"Wes!" I call, "Wesley – we're going to be late to the shuttle station!"
"Coming! Coming!" I look over at Jean Luc. He's out the door and I catch his grin and his eye roll as I tap my foot, waiting for Wes and Saoirse. I hear him call, "we're looking for the kitty!"
I look around the living room, spotting it on the couch, "On the couch!"
Loud footsteps and a rush of red and brown make their way into the living room and in a moment join us on the steps.
"Kitty," Saoirse says with delight as she hugs the plush black and white kitten.
"Ready?" Jean Luc asks exasperatedly.
"Ready, Kitten?" I kiss golden ringlets and elicit a giggle. She nods her head and we head to the car.
/
"What's it like in Labarre in April?" Wesley asks, staring out the window of the shuttle. We're flying low enough to see the terrain change beneath us. I've love watching the scenery change from lush, American forest to parched Nevada sands and then back to forest and plains of the Midwest. Travelling at such high speeds blends the terrain seamlessly and makes the distance seem inconsequential.
Jean Luc sits back into the comfortable chair, "It's been a while since I was there. But, I remember it was quite warm. In the Bordeaux region it truly never gets too cold. I think in the winter the coldest it would get was 7 C, but right now it should be quite lovely. Not too warm, not cold." He laughs, "quite a change from freezing Yakima."
"Indeed," Wesley intones, mirroring Jean Luc's favourite expression of agreement and eliciting a teasing grin.
/
I must have fallen asleep, I surmise, as I am groggily woken by hushed laughter.
"He what?!" Wesley's voice is incredulous.
"I'm serious. I couldn't believe it myself when he did it. I spent the greater part of that year plotting revenge."
"Did you finally get him back?"
Before I see his devious grin, I hear it in his voice. "Oh yes. In spades."
"Are you going to keep me in suspense?"
"Well," Jean Luc begins theatrically, "I spread a horrible rumor about him in school. Oh," he pauses, "it really was horrible and now thinking back on it, it was terribly, terribly juvenile-"
"Well?"
"I told the whole school that he was a bed-wetter."
I hear my son's laughter filled words as he tries to choke out a, "you did not!"
I look over at them through sleepy eyes as a grin tugs at my own mouth. I don't know that much about Jean Luc's childhood. I also didn't know how devious he was! This is a whole new side of my husband that I am eager to get to know, if for no other reason than to amuse myself. He knows I'm awake as he leans over and kisses my cheek.
"Oh, Jean Luc…" Wesley continues. "I have a feeling there is a lot that I don't know about you that Robert will be more than happy to share!"
I hear a groan next to me and then I see an eye roll, "let's hope he's conveniently forgotten most of it!"
/
"What's that Saoirse?" Wesley points out the window to a stubby palm tree as we drive slowly away from the transport station. It's warm today and the windows are down. From the side mirror of the car I see the reflection of Saoirse seated on Wesley's lap looking out the open window. Her hair wisps in the wind and grin graces her ruddy cheeks. She shakes her head; she's never seen a palm tree.
"Tree" Wes intones. She looks at him and giggles, "twee" she repeats. We've been trying to get her to enunciate her R's, but I think due to her age, the W has firmly taken its place.
My eyes scan the rest of the car as the laughter from the back seat asserts itself like music. Jean Luc looks relaxed, but a hint of apprehension is evident around his eyes. I pry a hand away from the armrest, "Hey" he glances at me.
"Hey," he smiles back as he keeps his attention on the road.
"Why are you nervous?" I ask quietly.
"I'm nervous about seeing them again. It's silly really, Beverly. They're our family. I suppose it's just jitters. I don't want to get into any fights with my brother."
I nod my head. "You wont." I say with certainty. "Three years ago, yes. But you and he are different now, Jean Luc. Everything's changed." I hold on to his hand a little tighter. All he needed was reassurance as the worry lines from his eyes disappear and he's more open to the scene before him.
It's just as perfect as I remember. We've left the city limits and miles and miles of green, rolling hills envelope us. Large, and small homes are surrounded by rows and rows of vineyard. Low-rising rough stone fences demarcate the land between the properties. Colourfully decorated signs indicate the names of the different wineries. Some of the names I've seen, others are lovely oddities that I try to make mental note of.
The sun bleeds in through the open windows of the car and warms my shoulders. I breathe in the choppy air and pick up the subtle smell of violets and lavender. It smells just like I remember and a smile plants itself on my face. We're silent now, even little Aaron who was so fussy not too long ago, as we enjoy the solitude of the road and the sensorial feast before us.
The surroundings are familiar now. I remember this particular winery sign. My French is only intermediate, so I'm not even going to try to pronounce the name. But, its colours are distinctive; it is painted in warm hues of red and gold and a strange symbol is perched in the upper left corner. Now, I see the beginning of the Picard vineyard in the distance and soon enough the grandiose chateau comes into view. Wesley insinuates himself between the two of us between the gap in the two front seats.
"Is that your home?" He asks in wonder.
Jean Luc smiles, "that it is."