Paris Summer

by April Lynn Kihlstrom

  Janine turned sharply, wondering who was going to ruin her day. “Yes? Oh, it’s you, Mark. Hello.”

  “I thought I recognized you. Where is your shadow?” he asked pleasantly.

  “What?”

  “Sandy.”

  “That’s not funny!” Janine retorted.

  “I just meant that you and Sandy seem to enjoy doing things together,” Mark said innocently.

  “I happen to enjoy visiting museums alone,” Janine said pointedly.

  Mark nodded and proceeded to ignore the emphasized word. “Have you been here before?” he asked.

  “No.”

  Amused, Mark watched Janine for several minutes. Finally he said, “You can’t look at that one display forever, you know. And since I’ve been here quite often, why don’t you let me act as a guide? If you find it too unbearable you can tell me to get lost.”

  In spite of herself, Janine grinned sheepishly. “Okay,” she said.

  To Janine’s surprise, Mark was a very good guide. He was able to point out interesting objects Janine would probably not have noticed on her own. He was also patient and able to answer most of her questions with plausible guesses if not with facts. Grudgingly Janine began to be glad she had run into him.

  He was as impressed as Janine by the set of six tapestries hung in a round room on the upper floor. A plaque said that five belonged to a set portraying the senses, and the sixth was another done in the same style and commissioned by the same family. Mark and Janine took turns making guesses as to the original reasons for the tapestries, who made them, and how the artist had felt about the woman in the tapestry. Janine pointed to one that showed a young girl as well as the woman common to all the tapestries. “The weaver obviously didn’t like the woman!” she said.

  “Why?” Mark asked. “I mean, none of the women looks very pretty.”

  “Yes, but in this one the young girl is pretty, so it isn’t just that the weaver couldn’t make her look better,” Janine explained.

  “It’s not as bad as this one,” he replied, pointing to another tapestry.

  “Yes, but all the animals look odd.”

  Mark started to argue, then changed his mind as he realized that several people were watching them. Instead he said, “Perhaps we’d better go on to another room.

  “All right,” said Janine, who had not noticed their audience.

  Mark was more restrained after that, but they continued to discuss everything that caught Janine’s eye. He shared her enthusiasm over the medieval candleholders and joined in speculation over the probable lack of comfort of mail shirts. When Janine gasped at what appeared to be blood on a sword, Mark laughed and explained that it was only an identification number marked in red. For a moment she was annoyed, then laughed as well. The guard frowned at them and Mark led Janine to the next room.

  They were in the last room when a guard announced that the museum would close in five minutes. Janine was surprised to learn that it was so late, but Mark merely nodded. It was Mark’s turn, however, to be startled when Janine retrieved Rena’s umbrella from the coat check desk. Janine felt unaccountably shy. “I want to thank you for sending over the umbrella. It’s quite useful and I would have hated to have to buy one when I’ve got one at home.”

  “Yes, well, it is Rena’s and you might as well use it until she gets back,” Mark said, cutting short her thanks. “I didn’t even realize it was in my apartment until you insisted Rena didn’t have an umbrella. Actually, I didn’t think you’d use it.”

  Slightly annoyed and feeling mischievous, Janine said, “I suppose, to be fair to Rena, I ought to slip it back into your apartment right before she gets back. Alan tells me that’s what she would do.”

  “Never mind what Alan says!” Mark snapped.

  “Actually,” Janine continued as if she hadn’t heard, “there are more possibilities with an umbrella than without. After all, without one a woman has to wait for some man to offer to share his. If she has the umbrella she can look over the men without umbrellas and pick one to share hers with. She has more choice that way, don’t you think?”

  “I wouldn’t know!”

  By this time they were outside the museum and Mark began taking long, angry strides. Amazed at the strength of Mark’s reaction and not quite sure where he was headed, Janine stopped walking. She just stood still watching him continue down the street, both eyes on the ground. Abruptly he stopped and looked around with a puzzled expression on his face. Janine burst out laughing and waited as Mark strode back to her. “What are you doing?” he demanded. “Why did you stop?”

  “Because I wasn’t sure we were headed in the same direction,” Janine answered honestly.

  “We are,” he said shortly.

  “Doesn’t that depend on where you’re headed?” she asked.

  “Yes, but I’m headed to St. Michel where there are lots of men waiting to be picked up so there’s no conflict,” he said savagely. For a few seconds his eyes roamed over Janine, then he added, “I must say you are dressed for the part in that short skirt!”

  Janine gasped, then said tightly, “I’m sorry I teased you about Rena. It was wrong and I apologize. But there is no reason to be so nasty. We are not going in the same direction after all. Good day, Monsieur Renaud!”

  Janine turned and started to walk away as quickly as possible. Mark grabbed her arm and swung her around to face him. For a moment they glared at each other, then Mark slowly relaxed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Can we start over again? Pretend we just came out of the museum?”

  Janine wanted to refuse, but Mark was looking at her earnestly. He had been obnoxious, but Janine had to admit that if she were engaged to Rena she would be oversensitive to such jokes too. Suddenly she felt sorry for Mark. “All right,” she said, almost managing a smile.

  Mark visibly relaxed further and ran a hand through his unruly hair. “Where are you headed now?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Janine said. “I thought perhaps I would go over to the quaff and wander along peering in bookstalls.”

  Mark nodded. “Why don’t we start at St. Michel and work our way east? There is also a shop with old prints and maps and things that you might find interesting.”

  Janine decided not to point out that she had planned to spend the day alone. Instead, she shrugged. After all, Mark probably did know where the most interesting bookstalls and shops were. If only he weren’t so autocratic she might learn to like him.

  “I’d better warn you,” he said as they walked toward the quaff, “don’t buy anything until you’ve seen several bookstalls, especially if I suggest you wait.”

  “Why?” Janine demanded. “Don’t you think I’ve got any common sense?”

  “Sure.” Mark grinned. “But I suspect you’re going to find lots and lots of things you want to buy. You won’t be able to afford them all and you won’t necessarily see the best ones first. You can always go back to a stall, you know.”

  Janine had to admit this made sense. Mark did seem to know the bouquinistes well. He quickly caught on to the sorts of things Janine liked and when they went into the shop Mark had mentioned, he immediately requested exactly the right portfolios. “Are you a mindreader?” she asked as she opened the first one.

  Mark smiled. “No, you’re just rather transparent when you’re pleased with something. And even more so when you’re not.”

  After a long period of deliberation Janine settled on a nineteenthcentury hand-colored print and a sheet of illuminated manuscript. Mark arranged to stop back and buy an eighteenth-century star map later in the week. As they were leaving the shop he said, “One of the nice things about this shop is that it’s open on Sunday. Very few are.”

  Janine nodded, thinking that Mark could be very pleasant when he wanted to be. His next comment startled her. “Have you ever had Greek food?” Mark asked.

  Janine shook her head. “No. Why?”

  “There’s a good Greek restaurant around here. Would you like to try
it?”

  Janine did a quick mental calculation. She had changed a traveler’s check on Friday and had enough left if the place wasn’t too expensive. “Okay,” she replied.

  The streets were crowded and Mark held Janine’s arm to guide her. “I think you’ll like this place,” he was saying when he suddenly halted. Then, just as inexplicably, he started walking again and, to Janine’s question, said, “For a moment I was worried that maybe you wouldn’t like the place after all since the food tends to be fattening. Then I remembered you said something about wanting to gain weight.”

  Janine laughed. “You’ve got a good memory.”

  The menu was posted in the window of the restaurant and Janine noted with relief that the prices were quite reasonable. As the waiter seated them Mark suggested, “Should I order for both of us?”

  “Please,” Janine answered. “I have no idea what anything is.”

  She leaned back as the waiter led Mark to the front of the store to choose the main dishes. The restaurant was small and dark and Janine felt much more at ease than she had in the restaurants Sandy had taken her to. When Mark returned he explained the various dishes he had ordered. “I also ordered wine. I hope you don’t mind,” he said.

  “Of course not,” Janine replied.

  Mark leaned back and said, half apologetically, “It’s not as fancy as the places Sandy takes you to but it’s rather nice.”

  “I think I prefer it,” she said honestly. “I always feel slightly awkward in fancy restaurants. Besides, I feel guilty that Sandy is spending so much money on me.”

  Mark snickered. “Sure you do. But you manage to soothe your conscience by telling yourself Sandy can afford it. And by being nice to him.”

  “That’s not fair!” Janine said hotly.

  She broke off as the waiter appeared at the table with a salad. She glared at Mark silently while he watched her with amusement. When the waiter left he leaned forward. “The solution is simple, you know. You can always pay for your half of the meal and you could ask to go to less expensive restaurants.”

  “Don’t you think I’ve tried?” Janine demanded. “Sandy won’t let me pay for anything when he’s around. The one time I succeeded it was because we were going to take a tour boat and I ran ahead and paid for the tickets before he could stop me. He’s got this thing about women paying for things-claims it looks bad. And since he pays for dinner he says he has the right to choose the restaurant.”

  “Well, if you can’t help it, why not relax and enjoy yourself?” Mark said reasonably.

  “Because I feel as if Sandy is trying to buy me bit by bit!” she exploded.

  “I see,” was all Mark said as he regarded Janine steadily.

  Troubled, Janine began eating quickly, avoiding his eyes. After a moment, Mark joined her. For a while they talked about neutral subjects such as the food. It was sometime later that Mark said, “You know, maybe I was wrong after all. Maybe you and Sandy wouldn’t be suited. In which case you should ease off a little… see less of him.”

  “I wish,” Janine said quietly, “that you would keep your nose out of my relationship with Sandy. I don’t know which is worse: you telling me how to attract him and how much he likes me or you telling me Sandy and I are not suited. What concern is it of yours anyway?”

  “Well, I am your future brother-in-law,” he said jokingly.

  “Just like a man!” Janine said in exasperation. “Marries a woman and feels responsible for all the female members of her family. Thank you, but I can take care of myself.”

  “Actually,” Mark said calmly, “I was thinking more of the fact that Sandy would be almost my brother-inlaw. That would be rough even if you two were suited, but unbearable otherwise. To answer your question, however, I should point out that it was Rena’s idea, not mine, that you needed taking care of She asked me to keep an eye on you before she left Paris.”

  “I see,” she acknowledged the point, “but you’re not being fair to Sandy. He’s kind and gentle and intelligent and usually considerate. And he loves children. And…”

  “And he’d make you a princess in his father’s castle,” Mark said, staring at her. “You could have everything you wanted, couldn’t you? Somehow I just can’t picture you being happy that way. Or have you forgotten that princesses tend to be lonely?”

  “Not if they’re loved or in love!” Janine snapped back.

  “Well. Are you?”

  They glared at each other and after a moment, Mark looked away. “Okay, it’s none of my business. After all, I don’t know Sandy as well as you do. And as you say, being in love is what matters.” Suddenly he grinned sheepishly. “I do tend to put my foot in my mouth, don’t I? Especially with sisters. According to mine, anyway.

  Janine laughed. “And I’m oversensitive. Tell me about your sisters.”

  “There’s not much to tell. Both are older. Barbara is twenty-eight and Sheila is thirty. Both are happily married with a couple of kids, and both are slightly bored with being housewives. I’ve never had a younger sister. It’s kind of a nice change.”

  Janine laughed again. “Well, it’s a new experience for me too. Having a brother, I mean. I must admit that as siblings go you’re not bad.”

  “Thanks!” Mark said witheringly.

  They were interrupted by the waiter again. He seemed to approve of their laughter. He also seemed to think it was an auspicious moment, for he immediately said, “Dinner is good, yes?”

  “Yes,” Mark and Janine answered in unison.

  “More wine?”

  No.

  The waiter shrugged philosophically and took away the empty plates. As they waited for the next course, Mark talked about Greece. “You’d love it,” he teased, “all sorts of old ruins and things. And you’d like the islands…that is, if you don’t mind boats. That’s how to get to them, and the sea is sometimes quite rough.”

  Janine was amused at the notion. “I’ve been in small boats ever since I can remember! Every time we went on vacation my father found a chance to go fishing and he’d take me with him. By the time I was eight I was even baiting my own hook.”

  “And cleaning your own fish?” Mark interrupted.

  “No,” Janine admitted, “I’ve never gotten to the point of doing that. I can’t explain why, but I find it much easier to bait a hook.”

  “I’m glad to see you have some weaknesses,” he said wryly. “So what did you do, let the fish go?”

  Janine was shocked, “Of course not! The reason we went fishing was that we love fresh fish… something you can’t get in the supermarkets. Besides,” she said mischievously, “my mother established the rule that we had to eat all edible fish we caught. I think it was her way of keeping the length of our fishing expeditions reasonable.”

  “You can get fresh fish here, you know,” Mark said. “At the Buci market in fact.”

  “I know,” Janine said, slightly embarrassed. “I’ve been getting up my nerve to buy some, only the thought of cleaning them…”

  Mark burst out laughing, startling the waiter, who set down the plates and hurried away. After a minute or two, Mark was merely chuckling. Catching sight of Janine’s flame-red face he said, “Look, I’ve got an idea. We both like museums and Sandy doesn’t, so next Sunday why don’t I stop at the market on my way to your apartment? I’ll buy some fish and we’ll leave it in the refrigerator while we go to a museum. When we get back I’ll clean the fish if you’ll cook it and the rest of dinner. How does that sound?”

  “Very nice. Only…”

  “Only what? Sandy?”

  “No,” she replied biting her lower lip, “it’s just that I know it’s so absurd, my phobia about cleaning fish. It’s embarrassing.”

  “Why? Nothing says you have to be rational about everything. No one is, you know,” Mark replied seriously. “So, is it settled about next Sunday? Good. I’ll call you before I start over, just in case you’re still in bed.”

  Janine searched for a suitable reply to thi
s taunt and finally said in mock despair, “Brothers!”

  Both smiling, they attacked their food. Neither spoke again until they had been served coffee. Then Janine asked, “Why did you come to Paris to do your research? Is there someone you wanted to work with?”

  Mark grinned sheepishly. “You could say that and I did on my fellowship application. But the truth is I usually work completely alone. But there is a professor here who is interested in my work. The real reason, however, is that I wanted to be in Paris to be in Paris.”

  “Why?” Janine persisted.

  “For the same reason you would, I think,” he replied. “When I was ten and fifteen my parents brought my sisters and me to visit Europe, including Paris. I fell in love with the city and wanted to come back. But it’s not just that. I want to travel; to see as much of the world as I can. And it’s a lot easier and cheaper to visit Europe and the Middle East from Paris than from the States.”

  “Do you plan to stay in Paris?” Janine asked.

  “I don’t know,” Mark said honestly. “My fellowship runs out in a few months and it’s hard for foreigners to get jobs here, so I won’t be in Paris next year. I’d like to come back later, but I don’t know for how long. The idea of living in one place for the rest of my life, even Paris, is still pretty frightening.”

  “And next year?”

  Mark looked uncomfortable. “I’ve had two job offers I’m interested in. One is from a university in Switzerland and one is in Nigeria.”

  “Hmm,” Janine said quietly. “I don’t think Rena would like Nigeria.”

  “I know.” Mark sighed. “And even if she weren’t worried about things like the unrest in Africa there would still be her career to think about. It’s easier to find publishers for articles about Europe than about Africa. Especially since she may get that offer from Mademoiselle. No, the choice will have to be Switzerland.”

  “But you’d rather go to Nigeria?” Janine asked shrewdly.

  Mark laughed ruefully. “Is it that obvious? I like Switzerland and I’d like to go there. But, well, in Nigeria I’d at least feel I was needed,” he explained, choosing his words carefully. “There they’ve just opened a lot of new colleges and high schools. They need teachers, mathematicians even. It’s one of the few places where there is such a shortage of mathematicians. You know how it is in the States. And I’d like to be teaching students who want to learn.”