The knock at the suite door woke me from my sleep.
There was a brief moment where I did not know where I was. As I scanned the room, taking in all the rich, dark fabric flowing from the ceiling to the floor, I remembered. It was like a bad dream as it flooded back to my mind.
However not the bad dream I had last night. I dreamt of Mitch. Nothing about that was out of the ordinary, but something was different this time. Mitch didn’t look the same.
Usually when I dream of him, he is dressed in his black jeans and his button down dress shirt. The sleeves are rolled up a third of the way revealing a hint of the dark hair that covers his forearms. His leather watch I gave him our first Christmas together rests perfectly on his left wrist. Over his right shoulder is his computer satchel. He is dressed the same as the last day I saw him. He was heading out the door that morning to meet with a group of investors for a building he was proposing.
Instead of wishing him luck I pointed out that he should put on a tie or a sport coat. He kissed my forehead, ignoring my criticism and said 'je t'aime mon amour'. Just the same as he did every morning.
However, last night he was dressed in something more colourful. I think it was yellow. It was hard to see exactly what it was because he was fuzzy. There was no definite outline of him. He was just a blur. I chased him all night trying to see him more clearly and hear his words again. But when he spoke it was garbled and muffled somehow. It frightened me to think I might forget the sound of his voice. Or even forget the look in his blue eyes as he leaned towards me to kiss my forehead. What if I never see that again?
Then the knock came again reminding what woke me. I stumbled out of bed and grabbed the robe lying across the back of a winged-back chair. When I reached the door I fiddled with my long hair throwing it quickly into a knot at the back of my head.
I opened the door and there in front of me was a silver cart covered with a white linen cover. Officer Clemens came into view. “Bonjour, Mademosielle. Comment ca va?”
“Fine, um, bien. Merci, et vous?”
I wheeled the cart inside and closed the door. The curiosity was tugging at me. I whipped off the linen cover to reveal a metal covered tray with steam markings on the top. A single red rose lying across the top with a perfectly hand scripted note.
Instantly I fetched the note and the rose and went towards the triangle of couches in the room. The rose rested just below my nose as I read the handwritten note.
Good Morning My Darling (Ma Cherie).
Enjoy your day. I will call you at your
hotel tonight. Don’t forget to call your
sister – as she will not be able to reach
you through the front desk. J'adore.
For a moment the fairy tale became real again. He sent me a rose, a note and breakfast. What a sweet gesture. I rose to my feet to check on what the meal was that smelled so wonderful, when the thought accosted me. Stacie!
I ran for the phone. Quinn was right. She would have tried to call me through the hotel’s front desk, but I am no longer registered here under my own name. In fact I do not even know who I am registered under. All I know is that my sister will be having a cow.
The phone was answered on the second ring. “Allo.”
It was Neale. “Bonjour Neale. This is Cathie. How are you?”
“Cathie! Where are you? Stacie is frantic trying to locate you. She has gone to the police already.”
Neale’s accent could not hide the worry in his voice. “I am fine. Can you reach her?”
“Yes, she has my cell phone with her. I will call her.”
“Actually Neale, could you give me the number? I will just call her myself. She will want to hear my voice. Besides it might calm her down better.”
“You are right about that, however I would not hold my breath on the calming down part.” He chuckled.
I scribbled his cell number down on a pad of paper by the phone. “Merci beaucoup Neale. Au revoir.”
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