The Frenchman's Table next chapter

Precious the Few
Yves held the girls tightly, their tear-streaked faces pressed against his chest, a futile attempt to shield them from the impending storm. His fingers, gentle yet firm, wiped away their tears as he murmured assurances of love, reminding them of their mother's enduring affection. Their little bodies trembled with sobs, and Yves, his mind racing through grim possibilities, felt the urgency for their escape approaching. Instructing the children to pack what they could carry and wear for warmth, he delved out the passports to the household. "Keep these on you at all times." Though Tom and Paula were absent to collect theirs, he shoved them into his pockets, an uncertain decision in the tumult of uncertainty. Holding Paula's passport, he stood by the kitchen window, gazing into the past, memories of their love flooding his mind. How he loved that woman so- from the moment he had met her.
Recollections of Paula walking into the pub, right past him. From the taverns' warm glow, he observed her profile and smile. John had been ribbing him all day about getting out and loosening up a little. He was glad he did. Yet, he hadn't caught her attention initially, letting John make the first move. He sat there the rest of the night, absorbing the laughter and conversations. Her friends flirted endlessly at him, but he was drawn to her beauty and came across as aloof. He was sure by the end of the night; her friends thought he was a jerk. Love, unpredictable and spontaneous, burgeoned in Yves' heart. As months elapsed, he found himself unable to shake thoughts of her despite her growing connection with John. He wished for her sake that John would take it more seriously and cut out some of his shenanigans. John's transient lifestyle, filled with different women and varied ports, posed challenges. There had been times, like on Paula's birthday-which John forgot; where Yves had shown up as a good friend with flowers and a small gift-only to have John pretend he had given the gifts and take credit with a casual, "I owe you, man."
Paula never knew about John's cheating. She loved John and Yves didn't want her to be crushed. Yves guarded John's indiscretions, preserving the sanctity of Paula's love. Even as time marched on, he remained a silent custodian of his best friend's secrets, his heart unwaveringly devoted to Paula and the girls. Sarah had grown very quiet over the last few days. She missed her brother, and now Paula was gone too. Yves found her sitting at the table alone, an air of melancholy surrounding her. She had not gotten herself ready like the others were doing that morning. "Hey, you doing, okay?" he asked. She nodded solemnly. "Sure?" he prodded further. Tears welled up, and between sniffles, she admitted, "No." "Come here." Yves offered a sturdy shoulder as she leaned against him, her tears dampening his shirt. Attempting to comfort her, he murmured, "Sarah, we will keep looking for Tom too." "But we can't leave here; he won't know where to go," she blurted. "We will have to go, Sarah. We can't risk being discovered here." "But he won't know where we are," she protested. "I have my contacts out there searching for Tom and Paula. But honestly, honey, our time is running out. I'm going out again to see if I can find them." "Sarah, Tom is pretty smart for his age. We'll leave him clues. He'll recognize them." "What, where?" Grabbing the butter knife and bending down beneath the tabletop, Yves invited Sarah down to the floor.