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She’d been rubbing a wooden spoon under water for some time, and she stopped doing this not to rinse but to look at me, and kept talking.
“She’s lovely. She’s the complete antithesis of Mrs. Gastineau. We made friends. We decided to form a two-girl dinner club. We go out to dinner once a month together, she gets a pick, I get the next pick. She’s been going to some of the restaurants for decades that she’s taken me to, and everyone loves her. Everyone loves her, Wyn. Because she’s that kind of lady.”
“Okay,” I said softly, having no idea what else to say and somewhat preoccupied with how heavy my heart was at hearing what Melly had to say about Estelle.
“He needs to move from here, move in with her. I can take care of Mrs. Gastineau. He needs to get out of here.”
I knew what to say to that.
Or at least what to ask.
And my voice was pitched high in concern when I asked, “How often does this happen?”
Melly shook her head, realized what she was doing with the spoon, rinsed it and handed it to me. “Not a lot, and still too much. It’s the shouting. The slamming doors. The ugly words hurled at him.” She looked at me again. “Was she always like this?”
“She’s never been a warm woman, not even to the kids, though she didn’t hide her love for Guillaume, so no, it’s never been like this. I’ve actually never heard them fight like they did yesterday, and definitely not today.”
She gave a curt nod. “There’s all kinds of abuse, I’m sure you know. She hits him and pushes him and scratches him. But the things she says to him. It’s awful, Wyn. I completely understand why he’s with Estelle. What I don’t understand is why he stays with Mrs. Gastineau.”
“Is she…appropriate with you?” I asked carefully.
“She thinks I’m her ally, and I’ll admit, I make it so she does. I don’t agree with her when she complains about Mr. Gastineau, but I nod and make sounds that she might interpret as that. I do it hoping, if she gets it out with me, she’ll be nicer to him. Or hoping he’ll see I can take care of her, handle her, and he can find some happiness.”
She straightened from the sink, turned fully to me and kept going before I could say anything.
“You know, he isn’t going to be around forever either. Estelle is younger than him. She isn’t, like, some arm candy type of person. She’s in her late sixties. But she has time…they could have time to be happy. Because one thing I know, she’s given up half her life to be with him, having him and not having him, because she loves him more than I’ve ever seen anyone love anybody, except for how much Remy loves you.”
Except for how much Remy loves you.
Estelle loved Guillaume how Remy loved me.
My heart, which I had not yet had the time to bandage together, hurt even more at hearing that.
“And just to be clear, I’ll stay on,” she continued. “I helped nurse her through the last cancer situation. I’ll help this time. She trusts me. She likes me. I’ll never let her think differently. So you can trust me. You and Remy. But Mr. Gastineau…”
She hesitated, then forged on.
“It’s getting worse. And it’ll get even more so. And maybe in a world where things are cut and dried, you can say what he’s done, having two ladies he loves, is the wrong thing. But it isn’t. In this instance, it isn’t. Because…yes, Mrs. Gastineau needs someone just like him to love her despite who she is. And Mr. Gastineau needs someone just like Estelle, who loves him for all that he is.”
I felt the tears welling up, and as Melly watched me, I saw them well up in her too.
To try to put her at ease, my voice slightly husky, I said, “Obviously, we’re going to have to deal with this while we’re here. And I will one hundred percent keep you informed. But I thank you, for me, but also for Remy. I thank you for how you’ve cared for them. Both of them. This has to have been a real trial for you, and it means more than I can say that you stuck by them. Truly, Melly, you have our gratitude. From the bottom of our hearts.”
She gave me a jerky head nod, swallowed and grabbed a dishtowel, muttering, “Do you want some breakfast?”
I allowed the change in conversation and asked, “What did you make?”
“There’s fresh biscuits and gravy, or waffles.”
“Maybe we should move here and help out,” I mumbled.
She cracked a grin at that, which brought me at least a little relief.
“I’m going to go for a waffle,” I decided. “But I’m going to check on Yves and get dressed first. Okay?”
