Paul went to the bar for their drinks.
As her eyes adjusted to the soft lighting, she saw a verse of scripture painted on the wall behind her, in English. When Paul returned with his coffee and her chocolate, Allee said, “I don’t believe I read about this little establishment in my guide book. What’s the deal?”
Paul laughed. “The travel writers overlooked one of my favorite night spots? Shocking.” He sipped his coffee. “One of the big English-language churches of Paris operates this coffee bar. It started out as a safe haven for people who needed to avoid being where alcohol is served.” He nodded toward the band. “The music is great, and you don’t have to fight your way through a cloud of smoke. I guess it sort of caught on among the ex-pat community.”
“Nice.” Allee sampled her drink. “Mmm. Good hot chocolate.”
“I’m glad you like it. Drink up, while I go and talk to the band leader. What do you prefer? A cowboy waltz or maybe a traveling cha-cha?”
She cocked her head and stared at him for a moment. “Where did you pick up those terms?”
“Something I learned in college.” He smiled and folded his arms. “At the University of Texas.”
Allee laughed. “I believe I have been punked.”
Paul offered a fist bump. “Booyah!”
16
Very late that evening, back in her hotel room, Allee was still wide awake. In her pajama bottoms and T-shirt, she waltzed with herself in front of the full-length mirror, and lightly kissed her image. She knew she needed to go to sleep since she was meeting Paul for church the following morning. Her body was ready to retire for the evening but her emotions raced.
She fiddled with the electrical adapter to get her phone charging. There were seven texts from Tina. One reported her planned move to a rehab facility the following week, while the others were all questions about Allee’s earlier message that she had “met someone”. As usual, Tina wanted every scrap of information known to man. Allee smiled at the last text from Tina demanding name, rank and serial number.
Allee sent her best wishes for successful physical therapy. Then, with a mischievous grin, she added, “Chevalier, Captain, dk#” along with a selfie —wearing Tina’s red sweater and dancing with Paul.
No one other than Tina knew she was in Paris alone, so Allee planned to keep the conversation with her mother as short as possible. She only needed to check in and reassure her folks she wasn’t floating face-down in a Parisian sewer. With some laborious calculation, she figured out it was almost dinner time back home.
“Hello, Dad. How are you and Mom doing?” Allee leaned forward and hugged her knees.
Her father’s questions were not as probing as her mother’s usually were. “Allee? Are you still in France, sweetheart?”
“Yes, and having a wonderful time.” She described the box of French chocolates that was on its way and said she’d taken lots of pictures to share when she arrived home.
“Do you want me to get your mother?” Dad asked. “She’s out in the kitchen, cooking up a storm. We’re having Buck and Joanna and the Harvey family over for fried chicken.”
“No, don’t bother her if she’s busy.” Allee punched up the pillow behind her back. “Just tell her not to worry about me. I’ll touch base with you when I get on the plane to come home next Saturday. Kiss Mom and hug Bucky and Jo for me.” There now. No awkward questions and covered with her family through the end of her stay in Paris.
All caught up on communications, Allee unscrewed the cap of her nail polish. She set the bottle on the nightstand and replayed the evening while applying a fresh coat of color to her toenails. Paul turned out to be a wonderful dancing partner. Yet, if she was honest with herself, she knew his skill on the dance floor was only part of his appeal. There was something almost intoxicating about being held in his arms. Here I am, a grown woman, behaving like a moonstruck teenager. If only they had more time together, time to let their relationship develop into—what? Happily-ever-after? Maybe in Regency romance novels, but in one more week she’d be back to reality. She capped and put away her nail enamel. Even if this two-week slice of time was a dream-like departure from real life, she was determined not to allow its brevity to spoil her remaining time in Paris.
The buzz of her cell phone interrupted Allee’s reverie. “Tina. How’s the rehab going?”
“It’s beginning soon,” Tina said. “But enough about me. It looks as if my new red sweater is having a great time in Paris. Now, tell me all about that gorgeous Frenchman in the picture. You, of all people, actually talking to a stranger. And remember what I told you? Everything works out for the best. If I was there, I bet you wouldn’t have met him. Listen, if that guy is half as good as he looks, stuff him in the overhead bin and bring him home with you.”
“Slow down, Tina.” Allee couldn’t help laughing. “You know how people pose for pictures. It doesn’t mean anything.” She fanned her toes to make the polish dry. “I do want to ask you something, and don’t blow it all out of proportion.”
“Me? Act like a drama queen? Never! What’s the question?”
“How long did you know Alex before you realized you were in love with him?”
“I knew he was special right away. But, Allee, how long doesn’t matter. When you start to ask yourself ‘hey, am I falling for this guy?’ then you probably are. Does he speak English? I mean, it’s not all dancing and smooching or anything like that, is it?”
Allee held her phone out and did her best to send Tina a virtual frown. “As usual, Tina, you’re racing way ahead of me. Of course, he speaks English. He’s American. And for your information, not that it’s any of your business, there hasn’t been any kissing.”
“What? None? The way he was looking at you in that picture? Come on, Allee. Not even a little peck on the cheek or an air kiss on the hand like they do over there?”
“No, but maybe we’ll work up to that.”
“Get busy, girl. You’ve only got a week left.”
“Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it?” Allee wiggled her toes. Maybe those nails needed another coat. “Honestly, Tina, falling in love with this man would be so easy it scares me. But after another week, we’ll never see each other again. I need to protect my heart.”
“I should be there to be your coach. If my knee was working, I’d hop on the next plane to Paris.” Tina sighed audibly. “But if I wasn’t headed to rehab, I wouldn’t have called. Listen, Allee, we need to talk about our apartment. I wanted to wait until you got home, but there isn’t much time. The apartment manager reminded me our lease is up at the end of June.”
“I guess I’d lost track of that.” Allee chewed her lip. “Are you saying you don’t want to commit to another year of casseroles and chick flicks?”
“I’d love it, but I don’t know how long it’ll be before I can go up and down stairs, which makes living on the third floor without an elevator out of the question for now. Plus, it’ll be another month, minimum, before I can go back to work and then it has to be part-time, resulting in a wee bit of a cash flow issue.”
“So, what’s the plan?” Allee feared she wouldn’t like the answer.
“For once I’ll be sensible, like you. The only practical option is to move in with my sister and her family until I’m able to go back to work full-time. The apartment manager said she’ll have a one bedroom, furnished unit available in August, on the second story if you want it.”
“I’ll need to think about it.” Allee chewed her lip. “If I land a summer job right away, and if it pays enough, that could work. But that’s a lot of ifs.”
“Yeah. I understand. Well, listen, have a wonderful time romancing Sir Lancelot, and get some more wear out of that sweater. You look fabulous in it, by the way. Totally Lady Guinevere-ish. I should say someone French, but the only name that comes to mind is Marie Antoinette, and you know things turned out badly for her.”
After they finished talking, Allee sat with her chin on her knees. Money was tight e
ven with Tina sharing the rent and food costs. It would be difficult, if not impossible, to afford her own apartment before her teaching paycheck resumed in September. She shouldn’t have counted on getting a job as soon as school was out. It seemed as if she’d learned that lesson more than once before, but here it was again.
17
Allee came downstairs on Sunday morning, eager to go to church with Paul.
He was waiting in the lobby. “Good news,” he said. “The tour guide and museum worker strike is settled. Beginning tomorrow morning, it will be business as usual.”
“Oh, I’m so glad.” She couldn’t help noticing how marvelous he looked and smelled. “I really didn’t want to go home without seeing the Mona Lisa.” She tried not to gaze into his eyes, but her defenses weren’t working. “Although some of my best memories are of things you showed me on plan B.”
“My pleasure.” Paul shrugged and led her down the steps to the metro.
The contemporary church building was nothing like the historic old Notre Dame—no stained glass, no bell tower, no ornate carvings.
Paul spoke to several people as if they were well-acquainted.
For the first time, she experienced a pang of homesickness, realizing she was a stranger in the midst of a large congregation. However, as people greeted her, she began to be more at ease. After settling into a pew with Paul, she thought of the little girls in her Sunday school class. She visualized their sweet faces and prayed for each of them while the congregation filed into the Parisian sanctuary.
The music was beautiful, although somewhat more formal than Allee was accustomed to. She did her best to sing along with the rest of the congregation, but there was nothing she recognized among the hymn selections. When the choir sang, she was swept up in the recognition that people all over the world were worshiping on this June Sunday. Her mind sorted through memories of her home church in Montgomery, the country chapel of her childhood years, and the great cathedrals of Paris. They were so different in appearance, and yet there was a reliable unity among them. She thought how she would never again celebrate the Lord’s Day without remembering this exceptional experience.
Allee smiled when the minister’s thick Boston accent struck her ears. Focusing intently on the sermon, the message was quite similar to those she heard every week. “Thank you for bringing me here,” she said to Paul as they departed when the service was dismissed. “I loved it.”
“Did you really like it?” he asked, with what she interpreted to be an appraising look.
“Of course I did. What’s not to like?”
Instead of responding to her question, he posed one of his own. “How about a French delicacy for lunch? There’s a place not far from here that specializes in Croque Monsieur.”
“I read about that.” Allee laughed. “It’s kind of amazing how saying it in French makes a ham sandwich sound exotic.”
“Or you could go for a Croque Madame, which is a ham sandwich with a fried egg stacked on top.”
Wrinkling her nose, Allee said, “No thanks. I’ll stick with the original to fortify myself for the flea market you promised.”
“I hope you’re not disappointed.” Paul steered her toward the selected restaurant. “It won’t be exactly like what you would call a ‘flea market’ back home. The merchandise is more varied, an international assortment.”
“Perfect. I still need gifts for the girls in my Sunday school class. Maybe I’ll find something for them there.” Allee accepted a menu but did not open it. “Do you mind picking out my ham sandwich?”
Paul placed their order in his melodious French before fixing a curious gaze on Allee. “Your group is all female? Your Sunday school class, I mean.”
“Of course. Eight-year-old girls think boys are uncouth pests, strictly to be avoided.”
With his brows knit in confusion, he said, “Eight-year-olds? You teach Sunday school? I must say, you are full of surprises, Allee Bell.”
“I don’t know why you find that surprising.” Allee inserted the straw in her glass of water and took a cooling sip. “I am a teacher by trade, you know.”
“But you Sunday school teachers have to show up at church every Sunday.”
Leaning forward, she rested her hands on her cheeks and tried to sound conspiratorial. “Breaking news. I’m not there today.” They laughed together.
“Oh. I thought maybe you were a time traveler.”
“No,” Allee answered. “People are always confusing us shape shifters with time travelers.”
Paul chuckled at her quick response. “What I mean is that you must be faithful in attendance.”
“I am.” Allee was puzzled by his reaction. “I don’t have to go to church or teach Sunday school. I love being there. I’m a regular at Wednesday night Bible study, too.” May as well drop the whole bundle on him. “I’m not a Sunday morning Christian. My faith is at the core of who I am, all the time.”
The waiter set their sandwiches before them with a flourish.
After he left, Paul said, “I’m impressed by what you just told me, Allee.”
As always, she lifted the bread to investigate before eating her sandwich. “How often do you go to church?”
“Oh, you can’t put any stock in that. Remember, my ex-girlfriend called me a religious fanatic.”
Swallowing her first bite, Allee rolled her eyes. “How do they make their bread taste so fantastic?” She dabbed her napkin to her mouth. “You cleverly avoided answering my question.”
“Two or three times a week. Sunday morning, plus Bible study and choir practice.”
18
The flea market turned out to be everything Allee hoped for, and more. The stalls stretched out for what seemed like miles, with an eclectic collection of furniture, artwork, antiques, clothing, baskets, crafts, and souvenirs on display—and the food. She and Paul roamed, occasionally stopping to take a picture or dig through the bargains.
“What do you think?” She picked up a small drawstring bag, hand-embroidered with colorful flowers.
“Lovely.” Paul took the bag and held it next to his shirt. “I could wear it with my uniform.”
Allee snatched the bag, giggling. “Not for you, Mr. Fashionista, for my Sunday school girls.”
“What’s inside?”
“Nothing. They can use them for little purses, or store keepsakes inside.” Allee turned to the vendor. “What kind of fabric is this?”
When the woman responded with a blank stare, Paul spoke to her in French. “One hundred percent silk,” he translated for Allee. “That includes the silk ribbon embroidery.”
“Nice.” Allee gathered a variety of colors, to give each girl a unique hue. “I’d never find anything silk for this price at home.” She counted out money for her purchase.
“Extremely easy to pack,” he commented.
“Yes.” Allee caught her bottom lip between her teeth, realizing she was only a few days away from gathering her possessions and leaving Paris. “Easy.” Zipping her wallet, she said, “Now that the strike is over, I have to rearrange my itinerary to squeeze the museums into the next few days. Perhaps you can give me some recommendations over dinner.”
“I did too much sampling in the market,” Paul confessed.
“Me, too, but it was all so tempting.”
He shifted her package to his left hand. “Would you be interested in forgetting about your stash of vouchers and let me treat you to a light dinner?”
“That sounds so much better than a heavy meal. I never thought I’d say this, but I’m a little weary of rich food.”
He flashed his stunning smile. “I know just the place.” On the metro, Paul explained, “You’ve seen mostly old, historic Paris. Tonight, I want to take you to the new, modern part of the city.”
Before long, they stepped from a speedy elevator into a rooftop restaurant. The hostess seated Paul and Allee next to the plate glass windows. They sat side-by-side in overstuffed barrel chairs, with a panoramic view of the
city.
After a brief rundown of the menu selections, Allee chose a Cobb salad.
“That sounds good. I think I’ll have the same.” Paul passed the menus to the waiter and placed their order.
For several minutes, they sat in companionable silence in the almost-deserted restaurant. As the dusk evolved into twilight, the city lights winked and sparkled. “So, it’s the Louvre tomorrow?” Paul whispered.
“Yes,” Allee responded in a hushed tone. “I’d like to spend two days there, one with the skip-the-line recording, and another rambling on my own.”
“You’re aware the Louvre is closed on Tuesdays?”
Allee sighed. “Thank you for the reminder. I read about that, but it slipped my mind. Well, one day at the Louvre and nearby museums, one day at Musee d’Orsay and another art museum or two if there’s time, a day trip to Chartres to see the cathedral there, and some odds and ends like Napoleon’s tomb, the inside of the Arch, and the Tuileries gardens.”
“Needless to say, you don’t need me anymore. All of the museums have English tours. Choose your language, put in the earbuds, and away you go.”
Allee soothed her parched throat with a sip of water. He must be sick of squiring me around. “I suppose you have better things to do than play tourist with me.”
He put his hand over hers. “Not at all. Allee, I wish…” He withdrew his hand. “I’m sure you’re tired of me hanging around all the time.”
“You’ve been very helpful.” If he only knew how much she enjoyed his company. Too bad the feeling wasn’t mutual. “I realize I’ve occupied far too much of your time.” Her salad tasted like sawdust. “What are your plans for the week?”
“I have a farewell dinner with my office staff.” He toyed with his water glass. “And work, of course.”
She glanced toward him before turning her gaze back to the spectacular view. “I thought you said you were on vacation until you return to the USA.”
Flicking imaginary lint from his sleeve, Paul said, “Yes, I’m officially on leave. But, I’ve been thinking about one last project I want to take on myself, quietly, without getting too many other people involved.”
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