The Accidental Mistress

chapter Seventeen

Two Weeks Later -

The road to recovery was a silent one. Claude Baptiste had said barely a few words since his release from the hospital. He was now forced to spend his days in a wheelchair. The doctors said he would need patience, but could recover, if he chose too. Her father had no desire to do anything but sit and stare. Their days were filled with making sure Claude Baptiste’s diet was right, his medicine was taken, and his needs were met before he could verbalize them. Zuri, in particular, went above and beyond. From his physical therapy to his entertainment, old American western's she kept on rotation in his DVD player, she was always there to do whatever she could. It gave her mother a much-needed break.

Her father's silence was torture. It got so bad that her mother took pity on her and sent her to the Oasis to make sure things were running smoothly under the management she and Joi appointed. She couldn't stay there long. Everything reminded her of Christophe.

"Why are you sitting in the dark?"

Zuri looked up at her sister. "I think I'm going back to Chicago."

"When?" Joi asked.

"After I talk with père. I'm not sure I'm helping here. The Oasis is up and running as it should. Without Detrick's interference, it should be okay. You've got Jean Pierre helping manage the legal affairs. Detrick Chevalier is under investigation for the theft he's done to all of his clients. Père won't be audited. Things are as they should be."

"Things are not. Have you called him?" Joi asked, dropping her hands to her hips.

"Who?" Zuri mumbled softly.

"You know who. Christophe Montague. Have you called him?"

"It's over. After the things I said to him, he wouldn’t want to speak to me."

"Zuri, why did you do this? It's as if you’re punishing yourself for falling for the guy. If you cared for him, you should have fought for him."

"I signed a deal that said differently. You know the reasons why."

Joi threw her hands up in defeat. "The problem is, Zuri, no one asked you to. If you're miserable, then change it. Don't wait another year or so and fill your life with a bunch of regrets. It's not too late."

"Look at you. What makes you so wise." Joi didn't share in the joke. Her voice sounded as tired as Zuri felt about the subject of Christophe Montague. They'd talked it to death after he left and the tears stopped flowing. Neither wanted to dredge it up again.

"I'm not wise. I just want to do for you what you've done for us. I want you to be happy again." She turned and left. Zuri watched her sister disappear out of the door. She had no one to blame but herself. But what was done couldn't be undone. No matter how much she wished differently. Christophe was gone.

***

Christophe opened the door for Davis. He wiped his hand over his worn t-shirt then headed back through the narrow open spaces between three-foot tall cardboard boxes. "Careful where you step, I broke a vase and a glass. I'm terrible at this."

"Wow, you packed it all up yourself? Why not hire someone to do it?"

"Didn't take long. I have the movers coming for this later today. Besides I'm on a budget," Christophe mumbled under his breath. He picked up his open bottle of water and drank the rest. Davis looked quite funny in his suit trying to step around the clutter. "Do you have the papers?" Christophe asked.

"Your mother's putting up an hell of a fight. She actually thinks she can force you to stay. She's even threatened to do it legally, which we advised against. The media attention would hurt Montague."

"We both know she won't tolerate that."

Davis nodded.

"Give me the papers," Christophe said.

"You do understand that after this is final, you sever all ties with the Montague trust. Your inheritance, all of it's gone. She's cutting you out of her will, too. We're talking billions of dollars here, Christophe."

"I have enough money to get by. The Montague money has never given me anything but misery. I understand why my father walked away from it, from her."

"Still you need to consider this a bit further—"

"I want this over." Christophe snapped. He crushed the plastic water bottle, now drained dry, and tossed it to the top of a box. "The papers, Davis. Hand them over."

Davis lifted his hand from his side and held out his freedom papers. Christophe snatched them with a smile. He nearly leaped-frog over the nearest box and dropped on the sofa. Dragging the glass coffee table to him, he used the pen that Davis handed him to sign away his life. "What about Elliot? I hear he's stepping up to the mission? He'll be the next great Montague Tycoon."

"Haven't heard from the board on his appointment. They’re still in shock over losing you."

Christophe nodded. He passed the signed documents back to his attorney. "It's done. Oh, and give my mother this." He picked up the envelope he had addressed to Stephanie. Words he never had the courage as a boy to say. Whether she understood his reasons for cutting her out of his life or not, he wanted the goodbye he deserved. After this letter, he'd never think of her again. Next to it was the letter he wrote to Zuri.

Davis stuffed Stephanie’s message into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. "Have you spoken to her?"

"Mother?"

"Zuri Baptiste."

Christophe followed his line of vision. He picked up Zuri's letter. He said plenty to Zuri Baptiste, but not directly. The letter in his hand had been written and rewritten six times. After her rejection, he poured his soul out to Davis on the flight back from Martinique. He had to unburden himself. He had never been so disillusioned. "This letter will say everything left between us."

"You know your mother scared her."

"It doesn't matter. She made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with me. Makes me wonder if it was all in my head. That time with her, was more different than with other women. F*ck it. It probably was all in my head. What the hell do I know about love?"

"I've been married for twenty years, Christophe. I know a little about love. You got it bad for her."

Christophe smiled. "Maybe. I want to thank you," he said rising, and extended his hand. Davis shook it and nodded.

"Where will you go?"

"Can I trust you to keep it confidential?"

"When have you not been able to trust me?"

Christophe slapped Davis on his shoulder. "Got a place I've kept stashed for years. Beautiful cabin by a lake in a small mountain town called Bethel Ridge. It's in Georgia. I think I might go there. Get back into my writing, figure the rest out later. I need a sabbatical."

"If you need anything more—"

"I'm okay." Christophe let go a deep sigh. "I'm free," he said. He walked Davis out and promised to keep in contact. Alone again in his loft penthouse, he withdrew the letter to Zuri from his back pocket of his Bermuda shorts. He wanted to call her, to tell her again what was in his heart, but he had his pride. The letter was the goodbye he should have been brave enough to fight for in Martinique. Tossing it to the top of an open box, he went in search of his packing tape. He'd drop the letter in the mail on his way out.


***

Zuri knocked on her father's door. Nanette was downstairs talking with the cooks. There would be a family dinner in Claude's honor. Many have stopped by wanting to see him for weeks; like he was some sideshow freak they had to be able to say they saw up close. Zuri and Joi ran interference. This dinner was something her mother said should happen.

"Père? Are you up?" she eased the door open.

Her steps were slow and quiet, and she entered the rom. He was in his wheel chair, facing the open deck doors. Her mother said that he could wheel it from their bedroom to the suite outside of it. He was improving in private, though when Zuri saw him he looked the same.

"Can I talk with you?" she asked shyly. She hadn't braved a conversation with him since he opened his eyes. The day he arrived home, Zuri crept in his room. She wept at his bedside and begged for his forgiveness. He didn't acknowledge her at all. She told him the entire story, starting with the night of her 21st birthday in Chicago. The end of her tale explained her plans for revenge against Detrick and how she sent Christophe away to make sure it was done. She hoped that he could take some peace in knowing that their debts were paid. Though knowing how prideful he was, she believed he secretly loathed her gift.

"Mère says you're feeling better. Are you?"

He didn't answer.

"Père, I understand why you find it hard to forgive me. I just wanted to tell you that I think I'm going to go back to the states. I want you to get better. I get the feeling that the things I've done only disappoint and cause you pain. I'll visit, and maybe when you're ready we can talk. Really talk. I love you, père, je t'aime de tout mon coeur. I would do anything for you. Don't you know that?"

He continued to stare ahead. She wished she could see his face. Zuri then thought it best she didn't. It would only hurt more to see him stare blankly at her, as if he didn't know her. "I'll leave you alone now."

She turned for the door. The urge to cry grew stronger as she approached.

"Zuri."

She stopped at the raspy sound of her name.

She turned. Her father had wheeled his chair from the window and faced her. He looked thinner, older. His face slacked on the left, and one of his hands racked with tremors as it rested in his lap. "Forgive me?" he slurred.

"What? Why?"

"My fault," he managed.

"No, père. It’s not your fault."

He cast his eyes down. "I hit you... never should have... I'm ashamed for it... forgive me."

Zuri went to her father. She stooped before him shaking her head. "There's nothing to forgive. I just wanted to know you don't hate me."

Tears welled in her father's eyes. "Tu es la joie de ma vie," he said, confirming that she was the joy in his life.

"Do you want me to stay? To help Joi? I can, père, to make sure things are okay. Just tell me what you want."

His hand lifted with deep trembles and pressed to the side of her face. "No. Go. Let you down. Not again. A stubborn fool... my fault... not yours, Zuri. You do better. Go. Je t'aime."

Zuri rose and hugged her father the best she could. "I should have found another way to help. I feel like I caused this. That I made it worst."

Claude lifted his stronger hand to rub her back. "Mère says love... you're in love."

Zuri released her father. She blinked at him through a veil of tears. "Huh?"

"You only did this... out of love. You gave up your heart... to heal me. Not fair to you... I never wanted sacrifice... Not from you."

"It doesn't matter. It's over between us. Look at how we began."

"It does. Don't lie." Père sucked down a deep breath and tried to speak clearly. "I can't help loving my girls... the way I do. Outside of your mother... I've never trusted in family. I've only known pain and suffering... with family. In Haiti things were tough... but we made a way. I spent most of my childhood... surviving. When I came to live with the Lefebvre's... I was given everything... but love. They raised me... out of duty. They changed my life... but they never loved me. I said I wouldn't... I wouldn't rule my family that way. I want you happy.... I trust you, Zuri, to find what it means. You decide... if he is the one... then tell him."

She nodded. She leaned in and kissed his cheek. "I will always love you, père, most of all. Always."

"As I will you."

"Je t'adore père. Moi aussi je t'aime." Sharing that she adored him, was the greatest expression of love she could.

***

One Week Later -

"You done packing?" Joi said from the door, her hair a riot of curls with bright blue streaks. She was dressed in a blue halter with tight jean shorts. Zuri shook her head at her sister's attire. Was that what she was wearing for their flight back to Chicago? Glancing down to her plain purple sundress and thong sandals. She wouldn't dare fly to the states dressed as she was. "If we're going to make our flight we need to leave for Forte de France soon," Joi insisted.

"In a minute." Zuri drew the zipper across the suitcase.

Her purse hit the floor and spilled over. Zuri cursed.

"Hurry up," Joi sighed, walking out.

Zuri dropped to her knees and picked up the items that spilled from her purse. She reached under the bed for a tube of lipstick. When it rolled away, she pressed her face to the floor and stretched her arm to reach for it. That's when she saw her cell phone. Surprised, she grabbed it instead. Zuri sat back on her legs. The battery was dead. "Here you are. I must have dropped you from the bed." She rose from her kneeling position and rushed into the bathroom. She dug in the drawer for the charger and plugged it in.

"Zuri?"

"In here, mère—"

"Are you done packing? Joi is quite frustrated."

"Oh tell her to relax. We have plenty of time," Zuri sighed.

Mère stood in the door of the bathroom. She held a letter. "This came for you today." Zuri accepted the envelope. There was no return address on it. "Merci."

Nanette smiled. "I'll send Francois to collect your things. Joi has already loaded her things. I'm making her change clothes. She won't be travelling with you dressed that way. What is she thinking!"

Zuri nodded as her mother began to fuss in French and walk out of her room. She dropped on the sink, staring at the envelope. The handwriting, it's mystery; she had to wonder if it was from Christophe. Slowly she opened the letter and hurriedly withdrew a single sheet of paper.



Zuri,

Comment vas-tu? I hear your father is well. I debated over this letter. First whether to write it, then whether to mail it. Not many people put their feelings on paper, but an email wouldn't do. Not for us. I decided if I was to move on then that meant I had to find a way to say the things I couldn't the last I saw you.

I know we only knew each other a short time. And I know that you made no promises to me. Still, I can't help but feel that we were robbed of something special. I share some of the blame in this. From the beginning, you were something special and I could only express it when you shared my bed. What else were you to believe? Forgive me, Zuri, but I find it hard to believe that I meant nothing to you. I discovered the woman you were on an ancient rock and in a hot spring. It's where you healed me. Maybe it wasn't love, but it was the beginning of something special.

For that I am grateful. I'm happy your family has the Oasis back. I know it was what you needed. I wish you happiness too. I'm not afraid of love anymore, Zuri, so I guess I had to write this letter to thank you.


Ton image hante mes nuits, me poursuit chaque jour, elle remplit ma vie.

Christophe.



Zuri read the letter twice, three times, before she could catch her breath. The last line was poetry. He said her vision haunts his nights, follows him through the day and fulfills him. She put a hand to her heart and repeated the words out loud.

"Oh, Christophe."

Behind her the mobile phone beeped. It was picking up a signal. She turned it on, keeping it plugged into the wall to maintain a charge. With shaky fingers she discovered seven missed messages from him and twelve text messages. She read them all. She could hear his fatigue when he arrived in New York to help her, and the reason why he didn't call her the night she waited. She could hear his desperation when he knew his mother on her way to Martinique. He warned her to avoid the meeting, to wait for him. That he would solve everything. It hurt to know how close she came to having him. All of it was too much. But this letter didn't say it was too late.

"Hey? Let's go," Joi said from the open door. "I'm ready for Chi-town!"

"Um, okay, yes, okay," she said collecting the letter and grabbing her phone and charger. "Right, let's go."

Epilogue

Three Months Later -

"Zuri, are you done with the Langford brief?"

Zuri glanced up from her computer screen. Was he kidding? He gave her the damn thing yesterday. Calvin Nguyen was up next for partner in the firm. A tall handsome Asian man with dark hair and a sly smile, he spent many days hounding her and the other young attorney's over the simplest of tasks. Zuri suspected it was one of his many attempts to flex his might. She found him exhausting. "You gave it to me yesterday, I'll have my revisions done by the end of the week."

"Cancel it. I need you to look at this." He tossed a file to her desk.

She frowned. "Why? What is it?"

"Montague, Have you heard of them? Some Fortune 500 gobbling up the resort industry the way Wal-Mart gobbled up convenient store market. Got a new client. This one here might bring us in a pretty bonus if he has a case. He said he was forced out of his company and wants to sue them. He's based in Seattle so it might end up with our offices there. He has offices here in Chicago so we'll see. Read it. Tell me your thoughts. I need to know before the next board meeting," he grinned. Calvin sure did talk fast and a lot. She barely listened to him. She just stared at the folder as if it were an amputated limb. She couldn't stop her heart from racing.

Mark leaned over to the top of her cubicle. "How about a drink later? I know a pub that plays jazz for happy hour. My treat."

"Um, no thanks," she said forcing her arms to move, her hand to touch the folder and lift it to her keyboard. She felt him leering and glanced up. "I'll read this and get back with you."

Mark winked then walked off. Zuri opened the folder with a shaky hand. The best way to get over Christophe was to pretend he never existed, especially since she failed miserably at locating him. Even Joi helped her in the search; they made a trip to New York and visited his office, only to be turned away. They tried everything to reach him. The mobile number she kept in her phone was disconnected. His office wouldn't return her calls. Letters to the address she was able to scrounge up from an Internet search were returned. Finally, she gave up. Her life made it easy. Between studying for the bar and taking the exam she found her work to be the best therapy. Now, out of nowhere, Christophe drops into her life again? This couldn't be a coincidence.

Zuri poured through the documents. To her shock, she learned that Elliot was now running Montague. Christophe’s name was nowhere to be found. She skimmed down the papers to a name. Davis. Zuri dialed the number listed for him.

"Um, yes, my name is Zuri Baptiste. I'm calling from Lloyd and Burke Attorney in Law. I need to speak to Attorney Davis please."

"I'm sorry, Ms. Baptiste. He’s in court."

"Can you have him return my call as soon as you get this message?" She gave her cellular number, expressed it was an emergency, and then hung up. She didn't care about the lawsuit. She wanted to find Christophe. After all this time, she wondered if it was wise.

***

Zuri sat down with her bowl of ice cream in front of the television. She picked up the remote and turned the channel to Discovery. Her addiction to watching crab fisherman brave a frozen sea had her DVR loaded with episodes. She looked on the sofa and saw the brief's and unread case files stacked up. Sighing, she knew it would be a long night.

Her phone rang. She picked it up to find that the caller was unlisted.

"Hello?"

"Zuri Baptiste?"

"Yes?"

"This is Davis."

Her heart lurched. "Ah, um, yes. Thank you for calling."

"I'm sorry for the late hour. I was curious as to why you called?"

"This might sound strange, Mr. Davis, but you're my last hope."

"Are you in trouble?"

She found the question strange and personal, as if he knew her or even better expected her call. "No. I um, yes, I guess I am. I need to find Christophe. I knew him from—"

"I know where you knew him from, Zuri. Why are you looking for him?"

Zuri glanced to the file folder on her coffee table. She could lie and say it was about the case. But she was done with lies. She was done pretending that she didn't need him too. "I want to see if he's okay."

The phone went silent.

"Mr. Davis, I understand that you have no reason to trust me. But I know he's not with Montague anymore and that company meant a lot to him. I've tried everything to find him. There are unresolved things between us. I need to talk to him."

"I understand. I think he'd want to talk to you. He lives in Bethel Ridge, Georgia. He prefers his solitude, Zuri. However—"

"Yes?"

"I think seeing you would do him some good. Do you have a pen?"

"Yes!" she smiled. "One second."

Zuri scribbled down the address. She thanked the attorney profusely and hung up the phone. She had his address. Now she had to decide what to do with it. Zuri dropped back on the sofa, smiling at the numbers and letters. She knew exactly what to do.





Bethel Ridge, Georgia

"Damn it." Zuri glared at her GPS, then returned her eyes to the road. It stopped working less than a mile back announcing: you have arrived. Arrived where? The middle of nowhere land? There was nothing: no cabin, no signs, just a two lane highway with a forest on either side more intimidating than the northern hills of Martinique that led to Mount Pele. She'd flown into Atlanta and had been driving two hours. She had hoped to arrive by now.

Zuri reached for her phone. Checking it, she found her signal was lost. The tree cover nearly blocked the sky. "Damn it," she groaned again. She would need to find a road to turn around and ask for directions. Slowing, she allowed her car to creep along until she did indeed see an approaching mailbox. To her surprise the numbers to his address were in red on the black oblong box.

Why would he move way out here? It was the middle of nowhere. Bethel Ridge was fifty miles back the way she came. She turned down the rocky road. Her rental seemed to sputter over the rough terrain. She gunned the gas a bit and forced her tires to spin out dirt and twigs, but she was again on her way. Silently, she drove along the worn path until she breeched the thicket. It was then she drove out to a two-story log cabin with a black pick up truck parked out front.


She had done quite a bit to make this reunion     a reality. She probably made a mortal enemy of Calvin by going above his head for the approval. She told Dennis Lloyd that the firm could gain leverage for the client if she found Christophe Montague and convinced him to align with them. All of it was bullshit. She had no intentions of doing anything but convincing the man she loved to forgive her.

Now parked, next to his truck, uninvited, doubt settled in. What if he was involved with someone? What if he had no desire to see her again? Could she stomach rejection again from Christophe?

The door to the cabin opened. Zuri gripped the steering wheel in fright. He stepped out with a worn over blue baseball cap pulled low to his brow. He was different. His hair was a big longer. It curled out from under his cap, and he had a mustache goatee. He wore a red cotton shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbow and faded blue jeans. He took another step and she knew he could see her. There was no turning back. Zuri opened her car door. She stepped out. The morning air was much more frosty in the mountain town than it was in Atlanta. She should have reached for her jacket.

Christophe stepped down the stairs immediately, and the closer he drew the clearer his face became. He wasn't smiling. He was frowning and her heart sank. "What are you doing here?"

"Hi, Christophe."

"How did you find me?"

She closed her car door. "I know I had no right to track you down like this. I, I had to see you."

He looked at her for a long moment. "Why?"

"I got your letter and—"

"That was over four months ago, Zuri." His voice broke over hers huskily.

"It took me that long to find you. You left Montague, your penthouse, the state. How was I to know how to reach you?"

"You weren't." His voice hardened ruthlessly.

"Oh, I see. I guess the mistake is mine."

Christophe turned and walked back to the steps. "Have a safe trip out," he mumbled.

"Ton image hante mes nuits me poursuit le jour elle remplit ma vie," she shouted to his back. He stopped. She couldn't do this again. Not again. "Those were your words, Christophe. Do you remember what you said in the letter? Why did you write that to me if you didn't mean it."

He cast her a look over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, but you wanted me to find you. You said I healed you and that you weren't afraid of love. Why are you turning your back on me now?"

"Maybe it hurts too much to see you. Maybe I can't forget how easy it was for you to walk away," he said.

"Then let's fight. Let's talk? Let's make love. Do something, Christophe. Ask me to stay. If I go, I won't come back. It's over."

He looked away.

She took a step forward. "Have you thought of me? I thought of you every day. You know what I listen to when it gets to be too much. Wait! Wait right there."

He watched her curiously as she ran back to her car. She opened the door and found her purse. Removing her cell phone, she quickly dialed her voice mail. Putting the phone on speaker, she played his messages for her. She never deleted them. She would listen to them often.

He stared at her phone, then her.

"I kept them. I tried to find you. I don't care about our mistakes. I just want another chance. Do you?"

Christophe shook his head. "You drive me crazy, Zuri. I never know what to expect with you."

Zuri laughed and she smiled. "You a mountain man now?"

He glanced up at her and smiled.

It was all she needed. She walked to him and into his arms. "I've missed you."

"Say it to me in French," he whispered.

She tilted her head back. "Tu me manques. Je veux etre avec toi," she said.

"I want to be with you too."

Her heart began to hammer in her chest as his lips came down on hers. Her mouth throbbed as his covered hers with a passionate message. A brief shiver of excitement rippled through her as she removed his hat and let her fingers slip into his damp locks. Christophe lifted her to him and she felt the heady sensation of his lips leaving her mouth to drift over her neck. She sighed as he carried her inside. They could talk later. First she wanted to enjoy all the passion starting over would surely bring.