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until morning, do you? Its still the middle of the night where you are, isnt it?" Fabrice could hear the teasing smile in his Papas words. "Ill be there in five minutes Papa and my croissants better be ready!" He rung off with a grin then leaped out of bed, more than a little curious about this letter. He got to the boulangerie just as his father was unlocking the door for the two customers already waiting outside. Fabrice greeted his Papa with a kiss. Louec Le Gall drew his son into the shop and waved his customers in before closing the door behind him. He directed Fabrice to the letter behind the counter before moving to serve the newly returned Mme Divanach and her son. Fabrice greeted them both before picking up the envelope. When he picked it up and turned it around in his hands he was even more curious about it. All it said was "FABRICE Le GALL." There was no stamp and no return name or address. The handwriting was exquisite on the soft lavender scented envelope. He quickly tore it open. Fabrice breathed in the lavender before he started reading the words. As their beauty unfolded before his stunned eyes he didnt realise hed forgotten to exhale until his breath left him in a sudden and loud rush. His Papa looked at him with concern. "Fabrice! What is it?" Fabrice looked up, desperately trying to compose himself so he could word his thoughts coherently. Long seconds of silence followed. He should have known he was beyond composure. Mme. Divanach walked over to him and smiled gently. "Are you ok, little one?" She had called him this since he was a boy and although she only reached up to Fabrices biceps in height now he always felt like her "little one" whenever he looked into her eyes. He reached for the hand that was rubbing his arm and smiled at her, immediately easing her concern. "Dont worry, Mme. Divanach. It was not bad news, the opposite in fact." He bent down to kiss her on the cheek, waved at his confused Papa and was gone. His Papa shrugged his shoulders at the Divanachs. "He forgot his croissants. The second coming couldnt separate Fabrice from his food. That must have been a hell of a letter!" Fabrice returned home only to retrieve his car and wind-surf. Being out on the sea always helped when he had a lot to think about. He got in behind the wheel and placed the poem carefully on the front passenger seat. He stroked the words with his fingers. In time he would feel only frustration that the writer had not revealed herself to him. But for now it was enough to know that she sent such beautiful words his way; pure in their honesty and real in their love. It was early evening by the time Fabrice returned to Locronan. He needed to see his Maman. When he pulled up at his childhood home he saw her in the garden


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picking some fresh herbs for dinner. She stood to wave at him when he got out of the car. She could tell from the look on her sensitive sons face that something was on his mind. She left her herb basket at the front door and walked over to Fabrice who watched her approach but made no effort to move to her. Marie reached for her sons hand and patted it gently before drawing him into the house. When they got to the front door Fabrice reached down to retrieve his Mamans herbs and they both walked into the kitchen. "Fabrice, es tu triste?" "A petit peu Maman." Fabrices Maman looked at her son with concern. Like any Maman, even the Maman of fully grown sons, she never liked it when Fabrice or Yann were sad. "You will stay for dinner, mon petit. Papa will be home soon and we will all eat on the patio. Il fait chaud ce soir, non? Fabrice smiled at his Maman and kissed her on both cheeks before nodding in agreement. It was indeed another warm evening in Brittany. They prepared dinner together in comfortable silence; Marie knew her son would speak to her when he was ready and Fabrice knew, as he had since he was a young boy, that being with his Maman in her kitchen was the most empowering place to be. When the dinner preparations were over Marie led her son out onto the patio and sat him down with a glass of his favourite sweet cidre. She sat and sipped her mineral water while she waited for him to speak. When he didnt, she spoke gently to him in Breton. "Fabrice, what has made you so sad?" "I dont know, Maman. I just dont feel good about my life right now. I am 30. I thought I would be a husband and father by this time but it has not happened yet. Am I wrong to want these things, Maman?" Marie thought carefully about her answer before giving it. She had suspected for months that Fabrices heart was not in his relationship with Martine but did not want to interfere with the path her youngest son had chosen. "Mon petit, you are a man with a very demanding heart, even when you were a little boy. But I never doubted for one moment that you would always possess the courage to follow its demands. What is your heart telling you, mon petit?" Fabrice reached into his jacket pocket for the poem. He handed it to his Maman without hesitation and waited while she read it. She looked up at him in stunned silence after she had read it through several times. "These are the words of a very beautiful soul, mon petit. Who wrote this?" "I do not know, Maman. I do not know a lot of things. But I do know I want this woman for me. I want this beauty in my life, Maman. But she has no name! Why would she do this? I felt so uplifted this morning