Having the Frenchman's Baby. Rebecca Winters
“For as long as it takes.”
“Let my sister go. Let this be finished so she can rest in peace!”
Luc’s hands formed fists. He leaned over to kiss the forehead of her thin face before walking out of the room into the hall.
He refused to allow any arguing in front of Paulette. On some level he was convinced she could hear and understand what was going on. It horrified him that Yves had talked about her dying while standing next to her bed.
The other man followed him into the corridor. “My sister’s gone. You have no right to prolong this agony.”
After being best friends from childhood, it didn’t seem possible the two of them had come to this impasse.
“I’m paying for her care, Yves.”
“Money be damned. We’re talking about Paulette. She wouldn’t have wanted this. You know she wouldn’t!”
“That’s easy for us to say since we’re not the one in there fighting for life.”
Yves’ face screwed up in pain. “That’s no life. You might as well know now. Since there isn’t any reasoning with you, the family got together last month. We’ve hired an attorney to fight you in court and get these infernal machines turned off.”
“I know,” Luc whispered. “My attorney already informed me.” It was only a matter of time before Luc’s sister Giselle found out.
Thank God his new house was ready to move into so he could live on his own again. Between his mother who backed him, and Giselle who sided with Yves and fought him at every opportunity, Luc hadn’t had a moment’s peace in the last year.
“You can’t win, Luc. You’re not her husband. The only reason we gave you this long before getting legal counsel is because of our families’ longstanding friendship over the years. But because of this insanity of yours, that’s gone…disappeared.”
That was right. Because of Luc, Paulette had been consigned to a living death. But not if he could help it.
He shifted his weight. “I’m planning on her waking up, Yves. When she does, I’ll do whatever I can to help her get on with her life.”
Yves plowed fingers through hair as blond as Paulette’s. “No, Luc. Your responsibility to her is over. Even if Paulette were to wake up and make a full recovery, she wouldn’t want you involved.”
Luc closed his eyes tightly for a minute. “When she wakes up, I intend to be here for her.”
“Could it be you’re confusing guilt and remorse with love?”
Those words stung. “I loved your sister. That’s why I married her.”
“But sometimes love isn’t enough. Come on, Luc. That time is long past and now Paulette yearns to escape her body.”
If Luc thought that were true…
“This morning Maman and Papa asked me to talk sense to you one final time. They said that if you really care about her, then prove it and allow her to go free so this madness can end.”
Luc shook his dark head. “I can’t… All the research I’ve done on coma patients indicates they respond to their loved ones’ stimulation. She could wake up at any time.”
Strong hands clasped Luc’s cheeks. “But she hasn’t, and she won’t because she’s in a vegetative state. A few sounds and tiny movements over thirty-six months means nothing! So I’m begging you—give it up!” he half sobbed the words before wheeling away.
Luc watched his friend’s solid figure until it disappeared around a corner. No one could get to him like Yves, who’d been closer than a brother from childhood.
Overwhelmed by guilt attacking him from every direction, he rested against the wall for a minute and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands.
Not only had his four-year marriage ended in failure, Paulette’s car accident was his fault.
Talking to Yves had just compounded his guilt because of the pain he’d brought to her family. Besides their grief over her condition, they didn’t have the kind of money it took to pay attorney fees.
Had Luc become such a selfish bastard, he didn’t care who got hurt any more as long as he got his own way?
Crucified once more by Yves’ tortured plea, Luc went back to her bedside to say goodnight.
When he left the hospital, he passed by the nursing station to let them know he was on his way out. They had his cell-phone number and knew to call him day or night if there was any change in her condition.
Luc left the hospital aware there was no change in Paulette.
There would never be a change.
That was what everyone was telling him, including his sister’s husband.
Jean-Marc was a good man, but he and Giselle never missed an opportunity to remind him it was Paulette’s family who had the last say in the matter.
Her parents had brought her into the world and raised her. They wanted what they felt was best for their daughter. It was their God-given right after all.
Rights.
How Luc hated that word.
Yves had spoken the truth when he’d said Luc had no legal grounds to fight their family.
But wanting Paulette to wake up from that coma didn’t have anything to do with rights.
At the core of his anguish lay the need to rid his soul of a burden growing increasingly heavy.
He’d had three years to come to terms with the divorce. What haunted him was the inability to go back to the day of her accident and prevent it.
Ever since he’d found out she was lying unconscious in the hospital, he hadn’t ceased begging her forgiveness. But he didn’t know if she’d heard him.
Once her family made the decision to turn off the machines, there wouldn’t be a possibility of her hearing him, let alone forgiving him.
He hit his fist against his palm.
Once again it all got down to what he wanted, as if the universe revolved around him.
One word from him to the Brouet family and everything would change for them.
On the surface he had to admit life would change for him, too. No more daily trips to the hospital.
But inwardly nothing else would be different. Remorse over the accident that didn’t need to have happened stifled life’s possibilities.
Once back in his Wagoneer, his pain and frustration were further aggravated by the faint smell of roses that still lingered in the car’s interior. Sensitive to fragrances all his life, he was haunted by Ms Valentine’s scent.
It appeared this visit to the hospital hadn’t rooted her out of his system the way he could prune a vine and make a clean cut of the unwanted cane.
Part of him resented her intrusion at this critical period in his life. Just the thought of her opened the floodgates to his private thoughts.
Once again he was bombarded by unbidden pictures he hadn’t been able to expel from his consciousness.
He revved up the engine, and his tires squealed as he left the parking lot. In a few minutes he reached his mother’s home where he’d been living temporarily. But he was so conflicted by feelings and emotions tearing him apart, he knew there’d be no sleep for him tonight.
Because of a certain enigmatic Frenchman, Rachel tossed and turned during the long, dark hours of the night. Relieved when the light of dawn crept into the room, she showered and got dressed in a silky cream blouse and tan skirt for her work day with Giles Lambert.
He’d phoned her last night to make the arrangements,