Page 12 of The Magic of Provence (A Year in France #3)
The soft drape of greenery from the forests that cloaked the hills and valleys of so much of the land in this part of France had, so far, been simply a part of the view – to be admired as a backdrop, along with the baby mountains guarding the medieval villages and the wash of blue that both the sky and the Mediterranean Sea contributed.
That changed forever shortly after Fi climbed out of Christophe’s Jeep SUV that he’d parked by a cemetery that seemed to be about halfway between Tourrettes-sur-Loup and Vence.
He let Heidi out of the back seat and then opened the tailgate, where they’d stowed equipment in the cargo hatch.
Fi carried her farrier’s apron and tool bag and Christophe put a pack on his back and picked up a cooler bag.
‘I have drugs I might need, like antibiotics or a sedative,’ he told her. And then he smiled. ‘And our lunch, of course.’
Ohh …
That smile …
Fi couldn’t hold his gaze for more than a heartbeat. She had waited by the gate to be picked up this morning wondering what on earth had made her think it was a good idea to go somewhere she had never been before, in the company of a man she barely knew.
This was crazy, wasn’t it?
She had hoped to get away from the tension in her family and dodge the triggers lurking in memories of the violence in her childhood, but could this really be a reprieve? Was it too late to change her mind?
Yes. She would be letting Christophe down if she took back her offer to help. She wanted to help. Okay… maybe what she really wanted was to use her skills to earn more praise from someone who could appreciate how good she was at her job.
Someone who was so outrageously charming and attractive that being good at what she did was the only way she could make an impression?
Not that she wanted him to notice her in any other way, of course. It was just nice to feel as if her company was wanted. Needed.
Feeling as if she was wanted was like a hug for her soul. What did it matter if it was for something she was good at doing rather than her personality traits or how she looked? This was vastly preferable, in fact, because it wasn’t threatening. What was wanted was something she could provide.
And it could, for just a blink of time, silence that toxic mantra that could slither out of nowhere in her head.
Who’d want you…?
She’d taken a deep breath and reminded herself of her confidence that she was safe with this man. His dog adored him. Ellie and Julien considered him to be one of the family. They knew where she was and who she was with.
And this couldn’t be anything other than purely professional.
Good grief, Fi was wearing her shapeless dungarees that still smelled of donkey from her grooming and pedicure session with Marguerite and Coquelicot.
The practical garment made her look even chunkier than she actually was and, in case that wasn’t enough to put anyone off, she had tortured her hair into two braids to keep it out of her face and the tight pigtails stuck out enough to make her look like Pippi Longstocking.
She could still feel her heart rate increase, however, as they walked away from the vehicle and onto a track that led into the forest. A small bus that had been parked closer to the cemetery gates drove past behind them and it felt as if the possibility of other people being in the vicinity was also vanishing.
Heidi seemed to know exactly where she was going and Christophe increased his pace a little to keep up with his dog.
Their distance from Fi was increasing and the light was changing as she walked under the canopy of oak trees that looked as if they could be hundreds of years old.
It took only a very short time, with twigs, acorns and dry leaves crunching under her boots, and looking up to see streaks of sunlight dancing amongst green leaves and lighting up patches of bark on the trunks and branches, to feel as if the rest of the world had been left behind.
That she was walking into a magical space.
A soft whistle from Christophe stopped Heidi disappearing around a bend ahead, and he slowed, waiting for Fi to catch up.
‘ ?a va ?’
It had only taken a couple of days of being amongst French people to learn the ubiquitous query of whether someone or something was okay and how to respond.
‘ Oui, merci ,’ she said. ‘ ?a va bien .’ Then she needed to switch back to English. ‘It’s so beautiful in here.’
‘We love it. We walk here for an hour or two every day that we don’t go up into the mountains. It’s one of the reasons I love to live here. I could never count the number of beautiful places there are to walk, but it’s special to be able to spend a whole day in this part of the forest.’
‘It’s so peaceful.’
‘It will be more peaceful if I stop talking,’ Christophe said. The way he wrinkled his nose to suggest that he wasn’t happy with himself was…
…cute? Fi could have reassured him that he was not spoiling the ambience. That she liked the sound of his voice and that unique accent he had. She even opened her mouth to say something but the words evaporated before they could reach any air.
‘It will be like…’ Christophe waved a hand in the air. ‘What do they call it in Japan? A bath in the forest?’
‘Forest bathing.’ Fi nodded. ‘I’ve heard of that.’
But she had always been aware of the physical and emotional benefits of getting close to nature.
As a typical middle child, she’d been content with her own company, especially after Laura had become so infatuated with Ellie she almost took over the role of a second mother.
Trees, meadows and animals had been Fi’s refuge as she’d negotiated the turbulence of tween and teenage years, and her best days had been a combination of all those things.
As she walked in Christophe’s company with nothing more than the sound of their footfalls and the call of birds to break the silence it brought back a treasured memory.
She’d finished the after-school chores at the riding school, which was how she earned her lessons and time with the ponies, and she’d ridden Whisky into the nearby woods on a sunny, spring afternoon when the bluebells were in flower.
She couldn’t remember what sort of trees they were under, but maybe they had been oaks as well, because it had looked exactly like this when she’d tipped her head back.
So many trees, growing so close to each other that the ends of their branches were entangled, as if they were holding hands.
Dark trunks and then branches and then twigs were like visible arteries and veins of an enormous living entity, and the sparkles of sunlight shifting in and out of the leaves made it come to life as if it was wearing a ballgown covered with shiny gold sequins.
Fi could almost smell the woodsy, floral perfume of a carpet of bluebells.
She could definitely feel the touch of the happiness she remembered of knowing that nothing else could be quite as perfect as her world was in that moment.
It was enough to make her sink into simply enjoying this walk, and that, in turn, dissolved any tendrils of awkwardness that could have sprouted from walking with someone else in complete silence.
By the time they reached their destination, being in Christophe’s company had, in fact, earned the familiarity of something that she wouldn’t hesitate to choose to do again.
The delight of finding more than a dozen donkeys standing between the trunks of the huge trees was the icing on an unexpectedly delicious cake.
Like Marguerite and Coquelicot, these donkeys were small – no more than about ten hands high – and they were shaggy.
They were all shades of grey and brown with the distinctive black cross of Jerusalem donkeys that ran down the length of the spine and tapered to a point as it draped over both shoulders.
Their muzzles were white and those extraordinary ears were filled with soft, pale hair but outlined as darkly as the cross on their backs.
As dark as all those eyes that were staring at them, some half-hidden by heavy fringes.
‘ Fermo ,’ Christophe said to Heidi, pointing at the base of one of the trees outside the electric fence enclosure for the donkeys. The huge dog immediately lay down, kicking one back leg out and putting her nose on her front paws.
‘We’ll put a halter on two donkeys to start with,’ he told Fi. ‘And tie them up beside each other. If you can help with the first examination, you can do the hooves while I check the next one. It’s what works for me and Didier. Is that okay with you?’
‘Perfect. That way they’ll get used to me being here instead of Didier.’ Fi scanned the group and noted one donkey standing at some distance from the rest. ‘Are they all okay with being handled?’
Christophe could see where she was looking. ‘I’ll check the photographs I have but I think that donkey is new to the herd, so I don’t know him. Or her. Some are a little…’ Christophe was searching for a word. ‘ Ansioso ? Anxieux in French.’
‘Anxious?’
‘Ah… c’est ca. Merci .’ There was a twinkle in his eyes. ‘Sometimes there are too many languages in my head and they bump into each other.’
Fi ducked her head. He was seriously charming, this man.
‘That’s okay… I have treats that might help me make friends with them.’
‘Treats?’
‘Ginger biscuits. My mother loves them with a cup of tea, so she always brings a couple of packets with her. And I have Polos.’
‘I remember Polos from being in England. They are peppermints, yes?’
Fi nodded. She reached into her pocket and brought out a tube of the mints. ‘I’d heard that donkeys love peppermints and ginger biscuits and I tested the theory when I came over at Christmas and went to meet Marguerite and Coquelicot.’