Paris by Heart

by Nora James

  “Or we could take the stairs if you’re both up to it. That is the line for the elevator.” Paul pointed to a wire door to the side of the tower where only a few people were waiting. “That’s for the stairs.”

  “I want to climb the stairs. I can do it!” Christine jumped up and down with excitement.

  “We’ve done it once before, actually,” said Paul. “We took our time and stopped once or twice. And you only need go to the second floor. That’s the best view. There’s not a lot on the third floor, apart from a restaurant, and you’re too high up to distinguish anything much.”

  “That’s true,” said Elise. “And anyway I went up to the third floor with Dominique.”

  Elise stared up at the impressive height of the tower. It was lower than the One World Trade Center, she knew that, although it didn’t seem any smaller from where she stood. Her feet were sore from the cumulation of days and days of walking around Paris, too, despite her sensible shoes. Still, if a five year old could do it so could she, and she definitely didn’t have the heart to disappoint little Christine. “I guess I won’t need to exercise tomorrow after all those steps.”

  “OK then, let’s buy tickets for the stairs. We’ll climb to the stars together.” Paul placed his hand on Elise’s back and she shivered. It was hard not to lean into him and place her head on his shoulder, hard not to kiss those perfect lips and let her cheek rest against his strong hand.

  Christine huffed. “It’s day time, silly. The stars aren’t there. But we can climb to the clouds.”

  The pretty little girl leapt around like a frolicking deer and Elise and Paul burst into laughter, the kind that happy, proud parents share and for a moment Elise let herself believe that they were.

  ******

  As it turned out Paul, Elise and Christine didn’t have to climb all the way up to the second floor, which was just as well as Christine started to complain about how long it was taking only half way up to the first floor. Their arrival on the first floor was perfectly timed: they reached it when the elevator opened and more people than it could possibly fit spilled out of it.

  Only a few were continuing up to the second and third floors straight away, so Paul seized the opportunity for his family. He carried Christine in to protect her from being squashed. He shook himself. His family? What was he thinking? Elise would be gone in the blink of an eye. It annoyed him that he couldn’t seem to get that through his thick skull.

  Tourists ran up the stairs speaking German, Spanish and languages Paul couldn’t identify. They squeezed into the lift, pushing and shoving and Paul didn’t like the thought of Elise becoming separated from him and Christine. “Hang onto my shirt,” he said and she did, placing her slender fingers against his side.

  Her touch was innocent but it felt so good. No—it was more than that—it was a thrill to him. He’d longed for that sensation all morning and if it hadn’t been for the fear of hurting his daughter when Elise left their lives on Wednesday, he’d have behaved like a teenager, kissing and hugging this woman who made his heart beat in public without restraint or concern for what others might think. Elise drove him crazy with her angelic face, her curves, her scent. He’d never been like this with anyone, not even in high school. It wasn’t just physical, either. She was everything he’d ever wanted in a companion and more. He sighed as he remembered he couldn’t keep her by his side. This was a temporary relationship, a fling, nothing more, he told himself. It was the way it had to be and he’d known it from the start.

  The elevator door opened and they stepped out into the fresh air. It felt slightly cooler up here because of the wind. He put Christine down and studied Elise’s face. She seemed less serene than usual as she looked out over Paris, as if the sight made her suffer.

  “Are you disappointed with the view?”

  She shook her head and he could tell from the tightness of her smile that something was wrong. He wondered if the dread that filled his heart also filled hers.

  “It’s not that,” said Elise. She frowned. “Where’s Christine going?”

  He looked around and saw Christine was heading off. He hurried after his daughter, grabbed her hand and brought her back. “Stay near us. I don’t want to lose you.”

  “But I’m bored.”

  “How about I show you all the places I’ve been in Paris?” Elise asked, her lips softly curling upwards.

  Christine instantly returned Elise’s smile and it made Paul want to hug them both. It was lovely to see his daughter relate so easily to a woman. She certainly wasn’t that secure and trusting with Nicole. He knew Nicole was Christine’s mother and he’d done his best to encourage the relationship but it really hadn’t developed in an ideal fashion, not nearly as deep and trusting as it should have been between mother and daughter. Paul had Nicole’s instability and unpredictability to thank for that.

  Elise lifted Christine up and held her behind the safety mesh that fenced in the second floor. “See over there, that’s Le Louvre, you know, the beautiful big museum with all sorts of treasures in it. The glass pyramid’s in front of it. I think it might be that shiny spot there. I walked all around that museum and got blisters on my feet. And that up there, that sparkling white building with the rounded roof, that’s the Sacré Coeur.”

  “Sacré Coeur?” Christine asked wide-eyed. “A heart?”

  “Not a real heart. Sacred Heart is the name of the basilica, a big church if you like. One day when you’re older I’ll tell you how it got its name.” Elise looked down and seemed to hesitate before continuing. “I mean, you can ask your father about that when you’re bigger. Look over there, that’s the river Seine. Although you can’t see it much you can see the bridge. Oh, and do you see Notre-Dame there? I’ve been around those streets many times and thought of you often while I was walking. I know Paris by heart now.”

  She put down Christine who was beaming. “And leaving it is going to break mine,” Elise whispered. She gazed into Paul’s eyes and a lump formed in his throat. Her message was clear and he felt the same. He would miss Elise. He would miss her terribly. It didn’t seem right that it had to end like this. It didn’t even seem possible that it would, but he had to face that fact. Ignoring the inevitable wouldn’t make it disappear. If anything, it would increase the agony of it.

  If only there was a way to stop her from leaving, to keep her here with him, in his arms every night, by his side every day, he’d do it. But she had a life in Australia, a house, a job, family and friends. How could he ask her to give up all that? It wouldn’t be fair to her. She’d known him less than two months, she struggled with French, she was in Paris on a student visa and a limited budget.

  He’d thought about following her to Australia, but that was only when he lay sleepless in the middle of the night. He knew it was nearly impossible to enter the country with its stringent immigration laws and he’d heard it could take years, years during which Elise would forget him. And then there was the small problem of Nicole. He wasn’t sure he could take Christine so far from her, wasn’t sure it would be the best option for Christine or even if he’d ever be allowed to do it.

  Christine stomped her feet on the metal floor. “Shall we go back down?” asked Paul, brought back to reality once again by his five year old’s restlessness. Children had a way of forcing you into the present and holding you there.

  “Sure.” Elise wrapped her hand around Christine’s who’d clearly taken a shine to her and behaved better than ever when she had the pretty woman’s attention.

  “I love you,” Christine said, very matter-of-fact.

  Elise seemed troubled, and he interpreted her silence as a cry for help.

  Paul came to the rescue. “You mean you like Elise.”

  “No, I love Elise.” Christine blew Elise a gentle kiss. “Why won’t you be my mummy?”

  The words stunned Paul. Elise, too, stood motionless for a moment, but she soon hugged the child and Paul could see how much she cared for his daughter.

  P
aul picked up his little girl. “It’s complicated, Christine.”

  He saw Elise’s lip tremble and she bit it, no doubt in an effort to control it while she seemed to blink back tears. Christine must have noticed too, for she also began to cry almost on cue. It was too much for him to take, too much for any of them. He wrapped his arms around the two most important women in the world and they each placed their head against his chest.

  It felt right, the three of them like this, in each other’s arms.

  It felt right and it hurt.

  They held each other above Paris with so much love in their heavy hearts and together they sobbed for the future they couldn’t have.

  Chapter 25

  Paul caressed Elise’s hair as they lay side by side, the velvet bedcovers at their feet. Their love-making had left Elise aching for she knew it was the last time. Paul hadn’t said much either for a while and she guessed that the same emptiness was ravaging his soul.

  He spoke at last. “I wish this didn’t have to end.”

  “Shh.” She pressed her index finger against his lip. “We have tonight. We can make this evening perfect.” The truth was, it couldn’t be perfect because of the knowledge of what tomorrow would bring—but they could pretend, couldn’t they? The pain of separation would come soon enough.

  He kissed her on the mouth with the passion of those who expect to be torn from one another too soon and she struggled to keep her composure. She so wanted the evening to be filled with pleasure and joy, yet no matter how hard they tried the latter was proving elusive. They needed a distraction.

  “Shall we go out to dinner?” She sat up and clapped with too much enthusiasm.

  He pulled a face. “I can’t face food.”

  “You, saying no to food?” She laughed. “Come on, I’m buying.”

  “Never! I won’t hear of it. Men in France do not let their women pay for dinner.”

  “That’s rather old-fashioned, but if you insist…”

  “Speaking of old-fashioned, I’ll take you to the airport tomorrow morning.”

  “You’ll be working. And you don’t own a car.”

  “Hardly anyone does in Paris. But I can borrow Julie’s and she’s happy for me to take the day off. I can stay the night, too. Monique is sleeping at my apartment tonight to look after Christine.”

  She shook her head. “No, no, I know you like to be there for Christine when she wakes up.”

  “It’s OK, really. I explained to her that Monique might be there in the morning.”

  Elise rubbed her face. “I need a good night before the flight. It’s exhausting, twenty two hours to get home.”

  “At least you have a stop in Singapore.”

  She nodded. “Yes, but still, if you stay I don’t see us sleeping very much. Do you mind?”

  He bit his lip. “All right then, whatever’s best for you. What time shall I pick you up in the morning?”

  She didn’t want to think about it, couldn’t bear to picture the trip to Charles de Gaulle with Paul. They would be like lambs heading to slaughter overwhelmed by fear as they sensed the imminent danger.

  Paul raised his eyebrows and held up his palms, waiting for her to answer, so she gave him a time.

  “Ten past ten, please.”

  “Shall we have breakfast together first?”

  “I don’t like catching a plane on a full stomach.”

  He clicked his tongue. “So that’s another ‘no’. I’m starting to feel unwanted.” He laughed and sought her gaze.

  She jumped to her feet and hurried to the bathroom not only to wash but to avoid having to look at him, scared that the dam might burst. She didn’t want to break down, was doing her very best to hold it together. Since there had to be an exit, a dignified one was what she had chosen.

  She stepped into the shower and turned on the hot water. As she let the warm droplets run between her breasts and down her thighs she realised that she missed Paul’s arms already. In a restaurant they wouldn’t be able to hold each other the way they did here, wouldn’t be able to lay skin against skin for as long as they liked. She patted herself dry with a towel, returned to the bed and jumped on it, bouncing up and down like a child.

  Paul let out a surprised gasp. “You should have told me we were doing this. I could have brought Christine.”

  Laughing, he reached for her legs and pulled her down. She fell next to him and they rolled around on the bed like children down a hill.

  After a few moments they settled and Elise caught her breath. “I don’t know if I’ll manage to behave at a restaurant. I won’t be able to keep my hands off you. Shall we stay here instead?”

  He frowned as he pondered the question. “And what about food? You’re hungry, right? I can’t let you starve.”

  She wasn’t that hungry, but she wanted to avoid the sadness she’d felt earlier, to keep their minds occupied so that they didn’t think of her departure the next day. Food seemed a good way to do this.

  “I know! You can cook for me. Julie won’t mind if we use the café, will she? We could leave the money for the meals. That way she sells two more dishes and gets free labour since you’ll be working after hours.”

  His lips curled into a disarming smile and the glint in his eye told her that he had a mischievous idea. “All right. I will cook for you but only if we play a game.”

  “Oh? What kind of game?”

  “An interesting one, trust me.”

  ******

  Elise sat on a stool in the café’s kitchen, swinging her legs about, and watched Paul prepare plump white mushrooms. He cupped his hands around them and brought them to his nose, closing his eyes as he inhaled deeply. She could nearly see the scent entering his nostrils and travelling to his brain where it hit his pleasure centre. It was like watching him make love all over again. She admired how he let his entire body be carried by his senses, how he gave himself so completely to his passions. It was sexy and endearing at the same time, warming both her body and her soul. In the short time he’d been with her he’d shown her how to enjoy life more than any man ever had.

  He cleaned the vegetables with a small pastry brush, the soft bristles flicking off tiny particles of soil. “You must never wash mushrooms. The water seeps in and spoils the flavour and the texture. A brush is enough to clean them.” He placed them on a chopping board. “Don’t tell Christine or she’ll be brushing her body instead of taking a bath.”

  Elise chuckled as she imagined the little girl trying to clean her black feet with her hairbrush after a run in the park. “I won’t. I promise.”

  Paul planted a kiss on Elise’s cheek, nothing but a sweet peck and yet it sent a tingle down to her toes. She loved the chemistry between them, was thankful that she’d experienced it at least once in her life.

  “I’m going to have to ask you to turn around,” Paul continued. “I don’t want you to see what I’m making.”

  “Mr Mysterious… Am I allowed to talk?”

  “You know I like it when you do. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  He glanced at her with his best bedroom eyes and the fire in her belly reignited. For an instant she thought of dragging him back to bed without civility to satisfy a hunger of a different kind. It was tempting, but he gestured for her to face the wall so she obeyed, swivelling around on her stool.

  She heard the knife against the chopping board and imagined Paul’s hands working skilfully. She listened to water running and splashing around and then steel against steel, the clank of what she guessed was a pot on the stove.

  “A pinch of this, some of that and voilà!”

  She found herself salivating. “It smells divine.”

  The aroma was amazing and she couldn’t wait to devour the dish even though a few minutes ago she was only thinking of eating out to cheer them up. She was too curious about what he was preparing though, tempted to forget the rules and take a peek at what was cooking. She wanted to feast her eyes on Paul, too, to make the most of every sec
ond left with him. She turned around quickly, to furtively steal a glimpse of the man who made her heart beat and the food that made her mouth water.

  He crossed his arms. “You’re cheating! And this is your punishment.”

  He leaned forward and as she lengthened her neck in anticipation of his kiss he produced a striped tea towel and swiftly wrapped it over her eyes.

  “I can’t see anything!”

  “That, my darling, is the purpose of a blindfold.”

  She heard the clinking of what she thought was the coming together of cutlery and plates and soon sensed Paul in front of her, the energy he brought palpable even though she couldn’t see him.

  “Taste this. You have to tell me what’s in it. If you guess right I will do whatever you want. Each time you are wrong, you take off a piece of clothing of my choice.”

  Her lips twisted with amusement. “You’ll be naked first and then doing the dishes. You know that, right?”

  She was sure of her sense of taste. She enjoyed refined foods and loved cooking. And she knew her spices. He wasn’t the only one who could recognise saffron. Besides, her first guess was a guaranteed win. She’d already seen the mushrooms.

  “And the mushrooms don’t count because you saw me getting them ready. Besides, they’re a side dish. Taste this. Tell me Heaven isn’t right here.”

  She felt the spoon come to her lips, the metal warmed by its content. She breathed in the aroma, stronger now that the food was straight under her nose. It was incredible, rich and complex, not the type of dish you could prepare in ten or fifteen minutes.

  “How can you make something this good this fast?”

  “Aha! I never said I’d start from scratch. It’s the ‘here’s one I made earlier’ trick. You should always have something ready, or at least a good base for a dish, in your fridge.”

  She chuckled. “And I’m the one who cheated by taking a sneak peek?” She tasted a little of the mixture and groaned with pleasure. What would be in there for sure? “Onion.”

  “True. I’m at your command, Mademoiselle.”

  “Take off your shirt.” The rustling of crisp cotton told her he’d removed it, but she saw an opportunity. “Come here, I need to check.” She felt his body heat, held out her hand and ran it over his smooth torso. His skin was soft, his abdomen taut and she had come to know every rise and fall, his shape carved into her memory.