“Go for a swim,” Anouk suggested. “I’ll join you in a bit.”
Camille was about to do just that when Finn, in the distance, turned away from her. Instead of wading back into the surf, he climbed a rough path to a rocky ledge. A few swimmers were gathered on the sheer ledge, taking turns jumping into the clear, cool water.
The sight of Finn on the jagged stone outcropping made her shudder and draw a quick breath.
“You don’t like heights?” asked Anouk.
“Understatement.” Camille felt the blood surging in her ears as unbidden memories pulled her back to the worst day of her life. “When I was younger, I would have been the first one off the cliff, but I’m not that person anymore.”
“Maybe you are, and you’re holding yourself back,” Anouk said. “Just a guess.”
Camille forced herself to stop watching Finn. “Of course I am,” she said. “I didn’t come here this summer looking for a man. I came to help my father settle some things, and to get Julie away from a situation at home.”
“And now you’re taking her back to that situation.”
“Yes.” Camille had talked to Anouk at length about the bullying. “It was always understood that this was for the summer only. I hope she’s better prepared to deal with the kids back home.”
“Your daughter has changed a lot over the summer. She’s turned from a girl into a young lady.”
“I noticed.” Camille felt a rush of pride. Julie had made friends; she seemed so confident in herself now.
“You’re not the only one who noticed.” Anouk gestured. “Isn’t that Julie up there?”
“No, she said she was going to the Cézanne museum in Aix today.” Camille turned and shaded her eyes. In the distance, atop the cliff, Finn held the end of a stout rope. As Camille watched in growing horror, he passed the rope to a couple of kids—a boy, and a girl who looked very much like Julie. She and the boy held the robe between them and ran to the edge of the cliff.
Then recognition dawned on Camille, as stark as her darkest memories, as her daughter took a free fall from the cliff.
Camille loaded the last of the luggage into the car, struggling to close the trunk. After a trip, she always seemed to bring home more baggage than she’d left with.
They didn’t need to head to the airport until much later, but she wanted to make sure everything was ready.
Finn drove into the courtyard and parked. He regarded the packed car. “You’re leaving,” he said. Not a question.
Camille’s heart skipped a beat. She had a brief, wild fantasy that he would beg her to stay—or vow to come to the States with her. And then what? “I’m taking Julie and my dad home,” Camille said.
“You’re supposed to be here another two weeks.”
“I changed our tickets.”
“Because of what happened yesterday?”
She winced, remembering the horrible, surreal moment of Julie’s wild leap into the sea. “Because of a lot of things. Watching my kid plunging off a cliff is only part of it.”
“She’s safe,” he said. “Nothing happened, except she had a great time. You ought to be proud of having a kid who’s adventurous. I know I would be.”
Finn didn’t get it. He never would. The only way to protect her daughter was to keep her away from risks—like Finn. “My God, you were there, encouraging her!”
“She didn’t need any encouragement. Camille, you can’t keep her wrapped in cotton all her life. At some point, you have to trust your own kid.”
“You don’t get to say when that is,” she lashed out.
“I didn’t have to. She’s brave and she’s smart.”
“Being brave and smart doesn’t keep her safe. You have no idea what it’s like to be a parent.”
“True, I don’t. But that’s not what this is about. It’s not about Julie either,” he said, his eyes flashing with an anger she’d never seen in him before. “It’s about her father.”
The dart hit home, but Camille refused to flinch. “You don’t know anything about him.”
“Also true, because you refuse to talk about it.”
“He was brave, too,” she said. “And smart. And he got himself killed.”
“And that sucks for you and Julie and for everyone who loved him,” Finn said. “But what happened to him doesn’t mean you have to shut down your life, hoping it won’t happen to someone else.”
“And it nearly did happen yesterday,” she said, feeling a wave of icy fear. “So don’t tell me—”
“How about you tell me. How did he die, Camille? Why don’t you ever talk about it?”
She didn’t think there was any way to make him understand. But he deserved some kind of explanation. She leaned against the car, folding her arms in front of her. “It was a climbing accident. And seeing Julie swinging off a cliff was like watching him die all over again.”
His expression softened. “Ah, Camille. Damn, I . . . why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it was horrible, and I’m trying to keep it in the past and move on,” she said, her voice breaking.
He touched her then, slowly and gently drawing her into his arms. “Oh, baby. I’m sorry. But keeping it buried isn’t the same as moving on. Talk to me. I want to know.”
She pulled away from the comfort he offered and walked over to a shaded bench in the courtyard, letting the cool shadows surround her. Finn sat beside her, silent and waiting.
Camille took a deep breath. She watched a butterfly making its way through the colorful stalks of hollyhocks along the ancient stone wall, first one bell-shaped blossom and then another, and then back again, as if it couldn’t make up its mind.
“We were at Cathedral Gorge on vacation,” she said. “Jace and I were roped together, and we were abseiling down to the riverbed from the top. The rope was secured to three safety points—the cliff edge, a boulder . . . and me. There was a sound I’ll never forget, like a huge plucked string, and the rope around the boulder loosened. He lost his footing and fell.” She paused, feeling the sensation of the rope tightening, biting into her, her gear and clothing scraping as she was dragged to the edge.
Finn covered her hand with his. She stared down at it, then carefully drew away, not wanting him to feel the icy memories. “I hung on as best I could,” she continued, “but I started to go over. I screamed at Jace to catch a handhold. I screamed . . . and when I turned to look, I saw him . . .” She paused again, still haunted by the memory. “He cut the rope and fell.”
Her screams had damaged her throat for weeks afterward. It had taken a full year for her fingernails to grow back. “There was an inquest. The ruling was that Jace had followed the only reasonable course open to him under the circumstances. He sacrificed himself to avoid taking me down with him.”
Finn was silent for several moments. He took both her hands in his. “What a nightmare. I’m sorry, Camille. I’m sorry you went through that.”
She forced herself to look at him—that face, those eyes and lips—and she wavered. Then she reminded herself that she didn’t want anyone to love her that much again, so much that he would die for her. “So that’s it. That’s why I’m going home.”
“It was a one-in-a-million freak accident.”
“Yesterday was a horrible reminder that it could happen again. I’m done, Finn. You asked for an explanation, and that’s it.”
“Have you ever told this to Julie? I mean, the details . . .”
“No. She knows the rope failed and her dad fell.”
“Guess what else she knows,” Finn said. “She knows the world ended that day.”
“What?”
“She told me that last night. After you freaked out and dragged her home from the beach, I talked to her about it. And like you pointed out, I don’t know what it’s like to have a kid, but it’s probably not the best idea for her to think everything was over when you lost the guy.”