That was a question he couldn’t answer yet.
“I’ve been so busy lately, I decided to spend quality time with her. Dr Soulier says the more stimulation, the better.”
“As you should do,” his mother remarked.
Giselle threw her napkin down. “Why do you encourage him, Maman? After three years, we all know she’s not going to wake up.”
“None of us knows that,” Luc countered. “As long as there’s a chance, I’m going to do everything in my power to make it happen.”
“I don’t understand this obsession,” Giselle cried in frustration.
“I do,” their mother snapped. “Despite a piece of paper, Luc is still married to her in the eyes of God, and don’t you forget it, ma fille!”
At this point Giselle was on her feet. Her eyes looked suspiciously bright as she turned to him. “I can’t stand to see you go on like this.”
He and Giselle had always been close, but the situation with Paulette had strained their relationship.
“After today you and Jean-Marc won’t have to. I’m sleeping at my new house from now on, starting tonight.”
“So soon?” his mother questioned. “I was hoping you would stay here a little longer. Since your papa died, I love having my children around.”
He kissed her cheek. “We all need our space, Maman.”
“But you have no one to cook for you.”
“That’s the least of my worries.”
“Well, it’s one of mine! I’ll be by to bring you some food so you won’t starve to death.”
Giselle eyed him soulfully. “Paulette’s not going to wake up. You do know that, don’t you?”
“Enough!” their mother cried, pointing her finger at Giselle.
“You have your hands full taking care of your own husband and children. I would like to see how you would react if it were Jean-Marc lying in that hospital bed.”
Giselle’s cheeks went a ruddy color. “If we were already divorced, I can assure you I wouldn’t have stayed at his bedside three years waiting for the impossible to happen.”
“Nothing’s impossible,” their mother said firmly.
Giselle continued to look at Luc. “Remember what Papa always said? There comes a time when we must laissez-le de se faire.”
Trust his vintner sister to remind him of the old expression their father lived by.
Don’t add anything artificial to the process. Leave the wine to do what it is meant to do.
Translated, let Paulette’s family decide to shut off the machines and then see what happens.
Tears filled her eyes. “You’re not meant to live a monk’s life. At this rate you’re going to have a breakdown.”
Breakdown.
An interesting choice of words his guilt hadn’t allowed him to contemplate since last evening, when he’d first laid eyes on Rachel Valentine. A woman like her didn’t need a man with his kind of baggage.
“I have to go.”
“That’s all you have to say?”
Giselle was in pain for him, but right now he was too fragmented by opposing forces to think. At this point it felt as if all his energy was focused on the beautiful wine buyer from the UK who was less than an hour away from here.