A Bordeaux Dynasty: A Novel (77 page)

Panicked, she tried in vain to come up with an argument that could shake Jules’s will. Bitter and pathetic, she finally said, “You’re not asking for my opinion. You’re just trying to convince me to accept a fait accompli. …”

“No,” he replied, softly. “I need you. I have to know if you’re fine with this, deep down, and if you’re going to be able to love him.”

“What does it matter? You’re going to love him for the both of us!”

Lucie-Malvoisie was only a few weeks old. Already she wasn’t Jules’s eldest child anymore. At the thought of that, Laurène became really angry.

“And what about our baby? Have you thought of her?”

“I figure you can take care of two children? There’s Dominique and Fernande to help you out. And if you’d like to hire someone …”

“You’ll do anything for this, won’t you?”

He sat next to her and whispered, “Yes. … Anything and everything. And this adoption is going to cost a lot. …”

At this point, he’d decided to be completely frank with his wife, to tell her everything.

“I don’t have any choice, Laurène. What Aurélien did for me, I now have to do for that child. Part of Fonteyne rightfully belongs to him. I’ve been so happy here, but I wouldn’t be anymore if I didn’t bring back that child.”

She had nothing to say. Her feelings for Jules were so strong they prevailed over everything else. She knew how to fight to keep him, but she couldn’t fight him. She accepted her own unhappiness to protect her husband’s well-being.

February 1 was a Tuesday, a cold and dry day in Paris. Robert and Pauline had invited Jules for lunch at
Taillevent
. As Jules hadn’t been in the capital for a few years, Robert wanted to take him out in grand style.

Jules thought that Pauline had changed, less cheerful and radiant than usual. He knew through Louis-Marie that the divorce procedures were under way. He only picked at his turbot, preoccupied as he was by his appointment at the hospital later that afternoon. The papers needed for the adoption, signed by Marc and Laurène, were in his briefcase. He hadn’t asked Laurène to come along with him, guessing that she wouldn’t feel up to it. Child welfare hadn’t made trouble, as it was in the child’s best interest to find himself in his new family as quickly as possible. Moreover, the Laverzacs clearly offered an ideal home environment, and every comfort. Lastly, Robert had used his influence to accelerate the process.

Jules had boarded the plane that very morning, leaving his car in the Bordeaux airport parking lot. He wanted to be alone when he returned to Fonteyne with the child.

Anxious, nervous, he only half-listened to Robert during lunch. His brother realized that Jules couldn’t wait to see Julien, and so he cut the meal short. Pauline, who’d visited the baby three or four times, described him as a happy but sometimes petulant child. She said that the doctors and nurses had been exemplary, making Julien the pediatric ward’s darling.

In order to facilitate things, Robert had borrowed a colleague’s automobile, which was the size of a limo. On their way to the hospital, Jules tried to give his brother some information concerning the financial state of the Château-Fonteyne Company, but Robert interrupted him, saying that everything Jules did and decided was perfect with him. If Julien was Aurélien’s son, he said, the four brothers would have to share the financial responsibility of raising him. Otherwise, they’d have all kinds of time to talk money. When Pauline asked whether he was going to go for a paternity test, Jules replied that he didn’t see the immediate need for that. According to Robert, this type of testing didn’t yield definite results. It could determine, without fail, that a child was not the son of a specific man, but that was all.

Their arrival in the maternity ward didn’t go unnoticed. The head of the hospital was there, as well as a Department of Health representative. First, there were the administrative formalities to take care of. Then a psychologist came to speak to Jules but, impressed by Dr. Laverzac’s presence, he expedited the procedure. Then, they made their way to Julien’s room.

On the threshold, Jules saw four infants lying in their cribs. He didn’t hesitate for a second. Turning to Robert, he pointed at one of them.

“Is that him?”

Robert nodded and let Jules walk alone toward the crib. Jules stopped and looked at the little being that was from that moment on going to be part of his life. Right away he fell in love with the large, gray eyes, so much like Frédérique’s. For a second, the two of them made visual contact, and Jules smiled, and the baby began to babble happily.

Robert watched his brother and was flooded with emotions. The nursery attendant, who’d been holding her breath, handed Pauline a bag, telling her that it contained all that they would need for the trip.

Jules bent over the crib, delicately picked up the baby, and rested him against his chest. With his free hand, he caressed the child’s neck and soft hair, before grabbing the teddy bear on the pillow.

“Hi there,” he whispered. “Don’t be scared. I’m taking you home.”

The psychologistand the pediatrician, standing next to Robert, were both struck by Jules’s quiet poise, the natural way in which he handled the baby, the trust that already seemed to be building between father and adopted son. Everyone stood aside to let Jules walk out of the room with his baby. Pauline and Robert followed them down the hallway in silence.

Jules did something nobody had expected, booking a room at the Hotel Novotel when arriving in Bordeaux. Laurène, informed of that by a short phone call, supposed that her husband wanted to spend some time alone with the baby to get used to him. In fact, Jules spent most of the night watching Julien sleep.

In the hotel lobby, a young woman on the staff had spontaneously offered to help him, moved by this solitary father with the irresistible smile. But he’d turned her down, saying he’d do all right by himself and asking that his dinner be sent up to his room. As for the rest, he already knew how to prepare a bottle, heat up a bit of pureed ham, and change a diaper.

He thought a lot during that long night. Beyond the adoption, a special bond existed between Jules and Julien, a common experience. This child had seen his mother die, just like Jules. He would never remember it, but he’d grow up with that tragedy in his subconscious. Just as Jules had.

A sense of duty had little to do with Jules’s decision to come. It was his infinite love for Aurélien that had brought him to this hotel room. And through the years, he would always be looking for Aurélien in Julien’s traits.

They left the hotel at seven in the morning. The child got fussy when Jules put him in the Mercedes’ baby car seat, but he calmed down once they were on the road. They arrived at Fonteyne just before eight, as Jules had hoped. He brought the car to a stop in the driveway, knowing that Bernard would take care of it. Julien, in warm clothes and resting in the crook of his father’s arm, went on a tour of the vineyards. Jules muttered a litany of soothing words addressed to the baby, as well as to the vines. He was introducing Julien to Fonteyne, as its future heir.

Jules wound up sitting between two rows of plants, the child on his knees. Immediately, Julien went for the soil and grabbed a piece of gravel with his tiny hand.

“You’re right,” Jules said. “That’s what makes this soil so rich. I’ll teach you all about it. You want to eat it? No, Julien, no. … It’s the best soil on earth, but you don’t eat it. You drink it. … You’ll understand. …”

Jules grabbed Julien’s hand and slowly got up.

“I’m going to show you your house. … Look. It’s like a castle in a fairytale. If we’d arrived last night, you wouldn’t have seen any of it. … And now you’re going to meet your little sister. When you’re older, you’re going to have to protect her, as a big brother. …”

He raised his eyes to his bedroom window and added, a bit hesitant, “Let’s go. Your mom must be waiting for us.”

He’d caught site of Laurène’s silhouette in one of the windows before it disappeared. She’d backed up in a hurry, shutting the velour drapes in one brisk motion. For the past ten minutes, at least, she’d been watching him, tears of powerlessness and anger streaming down her cheeks. She’d even used some binoculars to torture herself that much more, noting every detail of every move Jules made. As she’d expected, he was already crazy about that boy. And all he was going to give him would be taken away from Lucie-Malvoisie. For weeks he’d been affectionate with his daughter, but never had he displayed this expression of pride she saw on her husband’s face this morning, this look of absolute love, this startling complicity. Observing Jules without his knowing it, Laurène began to realize the full scope of the unbearable ordeal that awaited her. If she decided to turn her back on that baby, they would all endure twenty years of hell. And so she had no choice but to accept the situation. Or, worse, to pretend like she did.

Jules briskly walked into the kitchen, startling Fernande. Lucas was drinking coffee, sitting at the far end of the bench, as usual. Jules put down his bag on the long table, opened it, and took out a feeding bottle. Fernande looked at him, frozen in place, not able to move or say a word. Though she’d prepared herself for this, the sudden presence of this baby terrified her.

“His name is Julien,” Jules said, as he started to heat up some milk.

Finally snapping out of it, Fernande walked over to Jules and reached out for the baby.

“Here,” she said, “let me take care of him.”

She understood that someone else, right this minute, had to take charge of that baby, or Jules would never let him go. She was certain of that. He hesitated for only a second before handing her the baby, who started to cry with fear. Jules poured a drop of milk on the back of his hand and gave Fernande the bottle. Julien hungrily sucked on the nipple.

“He’s got beautiful eyes,” Fernande said.

She meant it, the baby truly was magnificent. Before leaving Fonteyne, the day before last, Jules had taken Fernande aside to tell her everything. She loved the family too much and was too good-hearted not to feel for Jules and everybody else involved. Unlike Laurène, she had no reason to feel jealous. She didn’t care whether Julien was Aurélien or Jules’s son since, either way, he was part of the family. She was ready to love and help raise him, as she’d done for the other Laverzac boys.

The kitchen door opened and Laurène appeared. She was wearing jeans and a sweater. She hadn’t put on any makeup, and Jules saw that she’d been crying. She tried to give him a smile, without really pulling it off. Fernande glanced in Jules’s direction. He was waiting, still, looking worried. He didn’t make a move toward his wife, and it was Laurène who finally took the first step.

“I’ll feed him,” she said to Fernande, her voice shaky. “I’m used to it. …”

She sat on the bench and Fernande rested Julien in her arms. Laurène recoiled a bit before holding the baby, and then grabbed the bottle.

“He’s heavy,” she said, looking at no one. “And tall, too. It feels funny. …”

Lucas stopped reading his paper to lift his head for a moment. He took in the scene, and then started reading again. Fernande’s eyes didn’t leave Laurène. She knew that Jules was also watching her closely. What Fernande saw, she couldn’t really tell Jules. What she saw was Lucie Laverzac, some thirty years earlier in this very same kitchen, holding a child with the same reticence, the same clumsiness. Lucie had never gotten used to Jules. She’d pretended, for Aurélien’s sake. She’d pretended to love, without feeling anything. Laurène looked so much like her at this very moment that Fernande had to lean against the table. There were some things she didn’t want to relive. She was too old for that.

Jules walked around the table and stood next to his wife. He gently put a hand on her shoulder.

“Everything is going to be all right,” he whispered.

But, as Fernande had feared, Jules didn’t look at Laurène as he said it. He looked at Julien.

All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © Belfond, a division of Place des Éditeurs, 2010
First published in France as
Les Vendanges de Juillet
followed by
Juillet en Hiver

Cover design by Andrea C. Uva

978-1-4804-4223-8

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