Chapter 2

In the morning, Helen rose early, showered, started the coffee and went to the bakery for a baguette and croissants. As she ate, the orange cat appeared, watching her silently. She went to speak to him, reaching out to let him smell her fingers. He stretched to rub his cheek against them and Helen rubbed his head. Unlike many of his fellows, he was clean and shiny and the sun had warmed his fur. She felt a connection begin between them and withdrew her hand. 'I can't, ' she thought, 'I can't dare trust you either.'

She cleaned up and went downstairs again, now along the beach, walking briskly, now in the deeper sand, now on the damp, packed sand below the tide mark. The early sun was warm on her body, the water chilly on her feet. There were only a few people about, some jogging, some walking. One of the men trotted past, said "Good morning" and ran on. Belatedly Helen realized he'd spoken English.

The sun grew warmer as she walked. After a stretch of deep sand, she walked out into the water to get the grit off her feet and legs, dipping into the chill, salty water. When she came back on the beach, the man who had spoken English came trotting back along the sand. This time, he spoke French.

"Good morning, may I ask you a question or two?" He was about Helen's age, a little taller and good looking with rather wild, light brown hair. His body was firm, though not athletic. He took in Helen's body with the same assessing glance she had used.

"Pourquoi moi?" Helen asked both him and herself. Then, amused, "Pourquoi non?" And after another brief thought, "Or would you rather speak English?"

"Well, that's fine with me, but I'm happy in either language. I'm American. You?"

Helen smiled and began walking back toward the city. "I guess I'm American, too. That's one of my passports: I'm a citizen by birth. Usually Americans can hardly speak English, you know." She smiled at him, but he just shrugged at her jibe. She went on. "But I'm really just European - an EU citizen. Dad was American, mother Swedish; I grew up in France and Germany, and that's the way I am. Hardly ever been in America." She repeated, "Why are you asking me questions?"

He fell in beside her, walking with the sun in their faces. "I've seen you walking here a lot. Even when it's cold and the wind eats you alive. I guess you live here."

"Yes, and I like to walk this beach," Helen answered. "It makes me feel good. Even when it's crowded in the summer. I love this place. Why are you here?"

"Well, I live here, too. In Cap d'Agde, that is. I come here because I like to be nude and to run, get some exercise. And, my store is over there," he gestured inland, "so it's convenient."

"What store is that?" Helen looked in the direction of his gesture, but there was nothing visible except the dunes, and behind them, the scattered trees of the campground.