Born Again

"I don't want this to end," Juliette whispered, cuddling against me while lying on a beach one afternoon. We both had rather healthy tans, and despite the great food and beer, we were making sure we stayed fit by finding a gym or going for morning runs.

"There's no rush for you to get back now, at least."

"But we can't stay on holiday forever."

Juliette knew I had some money after everything that happened back home, not surprised that she didn't blame me for making the deal considering the circumstances, but I was realistic in that a million bucks wouldn't last forever. And given that I was now basically looking after both of us, as Juliette didn't have much in the way of savings, I was spending more than anticipated. I didn't care, as every cent I spent was worth it, but I had to keep in mind that I would like to settle down after all this too. And a million Australian dollars isn't as much as people probably think it is.

"We'll finish Croatia and head south to Greece," I stated, "We'll explore Athens, head to a couple of islands to take in the last bits of warmth before autumn really hits, and then we'll fly home."

She lifted her head at that word. "Home?"

"My home is going to be with you, Juliette."

"I love you," she whispered, kissing me softly.

It wasn't the first time she'd said those words to me, but it was the first time I'd called anywhere she would be 'home'. I knew we both had some difficult decisions to make in the near future. For the moment, though, we were going to enjoy our lives together and let the future take care of itself.

"I love you," I whispered back, rolling her over and glancing to our left and right. There was no-one within twenty metres of either side, and after moving a few pieces of fabric, I watched her eyes fill with desire as I slowly sank my cock inside her.

If you're going to make love on a beach, make sure you do it on a towel. Sand still gets everywhere, but it wasn't as bad as some people make it sound. We agreed that we preferred making love on a bed... or the backseat of a car... or the front of a car... or a couch...

Let's just say there's a long list of places better than a beach.

We finally had to give in and drive south to Dubrovnik though in the end, that wasn't our final stop. We crossed the border into Montenegro, and we'd heard wonderful things about a town called Kotor. It lived up to its reputation and we had a fantastic few days there before finally giving in and heading to the capital to catch a flight to Greece.

Athens was interesting from the perspective of being interested in history, but with all the social and economic problems, we probably left quicker than expected, escaping to hop around a couple of islands. We preferred the smaller islands that felt more traditional than the larger, more popular destinations.

After a couple of weeks, I could sense Juliette was eager to get home. Even I was growing weary of the travel, having been on the road for a few months by now. I had always intended on staying somewhere for at least a couple of months while on my travels so returning with Juliette to Orleans made sense. Waking up one morning, Juliette cuddled into me as always, I told her that I was happy to return home as soon as she wanted.

We flew to Athens the next morning, connected to Paris, and caught a train to Orleans, arriving outside her apartment just before midnight after a tiring day of travel. Staggering into her apartment, we dumped our things in the small living room and headed straight for her bathroom, enjoying a hot, relaxing shower, before we dried off and tumbled into her bed, both of us passing out rather quickly.

Waking up late the next morning, there was nothing in the house to eat so first was a stop at the nearby café for breakfast. Nothing more than a croissant, a coffee and for Juliette, a cigarette. Aware I was a non-smoker; she would always pop a mint after smoking. When I suggested that it was a sign that she loved me, she retorted, "I'll eventually give it up for you, Mark. Though maybe when I'm pregnant..."

We hadn't exactly had that conversation yet. I knew she wanted children as she was aware I already had my own. I still wasn't near forty and having more children didn't concern me. Given she was thirty-one, she was a little younger than I was, but she assumed that falling pregnant wouldn't be a problem.

Breakfast was followed by shopping at the large Carrefour on the outskirts of the city. And here I thought all the French still did their shopping at various shops including the boulangerie, bouchers and fromagerie. When I joked with Juliette about that, she playfully slapped my upper arm, and told me to behave, before telling me she always got her bread from the nearest boulangerie.

"Mark, I will obviously need to return to work soon," she told me a couple of days later.

"Managed to get your old job back?"

"Of course. She's an old friend and made sure my replacement knew it was only temporary. My question was what you would do during the day?"

"I guess I need to do something. Given I can legally work here, what do you suggest?"

"Given your knowledge of Italian, that should help you learn French quicker. I can offer two immediate suggestions. I reckon you'd be perfect working a bar, or you can give English lessons."

"Maybe do the latter one for a while, work on my French, then do the former later?"

Juliette grinned. "That's perfect. Just remember that I work the day shift most of the time so try not to work too many nights when you do end up behind a bar."

"You could come keep me company to stop all the other pretty girls flirting with me."

She looked at me and smiled. "I guess hearing that a handsome Australian man is working behind the bar would spread quickly. If you manage to get a handle on French rather quickly..." She paused and her eyes narrowed. "Actually, I'm not sure about this idea now."

I picked her up and tickled her before we ended up kissing on the bed. Clothes were removed and any talk about employment was suddenly nowhere near as important as making love for the rest of the day.

As she would be starting at work the next Tuesday, as her restaurant was closed on a Monday. On Saturday, she was rather nervous when we hopped on the tram heading into the suburbs, squeezing my hand tightly as we were heading to her parents for lunch. I understood why as I was the first man that she was taking to meet her parents since her divorce. I was warned that her father was docile and would welcome me, but her mother would give me the third degree before giving me her trust.

We walked down your typical suburban street in a French city, with small houses to either side, and a line of cars parked which meant there was little room to move. Opening the small gate, I followed Juliette along the small path before she opened the front door, calling out "Bonjour!"

Her father appeared through a doorway, his face lighting up at seeing his daughter, taking her in his arms and kissing both cheeks. They gabbled in French for the next couple of minutes before she turned and stood at his side. "Papa, I would like you to meet my boyfriend, Mark. Mark, this is my father, Henri."

Offering his hand, I took it and smiled. "Pleasure to meet you, Mister Renard."

He immediately waved his other hand. "No. Please, call me Henri," he said in English. I had a feeling he wasn't exactly fluent, but considering I'd spoken in French, I think he would have appreciated it. Then her mother appeared from what I assumed was the kitchen, an apron over her blouse and skirt. She hugged her daughter tightly, and I couldn't help smiling at the genuine love and affection on display.

To my slight surprise, Juliette was proven wrong about her mother. She stood before me, diminutive and petite just like her daughter, and looked me up and down in silence for thirty seconds, before her face lit up in a smile, dragging my head down to kiss my cheeks. "I'm so pleased to meet you, Mark. I'm Georgine," she stated, "Juliette has messaged us nearly every day while you were travelling. Come, come. You both must be hungry. Would you like a drink? Do you like wine? French wine? Or maybe you'd like a beer?"

As I was dragged to the dining room, Juliette shot me a bemused but happy look, hearing Henri chuckling to himself, probably surprised himself at my welcome. I finally found my tongue and politely asked for a beer, a bottle of a popular Belgian beer quickly placed in front of me with an accompanying glass.

Juliette, her mother and father were soon nattering away in French for a few minutes, and I just knew I was the topic of conversation as my girlfriend was left blushing more than once. Henri then asked an important question. "How long do you intend on staying in France?"

"I'm not entirely sure, being completely honest. I guess indefinitely, but it will depend on what happens with Juliette."

"How do you mean?" Georgine wondered.

"Well, when we get married, I would be wondering if she would come to Australia with me or not. But I'm aware she is your only child..."

"You have discussed marriage?" her mother asked, unable to hide the smile, "Is that not a little..."

"We just spent a couple of months travelling together, Mum," Juliette stated, "Yes, it's not like living at home and living normal lives, but considering how stressful travelling can be..." She stopped and moved over to sit on my lap, looping her arms around me. "What matters is that we're together at the moment and that I love him."

Lunch was fantastic and incredibly filling. Mother and father both inundated me with plenty of questions. My divorce did come up as I didn't want to hide anything, nor the fact that I had children. Having to explain that took some translating by Juliette so they understood exactly what happened. Georgine had some words to say in French that didn't need translating, but her soft hand on mine, squeezing affectionately, suggested that she did understand what I'd been through.

Leaving in the early evening, her father shook my hand before her mother hugged me tightly. Asking me to lean down, she whispered a very simple sentence in English for me.

"Please look after and love our daughter."

I assured her that's exactly what I would do.

*****

Two years later...

I'd grown to love little French bistros. Helped that I now spoke French, still with an accent which did provide amusement, but being multilingual did have its advantages. As soon as I was confident with French, I figured I would remain a tutor of English but expand from only teaching youngsters to applying to colleges to teach people of any age. I found it all rather rewarding.

Juliette was sitting at my side, holding my right hand with her left. On her third finger was a pair of rings with a diamond in each that positively sparkled. Her brown eyes met mine and I couldn't remember a time that Carly had ever looked at me with such love. I'd asked Juliette's father before proposing, unsure if that was something done. Her mother adored me even more for it, and when we arrived at their place the morning after I'd proposed, I think the rest of Orleans learned about our proposal within the next forty-eight hours.

Telling my parents that I'd proposed and intended to marry Juliette as soon as possible, I paid the airfares for my parents, my sisters, their parents and children, and also my friends, their parents and children, to fly over to Orleans. By the time they arrived in Paris, it had been well over eighteen months since I'd seen my family in the flesh. What made it better was that my mother fell in love with Juliette almost immediately.

"I love her more than your ex-wife," she told me in confidence within a couple of days.

I was raised a Catholic like my mother but no longer practising. Juliette was not religious, so I was happy to marry her in a civil ceremony. All my friends absolutely adored Juliette, and her friends loved me. Even better was the travel of distant relatives from Bari to join us. Mum could barely contain her joy the entire time.

There was one final surprise during the reception, Juliette getting to her feet as I was making a toast. Taking my hand, she pressed it to her belly and simply smiled at me. It took me a few seconds to figure it out before my jaw dropped. "Really?" She managed to nod, blinking rapidly before I asked, "You're sure?"

"The doctor confirmed it a couple of days ago."

When our daughter was born six months later, I'd long agreed with Juliette that I wanted my little girl to have a name of French origin to reflect her mother's roots. We eventually chose Charlotte, which is a popular name in the English-speaking world, but its origins were found in France.

"Would you like to try for a son?" she asked, breaking my chain of thoughts.

"Huh?"

Juliette giggled as I'd been glancing at her finger with the rings. She truly had no idea how much I loved her, loved being married to her, and how it was her love and understanding that had helped me feel whole again. Sure, I'd said as much in words, but I was still a broken man the day I'd sat down in the restaurant where she'd worked. Taking my hand, she leaned over to kiss my cheek. "My parents have asked if we plan on having more than one child," she said, "They adore babysitting Charlotte, but wondered if we'd have one more."

"Would that be before or after we return to Australia?"

"Hmmm. Maybe we can wait a little longer so we can have one child born in my homeland and one child in yours." Moving her chair, she leaned against me as I wrapped an arm around her. "Mark... Do you still think about them?"

"Every day," I said softly, "You know that."

"I do. I'm just..." She snuggled a little more into me. "I've never met them, but I've seen all their pictures, and I do think about them too."

Arriving home a little later after picking up our daughter, she was just starting to talk and walk. The plan was to raise her to be bilingual so she would speak French at home, even after we moved to Australia, and I was even thinking of teaching her at least a little Italian.

We were slowly organising our lives for my return to Australia. Juliette would have a temporary spousal visa before we could make it permanent. I would be returning a couple of months earlier to organise a place for us to live, intending to only rent for a month or two before she arrived, and we'd start looking at purchasing our own home. My father assured me I would just resume my profession as a tradesman as soon as I was settled back home.

I had enjoyed living in France. Before we'd married and started a family, we had completed travelling to a few of the other places I'd wanted to visit, usually heading off for long weekends. But once I had a handle on the French language, I found that I enjoyed driving Juliette around the French countryside, stopping at quaint little towns and villages, and seeing the reaction of people as I'd speak fluent French with an obvious Australian accent. It led to plenty of laughter at times.

Juliette owned the apartment and didn't want to sell it, so we agreed to just rent it out. Although it was likely we'd return to France to visit, her parents were close to retirement age and planning on following us. I'd told them as retirees not to move to Sydney but either somewhere up the north or down the south coast. I'd given them plenty of ideas, but they wouldn't be following us for at least a couple of years.

Lying in bed a couple of months before I was leaving, I asked, "Are you still sure about moving?"

"Definitely. I love France, but while I will miss my friends, I have an incredibly small family. You have a much larger family, and I adored your friends when they were here. And once my parents join us, I'll be fine."

"If it doesn't work, we can always come back."

She lifted her head off my chest and met my eyes. "You really mean that, don't you?"

"Definitely. I love you for the simple fact you're willing to go with me, but I also know what you're sacrificing by doing it. I love living here too, but I do miss home. I know you will be feeling the same after a couple of years."

"While that might be the case, I'll have your family, my family, your and our friends, and much more to ensure I don't feel lost. Most importantly, I will be with you, Mark, and our child will be with us. That's the only thing that really matters to me."

"I just don't want either of us to have any major regrets."

"If I'm feeling down, I'll just talk to my husband about it, and I know he'll make me feel better."

"Hugs and kisses?"

"And snuggles in bed. Definitely love snuggling with my husband when we're naked... Particularly if we've just finished making love."

"And they say men have one-track minds when it comes to sex!"

Juliette snorted, making herself laugh. "I think I've proven since we met that I love sex as much as you do, Mark."

"They often joke about French men being romantic and great lovers. Or is that Italians? Anyway, seems like French women are underrated."

"Or maybe you just found the right French woman?"

Leaving one hell of a kiss on my lips, it shouldn't be a real surprise that she ended up on her back before we joined, her eyes lighting up with pleasure as we spent the next half an hour making love. Even after months of dating, then preparing for a wedding, then over a year of marriage, it felt like we were still in that honeymoon period. It honestly scared me sometimes how much I loved her.

I guess there was still that small part of my mind that remembered what happened with Carly, and I was scared it would happen again. I didn't believe Juliette would ever do something like that to me, and I trusted her completely. It was one of those thoughts you hate yourself for thinking when you had no reason to ever distrust the person you loved.

The day I flew out of Paris back to Sydney was rather emotional for everyone. Her parents joined us, and I hugged her mother and shook hands with her father. They were both looking forward to joining us in Australia, having done plenty of research and ideas of where they would like to visit once they arrived. Hugging my daughter and wife, I barely kept my eyes dry. My daughter didn't quite understand that Papa was leaving for a little while but that she would soon be joining him with Mama.

"Marco!" Mum shouted out when I walked through the doors of the Arrivals Hall at Sydney Airport. She spent at least five minutes hugging me while crying into my chest. She finally let me go enough to leave a big wet kiss on each cheek before I was left to comfort two deliriously happy but crying little sisters. When I was finally given a moment, I shook hands with my father before he dragged me in for a hug too.

"Missed you, Dad," I stated. He had to clear his throat and lean back, resting a hand on my shoulder, that look a father gives his son that spoke of unconditional love but incapable of saying anything.

Spending a fortnight at home with my parents was fantastic in the sense I was around my family, with my two sisters visiting nearly every night, sitting to either side of me on the couch as I regaled them with stories of my travels around Europe and also how much I enjoyed living in France, but it was a reminder that I also needed to find a place of my own for Juliette and my daughter.

I kept in constant communication with my wife, ensuring I found the sort of place that would make her happy. In the end, she simply said that she trusted me, and that we would only be renting temporarily. She obviously knew about the money I had in an account, and my financial advisor had helped me build up my savings with various options that meant the money I'd left untouched had grown.

Remembering that I had furniture in storage, having emptied my old townhouse before I'd left, I found a rental place reasonably close to my family, ensuring everything was prepared for the arrival of my wife and child. I was ever so excited when I arrived at the airport on the day that they were flying in. When my wife appeared through the doors, with my daughter sitting on top of the luggage, she stopped the trolley as my daughter hopped off and managed to make it into my arms without falling over. Juliette couldn't stop crying as she crashed into my body, thankfully the other side of my body.