That Spring in Paris

by Ciji Ware

  Her mother’s glance also landed on the framed picture. Her expression as she gazed at it in silence telegraphed to Juliet a deep sadness she’d never seen in her before. In the next moment, Juliet felt a strange, miraculous kind of liberation from the perpetual sense she’d had her entire life that her mother didn’t care a whit about her only daughter’s welfare. Mildred Thayer did care about Jamie and her on some level, Juliet realized after the revelations her father had just made. The problem was, the poor woman had never dealt with her own devils of grief, loss, and anger, nor had she taken responsibility for her role in how her life and that of her eldest living son had unfolded, in part due to the older woman’s unhealthy behavior.

  Juliet could see now that Brad the Fourth had been a bizarre sort of life raft bolstering her mother’s own sense of self-worth. As her father had said, her mother’s championing of Brad against all others had very little to do with any of Juliet’s or Jamie’s perceived shortcomings. Juliet had learned this day that she had allowed her mother’s negative actions to shadow her entire life—needlessly, it would seem. Well, no more.

  As for her eldest brother, what youngster like Brad wouldn’t have turned into an entitled little brat with all that praise and unadulterated adulation beamed his way? In a strange sense, Juliet thought with surprise, she and Jamie were lucky not to have been the “Favorite Child.”

  And as far as her father was concerned, she had seen this day that he was a loving but flawed man who had yet to stand up for what he wanted, or for what he knew his other children needed. Maybe he would, someday, but Juliet silently cautioned herself that she shouldn’t count on it—and it wasn’t up to her to try to make it happen.

  Yes, she could always hope, but it was best to keep her expectations low.

  At that moment, her father rose from his chair, calling a halt to Juliet’s musings. For the first time, she noted how thin his hair had become on top of his head, and that his upper back was slightly curved, now, with a hint of scoliosis that ran on the Thayer side of the family. Despite his ruggedly handsome profile that must have dazzled the debutantes of his day, he looked all of his sixty-five years as he stepped out from behind the desk and stood next to his wife of four decades.

  “Well, bon voyage and all good luck, Juliet, darling,” he said with forced heartiness. “I think it’s going to be a wonderful adventure for our girl, don’t you, Millie? It was something we both would have loved to do a million years ago, don’t you think?”

  To Juliet’s shock, her mother responded softly, “I always wanted to study in Paris like your many-times-great grandmother who built this pile.” She gave a defeated little shrug of her shoulders. “But, it was not to be. And now, with all those terrorists in France...”

  “What about the ones in San Bernardino?” Juliet reminded her gently. She reached out and squeezed her mother’s hand. “We can’t stop living life, Mother. If we do, they win.”

  Mildred gave her daughter’s hand the tiniest squeeze back. “Well, maybe we’ll think about coming for a visit mid-August when the fog is so thick around here, it feels like the dead of winter.”

  Juliet was taken by surprise by her mother’s near-positive response. For the first time in at least two decades, she threw her arms around her shoulders and gave her a hug. Her mother remained stationary, her back rigid, her arms stiff in their pink sleeves. Mildred raised her chin and said primly, “I hope, at least, that you’ve helped your replacement prepare to take over your job in the art department. It’s not fair to leave poor Brad stranded.”

  Juliet almost laughed. “Your darling son had an armed guard escort me from the building. He can damn well solve his own graphic design problems.”

  “That can’t be true...” her mother murmured. “You’re exaggerating, as usual.”

  In that instant, Juliet realized not to expect a leopard ever to change its spots. “Ask the guard,” she said with a shrug. “His name tag said ‘J. Rodriguez.’”

  Mildred appeared taken aback at this news. As for Juliet, she didn’t want bad feelings to be the last memory of saying goodbye to her parents for six months—or longer. She leaned over and gave her father the same hug she’d offered her mother. The two embraced for a long moment.

  “Bye, Daddy,” she said softly. “I’m taking over Avery’s apartment at number seven Rue de Lille where Great-Great Grandmother Amelia lived when she went to L’École... so the Thayer family tradition continues. Please, both of you come for a visit.”

  “I hope to. I’m very proud of you, pet.” She could see his eyes were moist. “Travel safe, you hear?”

  She glanced at her mother. “By the way... just so you both know, my lawyer tells me that any of us can sell our family-owned shares of GG stock, or any portion of it, as of July 1, but I’ll let you know before I do anything.”

  “Juliet!” her mother exclaimed. “If you sell yours, that would be very disloyal!”

  “A trait that seems to run in the Thayer family, I’m afraid. Love you both. Bye, now. Take good care of each other, you two.”

  * * *

  On the day of Juliet’s flight, she literally raced through the hallway to catch the elevator downstairs to the Bay View’s underground garage to meet Jamie who’d volunteered to drive her to the airport. They had barely headed for the freeway when she related the bombshell that their father had dropped on her when she’d gone to his office to say goodbye. She also passed along her theories why Brad’s attitude and behaviors were so different from his siblings.

  “Holy crap! They had a baby boy that Mother named Brad before they had Brad? This is pretty heavy stuff.”

  “No kidding. Once our Brad appeared, Mother’s behavior became the classic recipe for creating a full-blown narcissist. I got the feeling that even she knows that, now.”

  “I guess we should be thankful we were third and fourth in the birth order,” Jamie said with a shake of his head.

  “That’s exactly how I felt! But it’s nice to know one thing,” she said with a grin, “It certainly t’ain’t our fault that the GatherGames CEO is such a total creep toward us and everyone who works for him.”

  “You almost make it sound as if it’s not Brad’s fault, either, given the continuous ’atta boy’ brainwashing he received from Mother that he could do no wrong.”

  “I don’t know whose fault it was, but it seems to me that once a person passes age thirty-five, the decisions he or she makes about how to behave in this world are pretty much under their control—and it’s time to stop blaming anyone else. In my opinion—which, of course, nobody’s asking—Brad still has a lot to answer for.” Juliet shifted her weight in the passenger seat to look out the windshield and declared, “But moving on, I want to tell you something else.”

  “Spare me, if it’s another keg of dynamite like the last one.

  “No, no... it’s all about me!”

  “Uh-oh. Not another sibling with an ‘I-am-the-Greatest’ complex.”

  Juliet burst out laughing, relieved to see Jamie had recovered his sense of humor.

  “Last night, while I began to pack, I had a great idea. I’ve decided I’m going to blog about my efforts to become a landscape artist as an ex-pat in France. I stayed up half the night designing a landing page to bolt onto my old JulietThayerArtist website. Problem is, I ran out of time, so I need you to update my original site and then electronically hook up the blog page to it while I’m flying today. That way, it’ll be up and running as soon as I get to France.”

  “You were a busy bee,” Jamie noted mildly, putting on the car’s signal to take Highway 101 south to the airport.

  “Well, will you? Do the back room stuff for me, I mean?” she persisted eagerly. “I’ve sent you a link with all the IDs and passwords.”

  “Sure,” Jamie agreed. “Sounds great, and this way, I can keep close tabs on you, kiddo. Back door web access, and all that, unlike GG and the FBI. And by the way, I think the Feds were just fishing last week. I don't think our particular
encryption system turned up in their investigations.”

  “Well that’s a relief.”

  “So, what are you calling this online diary of yours?”

  “’France Unafraid,’” she replied proudly. “Besides my leaping into the unknown, I also want to blog about what France turns out to be like in the wake of the terrorist attacks. From what I’ve seen so far, the French continue to refuse to give up their way of life. They’re still sitting outside in cafés... traveling in the metro and by train... strolling along the riverfront. I think people outside France would be interested to know things like that, don’t you? I’m going to mainly create my own images and take photos myself. I want to illustrate this story, rather than just write about it.”

  Jamie glanced across the front passenger seat. “That’s the sister I remember—an idea-a-minute-gal.” Despite his show of enthusiasm, Juliet detected the sad note in his voice.

  “Don’t think I’m not going to miss you, big time, Jamie,” she said.

  “And I’ll miss you, Sis. You’re abandoning me to the crazy people, you know.”

  “You have an open invitation to visit any time.”

  He gave a small shake of his head. “Avery’s going to be living with that Alain guy. It might be... ah... kinda icky if I came over.”

  “Yep, she’s already moved into his studio, but—nevertheless—I will be highly insulted if that’s the reason you use not to come over to spend some time with me.”

  “And Finn Deschanel? You haven’t told me what the state of affairs—pardon my pun—is in that department.”

  Juliet hesitated, then acknowledged, “I’m crazy about the guy.”

  “Not too surprising. He’s good news,” Jamie concurred.

  “But he’s got major personal and professional To Do lists right now, and so have I. We’ve agreed to live separately and to be together when it works for both of us.”

  Jamie flashed her a skeptical look, prompting Juliet to suppress a smile. “My, my... how sensible that all sounds,” he said with a straight face.

  “Yeah...” she agreed. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

  * * *

  Finn glanced at his watch every other minute, waiting among the expectant crowd at De Gaulle Airport. Other restless people milled outside the big doors where international passengers emerged singly or in clusters of friends and relatives. Some travelers pulled trim carryon bags behind them, and others pushed huge carts of luggage that could supply the needs of a small village. Finn felt his pulse speed up at the sight of security personnel dotted around the hall holding assault rifles against their chests. He willed himself to take a couple of deep breaths and focus his thoughts on the woman who would soon be walking through the Arrivals door.

  Scanning the crowds for his first glimpse of Juliet, he speculated that she would have far more baggage this trip than her previous visits, given that she planned to stay at least six months, which was the permitted length of a visitor’s visa to France. If she could secure status as a bona fide student, like he had when he signed up for commercial drone training, perhaps she could stay longer without applying for permanent resident status.

  He couldn’t deny he’d been nervous about this new direction their relationship had suddenly taken when Juliet called him to announce her brother had fired her. The next day, he had voiced to the good Doctor A an odd, free-floating sense of apprehension that had assailed him the second he’d hung up the phone.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” he tried to explain. “I’m really excited she’s coming, but I’m... worried.”

  “It’s a big step for you,” Dr. Abel agreed. She leaned forward, and with her usual empathy urged him to tell her, “What concerns you most?”

  “That I’ll have... well, you know... flashbacks, or screaming nightmares, or eventually just get cold feet about it all and hurt her by wanting to retreat into my cave.”

  “That’s certainly been known to happen in cases like yours,” she agreed, “but you’ve said, haven’t you, that most of the things that troubled you when you and I first started working together have diminished a lot?”

  “Quitting the booze, along with the opioids the VA prescribed definitely helped. But that’s what bothers me,” he protested. “What I’m feeling now is the opposite of the macho man I was on the phone with her, counting the minutes till this very gorgeous lady lands in my life again.”

  “Well,” she said with a wry smile, “you tried that white knuckle macho stuff before you decided to come here for help. How did it work for you?”

  “It stunk. Trying to pretend nothing was wrong made PTSD symptoms worse.”

  “Could the thing that you’re dealing with now just be a little bit of ordinary stage fright? You haven’t been with a woman on a consistent basis in a long time.”

  “More than two years,” Finn admitted. “Even a couple of years before that, everything was out of whack.”

  “But didn’t you tell me Juliet is taking over her friend’s flat?”

  “Right,” he’d said, admitting that, in fact, he’d been the one who said he wanted her to live with him on the barge. “She felt it was best for us each to have our own place—at least at first. So why am I feeling so... so... suddenly bummed about all this and questioning myself on the eve of Juliet’s arrival?”

  “What’s the first thought that comes to mind right now?” she challenged.

  “What if it won’t work out?”

  “I’d call this a case of ‘mini-PTSD,’ Dr. Abel said with a small laugh. “Your first marriage failed, and perhaps a part of you doesn’t want to risk failing again, plus...” she twiddled her pen between her fingers, “you are in the middle of establishing a new career for yourself that involves flying drones, which I’m betting remains a somewhat loaded enterprise for you. You’re doing well on all fronts, Finn,” she assured him, “but you’ve got a lot on your plate. Maybe the idea of being with someone fulltime—even someone as terrific as you’ve described Juliet Thayer—is creating anxiety that you won’t do either venture well—unless you concentrate on one or the other.”

  Finn had felt a huge sense of relief that his therapist identified so accurately these strange feelings he’d been having. “That sounds exactly right,” he said, nodding. “I could fail at both.”

  “So, isn’t it lucky that Juliet appears intuitively to understand that her coming to France is a big change for both of you and wants her own space, too?” Then Dr. Abel added encouragingly, “My clinical opinion? Given how things are arranged between you, I think you’ll both do just fine.”

  “She’s a pretty fabulous woman,” he agreed. “I just don’t want to do something dumb that ruins everything.”

  “Call me night or day if you feel you’re in a bind,” Doctor Abel said in her customary, forthright style. “You’re a courageous man and you’ve proved that over and over. As far as this relationship with Juliet Thayer, I’d say, why not go for it?”

  Why not go for it? he repeated to himself silently.

  After that session with the doc, Finn could feel the anxiety slowly dissipating and now, he couldn’t wait to see Juliet again, to hold her in his arms, and to—

  Just then, he spotted her coming through the double doors. She was dressed in tight jeans, knee-high boots, and a starched white collared shirt, with a long, pale blue cashmere scarf looped around her neck to ward off, she’d told him once, the plane’s air-conditioning on long flights. Her shoulder-length auburn hair looked almost red as she walked beneath the overhead lighting fixtures that illuminated the reception area. Even after a twelve-hour flight across a continent and the Atlantic Ocean, Juliet looked... well... fabulous.

  Her face lit up when she saw him waving his large bouquet of long-stem, pink roses.

  Juliette est arrivée en France!

  * * *

  Juliet fell in love with Paris all over again as they sped into the city in a taxi full of her hefty luggage. The spring blossoms that had run riot the last time s
he was in France for Easter had matured into the full summer foliage of late May. The streets near the Trocadero were leafy bowers casting cool shade along the avenues. Couples strolled beside the Seine in shirtsleeves and cotton sundresses. For her part, Juliet couldn’t wait to abandon her knee-high boots that she’d had to wear because she couldn’t fit them in her luggage.

  She and Finn weren’t inside the pilothouse ten minutes before, as one, they scrambled down the wooden steps to his stateroom and fell into each other’s arms.

  “God, I missed you,” Finn growled, pulling her tightly against him as they lay, fully clothed, on the bed.

  “I was jumpy and nervous about everything the entire trip, but now that I’m here...”

  Before she could finish her sentence, Finn cupped her face in his hands and commenced to kiss her long and thoroughly. When they finally came up for air she whispered against his ear, “You need to know that this wench started taking the pill the minute we hung up the phone.”

  “And if you look in the top drawer of my bedside table,” he murmured against the hollow of her throat, “there’s probably a lifetime supply of condoms in there.”

  “Good man.” She giggled and slowly began unbuttoning his shirt so she could scatter kisses on his chest. “We have enough complications facing us as it is.”

  “Good lady.” He firmly pressed his arousal against her midsection to telegraph how very happy he was that she had come aboard his boat. “But you are one complication that I’d like to explore for a very long time, tonight.”

  “Well then, get busy, flyboy, and pull off my boots because I have a few discoveries about you that I intend to make as well...”

  CHAPTER 27

  In Juliet’s first week of plein air landscape classes at L’École, Finn pointed out various overt examples of an increasing number of security measures that had been put in place all over Paris since her last visit. In addition to soldiers with long guns assigned to the major metro stations throughout the city, purses and bags were routinely checked where significant numbers of people gathered, including department stores, theaters, stadiums, schools, and even at the fashion houses on Avenues Montaigne and Georges V.