Racing Time

Caen, France

The lavender grew as the days grew longer. Duncan kept rescuing people, and Elena kept shoveling cartloads of manure. She also rode every day. After a few weeks, M. Oiseaux invited her to lunch at his home instead of eating outside by herself.

"I don't want to be any trouble," Elena said.

"Not at all," he murmured. "Maryse can easily cook for one more, and she makes delicious soups," he said with a wave of one hand then looked at the farmhouse and added quietly, "And my wife would appreciate the company." He gave Elena a wry smile. "She has heard all my stories and jokes a thousand times over."

So Elena began eating lunch with the Oiseaux. Elena usually stayed for a time after the meal was over, enjoying a cup of espresso and chatting with Mme. Oiseaux while M. Oiseaux went back to work outside and Maryse washed dishes in the kitchen.

As the days went by the two women discussed horses, wine, movies, clothes—and even swords. Mme. Oiseaux' first love had been an Olympic fencer, and he had introduced her to the ancient art. Elena moved through lunges, envelopments and ripostes, as the other woman reminisced.

"Please, call me Lucille," the Frenchwoman said one day. "And may I call you Luz?"

"Of course," Elena said. "You know, both our names mean 'light' in different languages."

"I know. We were meant to meet be amies," Lucille replied, and within a day M. Oiseaux had become Henri, and Elena was officially a family friend. Even so, they did not discuss the cancer or Lucille's approaching death. Lucille had not yet accepted her situation and was clinging to hope. On warm days, she came outside and sat in the sunshine to watch the horses. After the horses were brought in from the fields, Jacques or Henri pushed her wheelchair through the stable, as she didn't have the strength to walk very far. She spoke to each horse in turn, handing out carrots and patting noses.

"You ride very well," Lucille said to Elena one day after lunch. "Can you teach?"

Elena nodded. "I've taught many people how to ride." Many many people, she added to herself.

"Henri and I were wondering if you would like to teach here." She finished off her glass of wine, her too-thin fingers holding tight. "We would pay you, of course, a percentage of the lesson fees. He thought perhaps you could use the cash?"

Elena was totally aware that teaching had been Lucille's specialty, when she'd been healthy. What a shame. "Absolutely," Elena agreed, for it would help the family, and she had been about to suggest the same thing, but it was much better coming from them. "I'd love it." On her way home that day, she went to the feed store to announce there would be riding lessons again at the Oiseaux stables, starting in July, with herself as the instructor.

At the first lesson, dressed all in black, Elena ran out of the stable, leaped onto the black mare without benefit of stirrups, and cajoled the mare into rearing up onto her hind legs. The stunned students clapped.

"We don't teach stunts here," Henri told her after, disapproving.

"Of course not, Monsieur. This is just theater, so they'll come."

And come they did, for everyone wanted to meet the wild senorita with the black mane that matched her mount's. New riders and students, mostly young men and teenage boys, then the young men's women and the boys' families. Elena, still wearing all black but with a proper riding helmet and few if any 'stunts', smiled at them all. Two of Jacques' school friends volunteered to muck stables. Henri hired them, and Elena smiled at them a lot.

When people came, they found healthy, well-trained horses, excellent equipment, and serious instruction. Elena hand-matched each horse and rider and introduced them to each other. She told them, "Talk to your horse. Call him by name. Take a few minutes to get acquainted. When you get on, pat his neck and thank him for letting you on his back. Horses are like three-year-old children, just bigger and stronger. Don't fear them. Be firm, be consistent, and let them know you're in charge. And also enjoy them. Love them. They will respond."

In August, she offered a special two-day clinic for experienced riders, while Jacques led the trail rides for their family members and other tourists. It went so well that they planned several more for the year.

The long summer days provided plenty of sunshine, and Duncan came often to the stables to ride. Henri, initially skeptical, soon changed his opinion of Duncan. "He has an excellent seat," Henri observed as Duncan took a horse over the jumps.

"Yes, indeed," Lucille murmured in agreement then winked at Elena. The two of them shared a private smile. After lunch that day, during which Duncan had impressed all the Oiseaux family with his knowledge of horses, Lucille confided to Elena, "I approve of your 'friend'."

Elena smiled and nodded, unsurprised; no woman who met Duncan could help adoring him.

Henri apparently also approved. He was already asking Duncan for advice on how to train the young and difficult Mignone. Duncan turned to Elena, and Lucille joined in, and soon the four of them had mapped out a thorough training schedule. Henri looked at the paper then at Elena and said, "Can you help me with this?"

"Bien sur," she said, utterly delighted.

Then Henri looked at Duncan, who offered, "I'll come when I can, if you like." Henri shook Duncan's hand and opened a bottle of wine.

"A toast," Lucille offered, her glass raised high. "To Mignone!"

At the end of August, Lucille's brother Paul arrived for a week, having left his wife and two sons, who hadn't wanted to come, home in Rouen. Paul worked with computers, and he had never really taken to "les chevaux de Lucie," but he was willing to do the hard manual labor that was needed. The second day Paul was so stiff he could hardly move, so he spent the day with his sister, drinking herbal tea and laughing about their childhood escapades. He also updated all their computer systems.

"He's doing more good with her in the house than he is out here," Henri opined.

While Lucille napped on the third day of his visit, Elena gave Paul some carrots and introduced him to their gentle giant, Claude. The following day Paul spent the morning going over old photo albums and vids with his sister. That afternoon Elena cajoled Paul into getting onto Claude's back, and by the end of the week Paul was riding and loving it.

That Saturday—Elena was coming six days a week now—Paul ate his final lunch at the farmhouse then said farewell. Henri drove him to the train station, and Jacques went to the stable. Elena stayed with Lucille. "I don't believe it," Lucille complained to Elena. "I spent years trying to convince him how wonderful horses are, and you got him riding in a week!"

Elena smiled. "Sometimes we don't listen to those who love and know us best. We get stubborn; want to do things our own way. The people we love don't count—we've already heard them so many times. So it takes a total stranger to make us see what we've been told all along."

"Yes, and of course, you're a beautiful woman, Paul liked you, you smiled and flirted a little, Jacques thinks you're wonderful, and—"

"Lucille!" Elena exclaimed.

"No, I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. I … I don't know why I said that."

Elena knew why. She came to sit on the couch next to Lucille. She took Lucille's hands—they were thin and pale in Elena's strong brown ones. "Neither I nor anyone else will ever replace you. Not with Paul. Not with Jacques. And absolutely never with Henri, who totally adores you."

"I know that," Lucille agreed, her eyes filling. "I know. You're a good friend, Luz."

"Besides," Elena added, laughing a little, "Claude did all the flirting. He's a big sweetheart, and no one can resist him."

One cold November afternoon Elena went to the stable to check on her black mare, Francine, who had been kicked in the leg the day before. Elena found Jacques with a broom in his hand, staring at the floor he was not sweeping. When their eyes met she could see the pain right down to his boots.

"I … may I …"

Elena sighed internally. She really didn't want to hear this. After she'd lost her own family, she hadn't wanted to get entangled with another suffering family so soon, especially a boy about to lose his mother. She'd just wanted to help with the horses and stay out of the messy emotional stuff. But that was no longer possible; she cared about this French family. So she leaned against the wall and said, "Tell me, Jacques."

His words flooded out. "I want to tell Maman that I love her. I mean, I do tell her I love her, but I want to tell her that I'll miss her. I want to tell her… Luz, how am I going to live without her? I need her. But I can't say that because I don't want to hurt her. She still talks about getting better, but… Papa says the doctors…" The boy started shaking his head, took a deep breath, and stopped.

Jacques had good instincts. His mother wasn't ready to start saying goodbye, and having her son break down would not help her. But a son did need his mother. He also needed his father. Unfortunately, Henri was being the strong silent type, so Jacques wasn't talking to him, either.

Elena put an arm around his shoulders and squeezed, not quite the hug she would have given Marcellino, but a hug from a mother to a son nevertheless. "Why don't you tell your father?" she asked him.

"To tell Maman for me?"

"I think, when the time is right, you should tell her yourself. But your father is probably wondering the same thing you are. You two should talk about how you feel."

"You mean we could share the pain?"

Elena nodded. The pain of watching his mother die was eating Jacques alive. As for Henri…

"I think Papa is hurting more than me," Jacques said next.

Elena didn't nod even though she was thinking, "Right again, boy." Losing a beloved spouse was the worst. "You can comfort each other," Elena said. "He needs you, too."

Jacques nodded. Then, impulsive as all teens, he handed the broom to Elena and abandoned his chores to run out toward the corrals. Elena took over the sweeping. Looking out the back door of the stable, she saw Jacques approach Henri, who was sitting on top of a fence, watching his horses and brooding, which he'd been doing more of lately. Jacques spoke briefly; Henri swung his legs around and leaped down. The two hugged fiercely then slowly sank into the ground, openly weeping.

That night Elena cried herself to sleep in Duncan's arms.

The next day Jacques seemed better, and he and Henri worked side by side on chores. As the weather turned colder and winter came on, the boy Jacques grew taller, and Mignone grew into her promise of speed. Her training went well, and every so often Henri would bring out another bottle of wine and they would toast her again.

Lucille hung on through Christmas and into the spring, surprising the doctors. "I'm going to see Mignone race," she declared. "It's only half a year away." Elena and Henri were working hard to make that race a win.

Easter came early that year, with patches of snow still on the ground, but it quickly grew warm, and the lavender began putting out buds.

"I almost wish Jacques weren't going to school," Lucille said to Elena after lunch. "It was so good to have him here over the spring holiday. Now that he's in school, it's so quiet. So quiet," she repeated in a whisper then turned to Elena. "I love Jacques so much I want him with me every minute. I just don't know what to say to him," Lucille confessed. "What do you think, Luz?"

Elena realized she had become somewhat of a confidante for the Oiseaux family, someone they could trust and talk to but who wasn't actually a part of the family tragedy. So be it. She took a deep breath then said, "Tell him the house is too quiet, that you love him so much you want him with you every minute, but you don't know what to say to him," Elena suggested. "Be honest, Lucille."

"He's strong enough, isn't he? I'm the weak one."

Elena shook her head slowly. "He's not facing what you're facing."

"If my faith is true then I'm facing notre Seigneur. And that can't be so bad. I'm starting to look forward to it."

The pain from the cancer must be terrible in spite of the drugs, Elena thought, but this was also a good thing. Lucille Oiseaux was accepting death at last, and Jesus' love and comfort were at the end of the road.

Lucille stared off into space then added, "But my two loves… I think it's worse for them."

Elena had been in their shoes, not in hers, but she believed it was worse for them.

"A boy needs his maman," Lucille stated.

Yes he does, Elena thought. Marcellino was not a boy; he was a full-grown man. But it wasn't right, the way he'd lost his parents and grandmother. He needed her. She was here. Why not—?

"…ever had children?" Lucille was asking.

"No," Elena lied.

"You and Duncan should. You should get married and have many babies. They would be beautiful children, and you would make a great maman," the Frenchwoman opined.

Elena had been a good mamma. She remembered Marcellino saying "Mamma" as his very first word, and the way he had looked up at her and reached up to hold her hand. But lately she hadn't being a good mamma. That was going to change.

"I should get back," Elena said, walking to the door. At the threshold she said, "Talk to him."

Lucille nodded. "I will," she agreed.

And they obviously did, because after that Jacques spent more time in the house and less with the horses, and his father did not seem to mind one bit. In fact, Henri, too, started spending more time with his family, leaving more work for Elena and the other hired help, and Elena did not mind one bit.

"I'm going to Rome," Elena announced a week later, as she and Duncan ate breakfast outside and listened to the birds on a warm spring morning.

Duncan nodded. "To visit Lorenzo's grave on his birthday."

"Yes. I want to catch him up on what I've been doing," she said, smiling. "But also to see Marcellino."

This time Duncan shook his head. "Elena—"

"He's my son."

"It's been two years. He's moved on with his life."

"Exactly," she agreed. "So it will be easier. We won't both be raw with grief."

Duncan started to speak, then took a deep breath. "I didn't tell my children, as you know. It's been hard for me, but I think it's best for them."

"Of course I want what's best for Marcellino," she said. "I'm his mother."

Duncan nodded slowly. "It's your decision, Elena." He stood and kissed her then picked up his plate and cup and went inside to get ready for work.

Continued in "Reaching Back" in which Elena goes to Rome

Translations (French)

Amies – friends

Chevaux – horses

Notre Seigneur – our Lord