Double Dealing(46)

"Speaking from personal experience I take it?” I asked, and Francois shook his head.

"No, but Felix can, can't you brother?"

I was shocked and looked up at Felix in the front seat. "Really Felix? I totally can’t imagine that.”

He blushed and glowered at Francois, who laughed quietly. “Maybe another time," Felix muttered. "I could use a drink and a trip to the restroom."

We pulled in and I looked at the map on the gas station wall while Felix did his shopping. I was shocked at the amount of cities and places that I could identify.

After a couple minutes, Felix came out carrying two cans. "It’s cheap plonk, but you might like it,” he said, handing me a can of wine. “Don’t like it too much, though.”

I laughed and toasted Francois as we continued on, and I found that he was right. Once I was relaxed, I got out of my own way and was able to speak a little better. I still didn’t know what I was saying sometimes, but at least it was more enjoyable than the stressful repeating I'd done before.

"Now we just need to get to where you don’t need alcohol in order to relax," Francois said. "Don’t worry, Mama and Syeira won’t be too harsh.”

"Whoa, wait a second. You’re taking me to see your mothers?"

"Of course," Felix said from up front. Looking into the rearview mirror, he saw my eyes and gave me a reassuring smile. "Jordan, you know we told our mothers about meeting you. If anything, they wanted to know why we had to spend the extra weeks in Mexico."

I closed my mouth and looked out worriedly at the French countryside that rolled by. Two hours later, I still worried but was distracted as I looked at the beautiful hills and valley surrounding Valence. Near the center of the Rhone Valley portion of France, it was the dividing line between the northern and southern Rhone and looked like a postcard. It actually looked like you should’ve been shooting a romantic comedy in the streets and among the hills of the town. Francois saw the look in my eyes and smiled. "Welcome to one of your new homes."

I gulped and looked around again, amazed. "This is yours?”

"Well, not the whole city, of course, just a house in the southern outskirts," Francois replied.

I was speechless for the rest of the drive, Felix turning down a dirt road and trundling along for a quarter mile before pulling up in front of an old-fashioned looking farmhouse. "Here we are."

Getting out, I felt like I was in a sort of dreaming wakefulness, the whole experience leaving me stunned like I'd just been smacked in the head by a pillow. I stood in the sunny front yard, staring at the two-story house, a silly grin on my face. "I feel like I've stepped into a fairy tale. Or the French version of The Wizard of Oz. Tell me there’s a barn in the back somewhere."

"There is, but we use it for something else,” Felix said. “You’ll see it later. Come, let’s introduce you to our mothers."

For all of the old-fashioned exterior, the inside of the house was beautifully done, in a rustic style that balanced modern convenience with a simple countryside charm. For a girl who'd spent most of the past eight years in Los Angeles, it was quite different, and wonderfully warming. I could definitely see myself wiling away the days and weeks in this sort of house, surrounded by these two men and the beautiful countryside. Felix led the way to the back of the house, opening the door. "Mama!"

The two women who turned at Felix's voice were stunning, plain and simple. Much shorter than their sons, each of them about five foot five or so. Their thick, wavy black hair hung all the way to their waists, framing faces that showed hints of their sons. They were dressed elegantly, with long flowing wool skirts and cashmere tops that showed both of them kept themselves in great shape.

Both ignored me however, greeting their sons with excited hugs and loud kisses on their cheeks. They shifted from French to another language, which I could only assume was Romani, leaving me totally in the dark as to what was being said. From the facial expressions and tone of voice, it didn’t sound bad.

One of the women turned her eyes to me. I found her scrutiny unsettling, and I had to resist the urge to squirm under her gaze. "Donc ceci est le voleur qui a volé le cœur de mon fils," she said, then smiled and in accented but clear English. "Welcome. I’m Syeira."

When she smiled, all the tension in her eyes evaporated, and I could see the similarities between her and her son. "Thank you. I must say that you both are stunning.”

They both laughed and one came over, giving me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "You’ll do well here," she said, patting my just-kissed cheek. "I am Charani, Francois’s mother."