Paris Time

by D. B. Gilles

  “Better to live here, then die there,” Dalton shouted.

  Juliet took one last glance at Luger and his outstretched hand, then stepped back and stood next to Dalton.

  They both watched as Luger vanished into thin air, taking with him their only hope of getting back. Within seconds the rain, thunder and lightning ceased.

  Immobilized, they stared helplessly at the obelisk for a few seconds, then heard the man, who helped Juliet, moan. They went to him immediately. Dalton tried to help him get up, but in his barely conscious state, he couldn’t move. Juliet noticed a billfold on the ground next to him. She picked it up, opened and saw that it belonged to Luc Arceneau.

  “He managed to take this out of Luger’s jacket,” said Juliet, holding out the billfold and saying the man’s name aloud.

  Dalton walked to the man and helped him stand up. “Monseur Arceneau?” he asked. The man nodded yes and started mumbling in French as he rubbed his forehead. Because he was speaking so fast Dalton understood very little, but managed to put together enough to assume that Luger had stolen the man’s wallet and clothes and that he’d been searching for him all day.

  Juliet turned to Dalton and softly said, “Thank you in French is merci, right?”

  “Yes.”

  Juliet handed the man his billfold and managed a smile. “Merci.”

  As Luc Arceneau took the billfold he said, “Ce qui n'a que l'homme veulent de vous?”

  Juliet turned to Dalton for help translating the remark.

  “I think he asked you what Luger wanted from you?” Dalton turned to Jean-Pierre and said, “Il voulait voler son trop.”

  Luc nodded. “Ah.”

  To Juliet, Dalton said, “I told him he wanted to rob you too. We should go. He was unconscious, so I don’t think he saw Luger disappear, but if he remembers anything and starts asking questions, we shouldn’t be around. Say what I say to him.” He turned to Jean-Pierre. “Bonne nuit.”

  “Bonne nuit,” said Juliet.

  “Bonne nuit,” said Jean-Pierre.

  Dalton took Juliet by the right arm and they headed toward Rue di Rivoli to find a carriage.

  “What does ‘bonne nuit’ mean?”

  “Good night.”

  As they walked Dalton tried to decide when to tell Juliet about his encounter with Eliza. Considering that she was dealing with the fact that she would never be leaving Paris, he was concerned that learning her sister didn’t want to see her would be too devastating to hear right now. But as they reached Rue di Rivoli he decided that she should know now.

  “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  Juliet looked at him.

  “Eliza’s here! I saw her. She’s here!”

  Juliet looked at Dalton with a confused expression, then collapsed into his arms.

  Chapter 51

  Dalton picked Juliet up and looked for a carriage. Several sped by, but each was occupied. He felt as if he was in New York trying to hail a taxi in rush hour. Finally, one approached and stopped. He lifted Juliet onto the seat, looked at the driver who winked and said, “Trop de boire.” Dalton knew enough French to know that it meant “Too much to drink?”

  Dalton ignored the remark and said, “Twenty-two Rue de Buci.”

  As he settled into the seat, his arm around Juliet as her head rested in the crook of his left arm, he wondered how she would react when she learned that Eliza did not want to see her. As he waited for her to regain consciousness, that they were stranded in Paris without a way to get home, gripped Dalton with fear and helplessness.

  His practical side took over quickly.

  Normally when a problem landed in his lap, he would turn all his energies into solving it. But the situation he was in was more than a problem. It was an insoluble predicament. Without The Brimstone there was no hope of ever getting back to the life he knew.

  Had he not seen Eliza he might’ve concentrated his energy on figuring out what could be done to deal with the situation at hand, but he was genuinely concerned for Juliet’s sake.

  He tried to imagine what it would be like for her, after all these years, to be able to see her sister again.

  For a brief moment he wondered how it would be if he could see his father again. What would he say to him? And what would his father have to say?

  As he pondered that notion he heard Juliet stir and wake up. She looked at him awkwardly as she realized he had his arm around her. She didn’t make an effort to remove it.

  “Where did you see her?” Juliet asked, her voice soft. “How can you be sure it was Eliza?”

  “She was by the Sacre-Cour Basillica worksite. She was drawing in a sketchbook. When she stood up she was the tallest woman there. I knew it had to be her.”

  He described the encounter in detail, word for word as best as he could remember it. Before he got to the point where he was going to tell her that Eliza didn’t want to see her, Juliet interrupted. “Why didn’t she come with you?”

  Dalton hesitated. “The thing is... ”

  “Did you ask her to come with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where is she? Is she okay? Oh my God, I mean, it was probably a shock to find out I was here, but once she realized you were telling the truth, she would’ve trusted you. Should I meet her someplace? Did you find out where she would be? Where she’s staying?”

  “There was no time. But I gave her the card with the hotel’s address.”

  “Why wasn’t there time?”

  “I... ” he hesitated, not sure how to breach the subject. “Juliet, this is difficult, but... Eliza said she doesn’t want to see you.”

  Juliet stared at him, expressionless. “What? She doesn’t want to... ? Why?”

  “Basically because you didn’t want anything to do with her in the past and she doesn’t want anything to do with you now. I’m sorry. Then she turned and walked away. She threatened to call the cops if I followed her. I didn’t know what to do. I was going to head to the church where we said we’d meet, but on my way is when I saw you with Luger. I took off to try and help you. I’m sorry.”

  “Did she look happy?”

  “I can’t say.”

  “Healthy?”

  “I guess. I spent less than a minute with her.”

  “She must’ve hated me more than I imagined. Not that I blame her. I just thought that despite everything... I mean, the passage of seven years... her just up and leaving.”

  “To her it hasn’t been seven years. It’s been one day. She’s still twenty-one years old. Just like you.”

  The remark hung in the air for a moment, then Juliet said, “Time stands still. Like Proctor said.”

  “Maybe the shock was too much for her. Maybe when she wakes up tomorrow or in a couple of days, she’ll change her mind and she’ll come to the hotel.”

  Juliet said nothing, just stared straight ahead. After a few seconds, she said, “How do you feel about being stranded here forever?”

  “You don’t want to talk about Eliza anymore?”

  “What else is there to say? We’re stuck here. I want to know how you feel about being stuck in Paris, Dalton?”

  “Obviously I’m not happy, but there’s nothing we can do about it. There is something we can do about your sister, though.”

  “What?”

  “Keep looking for her. We know she’s here. We have her schedule. If we found her again and you went up to her face-to-face she might change her mind. Or you could at least get her to explain why she doesn’t want to see you.”

  “That’s a nice thought, Dalton, but she’s walking out of my life again. If we weren’t stuck here I’d say let’s get The Brimstone and go back right now. But we can’t.” Juliet stopped herself. “Oh my God! We have to get back to Proctor. Luger hit him. He might be injured.”

  “He’s okay. I went to him before I came to the obelisk. He’ll be relieved to see you.”

  She nodded. “What’s going to happen to us, Dalton? How are we going to survive i
n Paris in eighteen-eighty-eight?”

  “Eighteen-eighty-nine.”

  “You don’t know?

  “Know what?”

  She explained to him how they had arrived on the wrong date.

  Dalton was speechless, but before he could utter a word, Juliet said, “We have to tell Proctor.”

  Chapter 52

  When Dalton and Juliet entered the hotel room,

  Proctor was stretched out on the bed, breathing sporadically. He had placed a wet towel on his forehead. He looked at them and with a weak voice said, “Neither of you look happy.”

  “Luger pulled it off,” said Dalton. “He took The Brimstone back with him.”

  “What’ll he do with it when he gets back to New York?” Juliet asked.

  “He won’t be getting back,” said Proctor. “At least not back to New York. I set it to a different date and place.”

  Juliet perked up. “Where?”

  “When?” said Dalton.

  “There are twenty-nine Egyptian obelisks throughout the world, which means there are twenty-eight portals besides the one at Place de la Concorde. Let’s just say I sent him somewhere where he won’t do any harm.”

  Dalton smiled. Juliet looked upset.

  “Proctor,” she said. “Did you forget that he was planning on taking me with him?”

  “I didn’t forget.”

  “If a stranger hadn’t interfered, I would’ve gone with Luger to wherever you sent him.”

  “I’m aware of that.”

  “How could you have done something like that? To punish him is one thing, but why me?”

  “Because he most assuredly would have killed you when you got to New York. And as for where I sent him, you, unlike he, would have stood a chance to survive. That is assuming he gets there. I still don’t know the ramifications of doing it at a time other than midnight.”

  “Tell me where you sent him,” said Juliet. “You owe it to me to tell us.”

  “Very well. I sent him to Vaticano Obelisk located at Saint Peter’s Square in Rome. The year? Fifteen-eighty-six. The date? September twenty-sixth, which is the day it was blessed and consecrated. We’ll see how well he fares when he appears in his condition at the Vatican. The Swiss Guard will be upon him immediately. Juliet, had he taken you with him, as a young woman, you would’ve been in a better position to survive. My guess is that you would’ve been taken in by nuns.”

  “Your guess?” she said.

  “Let’s not concern ourselves with that now. You’re here. Safe. We’re all safe from Luger Pabst. He will not be tormenting us in Paris eighteen-eighty-eight.”

  “So you know?”

  “Excuse me?” asked Proctor.

  “That we arrived on the wrong date.”

  Feeling sheepish, Proctor knew he had no choice other than to fess up. “Yes.”

  “When did you realize it?” asked Juliet. “I found out from Luger.”

  “And she just told me.”

  “I knew from the moment we arrived. When I couldn’t see The Eiffel Tower.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” said Juliet.

  “I had your best interest at heart. Juliet, If you knew that we’d gotten here on the wrong date you would have immediately assumed that there was no hope that you would find your sister. I held on to the slim hope that Eliza also arrived today.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I set the Egyptian calendar to the exact place Dalton’s father had it set. I can only guess that when the lightening struck your father it also hit The Brimstone and threw it off its calibration. Fortunately, I was right.”

  “Unfortunately, my sister doesn’t want to see me.”

  Proctor nodded. “That’s regrettable, considering the journey you made. But for now you have a bigger problem. We need to focus on the very dire circumstances we are in, or shall I say, you two are in. What we have here is a situation that is a cataclysmic good news/bad news scenario. The good news, obviously, being that Eliza is in Paris. The bad news being that she does not wish to see you. However, that is not necessarily permanent bad news. She’s here, Juliet. You’re here. You can find her again and perhaps convince her to talk to you, so there is hope.”

  Dalton nodded in agreement.

  Juliet shrugged. “Eliza was always stubborn.”

  “Without The Brimstone you will not be returning to the lives you had in New York. As that was my plan for myself, it’s not an issue, but I can sympathize with the predicament you both are in. You will be living in Paris for the rest of your lives. Start accepting that fact now. You will need to learn the language. At this time in Paris, most people did not speak a second language and certainly not English. You will need to find a way to make a living. Juliet, as a chef, that shouldn’t be a problem. Dalton, as a factchecker you may have a more difficult time. But let’s not concern ourselves with jobs now. I have enough money to subsidize you both until you get on your feet.

  If you don’t wish to remain in Paris you have the option of going to England where the language will be less of a problem. Or even making your way back to The States by steam ship should living in Britain not be your cup of tea. However, you will not be arriving in America as a citizen. You will be a foreigner. An immigrant. And one without papers. It’s conceivable that you will not be allowed in. You may not be allowed into England either. We can get by here by some creative lying at first, then we’ll have to find someone to forge papers. Like all cities, Paris has an underworld where such things are obtained. Once we get the lay of the land, we’ll seek someone out. Although we will certainly miss the Internet and all its joys, in eighteen-eighty-eight, countries had no immediate way to check on an individual’s papers. Everything was done by snail mail and even that took forever. You’ll have plenty of time to decide what to do.”

  Dalton and Juliet both had the look of reluctant acceptance.

  Even Proctor, who wanted to be there, allowed the reality of his wish to sink in. A concern that hadn’t fully entered his mind suddenly took over his thoughts. He wondered if he would be able to find adequate medical care. His eyesight had been a problem for the last ten years and his teeth had cost him a small fortune. Then there was the high blood pressure and cholesterol problem. He brought with him all of the medication he had in his apartment, which he guessed could last six months. He wondered if his dream of living the rest of his life in his beloved Paris meant that it was destined to be a short one.

  As for Juliet, uppermost in her thoughts was her sister. Before Eliza had rejected the idea of seeing her, Juliet had questions. But now, there were more. She couldn’t decide if she was hurt or angry or both and she knew that she could never be free to live any kind of normal life in Paris until she could look Eliza in the eye and understand why she left without saying goodbye.

  Dalton was oddly at ease with the situation. He was never one to cry over spilt milk. He once edited a book written by an ex-convict and he remembered an observation the man had made on his first day of a two-year sentence. Other new prisoners were whining and complaining, but the author, who knew there would be no appeal, sat in his cell and said to himself, “I’m here for two years. There’s no way out. Deal with it.” The simplicity of the man’s acceptance impressed him.

  I’m in Paris in eighteen-eighty-eight. There’s no way out. Deal with it.

  “We’ve all had a very long day,” said Proctor. "I suggest that we get a good night’s sleep, then in the morning, we can regroup and try to come up with some kind of a game plan.”

  Dalton nodded in agreement. Juliet, looking depressed and lost in her thoughts, sat immobile.

  “Where should I sleep?” she asked.

  “There are two beds in the ante-room,” said Proctor. “Dalton and I will sleep in there. For privacy we can set up some kind of divider.”

  “I don’t care about privacy,” said Juliet. “You can sleep in the main room. I’ve been through more today with Dalton than with guys I’ve known for a year. I just want to
sleep.”

  She turned, crossed into the ante-room and plopped on the bed without even taking off her clothes.

  Proctor gestured from Dalton to approach him. “How long have you known, Juliet?”

  “About twenty minutes longer than you.”

  “I don’t know how tough she is, but getting the double whammy, as it were, of never being able to leave and learning her sister wants nothing to do with her, could result in serious emotional consequences. We both have to be here for her.”

  “Yes.”

  “Despite what her sister said, Juliet shouldn’t stop looking for her. We have the list of places she intended to go. She may follow it, she may not. The odds of finding her again are enormous. We’ll need luck. Without it, finding her could take... well, in a city the size of Paris, it’s conceivable we could never find her.”

  Dalton nodded in agreement.

  “You know a bit of the language, Juliet knows nothing. You both must become fluent. There are teachers. We’ll find one. You must also learn your way around the city. How many times did you visit Paris?”

  “Four.”

  “Use what you remember as the basis of your learning. First thing tomorrow, pick a famous monument and go to it. Walking is the best way. In the Paris of the future, certain bus lines were literal tours of the city. As for now, with the horse-drawn carriages, I don’t know the routes, but I imagine it won’t be difficult to find out. You’ll learn best by walking.” He sighed. “Rest up for tomorrow. Good night, Dalton.”

  “Good night.”

  Dalton walked to the bed next to Juliet’s. He took off everything but his underwear and crawled under the covers. He could hear Juliet breathing softly.

  As he closed his eyes his thoughts turned to his father and the letter he had hidden under the shrubbery at The Medici Fountain on October 5, 1889.

  Despite his exhaustion his mind was still buzzing, processing the information that today is August 30, 1888.

  He smiled at the irony that his father had left New York seven years ago and arrived in Paris in 1889 and that he was now in Paris thirteen months before.