I'll See You in Paris
Michelle Gable
For my mom,
Laura Gable,
the best there is.
And for great mothers everywhere.
One
GOOSE CREEK HILL
MIDDLEBURG, VIRGINIA
OCTOBER 2001
“Maybe she’ll surprise us,” Eric said.
They walked along the path toward the barn, Annie’s sandals crunching against the gravel. It was eighty degrees, unusually warm for that time of year, an Indian summer. The sun was bright, the hillsides green and flashing. The leaves had not yet begun to change.
“Surprise us?” Annie said, her stomach wobbly. Somewhere in the distance a horse whinnied. “Uh, no. My mom doesn’t surprise anyone.”
“Come on, have a little faith. It happens all the time. You think you know someone and suddenly…” He snapped his fingers and turned. “Just like that. Boom. A complete one-eighty.”
As he spun around, Annie laughed.
“Laurel Haley doesn’t make one-eighties,” she said. “Her entire life’s been a strictly measured line going in one direction.”
Except for a slight detour, she hastened to add. The detour being Annie.
“But she loves you,” Eric said, taking her hand. “And I know she’ll be as excited as we are. I can feel it.”
Annie smiled, his relentless optimism enchanting her every time. He was unflagging with it, dedicated to perpetual sunniness like he was working it out in boot camp. She couldn’t decide if this was a very useful or extremely dangerous attitude for someone about to board a Marine Expeditionary Unit bound for the Middle East.
“Maybe you’re right,” she said, succumbing to his Eric-ness yet again.
It wasn’t impossible. Laurel claimed Annie’s happiness was her number one priority. She was happy with Eric. Perhaps this really was enough.
They paused by the stable’s entrance. Annie inhaled deeply as a gaggle of tween girls loped past, all lanky and athletic and at the start of beautiful but not quite grown into their breeches or boots.
“Okay,” she said. “Here we go.”
She took a few cautious steps forward and then peered into one of the stalls where she saw Laurel tacking a horse.
“Beautiful job today, Sophie,” Laurel said as a mother and daughter scooted by. “I’m out of town for the next two weeks. Margaret will be doing the lessons for me.”
The young girl waved, and then grinned at Annie as she passed. Sophie was one of the twenty or so children Laurel taught for free. Medically challenged girls, those not expected to live long or those not expected to live well. Even when Laurel worked full-time at the gleaming law firm downtown, she always made time for these girls.
“Oh, hi, Annie!” Laurel said as she buckled the mare’s bridle. “Eric. I didn’t know you guys were here.”
“Was that your last student?” Annie asked, feeling Eric’s presence solid behind her. “Are you busy?”
“Nope, not busy at all.” Laurel tightened the strap. “Just finished a lesson and headed out for a ride. So, what’s up?”
She gripped the reins in her right hand, face playing at a twitchy smile. Laurel always knew when Annie was up to no good, when she was hiding something or stretching the truth in some important way. This savvy baffled Annie given her mom lived in the narrowest possible world, comprised of work and Annie and the horses. Laurel quit her job a year ago so now it was down to Annie and the farm. How was it she understood so much?
“The two of you have something to tell me,” Laurel said, breaking the ice because no one else would. “Might as well fess up. I think your nervous energy is about to spook the horses.”
“Ma’am, I wanted to get your permission,” Eric started, his voice strong and assured.
Annie winced, waiting for Laurel to drop a big fat cloud over them. Her mom was kind, generous, at times outright funny. But Laurel could sniff out a bad idea from a mile away and was never afraid to complain about the smell.
“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you first,” Eric went on. “But, well, there’s not a lot of time before my deployment. And y’all have your trip to England. Everything’s happened so fast. But I’m asking now.”
Oh God, Annie thought, heart sprinting. Maybe this is a mistake. But it was already too late.
“May I marry your daughter?” he asked.
After that: silence. Even the horse seemed uncomfortable, sheepishly kicking at the hay.
“Ma’am…?”
“Are you truly asking me?” Laurel said at last. “Or are you telling me?”
“Mom!”
“It’s okay, Annie,” Eric said and rubbed her arm. “We’ve ambushed her. Give your mama the chance to adjust.”
“I’m weirdly not that shocked,” Laurel said with a careful laugh. “Somehow I knew this was coming.”
“I love her, Ms. Haley. I swear to you before God and country that I will treat your daughter better than any prince she’s ever dreamed.”