From the Heart (the sequel to "Tea for Two")

It was a week later. Sam was spending the weekend at my place for the first time. It was early afternoon and we decided to go downtown, maybe even to the waterfront. The weather was clear, no sign of rain. We wouldn't be out long. Maybe an hour or two at most. And certainly nowhere near any crowds … not that there were any crowds in that part of town. The town's businesses were still struggling.

As we put on our medical masks, I suggested that we could stop by Francois' cafe and see how he was doing.

Sam nodded. “Do you want to speak with him alone?”

I thought about it, shook my head. “It might be easier with you there. I don't know what to say to him that doesn't sound trite or unfeeling.”

“Speak from your heart, Elias,” she said, tapping me on the chest, “and the rest will follow.”

“Easy for you to say,” I said.

She lifted her mask, smiled, and kissed me. “You'll do just fine. Come on. Let's go.”

In the downtown area, everyone was still practicing social distancing. Even the romantic couples seemed to be fluctuating between holding hands and just nudging each other with their elbows. We decided that holding hands was probably safe enough.

Francois' cafe was still mostly empty of customers. But when he caught sight of us, he seemed more cheerful than that last time I saw him. Like us, he was wearing a medical mask.

“Bon soir, mes amis,” he said, inclining his head slightly. “It is good to see you both again.”

“Bon soir,” Sam and I both said.

“Are things improving?” I asked Francois.

He shrugged. “Some days are better than others. And any day when you both choose to return here is an excellent day. Are you eating here?”

“Maybe a drink and an appetizer,” I said.

Sam nodded agreement.

“I will get you a menu,” he said.

Before he went inside the cafe, I said, “One moment.”

He paused, turned and looked at me. “Oui?”

“Would you join us at our table?” I asked.

“I see no reason why not,” Francois said. “Business is still slow. Choose a table and I will be with you momentarily.”

We picked a table away from the exterior of the cafe. The umbrella above the table was open, giving us shade. A breeze felt nice and cool as we sat down.

Francois returned to us, menu in hand. He handed it to us and sat down opposite me, Sam was on his right and on my left. He seemed more relaxed today than he'd been a week ago.

“It is not uncommon for me to eat with customers,” he said, “Especially those who are my friends.”

Sam looked through the appetizer section of the menu. “I've only been here once. Can you recommend anything?”

Francois nodded. “The lunchtime selection isn't quite as long as the dinner selection is, but I believe you might like these: a nice variety of canapés; as well as socca (not as authentic as what you would get in Nice, but close enough); anchoïade (which is originally from Provence); terrine de lapin (with rabbit) and terrine de porc (with pork) are also quite good; salade lyonnaise; pissaladière (also originally from Nice); and gougère.”

“Why not a little of each?” she suggested.

“And some wine to go with them?” Francois asked.

“Yes, please,” she said.

He stood up, accepted the menu from her, and went inside the cafe.

“Where did he emigrate from?” Sam asked.

“Montreal,” I said.

“From the items on the menu, you'd think he was from France, instead of Quebec,” she said.

“Perhaps his ancestors originally came from France,” I said, “and brought different kinds of recipes across the Atlantic with them.”

“Perhaps,” she said.

Francois returned with an unopened bottle of wine and three glasses. “Your meal will be ready soon.”

He opened the bottle, poured for each of us and then for himself. He placed the cork in the bottle, and sat back down in his chair.

“I don't think we're in a hurry,” I said, glancing at Sam.

She shook her head. “It's too nice of a day to hurry. I don't think the mayor will mind if we stay out longer than an hour or two. At least, I hope not.”

Francois lifted his glass. “A toast, then: To my old friend, Elias – and to my new friend Samantha.”

We clinked glasses and sipped our wine. I liked the taste of the wine, and Sam seemed to enjoy it as well. I glanced at the bottle's label. Produit de Quebec. But of course.

“A very good vintage, mon ami,” Francois said, noticing my interest. “I order a case from them every year. They are located at a vineyard near the St. Laurence River, downriver from Montreal. A vineyard owned by an aunt and uncle.”

“Isn't that expensive, though?” I asked. “The shipping costs alone must be –”

“It is worth the expense,” he said firmly. “I have yet to hear from a customer or employee who does not enjoy its bouquet and taste as much as I do.”

My eyebrows rose. “And you can make a case last an entire year?”

“Sometimes, but when I cannot, I simply order another case,” he said and looked down at the tabletop. “Danielle also enjoyed it. When we were children, we used to play in the vineyard each Summer. What wonderful games we played. And when harvest-time came, we helped harvest the grapes.” He laughed softly. “Our Aunt Josephine and Uncle Bernard even showed us how grapes used to be converted into juice, before machines did the work. When you are a child, smashing grapes with your feet is both squishy and fun.”

“I'm glad you have happy memories of your sister,” Sam said.

Francois nodded. “Oui. Many of them. But, like a postcard from heaven, it is nothing like the real thing.” He sighed deeply. “It has only been a little more than a week and already I miss her so much.”

“I'm sorry,” she said.

“Thank you for caring,” he said.

“Didn't she leave anything for you?” I asked, hoping I wasn't sounding nosy.

He looked surprised by my question. “Mais oui. I was her brother. Since she never married and never had any children, naturellement I was her next-of-kin. And had things been different, she would have been my next-of-kin. But unfortunately, I was the one who had to inherit. But no matter how much or little it is, it will still never replace her in my heart.” He took a deep breath, then let it out.

Another waiter exited the cafe and brought a large aluminum tray over to our table. The tray was filled almost to the rim with appetizers. They looked wonderful and smelled delicious.

“Merci, Henri,” Francois said to the waiter.

Sam and I said the same.

Henri inclined his head at each of us in return, and went back inside the cafe.

“He is new here,” Francois explained. “I hired him to take Danielle's place.”

“How is he doing?” I asked.

“So far, quite well,” he said. “Not as popular with customers, of course.”

Of course.

We began sampling the various appetizers. It was almost impossible to decide which was the tastiest. Sam and I laughed as we fed each other one of the canapés. The canape didn't quite make it entirely into my mouth. I pushed what was left between my lips. Sam dabbed at my mouth with a napkin and gave me a quick kiss on the lips.

“I am very glad that you have one another,” Francois said as he watched us. “It is not good to be alone in this life, in this world, mes amis.”

“I wish we could help you find someone,” Sam said, her laughter and smile fading.

“There is no need in my case,” he said.

“But surely –” she began.

He shook his head. “It is most kind of you, madame. I will survive. I have survived worse than this. Danielle and I had already decided to emigrate to America when our parents died. Our aunt and uncle offered to let us move in with them, but we turned them down. We did not want any help. We wanted to find somewhere where we could support ourselves from the results of our hard work. Danielle suggested we open a cafe in a seaside town and I agreed. We searched online and this town seemed to fit all our criteria. At first, it was difficult, because we were not merely strangers but strangers from another country. Our English was not as good back then. But it improved, just as our relationship with our customers improved. They came to know us better and enjoyed more and more of what we had to offer. And then we met you, mon ami. That is a day I shall never forget. I trust you have not?”

I shook my head. “It was about a year after I graduated from college. I had moved back here, to see if I could make a living here. When I finally became completely self-sufficient, I decided to celebrate one evening by coming into town and finding somewhere to eat out. At first I didn't find anything that really caught my attention. I almost thought about giving up and going home, when I heard a young woman's voice, calling to me.”

“ 'Monsieur, monsieur!'

“I thought I'd dropped something and she was calling my attention to it. But instead, she was calling my attention to the cafe where she worked. A tall, red-haired woman with freckles on her face, a nice smile, and wearing a knee-length dress and an apron tied around her waist.”

“That was Danielle,” Francois told Sam. “She was the face that our customers saw first. She was what drew them in, and then we supported her with our service, food, and drink.”

“ 'Bon soir, monsieur!' Danielle greeted me,” I went on. “She already seemed more like an old friend than someone I had just met. 'Welcome to our humble cafe. Care to partake of what we have on our menu?' She handed it to me, tried not to laugh, her green eyes twinkling mischievously. 'What's so funny?' I asked, puzzled. 'You looked like a lost kitten or puppy when you walked past our cafe,' she said. 'And now you are found. But I am not sure that you are aware of it yet.' 'I could just walk on,' I said. 'I think there's a few more to see and choose from.' 'Ah, monsieur, but not like our establishment,' Danielle said. 'We have the best of France here, and even a little from Quebec as well.' 'Which one are you from' I asked. 'I and my brother, Francois, are from Montreal,' she said. 'He is inside our cafe right now.' I paused, still wondering whether to accept her invitation or not. 'Surely you will stay?' she asked and came over to me. She nudged me with her left hip. 'Am I not pretty enough to entice you to eat here?' she asked with a smile. 'Indeed,' I said. 'Then it is agreed,' she said and led me to a table. I don't envy any male customer who tried to argue with her.”

“That was Danielle,” Francois agreed. “She was like the sirens singing to Odysseus and his crew. Very few could argue with her. And when she smiled, fewer still could resist her.”

“And yet no one ever fell in love with her?” Sam asked.

“Some did,” he said. “But she would never abandon our cafe. So each relationship fell apart, and she accepted it with a shrug of her shoulders. 'I will find a man someday,' she told me. 'A man who will let me love him and he in turn will love me and let me continue working here.' 'Perhaps such a man does not exist,' I said. 'One never knows,' she said.”

She glanced at me. “Were you one of those men, Elias?”

“Briefly,” I said. “But only because we discovered we were happier being like brother and sister than being in love with each other.”

“Briefly?” Francois asked, startled. “That is what you call nearly a year of dating each other, mon ami? Mon dieu!”

Sam's left eyebrow rose. “I certainly wouldn't call that 'brief'.”

“Nor would I,” he said and stood up. “There is something that Danielle left behind. But not for me.”

“Who did she want to have it?” I asked.

“You, mon ami,” he said and went inside the cafe.

“So you have dated before,” Sam told me. “Before we met here.”

I nodded.

“You never said,” she said.

“You never asked,” I said. “And I didn't think that it was a topic for a new relationship.”

She looked carefully at me. “It didn't end well?”

It was possible that it still wasn't a topic to discuss with Sam. She knew how to get me to start talking about subjects I normally didn't publicly discuss. Hopefully she wouldn't use those methods on me now.

“It started well enough,” I said. “But it went from smooth to bumpy sooner than either of us expected. And then very bumpy indeed.”

“You had an argument?” she asked.

I nodded. “She was even more outward-going than you are. She wasn't used to being quiet and relaxed. She liked being active, and was more open about her thoughts and feelings than I was.”

“What triggered the argument?” she asked. “Or would you rather wait and tell me when we get back to your place?”

We both looked at the cafe's entrance. No sign of Francois. Yet. But he would probably be back very soon.

“She thought that we'd dated long enough that maybe it was time to take the next step,” I said.

“Which would be what?” she asked.

“Making our relationship more permanent,” I said.

“And you weren't ready to?” she asked.

I shook my head. “She tried to convince me to change my mind, but I refused.”

“I can imagine the fireworks,” Sam said.

I made a face. “It just seemed like such a dumb thing to ruin a relationship over. We were getting along just fine. No major disagreements. We knew how to make each other happy.” I sighed heavily. “Why did she have to try to make it more than it was?”

“And yet – you somehow managed to stay friends after your breakup,” she said.

I nodded. “I didn't expect that. I thought we just wouldn't see each other anymore. But we did. And somehow our failed relationship didn't get in the way. Maybe we just weren't meant to be more than friends. I found that I still looked forward to coming here, seeing both her and Francois, and talking with them. The romantic urge toward Danielle, however, was gone.”

“But not the memory of it,” she said.

I nodded.

Thankfully Francois returned just then, carrying a small, flat box in his hand. It was made of dark wood, inlaid with a lighter wood in a very pretty pattern. He handed it to me and sat down in his chair.

“It's beautiful,” I said, running the fingers of my right hand across its surface.

“Open it, mon ami,” he said.

I lifted the lid and found a letter and a photo inside. I took them out. The photo was of Danielle and myself, taken here at the cafe while we were still dating. We were standing side-by-side. She'd turned her head to kiss me on the cheek just as the photo was taken. The letter was written about a week before she died. It wasn't long.

Mon cher ami,

In case anything happens to me, I want you to have this letter and the photo of us. I want you to remember the happiness and laughter we once shared, the good times we once had. I have never been happier in my life. If only it could have lasted longer. C'est la vie. I wish you a long and happy life. I hope you get to share as much of it as possible with a woman who means the world to you.

Toujours et pour toujours,

Danielle

A drop of water fell on the letter. At first I thought it was rain, but then realized soon after it wasn't rain. It was a tear. Followed by another. And another. And so on.

Sam said, “Elias – you're crying.”

I nodded.

She moved her chair over to me, and put her arms around me. I laid my head on her shoulder and closed my eyes.

She didn't tell me I was being silly or anything. She didn't tell me that men are supposed to be strong, not emotional.

She just held me and let me cry.

Neither one of us noticed when Francois went back inside the cafe, politely giving us some privacy.

When I felt calmer, Sam gently held my head in her hands, making me look at her. She looked more beautiful than ever. If only I could be as strong as her.

“Full of surprises, aren't you?” she asked. “I'll keep this a secret, if in exchange you answer my question.”

“Sure,” I said. “What's the question?”

“I never did tell you why I took the taxi to this part of town a week ago,” she said. “If I tell you, can you keep it a secret?”