Page 76 of French Escapade

Ken

Ifeel the heat from a ray of sun sliding between the curtains and hear something moving outside. Opening my eyes, I lift my head.

According to the clock on the nightstand, it’s nine. A woman is setting up a tray on the terrace of our ground-floor bedroom. Breakfast is served in the garden.

Slowly, the smell of coffee enters the room. It’s tempting, but not enough to make me want to leave our cocoon. Élodie’s still sleeping on her side, resting against me.

I drop my head back on the pillow we’re sharing and take in the smell of her hair. We’re supposed to present ourselves at the gendarmerie at noon. Ted will wait for us at reception at ten-thirty so we can go pick up Madison. Well, if the doctors agree to let her out.

This gives us an hour and a half. Ninety minutes are not enough … especially if I let her sleep. Slowly, I put an arm around her waist and kiss her neck. She purrs like a kitten. A second kiss, and she turns towards me.

“Slow down,” I whisper in her ear as I hold her back. “Don’t overestimate your strength.”

I pull away to let her roll on her back. She moans in pain as she does.

Jumping out of bed, I return a few seconds later with a glass of water and the painkillers they gave her at the hospital. While I was at it, I also grabbed the cream.

“Am I dreaming, or does it really smell like coffee?” Her smile is forced.

“No, you’re not dreaming, but let’s do things right. First your meds, and then coffee.”

I help her sit up enough to swallow her pills, then lay her down again. Before she pulls the sheet back up, I get a look at the extent of the damage. Around the impact, her skin has begun to go through the hematoma rainbow. The color of the day is purple.

“You’re right. No hurry,” she says, inviting me with a motion of her head to get back next to her.

I slide into bed and put some cream on my hand. I breathe on it to warm it up, and then, with the tips of my fingers, I apply the ointment to her bruised skin. A few minutes later, the product applied, my hands explore other parts of her body.

Élodie moves to her side, and facing me, she also lets her fingers explore. A major effort, and she’s above me.

* * *

I think we’re going to have cold coffee for breakfast.

At 10:30 on the dot, I help Élodie into the car. Andrea is our driver. He looks like he didn’t sleep much. He starts the car and looks into the rear-view mirror, observing Élodie adjusting her belt so that it only rests around her waist.

“Mademoiselle Cossa,” he says. “I want to apologize for yesterday. I was—”

“It’s fine Andrea,” she answers. “These things happen.”

“Not to me,” he energetically protests. “I was careless, and …”

“We all had let our guards down,” I say.

Following Élodie’s lead, I decide to let it go. What’s done is done and rubbing it in would serve no purpose. Especially since I know that he and Ted will debrief and, when that happens, Ted is going to be tough on him.

One thing’s for sure, in the future, in the same circumstances, there will not be one more warning. That’s how we learn, and no one got killed. Actually, now that I think about it …

“What’s up with Arkady?”

Relieved by the change of topic, Andrea starts talking, and there’s no stopping him. He hasn’t come to, but Arkady did survive his trip. He was transferred by chopper to another hospital.

Andrea ends his summary of the situation enraged. “He’s worst than acancrelat!”

I turn to Élodie, because this word is not part of my vocabulary. “A cockroach,” she explains. Interesting to see that the resistant insect is just as despised here as it is at home.

“Where are Ted and Jimmy?”

“Jimmy took the chopper with Arkady. He said something to the effect that we had no one else available who spoke Russian and that, given his condition, if he’s to wake up, that’s likely to be the only language he’ll be able to speak.”

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