Free Love Is Lovelier by Jean Brashear Page A

different.
    Maybe he should just split. If he weren’t around, the Corbins would have to give up on—
    Who was he kidding? They’d replace him with someone much worse, someone who had no emotional ties to these women and their struggle.
    He had to stay.
    And he had to find some answers.
    Quick.

CHAPTER SIX
    A NNE GAVE UP on sleep at 3:00 a.m. and rose from the bed that had once been a refuge. At the moment, she wished she’d kept the one she and Remy had shared. Replacing it had been one of those futile efforts a widow makes, trying to signal—to herself as much as her ghosts—that she is ready to move on. That she has gotten over losing the man who inhabited it with her.
    Blast it, Remy, why did you go off and leave me? But her lips curved faintly as she could almost hear his response. Now, chère, he’d drawl with that cocky grin that had first charmed her and never quit, you’re a sensible woman. Surely you see that I would never leave ma doucette, less’n that ole devil Satan catch up with me. For as sure as sin, it’s lovin’ you more than le bon Dieu that’s gonna get me in trouble, but you are worth the price, chère.
    He’d said it a thousand times, that he was damned for loving her more than God, but it was a price he’d gladly pay.
    She didn’t believe it, though. Remy Marchand was many things, but chief among them, a good man with a huge heart. The God in whom she placed her faith would have seen that and welcomed him to heaven with open arms.
    They’d talked about being alone a few times, but mostly she’d dodged a subject she couldn’t bear to think about. It still hurt her that he had died with her thousands of miles away, no matter that she’d taken Melanie to Italy at Remy’s urging, to help their daughter recover from her divorce. Not being able to say goodbye was a cruelty that was still a ragged tear inside Anne’s heart. Her only consolation was that they’d told each other many times a day how much each was loved, and showed it in a thousand other ways.
    Remy had forced her to listen, more than once, to something she hadn’t wanted to hear. You are a woman with so much love to give a man. When I am gone, don’t stay alone long. He’d grinned and continued, of course you will miss me, doucette—how could you not? I am a magnificent specimen .
    She’d laughed and tried to change topics, but on one occasion, he’d insisted that she hear him all the way through. With serious eyes, he’d held her in place. I’m not sayin’ I like the idea of you with another man—and heaven help the ones who might try while I’m still here—but it would hurt my heart, ma belle, for you to be alone when I know what it is to see you happy and safe. Mais yeah, you can take care of yourself, but if some good man comes along who knows how to love you, you take him up on it, écoutes?
    She’d refused to agree, had distracted him with kisses flavored with the tears that erupted whenever the slightest thought of losing him appeared. But when her sorrow had quieted and she’d settled into his strong embrace, he’d whispered to her once more. I mean it, Annie Belle. You don’t have to agree now, but you remember I said it.
    She took up her favorite picture of him, snapped in Tuscany during one of the few vacations they’d taken. Oh, Remy, why didn’t we spend more time playing? The snapping blue-green eyes, bright with laughter, seemed to answer her. We were building something, chère, and there was fun in doing it.
    That was Remy. Worked hard, played hard. Sometimes difficult to distinguish the two, as he was never happier than in a steamy kitchen, unless it was surrounded by his girls.
    Or making love to her.
    There is a man , she told his picture. A good man who wants to love me, I think. Who tries to take care of me already. He would be wonderful at it, if only I’d let him. But Remy…it’s William. How would you feel about that? Would you still mean what you said?
    The face in the photo