The trees along the road passed by with an ever-increasing frequency as Bobby pushed down harder on the gas. That bastard, he thought, his knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel.

The other night, Madame Bernard had asked Bobby to invite his father for Sunday dinner. "We should meet your family while they are here," Maria had said over dinner. While Philippe had agreed emphatically, Bobby and Brigitte shared a look. Brigitte had not spent any substantial time with his father and given his father's opinion of Brigitte and her family, Bobby preferred to keep it that way.

But how could he refuse their invitation?

Forcing a smile, Bobby nodded, silently contemplating how disastrous dinner at the Bernard's would be.

However, he would never find out. He extended the invitation to his father, who had responded with a dismissive, "We'll see."

Those words hung as his only response until, on Saturday morning, Bobby finally pressed the issue.

"I don't think so, Bobby," he responded while shuffling through papers on his desk. "I have other things to do on Sunday night."

Bobby knew what his father meant was, 'I have better things to do,' but the last thing he wanted to do was have the same argument with his father. So without another word, Bobby walked out the study, then the house, and got into his car. Brigitte's house was a much nicer place to spend a Saturday than his.

The countryside evaporated into Sainte Claire and soon Bobby was in front of the mechanics shop. He momentarily thought back to the day, almost three months before, when he first pulled up with his flat tire. The time had flown by, and now, in just eight days, he would be on a train. Headed away from Brigitte.

He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to push away the negative thoughts. He would just give his apologies to Brigitte's parents and then enjoy what was left of his time with Brigitte.

He gave the door a cursory knock before opening it. He had expected the normal morning chaos… breakfast laid out on the table, Maria with the paper, Philippe fiddling with something, Brigitte running around trying to get ready before he showed up, but never completely succeeding.

But this morning, it was just Brigitte, alone, still in her nightclothes. She rose to meet him when he walked in, silently grabbing his hand and leading him to her bedroom. Still wordless, she led him over to her unmade bed, pulling him down with her before reclining with him.

Bobby was completely lost, but the somber mood moved him not to speak. Brigitte wrapped herself securely around him. They laid like that in silence for several long moments and Bobby realized he could hear soft voices emanating from her parents' bedroom. Her lips were next to his ear when she finally spoke. "We got a telegram this morning. It was from my Tía Lucía. The Republicans are trying to retake Córdoba. There is heavy fighting and bombing and… and my grandparents' house was hit." Her voice caught and she did not need to explain the obvious: that her grandparents were dead.

Bobby held her tighter, lightly kissing her forehead. "I am so sorry," he whispered.

Brigitte, having slightly composed herself, continued, "My tía and her family were able to get out of the city… which is how they were able to send word, but they don't have any information about any of my mother's other siblings, not to mention her extended family." Suddenly, Brigitte let out a frustrated growl and sat up, slamming her fists down on the bed. "Why would anyone do this?!"

Sitting up as well, Bobby took her again in his arms. "I do not know," he mumbled against her head.

Brigitte pulled back, her eyes slightly red rimmed. "If anyone ever did that to my parents, I would make them pay. I would make someone pay, I swear I would."

From the look in her eyes, Bobby had no doubt she meant it.

They weren't coming back.

Robert announced the news at their usual Monday morning meeting. With the escalating war in Spain, the socialist party win in the French elections in June, and Germany moving into the demilitarized Rhineland earlier that year, it just didn't seem like the right time to be acquiring a steel mill in the northeast of France.

Bobby's father had seemed so calm when he had listed all the reasons that the deal was falling through. But from the first words, Bobby struggled to believe it. Here, he had thought it would just be ten months until he would see Brigitte again.

But now… it could be forever.

All day he thought about it. There had to be a way to ensure that their relationship would continue… that he would see her again. He just could not accept that all he had left was only six days. There had to be a way…

The more and more his thoughts circled, the more only one idea seemed to make sense.

The moment the clock struck five, Bobby fled the mill. He had to get to Brigitte. Speeding down the road towards town, he tried to be calm. Only one thing really mattered: what would Brigitte say?

Parking in front of the garage, Bobby took a deep breath. Just be calm. He opened the door and headed into the house. He quickly found Brigitte in the bedroom. The door was open and he leaned against the frame, watching her wipe her face off with a towel to remove the dirt and grease from her labors that day. He smiled at the sight.

"What do you want to do tonight?" she asked as she began to apply a bit of makeup.

He came up behind her, grasping her tight. "I want to spend time with you. Alone."

She smiled at that. "Our usual place then?" He nodded. Talking one last look in the mirror, Brigitte exited the bedroom. Grabbing a bottle of wine and two glasses she called out to her mother, "Bobby and I are going out. I'll be back by ten."

In an attempt to have some privacy, their 'usual place' had become the courtyard of the castle. It was sheltered both from the wind and from prying eyes. They had even found a place to put the car so it could not be seen from the road.

The summer evening was warm and as soon as they had gotten the blankets laid out on the soft grass, Bobby had felt the overwhelming need to be as close to Brigitte as possible. He'd removed his clothes, and then hers, needing to feel her skin against his.

Soft kisses had turned more passionate and Bobby became reassured that he was doing the right thing. She wants this too, he thought, his hands tracing the curves of her body. The thought calmed him, and he pushed it out of his head for the moment, focusing on Brigitte.

Their kisses soon became frenzied and Brigitte climbed on top of him, moving herself against his body. She lowered her head and began nipping at his neck, alternating light bites with kisses.

He could tell from Brigitte's breathing and the increased pace of her rocking that she was close. He felt it building in himself as well and he longed to slip into her. His fingers had already made that journey, and the combination of Brigitte's warm flesh rubbing against him and imagining what it would be like to finally be inside of her nearly sent him over the edge.

Sitting up, she grabbed his hands and placed them on her breasts. He knew just what she wanted and happily obliged, fingers teasing taut flesh. She sped her hips, finally letting out several loud gasps before collapsing against him.

He held her close, letting her recover from her orgasm. He ran his fingers lightly along her back, causing her to shiver slightly.

"I love you," he whispered. He was very aware of how aroused he was, and how he was still pressed against her, but he tried to ignore it for the moment.

"I love you, too." She kissed him lightly and began to roll off of him when he stopped her, reaching up to take one of her hands in his, caressing her face with the other.

"Brigitte, I want to ask you… I want to ask you something." Now seemed as good a time as any. He didn't think he could keep it inside any longer.

She paused her motion to stare at him. "Sure, what?"

Bobby took a deep breath. "Brigitte, will you be my wife?"

Her world spun and it felt like all the oxygen had been ripped from the air. The words echoed around in Brigitte's head. Will you be my wife? Was he serious? Finally, gathering enough breath to speak, she said, "What?!"

"I… My father announced today that we will not return next summer. He will not buy the mill. And… I love you, Brigitte. I love you and I want to spend my life with you."

Brigitte spoke before he could continue. "So you're proposing? Now?!"

"Yes, I want to make sure that… we will be together."

Brigitte took a deep breath, rolling the rest of the way off Bobby. She grabbed a blanket and threw it over the both of them. Being naked and having this conversation just didn't seem congruent to Brigitte.

She tried to center her thoughts. Bobby had just proposed. Now what? Her first instinct was to say no, that this was insane! The logical part of her brain reminded her that they had only known each other for three months. They were both headed off to university in a matter of weeks. She couldn't marry him now!

Brigitte looked up and began to say all this when she saw the look on Bobby's face. And suddenly she couldn't just say 'no'.

"Bobby…" she trailed off, unable to continue.

"So, no?" The disappointment in his voice broke her heart.

"Not 'no'… just not 'yes'."

It barely made sense to her, so she was unsurprised with Bobby's response. "I do not understand."

Taking a deep breath, she tried to voice her thoughts. "Bobby, this just isn't the right time. I know you're scared that we will never see each other again, but we can still write and visit each other regardless of whether your father buys this mill." She paused. Time for the real blow. "I'm just not ready to get married. It has nothing to do with you, I love you and… and I think I can imagine being married to you someday. But, I can't imagine being married to anyone right now. I'm not ready. I need to go to university." Looking into his eyes she could see the hurt, but she wouldn't, she couldn't, let herself be swayed. "I'm sorry," she finished.

She watched as Bobby took in the information and waited anxiously for him to speak again. "What if we just got engaged? And got married in four years when we are done with university?"

"Five years," Brigitte corrected.

"What?"

"Assuming I pass the grande école exams, my program is five years, not four."

There was another moment of silence. Brigitte reached out and placed her hand lightly on Bobby's face, her thumb affectionately stroking his jaw. "Look, Bobby-"

He cut her off. "I will move to France when I am done and we can get married then. I will find a job doing something and we will spend your last year together in Paris-"

Brigitte pressed a finger against his lips, silencing him. "Bobby, your father not buying the mill doesn't have to change anything. Who knows what is going to happen in the next four years? I'm open to discussing all of this, but I don't want to rush into anything." She paused. "Look, on the day you graduate from Yale, if you still want to marry me, ask me again then. I promise to give you a yes or no answer."

"That will be an expensive telephone call," he joked, lightly kissing the finger that was still on his lips.

She rolled her eyes and withdrew her finger. "I didn't mean literally. And anyway, I don't have a telephone."

Bringing his lips to hers, he kissed her. "I fully intend to ask you in four years. By telegraph or post or however I can get the question to you."

Brigitte smiled, and lightly stroked his face. "And I intend to say yes, in four years."

Brigitte's words caused a torrent of emotion within him. She intends to say yes! In his mind they were engaged, even if it wasn't fully official. He kissed her, rolling on top of her, rubbing against her. He couldn't help but desire more. "Brigitte…" he thought about how to phrase this. "Do you want to… I do not want to… pressure you." It was clear she understood what he wanted, but when she was silent he reiterated, "I can wait. I just want to know your thoughts." He could feel her relax slightly as he clarified.

"I want to have sex with you, Bobby, but I can't afford to get pregnant."

Bobby nodded. "We could use a… I do not know the word. I put it on and… and then… you do not get pregnant."

"A condom." Brigitte provided and Bobby shrugged, as the word was not a cognate. "But where would we get one?"

"I have never bought one before… the pharmacy?" he supposed.

"No, Bobby. I mean, condoms are illegal in France."

Bobby blinked. "What?!"

"Yes, it is illegal to buy them. I mean, maybe we could get them somehow, but—"

Bobby cut her off in English. "This is nuts! Condoms are illegal?! How is everyone not pregnant?!"

He watched as Brigitte looked away from him. "Actually, I asked Simone about that. She… she mentioned some alternatives."

Bobby was about to ask for details when Brigitte kissed him. "Let me show you," she said, kissing a trail down Bobby's stomach. That's when it hit Bobby what she was about to do.

It only took a few minutes of Brigitte's mouth on him to cause him to lose control. The warmth, wetness, and heat…. it was like nothing he had ever experienced.

Spent, he watched as Brigitte spat onto the grass and rinsed her mouth with the wine they brought. "Does it taste bad?" he asked.

"Well, it doesn't exactly taste good…" she admitted. He instantly felt bad. Brigitte must have noticed as she quickly said, "It's fine, Bobby. I wanted to do that for you. It was fun listening to you moan like that." She kissed him and whispered into his ear. "Not to mention arousing."

Rolling her onto her back, he began moving his kisses down her body. "I can help with that."

Spreading her legs, he landed one final kiss that caused Brigitte to gasp. Bolstered, he continued, wanting to give Brigitte as much pleasure as possible in the little time they had left.

"You're late."

This was not news to Bobby. He paused in front of his father's study. "Yes, I'm sorry. Things… took longer than I expected."

Surprisingly, his father just nodded. "Ah, I see. Well, I'm glad you took care of it, finally."

What? Bobby tried to parse what his father could possibly mean by that. A part of him wanted to just agree and walk upstairs. However, he couldn't leave it alone. "What do you mean?"

"Breaking up with Bridget. I'm glad you finally took care of it. Now you'll have more time to help me close up the house."

Bobby stood there, not really sure what to say. His father was assuming he and Brigitte broke up. Again. What part of 'Dad, I love her' was not clear? I'm just going to have to set him straight. He walked in to the study and sat down across from his father. How to begin…

"Dad, how old were you when you and Mom got married?"

Robert's head shot up. "Twenty seven. Why?"

"Isn't that a bit old?" Bobby asked, evading the question.

"Maybe. But I had to establish myself first."

From his father's expression, Bobby knew he was suspicious of this line of questioning. But he continued. "And when did you know you were in love with Mom?"

His father took a deep breath. He then sat back in his chair, watching his son. "You didn't break up with her, did you?"

Busted. "No, I did not."

"So what, are you two getting married now?"

Wow, that was close to the mark, Bobby thought. "No. But we are going to continue dating."

"Jesus, Bobby, I was joking. Just how do you plan to maintain this relationship from halfway around the world?" Robert's voice was laced with condescension.

"Dad, we can write and we will see each other next summer."

His father paused for a moment, before leaning forward and placing his arms on the desk. "And how exactly are you going to do that? I didn't realize that being a mechanic in a small town meant you earned enough money to travel the world."

"No, I would pay, either for her to come to New York or for me to come here."

"And whose money are you planning to use? Because I can tell you now it's not mine."

Bobby felt his blood start to boil. "I worked all summer! I have some money stashed away!"

Robert looked like he was about to shout back when he suddenly stopped. "You know what, Bobby? I'm done discussing this. When we get home, you can discuss it with your mother. I'm going to leave this domestic affair in her hands."

Bobby's frustration turned to elation. His mother would surely understand. He would tell her about how amazing Brigitte was and how he loved her. He was sure that, in the end, his mother would allow the travel.

Robert's words brought Bobby back into the moment. "But I really do need your help closing up the house. Bridget can come here and help you pack if you really must spend every moment with her."

Bobby smiled. "Yes, okay. I'll start tomorrow." Bobby rose, and started out the door, but turned before he was completely out. "And dad, it's Brigitte, not Bridget."

"Brigitte! Are your parents home?"

Brigitte set down her wrench and turned. "Um, Papa is out on a service call and I don't know where Mama is." Simone looked about ready to burst with whatever she had to say. "Why? What is it?"

"I'm pregnant!"

Brigitte's eyes went wide. "Are we happy or sad?"

"Happy! Very happy!"

Simone's smile was contagious, and Brigitte found herself grinning as well. "Well, then congratulations! I'd hug you, but…" she gestured to her grease covered clothes and hands.

"I couldn't wait to tell you. I'd been feeling off, and then I realized my period never came last month. So, this morning I went to the doctor, and was able to tell Jean the good news at lunch! So you're the first to know!"

"Well, I'm honored. Are you telling everyone?" Brigitte asked, leaning against the car she had been working on.

"No, not until it's further along. Because… you know, things can go wrong. So we are just going to tell a couple of people, our parents, you…"

"My parents?" Brigitte asked.

Simone bit her lip. "Probably not. Your father is a bit of a gossip."

Laughing, Brigitte shook her head. "He really is. Well, your secret is safe with me… but can I tell Bobby?"

Simone nodded. "As long as he keeps it to himself. But I don't know who he would tell, other than your parents."

"He can keep a secret." Brigitte paused. "So, Simone, I have to ask. I thought you told me that you and Jean weren't trying to have kids just yet."

Simone looked down, sheepishly. "Remember how I told you that pulling out isn't reliable? Well, now I'm living proof."

Suddenly, Brigitte was gladder than ever that she had not slept with Bobby. "Oh. But you're happy anyway?"

Simone grinned. "I really am! Far happier than I would have expected. I mean, I knew I wanted a baby someday, but I just… wasn't ready to accept the responsibility. But he… or she, is coming no matter what. And it is a little scary, but I'm really excited for this next part of my life. I mean, I have a great husband, we have a good place to live… If now isn't the right time, when is?"

"Right… when is…" Brigitte uttered.

Simone's brow furrowed. "Brigitte… what's up? That was a quick change of mood."

Brigitte heaved a sigh. "Nothing. This is about you, Simone. So… any ideas for a name?"

Simone shot Brigitte a look. "Don't 'nothing' me. Is this about Bobby leaving?"

Knowing Simone wouldn't be satisfied until she had the details, Brigitte explained. "Bobby proposed Monday night."

Simone's eyes went wide. "What?! And you're just now telling me?!"

"Well, I said no."

"Still! You're just now telling me?!" Simone's hands were on her hips as she glared at Brigitte.

"Since I said no, I thought it wasn't that big of a deal! I told him to ask me again when we're done with university. That I would tell him yes or no then. But…" Brigitte paused, staring off into space for a moment. "Just when you said, 'if not now, when?' It made me think. Is going to school for five more years really what will make me the happiest?"

There was a moment of silence. "Brigitte, really? You've been working for this for most of your life and you've only known Bobby for three months. I mean, he's a great guy, but, you have to go to university. If he wants to quit and come to France and marry you, fine, but you're going to that damn university. I won't let you not go!"

Brigitte chuckled. "Well, that was my train of thought when he asked. Except I won't let him quit university either. But looking at how happy you are— What if something happens? What if I lose this chance?"

Simone stopped her from continuing with a wave of her hand. "Brigitte, you have your whole life ahead of you. Everything will work out the way it's meant to. If you and Bobby are meant to be together, you will be together."

Brigitte nodded. "Yeah, if it's meant to be…"

Bobby glanced at his watch. 12:10 p.m. He had only seven minutes left with Brigitte.

The night before, he'd had dinner with her and the extended family. He could hardly believe that Madame Bernard had invited all the aunts, uncles, and cousins to his farewell dinner. And he was even more shocked they all had come. As he had sat there, trying to keep up with the rapid French that was flung here and there across the room, he became more and more upset over having to leave this… family. But he tried to keep a happy face on, not wanting to spoil the evening.

He'd walked into his empty house at nearly one in the morning. However, his father had left the day before, needing to be in Paris for meetings before leaving France for good. So for once, Bobby didn't have to worry about a lecture.

At eleven the next morning, a little bleary eyed, he'd met Brigitte and her parents at the café next to the train station. They'd sipped coffee and tried to keep the conversation light. But he kept looking at Brigitte, who was unnaturally quiet. He noticed how she hung on to his hand, as though it were a lifeline.

Around noon, after saying goodbye to her parents, he and Brigitte made their way to the platform, alone.

Bobby had no words. He just took her in his arms and felt his eyes start to well up. Blinking furiously, he kissed her lightly on the head, running his fingers through her hair. "I love you, Brigitte," he murmured against her head.

"I love you, too," she said, her voice muffled by his chest.

"You will write to me?"

"Every week. And we will see each other next summer?"

Bobby chose not to relay his father's thoughts on the subject. "Yes."

Silent again, they held each other. The train whistle blew, and the conductor shouted, "Five minutes to departure."

Bobby pulled back from the hug and took Brigitte's face in his hands. He kissed her. It seemed to last both an eternity and an instant. When they parted, he could see the water in her eyes. He felt the same way. "I promise to ask you again in four years."

"I can't wait."

The conductor's voice rang out through the station. "All aboard!"

Bobby's hands involuntarily tightened around her hand even as he said, "I should go."

After one last kiss he tried to walk away, but he found his hand would not let go of hers. He shared a long look with her, before squeezing her hand and finally freeing her. "I will see you soon."

"It's only ten months."

Bobby nodded. "Only ten months." Forcing himself to turn away, he climbed up onto the train. He turned back and saw Brigitte, standing alone on the platform. He tried to burn the image of her into his mind.

The train started to move. Brigitte stood still, waving. He waved back. As his car passed the edge of the platform, he saw her turn away to leave the station.

As he watched her disappear, her voice echoed in his head.

It's only ten months.

The End of Part 1