Name,Camille.Liveswithsister.Fatherdead,motherinprison.Sisterhasnine-year-oldson.Nohusband.Shedoesnotenjoyhavingherbrotheraround.Can’tcontrolhim.Camille’sambition—courier…ofpharmaceuticals.Expectstohaveamotosoon.Believesmobilitywill

givehimhisstart.Expectstobecaught,butseesprisontimeascareerenhancing.Camilleinfluencesanotherboywhohopestobehispartnerinthefuture.”

“Whatamess.Howdidyougethimtotellyouallthis?”Bingasked,herbrowwrinkling.

“ItoldhimIhadconnections.”

“Whatkindofconnections?”Iasked.

“Insideandout.”

“Ofwhat?”

“Prison,”hesaid,hiseyesholdingoursinaflatstare.

“Really?Goodheavens.Whatdidhesaytothat?”Bingasked.

L’Agentthumbedthroughafewpagesofnotes,ranhisfingerdowntillhefoundwhathewaslookingfor.Eyesleft,right;thenhesaid,“Cool.”Interviewover.

AstheSecretAgentsetoffaroundthecorner,Bingletoutasigh.“OhKenny,doyouthinkthere’sanythingwecandotohelp?”

Iwaswonderingthesamething.“Pierreworksinprisonreform.Maybewecouldgethiminvolved.Beforetheboygetsintrouble,inthiscase.”Iwasquietforamoment,thenadded,“Allthisissodifferentfromeverythingelsehere.”

“Iwonderiftherearen’talotofthingsgoingonweïvebeennaïiveabout,”shesaidthoughtfully.

“Rose-coloredglasses?”Iasked.

“Innocentsabroad,”sheconcluded.

ASTHETHREEmonthsmountedtofouronour“turn-key”purchase,most

ofthestreet-levelworkwasnearingcompletion.Inthecourtyard,underBing’sdirection,RougehadbuiltasemicircularwellagainstthewallthatseparatedusfromJacquesthemasonandhisfamilynextdoor,ontheothersidefromourMoroccanneighbors.Itwasabeautifulpieceofworkofslim,cast-offToulousianbrick.Rougelaiditperfectly,andthencapstonedthetopwithtileleftoverfromourbedroomfloor.AtPointVertwe’dfoundanarchedfountainface,whichRougecementedintothecourtyardwalloverthewell.Christopheranawaterpipeandrobinet(faucet)toit,hiddeninthewall’snewfacement.Thenheconnectedthattothelinehe’dalreadylaidtomycabinetdetoilette,animportantadditiontotheoldrabbithutchthatwasbeingtransformedintomyoffice.

ThoughPlacoandBrunoredidthewallsandceilingoftheoffice,I’dintendedtoputintheplumbingmyselfthere,asIhadintheotherbathrooms.OfcourseourwackoVolvodriverputanendtothat.Imustsay,however,myinjurieshadtheiradvantages.Mymanuscriptwasfinished.Afterafinaledit,hopefullywithinaweek,IwouldFedExittoVernoninLosAngeles.Hewouldgiveitanotherreadandatweak,andpassitontohiscontactsatDreamWorks.TheywouldhavemyNewYorkjihadthrillerbytheendofJuly,earlyAugust2001atthelatest.Whoknewwhatwouldhappenafterthat.

InadayortwoMichel,Laurant’smason,wouldbelayingthenewtilefloorstretchingfromthebackwallofmyoffice,joiningwhatheandPlacohadalreadyputdowninthecourtyard,thenonbeyondtocoverwhathadbeenthenastykitchen,nowourpetitsalon.Frenchdoorswouldgoinatbothendsofthecourtyard,givingmyofficeandthepetit

salonanopensunnyview,tyingeverythingtogetherintoonesweetpackage.

Whilethiswasgoingon,andBingwasatthehotelhelpingtohangherwork,Ifoundmyselfwatching,onlywatchinginfrustration,Laurant’steamunloadthetile.IfeltespeciallybadbecausethebigflatbedtruckblockedrueBasque,requiringallavailablehandstoopenthestreetasquicklyaspossible,andIcouldn’thelp.That’swhenIsawCamillecomeoutofhisdoor.Thiswasthefirsttimewe’dbeenfacetofaceatgroundlevelsincemybeaning.Wewerethesameheight.Youngversusold.Hisdemeanorwasmaussade,sullen.IhopedIlookedlessso,butinterestinglywedidsharesomething—touchingourhandstowherewe’dbeenhit;mytemple,hisforehead,wewerebothblackandblue.

“Çava?”Inodded.

“Çava,”hereturned.

“Whydidyouthrowthatthingatme?”

“ToseeifIcouldhityou.Whydidyouthrowonebackatme?”

“Toteachyoualesson.”

Heblewthatoffastypicaladulttalk.“What’sthetruckdoing?”

“Deliveringtilesforourhouse,”Isaid,statingtheobvious.“Willyouhelpunloadthem?”

“No,butImightliketobeamasonsomeday,”hereplied,continuinginthemaussade(sullen)mode.

“M.Thoreaunextdoorisanindependentmason.IcanintroduceyoutohimandtoM.deGaillac,lepadron,ifyoulike.”

“No.”

“Whynot?”

“Ihaveotherplans.”

“Ihaveotherplans.”

“Whattype?”

“Deliveries.TomorrowIwillhaveamoto.”

“Youareveryyoungforsuchwork.”

“Iwillgetolder.Youdid.”

“Thankyou.Butwhatofschool?”

“Idon’tneedschoolfordeliveries.”

“Thegovernmentsaysyoudo.”

“Foronlyonemoreyear.”

“Thenwhat?”

“Iwillbefree.”

“Freeforwhat?”

“Life.”

“Where?”

“Wherever.”

“Becareful.”

“Goodbye.”

SomehowIdidn’tfeelCamille’sfuturewasthatbright,norwasourrelationshiponanupwardtrack.AfterourconversationwithL’AgentSecret,Ifeltsorryforhim,hissister,theyoungersiblings,butIdoubtedI’dbeabletopenetratethekid’smindset.PerhapsJacques,themasonnextdoor,whohadafriendinthegendarmes,ortheSecretAgentcouldtalksomesenseintohim.Onsecondthought,expectingtheSecretAgenttodoanythingofthekindwas,atbest,astretch.IfPierreandMarie-Claudecamebackforanothervisit,theywouldbetheonestostartwith.

OURCELLphonerang.ItwasanoldPanAmfriendcallingtosayheand

hiswifewereontheirwaytoFrance.Ohshit.

“Bing,whatarewegoingtodo?Thehouseisstillallscrewedup.I’monlyfiftypercentmyself.Thekitchenisn’tin.Nofirst-floortiledowntilltomorrow.”

“Kenny,youknowRichandAnn,they’llhardlynotice.They’refamily,”shesmiled,takingmygoodhandinhers.

“Yeah,right,”Isaid,doingalittlemaussadenumberofmyown.

Oversubsequentcalls,welearnedRichandAnnwereplanningonamonth’sstayinProvence,thenvisitingusontheirwaybacktoSanFrancisco.Abitirrationally,IhadaddedProvencetomylonglistofirritations.Forme,itwaslikeStarbucks.Oneofthoseplaceseverybodygoesto.Gag.

“Provencesucks,”Isaid.

“Thankyouforsharingthatwithme,Kenny,”Bingsaid,shakingherhead.

“Imean,sincePeterMayle,nobodygoestoFranceanymore,justtoParisorProvence.IdoubtanybodyevenspeaksFrenchthere;tosaynothingoftheconditions—off-seasonrainandwindstormstransitioningtohigh-seasontrafficjamsandwall-to-wallforeignersallsweatingheavily.”

“Don’tbringthatupwithRichandAnn.We’lljustshowthemBlackMountain.They’llgetwarmandfuzzyforitlikewedid,”shesaidsensiblyenough.

OURDEARfriendsrolledinafterlunchtwodayslater,inabrandnewBimmerthathardlyfitdownrueBasque.Bigcar,bigpeople.Richard

hadbeenafootballplayerincollegeandAnnwasagoodfivefoottwelveherself.BlackMountainwasmeetingbiggie-sizedAmerica,intheflesh.

FortunatelyChristophehadbeenavailabletoinstallthetoiletandshowerintheupstairsbathroom.Withthatoperational,wedecidedtoputthetwoofthemintheonlybedroomequippedwithabedsofar:ours.Wewouldcontinuestayingatthehotel.Laurant’sguyshadputthetiledownfrommyofficethroughthepetitsalon,andit’dhadadaytoset.Wecouldentertainthere,thoughtheFrenchdoorswouldn’tbeinuntilthenextweek.Anightortwoofopen-airaperitifswouldbeokay.

AfterRichandAnnhadbeenshownaround,theirbaggagehauledupstairsandfacesfreshened,weassembledinthepetitsalon.Wesatonwhickerfurniturewe’djustboughtthatmorninginanearbygrocerystore,ofallplaces.We’dfirstseenthestuffinthemedievalpizzashop,andtheproprietor/jugglertolduswheretofindit.Theequivalentof$200boughtustwosofas,twocoffeetables,andfourchairs.Whatadeal.

WhenAnnsetherbigpurseonthefloor,outpoppedtheirtinywhitepoochnamedJumpUp,whoimmediatelyhoppeddirectlyontooneofthetables,almosttopplinganopenbottleofCôtedeTarn.ThenitmadefortheplateofCamembertandpetitesbaguettes.RichquicklyscoopedherupasAnnfilledusinonherhistory.

“Youknowme,Kenny,sometimesIforgetthings,”shebegan,takingaglassoftheredTarnIofferedeveryone.“OnetimeIflewintoParisfromBerlinanddidn’trealizeJumpUpwaseveninmypurse.Shesleepssomuchandissotiny.She’saTibetanbreed,originallybredtobelivingbody-warmersformountainmonks.Thedogs’bodytemperatureis104

body-warmersformountainmonks.Thedogs’bodytemperatureis104degrees,andtheysleepsixteenhoursaday.Theyhaveanunderbitesotheycan’tnipiftheygetrolledon.Themonkshavebiginsidepocketssewnintotheirrobestoslidetheselittleheater-dogsinto,”sheconcluded,reachingtotakeJumpUpfromRich.

Anntookthedogintowhatwouldsomedaybeourkitchen.ShehadabottleofwatershepouredfromintoadishforJumpUp;thenshereturnedtothepetitsalon.Afterwe’dsippedabitofCôtedeTarn,Richaskedforatasteofthelocalpastis.Iwentbacktothefuturekitchenwhereafewcartonsofbottleswerestacked,alongwithaboxofglasses.Ipouredaninchorsoofpastisintoeachglassand,spottingthewaterbottleAnnhadleft,toppedthedrinksfromit.

TheFrenchlovetheirpastis.EverycountryinEuropehasitsownversionofthelicoricedrink—ouzoinGreece,forinstance—thoughAmericansdon’tseemtooenamoredwithit.Weenjoyedthissip,however,atleastuntilAnngavealittlespeechonhowimportantitisfordogstohavetheirownwater,withtheirownscent,andhowshealwayscarriedJumpUp’sspecialrecycledwaterinherprivatebottle.

ATLABrasserie,Michel,Jesselyne,andFrançois,thehard-partyingBasqueserveur,weredelightedtomeetourAmericanfriends.ItwasFriday,jazznight,sotheguysinthebandwerehappytoseeustoo.Wehadaroaringtime.RichslippedintoasmilingeuphoriawhileAnnkeptbreakingupwithlaughterassheandBingactedlikeschoolgirlsviolatingcurfew.Igotamajoritchtodance,probablyattributabletothemedicinalquantitiesofwineconsumedtoassistthemendingofmywoundedarm.(Itdidseemtohelp.)OffwenttheslingasIdancedwithBingandAnn,andwithJesselyne,andevensomesnappy-looking

collegegirlfromToulouse,tosaynothingofmakingacoupleofturnswithareluctantMichelBondhimself.Weallgotalotofapplauseand,bytheendoftheevening,ImustsaywhatlittleofmyarmIcouldfeel,feltgreat.

Intheweehours,wellpastmidnight,walkingthecobbledmewsbacktoChâteauPoubelletodropoffourfriends,wewereallarminarm.I,forone,feltlikeafeatherfloatingthroughamistoffulfillingdreams.BingandIhadsteppedoutofallwe’dknownforalifetime…andsteppedintothisfarawayworldofwalledgardens,stonecastles,andstorybookpeople.Aheadasuddenbreezechurnedupthethingroundfog,sendingittumblingofftheglisteningcobblestones,rollingituptohalothestreetlampsinorangeandlemon.Thesoundofourfootfallsechoedgentlyaheadofusintothenight.

Then…uprueBasque,aroundthefountain,andtowardtheAbbeyHotelcamethehigh-pitchscreechandblap,blap,blapofone,thentwo,andfinallyathirdwretchedlyloudandnastymini-moto!Camille’sdreamofownershiphadcometrue…shatteringmine.

THENEXTmorningwasgrim.Atsix-thirty,three,maybefourhoursafterweclosedLaBrasserie,Bingbangedmeontheback.

“Kenny,Kenny.Wakeup.Raoulwillbeatthehouseatseven.You’vegottobetherewhenhecomes,”shesaid,gettingherselfupandheadingtothepotty.

Iwantedtodie.Myskullwaspounding.Myarmwasthrobbing.Mytongueandthroatwerelikesand.Andmyteethhurt.Somuchformoderation.“ScrewRaoul,”Ithought,pullingapillowovermyhead.ButthenIheardthetoiletflushand,likeatruePavlovian,itwasmy

ButthenIheardthetoiletflushand,likeatruePavlovian,itwasmyturnforthebathroom.

Boundingoutofthebed,InearlybowledBingoverdashingforthejohn.Ohman.Ijustmadeit,butdidn’thavetheluxuryofreallyenjoyingthemoment.Isuddenlygotanattackofhiccoughswhich,employedasIwasatthatmoment,werecausingsomelogisticalproblems.Iwassensingthiswouldnotbeagoodday.

Quicklygettingdressed,almostputtingtwosocksononefoot,Idasheddownthehotel’sancientstonesteps,outthedoor,acrossthecobbledcourtyard,anddownthetopendofrueBasquetowardthehouse.

Igottonumber9justasRaoulraisedhisfisttowhackonthedoor.Hisbigtruckhadonesideofthestreetblocked.Twohugearmoiresdidtherest.Damn,Ihadforgottenhowbigthosebeautieswere.

IcroakedaBonjour.Raoulturnedandsmiled.“Unelonguenuit?”

“Biensûr,etmatêteelleestcassée.”

“Carryingthesearmoiresupthestairswillclearyourhead.Let’sgetstarted,Ionlyhaveafewminutes,”Raoulsaid.

Howtogetthemupwastheissue.ThenRichappeared.HehadbeenmoremoderatethanI,sohelookedalotfresher.And,thoughwe’dbothbeenMarinepilots,he’dbeenintransports.Thoseguysweremuchmoreorganizedthangrab-assfighterjocks.So,figuringouthowtogetsuchbigpiecesupourtinywindingstairwaywasexactlythekindofthingaguylikeRichlovestosinkhisteethinto.

Handlingthefirstarmoirewasnotthatdifficult.Weremoveditstopsection,doors,drawers,andbottomstand,thenRich,Raoul,andhisshortbutpowerfulhelper,awoman,gotituptothemasterbedroomwithoutserioustrouble.Ihelpedwiththerestofthestuff.

withoutserioustrouble.Ihelpedwiththerestofthestuff.

Thesecondpiece,muchbiggerthanthefirst,wassomethingelse.SinceRaoulhadotherdeliveriestomake,hedidn’twastetimepursuingtheoptionsonthisbabyandleftittous.Clearlytherewasnowaythethingwouldmakeitupourtightstairwayanyway.AsRaoulheadedbacktohistruck,hepointedtothesecond-floorwindowsandsaidusingthemwouldbetheonlywaywe’dbeabletodoit.

ThoughIwasfunked,Richwasstillintopform.HestrodeauthoritativelytotheendofthestreetandstoppedinfrontofClaude’scafé.Whyhadn’tIthoughtofthat?Yes.Tohellwiththearmoire,let’shaveabeer.

Richwavedtome.Iwavedback.Odd.Hewavedharder,soIwalkeddowntoseewhathisproblemwas.Ahhah.InfrontofClaude’s,whichwasn’topenyet,wereseveraltallstacksofplasticchairs.Richpickedupaunitoffiveandhumpedthemaroundthecornerontothesidewalknexttothemightyarmoire.Ifollowedsuit,prayingmyleftarmwouldn’tcomeoff.ThenBingarrivedandlookedquestioninglyatme.Ishrugged.SheshruggedandwentinsidetoseehowAnnandJumpUpwerefairing.

RichandIkeptmovingchairsuntilwehadstackslikestepsreachingtothesecond-floorwindow.Goinginsideandupstairs,Richtookthewindowsofftheirhinges,enlargingtheopeningtoitsmaximumdimension.Thenwegotsomeropeandwrappeditaroundthearmoire.WetossedoneenduptoBingandAnn,who’dpositionedthemselvesinthewindowasguidesandropepullers.Richtippedthearmoireontotheslopingstackofchairsandstabilized.Theladiespulledfromthewindowasthetwoofus(mostlyRich)pushedfrombelow.Amazinglyenough,

bitbybit,itwentup.OfcourseIwassureI’dtorquemyribsagain,orbendtherodinmyarm,butnothingofthesorthappened.Finallythearmoirenudgeduptothewindowsill.Itwistedaroundtogettheweightofitontomyback,whileRichranintothehouseanduptowhereBingandAnnheldtherope.Thenthethreeofthempulleditinside.We’ddoneit!Or,moreaccurately,Richhad,assistedbytwobeautifulwomenandonebusteduptroudeballe.

THENEXTnight,whilewesleptsoundlyattheAbbeyHotel,ourguestswerekeptuptoallhoursbythenoisefromCamilleandhisbuddy’smotos.Twomorenightsofthatputmeathisdoor,steaming.

“Camille,Ilovemotorcycles.IrideHarley-DavidsonsinAmericaandhaveonebeingrepairedinCastres.SoIknowbikes,butIknowbruit(noise)too.Harleyshaveastrongsoundthatissatisfying.Yourmoto,andthoseofyourfriends,aretooloudandtheirsoundisodieux(obnoxious).Iwillmakeyouanoffer.Iwillbuyyouandyourfriendsnewmufflersforallyourmachines,ifyoupromisetoputthemon.”

“Monsieur,mamotoestparfaitecommeça.”(Mybikeisperfectasis.)Great.

Forthetimebeing,withagoodFrenchshrug,Igaveupandtookourguestsforafewdaysoftouring,farawayfromCamilleandhisnoisyboys.Wesawallkindsofgreatplaces—Albi,Carcassonne,Mirapoir,Cordes-sur-Ciel,Gaillac,Toulouse,Bessier.FinallywetookthemtotheCanalduMidiatPortLauragais,fordinneronAdrian’sbarge.ThiswasaspecialsurpriseBingandIhadarrangedforRichandAnnbeforeleavingBlackMountain—theywouldcelebratetheiranniversaryontheIsatis.

Theeveningstartedwithaperitifsontheforedeck,thenanotherof

Adrian’sgrandspreadscompletewithhisLauragaislectureinthesalonbelow.ThenBingandImadeourdeparture,leavingourdearfriendsonboardtocelebrateinthesamesuitewe’dstartedourlong-delayedhoneymoon.Theiranniversarywouldbetheirlastdaywithus,sowe’darrangedwithAdriantoputtogetheranotherofthosewonderfulovernightexperiencesforwhichhewasgrowingfamous.

Happily,RichandAnnwerethrilled.Wefeltverygoodaboutit,especiallywhentheydecidedtostayonthepénicheforanothernight.BlackMountainhadbeenaspecialtreatforthem,justasitwasforus.Takethat,Provence!

WITHRICHandAnnsafelyontheirwaybacktoSanFrancisco,BingandIfinallymovedintonumber9rueBasque.Unfinishedasitwas,anddespitethefivemonthsoverrunontheoriginal“turn-key”date,wereallyweremovingin.Whatthehell.

Camille,nevertheless,wasstillaproblem.OnourreturnfromPortLauragais,wediscoveredhe’daddedagiganticboomboxtohiscollectionofnoisemakers.Themotoissuehadnotbeenresolvedandnowthis.BOOM!Boom!BOOM!Boom!Evenwithhiswindowsclosedthethuddingandpoundingreverberatedupanddownthestreet.Ourwindowsshookfromit.Whentheelectricguitarscutinwiththeirstep-on-a-cat’s-tailscreech,Iprayedourreplacedwindowswouldn’tshatter.Oh,ifonlyI’dhadagun…

Asweknew,Camillewasmalélevé.Andlikemostthingswild,hewasgrowinglargerandstronger.Theproblemwasthatbecauseofthistotallyundisciplinedboy,ourdeliciouslittleFrenchhideawaywasturningsour.Whatcouldwedo?

ThenextmorningIranintoourneighbor,JacquesThoreau.“Doyou

ThenextmorningIranintoourneighbor,JacquesThoreau.“Doyouhearallthatnoisefromacrossthestreet,morning,noon,andnight?”

“Certainement,”hesaid,shakinghishead.

Jacqueshadtwoyoungdaughtersandason.HeandhiswifeCrystalwerenothappyaboutCamillebeingjustacrossthestreet.

“Whatcanwedo?”ActuallyIfeltabituncomfortablecomplainingaboutnoisypeopleinthestreetafterwhatIhadpulledoffmyself,vis-à-vismybehaviortowardBingandLaurantbythefountainbeforemybikewreck.

“InFrance,processandprocedureareeverything,”hesaid.

“Whataboutsuccessorfailure?”

“Notasimportant,”hestated,surprisingme.“Firstapetition.Allegedoffenses.Partiesinvolved.Proposedresolution.Signatures.Ontothemayor.Investigation.Conclusions.Warning.Documenttofile.Evidenceforpossibleapplicationinthefuture.”

Iwasimpressed.“Howlongwouldallthistake?”

“Nomorethantwoyears,”hestated,rollinghiseyes.

“Sowe’llhavetolistentothatbruitfortwomoreyears?”Iasked,nothappy.

“UnlessIusemy…”hepausedtoconfirmnoonewascloseby,“contacts.Myfriendinthegendarmes.”

“Wow.Thatwouldbeterrific.”

“Heisalieutenant.Withsomeauthority.Heknowshowtotakeaction,makethingshappen.”

“Isee,”thoughIdidn’t.ButIpressedon,“So,ifnormalprocedurescantaketwoyears,howlongwillyourcontact’smethodstake?”

Lookingbackatme,zeroexpressiononhisface,hesaid,“Twodays.”

Lookingbackatme,zeroexpressiononhisface,hesaid,“Twodays.”

“Excellent,”Isaid,“I’llletyouknowwhentostart.”“D’accord.”

THATAFTERNOONIdroppedbythecafétogetClaude’stakeonwhatThoreausaidaboutfilingapetition.

“MonsieurKen,”hesaid,“thatisnottherightwayinasmallvillage.Apetitionistooharsh.Itisimportantforyoutospeakdirectlywiththepersoninvolved.Itispolite.Theotherwayistoomuchlike…Fascism.”

Thatcrackedmeup.IkeptforgettingClaudewastheresidentTrotskyitewhocouldspotFascisminanythingandeverythingcomingoutofthemayor’soffice.ItoldhimIhadalreadyconfrontedCamillebutwouldtalktohimagain.Ididn’tsayanythingaboutthegendarme.

Laterthatevening,yetagainwewerejoltedbytheposseofmotosblastinguprueBasque,jukingandjivingthethrottlesastheyclusteredinfrontofCamille’s.Thisdidn’tdomypieceofmindanygood.MyribsstillhurtwhenIwasn’tcarefulhowItwistedorturned,andmyleftarmachedwhenitwasdamp,sohavingalotofnoiseblastingthroughouropenwindowsatbedtimewasnotwhatIneededatall.

Then…BOOM,BOOM,THUD,THUDDER,BOOM,andtheelectricguitarscreechcrankingupagain!OhGod,whataracket.Thewholestreetwasvibrating,windowsshaking.BOOM,BOOM,THUD,THUD,BOOM,screech,screech,SCREECH!

Iwaspissed.Ipulledonmyslippersandslacksandstormeddownstairs.AsIopenedourdoorintothestreet,anoutsidedooracrossthewayopenedtoo.Ayoungishblondewomanstartedout.WhenIsawtheblondehairandyoungface,IjumpedtotheconclusionitwasCamille’ssister-slash-surrogatemother.

“Bruit,partoutbruit!Pourquoitoutlebruit?”(Noise,everywherenoise!Whysomuchnoise?)Ishoutedather.

Then,standingbehindher,IsawSylvieandMichel,theownersofthegrocery.Ohcrap.Thiswasn’tCamille’ssemi-mom,thiswasthevegetableladyinthemarket.Nowondershelookedsoshocked.Howtoexplain?Merde.AllIcouldcomeupwithwas“Bonsoir,”asIcockedmyheadtowardCamille’sthunderingroom.Then,likeatotalcoward,Ipulledourdoorclosed.

Ifeltterribleallnight.Ihadbeensouglytoverynicepeople,withoutgettingawordouttothekidwhowasmostdeservingofmydisdain.

THENEXTmorningIshuffledintothegrocery,stoodlikeanaughtychildinfrontofSylvieatthecashregister,andrecitedmypreparedapology.Hersweetsmilewasenoughtotellmesheunderstood.Justtomakesure,Iwalkeddownthesideaisletothefruitandveggiesectionandboughtabigshinyredapple,whichImarchedbacktohercounterwithandpressedintoherhand.ShelaughedandlaughedandcalledouttoMichelabout“cesAmericansfous.”(ThesecrazyAmericans.)

Ifeltmuchbetter.

BYNOONofthatdaythesunwasbrightoverheadandtheskyastartlingblue.Claudehadtablesandchairsoutfrontofthecaféwithalargelunchcrowdofholidayproportion.

BingandIwerewalkingdownrueBasqueinthatdirection,settoenjoyourownoutdoorluncheon,whenallofasuddenCamillethrewfullpowertothatmiserable,mind-blastingboxofhis,thistimewithallhiswindowsopen.Thatwasit.AndI’msorrytoadmitit,butIblewmy

stackalloveragain.Icouldn’tholdback;Ihadscorestosettlewiththissadlittleshit.So,thereIwasagain—theravingmadmanofrueBasque!

“Camille,Camille!WhatinthenameofGoddoyouthinkyouaredoingwiththathorriblenoise?Tuesmalélevé,trèstrèsmalélevé!Youaredestroyingthetranquilityofourstreet.YouaredestroyingthetranquilityofBlackMountain.OurneighborsarepreparingapetitiontothemayoraboutyournoiseandyourlackofrespectforeverycitizenofBlackMountain…”

Iwentonandonuntilfinallythelittletwerpappearedatthewindow.

“Whatistheproblem?”heasked,theheightofinnocence.Ofcoursehehadtorepeatthequestionseveraltimesbecausetheracketwassooverpowering.Finallyitoccurredtohimtoturnthevolumedown.

“Theproblemisthenoise.Youandthenoise.Everywhereyougothereisnoise.Yourmoto.Yourcassette.Yourstereo.Allnoise,”Ishouted,verynoisilymyself.

“Maismonsieur,”heoffered,asiftalkingtoatotalmoron,“thatisnotnoise,thatismusic.”

“Music,littleboy,”Ibellowedback,“ismusicwhenthevolumeisatacivilizedlevel.Whenthevolumegetstoyourlevel,itisnolongermusic.Itisnoise,racket,bruit,insultingtothecommunity.Itmuststop!Ifnot,thepetitionwillbepresentedtothemayorandareportwillbemadetolesgendarmes.Forsure,youngman,lesgendarmes!”

Actuallyshaking,IturnedtotakeBing’shand,wonderingifshe’dstormoffagaininprotestofmyoutburst.OhLord,damnedifyoudo…

Shetookmyhandandsqueezedittight.NomoreRiverStyxbetween

us.Andthen,asweturnedthecorneratClaude’s…awhoopwentupfromthetablesontheterrace.Holycow.IwasgettingastandingOandchantsof“Bravo!Bravo!Bravo!”

Claudemarchedustoatable,andaswesatdown,feelingembarrassed,Sophiestrodeupwithachilledbottleofchampagneandfourglasses.Apparentlythistime,atleast,I’dbeenuglyandawfulforagoodcause.

AsIliftedmyglasstothewholecafé,IcaughtsightofourneighborJacques,byhiscar,raisinghisportabletohisear.Henoddedmyway.

THENEXTmorning,idlingattheentrancetorueBasquewasahugebluehumvee-likegendarmevehicle.Itsquattedtherethroughthemorning,thentheafternoon,anddidn’tleaveuntilsunset.ThefirstthingCamillesawwhenhelefthisdoorthatmorningwasthemonsteridlingthere,completewithadarkpresencestudyinghimfrominside.Whenhearrivedhomelater,thedriver’s-sidewindowsliddownandhewasbeckonedover.Fromourwindow,allwecouldseehimdoingwasnodding,firstslowlythenfasterandfaster.ThiswholescenariomusthavebeenaproductofJacques’contacts.Wow.Mostimpressiveindeed.

Camillegotthemessage.ThefollowingmorninghepushedthebikeallthewaydownrueBasquetotheintersectionbeforestartingit.AndwhenhecamebackintheeveninghecuttheengineinfrontofClaude’s,coastingquietlyuptohisdoor.Nomoreloudbuddiesorhorribleblastsoftheboomboxeither.Theyoungdragonhadbeenslain.

OnasunnySaturdaymorningtwoweekslater,avanwithtrailerattachedpulledupandparkedacrossthestreet.Camille,hissister,hisfriends,andacoupleofswarthymencarriedtheirstuffoutthefrontdoor.Oncetheyloadeditall,theyhittheroadtoplacesunknown.

door.Oncetheyloadeditall,theyhittheroadtoplacesunknown.

Watchingthewholebunchgo,IsaidtoBing,“Youknow,maybethesituationwillbeaheads-upforCamille,hisyoungsidekicktoo.Maybehe’llthinkalittlemoreaboutworkingasamason.Whoknows,somedayhemightcomebacktotalktoLaurantorJacquesnextdoor.”

“Whoknows?”shesaid.“ButIdoubtit.

OVERTHEweekthatfollowed,itseemedthemoodonrueBasquebrightened.FrançoisandCarolineatthepatisseriecongratulatedusonourcoup.SylvieandMichelsmiledmorethanusualwhenwewereattheirgroceryshopping.TheyownedthebuildingCamille’sapartmentwasin,too.BadrentersareFrance’simmovablecurse.Myattackhadrelievedthemofthatproblemdowntheroad.TheyevenpresenteduswithabottleoffineMedoc.AndMichelatLaBrasseriesaidheadmiredthewaywehaddealthead-onwiththesituation.

“TrèsAmerican,”hesaid.“Vousêtesvraicowboy.WeFrenchwouldneverdosuchathing.Wewouldditherandchatter,butnevertakeaction.Wetalkourproblemstodeathorjustletthemdieofoldage.Absurd,totallyabsurd.”

THIRTY-ONEDIFFERENTFOLKS

WORKATthehousewentonaroll.Finally.WithJean-Jacquesoutofthepictureandmyfountain-sideexplosionathingofthepast,LaurantnowseemedtotallyfocusedonturningChâteauPoubelleintoChâteauNous.(TrashcanCastleintoOurLittleCastle.)

Appliancesrolledin,allofwhichhadbeenorderedhalf-sized—fridge,freezer,washer,dryer,oven—specificallytofitunderthecounterIwouldbuildagainstthekitchen-sidewallofthebigroom.Yes,Iwouldbuildit.Myarmandribsfeltready.Iwasbackinshape,enforme.Timetokickbutt.

ThestorewherewegotalotofourstuffwasnamedFly.Anexcellentoutfit.Thesupervisor,ayoungfellownamedJean-Luc,madeitthatway.Despitethefactwe’doftencausedproblems—changingordersatthelastminute,havingfurnituredeliveredwhenwe’dthoughtthehouse

wouldbedonebutwasn’tandthenhadtoberefused—heneverhowled.Atruegentleman.

Ontheotherhand,therewereotherstoresnotsoaimable.TheelectricfixturecompanyLumière,nearFly,whichImentionedearlier,wasadifferentballgamealtogether.Thoughcharmingwhenwefirstboughtsomelampsandtracklightsthere,theinstantwetriedtoreturnjustonepurchase(provendefective),theywentnasty.Thefollowingisacompilationofthingstheysaidtouswithoutaflinch,oneaccusationafteranother—

“Thelightwasfinewhenitleftthestore.”

“Youbrokethelightwhenyouinstalleditinyourhome.”

“Yourelectriciandidnotinstallthelightproperlyandcausedthemalfunction.”

“Yourelectricianwiredyourhomeimproperly.”

“Wehaveneverhadaproblemwiththatmodellight.”

“Thatwastheonlyoneofthatmodelweeverhad.”

“Thelightcannotbesentbackforexchangebecausethemodelisterminated.”

“Evenifthemodelwasstillproduced,themanufacturerisoutofbusiness.”

“Wearenotresponsibleforfaultyequipmentwesell.”

“Youdonotunderstandhowoursystemworks.”

“Youarewrong.”

“Youareforeigners.”

Ikidyounot.Andthatattitudewascompany-wide.Thesalesperson,supervisor,andmanagerallrecitedthesamemantra.Butitworked.Theyworeusdown,notmakinggoodonanything.Thoughwenever

Theyworeusdown,notmakinggoodonanything.Thoughwenevertradedwiththemagain.

THECOUNTERTOPIintendedtobuildwastobeconstructedwiththreefifteen-inch-wide,three-inch-thick,thirty-five-foot-longplanks.Thesewouldbegluedandboltedtogether,thenmountedonpostswithcross-membersallsixinchessquare.Attheinteriorendofthiscountertop,buttinguptothewallformedbythestairway,itwouldturntheninety-degreecornerwithamountedstovetop.We’dcontinuethecounteracrossthebackwallwithasinkanddrainboardmountedonit,shelvesunderneath.

LaurantdirectedmetoalumbermillontheoutskirtsofBlackMountainforthewood.Hecalledthemanager,whosaidhecouldfilltheorder.Laurantsaidhewouldsendmerightover.HedescribedmeasalinguisticallychallengedAmericanwhowas,nevertheless,reasonablycapable.Thierrywasthemantosee.

Enteringthemilloffice,IexplainedIwastheretoseeThierry.Theattractivereceptionistnodded,thenaskedmesomethinginaveryrapid,clippedfashion.Assometimeshappened,Ihadalinguisticrelapse.Thesehappen,fromtimetotime,whenyourmindisgoingamileaminutetranslating.Itjustrunsoutofsteam.So,shewaitedformyreply,didn’tgetone,thenbuzzedThierry.Wesmiledateachother.Hersmilewassparkly;minewasmoreofthefoolish,embarrassedvariety.

Thierrywalkedin.Wow.Hewasprobablyinhislatethirties,mediumheight,veryhandsome,withlongsandyblondhairinaPrinceValiantcut.ThehusbandsandfathersofBlackMountainwouldbewisetoputabellaroundthisguy’snecksotheywouldknowwhenhewasinthearea

andcouldlockuptheirwivesanddaughters.Heturnedouttobeagreatguy.Hewentoutofhisway,troopingmearoundtheyard,showingwhattheyhad.Besidesbeingaconfirmedladykiller,Ilearnedhealsoplayedtheguitar,roadmountainbikes,skied,hiked,climbed…ohman,suddenlyitoccurredtome,couldhehavebeentheloverboywiththehikergaluponLaMontagneNoirewhenwewerefirsthere?

Whilewewerepullingplanksoutofastacktogether,wetalkedaboutthedifferencesinoursystems.HewasatotallyconfirmedSocialistandgentlyexpressedhisfeelingthatthewayAmericanschasedmoneywasinsane.Heagreedthat,relativelyspeaking,Americanshadalotmoreofit,butaddedthattheFrenchdidn’tneedsomuchbecausethesystemtookcareoftheirneeds.Iagreed,butIcamebackwiththepointthattwo-hourlunchesandinnumerableholidaysplussix-weekvacationsassuredthatlittlegotdoneinFrance.

Hisanswer:“Sowhat?”

Aftercarefuldeliberation,ThierryandIchosethreesuperbplanksandcarriedthemtothemillingmachine.Theywerehoney-coloredashthatwouldsandtoasweetrusticfinish.Laurant’struckwouldcollectthemafterlunch.So,afewminutesbeforenoon,westartedthebigrotarysaw,usingitsextendedrollerfeedtoslidethefirstplankthroughthewhirlingblade,trimmingoneedge,rollingitover,andrepeatingtheprocessontheotherside.Butthen,withthesecondplankhalfwaythroughitsfirstrun,thenoonwhistleblew.Everything,Imeaneverything,stoppeddead.Allpowerthroughouttheplantquit,andinaflasheveryworkerwasoutthedoortoacarorontoabicycle.Gettinghomeforthosetwohoursoffoodandfamilywasparamount,totally.

IlookedatThierry.Hewinkedbackatme,holdingupwhatIguessedwasamasterkey.Hewalkedtothepowerpanelbyhisofficedoor.

wasamasterkey.Hewalkedtothepowerpanelbyhisofficedoor.Speakingoverhisshoulder,heexplainedthattheunions,withthesupportofthegovernment,settheplant’scentralpowergridtodisengageatexactlytwelvenoon.Noone,excepttheplantmanager,canrestartthesystem.

Therestofthejobtookonlyafewminutes.ThenwecarriedthelongpiecesouttotheloadingdockforNuméroUntopickupafterlunch.I’dcarrytheshorterpieceshomeinourcarnow.

Freeatlast,ThierryjumpedinhishotredPorscheandblewgraveloutofthelotasanappropriateaurevoir.Iwavedandlaughed,shakingmyhead.Hewasaheckofaniceguywitharealhandleonlife,orshouldIsayontheartofFrenchliving.

BEFORETHElongpiecesarrivedatChâteauPoubelle,Istartedassemblingthesix-inchpostsandcross-memberstheplankswouldreston.Myarmfeltokay.Notverystrong,butserviceable.Actually,Iwaslookingforwardtothis.UnliketheotherworkBingandIhaddoneontheplace,thiswasgoingtobeourcreationfromthebottomup.

WhileIwasspecingoutthejobahead,AntoineandPlacoDeuxwerecompletingtheplasterworkonthefireplacethatheandBinghaddesigned.ThiswasontheoppositestonewallofthebigroomfromwhereIwasworking.TohelphimgetdoneI’dlenthimmynewLeatherman,recentlyarrivedbyFedEx.UnlikeAnton,whogaveawaytheLeathermanI’dgivenhim,Placolovedthattool.Hewasinhogheavenwithit.

Ourplan,actuallymoreBing’sthanmine,forthecountertop(planche)wastoconstructitataheightsothatallthehalf-sizeunits

wouldfitunderneath.Startingatthestreetendofthewall,Bingdiagramedastorageareaforsoapsandpails,brushesandsuch.Thenextspacebetweenthesupportpostswouldholdadrierwiththewasherbesideit.Thethirdslotwouldhaveahalf-sizefreezernexttoamatchingrefrigerator.Thelastspacewouldholdtheoven,withthecorner-mountedcookingsurfaceabove.Thesamethemewouldcontinuearoundthecornerforthesinkanddrainboard,withshelvesunderthose.

Bingcameupwiththeideaofcoveringthefrontsoftheapplianceswithhalfcurtainsthatwouldslideonawiremountedunderthecounterlip.Dominique,whowashelpingwithcleanup,knewaseamstresswhodidcostumesforthetheatreinToulouse.Sheagreedtodothestitching.Whenfinished,wewouldhaveaneasy-to-work-inkitchen,modernlyequipped,butstillreflectingthemedievalmotif.

Everythingwasfallingnicelyinplace,atleastuntilthewaterheaterprovedinadequatetohandleashowerandfillabathtubatthesametime.Panic.

Theentiredesignofthekitchenwouldbethreatenedifwehadtoputaconventionalwaterheaterinthesystem.We’dhavetoreconsidertheniftylittlepowderroomandwinecavewe’dshoe-hornedunderthefirstfloorstairway;possiblyhavetoripthemout.Thesnowballeffectofthisonemistakecouldbeawesome.

WhenwefirstspecedthejobwithNigelCork,M.RogetattheplumbingsupplyplaceinRevelhaddonethecalculationsaddressingcapacities.He’dfiguredwecouldgetawaywiththissmall,quick-firedunitwe’dmountedonthefrontwallabovethecounter.Butnowitwasn’tdoingthejob.MemoriesofourwarwithLumièreElectricgavemeknotsinmystomach.

So,headingbacktoRoget’sthenextmorning,Iwasconflicted.Inonesensewehadnorighttotrytobringthethingback.We’dbeenusingitforminorhotwaterneedsforamonthormore.Theproblemnowwasthatitdidn’tdowhatRogetassuredusitwould.Couldmylanguagehavebeentheproblem?IkeptthinkinghowRogetrepeated,“Vouscommandez?Vouscommandez?”Theverb“tocommand”alwayssoundedmorepowerfulthan“toorder.”HadIpushedhimintosomethingheknewwasn’tright?

Iploddedintohisshop.M.Roget,theeternalcigarettedanglingfromhismouth,bouncedaroundthecountertotakemyhandafterI’dmumbledmyBonjourtothoseassembled.ThenIstumbledthroughmypreparedexplanationofthesituation.

“Notenoughhotwaterforthebathtubwiththeshowerrunningtoo.”

“No,no,no.”

“Yes,yes,yes.”

“Amomentplease.”

Rogetspedbacktoastackofmanualsontheshelfbelowhistelephoneandcameupwithadog-earedcataloguefromthechauffe-eaumanufacturer.Flippingthroughthepages,lightinganothercigarette,heplowedalong,confidenttheequipmenthe’dsoldhisAmericanfriendswasuptothejobasI’ddescribedit.Andthere,Ifeared,wastheescapeclause—“asI’ddescribedit.”SincetheplumbingpartoftherestorationhadcomeearlyonwithNigelCorkandcompany,myabilitiesfordiscussinganythingbackthenhadbeenverylimited.IsuspectedI’dinnocentlygivenRogetsomeverygarbledintel.

Jottingdownabluroffigures,thenflippingtothebathtubcatalogue,herananotherset,squintinghardatthelot.Thenhelookedupand

herananotherset,squintinghardatthelot.Thenhelookedupandsaid,“Wecloseatfive.Iwillbeatyourhousebeforefivethirty.Theunitisadequateforyourrequirements.Somethingiswrong.Iwillfindwhatitis.”

M.Rogetactuallydidarriveonschedule.Andhesurveyed,calculated,pondered,smoked,measured,marchedupanddownthestairs,measuredsomemore,calculatedsomemore,thenannounced,“Mesamis,Ioweyouanapology.Allyourproblemsaremine,notyours.Mycalculationswerewrong.OriginallyIhadnotcomeheretoinspecttheinstallation.Ididnotconsiderthelongrunsofpipeonthisfloorandthenuptotheotherfloors.Thesecountascapacitytobefed.TheunitIsoldyouwasadequateiftheinstallationwasmorecompact.Itismymistake.SoIwillgiveyoufullcreditfortheunit.Iwillsupplyyou,atmycost,anon-demandsystemthatmountsevenmorecompactly,willbemoreefficient,andhasgreatercapacity.Iwillpaythelaborcostsforyouradditionalplumbingrequirements.Willthatbeadequate?”

Holycow!Icouldhavekissedhisring,thetopofhishead,hisfeet,whatever.ViveleRoget!VivelaFrance!(Sud-ouest.)

ThenextmorningwewereabletogetChristophein,andtogetherheandItookdowntheoldunit,loadeditintohistruck,andzippedbacktoRoget’s,wherehemadegoodonhispromises.ChristopheinstalledthenewheaterthenextdayasIcontinuedworkontheplanche.Bytheendoftheweek,ourgreatgroaning-boardcountertopwasinplace,alongwithshelvesabove,mini-appliancesbelow,cookeratthecorner,andthesinktuckedalongthestairwaywall…withbeaucouphotwatereverywhere.

Wehadakitchenatlast!Andagreatroom(ofsmalldimension).Andwehadahouse.ChâteauPoubellehadfinallybecomeChezNous.(Our

wehadahouse.ChâteauPoubellehadfinallybecomeChezNous.(Ourhouse.)

THIRTY-TWOMADAME’SNIGHTS

ASWEdiscoveredonourfirstvisittoMadameFontaine’shouse,ChezFontaineistheFrenchhouseweAmericansalldreamabout.Thetinycobbledmews,thefaçadeofstonewithred,yellow,andwhiterosesclimbingtowardthestatelyabbeytowerabove,it’sallthere.It’salwaysbreathtaking,butespeciallyasthesettingsunturnsittogold.

Edwige,withwhomwetradedEnglishlessonsforFrench,wasbecominganincreasinglyessentialfriend.HavingherwithusatMadameFontaine’smadethingsmucheasier.ShefilledintheblanksweotherwisewouldhavehadintherichlongtalesMadamelovedtotell.Edwigewouldwhisperclarificationswhenshesawourbrowsfurrow,andfileawayothergemstoexplaintouslateraswell.

Assemblinginthefoyeronenoon,BingpresentedMadameFontainewithapenandinkstill-lifeshe’ddoneduringourfirststayinBlackMountain.Madamestudieditforatleastaminute.Herfacelitupand

hereyessparkedasshepronounced,“Bing,ohBing,youtrulyareatalentedartist.Mycompatriotforthefutureperhaps?Iwouldbeverypleasedifwecouldpainttogetherinmystudioherefromtimetotime.”

“MadameFontaine—”Bingbegan,butwasimmediatelyinterrupted.

“Please,IwantyoutocallmeHéllé.Madameisfartooformalforafriend.”

“Mad…Héllé,thankyou,”Bingstammered.“Iamhonored,andyes,itwouldbewonderfultoworkwithyou.PerhapswecouldgototheCanalduMidisometime.WecouldvisitourfriendAdrianonhisbargeandsketchfromthere.”

“Yes,mydear,wemust.”Héllésmiled,extendingahandtoguideustowardhersalon.“Inolongerdrive.Iwouldlookforwardtogettingout.Butfornow,desaperitifs.”

FromourlastmealwithHéllé,weknewtoexpectanywherefromthreetofivecourses.Andourreadingsonprovincialetiquettetoldusthatdespitethethreeormorehoursattable,bathroombreakswerefrownedon.ItwasaLouisXIVthing.Onehadtoarriveprepared.

AfterPortoandMuscat,wemovedtothediningroom.Asbefore,MadameFontaine,withouthelp,handledthewholeaffaireffortlessly.Andrefusedtoletanyofusassist.Shestartedwithasaumonfumé.Platesoneandtworemoved.Thenatricolorsaladwithanincredibleoil,garlic,vinegar,andspicedressingarrivedonthereturnofplatetwo.Theprocesscontinuedthroughagigotoflamb,surroundedbyverythinharicotsvertsandtinyroastedpotatoes.Anotherplateremoved.HerpresentationofcheesesboastedeverythingfromAuvergnethroughCamembert,chèvre,andbrèbis,leavingoneplatetogofordesert.Ichose

thetartedepommewhileBing,Edwige,andourhostessenjoyedarichchocolatemousse.Coffeeandaselectionofdigestifsconcludedthemeal.

Throughoutallthis,Hélléheldforthasaraconteuseextraordinaire.Onlywhenshewasbusyinthekitchendidsheleavetheconversationaldutiestoanyoneelse.Andsincetherewerethreewomenpresent,thefocuswasnotonfootball,rugby,orformulaoneracing,butonwhatitwasliketobeayoungwomanseventy-fiveyearsagoinruralFrance.

“Edwige,didyouknowanythingofmenbeforeyoumarried?Imeanphysically,”Hélléasked,placingdemitassesofblack,teeth-etchingcoffeeinfrontofeachofus.

“Well,yes,”Edwigenodded.“Myparentswereprogressives.”

“Bing?”

“Mymotherdidn’ttellmeanything.Myfirstmenstruationwasahugesurprise.Arealshock.FortunatelyIhadoldersisters.TheygavemetheinformationaboutmybodyIneededforhealth,andlater,forlove,”Bingsaid,withagentletiltofherheadandaglancetowardme.

MadameFontainewarmedtothat,saying,“ButIhadnooldersisters.AllIknewofsexualrelationswaswhatIhadseenwithdogsonthestreetandhorsesinourpasture.”

Edwigeloweredhereyesandshookherhead.Bingshrugged.Istudiedmycoffeecup.

“Horseswerehardtoignore.Evenforayoungvillagegirl,”Hélléexpanded.“Ifounditinterestinghowourstallionmountedandrammedhome,sotospeak.Thenjusthungon.”

ShepausedandlookedatmeasifImighthavesomethingspecifictoadd.Iwasataloss.

“Thedogshadmoreenergyandsenseoftheatre.Theyseemedmostinterestedindoingsuchthingswhenfamilyphotoswerebeingtaken,orwhenthepriestdroppedby,”sheadded.“Motherwouldthrowwateronthem.Noneofwhichhelpedmeonmyweddingnight.”

Whyme,Lord?

ThankfullyBingsaid,“Really?”

Héllé’seyesmovedtoher.Ifeltrelieved.Theroomseemedverywarm.

“Really,”sherepeatedwithsomeemphasisasshebegananotherofherextraordinarystories.“MyfatherhadfeltJean-Phillipwouldbeperfectforme.Hewasfromafamilyofsubstance.Hewaspreparingforacareerinaviation,navalaviation,”shepaused,momentarilyglancingatme,knowingIhadbeenanAmericannavalaviator.

“Iwasnotagainstthematch.Ihadbeenraisedtoexpectit.IwasconfidentamansohandsomeasJean-Phillipwouldbeeasytolove.Theweddingwasgrand.AllBlackMountainpresent.ItwasasifwewereasymbolofthenewFrancegrowingfromthetrenchesoftheFirstWorldWar.Germanywasathreat,butGermanyhadalwaysbeenathreat.Webelievedourfuturewasbright.”

Reachingforhercoffeepotandrefillingourtinycups,sheexpandedonherspecialnight.

“Iknewlove-makinginvolvedkissing.IhadneverkissedasJean-Phillipwishedtokiss,however.”Smiling,pausing,andlookingintentlyatme,itwasalongmomentbeforeshecontinued.

“Andwhenhewaskissingthatway,hewasbreathingintomyear—‘Macherie.Macherie.Oh,macherie.’Whymustmendothat?Atimeor

twoisendearing,butoverandover.Itwasdeafening.MonDieu.Thenheswitchedto‘Oui,oui,oui!’andhishandswereeverywhere.I’dhadnopreparationforanyofthis…beyondwatchingthehorsesanddogs.AllIcouldthinkofwasmymotherthrowingwateronthem…so,whenJean-Phillipdidhisownplunge,Ishouted,‘Whatareyoudoing?Whatareyoudoing?’whileallthetimeIwasthinking,‘Throwthewatermama!’Well,thatputmeintohysterics!HerewasJean-Phillippuffingandgaspingandwigglingso,whileIwaslaughingsohardtearswerestreamingdownmycheeks!

“ThenextthingIknew…everythingstopped.AndthelookonJean-Phillip’sfacewasoneoftotalshock.Quicklyhe’dbecomeafractionofthemanhehadfirstbeen.That,Iconfess,onlyputmefurtherintohysterics.Iknewsolittleaboutthemale…thing,yousee.

“Theremainderofourhoneymoondidnotgowell,”sheaddedpensively.“PoorJean-Phillip.Woewashe.WhichledtoChantal,Ibelievehisfirstmistress,andwhoknowshowmanymore.”

“Butyouhadseveralchildren,”Edwigesaidencouragingly.

“Idid,didn’tI?”MadameFontainesaid.Aslightsmileplayedonherlips.

“Extraordinary,”Bingconcluded.

“Lifecanbeverycomplicatedattimes,”MadameFontaineagreed.“ThinkofhowmucheasierthoseyearswouldhavebeenhadIcriedratherthanlaughed?Andyetwestrivetoshutoutourtearsandencouragelaughter.SometimesGodgivesuswhatweaskfor…thenwherearewe?”

Hélléstartedgatheringupourcupsandsaucers.Thistime,however,sheletBingandEdwigehelp.

sheletBingandEdwigehelp.

AFTEROURgoodbyestoMadameFontaineandEdwige,BingandIstrolledbacktonumber9.Alongthewaywemarveledatthisincrediblewoman.Bornearlyinthecentury,shegrewupinandweatheredtwoworldwars,playedalife-and-deathrolewiththeResistance.Createdworksofart.Wrote,taughtandlecturedfromParistoBordeaux,alloverFranceforthatmatter,andstillshecarriedonlivinglifetothefullest,alwayswithatwinkleinhereye.

“DidyounoticethewayHéllérespondedtoEdwigewhensheasked,‘Butyouhadseveralchildren?’ItwasalmostaquestionofSoyourmaritalaffairshadbrokendownfromthestart,butyoustillhadseveralchildren?”Isaid,smilingasIturnedtowardBing.

“AndHéllé’sanswer,afterapause,”Bingsaid,“wassocryptic.‘Idid,didn’tI.’Itbegsforsomuchmore.”

“WhichI’msurewewillgetintime.”

“Ihope.”

“Iknow,”Isaid,“whichwillprobablymakeitswayintomynextnovel.Bytheway,love,whileyouwereoutwalkingthismorning,IsentWhenEaglesFalltoVernoninL.A.FedExedit.”

“OhKenny,that’swonderful.Iamsoproudofyou.Congratulations,”shesaid,huggingagainstmygoodarm.

“Ifithadn’tbeenforthewreck,I’dneverwouldhavegottenittohimbeforefall.HopefullyVernonwillgiveittohiscontact,thebigguyatDreamWorks,beforehegoesonvacation.Maybehe’lltakeitwithhimforareadwhilehe’schillingout,orwhateverHollywoodpeopledo.ComeSeptember,whenwe’rebackhome,whoknows,wecouldgetaphonecall.”

phonecall.”

“Andamoviecontract.”

“Withmytrackrecord,theendoftheworldwouldcomefirst,”Isaid,lookingdown,kickingastoneandshakingmyhead.

“We’llsee…”

THIRTY-THREELACRÉMAILLÈRE

FORSOMEtimewehadbeenintheprocessofgettingfixed-linetelephonesintorueBasquebecauseourcellphonebillsweregettingoutofsight.Wewouldneedthreephones.Thefirstinthemainroom;thesecondinmyofficeinthebackbuilding;andthethird,awalk-aroundtypewhichwoulddivideitstimebetweenBing’sstudioonthethirdfloorandourbedroomonthesecond.

HavinglivedoutsidetheU.S.inthepast,webothknewphoneinstallationscouldbedifficult.Becausewetotallyrewiredtheplace,wewantedthephoneinstallerstocoordinatewithChristophe.Thoughthatmadesense,wediscoveredthatwhatmadesensetouswasn’tnecessarilyhowFrenchTelecomranitsbusiness.

Theirregionalofficeisabouttwentykilometersaway,inCastres.Ourfirstventuretherehadusonedge.Officesituationsarelinguistically

challenging.Thoughwehadpreparedwhatwewouldsay,itwasabitdisconcertingtoseefromthoseaheadofusthatwewouldbeseatedinfrontofanagent,oneonone.Whenournumbercameup,wemarchedbravelytothedesignateddesk,whereapleasantlysmilingmiddle-agedladyrosetoshakeourhands.

“BonjourMadame,”BingandIopenedinunison.

“BonjourMonsieuretMadame,”sherepliedcrisply.

“S’ilvousplaît,”Ibeganasusual.“Parlez-vousAnglais?Non.Alors,thenpleaseexcuseourpoorFrench.Perhapsyoucanbeourteachertoday?WecandobusinessandimproveourFrenchatthesametime.”

“Biensûr,”sheaffirmed.Wewereofftoagoodstart.

Bingtookoveratthatpoint,womantowoman,explainingourneeds—numberofphonesandcolors.Sheaddedthebusinessaboutcoordinatingwithourelectriciantoo.

Theniceladyunderstoodandpresenteduswithabrochuredisplayingasolde(sale)theywererunningthatwouldgiveusthreewalk-aroundphonesforthepriceofone.Anycolorwewanted,seventochoosefrom.Excellent.Shesignedusup.Wewerereallysurprisedtheprocesshadbeensoeasy,despiteourearlytrepidations.

Thencamethefirstshadowsofdarkness.Checkingwiththestockroom,thewomanfoundtheonlycolortheyhadwasshockingpink.Wedeclinedbutwereassured,pasdeproblème,othersweredue.Aweekorsowaitwasnobigdeal.Wewroteacheck,shookhands,smiled,anddeparted,congratulatingourselvesandpraisingFrenchefficiency.

ThefollowingSaturdaymorning,justbeforeRichandAnn’sarrival,theinstallationmancametothehouse.Weaskedifhealsohadourphones?Hesaidno.TheywouldbecomingintotheofficeinCastres,

phones?Hesaidno.TheywouldbecomingintotheofficeinCastres,buthewasn’tsurewhen.Hepromisedtopassonourinquiryandwewouldbecontacted.Allwellandgood.Againnoproblem.

Wedidn’tthinkagainabouttelephonesuntilourfriendsweregone.ThoughwereceivednoletterfromFranceTelecom,wedidgetourfirstbill.Aweekormoreafterthatwestoppedattheirofficebutarrivedjustasthedoorsclosed.Sorry.Comebacktomorrow.Whichwecouldn’tdobutdidthedayafter,onlytodiscovertheywereclosedbecauseofsomenewholiday.Thenexttimewetried,theyhadnoafternoonhours,liketheschoolsonWednesdays.Roughlyamonthlater,justastheyweretryingtoslamthedoorinourfacesatoneminutetofive,Ijammedmyfootinandgotusinside.

Thesamewomanwasatherdesk.Sheaskedhowshecouldhelp.Isaidwehadcomeforourtelephones.Shewentintoherfileandadvisedthattheorderhadbeencancelledandthephonesreturnedtothewarehouse.Ontopofthat,sincethesalewasnowover,anyneworderwouldbeatregularprices.

Shesmiled.Ididnotsmile.Bingdidnotsmile.

“Why,Madame,werewenotnotifiedwhenourphonesarrived?”Iasked.

“Sir,”sherespondedwithabitofanedgetohervoice,“Itelephonedyournumbermany,manytimes.Youneveranswered.IassumedyouhadreturnedtotheUnitedStates.Ihadnochoicebuttocanceltheorder.”

IlookedatBing.Shelookedatme.SensingIdidn’thaveachanceofpenetratingthiswoman’slogic,IliftedaneyebrowforBingtotryherluck.

“Hmm,”Bingbegan,smilingatthenicelady.“Wecanexplainwhy

“Hmm,”Bingbegan,smilingatthenicelady.“Wecanexplainwhywedidnotanswerwhenyoucalled.”

“Yes,pleasedo.Atthetimeitwasamysterytome.”

“Yousee,Madame,wehadnotelephones,sotherewasnobellringingoranything…toanswerwith…eveniftherewasabell,”Bingexplained,puffingacheekandshrugginghershoulders.

“Youshouldhaveboughtaphonetogetmycall.”Theexpressiononherfacesaid:foreignersingeneral,butAmericansinparticular,canberatherdensesometimes.“Weboughtthreephones…fromyou,butyoudidnotgetthemtous,”Isaid.

“Sir,Ijustexplainedyourmistake.YoushouldhaveboughtafourthphoneatashopsomewheresoIcouldspeaktoyou.”Nowshewasgettingdistinctlyhuffy.

“Whydidn’tyousendaletter?”Bingasked.

“TheFrenchpostalsystemisthebestintheworld,”Ithrewin.“Yourofficesentusourfirstbillandbrochuresviathepostalservice.”

“Thatisnotmyprocedure,”shesaidflatly,closingtheissue.

“Madame,s’ilvousplaît,”Ibeganagain,tryingtosoundasreasonableasIcould,“letmeproposeyoutalktoyourpatron.Explaintheproblemwecausedandaskforauthoritytogiveusthreephonesfromstock,anycolor,atouroriginalsoldeprice.”Iraisedmyeyebrows,puffedmycheeks,andblewoutwhilecockingmyheadasIsaidthis.VeryFrench,Ithought.

Shespoketohersupervisor,whostudiedussuspiciouslyfromhisdeskacrosstheroom.Hetoofurrowedhisbrow,puffedhischeeks,andfiredoffafewfrustratedairpuffsofhisown.Butyes!Hedidagree.

Wewalkedoutoftheplacewithphones—onepink,oneblue,andone

black—hand-me-downs,butatthesaleprice.Sowithtelephones,thejobofinvitingpeopletothehousewarmingwewereplanning,whichtheFrenchrefertoasunecrémaillère,wouldbemucheasier.

HavingreadthenovelChocolat,IknewourpendantdelacrémaillèrehadtobeagrandfinaletoourBlackMountainbeginnings.

Bingwasexcited.“Kennywe’vegottomakeitspecialforthepeopleofBlackMountain.AsAmericans,foreigners,we’vegottosaythankyoutoeverybodyforthesupportthey’vegivenus.I’vebeenmakingalist.Let’sinvitetheRigalesfromthefarm.LaurantdeGaillacandhisfamily,andhiswholecrew.RogetandBernardfortheirplumbinghelp,andChristophe,allthevillageshoppeople,everyonefromLaBrasserieandthecafé.Everybodywhowalkedbyandofferedustheirboncourages.Thatmeansmostofthevillage…fromthestreetsweeper,M.Propre,tothemayor!Whynot?”

Shakingmyheadandsmiling,allIcouldsaywas,“IloveyouBing.”

WENEEDEDinvitations.Wefiguredwe’dwritethekindofinvitationapairoffriendlyAmericanswould,thenjustputitintoFrench.Right.Whocoulddothetranslation?TrakyawasTurkish,no.Anton,Austrian,no.Andjustthen,Doe,orDominique,thewomanwhohelpedusclean,walkedin.ShewasfromCasablanca.Closeenough.Wecameupwithasimple“Comejoinincelebratingourfinishingtherestorationofnumber9rueBasque.”ItwastobeSaturday,twoweeksoff,startingatsevenPM.Peoplecouldcomealoneorwiththeirfamilies.Allweaskedwasthattheycome.Composingthisonmylaptop,weranitthroughourprinter,crankingoutahundredcopies.Westuffedtheminpeoples’mailslots,postedthemtotheout-of-towners,orgavethemdirectlytowhomever

wesawalongtheway.

WhenIgaveClaudeandSophietheirsatthecafé,Claudeimmediatelyasked,“WhohelpedwiththeFrench?”

“Doe,”Isaid.

“SheisfromCasablanca,”hesaid.

“Iguess,”Isaid.

“Itshows,”hesaid.

“How?”Iaskedalittlenervously.

“Pasgrave,”hesaid.

“Ifitisnotimportant,whydidyoubringitup?”Iquestioned,puffingacheekandliftinganeyebrow.

“Youshouldknow,”herepliedcryptically.

“Ishouldknowwhat?”Ipushed,shouldersgoingupandhandsout.

“Encorepasgrave,”hesaid,andstarteddownthebar,leavingmenonplussed.

Thenhestopped,turnedandtookthefewstepsbacktome.Therewasnooneelseatthebar.LoweringhisheadandhisvoiceanotchClaudesaid,“Your…SecretAgent.”

“Whatdoyoumean?”Iasked,honestlyconfused.

“Hewillnotbeatyourparty,”hesaid.“Heis,asyousay,otherwiseengaged.”

“Meaning?”

Claudesmiled,“YouAmericansaresonaive.”

“What’sthatsupposedtomean,”Iaskedgettingalittleedgy.

“Youshouldhaveknownasweallknewabouthim.”

“Knownwhat?”Isnappedwithgrowingfrustration.

“Knownwhat?”Isnappedwithgrowingfrustration.

“Thatyourfriendis…adrugdealer.”

Mymouthdroppedopen.“You’rekidding.”

“Younevernoticedthatnoonespenttimewithhim?Forusitwaslikeacontract,”hewenton.“Aslongashedealtoutsidethevillage,liveandletlive.Oncehedidbusinesswithanyofourpeople…poof,he’dbegone.”

“Ican’tbelieveit.Heisverystrange,butaniceenoughfellow.”

“Hethoughthecouldhookyou.Butifhehad,sinceyouareoneofusnow,hewouldhavegonepoof.”

“Hassomethinghappened?”

“HegottoCamilleacrossthestreet,afterhelefttown.Thatwastooclose.”

“Sohe’s…”

“Poofed.Goestotrialnextweek.”

“Wow…”

“Exactly.”

Whateverwe’ddonewrongstylisticallywiththewritteninvitationswasnothingcomparedtowhatIdidverbally.AsourFrenchhadprogressed,I’dtriedputtinghintsofthelocalaccentintomine.Agesbefore,whenI’dlivedforacoupleofyearsinBerlinandpickedupsomeofthatlanguage,I’dlikedusingtheBerlineraccent.Whenwedroveanywhereinthecountry,peoplewouldknowwewerenotGerman,buttheyknewwelivedinBerlin.Thathadbeenkindofneat.SoI’dbeenworkingforthesameresultsinBlackMountain.

UsingmyownversionofTarnese,IthoughtIwastellingpeople,“Itisnotimportantifyoucomealoneorwithyourfamily…”Bythereaction

Iwasgetting,IthoughtIwasdazzlingeverybodywithmyversionofthelocalpatois.Intruth,however,Iwasmispronouncingthewordalone(seul)andmakingitsoundlikesoûl(drunk).SothereIwas,bouncingaroundtowntellingeverybodyitdidn’tmakeanydifferenceiftheycametoourparty,“drunk,orwiththeirfamily,”justaslongastheycame.Brilliant.

BINGDISPLAYEDherChristianheartbysendinganinvitationtoJean-JacquesandLailaKurtz.Wehadnotseenthemformonths.OurfriendshipessentiallyendedthenightIaskedthem“WhatwouldJesusdo?”Thesneakywaytheyhadhijackedourworkforcehadfurthercomplicatedthings.ButBingfelttheydeservedalookattheplacethey’dgottenusinto.

Theydidn’taccept.Jean-JacqueswrotethattheywouldbeinLondonfortheforeseeablefuture,addingacuriousnote.Withallhislinguisticskills,hedevotedawholeparagraphtowhathesawasmyinvitation’serrorincallingourcelebrationapendrelacrémaillère.(Roughly“thehangingofthefixtureforthefireplacepot,”i.e.theFrenchversionofourhousewarming.)Hislengthydiscoursesaidthephraseactuallymeant“beinghangedinthevillagesquare.”Bizarre.EvenourFrench–Englishdictionaryagreedwithusthatweweretalkingaboutahousewarming.

Justadayortwoafterwereceivedhisresponse,theirMercedeswasparkedbythefountain.TheysurelywerenotinEngland.ThelastthingIwantedwastorunintothem.Ihurriedpast.Atourdoor,however,unabletoresist,Ilookedbackupthestreet.Jean-JacquesandLailawerestandingbytheircar.Theysawme.Igaveaperfunctorynod.Theydid

not.Iquicklywentinside,closingthedoorbehindme.Istoodwithmybacktoit,dreadingaknock.UnlikewhenwefirstcametoBlackMountain,however,theknocknevercame.

ASTHEdaysmarchedby,therewerestilljobstobedone,butwithourlength-of-staysituation,keepingwithinsixmonthsinFrancetoprecludethepossibilityoffuturetaxassessments,manywouldjusthavetowait.Thenwebegantoworrythatnoonewouldcome.Orthepartywouldbeatotalbust,oneofthosedealswhereeveryonestandsandstares,itchingtogetaway.Athome,inthegoodoldUSofA,mybigmouthwasusuallyenoughtoturnadudgatheringintoacrediblyfuntime.ButinBlackMountain,couldIpullitoff?Bingsaidnottoworry.Iwasn’tsosure.

IneverthoughtI’dhonestlysayit,butthehouselookedgreat.Thehalfcurtainsmaskingtheappliancesunderthegreatplanchehadcomeoutbeautifully,andthecounteritselfhadagoldenglowfromthelinseedoilBingrubbedintoit.Plates,dishes,cups,saucers,andlittlespecialgiftswerebeautifullydisplayedontherusticshelveswe’dmountedonbracketsfromthepostsstructuringtheroom’sancientstonewall.

Steppingbackintothecenterofthelargeroomandlookingatthekitchenwe’dcreated,wewerepleased.We’dtakenofflayerafterlayerofuglywallpaper,chippedawaythecrackedandcrumblingplastertodisplaythestonebehindit.Allthroughthehousethathadbeenourapproach.Wehadthemodernconveniences,buthidden.We’dmadetheveryoldandtheverynewworktogether.OurFrenchdreamhadbecomeareality.

Otherssawittoo.MadameFontainewroteapieceinthemunicipal

journaldescribingwhatthispairofforeignershaddone.Howwetoolovedwhatsheandsomanyotherslovedofthevillage.ShewentontosaythatthecarewehadgiventoourrestorationhadbeenourtributetothepeopleofBlackMountain,especiallythosewhohadfoughtforitsverysurvivalthroughtheDepressionandthentheNazioccupation.Herpiecewasawonderfulsurprise,furtherspeakingtotheimportanceofourcomingcrémaillère.

BING,DOE,andTrakyascrubbed,swept,andsprucedupeverythinginsight.Ididsomefinishingtoucheswiththepaintbrush,whichisalwaysdangerousbecauseIcanneverstop.Atouchhere,adabthere,oh,overheretoo.FinallyBinghidthebrushesandorderedmetoClaude’scafétomakesurehiscook,Henri,hadthefoodsideofthingsundercontrol.

OurplanwastostartatsevenPM,relativelyearlybyFrenchstandards.ItwasaSaturday.Knowingthatmanyinthesouthwestregardedclockswithdisdain,wefiguredarrivalswouldgoonforeasilyanhour.Thestandardpastiswouldbelaidout,alongwithLillet,Ricard,Dubonnet,Muscat,vermouth,Scotch,andthelocalredsandwhitesClaudedecidedappropriate.Alittlelater,Henriwouldmarchinwithroasts,salads,fruits,cheeses,breads,andallthesidedishestoproperlyloadthelongcounterforthefirsttime.(Please,Lord,don’tletitcollapse.)

Thebigroomatthefrontofthehousewouldbethefocusofmostoftheactivity.Theshotgunlayoutoftherestofthefirstfloorwouldthendrawpeopleintothepetitsalon,thecourtyard,andprobablyallthewaybacktomyoffice.Thebackdoorthere,openingintothelittlealley(ruelle),wouldbekeptopenforbreezesaswellasforsnitchingbottles

fromClaude’scaféstashthere,ifweranshortofanything.

Wewerenotsurehowmanywouldcome.TheonlyrefusalswerefromtheKurtzes,andRaoulandEvita,whohadtorunatruckloadoffurnituretoParis.Aftertossingandturningthroughasleeplessnight,thenhurryingfromonelast-minutejobtothenext,promptlyat6PM,onehourdebonneheure(totallyunheardofanywhereinFrance),ourfirstguestarrived!

Goodheavens.IwasnakedbutformybathrobeandBingwasintheshower.Whothehellcouldbethump,thump,thumpingonourfrontdoor?Thenthedoorbelljoinedthechorus.LesGendarmes?Ipulledonmyslippers,tightenedtheterryclothsasharoundmywaist,andtumbleddownthestairstothefrontdoor.Thiscouldn’tbeaguest,ithadtobesomebodyofficial.OhGod,wasthehousebillowingsmokeagain?

Wrestlingopenthedoor,IwastotallysurprisedtoseeMonsieurPropre,lebalayeur(thestreetsweeper)standingthere.Andfromthelooksofhim,hehadtakenmyadviceaboutcomingeitherdrunkorwiththefamily.Nofamilyinsight,hischoicewasself-evident.Hewasstoned.

MostofthefrontroomsinBlackMountainhaveasmallstep-downfromthesidewalkintothehouse.M.Balayeurseemedtohaveforgottenaboutthatand,takinghisfirststrideinside,pitchedforwardintome.Thetwoofustoppledinaboozyembracebackwardontomyderrièreflatonthefloor.Thedoorwasstillopen.Afewpeoplepassingby,I’msure,weresurprisedtoseemynakedlegsprotrudingfromundertheprostratefigureofM.Propre.

Thrashingembarrassedlytoourfeet,Ikickedthedoorshut.Goingto

thecounter,groaningwithbottles,Ipouredafewfingersofpastisforbothofus,addingabitofwatertomine.Withsuchfortificationinhand,M.Proprewentintoalongramble,someofwhichIthinkwasaboutbribingjudges,boulesmatches,andfootball;Toulousevs.Marseille.Thatdone,hetippeddownthelastofhisdrink,handedmehisglass,spunfullaround,andwalkedsmartlyintothebackofthedoor.

Bingcamedowntocheckoutthenoise.Shewasn’taltogetheryet,thoughmuchfurtheralongthanIwasinmybathrobe.Then,stillthirtyminutesbeforepartytime,anotherraponthedoor.(Didn’tthesepeoplerealizetheywereFrench?)

TherewerethesmilingfacesofM.RogetandBernard,theplumbingshopteam.Wetwaders,fishingpolesinhand,theyhadbroughtustwodecentcatchesasgifts.Verysweet.Theycouldonlystayamoment,butacceptedaperitifs.Ourchatwentbadlybecauseourvocabulariesdidn’tyetincludemuchonfishing,boating,scaling,andgutting.Andtoo,Iwasdistractedbybeingnearlynaked.

Aftertheydeparted,whileIfinishedmytoilette,Binggreetedtheregulararrivingguests.TheBeaugesteswerefirst,PhilippeandMadame(whosefirstnamewe’dneverfoundout,nordidanyoneelseintownseemtoknow,despiteallhavinglivedthereformaybefiftyyears).Theybroughtlovelyflowers.MichelandJesselynefromLaBrasseriedashedinbriefly.Itwasjazznightforthem.Theybroughtagorgeousceramicumbrellastandthatwentimmediatelybythefrontdoor.TheyhurriedoffpromisingFrançois(serveur,thewaiter)wouldbebybeforethenightwasover.IsaidtotellhimapartyonrueBasquewithoutaBasquewouldbenopartyatall.HedidshowlaterwithflowersforBingandaBasquecrossonachainforme,whichhehookedaroundmyneck,

kissingbothcheeks.Iwashonestlytouched.

CarolineandFrançoisfromthepatisseriemadeitaftertheyclosed,eachcarryingadelicioustartedepomme.MadameCrespipoppedinforamomentonherwaytoachurchretreat.OurMoroccanneighborsleanedintosaytheywereofftoafamilybirthdaybutthankedusforthinkingofthem.TheThoreausdidthesame.ThenJean-Paul,theracecardriverI’dbecomefriendswithaftermyaccident,andhiswifeKattieappearedwithchampagneforBingandamodelhehadmadeoftheA4DSkyHawkfighter/attackplaneI’dflownintheMarineCorps!Ithadallthemarkings,evendowntotheinsigniaofmysquadron,TheBlackSheep.DiddierandwifefromDurfort,whohavetheleathershopthere,arrivedwithflowersandmorechampagne.AndMadameFontainestrodethroughthedoorwithMedusaingrandfashion,followedbyourbelovedconfidantandFrenchteacher,Edwige.

Theparadeofpeopleandthegiftstheyborewasstartling.MadameandMonsieurRigalefromthefarmarrivedwiththeirbeautifulcollegedaughter.IwasamazedtoseeM.Rigaleoffhistractorforthefirsttime.WewerehugelytouchedbythesofapillowMmeRigalestitchedespeciallyforBing.

Towardeighto’clock,SylvieandMichelfromthegrocerycamewithmoreflowersandcandy.TrakyaandAntonreturned,andthenAdrianfromthebargequietlysmiledhiswaythroughthedoorandwhisperedforamomentalone.

Forthemomentthecourtyardwasempty,soIledAdrianthere,scoopinguptwoglassesofchampagnealongtheway.Onceoutside,bothofuswithglassesinhand,Adrianfirsthandedmeabigjaroffoiegras,whichBingandIbothlove,andfollowedthatupwithasuperbly

accuratescalemodeloftheveryHarley-DavidsonIrodeintheStates.AfterIofferedmanythanksforhisthoughtfulness,Adrianhelduphisfreehandandsaid,“Ken,Icannotstaylong.Therearemoreproblemsatthehospitalwithmy…myex-wife.Shehasregressed.Shemighthavetobeinstitutionalized.I…oh,God.”

Hecouldn’tgetanymoreout,and,puttinghisuntouchedglassonthegardentable,hepulledmeovertotoucheachofmycheekswithhis,thenstrodebackintothehouseandquicklythroughthegatheringparty.Ilostsightofhimevenbeforehewasoutthedoor.Ifeltawful.Totallyinadequateasafriend,probablyasinadequateashemustfeelasalosthusbandandpowerlessfather.

BeforeIcouldthinkanymoreofdearAdrian’stroubledworld,Laurant,wife,anddaughterarrivedwithagiganticbottleofchampagne,alongwithawrappedgifttheysaidwouldbepresentedlater.OfcourseIscrewedup,notknowingthedoublejeroboamwasatraditionalgifttothehomeownerfromtherestaurateurtobeuncorkedatjusttherightmomentinthefestivities,tokeepthingsproperlyroughhouseandunruly.Istupidlyputitbythedoorandpromptlyforgotaboutit.(Later,whenfinallyinformedofmyinsensitivity,however,Iexplainedtoallthatwestillhadthefrontfaçadetodo,soIwasholdingoffpullingthatcorkuntilthatjobwasdonetoo.Quickthinking.Goodsave.)

AntoineandMme.Placoarrived,asdidBruno(NuméroUn),Rouge,andMichelthemason.Blendine(MadameBricolage)andherbeautifuldaughter.Jean-LucfromFly;Carlo,themasterpainter,andEvebackfromParismadeitwithNeige.Ataboutthesametime,PrinceValiantofthelumberyardstrodethroughthedoorwithtwoblondebeauties.

Morepeoplekeptcrowdingin.ClaudeandSophieandHenricame

carryingplattersofwonderfulfood.Pastisflowed,wineflowed,Antondrankallthebeerhecouldfind,finallydiscoveringtheunlimitedsupplybackintheruelle.Yes,thepartywasgettinguptospeedinfinestyle.

Onehitchwehadwasnotknowingthephraseservez-vous(serveyourself).InFrance,itseems,peoplewaitforthehostorhostesstotaketheleadofferingthings,unlessit’smadecleartoservez-vous.TheAmericanwayofeveryonepitchinginisforeign,nopunintended.Oncewe’dfiguredthisout,thingswentsmoothly,ifyoudidn’tcountallthechampagnecorksbouncingaroundlikecannonballs.

Whentherewasapauseintheaction,LaurantandwifeBeatricecametostandwithmebythefireplacePlacoandRougebuiltandBingdesigned.Itwasasweetmoment.Clinkingtheirglassestogeteveryone’sattention,theygaveashortspeechabouthowbadlythey’doriginallyfeltforus,withthelanguagestruggle,thehousestruggle,themyriadproblemsthey’dseenustackle,tosaynothingofmynearlykillingmyselfonthebike…andhowwefinallyhadsucceeded.Theywentontotellofthepeoplewalkingbyoverthemonths,wishingusboncourage,andhowIhadfirstcalledthehouseChâteauPoubelleandCasaPoubelle.Butnowtheywantedittohaveanewname.WiththattheyhandedmetheirpackageasBingcametomyside.Wepulledoffthewrappingandfoundaceramicmosaicovalwithlargelettersspellingout—AUBONCOURAGE!

Nowourhousehadarealname,aFrenchnametomountbythedoor.Igotweepyasweallhuggedandeveryonecheeredandmorecorkspopped.Thentherewasapause.Everyonewaslookingatme.Itwasmyturntomakeaspeech.

WhileBingwasbesideme,holdingtheplaqueforalltosee,IsaidhowwonderfulLaurantandhiscrewhadbeen.Itoldeverybodyof

howwonderfulLaurantandhiscrewhadbeen.ItoldeverybodyofBrunoandhowhealwaysgotthelousyjobsbutdidthemwithasmile.Iaskedhimtocomeuptowherewewerestanding.Igrabbedanunopenedbottleofchampagneandpresentedittohim.BinggavehimahugandIfollowedsuit.Everyonecheered.

NextIsangthepraisesofRouge(Eric),theforemanandanotherofthosewhoweretherefromthebeginningtotheend.Imadesomesnideremarkabouthis“UniversityofPrinceton”pullover,andwhenhecameforward,wepresentedhimwithanauthenticPrincetonUniversitysweater,promisinghimthatoncethefaçadeofthehousewasdone,I’dhaveasweaterforhimfrommyuniversity…YALE!Bigcheers.(TheFrenchactuallyknowofYale,Harvard,andPrinceton,amongotherU.S.colleges.)

FinallyIaskedAntoine,M.Placo,tostepforward.Withhimandhiswifeinfrontofeverybodywithme,Iwaxedmoreorlesseloquentlyonhisattributesasaworkerandcraftsmanandartist.ToeachmentionImadeofhisskillsandtheirapplication,however,I’daddthephrasedetempsentemps,meaning“fromtimetotime.”SoIwassaying,“Antoinewhenyouwork…fromtimetotime.Andwhenyouapplyyouramazingskills…fromtimetotime,andshowyourcompatriotshowthejobisdone…fromtimetotime…”Iwouldn’tletitquit.Laurantgotahugekickoutofthewholeshtick.AndwhenIrolledittoafloweryconclusion,everyoneapplaudedandstampedtheirfeetandhootedinunison,“Detempsentemps!Detempsentemps!”

Butitwasn’tover.Holdingupmyhandforquiet,Igotserious.IspokeofhowAntoinecouldmakesomethinglikethefireplacewewerestandinginfrontof,andtheplacobuttingagainstitandagainstthe

irregularwoodofthebeams,andtheceiling…makeitallblendsobeautifully,thewallsandfloorsandtheirwonderfulfits,flushandfine(propre),andhowhedidthisallwiththecrudestoftools.Howhemadetheworkprecise,professional,beautiful.

“So,”Iconcluded,“afteralifetimeofcreatingbeautywithbeastlytoolstoworkwith…”Ireachedintomybackpocketandpulledoutthemostprizedtoolofall.AbrandnewLeatherman!

Ihandedittohimandwehugged.WhenIfelttheshakeofhisshouldersIknewhe’dliterallyburstintotears.Ipattedhimagain,thenlookedoveratLaurant,whohadtearstricklingdownhischeekstoo.

THEN,WITHfiftyormorepeoplejammedintothemainroom,upthestairway,atthedoorway,andpeekinginthroughtheopenedwindowsfromrueBasque,withstillmoresittingonthelongcounterlikebirdsonabranch,everythingfellsilent.NowIhadtocomeupwithsomething,somethingtomaketheeveningmemorable.

IcaughtBing’seye.She’dslidoverbesideLaurantandBeatrice.MovingtotheCDplayeronashelfbythestairs,sheslippedadiscintoitandclickedthelidshut.Assheturnedupthevolume,Iheldoutmyhandinherdirectioncalling—“Bing…DANSON!”(Let’sdance!)

“Biensûr!”Shecalledback,laughing.AndYES!Atthatinstant,ClaudeFrançois’campy‘70svoiceboomedthroughthehouse!Myabsolutefavorite.Hisadolescentoldieshiteverybody’snostalgianerve,spoton.BingandImovedtowardeachotherandpeoplepressedbackasbesttheycould,givingusasmallspaceinthecenteroftheroom.Wefellintoeachother’sarmsandwhirledandtwirledlikekidsattheprom.Everybodystarteddancing.Insideandoutside.Thefarmer,thepainter,

themason,theplasterer,thehodcarrier,thegrocers,thehotelier,neighbors,everybody—including,ashepushedhiswaythroughthedoorandintotheroom…MonsieurChevalier,themayor!

Roarsoflaughter,clapping…andhappypeopledancingcontinuedlongintowhatseemedanendlessnight.Yes,itwasthepartywehadprayeditwouldbe.MerciDieu!

THELASTgueststoleavewereLaurantandBeatricewithdaughterAstrid(whohadbeenasleepmostofthenightupstairs),ournewdearestfriends.Lauranthadtaughtmealot.Alotaboutmaturity,trust,andinalargersense,love.He’dkepttheevenkeeldespitemyadolescentbehavior,understandinghowespeciallydifficultallthishadbeenforBingandme.

Wethankedthemagainfortheplaqueandthenewnamethey’dgivenourhouse.Wepromisedwe’dmountitbythedoorinthemorning,tostandguarduntilwereturnednextyear.IntwodayswewouldbedrivingtoBrittanytospendtimewithPierreandMarie-ClaudebeforecontinuingontoParisforourreturnflighttoAmerica.

Astiredasweallwere,Icouldseeineveryone’seyesthewarmgloweachwasfeeling.Itwaslikereachingtheendofalong,painfulstruggle,awar,anillness,childbirthperhaps,andfindingyouhadsucceeded,won,lived,orgivenbirthtosomethingnew,exciting,andwonderful.

Therehadbeenalotofpainalongtheway.Misunderstandings.Doubts.Anger.Struggle.Butsuccessestoo,includingnewfriendshipsinanewcountry,andthebeginningsofbeingabletouseanotherlanguage.Itwasexcitingandconfirming.SuddenlybothBingandIknewexactlywhatMadameFontainehadbeentalkingaboutwhenshe

saidshenowwasstartinghernextlife.Andsotoowouldwe.AnditwouldbehereinBlackMountain…LaMontagneNoire.

ASSERGEandBeatriceandyoungAstridwalkedhandinhanddowntheemptynarrowstreet,Bingmovedclosebesidemeandwrappedmyarmaroundherwaist.Wewatchedthethreedisappearingintothedeepeningnight.Then,astheywereonlydimoutlinesahead,weheardthemcallbacktous,“Boncourage!”