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“Wise,” Dexter says simply.
Etienne lifts a shoulder, lets it fall. “Maybe it will be easier for me than it will be for her. After all, I’m the one that needs forgiving, not Ruby.”
“And you think she’ll forgive you?” He watches from his spot on the couch as Etienne continues to pace the room, her footsteps muffled by a rug that runs the length of the hardwood floors.
“Mmmm,” Etienne says, looking thoughtful. “Maybe. Though women rarely forgive such a transgression. They can learn to live with it, but how many women have you known who might truly feel, in their hearts, warmth towards a woman who had a child with their husband?”
Dexter says nothing for a moment. “Ruby is a different breed.”
With a laugh that sounds disbelieving, Etienne stops pacing. “Certainly. But deep down, a woman is a woman.”
There are footsteps on the stairs and Ruby appears in the room, looking back and forth between Dexter and Etienne. “Oh,” she says, sounding slightly breathless. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”
“Not at all,” Etienne says smoothly. She motions at the couch and Ruby sits next to Dexter. “We were just discussing the terms of Mr. North’s stay here in Castelmoron d’Albret. I’m thrilled to have you all here, and you and I have much to discuss, Ruby, but I need confirmation that my life and that of my son won’t simply be used as fodder for a best-selling book.”
Ruby sits back, looking appalled. “Of course not. Your son is a child. Nothing we’re doing is meant to disrupt his life.”
Etienne gives a terse nod. “Thank you.” She pauses before going on. "I understand that you've come here so that we can discuss things about our children and...our situation, but I would prefer that those discussions be completely private." Her eyes flick to Dexter and then back to Ruby. "I'm sure you can understand--as a mother--how important it is to protect our children and their lives."
"Of course." Ruby laces her fingers together and takes a deep breath. "Honestly, I only came so that we could talk about our children. I don't need to know why you did this to my family, nor do I need to tell you how I feel about it. All I need to do is make sure that no matter what happens to us, our kids feel secure about who they are, and that they can have a relationship going forward, should they choose to do so."
Etienne lifts her eyebrows as her fingertips go to her forehead; she's been anticipating this visit for weeks, and the exhaustion of preparing for it mentally is taking its toll. "Of course," she says. "Agreed."
From the kitchen comes the sound of pots and pans and the smell of roasting chicken. Dexter, Etienne, and Ruby sit there quietly for a moment as a small, delicate clock on the mantel chimes four o'clock.
Chapter5
Banks
"Honestly, I only came so that we could talk about our children. I don't need to know why you did this to my family, nor do I need to tell you how I feel about it. All I need to do is make sure that no matter what happens to us, our kids feel secure about who they are, and that they can have a relationship going forward, should they choose to do so," Ruby says, her voice carrying from the sitting room out to the foyer, where Banks has stationed himself.
He sits on a wooden chair beneath a framed, hand-drawn picture of a girl holding an umbrella in a garden. The front door is open and the cool spring afternoon blows in as clouds cover the sun.
Banks sits calmly, waiting.
"Of course," Etienne says from inside the sitting room. "Agreed."
The kitchen is just down the hall from the foyer, and Banks hears a woman who passed by him earlier with a smile and a silent nod as she cooks and prepares a meal with a radio tuned to a classical station as her background noise.
Banks stands and stretches. Ruby is secure in the sitting room, and while he's curious what this visit with Etienne will bring for her personally, he's not overly concerned for her safety at the moment. They're stationed in the tiniest village in the country--quite literally--and so far all Banks has seen are fields, a few cats roaming aimlessly, children, and on their way down the long country road to the village, a man in suspenders ambling slowly with a walking stick in his hand.
Outside the open front door Banks stands on the porch and looks up at the sky: rain. Or at least it will rain soon. He can smell it in the air, and to be honest, it will be refreshing on all counts. There's a stagnant, halting feeling inside the stone farmhouse, and he knows that no matter how much talking Ruby and Etienne do--no matter how many ways they approach their particular situation--nothing will clear the air between them. But at least a good spring rainstorm will clear the air outside of the house.
"Qui es-tu?"
Banks turns his head as a tall, lanky boy of maybe fifteen approaches. He's dressed in jeans and a wrinkled polo shirt with the buttons casually undone. His hair is an unruly mop of brown curls, and he's wearing Converse high-tops so artfully distressed that they look as if he bought them that way.
"Bonjour," Banks says, though he is not the least bit confident about his French.
"Ah, the Americans," the boy says in English, kicking a rock that hits the low fence surrounding the garden. "I remember you."
This doesn't surprise Banks; he'd been around a lot during his years with the President. And though he'd tried to fade into the background whenever Jack had come to France to see Etienne and Julien, being spotted by a curious child had been inevitable. He hasn't seen Julien since Jack's death, which has been nearly two years now.
"I remember you too," Banks admits. "My name is Henry Banks."
Julien walks the rest of the way to the front porch and stops, looking Banks in the eye. In the past couple of years he's grown at least six inches--probably more. "Is my mother in trouble?"
Banks blinks a few times, unsure of how to answer this. It's not really his business, nor should he even be making conversation with Julien, but it seems wrong to be confronted by a child and to be standoffish or not forthcoming.
