Chapter 13 - Sainte Clotilde

Dylan woke the next morning to birdsong and Oscar's gentle snoring. The dog was still spread out between them creating a veritable wall. It seemed possible, Dylan mused, that in another life the dog had been a father with a bunch of girls. His chaperone skills were on point. "You totally killed any chance I had of spooning with her last night, buddy," he whispered as he stroked the dog. But truthfully, Dylan hadn't minded. The last thing the acting president of the true-love society wanted was for Jill to wake the next morning feeling sheepish. Oscar the dog wall had taken care of that. The hour was still early and not wanting to wake Jill, Dylan tucked his hands behind his head and took in his surrounding. Everything looked so different in the early morning light. The cottage the night before, especially as they rode toward it in the storm looked to him like something out a slasher movie, and he'd half expected Gabriel to come at them with a scythe. Dylan had run through his mind all sorts of potential horror-movie like situations they might encounter once inside the cottage and how he was going to protect Jill. But the only thing scary had turned out to be the long white nightshirts Gabriel gave them to change into while they're clothes dried.

The last thing you want to look like in front of the woman you love is Benjamin Franklin going night night.

But the crackle of the fire, the softness of the blankets, Jill propped up on an elbow beside him, all of that had made him forget how silly he looked, and then when she'd kissed him he'd almost forgotten his name. Dylan couldn't say how it worked for everyone, but at least for him, he had never shed the person he was in high school. That kid had stayed with him as he'd evolved and grown, gained confidence, muscles, and a whole lot of money. He was glad for it because it had meant that he'd never lost his sense of wonder over everything he'd been able to accomplish. And that teenage boy was freaking jumping for joy inside him.

Jill Caruthers had pulled him toward her and kissed him, and even though an old guy had been just down the hall and a dog had interrupted the moment, it had still been epic. To be honest, he wouldn't have changed a thing about it. "Absolutely epic," he whispered. Well, the dog. He would have changed the dog.

A shaft of early morning light filtered through the front window, casting all in a lovely glow and allowing him to better see his surroundings. It appeared to Dylan as if while riding through the storm they had traveled back in time. The phone, a black box attached to the wall, looked like it had been installed before the last world war. The most modern thing in the house was an old TV. The front room and kitchen were void of anything that might be considered a woman's touch, but the space was clean, inviting, and the fire, which at some point during the night Gabriel must have restoked, was still crackling and popping in the grate. In this humble dwelling, Dylan Duke had felt himself relax.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so well. Most nights his mind spun like a hamster wheel as he thought of all the things he needed to do to keep his empire growing. He'd tried to slow the wheel down. Acupuncture hadn't helped and meditation had only made him antsy. But there was something about Jill that gave him a sense of calm. And sleeping next to her, even with Oscar wedged between them, had allowed him to fall into a sleep so deep his nightmares, which lately had been about the launch flopping, couldn't find him. Dylan extended his arms and legs in a luxurious stretch then quietly sat up, expecting to see Jill still sleeping, but she wasn't. Lying on her back, she was watching the shadows from the fire dance on the ceiling.

"Hey," said Dylan.

"Hey," said Jill, "I was just thinking that you told me you loved me last night."

"I did," he said, reaching his hand toward her.

Jill laced her fingers with his and rested them on Oscar. "Any regrets?"

"Only the four-legged kind."

"He was a bit of a buzz kill."

As if understanding the slight, Oscar snorted.

Dylan scratched Oscar behind the ear. "We've insulted our host."

"I think he'll forgive us if I feed him under the table."

"Fair point," said Jill, smiling.

"That storm was insane," said Dylan running his thumb across the top of Jill's hand.

"So was that kiss."

"Want another one?" she asked, giving him a mischievous grin.

"What about morning breath?"

"I'm willing to take my chances," she said, and had just begun to lean across the sleeping when Gabriel walked in from the outside, smiling. Oscar shot up to greet his master, whipping Dylan in the face with his tail.

"Bonjour!" said Jill.

"—jour," said Dylan, his disappointment at their being interrupted making it too much to say the whole greeting.

Gabriel, using a lot of hand gestures, talked as he let Oscar out, took off his muddy boots, headed over to the fire and, wearing thick oven mitts, retrieved the pot of oatmeal.

"What do you think he's saying?" asked Jill as they watched him moving his arms wildly.

"I think it has to do with our bicycles. They were stolen. No, broken."

Gabriel made a hissing noise.

"A flat tire! One of our bikes has a flat tire!" she cried with excitement, until what she'd said sunk. "Oh dear, one of our bikes has a flat tire."

"Looks like there's more," said Dylan as Gabriel continued using his hands as he spoke. "He's going to throw our bikes away."

"Dylan, no. He's telling us he's going to help us. He's got a—"

"Wagon with horses!"

"No, a truck, and he's going to give us a ride. Chateau du Mon?" asked Jill. "Have you heard of Chateau du Mon?"

Gabriel frowned and continued "talking."

"He's saying he'll drive us to a town where there's WiFi. But first he wants us to eat breakfast and see his farm," said Jill.

"Did he say anything about his retirement investments?" asked Dylan.

"Ha ha."

"You're good at this," he said.

"And you might need coaching before we ever play Pictionary together."

Dylan leaned forward and kissed her. "Fine by me as long as you're my coach."

After changing back into their clothes, breakfast happened at a leisurely rate. To the oatmeal, Gabriel added fresh berries from his garden, honey and nuts which he served with giant mugs of tea. Dylan announced that he was now a lover of oatmeal. "As a kid I thought it was disgusting."

"Me too," said Jill, taking another heaping spoonful. "The kind of stuff Goldilocks went for, but not ordinary people."

"He's made me a believer," said Dylan, and Gabriel who sat at the table seemed to understand what they were talking about and smiled widely.

Gabriel's cottage was nestled in a valley surrounded by green rolling hills. It was easy to tell that he took great pride in his farm which appeared to to be around fifteen acres. As he showed them around, Gabriel's voice took on a sing-songy quality.

"It feels like we're in a Disney musical," said Dylan as Gabriel, singing/talking, placed a warm egg in his hand.

"Then we should be dancing," said Jill, twirling on the straw floor.

Dylan wasted no time doing the same. He twirled, bowed then offered her his hand, and as they continued to follow Gabriel around the farm as he sang its praises, Jill and Dylan occasionally broke into dance which got Jill laughing so hard she had to stop and rest her hands on her knees. Gabriel either was accustomed to dance moves on his farm or simply didn't care because he never seemed to even notice their silliness, which only added, in Dylan's opinion, to the feeling that they had just entered a movie.

With the bikes and Oscar in the back of Gabriel's truck (not wagon) they made their way into town, the three of them in the cab with Jill resting her head on Dylan's shoulder. It was roughly ten miles to the small town of Sainte Clotilde, not long enough in Dylan's opinion. Once he got into town he would have to face reality, whatever it was. He knew he might discover that the launch had failed and lay offs were necessary. He had always assumed growing up that rich people had it made, that their worries were few and their money secure. But now he understood how vulnerable everyone was. And though he knew it sounded like he was just trying to play the nice guy, he didn't care so much about the money as he did the people. He employed people all over the world. Most he had never met, but he knew they all relied on the income he provided. He didn't want to let them down, and he didn't want to let Jill down. And she would blame herself if things had gone badly. He kissed the top of her head, wishing that he could shield her from anything hard and sad, but then a thought occurred to him. Yes, she'll blame herself unnecessarily because she doesn't understand the complexity of what's at play here, but she would never want to be shielded. She's a nurse for heaven sake! She faces hard things all the time. And wouldn't it be nice, if everything has fallen apart, to have there to talk to, to share in the burden a little. The thought, even though it was a bummer, made him smile a little.

"Psst," she said, her eyes closed.

"Yes?" he asked, the two of them bouncing a little in their seats as the truck rode over cobblestone.

"You told me you loved me last night."

"I did," he said as they passed by the ancient walls of the city. "Are you going to tell me you love me?"

Jill lifted her head and turned to him. "I'm thinking about it. I'll get back to you."

Dylan laughed. "Have your people talk to my people." They kissed, making his voice sound dreamy. "And let me know."

"Will do."

Gabriel stopped the truck in front of a cafe and, using hand gestures, let them know this was where he was dropping them off. They piled out of the truck and grabbed their bikes, and after giving Oscar plenty of scratches behind the ears and taking a few pictures with Gabriel and Oscar, they kissed Gabriel on the cheek, hugged him goodbye and stepped inside the cafe.

Within minutes they were connected to WiFi. Dylan's stomach churned as he opened up a text from Mahalo. At first his reaction appeared to be disbelief, but the truth was quietly, deep inside, Dylan was experiencing a cornucopia of emotions as he read, Launch was beyond successful. Looks like you're now a billionaire! Congrats, bro! We've already busted out the champagne. Where are you?

"Jill," he said, "Ball Baby's launch smashed it!" When she didn't instantly turn around he said it again.

"I heard you," she said, her tone far from the jubilant one he'd been banking on. She turned around, a puzzled expression on her face. "I just looked at my emails."

"Okay," he said, nodding.

"And I have one from University of Florida congratulating me for paying off my student loans."

Dylan slapped his forehead. "I totally forgot. I asked Jameson to look into that for me."

A shadow fell over Jill's face. "You asked Jameson to reach out to my nursing school without talking to me first?"

Dylan took her hands in his. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to offend you." He pulled her rolling chair closer to him. "I was trying to help you."

Jill exhaled, seemingly tinging the air around them with sadness. "I should be grateful."

Dylan pulled her closer. "You shouldn't be anything. You are what you are, and if you're mad that's okay. Like I said, I should have asked you first before talking to Jameson."

Jill stared at something in the distance. "Anyone would be grateful. That was a lot of money, ninety thousand dollars, or it was to me."

"It is a lot of money."

"And yet you parted with it in a snap," she said, her tone flat.

"Jill, I would give you anything."

"I know," she said, "pulling her hands from his, but I worked my way through nursing school and I wanted to work my way through those loans."

"I get it, I get it," he said taking one of her hands in his again, refusing in his heart to let her slip through his fingers again. "Look, we'll talk to the school. Maybe you could create a scholarship with the money you make."

"Why would I do that when in a snap you could give them millions?" she asked, her voice soft. "What was it you were going to tell me?"

"Never mind."

"Dylan," she said, her gaze now piercing him.

He cleared his throat. "It's just that, I heard from Mahalo."

"Did they launch Ball Baby?" Dylan nodded. "And was it a success?" He nodded again. "A huge success?" Another nod. "So what does that mean for you?"

"I'm now," he cleared his throat, "a billionaire now."

Jill's nod was small, almost imperceptible. "Congratulations."

"But it doesn't change anything. I'm still Dylan, the same guy who used to give you his chips during lunch period because he was so nuts about you."

Jill stood abruptly, her hand wresting from his. "I need . . ." she said scratching the back of her head.

"What? What can I get you?" he asked.

"I don't want you to get me anything. I need to go," she said, rubbing her head.

"Go? But where? Jameson is going to be here with a limo."

She pointed to the door. "There's a train station. I think, yeah, I'm going to take the train, it'll give me time to think."

"You want to take the train?" he asked, hurt tinging every word.

Jill nodded.

"Where are you going to go?"

"Paris, like we planned. I just need to do this."

He pulled out his wallet. "Here, let me give you—"

"No, Dylan! I can pay for my own train ticket. I can pay my way. I literally have two grand sitting in my checking account which, until you, had seemed like an accomplishment."

He reached for her, but she moved away. "Jill, it is an accomplishment. Don't touch it."

She kissed his cheek. "See you in Paris," she said and left the cafe.