French Roast (The French Twist Series Book 4) Read online

  I carefully kissed her forehead, afraid to say those final words.

  “Goodbye, Mom.”

  The instant I said the words, my heart started racing at the prospect of the next few hours. The doctors warned us once the machines had been turned off, it could take several hours or even days for my mother’s body to completely shut down. I couldn’t imagine the agony of sitting through such an ordeal, but how could I leave?

  Kate and Charlie crept into the room. I looked at them helplessly. “Is it time?”

  “Yes,” Charlie confirmed. “The doctor is on her way in.”

  I felt my knees buckle. Kate quickly slipped her arms around me. “We will survive this. Do you hear me?”

  I found my footing and turned to face her. “I hear you.”

  Her gaze traveled to Mom. “You forgot the earrings.”

  “I didn’t have the chance…” I glanced down at my shaking hands.

  “It’s okay, Syd. You get one and I’ll get the other.”

  We each took a side and gently removed my Mom’s most prized earrings. As I did so, I felt all hope drain from my body. If something as awful as this could happen to someone as wonderful as my mother, how could anything good ever happen again?

  Kate put the earring she retrieved into my hand and closed my fingers over the treasure. “Put these in a safe place.”

  Seized with a brief moment of genius, I wrapped them in a tissue and sealed them in my wallet. Even my dazed mind could be counted on to find them at some point.

  The sound of the door opening caused us all to jump. The doctor entered the room with a nurse in tow and explained the entire procedure to us once more. When asked if we were ready to begin, the answer was unanimous.

  “No,” Charlie mumbled, “but we know we have to be.”

  The three of us gathered around our father as though we could protect him from what was about to happen. Instinctively, we formed a chain of hands so each of us had a reminder that we weren’t alone.

  We watched the doctor, mesmerized, as she pushed a number of buttons and disconnected a series of tubes. After the last switch, the beeping stopped and the room was filled with silence.

  A thousand thoughts raced through my mind. I wanted to stop what was happening, but there was nothing I could do. This beautiful, kind, gentle, incredible soul was leaving us. And we just had to stand here and watch.

  “This is bullshit!” Kate screamed.

  Thought the outburst came from the least likely person in the room, I couldn’t have said it better myself.

  Chapter Nine

  I woke the morning of the funeral with a pit in my stomach. It had only been three days since my mother had passed away, but it felt like a lifetime. Kate believed being surrounded by our friends and family would help us heal, but all I could think of was having to stand in a room full of people pretending I was okay. Louis would shoulder as much of the load as he could, but there were some things I would have to do alone. Deliver a eulogy, for example. How in the world would I find the strength to do that?

  Take heart, Sydney. One moment at a time.

  I looked around my childhood bedroom, taking in the time capsule my mother had preserved. My beloved Dirty Dancing poster occupied the same spot over my bed, reminding me of all the nights we spent watching Johnny and Baby steam up the screen. My mom and I would snuggle under a blanket, eat popcorn and dream about the day we would develop the coordination to dance like professionals.

  I continued to peruse the walls, noting every picture, book and keepsake with a heavy heart. I knew how lucky I was to have experienced such a wonderful childhood—every day brimming with love and adventure—but all I could feel was sadness and loss.

  “Special delivery!” Louis called.

  I jumped at the sound of my husband’s voice. Quickly recovering, I glanced up to find Luc speeding toward me in his father’s arms, wearing a grin of epic proportions. I had a sneaking suspicion Louis had taken Luc on a few test flights before arriving at his final destination.

  I wiped the sorrow from my face. “Good morning, sweetheart!”

  “Mommy!” Luc reached for me with jam covered hands.

  “Ugh!” I giggled. “Did Daddy forget to clean you up after breakfast?”

  Louis frowned. “Sorry, mon coeur. I’m afraid we were a little distracted this morning.”

  Luc nodded excitedly. “Tom and Jerry was on TV!”

  “No way!” I exclaimed. You rarely got the good stuff on live TV these days.

  The three of us turned at the thumping sound of my father’s cane. “Why wasn’t I invited to this party?”

  “Sorry, Dad. It was a spontaneous thing.”

  “We had our own party at breakfast, Opa, remember? We had those chocolate dough—”

  My father cleared his throat with gusto. “There’s no need to give your mother the details, Luc.”

  I stood up and gently hugged my father before whispering, “You’re a bad influence.”

  “Ah, the joy of being a grandparent, Duck.”

  “Indeed.” I could only imagine the hijinks which would ensue over the next few years at the hands of my father. Especially now that we didn’t have my mother to rein—

  Oh God.

  “Are you okay, mon coeur?”

  “Fine.” We all knew it was a lie, but I felt the need to tell it just the same. “I’m going to take a shower. We need to get going soon.”

  With one last parting glance, I ventured to the bathroom, determined to make it through this day with as little scarring as possible.

  When we pulled up to the funeral home, all conversation stopped. Everyone knew why we were here and no one wanted to deal with it. Even Luc remained silent, which to this point in his life had only happened while he was sleeping. The gravity of the situation was obviously not lost on him.

  Louis reached for my hand. “Just tell me what you need.”

  “A time machine?”

  He smiled. “If I only I could build one for you.”

  “You are my French MacGyver,” I whispered. “Doesn’t that mean you’re a miracle worker?”

  We regarded each other silently, both knowing his unparalleled ingenuity could do nothing to get us out of this situation.

  “Mommy?”

  I craned my neck to look at Luc. “Yes, sweetheart?”

  “Will we ever see Gramma again?”

  I had no idea how to answer his question. Louis and I had discussed death with Luc in the most innocuous terms possible. I knew we had gotten off far too easily…

  I hesitated. “We’ll never see her in the same way, Luc. We can close our eyes and imagine her.” I reached for his hand. “We can dream about her. Remember how Gramma would tell you to meet her in your dreams?”

  He nodded eagerly. “We used to meet at the beach!”

  “That’s right!” I forced my wobbly lips into a smile.

  “And she’ll always be in your heart, Minou.”

  I took a moment to contemplate my husband’s beautiful sentiment before stating the obvious. “We’d better get inside, boys.”

  As I reached for the handle, I noticed the door was already being opened for me. Startled, I looked up into Devon’s concerned face.

  “What are you doing here?” I gasped, jumping out of the car and pulling him into a fierce hug. “What about your crazy, I mean, um, very pregnant wife?” (It seemed the extra time spent with my father had caused his gift for subtlety to rub off on me.)

  He laughed. “She insisted I be here for you since she couldn’t.”

  I released him and nodded, moved to tears by her uncharacteristically selfless act. I was about to ask how she was when a whirling dervish collided with us.

  “Uncle Devon!”

  “Who is this refined young man?” Devon wondered.

  Luc grinned. “It’s Luc, silly! You just didn’t recognize me in my fancy new suit.” He strutted for effect.

  A familiar voice joined the conversation. “You’re ready
for a runway in Paris, Luc!”

  I spun around in shock. “Nigel!”

  “Syd.” His blue eyes were blanketed in sadness. “I’m so sorry about your mum. She was such a wonderful person. I really liked her.”

  “She really liked you too.” I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. “She would never let anyone call you Pip in her presence.”

  He chuckled. “It was hard for her to see the humor in comparing me to a South Park character closely resembling a giant weenie.”

  I laughed and threw my arms around his neck. “Thank you so much for coming. Things will be a little easier with your sunny disposition present.”

  “If there’s anything I can do—”

  Louis appeared at my side. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Kate’s asking for you.”

  “Please excuse me.” I bowed my head and gave a small curtsy, uncertain of when I became an Austenesque heroine. Grief did really weird things to people.

  After crossing the threshold into the funeral home, the air seemed to constrict. The burst of color from the dozens of floral arrangements seemed shocking at first, but seeing them in contrast to the somber surroundings confirmed that our family and friends had made the right choice. Mom wouldn’t have wanted her “celebration of life” to be so miserable. I clutched at my heart as I remembered our conversation from last year.

  “Promise me something, Syd.”

  I looked up from my painting project. “Sure, Mom. Anything.”

  “When I die—”

  “It’s bad enough you’re making me paint a piece of pottery when I have no artistic talent whatsoever, but now you want to talk about your death?”

  “I’m going to die someday, honey.”

  “I know! But not for years and years and years. Your health is superior, you have good genes and you take excellent care of yourself.”

  “Be that as it may, when I die,” she shot me her sternest look, “please don’t give me a depressing funeral. Celebrate my life.”

  “Mom! This is crazy. Why do we need to discuss this now?"

  “Please, Syd. This is important to me.”

  I put down the paintbrush and met her eyes. “Okay, Mom. I promise.”

  “Syd.”

  I rushed to my sister’s side. “What’s the matter?”

  “I don’t know about these flowers.”

  “They’re pretty.”

  “For a sweet sixteen or a wedding….”

  “Let me guess, you don’t think they’re subdued enough for a funeral?”

  “No,” she muttered. “We don’t need subdued, but we do need elegant.”

  “These are all of her favorite flowers.” I took her hand. “And she loved bright colors.”

  She fought to control her emotion. “You’re right.”

  I poked her in the ribs. “Did you just tell me I was right?”

  “Don’t get used to it.” Her smile faded when she noticed Charlie signaling us to enter the chapel. It was time to begin.

  Once we had settled into our seats, I scanned the crowd, feeling a mixture of joy and pain. It had been years since I had seen many of these people and I knew I would enjoy catching up with them. If only the reason for our spontaneous reunion didn’t break my heart.

  As my brother slowly approached the podium, Luc settled himself into my lap and I wrapped my arms around him. For the next few minutes, we listened to my brother recount his most memorable moments with our mother. Some I cherished right along with him and some I had been too young to remember. (The image of Charlie manning the stove from his high chair was one I would carry with me for the rest of my life. Apparently, his pancake flipping prowess was legendary.) When he finished, Zoe and Ginny met him at the bottom of the stairs and escorted him back to his seat. My eyes welled at the tenderness of this gesture.

  Kate read her eulogy with a loud, clear voice, but I could see the pain in her eyes. I envied her ability to keep her anguish locked away; I would be lucky if I made it through what I had written with one stitch of makeup left on my face. Even waterproof mascara was going to have a tough time facing what I had to offer.

  Before I knew it, it was my turn.

  Louis touched my arm. “It’s time, Syd.”

  I nodded, clutching my eulogy. I stood up carefully and climbed the steps to the podium. Kate gave me a long hug before returning to her seat.

  I gazed at the sea of faces, trying to keep my emotion in check. “Thank you all for coming. It would have meant a lot to my mother.”

  I cleared my throat, hoping I could get through these next few moments with my dignity intact. (If any day were a day for miracles, it was today.)

  “My mother was…” I paused, feeling helpless that I had started to stumble after the first three words. “Well, she was my hero.” I smiled. “She didn’t have an easy life. A difficult childhood followed by an unhappy first marriage could have made her into a very bitter person. But instead of complaining, she poured her heart into raising us—her three miracles—as she used to say. She found the strength to leave her bad marriage and keep our spirits up as we started over with nothing. She was there every step of the way, to guide, support, love and, of course, yell at us when necessary.”

  A chuckle escaped my father, causing me to breathe a sigh of relief. “Before we knew it, this wise-cracking middle-aged man entered our lives.” I nodded my head in his direction and gave him a small smirk. “He jumped in without a life raft and helped Mom keep us in line. He showed her happiness she had never seen before and let her know she wasn’t alone.”

  I bit my lip to gain control over my building sorrow.

  “As much as he would like to tell you otherwise, she handled all the tough conversations. She put Charlie back in line when he lost focus, she reminded Kate that nobody likes a know-it-all and she told me”—I swallowed slowly—“to stop being so hard on myself.” I reached below the podium and pulled out the worn frame which sat on my desk all through high school. “It may surprise you to know I had a little issue with perfection when I was younger.”

  Laughter rippled throughout the audience, giving me the strength I needed to finish.

  “My mother would always tell me, ‘Good enough is not nearly as wonderful as perfect, but it is good enough.’ And when I couldn’t seem to remember these wise words, she had them framed for me.” I grinned as I held up the evidence. “She always knew just what to say to reach me, to reach all of us. She was filled with humor, grace, compassion and love. So much love. I will be forever grateful for her presence in my life.”

  I stopped, willing the tears to stay in my eyes, if only for the next few seconds. As I contemplated whether the last sentence was really necessary, I felt a little hand tug at my skirt.

  “It’s okay, Mommy.”

  Tears rolled down my cheeks as I bent down to hug my precious little man. After he wiped them with one of his Opa’s handkerchiefs, I stood up and turned back to my fellow mourners.

  “If I can manage to be half the mother she was, I’ll consider my children to be the luckiest in the world.”

  With one last smile, I took Luc’s hand and we walked back to our seats.

  “That was beautiful, mon coeur.”

  After pulling Luc back into my lap, I whispered, “Thank you.”

  I didn’t want to admit how relieved I was that my part was over. My capacity for inappropriate comments, poorly-timed laughter (as well as the accompanying gestures) was legendary, but any of these happening during a tribute to my mother wasn’t something I could handle. Even my father and his enjoyment of laughing at the expense of others would have been disturbed by such an occurrence.

  My dad’s gruff voice filled the hall. “Lyn was the most incredible woman I have ever met. What she saw in this old man standing in front of you I’ll never understand.”

  Luc handed me the handkerchief he had used earlier. Even at his young age, he knew this was going to be a struggle.

  “She smoothed out my rough edges.” He pause
d, searching for the right words to continue. “She told me when I was being an ass—I mean, a jerk.” He smiled as the childish giggles reverberated through the hall. “She taught me patience and understanding. And somehow, she helped me to open my heart once more.”

  He hastily wiped his tears with a handkerchief. “She tried to get me to take better care of myself—though I never listened.” He grabbed his belly for emphasis. “But most important, she gave me an incredible gift. She made me a father again. Well, really three times, but at least they were partially grown by the time I got ‘em.”

  Charlie, Kate and I exchanged worried glances. What did he have up his sleeve? Why hadn’t any of us thought to ask to see his eulogy?

  “Suddenly my life was filled with algebra problems, dance lessons, marching band practice, arguments about curfew and even food fights.” He glared at Charlie. “I never actually threw anything at you.”

  Dad grinned as laughter flowed through the crowd before him.

  “Lyn always said ‘laughter through tears’ was her favorite emotion.” He paused and lowered his gaze to the front row. “That line was from the movie you girls always watched, right, Kate?”

  She nodded.

  “What was it called? Metal Magnolias?”

  “Steel Magnolias,” Kate, Zoe and I answered in unison.

  “Close enough.” He shrugged. “The point is, she knew we could make it through anything. She knew even when times were dark, a ray of light would always find its way to us.”

  This time his gaze settled on me. “She knew we were about to welcome a new member into the family, even if she didn’t get to hear it directly from her daughter.”

  Several gasps emanated from the audience, although I thought mine to be the loudest.

  “Here is the ray of light today, my friends: Sydney is pregnant!” His eyes shone with such pride, I had no choice but to let my anger at being outed (in my first trimester! in front of many, many people I didn’t know very well!) go for the sake of the greater good.

  Luc turned to me and whispered, “Opa totally busted you.”

  Between the glee on my son’s face, the laughter my husband was desperately trying to hide and the cheers breaking out all over the room, I lost my composure. I giggled until my stomach ached and felt a degree of happiness I hadn’t expected to feel on this particular day. (Laughter through tears indeed.)