“You make it sound a military secret.”
“Something like that,” he said cryptically. He speared an olive from his plate and studied it as if he’d never seen one before. “Will you have dinner with me on your last night in Paris?” When Allee didn’t answer immediately, he added, “I’d really like to take you for a dinner cruise on the Seine. The Eiffel Tower looks incredible from the river, all lit up after dark.”
She considered how lonely it would be to eat her last meal in Paris by herself. What could it hurt to see him one last time? Besides, she could always cancel. “All right.”
After dinner, when walking to the Metro, Allee said, “You don’t have to escort me to the hotel. I know the routes and stops by now.”
“It’s after dark.”
“Since you’re going to work tomorrow, I’m sure you need your sleep.”
He dribbled coins into the ticket vending machine. “Sleep is overrated.”
Paul seemed distracted on the metro ride to her hotel. She wondered what mysterious work drew him back to the embassy—something that seemed to arise suddenly from out of nowhere and could only be done by him personally. Somehow, the whole idea didn’t add up. After some pondering, she suspected he was using his ‘project’ as an excuse to disentangle himself from her. Why all this subterfuge when he could simply walk away?
Safely tucked into her hotel room, Allee lounged on the lavish bed with a bank of pillows behind her. A text from Tina said she was finally making the move from the hospital to a rehab facility tomorrow and would be back in touch in a day or two. Allee sent her an encouraging message, ignoring the questions about the ‘hunk’ in the pictures. She watched the BBC news in English, and then soaked in the tub. Facing the dual challenges of finding a short-term job and locating a new apartment when she returned home nibbled at her. For the next few days, however, she was determined to put her worries on hold while she enjoyed Paris. Even without Paul.
19
Allee dressed in jeans and flip flops, not caring that her outfit screamed “tourist” to the other guests in the hotel dining room. After a light breakfast, she took a cup of coffee back to her room, intending to enjoy it on her little balcony. She opened the French doors, but quickly closed them against the drizzling rain.
As soon as the cloudburst let up, she dashed to the metro station and set out for the Louvre. Feeling a little tug of loneliness, she attempted to strike up a conversation with another admirer of the Winged Victory.
“Isn’t this an amazing sculpture?”
The woman looked startled. She shook her head and held out her hands, palms up.
Allee took that to mean that her English comment made no sense to the woman. “Sorry,” she mumbled. To make things worse, the woman smiled and pointed to a sign with a message in French and English. “Thank you,” Allee said. “I mean, merci.” She moved away in the direction indicated by the sign’s huge red arrow, even though she was not in need of a restroom.
After following the recorded tour route, she grabbed a quick lunch in the museum cafeteria. Seating was limited, resulting in her sitting at the one empty chair at an occupied table. Allee wasn’t sure what language the people she sat with spoke, only that it most decidedly was not English. No matter how she tried, she could not keep from longing for Paul’s presence.
She divided her afternoon between the French crown jewels and the eighteenth-century furnishings in the decorative arts gallery. Feeling as if she couldn’t take another step, she found her way outside. Two discoveries struck Allee at the same time. First, Paris was being blessed with an outpouring of heavy rain. Second, she’d left her umbrella somewhere inside the Louvre.
At last, Allee found a way to preserve her personal space in a crowded subway car. Soaking wet clothing did the trick nicely. Once inside her hotel room, she stripped and dived into a warm bubble bath. She decided not to eat dinner at the luxurious restaurant she’d planned on earlier. Something light—and more importantly, convenient—held more appeal.
The host in the hotel’s small café seated Allee and handed her an English menu without asking what language she preferred. She ordered vegetable soup and took out her phone, hoping her reading at the table didn’t offend the international guests seated around her. Although her eyes were focused on the words before her, Allee’s mind wandered to the topic of what to do when she returned home. The best of the limited number of summer jobs were snapped up as soon as the school year ended. Probably the most she could hope for was a food service job in a place with high turnover, hopefully not Helmut’s Chinese Mexican Buffet.
When the waiter served her dinner, Allee explained that she’d ordered the vegetable soup.
“Yes, Madame, this is what you requested, vegetable soup.”
Allee trailed her spoon through the thick porridge. “There are no vegetables.”
Lifting an eyebrow, he assured her, “The vegetables are inside. If this is not to your satisfaction, perhaps you wish to order something else.”
“No. No, this is fine.” She took a tentative taste, detecting the flavor of carrots, peas, and perhaps celery. The dish could perhaps be called soup, and it definitely contained veggies. She didn’t expect everything to be pureed together, however. She couldn’t help thinking if Paul was there, they’d laugh about the miscommunication arising from cultural differences.
The next few days raced by, filled with marvelous sights and a persistent loneliness. Allee answered Tina’s texts about Paul evasively, which only seemed to make her friend ask more questions. In a way, she wished she hadn’t sent those pictures of them together. She practiced Mona Lisa’s mysterious smile in the mirror, thinking it would be useful at home. She could change the subject when necessary by reminding Tina she’d actually seen Leonardo da Vinci’s painting of the enigmatic lady in the Louvre.
Allee’s heart raced when she answered Paul’s phone call on Friday afternoon. “I hope you’ve had a wonderful week,” he said. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too.”
She expected him to give her instructions on where to meet him for dinner the following evening. Instead, he assured her it was no trouble to come to the hotel to escort her. On Saturday, she found it difficult to keep her attention on the magnificent paintings in the Musée D’Orsay. She lingered among the impressionist collections, enjoying the originals of Renoir and Monet prints she’d cherished since childhood. On the way back to her hotel, all she could think about was being with Paul again.
Allee decided to give Tina’s sweater one last outing in Paris. She paired it with casual slacks instead of the formal long skirt she’d worn to the opera and dancing.
When she descended the stairs into the hotel lobby, the sight of Paul in a crisp blue shirt stopped her cold. To her surprise, he hugged her close.
“I’m so glad to see you,” he whispered.
Although her common sense told her to pull away, Allee lingered in his embrace. The scent of his cologne added to the pleasure of resting in his arms. Her normal reserve evaporated in the sure knowledge they would never meet again. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve looked forward to this evening with you.”
“Have you, Allee?” He tilted her chin upwards with one finger and gazed into her eyes. “So have I.”
Strolling to the metro station while chatting with Paul was an entirely different venture from walking there alone. Allee hoped she wouldn’t trip, as she closed her eyes for a moment to capture one more special memory. “How’s your project coming along?”
Paul pressed his lips together. “No results yet, but I’m not ready to give up.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
“Maybe later.”
His answer made no sense, but Allee let it go. Clearly, he didn’t care to discuss his work with her. Or maybe he couldn’t if they were military secrets.
20
It was dusk when they boarded the Seine River boat. While the staff put the finishing touches on the buffe
t dinner, Allee and Paul stood at the rail, watching the changing scenes of the beautiful city slip by. After dinner, they settled in deck chairs on the bow of the boat. As darkness fell, they sailed by the Eiffel Tower, lit up like a Christmas tree.
“How beautiful,” Allee breathed.
“My thought exactly.” Paul’s face was turned toward her, not the tower. “Allee, you cannot imagine how much the last two weeks have meant to me.”
“Me, too. I might have packed up and gone home the first day if you hadn’t been there for me.” The sound of the water lapping against the boat put her in a pensive mood. “When I’m an old woman, sitting on my porch in a rocking chair, I’ll think back to this time in Paris and smile.” And remember how wonderful it was to be with you.
“Our time together has been so very special. I prayed for God to show me the pathway to take, and now I believe He has given me the guidance I asked for.”
“In what way?” She could not read his facial expression in the darkness, but she heard his deep intake of breath.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ramble on.” He pointed out a bright cluster of lights. “You can see how Paris got her nickname as ‘the city of light’.”
Paul put his arm around her shoulders, giving her a little shiver of delight. She drank in his nearness in the fresh night air and wished this evening would never end.
When Paul delivered her to the hotel, he took her hand and kissed it. His warm lips barely grazed her, but it was a sensation she added to her mental treasure chest. He smiled and continued to hold her hand. “You know what the old song says, ‘God be with you until we meet again’.”
“May He bless you and keep you.” She had to lighten the mood to keep herself from bursting into tears. “If you ever find yourself in Montgomery, Alabama, give me a call. I’ll show you around. We can go and visit Hank Williams’ grave.”
He flashed his million-watt smile. “I’ll hold you to that.” He disappeared down the street.
Allee longed to run after him and demand a proper good-bye kiss.
While packing, Allee checked all of the drawers multiple times before she was satisfied she had everything. A sense of melancholy settled over her, making sleep unlikely. When reading didn’t help, she tried French television. With a sigh, she flipped off the TV and took out her journal. She’d planned to keep a record of her trip, but the brown leather book was still completely blank. She opened it and wrote lines from a John Greenleaf Whittier poem she’d memorized for a speech contest in high school. Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these: It might have been! She closed the book and clasped it to her heart for a long moment before tucking it into her luggage.
The word limo suggested elegance to Allee, similar to the long, sleek vehicle she and her friends took to her senior prom. The little white van with red lettering on the side was not at all what she’d envisioned. Nevertheless, she appreciated being whisked to the airport directly from the portico in front of her hotel, courtesy of Fast and Thrifty. Once the hurry up and wait of checking in was done, she sat clutching her boarding pass in the waiting area designated for her international flight.
Casting about for a way to pass the time, Allee remembered to touch base with the folks back home. Her sense of being alone in a crowd intensified somewhat when she heard her mother’s far away voice on the phone. “Hi, Mom. How are you?”
“We’re fine. Are you home yet?”
“No, but I’m on my way. I’m at the airport in Paris, getting ready for my flight to Atlanta.”
“Did you and Tina have a good time?”
Allee grimaced. “I’ve had the time of my life. Did I mention Tina had an accident the day before we were supposed to leave? So, she didn’t get to come with me.”
“An accident? Were you in the car with her?”
“It wasn’t an auto crash. She fell at the gym and tore up her knee and foot.”
“Who is with you, then?”
“Actually, Mom, I came by myself.”
“Oh, my stars and garters, Allee Marie. You’re enough to give me cardiac arrest. You could have been strangled or abducted or goodness knows what, running around alone over there with all those foreigners.”
Allee smiled. Her mother’s reaction was so predictable. “I’ve had a fine time, and now it’s over and I’m on my way home, safe and sound. So, you don’t have to worry.”
“Of course, I do. Now I have to worry all the time because I’ll never know what you’re not telling me. Anyway, now that you’ve got this travel business out of your system, you can settle down and find a good husband.”
“Gotta go, Mom. Love to all. I’ll talk to you when I get home.”
She texted her status to Tina, along with wishes for her speedy recovery, and settled back to wait for her flight to be announced. She had a fleeting impulse to send Paul a message but discarded the idea. There was nothing more to say to him. For a moment, she imagined how excited she’d be if he came running through the airport, begging her not to leave. But, she reminded herself, this was real life, not a romance novel.
Right on time, Allee boarded her plane. It took a while for everyone to file on board, stow their carry-ons, and find their seats. The airplane had two aisles, with seven seats in a middle section and two window rows with only two seats each. Allee was happy to be by a window, with a slender, stylishly dressed woman beside her. There was a collective moan when a flight attendant announced everyone must return to the waiting area with all of their belongings.
“Fine way to start this trip,” the woman next to Allee muttered.
Back in the waiting area, an airline representative explained that their maintenance crew was unable to account for all of their tools after servicing the aircraft. After more than a half hour, the agent announced that a screwdriver was still missing despite a thorough search of the plane.
The passengers milled around, some complaining about the delay, while others cracked jokes about losing tools.
Allee settled in to read when she heard the now-familiar voice notifying everyone—in three languages—that security would now re-check them and their carry-on bags. She put away her phone and obediently lined up again. The flight ended up boarding two hours after the scheduled departure time. However, as far as Allee knew, the missing screwdriver was never found.
Allee’s seat mate produced a small pouch. She proceeded to put on an impressive set of diamond rings and bracelets, finishing up with a heavy gold necklace. “I hate having to take off my jewelry to go through security lines,” she grumbled.
Not certain if the woman was speaking rhetorically or addressing her, Allee answered with a noncommittal grunt.
After they sat at the departure gate for what seemed like a long time, the aircraft finally pushed away. The pilot introduced himself and assured everyone they were waiting for a place in line for take-off and would be airborne as soon as possible.
Allee made herself as comfortable as she could in her seat, eagerly anticipating the book she’d saved for the long flight across the ocean. Or, as Paul would say, the pond. Gazing out the window, she wondered what he was doing right now. Was he at work? Or was that a kind ruse? How could he be so attentive at times and then seem to pull back at others? The past two weeks seemed almost like a dream. Now it was time to wake up to the reality of a temporary job and finding a place to live.
Although they were not yet in the air, Allee opened her book. She was immediately immersed in the world of a dashing duke, a clever commoner, and the structured society of the Regency era. The description of the handsome, dark-haired nobleman reminded her so much of Paul she wasn’t sure she could go on reading. As the romance developed, she felt a sensation she could only describe as jealousy toward the heroine. When the couple secretly shared a passionate kiss in a secluded rose garden, she slammed the book shut and put it away. Maybe later she’d be in the mood to read about someone else’s successful search for love.
Noticing the woman next to her ha
d fallen asleep, she quietly plugged in the airline’s earphones and searched for an upbeat movie. The romantic comedy she chose was lighthearted and funny. Therefore there was no reason it should make her cry, but it did. Something about the way the actors teased each other touched a tender spot, turning on a spigot of tears that she could not turn off. Dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, she decided her problem was a lack of sleep. She settled against the bulkhead, determined to take a nap.
Allee didn’t know how long she’d dozed, only that a loud, growling noise penetrated her awareness. She sat up straight, fearing the plane was about to crash.
However, the sound radiated from the woman in the adjoining seat. Her head was back, mouth agape, and she snored with the volume of a roaring lion.
Allee shifted her position, hoping the movement would jog her companion awake. Next, she gently nudged her shoulder against her, and again there was no reaction. She yawned and gave up the idea of sleep.
Leafing through a magazine she found in the seat pocket, Allee felt the need to use the airplane’s bathroom. She waited as long as she could before shaking the woman next to her, explaining she needed access to the aisle. The snorer opened her eyes long enough to shift her knees out of the way. Allee made good her escape, glad to be out of the small space allotted to her.
After returning to her seat, Allee could not get her overhead light to turn on. She conferred with a flight attendant, hoping for a burned-out bulb to be replaced. “Can you fix this?” she asked.
The flight attendant peered at the light, and then straightened. “I’m sorry, no, I cannot repair your reading lamp.” Without cracking a smile, she added, “If only I had that screwdriver we lost in Paris.”
Thanks to missing her connecting flight, it was late afternoon when Allee’s plane touched down in Montgomery. She welcomed the familiar sights of home. So what if her checked baggage didn’t arrive with her? She was tired of the outfits she’d taken with her, and Tina’s sweater was safe and snug in her carry-on.
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