That Spring in Paris

by Ciji Ware

  “I’m going to miss this sight so much,” she sighed.

  “Are you?” He turned toward her slightly. “And I think I’m going to miss your company.”

  They locked glances and then he bent down and brushed his lips on the top of her head as if she were a well-behaved child. Awkwardly, they exchanged faint smiles and chastely bid each other goodnight. Juliet slipped beneath the covers on the couch while she watched Finn turn off all the lights and pad down to his stateroom. She turned her gaze toward the blazing tower and watched it erupt into its nightly five-minute sparkle show before going utterly dark. The velvety blackness enfolded her and she concentrated on the lapping of the Seine against the hull. Even so, and tired as she felt, it took her nearly an hour to fall asleep.

  CHAPTER 12

  Just after dawn the next morning, Juliet awoke to the sound of her cell phone ringing. She made a lunge for it on the floor beside the sofa and saw that the caller ID announced her brother Jamie was trying to get in touch. Worried about waking Finn, she leapt out of bed, grabbed her coat from the spoke on the ship’s wheel, and clumsily stepped halfway into her shoes as she croaked “Hello?”

  Once outside on the deck, the skies were a pale crystal and the temperature bordered on frigid, but Juliet could see it was going to be a fine day.

  “Jamie, do you know what time it is here?” she demanded with a laugh.

  “Eight a.m.,” he said confidently.

  “Check again. It’s barely seven. In the winter, Paris is eight hours behind California.”

  “Oops. Sorry, but I wanted to find out how Avery is doing. I’ve been watching CNN and it all looks so—”

  Juliet interrupted. “She’s out of the hospital, as of yesterday, which was a big surprise. I was able to take her to the funeral of the guy who saved her life by throwing his body over hers when the shooting started.”

  “What a horrible thing that must have been.” A pause. “Was he her boyfriend?”

  Jamie’s last question had a definite edge to it.

  “No. Just a friend and fellow artist. She’d taken him to dinner that night to thank him for helping her navigate art school. And anyway, what’s it to you, bro?” She was more than convinced that Jamie continued to harbor a soft spot for Avery.

  “I’m just glad to hear she’s doing better, is all. And how about you? What’s it like in Paris, now?”

  “It’s absolutely freezing here,” she noted cheerfully. “But the city’s getting back to a strange kind of normal and the Parisians are amazing. Even after everything that’s happened over here, they’ll be damned if the terrorists will shut down their lives. People are back eating in cafés. They’re going to work and riding the metro, but you see piles of flowers everywhere at various memorials, and it’s... well... still kind of scary. At least for me. They caught all but one of the terrorists. He supposedly fled to Syria, but—”

  “That’s what I’m worried about,” intervened Jamie. “Where are you, anyhow? Are you someplace relatively safe?”

  Juliet turned to look into the salon through the pilothouse window. Finn was up, clad in a pair of running shorts he apparently slept in—at least when he had company. He also sported a faded Air Force T-shirt that completed his morning ensemble. He was standing at the desk, facing the two burners, making coffee. She saw a long, ridged scar that ran from the rim of his shorts down his left leg to below his knee.

  “Don’t worry about me,” she replied, keeping her voice light. “Believe it or not, I’m under the full protection of a former Major of the United States Air Force. His landlady’s grandson was the young man who got killed having dinner with Avery.”

  “What do you mean ‘under the protection of’? What part of Paris are you in?”

  “I’m on a river barge, of all things. Across from the Eiffel Tower. It’s pretty fabulous, actually.” She eyed the deck section of the boat near the stern. “If the weather were decent, I could set up an easel on board and paint the most incredible river scene.”

  “Wow... sounds great. But how did you end up there?”

  “It’s a long story that I’ll tell you when I see you. And, yeah, if it weren’t for what’s happened, I’d be in seventh heaven.”

  Just then, Truffles, the black cat, rubbed her furry side against Juliet’s leg. It felt warm and comforting.

  “So it sounds like you’ve got things pretty well under control,” Jamie said. “You’ll be back, soon, though... right? Brad has been—”

  “Honestly?” she cut in, a tight knot expanding in her chest as she remembered Brad’s nasty text from the night before, “I don’t want to hear about Brad right now. Avery is mourning the loss of her friend and is struggling, big time, with survivor’s guilt. She has a long way to go until her shoulder and right arm are completely healed. She has physical therapy every other day and lives in an attic, a million steps to the top. She shouldn’t be alone, and she won’t let me contact her family. I’m needed here... at least for a while longer,” she finished, unable to disguise her exasperation.

  Brad should just sit on it! she thought angrily. It made her blood boil that people like him had absolutely no idea what was facing all the surviving victims and their circle of family and friends—nor did he apparently give a damn.

  “Hey!” Jamie in response to her tirade. “I’m on your side, remember? He told me about the text he sent threatening to fire you if you didn’t come back soon.”

  “Yeah... he’s such a sweetheart.” Her bitter tone surprised even her.

  “What about this,” Jamie proposed. “When you fix a date for coming home, I’ll fly over there and keep an eye on Avery. We’ll have locked down the new video and the entire editing department goes on hiatus for the Christmas holidays, plus I’m owed a ton of vacation days to boot. That way, you can return home by the end of the month and keep Brad from firing you, which he threatens to do every day to warn the rest of us that he won’t brook any disloyalty.”

  “C’mon, Jamie... come clean. Do you have some special reason you’re so concerned about Avery?”

  There was a long pause on the other end of her cell phone, and for a moment, she thought they might have become disconnected.

  “I really like her, Jules,” Jamie said at length, “and I think Brad... well, I’m sure his ... uh... behavior is one of the reasons she bailed. I feel really bad about that. If she hadn’t quit, she wouldn’t have been in Paris and gotten shot.”

  “Brad’s way of running GatherGames makes me want to quit, too, but her getting shot was one of life’s random events, so we really can’t blame Brad for every rotten thing that happens. But listen,” Juliet said, hearing the urgency in her own voice, “that’s a very generous offer you’ve made to come over to keep Avery company while she recuperates. In fact, I think it’s the best option available to us, actually. Why don’t we have a changing of the guard, then? It’s going to be a while until Avery can decently fend for herself and seriously get back to her painting. In the meantime, our friend Finn can keep an eye on her until you can get to Paris.”

  “Ah... so it’s ‘Finn,’ is it? How old is this Air Force major you’re staying with on a barge in the middle of the Seine?”

  “My age,” she replied shortly. “Former helicopter rescue pilot.”

  Juliet omitted adding Finn had also flown drones—and was still a married man.

  “An Air Force pilot, no less,” Jamie teased.

  “He was. He’s out now and currently unemployed.”

  “What should I tell Jed?”

  “Don’t tell him anything!” she snapped. “My staying here has been solely due to the fact that Avery’s apartment was freezing until she moved back into it and could make the crazy French heating system work, and—”

  “Okay, okay!” Jamie said, laughing. “Don’t be so defensive! I’m sure you are totally behaving yourself.”

  “I am!” she retorted, and gave her brother a brief rundown of Finn’s kindnesses to everyone involved in the tragedy
of Avery and J-P. “He has some serious complications in his life, just like I do, so, trust me, there’s absolutely been no hanky-panky between us.”

  “Sounds like a stand-up guy.”

  “He is.”

  Just then from inside the pilothouse, Finn held up a steaming mug of what Juliet assumed was coffee, pantomiming if she wanted him to bring it out to her.

  “I’ve gotta go,” she told Jamie. “I’ll propose the idea to Avery of your coming over here and let you know her reaction as soon as I figure out when I have to leave. Bye for now, and thanks for checking up on me.”

  “Dad’s been worried too, you know. I’ll tell him you are safe and apparently in good hands, courtesy of the United States Air Force.”

  Just as when they were high school kids and he teased her about various boyfriends, Jamie couldn’t resist ribbing her about her Paris host. Then, as he always did when they were away from each other, he said, “Bye, now, and love you.”

  “Love you too, bro.”

  * * *

  Now that Avery was installed back in her own living space, Juliet was encouraged that her friend appeared to be slowly recovering the use of her wounded arm. When she arrived at Avery’s that morning she was greeted by the sight of her sitting on a stool in front of her easel. The hand of her good arm held a brush and she was dabbing paint on a canvas she had apparently been working on before the attacks.

  “Hey, there...” Avery said with a vague wave of her brush.

  “Hey, there, yourself!” Juliet replied, giving her friend a thumbs-up.

  “There’s food in the ’fridge that the Parkers from downstairs brought up. Help yourself.”

  Sensing Avery was deep into her project, Juliet said, “I’ve already had my breakfast. I only just dropped by to say hi and see if you needed anything else. Finn wants to take me to see Giverny or the botanical gardens here in Paris. That okay with you?”

  “Yeah, sure,” Avery responded absently. “See you guys later for supper? I think I’m ready to go out ’cause I’ve got a serious case of cabin fever. My treat. I owe you both, big time.”

  Surprised Avery wanted to eat in a restaurant after the events at Le Petit Cambodge, Juliet said she’d make a reservation and dashed back out the door.

  That morning Finn had, in fact, offered to take Juliet to see some sights she’d had on her Bucket List. Once back downstairs, however, she crossed the street over to La Caléche and made a phone call while she nursed a coffee at a table just inside the door. Next, she punched in Finn’s number, reporting the startling news that Avery had started painting again.

  “That’s great! Can I take you both to dinner to celebrate?”

  “That’s so funny. Avery just said she had cabin fever and thought she was ready to eat in a restaurant again.”

  Then she told Finn that she had determined she could no longer put off going back to San Francisco and before she’d called him, she’d made a reservation to fly home.

  There was a slight pause before he replied, “Well, you have to do what you have to do, I suppose.” Then, “Look, I’ll call Bistro Belhara. Is eight, tonight, okay?”

  “Better make it for seven. Avery starts to poop out by quarter to nine. And she insists tonight’s her treat. To thank us both for... well... everything, I guess.”

  “Got it. Are you still up to driving to Giverny or going to see the botanical gardens today?”

  “I’d love to—but now that I think of it, how about we do that tomorrow or the next day? Since I’m flying home in a week, I’ve got some stuff on my To Do list I should accomplish before I leave. It probably makes more sense to run a few errands today and then I can meet you later at Avery’s and go on to dinner.”

  “Works for me. I’ll pick you both up at six-thirty. We can do one of the gardens tomorrow if you like.”

  Unlike Jed, whenever she ever needed to adjust a plan with him, Finn always seemed reasonable and accommodating.

  “All that sounds perfect,” she added gratefully. “You are a totally good egg, you know that?”

  “My eggs can be a bit scrambled at times, but I’ll take that as a compliment.” He laughed. “See you tonight.”

  Juliet clicked off her phone, paid her bill, and then walked the few blocks to L’École des Beaux Arts. Once past the security check, she took courage in hand and sought out the administrative offices. There, she secured enrollment papers for classes the following year that specialized in landscape painting. Leaving the office, she walked into the vast courtyard dotted with students hurrying to and from classes. With the papers tucked in her tote bag, she gazed at the building where Avery was an art student and Juliet’s great-great grandmother had come to study architecture so many decades before. She had no idea when—if ever—she’d make the break and come back to Paris, but a slight shiver skittered down her spine at the notion that she might one day figure out a way to carry on the family’s artistic tradition and study advanced landscape painting within these walls.

  “Yes!” she exclaimed aloud, delighted by the thought. A young woman nearby turned around and stared at her curiously. Juliet offered a cheery wave. As she turned to leave the school, a sudden flood of doubt assailed her. She had been doing computer-generated graphics for so long... did she still know how to hold a paintbrush?

  * * *

  The Bistrot Belhara at 23 Rue Duvivier in the 8th Arrondissement turned out to be almost as small as Avery’s flat, but famous for its classic French food “offering a Basque sensibility,” according to an online description Juliet had checked. To begin their meal, Avery and Juliet ordered a paté encroute and swooned over its flaky, golden pastry filled with minced duck infused with a rich, red wine sauce. Finn ordered sweetbreads, crispy on the outside, moist inside, and plumped with tiny potatoes. The three of them then shared a cassoulet and thought it almost as good as the one Finn and Claudine had made. The trio concluded with rice pudding, “unlike anything I’ve ever eaten in the States,” Juliet moaned, licking the back of her spoon.

  For an hour, the three could almost forget the tragedy that had befallen Paris, yet Juliet sensed as they drank their espresso that Avery was becoming increasingly ill at ease. The room had filled up with diners, and Avery glanced from side to side in the small space, as if she felt the threat that something frightening could erupt at any moment.

  “Shall we get the check?” Juliet asked with a bright smile.

  Avery nodded and then plunged her hand into her handbag.

  “But let’s ask the waiter to take a picture of the three of us,” she said. “I want to remember this night after Juliet has gone back to San Fran.”

  A passing waiter obliged, and Finn obediently put an arm around each of his fellow diners, adding in an off-hand way, “Now, no putting this on Facebook, remember.”

  “Don’t worry,” Avery said, her expression darkening. “You think I want anyone to see me with my arm in a sling? But shall I send you guys a copy?” Before they could answer, she typed Juliet’s email address and asked for Finn’s, sending the picture to them both with a tap of her finger.

  Though Finn had made light of the moment, Juliet knew he was as serious as Avery was about not wanting the image to go beyond the three of them.

  The man is hiding out from the world, Juliet considered silently, and most specifically from his father and his almost-ex-wife back in Nevada. But why?

  When Avery excused herself to go to the ladies room, Finn reminded Juliet of his offer to drive her to see the painter Monet’s gardens at Giverny before she left.

  “I imagine the gardens are dormant, given the time of year, but you said how much you wanted to see it... and you should definitely see Les Jardin des Plantes.”

  “They’re the botanical gardens here in Paris?”

  Finn nodded as Avery returned. Juliet asked her if she’d like to join the two of them on an outing the following day. Avery shook her head. She glanced apprehensively around the crowded restaurant and out the window facing the s
treet.

  “This was nice, tonight,” she began, “but honestly? I don’t think I’m quite ready to hang out among huge crowds. And besides, the next few days are jammed with all those doctors’ appointments and my damned physical therapy.” She turned to Juliet. “But you should definitely let Finn take you...”

  “I’m here to keep you company and be of some help,” Juliet protested. “If you’d rather not go, I’ll just bag it and go with you to all the stuff you have to do.”

  Avery shook her head vehemently. “I’m to have to learn to manage on my own very soon, so let’s both put our time to good use. You’ve sat in enough hospital rooms and stuffy doctors’ offices to last a lifetime. Please! Go with Finn! I can hire Uber drivers to take me to see the doctors these last few days you’re here. I want you to see more of Paris, if only to persuade you to come back soon! We’ll have dinners together, so don’t feel guilty.”

  In the end, Juliet decided to forgo traveling an hour outside Paris to Giverny, given that the next day dawned cold and wet.

  “Then instead,” Finn proposed that morning, “we could head for the botanical gardens here in Paris. There are a lot of glass greenhouses there, so they’ll be plenty to see indoors, out of the damp and cold.”

  * * *

  Due to the continuing inclement weather, Finn and Juliet decided that the greater part of valor was to leave the MG where it was parked near the barge and ride the metro from the nearby Passy station across the city. Juliet continued to find the sight of armed guards jarring as they emerged from the Place Monge station. Finn assured her it was just a short walk to Les Jardin des Plantes and the natural history museum next to it.

  Striding briskly down Rue Censier toward one of the main entrances to the acres of growing plants and large greenhouses, Juliet pointed to a two-level spire clad in distinctive Moorish designs. “Wow... that’s really tall. What is it?”