CHAPTER 23
“What time is it?” Shaundra asked dreamily. She was wrapped in Nathanael’s arms, completely naked, with tangled sheets trailing off the bed. They’d hastened home after their visit with Coralie, and lost no time in putting Benji to bed and saying goodnight to Samia.
The young woman had a twinkle in her eye when she’d turned in for the night, no doubt noticing that Shaundra wasn’t headed to the second bedroom where she had been sleeping since she’d arrived. Shaundra was pretty sure the nanny knew what was about to happen and grinned to herself. She had nothing to be embarrassed about. She was a woman in love with her husband and it showed.
“What time do you want it to be?” Nathanael asked, sitting on the edge of the bed and surveying the damage they had wrought upon the room in their moment of madness.
She rolled her eyes. “God, that’s the corniest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
He grinned. “I guess love really does kill your brain cells.”
She got to her knees and put her arms around his shoulders. “No, it doesn’t. Love makes everything better. It’s like magic sparkle pixie dust—”
“Now who’s being corny?” he teased, but he kissed her tenderly. Then asked, “I’m guessing it’s halfway between bedtime and sunrise. My watch is all the way over on the dressing table, so that’s the closest approximation I can give you.”
“Aww man! So the kitchen’s probably closed.”
“Probably is,” he said gravely.
“I’m starving!”
“I could think of something you might want to wrap your lips around.”
“Huh. I was thinking more about the granola bar in my purse.”
He made a playful grab for her, and she darted away. The phone shrieked into the night, stopping them both dead. Nathanael fished around in his pants pockets for it while Shaundra looked on anxiously. Nothing good ever came from a phone call at three-ish in the morning.
He answered, then mouthedmy momat her, and lapsed into French.
Shaundra listened to his end of the conversation with mounting consternation, trying to decipher what was happening, because Nathanael’s face was instantly serious. All traces of playfulness were gone. The smattering of French she knew, was of little help, because his words left his mouth like bullets from a Gatling gun.
After several long minutes, he ended the call and then sat there, staring at the wall, for so long that she got frightened. She called his name tentatively, touching him on the shoulder.
He turned to face her, but didn’t speak. His face was ashen.
“What?”
“Tobias is dead.”
“Dead? Did he have another stroke?”
He shook his head almost imperceptibly. “Fire.”
“Fire?”she echoed incredulously. “When? How?”
“A couple of hours ago. According to Mom, his house burned to the ground. He was immobilized in bed, he couldn’t escape.”
This makes no sense,she thought. Fires don’t just happen. “Did they know how the fire started?”
He shrugged. “Maman said the house is a smoldering wreck. They’re still on the scene. It will be days yet before they can investigate.”
She asked, “How did your mom sound?”
The implication was clear, and so shocking that Shaundra could barely wrap her head around it. Her very instincts told her that earlier that night, a mother grieving over an injustice that had lingered unpunished for decades, had taken things into her own hands.
He cracked half a smile. “Calm. Deadly calm. She sounded like she was mentioning the weather.”
“How bad do you think this can get?”
“We won’t find out because I’ll have her flown out of the U.S. first thing tomorrow or today if we’re being factual.”
She reached out and took his hand, smiling to herself. That petite blonde who had wept in her arms over her son’s agony was far from your stereotypical sweet old granny. Nah. She was a thug in a dress.
Shaundra wished she would be that fierce at that age.
She pulled him against her, urging him back into bed, and showed him without words what he meant to her, and how much faith she had in their future.