This is the ending of the story I first shared on the Bickering Blogfest. You can read it here if you want. However, in this story of dreams, the milestone is reached when my hero, Cassie, opens her French – inspired bistro at a little beach village in Sunny Queensland. Lots of sensuous food…and more! Read on…Please indulge me. I just had to include some pics...to complete the escapism...
I finished my run along the beach, then jogged towards the village. There it was, Cassie’s by the Sea. My heart did a little flip. I wondered how long before I could look at my bistro and not go all ga ga. Maybe never, and that was probably a good thing.
The outdoor eating area was already filling, the cheery blue awnings providing relief from the midday sun. My customers were studying menus, deciding between the fish or the steak. I smiled at them as I passed by, double checking that little pots of roses had been placed on each table. They smiled back and called out:
'This is the life!’
‘What a day!’
‘Enjoy your walk?’
I felt their warmth, their regard for me. I couldn’t help basking in the glow. This was my life, my happiness. The only regret I had was that it had taken me so long to realise that not only had Michael never shared my dream, he was not the man of my dreams.
I pushed through the two-way door leading into the kitchen. I slowly inhaled the exquisite aromas. ‘Yum,’ I sighed blissfully, looking around. François was hunched over the range, stirring a creamy béarnaise sauce. His dark black hair was partially hidden under his chef’s hat, but I loved the way stray locks fell over his forehead.
François put the first serve of oven frites in to warm—you can’t have a French bistro without potato chips! Then there were desserts, works of art like you’d find in the patisseries of Paris, but with an emphasis on fruit rather than cream.
I had found treasures in France, but François was no museum piece, he was far more precious. He was the rarest, most amazing find. ‘There is nothing like a dream to create the future’ I whispered to myself.
‘Hello darling.’ I put my arms around his back and hugged him. He turned to me, his face flushed with his culinary efforts, and kissed me lingeringly, his long artistic fingers entwining mine. ‘Ah, chérie,’ he sighed. ‘How’s our bébé?’ He gently placed his hands on my stomach, loving me and the new life I carried. François took a deep breath, inhaling my scent. ‘Oh, chérie, you smell of the beach, so Australian.’
‘Ah, and you smell of the kitchen, so French!’ I giggled.
‘Ah,’ he murmured, content, ‘the best of both worlds!’
I often think about dreams. I’ve learned that when we are dreaming alone it is often only a dream, but when we are dreaming with a special someone, that is reality.