Chapter thirteen, page one

Quinn had one eye watching me and the other eye watching his own movements.  Finally his hands stilled and his arms slowly fell to his side.

“Tell me something, Cherie.”

I nodded.

“What sort of images are you entertaining at this moment?”

The mirror in front of me would not conceal my blush.  I stammered for the right words.

He turned around and smiled deeply.  “Are those sins too?”

Chapter twelve, page three

A comfortable silence followed us as we walked to my hotel room to clean up for the dinner party.  While we rode the elevator, Quinn’s phone buzzed.  As he answered it and rattled on in French to someone, I paid no attention.  There still was a battle waging in my head for what to believe.  My mind definitely wasn’t in the same place as my heart. 

Thirty-six hours ago and a continent away I was a barely-breathing, depressed widow convinced life needed to pass me by.  That without Mitch there was no reason to be happy or experience the rest of my life.  I had hoped and planned to experience it all with him.  Now look at me.  I am opening the doors to an amazing penthouse suite in Paris.  There is a devilishly handsome man at my hip that is interesting in me.  Instead of revelling in that, I am chastising myself for my own wayward thoughts about him.

Quinn hung up his cell phone.  “That was the detective.  He needs me to come down to the station for some questions and paperwork.  It seems that Dean is still trying to organize his bail, so we are set for the dinner party.  Would you mind if I quickly clean up and then head there?”

Chapter twelve, page one

Quinn's voice caught me amidst my travels down memory lane.  “Are you alright, Cherie?”

“Yes.  Sorry if I am taking too long.”  I stepped into the full red dress and pulled it up over my hips.

“I was beginning to worry you might not show me anymore outfits.”  I could hear his smile through his words.

Although his words were registering in my head, my thoughts were consumed by what my eyes were seeing.  The red dress fit me perfectly.  It had a v-neckline and the bodice criss-crossed in the front making it easy to fasten solo.  I stood frozen in front of the mirror.  The image in the mirror was captivating even me. 

Slowly I smoothed the dress against my body curves, turning slightly to view the other angles.  ‘I don’t know if you can see this Mitch, but I would take your breath away.  You’d love this dress on me.’

Slowly I filled my lungs with fresh new air and opened the change room door.  This time Quinn was sitting on a comfy high-armed chair.

I was certain as he watched me exit from the small change room he was struggling for breath as I had been earlier.  His eyes closed as his mouth curved into a smile.  He let out a soft moan before opening his eyes.  “Cherie ...” he whispered.

Chapter eleven, page two

“I remember the summer after Anna was born.  I was going to turn six that August.”  Quinn spoke quietly amidst the hustle of people around us.

“Once school was let out I had to spend my days outside with my father.  I am not sure if it was his idea or my mum’s, but I had no options.  Anna stayed in to be coddled and enjoyed by my mum and I was cast outdoors to be harassed and chided by my father.

“I thought I knew how mean my father was, until I saw firsthand how he treated the sheep.  There were times when it made me feel better; that at least he didn’t love them more than me.  But most of the time I just hated him.”

Quinn looked at me shamefaced.  I reached my hand over to join it with his as he mangled his fingers together in a mass.  He accepted my fingers and gently caressed them.

“You aren’t going to like the rest of my story, Cherie.”

“Not everyone had the privilege of a storybook childhood, Quinn.  I don’t judge you.”

He squeezed my hand and continued on with his story.  “Later that summer, our neighbour Mr. Petheridge, was found dead in his barn.  Apparently he had a heart attack and no one knew.  His wife was accustomed to him wandering off to the local pub sometimes and not telling her so she didn’t think anything of it when he wasn’t at dinner.  She found him the next day.”  Quinn released my hand and cupped his head into his shaky hands. 

Scooting over closer on the bench, I wrapped my arms around him for comfort but he pushed me away.

“Cathie, you don’t understand.  I was not sad for my neighbour.  I was six years old; I could have cared less about him.  All I wanted was for my father to die the same way.  I prayed that God would let him die outside in the cold all alone.  I prayed and hoped for it.”

Naturally I was shocked by his admission.  I struggled not to show it and condemn him for his honesty.

“I prayed for it every day for a year or more.  I couldn’t understand why God wouldn’t listen.  My father was a mean man.  He treated us all with contempt.  Even my mum.  I always figured God didn’t respond because my father was so horrible that even God, himself, didn’t want him.”  As Quinn lifted his face to see me, there was a tear clinging to the edge of his right eye.  When he blinked it lost its hold and slid down the tip of his cheek.  He wiped it away furiously.

Standing and offering me his hand, he flicked his strong emotions off and replaced them with a smile.  “God doesn’t love everybody Cathie.”  A large sigh caused Quinn’s chest to rise and fall chasing out anymore pain that was lingering.  “He only wants the good people in heaven with him.  That is why he took my mum instead of my father.  That’s also why he'll take Anna but he won't take me.”

I couldn’t take his outstretched hand.  It would mean my acceptance that this conversation was over.  “Quinn, I –“.

He squatted in front of me.  His eyes twinkled with residual moisture.  His smile was soft and sweet.  “Let’s go find you a dress just for fun.”  He pulled me up to standing against his chest.  “Then tonight when we are alone,” he glanced in both directions at the crowds passing by.  “Then I will tell you everything else you want to know.”  He shook his head ever so slightly.  “Not here.  Okay?”

How could I refuse him?  “Okay.”

He spun around on his heels and nearly skipped in through the doors of the ladies wear store.  Unfortunately my feet were not as exuberant.  A young woman with a golden name tag greeted him almost instantly.  They exchanged words in French and then Quinn turned to me.  Together they watched me while he chatted on about something I could not hear. 

My progress still had not reached the store entrance.  The reluctance weighing my heart finally came out in a prayer.  ‘Lord, now would be a good time for another vision.  I know there is little chance Dean would be shopping in this mall, but perhaps you have a bomb I need to diffuse or even rescue a child from a runaway escalator?’

“Are you going to stand out there talking to yourself all afternoon?”  Quinn’s joyful wink and smile were irresistible to my weakened emotions.  I shook my head and walked right into his awaiting embrace.  He grabbed my hand and led me towards the changing area at the back of the store.

The clerk approached me with several pieces thrown across her arm.  “I assume you are an American size eight?”

“Um, yes, I am.  But you don’t have to find the clothes for me.”  I was a little worried about what she had hanging over her arm, but at first glance I didn’t see any black silk tea towels.

She winked at Quinn and then spoke to me.  “The gentleman suggested a few ‘modest’ dresses to start with.”

I turned to Quinn who was grinning like a school boy.  “He did, did he?” I said.

His hand snaked its way around my waist.  “Cherie, I may not agree with everything you say, but I am paying attention.”  He winked and I melted.

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chapter ten, page three

Our first stop inside the shopping centre was the food court.  It had been several hours since we sat at the little cafe across from my hotel for lunch.  

It boggled my mind to think of everything that had transpired since then.  Quinn had taken me to meet his sister, who was wonderful.  However she revealed a most disturbing revelation that rattled my world.  Only to be outdone by Quinn’s home burning to the ground leaving him homeless and lost in every sense of the word.  Now, of all things, we are shopping.

Our time together felt effortless.  Quinn’s demeanour was once again lively and fun-natured.  Somehow amidst all this turmoil he managed to shed his anger and face life with a smile again.  It was of course his devilishly handsome smile.  Every time he laughed or teased me my heart sang.

Our snack was precisely that – a small taste of French culture, he said.  He did not want to spoil my appetite, all the while raving about Jane’s feast that awaited us.  

Quinn was as giddy as a school boy as he introduced me to two of his favourite treats.  ‘Croque-monsieur’ was a couple pieces of grilled French bread with ham and cheese melted inside and ‘pain au chocolat’ was a croissant with a wedge of chocolate inside.  We bought one of each and shared them.  Naturally, he added, his recipe was better than the food court version.

Once our tummies were satisfied, Quinn excitedly dragged me into a men’s clothing store on the second floor to find him an outfit for the party.  He greeted the woman at the counter and immediately turned to me.  “Which one should I get?”

It was hard to hide my shock.  “You want me to pick?”  I stumbled for words as my eyes took in all the fashion surrounding us.  “I don’t know what you like.”

“Cherie, I am a man.  I’ll like whatever you like.”  Then he turned to the lady approaching us and spoke in French.  She turned away and went straight to work.  Her arms were soon weighted down with many articles of clothing as she ‘shopped’ for Quinn.

In a haughty French accent she passed by us announcing, “come”.

Following her to the changing room area, Quinn excitement grew. He followed her right into the cubicle.  They exchanged a few words and she left hardly acknowledging my existence.  I plopped myself onto a large orange triangle.  It was like an ottoman resting against a wall, but it was big enough for two.

 

The first time he popped out from behind his change room door he was decked out in a stylish black buttoned shirt with grey pants and a grey vested cardigan over top.  With a flick of his hair away from his face he looked like a fashion model.  It made my breath catch in my throat.  He looked gorgeous.

“Do you like this look?”  He asked as he turned a few different directions in front of me.

Gasp!  I didn’t need to see any more angles of him.  He looked stunning.  “Oh, it’s nice.  Do you like it?” 

Swallowing the large lump wedged in my throat actually hurt.  How dare I feel this way?  I am a widow.

“Nice, huh?”  Then he swung around and headed back into the change room. 

I breathed a sigh of relief giving my heart rate time to slow.

He chattered on while he changed about his belief that all women loved to shop and how I was shattering that image.  Instead of my interest in his words, they were merely a means to an end.  A distraction.  Maybe I should excuse myself and let him shop with the aid of the woman at the counter.  I leaned over on my ottoman to get a glimpse of her.  She was standing at her station filing her nails.

Just then the change room door opened and I turned to see the next product.  His breathtaking, almost regal pose sent my heart into overdrive.  I may be a widow but I am not dead – obviously!

Breathe Cathie!  The words screamed in my ears as I took in the next view of Quinn-like perfection.  He had a pair of dark coloured and form fitting slacks on with a white buttoned down shirt open loose at the bottom.  There was a slender black silk tie hanging loosely from his open collar.  Then a black leather jacket hung from his finger as he draped it behind his shoulder.  He really was posing like a model.

I blinked several times giving pause for my throat to produce words.  “Are you doing that on purpose?”

“What?”  His innocent look passed over me with little effect as he did his spin around.  “I only want to know what you thing.  Is this one better than the first one?”

“They're both good.  Just pick whichever one you like best.”  I added in exasperation.

He closed the distance between us and squatted at the base of my ottoman.  Our eyes were level with one another and my heart did the most fearsome pitter-patter imaginable.  “Are you alright, Cherie?”

Breathe!  “I am fine.  I am sorry if I was curt.”

“Well, you were.  If I look dreadful I would appreciate you telling me now before I step out in public.  Honestly, you won’t hurt my feelings.”

Dreadful?  My frantic, racing heart could only wish.  “Quinn,” I extended my hand to his stubbly cheek.  “You look anything but dreadful.”

His eyes danced for a moment as he interpreted my words.  He leaned a little closer to me.  “Do you like it then, my Dear?”

“Yes.”  My voice could barely muster a whisper as I struggled with the rising emotions in me.

For a moment he didn’t budge.  He remained there, a breath’s distance from me looking like my knight in shining armour.  Then he stood with that mischievous smile he sports so often.  Without a word he headed back into the change room.  I was certain my heart could not take any more outfits like the last two.

As I sat in my place practising my breathing, Quinn’s head popped over the top of the change room door.

“Cherie, would you be a peach and grab me a pair of trousers and a shirt to match just for regular wear?”

“Trousers?”

“Yes, please.” 

I stood reluctantly and headed towards the lady at the counter.  Perhaps she could show me the ‘trouser’ rack.

Well, the look she gave me when I asked her where I would find the trousers told me I was completely brainless.  She surveyed her hand out across the whole room.   “What kind of trousers?”

She might as well have added the ‘duh’ sound after her question.  I thanked her and then started to peruse the clothing racks all by myself.  Okay Lord, if you can direct me on how to keep Quinn alive, perhaps you can direct me to the right kind of ‘trousers’.

Then Quinn wandered out of the changing area with a few items draped over his arm.  He handed them to the lady at the counter who offered him a warm and enticing smile.  He didn’t even seem to notice though as he made a beeline right to me.

“Did you find anything you like?”

“I will be completely honest with you.  I don’t really know what trousers are.  I mean, I think of them as pants my grandfather would wear.  Is that what you really want?”

Quinn stifled a giggle and reached over my shoulder to a pile of clothing behind me.  He pulled back his arm with a pair of jeans in his hand.  “Would you Grandfather wear these trousers?”

He smiled and then turned back to the lady at the counter not even waiting on my response.

“Do you carry socks and pants as well?”

The lady shook her head.

Quinn shrugged his shoulders and then approached her counter pulling his wallet from his back pocket.  All the while I was thinking he was holding the pants but that must refer to something else I was ignorant of.

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Chapter ten, page one

Before I could slow my own breathing, Quinn returned to the car.  His pace spoke volumes.  He walked right up to the car door, opened it then quickly slammed it shut again.  I heard him mumbling in French as he paced away from the car.

Slowly I exited the vehicle.  “Quinn?”

His tightened eyes turned on me.  “What?”

I was afraid to approach him.  His eyes burned with fury.  I leaned against the hood of the car.  “I’m sorry.”

“Everything is gone.”  He hid his face in his hands.  “I stored photographs of my mum there.  Gone.  Anna’s things were in my house.  She will need those when she gets out of the hospital.  But they are all gone now!”

Once again his compassion for others was obvious, as it bled through the cracks in his anger.  “I’m so sorry Quinn.”

“No.  Do not speak.  It’s His fault, not yours.”  He pointed upward.

Then he shook his fists into the sky.  “What do you want from me?”

His anger startled me.  The temples beyond his darkening eyes were pulsing.  How could you blame him, really?  The last twenty four hours have been nothing short of a disaster.  However I had never envisioned his soft and happy nature resorting to these kinds of emotions.

He stepped towards me.  “What does He want from me?  What possible explanation can He offer for this?”

I have never had to stand in the gap for God before.  I felt unqualified to say the least.  I cannot answer Quinn's question of why.  I can only attest to the nature of God and the abundant love of Jesus.  However, I don’t think now is the time for that.

Quinn didn’t pause long enough for my answer anyway.  “He took my business and my house.”  He turned to the heavens again.  “What’s next?  My car?”

He closed the distance to the car in one single leap.  His fists came down on the hood with a fierce vengeance.  His feet kicked the tires.  “You can have it!  Take it all!  Take it!"  He collapsed on the hood of the black car with a thump.  "But you can’t have Anna!”  

Then it was quiet.  The sound felt deafening after the abrupt end to his tirade.  But I could hear his breathing.  It was laced with pain in each quick and laboured breath.  

How could I possibly show the love of a Saviour to this broken man?  As I stood on the opposite side of the car hood all I could do was pray for Quinn.  

In the last day since I’ve met him he has lost almost everything.  And he is right to fear what might come next.  Based on Anna’s condition today she can’t possibly have much time left.

Suddenly his head rose from the car.  “Come Cathie.”  It wasn’t an invitation.  His voice carried an edge.  Slowly I made my way to him.  My hope was to offer him comfort.  He needed to know he wasn’t alone.

As I edged around his car towards him his arm snaked out, grabbing my waist and pulling me in like a tractor beam.  His arms surrounding me were tight and secure.  He needed me.  So I wrapped my arms around his neck.  Suddenly his hands lifted me up under my arms and planted me onto the car hood.  His forehead rested firmly against mine.

An anguished whisper caressed my nose.  “Cathie, He is going to take you from me too.”

I moved his face back a few inches from mine.

“Quinn.  You are wrong about that.  God is not taking me from you.  I don’t live here, remember.  In six days I am flying home.  That’s all.”

His eyes were darker than usual and rimmed with moisture.  “It matters none.  You will be gone just like everything else I dare to care about.”

He pressed his lips hard to my forehead.  Then my cheek.  And my neck.  He continued to kiss me with a palpable desperation. 

I pressed him back.

“Please do not go.”  His adam’s apple bounced as a large lump travelled down his throat.  “Do not leave me Cathie.  I need you.”

Taking his face in my hands I searched his eyes.  “Quinn, listen to me.  I am here for you now.”

As my words took root he straightened his body, gained his composure and withdrew from me.  I suppose my words weren’t as comforting as I had planned them to be.

He slid me off the hood.   “Get in.”  Then he crawled into the driver’s seat. 

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Chapter nine, page three

Once we were settled in the car and on the road Quinn gingerly attempted a conversation.

“Did you like my sister a little?”

“Oh Quinn, I loved her.  Please do not think I left because of her.”

“Well, it is unanimous then.  She loved you too.  She made me promise if I found you that I would bring you back again before you fly home.”

“Oh.”  What would I say to her?  I was so rude to run out and she’ll want to know why.  That is something I cannot look forward to.  I just smiled sheepishly at Quinn hoping he would change the topic.

He bobbed his head back and forth.  “Or maybe not?  Let’s not focus on that now.  I need to get you back to your hotel for a rest.”

“I’m fine.  Really I am.”

“Uhhuh.”  His sarcastic response was nearly drowned out by the ring of his cell phone.

He scrambled in his back pocket for it.  “Allo.”

“Ay, oui.  Je suis Quinn.”

“Oh, bonjour Detective.  Je conduis dans la rue d'Ulm.”

“Ma maison?”

As soon as I heard the word ‘house’, my head shot to my left.  “It was your house?”  The image of the burning home came back to me.  I had forgotten all about it in my own personal turmoil.

Quinn looked at me as he listened to the cellphone at his ear.  Then he flicked on his signal light in a fury.

“Merci, Detective.  Je serai là.”  He closed his phone and tossed it onto the console between us.  Without a moment’s pause he whipped the car in a frantic u-turn and sped down the street in the opposite direction.

He remained speechless as we flew through the afternoon traffic. He took deep, slow audible breathes as my head hurt from trying to sort it all out.  There were no words that came to my mind that seemed appropriate.  Was that really his house, Lord?  What is happening?

Finally Quinn spoke as he darted in and out between the fellow drivers.  “Sorry Cherie, but we need to make a quick stop before I take you back.”

“That’s fine.  What did the detective say?”

“There seems to be a little trouble at my house.”

“A fire?”

He turned to look at me.  “Did you overhear the conversation or ...?”

“I saw it.”  I felt horrible almost as if I had caused the fire.  “I’m so sorry that I didn’t tell you.  I didn’t know it was your house.”

“When did you see it?”

“In Anna’s room, while you were meeting with the doctors.”

“Is that why you ran out?”

“No.”  The guilt and shame mounted upon me like a heavy backpack.  Quinn stared straight ahead as he drove and I feared he would not be able to overlook this.  Perhaps he would not forgive me.  So I sat there, brewing in all the toxic emotions consuming me.

There was nothing said after that until we turned down a residential street lined with trees.  Ahead of us was several fire trucks parked perpendicular in the street blocking our access.  Quinn parked his car in the middle of the street and turned off the engine.  

He reached for the door handle but paused.  His face turned to me as he squeezed my trembling hands on my lap.  “Don’t worry Cherie.  From what the detective said on the phone I would have needed to know hours ago in order to do anything about it.”

I saw his worry or fear building in the corner of his eyes before he fled the vehicle.

Quinn walked briskly around the back end of a fire truck and out of my line of sight.  He hadn't invited me to join him so I stayed.  Somehow, I felt responsible for this new tragedy in his life.

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Chapter seven, page three

After a much quieter meal than I expected, Stacie rose to leave.  “I’m worried about leaving you.”  She leaned over offering me a hug.

“I will be fine.  Call me tomorrow morning.”

Quinn piped in quickly.  “When you call the hotel, ask for Leslie Caron’s room.  And you will need-“

“Who’s Leslie Caron?”  Stacie budded in.

Quinn paused and gave her an incredulous look.  “Who is Leslie Caron?  What rock have you been living under here?”

Stacie shrugged.

“Not only is she a famous French actress but she is one of the best dancers to ever grace the stage.  She has danced with the likes of Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly.”

“Oh.  Why did you pick that name?  Cathie can’t dance.”

Quinn turned his eyes laced with intrigue to me.  “Then I’ll teach her.” 

It was nice to finally be noticed in the conversation but his look unsettled my heart again.

“Whatever.”  Stacie stated as she headed for the door.

“Wait.”  Quinn called out.  “You will need more than a name to reach her.  We have a password set.”

Stacie turned tail with one hand on her hip.  “And it is?”

“You might want to write this down, Stacie.”  He said with a hint of mockery.

Her other hand came up to the opposite hip.  “Try me.  I have an amazingly good memory.”

“Okay.  Fourteen, fourteen, nine, twenty-one, seventeen.”

Stacie stood frozen for a moment and then stepped back to the table.  She plunked down her handbag and rifled through it looking for something.

Quinn gave me a knowing wink and pulled a pen out from the folder enclosing the food bill.

She reluctantly but aggressively snatched the pen from him.  “Say it again, please.”

“Would you like me to recite it in French?”

She glared at him without a sound.

He smirked and then spoke slowly.  “1...4...1...4...9...2...1...1...7”

After Stacie wrote the numbers down on the palm of her hand she turned to Quinn.  “Does that mean something special to you?”

Quinn nodded.  “It is my name in numbers spelled backwards.”

Stacie closed her eyes for a moment and her lips mumbled through something silently.  I wondered if she was spelling out her a,b,c’s to see if he was truthful.  Suddenly her eyes popped open and she waved.  “I don’t have time to figure that one out.  Bye.  And please stay out of trouble.”

I waved back as she strutted out the front door.  I turned to Quinn.  “You just have those numbers figured out off the top of your head?”

“No, it’s the password to practically everything I own.”  He shook his head as if to dislodge something.  “I can’t believe I just told that to a perfect st ...”

He stopped himself from finishing his thought.  So I finished it for him.

“A perfect stranger?”

Quinn ducked his head in disgrace.  “Sorry, Cherie.  I-“

“Never mind.”  I said as I stood.  Quinn tried to stop me but he missed as I marched out the front door of the cafe.

As I let the warm air outside fill my lungs I tried to slow the emotions down that flooded my body.

Quinn showed up behind me after a minute.  “Please wait for me.  Do not go.  I need to go back in and retrieve my credit card.  Please do not go anywhere.”

He disappeared back in the restaurant only after I gave him a weak nod.

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Chapter five page three

Stacie’s frantic voice rang in my ears.  “I have been calling and calling.  Where did you go last night?  You better not still be with that man.  Where are you?  I am coming to you right now.”

“Stacie, I am fine.  Please relax a little.”

“Relax?  How can I relax when you were threatened by gun point in a bar, with a strange man and then you disappear?”

“Well, I am fine now.  I am still at the same hotel, but I am not registered under my own name.”

“You’re not registered ... what?”

“Just come to the hotel.  Stop at the front desk and tell them your name and they will direct you to me.  Now, what are you wearing?”

“Wearing?  Are you insane?”

“No.  I need to tell the front desk who you are and I thought it would help if I described what you were wearing.”

“Cathie, this is so far past normal.  You know that right?  I have to register my outfit with your hotel before they will tell me which room you are in?”

“Stacie, listen carefully to me.  And please do not freak out.”  I took a deep breath knowing this might be a mistake.  “Those men with guns came back last night and broke into my hotel room.  They didn’t hurt me.  They just gave me a message for Quinn.”

“You were in the room when they broke in?”

“Well, yes, sort of.”

“What do you mean sort of?”

“I was in the shower.”  Opps.  I shouldn’t have said that.

“Oh my goodness Cathie!  Are you alright?  Where was Quinn?”

Think before you speak now!  “How about you tell me what you are wearing?  Then I can let the hotel staff direct you to my suite.  We can talk more then.  Okay?”

“Your suite?”

“Stacie!”

“Oh yes.  Sorry I am wearing a chartreuse blouse with a Cerulean skort.”

“A what?  Never mind, I will tell them yellow and blue.”

“Yellow and blue does not even come close!”

“See you soon Stac.”  I hung up the phone and retreated to the bathroom to clean up.  I couldn’t help wondering what has happened to me.  I was the one who taught her all the true names of colours.  Now it seemed so irrelevant and time wasting. 

After washing my face I went in search of an outfit for the day.  That’s when I realized I had neglected another tell-tale Cathie quirk.  My clothes were still folded in my suitcase.  That must be a first for me.  Usually I rescue my clothes from the tight-cramped space of my suitcase before I even check out the room. 

  

Pulling out a creased cotton blouse and a pair of denim capris I noticed how off kilter my whole existence was here in France.  Almost like I had done more than cross an Ocean, I had crossed into a different dimension of reality.  The things that would have messed me up and spoiled my mood were now inconsequential.  

Even my dream of Mitch, though it was disturbing at the time, held no entangling magic over me.  I felt free.  I felt safe.  I felt certain I would hear from Quinn tonight.

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chapter five page two

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?”

“Bien, merci.”

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.

       Quinn

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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Chapter five page one

I was completely overcome with the view in the room.  Straight across from where we entered was like a large production stage with a long flowing curtain.  I assumed behind it was a wall of windows, covered from ceiling to floor with plush burgundy fabrics.  As the ambassador pulled each of them aside it revealed I was right.  As well as an amazing view of the Paris city line below us.  It was breathtaking.  I walked right up and stared over the view unable to grasp the reality of the moment.  We must be at the top floor.  That would mean this is the ... penthouse.

As the thought planted in my mind I looked from side to side of me.  The room seemed to go on forever.  To my right was a large sitting area with three couches.  Count them – one, two three.  At home in Canada, I have one couch and an interesting, lumpy love seat that no one wants to sit in for very long.  But here, in France, I have three couches in my hotel room!  This must be a dream.

Behind the sitting area was a large painting of the Eiffel tower lit up at night.  It was eye-catching and mesmerizing in its beauty.  To the right of that was an open doorway and then a mirrored bar.  It had two high bar stools up against a marbled counter filled with a magnificent display of glassware.  

Lining the mirrored walls behind the bar was a shelf of antique coloured glass bottles in many different shapes and sizes.  The burgundy colour of the window fabrics was continued throughout with the bar stools coverings and the hand towels on the bar.

When I turned to my left I saw another open doorway and a hallway leading away from the room we stood in.  There was a closet along the hallway and many more painted art works.  I turned to Quinn, who stood at the doorway with the Ambassador, seemingly unmoved by the grandeur of where we were.

I had to remind myself that this man lives in the most amazing City in perhaps the World.  He isn’t from some hick little town like me.   I need to assume that this isn’t out of the norm for him. 

When he finished with the hotel staff he closed the double doors and turned towards me.  His hands slid silently into his pockets and he looked me over very carefully.  I was frozen in my spot under his scrutiny.  Speechless.

Slowly he sauntered closer to me.  “We have a conversation to complete.”  His voice rumbled with a low sultry sound.  It made my head spin.

“Really?  What would that be about?”

“You.  And me.”  By now he was standing toe-to-toe with me.  His eyes glistened with flecks of gold that made my heart dance.  “Now tell me, when and where did we meet?”

“I-I, um, am not sure exactly.”  It was hard to decipher which made me panic more – his closeness or his probing questions.

“You’re not sure, Cherie?”

I shook my head back and forth.

Quinn placed his finger under my chin lifting my face to a better angle.  “I do not remember you when I look at you.  But, I feel like I know you when I get close to you.”  He paused long enough to bend down and kiss my lips ever so gently.  “It makes me wish I did know you Cherie.”

My lips tingled from his.  The feeling rippled through my whole body.  It nearly made me go weak until he let me go and walked away from me towards the door.

“You’ll be safe here tonight.”  His all business voice shocked me back into reality.  “The Ambassador assured me there would be a security guard arriving soon.”  He opened the door and looked out.  “Come, Cherie.”  He said as he waved me towards him.

I couldn’t move.  Now more than before, I was lost and confused.  Nothing made sense.

“Cathie?”  Quinn stepped out of view behind the closed side of the double doors and then returned a second later followed by a uniformed guard.  He spoke French to the man who kept nodding his head in response.  “This is Officer Clemens.  He will be posted outside your door all night.”

The man offered his hand to me but I was still stuck in my place.  I nodded to him but refused to move anything else.  I think Quinn noticed my hesitation because he walked towards me.  “Cathie, if you need anything he will help you.  He understands English.  He can call me ...”.

That was the moment I woke up.  Quinn said ‘he’.  The man we both just met can call Quinn but he never mentioned anything about me calling him.  Suddenly my reverie ended.  My legs moved as my heart closed off.

“Merci, Monsieur Clemens.  Je m’appelle Cathie.”

Both men looked surprised at my French but I didn’t care.  After a gentlemanly handshake the Officer returned to his post and Quinn closed the door behind him.  “What’s wrong Cherie?”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t call me that.”  Not really the truth, but a good decoy I hope.  “Nothing is wrong.  I am just feeling tired and jet-lagged.”

Quinn walked towards me and I backed up a step.  Understanding registered in his eyes.  He stopped approaching me.  “I need you to see this from my perspective.  I did not know you before tonight.  And since I met you, I-“.

I interrupted him again.  “You don’t have to explain.  I understand that you aren’t invested in this.”

“This?  What is ‘this’ exactly?”  He rubbed his eyes as if he was tired or frustrated.  Probably the latter.  “You didn’t let me finish my sentence.  Since I met you a few hours ago, your life has been threatened more than once.  I can’t stand that.”  He stepped closer slowly.  “I don’t live like this, Cher-uh, Cathie.  I am not some James Bond character in a movie.  I might not be able to protect you from Dean.”

“Maybe you don’t need to protect me.  Maybe, just maybe, I am here to protect you.”  I wanted to cry.  It would be so easy to let the tears flow hoping they would wash away the ache that was building.  But I can’t.  I won’t.

“You are like an Angel from heaven, aren’t you?”  Quinn said with a sexy smirk on his lips.

“This isn’t funny.”

“Non.  You are correct.  It is very serious and you are too involved.  Which, is why I must go.  Those guns were real and I don’t want you in any more danger.”

“Look, I agree – we should probably not get involved.  However those guns were for you.  Not me.  This room should be for your protection, not mine.”

“Don’t think for a second that Dean would not hurt you.”

“He won’t.”

“How do you know that?  Oh yes, I forgot.  You see visions.”  His mocking voice echoed in the room.  It bounced off the emptiness I was feeling.  How ludicrous this must all seem to him.  How much lenience would I offer to a crazy person spouting the future that suddenly entered my life?  None.  Quinn has been far more understanding and receptive than I would be if the tables were turned.

I offered my hand to him in a gesture of normalcy and decorum.  “Yes, well I haven’t seen anything new, so... it has been nice getting to know you Quinn.  Thank you for your help this evening.”

Quinn didn’t look like he bought my act, but he approached me with his hand extended to meet mine.  He gently took my hand in his, but instead of shaking it, he turned it over slightly and then raised it to his awaiting lips.  “En chante Cherie.  The pleasure has been all of mine.  I do hope I will have the honour of meeting up with you again under much better circumstances.”

He held my hand suspended at his mouth for a long second before his eyes met with mine.  “Please do not misunderstand my motivations.”  Then he released my hand and headed for the door.  Without any forewarning or hesitation he slipped out and let the double door close quietly behind him.

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Chapter four, page three

The bathroom door clicked shut before I allowed myself to breathe fully.  Then like a gate was opened the tears fell from my eyes.  The fear I should have felt in their presence finally arrived and I nearly lost all the strength in my legs.  Quinn’s arms slowly turned me into his chest and he held me, giving me all the strength I needed.

“Where did ...”.  Quinn started to speak but I shushed him.

I motioned for him to wait one minute.  I stepped out of the shower and wrapped up in a terry cloth robe from behind the door.  With caution I opened the bathroom door and stepped out for a quick look.  There was no sign of Dean or his men and the now battered hotel room door was closed again.

When I turned around Quinn was right behind me, looking rather gorgeous dripping wet.

“Cherie, uh ... I mean, Cathie, thank you.”  He pulled me to him again for another hug.

It was there in his arms that everything made sense.  I knew I had been here before.  I knew his touch and his mannerisms.  There was nothing unfamiliar about him to me.  How can that be?

Urgently I pushed away from his hold.  “Even Dean knew me.  Why don’t you know me?”

Quinn’s eyes moved with concern.  His hands dropped from my waist and he stepped back.  “I was going to mention that same thing.  Why does Dean know you?”

“I don’t care why he knows me I just can’t understand you.”

Quinn threw his arms up in the air.  “Understand me?”  The sudden anger in his voice filled my mind.  This isn't where I saw this conversation heading.

He turned around and headed for the bathroom.  When he returned he had a towel that he rubbed fiercely over his dirty-blonde hair.  He stepped towards me.  “This conversation is not over, but I have more important matters to attend to.  Go change into dry clothes.”

His voice was not angry, but it was not kind either.  I questioned my actions to see where I had upset him.  Dean’s suggestive manner did give the impression that we knew each other before.  And it didn’t really imply we were meeting for coffee dates.  However, I have no recollection of Dean in that way.  I only saw him in the pictures that filled my mind.  It was Quinn that was more than a picture.  He was very real to me in every sense.  It just doesn’t add up.

I found my suitcase by the door and grabbed a fresh set of clothes.  As I fixed myself up in the bathroom I couldn't hold at bay the fear that I had angered Quinn.  Yet, if he is telling the truth that he doesn’t know me, I shouldn't be surprised if he would want to get off this circus ride.  It didn’t feel real.  It was like the action movies Mitch would watch.  There were always too many guns and fights and not enough relationship in them for me.  That’s it ... I’m in my own bad version of a Hollywood Flick.

Suddenly I heard Quinn’s thick English accent roll off fluent French to someone.  It is enough to confuse even the clearest of minds.  I peeked out the bathroom door to see him standing across the room with his back to me dripping on the carpet while he talked on the room phone.  I could catch parts of his conversation, but there were several differences in the nuances of his French that I am accustomed to in Canada.

He spoke forcefully to the person on the other end of the line, but maintained a very calm and professional manner.  He was requesting a new room I think.  Pour sa sécurité.  For my safety.

Before long the room was swarming with hotel staff.  They checked out the broken door frame from being thrust open by Dean’s men.  Finally a very distinguished looking fellow approached Quinn, offering his hand to him.

“Bonjour, je suis Hans Fritzer.  I’m the hotel ambassador.  I would like to offer you a new room, compliments of the hotel.  Would you please follow me?  The bellman will bring your luggage.”

Quinn turned to me and offered his arm to me.  It was very debonair.  Of course I accepted without any hesitation.

Quinn chatted in French with the man all the way through the hallways and the elevator ride which seemed to last forever.  I paid little attention to them as I was so taken by the proximity to Quinn’s side.  His sleeve clung to his arm from the wetness but it didn't bother me.  He laid his hand atop of mine and gently stroked my fingers draping from his arm.  It consumed my concentration.

When the elevator finally reached the end of its travels we stepped out into a large atrium decorated with magnificent artwork and fine porcelain vases.  The opulence took my breath away.  

Quinn guided me along following the Ambassador towards a large Oak framed set of doors.  There was a uniformed man standing beside the doors who opened them inwards as soon as we reached him.  I overheard the Ambassador tell Quinn something about a security guard arriving within the hour.  Quinn squeezed my fingers and pressed my arm against his side.

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Chapter four, page two

Just then the bathroom door was thrust open with a large bang.  I spun around and pulled the shower curtain open enough to reveal my wet head and bare shoulders.

“Get out of here!”  I screamed as if I had no idea there would be men with guns standing in my hotel bathroom.

The pony-tail man stood aiming his gun at me.  He lowered it slightly as he took in what he probably assumed was a naked woman in a shower.  His eyebrows bobbed with his imagination.  “Someone wants to see you.”  He sputtered out in broken English.

The next voice that spoke did not come from our Pony-tail toting mobster.  It was a deeper voice; one that rang with elegance and sophistication.  “You are looking lovely as always, Cathie.” 

The pony-tail man stepped aside to allow Dean to enter the crowded bathroom.  Although in my mind I had seen Dean and I knew it was him, his appearance still caught me off guard.

He was a solid man with wide shoulders which seemed to be tightly packed inside a white silk shirt.  His dark eyes matched his almost black hair.  It was cut short but you could still see the tell tale signs of unruly curls.

“You have graced us with a visit again, Darling.”  His voice held many suggestive cues as he watched me with his penetrating eyes.

I felt naked.  I felt sick.  There must have been a sign as Quinn’s hand came and rested on my hip.  I was thankful he was there.

“I hadn’t included you on my itinerary.” 

Dean smiled a mischievous smirk.  “Well, we don’t always get what we want, now do we dear?”  Then he stepped closer.  “Unless you are me.  And what I want is your boyfriend.”  There was no joking in his voice or his eyes now.

I pretended to think for a second.  “Hmm, I’m afraid you will have to be more specific than that.”

“You know exactly who I am talking about.  The charming and devilishly handsome young man you entered the hotel lobby with tonight.  Besides, who else could I mean?  How many other men do you have stashed around here, my Dear?”

"Well, for starters I don’t have any men stashed around here.”  Oh, I hope that isn’t counted as a lie.  It is indirectly false.  After all, ‘stashed’ sounds more like hoarding something into a small tight hiding spot.  Quinn is almost in plain view.  Almost?

“Let’s not be coy, Darling.  You know what happens when I don’t get my way.  I want you to give your boyfriend a message from me.”  Dean began to speak out the message when I rudely cut him off.

“Sorry Dean.  I am not your personal secretary or his.”

Dean stepped right up to the shower curtain and every muscle in me tightened on high alert.  I felt Quinn’s hands squeeze tight around my waist as well.  It felt like he’d be prepared to remove me from my post if Dean reached out for the curtain.

“Cathie, Cathie.  You were always too bold for your own good.  Do not cross me Darling.  I prefer to keep our relationship fun and adventurous.  It would spoil my day if I had to teach you a lesson in manners.”  His eyes bore into mine with a deep passion.  However it wasn’t the kind a passion a woman would ever dream about.  It was a dark and twisted passion that revolved entirely around power and conquering.  At that moment, I hoped that I never had a past with this man as he did imply.

“Dean.  Say your message and then get out.  Though, I will not promise you that Quinn will get it.”

He didn’t move or speak.  He watched me with intensity.  Then his head bobbed very discreetly to the right.  Instantly Pony-tail man stepped into action walking towards me with his gun poised.  He came right to the side of Dean watching me over the barrel of his long hand gun.

I had never seen a real gun close up before.  You'd think it would fill me with fear.  I should have tossed the curtain back to reveal what they wanted to see in order to save my life.  But I didn’t.  I felt safe.  I felt secure.  Strangely I felt I knew exactly what I was doing.  I wasn’t going to die.  It was just an idle threat.

So I spoke with authority.  “Speak your message and then get out of my bathroom now.  And take your thugs with you.”

Dean and I stared at each other for a moment and then he released his henchmen with a slight nod of his head again and they all left the room.  At the doorway, Dean paused and turned to see me again.  His eyes softened slightly.  “Please tell Quinn to come find me.  Preferably before I find him.  On a nicer note, I hope I will see you again during your stay in our wonderful City.  Perhaps after this mess with Quinn is cleaned up, you will allow me to take you to dinner?”

Where he gets the audacity to ask me for a date, I do not know.   “Not likely”, was the nicest response I could think of.

He took one last seductive glance before turning to leave.  “Too bad, Darling.”

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Chapter four, page one

“Quinn!”  I shouted down the hall forgetting the late hour.  So then I lowered my voice to a loud whisper.  “Quinn, come here quickly.”

He bolted down the hall to the window where I stood.  By the time he reached me the men had disappeared from my view. 

“What is it?”  Quinn said.

I grabbed his wrist and pulled him quickly behind me to my hotel room door. 

“Tell me what is happening, Cathie.”

A heavy breath of worry escaped my lips before my words.  “Dean’s men are here.”  I fumbled for my room card-key.  “I saw them in the foyer.  Do you think they followed us?  You should hide.”  My rapid-fire responses came out with a fury.  My card would not register and my frustration grew.

Quinn’s hand covered mine to stop my frenzy and then he slowly slid the card out from my fingers.  Deftly he swiped the card and opened the door.

His slow movements were irritating me as I wanted to hide him quickly before the men saw him.  As I shoved on past him into the room, he grabbed my upper arm swinging me to a halt in front of him.

 “Cathie, you need to stop this.  I do not need a saviour.”

His words felt like a firm brick wall slammed into my face.  “Don’t say that!  Everyone needs a Saviour!”  I forced myself to calm down before I continued.  “Besides I am not your Saviour; I am your friend.”

Our eyes met and held each other for too long considering our newest dilemma.  However I was entranced.  There was love in his eyes; a glimmer of something like love anyway.  I couldn’t resist drinking it in.  The hint of gold in his topaz eyes seemed to dance and sparkle with hopeful yearning.  There was nowhere else I wanted to be at that moment.  That is until the ding of the elevator startled both of us.

Using my foot to close the hotel door behind us, I whispered for him to go hide in the bathroom.  He resisted me until the thump on the hotel door forced him into action.  As Quinn hurried off to the hotel bathroom I stole a moment to pray for God’s help.  As I closed my eyes a picture of Dean’s guys standing in the bathroom of my hotel waving a gun around filled my head.  Within the next second I found myself opening the bathroom door.

Quinn stood open-mouthed looking at me.  “What?”  He asked as the look of surprise washed over his white face.

I whispered loudly to him, “They are going to come in here.”  Pulling back the shower curtain with force, I motioned for him to get in.  When the idea finally registered he shook his head in protest.

“Non, non.  I will not put you in jeopardy to save my own skin.”  Quinn stepped towards the bathroom door.

I grabbed his arm just as the thump of the hotel room door being forced open reached us.

“Get in!”  I said.

He finally followed my direction and I crawled in after him.  Quickly I snapped the curtain closed around us.  I gave him a second’s notice before I pulled the water tap on to full and released the shower spray.

In order to play the scene well, I pulled my left arm through the neckline of my shirt.  Quinn couldn’t stay quiet any longer.  He grabbed for my last arm as I tried to pull it through.  “What are you doing?”  His voice was raised above a whisper to be heard over the pounding water of the shower.

“They are coming in here so I need to give you cover.  Don’t worry I am not fully undressing.”  I pushed my arm all the way through finally.  “Stand completely behind me.”  I turned to see his confused face.  “And no matter what they do or say, don’t let them know you are here.”

Quinn whirled me around to be face to face with him again.  The shower head had water tumbling down onto both of our shoulders which made errant drops of water bounce in every conceivable direction.  Through the crazy spray of water I saw determination building in his eyes.  His head shook from side to side with the tiniest of movements.

“I cannot let you put yourself in harm’s way for me.  It is not right.”  His voice sounded broken and I longed to heal it; to refresh him with my love.  

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Chapter three, page two

Quinn stepped back from the trunk like I had slapped him with a mighty force.  In fact, his face held much the same kind of expression as if I had.  His hands went up in mock surrender.

“Whoa.  I don’t know what is happening here but now it has gone too far.”  He continued to step back until he came up hard against the vehicle parked behind him.

“Quinn, listen.  Dean is coming and he plans on hurting you.  He won’t ...”

He stepped forward and interrupted my words with force.  “I want to know how you know all this!  Do you work for him, or something?”  All the decency and gentleness drained from his eyes as he demanded my answers.

“No” was all I could muster to say under his intense scrutiny.

He articulated each word with great force as he stepped into my space.  “How do you know he is coming here?  Or that he has a gun?  Or that he plans to hurt me?”

Just before any words could squeak their way out a red truck pulled up right beside us blocking any escape Quinn might have planned.  The truck came so close that even Stacie was unable to open her car door.  She squealed out the window demanding they move their truck.

“Well, well, well.  Look what we have here.  The Boss will be delighted to know that you both were waiting here patiently for us to arrive.”  The man’s voice was thick and taunting.  His long, black hair was pulled back into a tight pony-tail that hung slightly over his shoulder.  Quinn shuddered slightly as he turned to greet the man leaning from his pimped-up truck window.

“Evening, Mate” came Quinn’s strained welcome.  “We were just discussing Dean.  Is he with you?”

The man winked at Quinn and then pulled a small pistol up from his lap far enough that we could see.  “Dean was hoping you would join him tonight for a night cap.”  The sarcastic drip to his French voice sent shivers up my spine. 

Quinn must have sensed it because he instinctively pulled me close in behind him.  I leaned into his back and felt his strength and his courage roll over me like an ocean wave.

Quinn spoke in a hushed voice.  “Where would that be?”

“Once you and Cathie get into the truck then I will feel at liberty to share those details.”  Now his once smirking face morphed into a tight growl.  “So, get in!”

My mind was reeling.  How does he know my name when Quinn doesn’t?  ‘Lord I need help sorting all this out tonight.  Where are you?’

Then like a silent answer to my prayer came the words, ‘blue satchel’.  Immediately I dove into the trunk to retrieve it and was accosted by armed men that appeared out of the darkness like thieves.  Quinn jumped to protect me and was thumped on the back of the head with the butt of a gun.  I retreated with my hands in the air.

“Stop!  Wait!  I have a bag in the trunk for Dean.  It is blue.”  I gasped for a breath.  “It is the twenty-three Grand that Quinn still owes.”  Everybody froze in their position until the man at the truck window nodded for one of his men to grab the bag.

A tall, slender man on my right pushed me aside and retrieved the bag.  He cautiously opened the rope tied top and grinned from ear to ear as some money toppled out.  “Ohhh”, he said with a slight warble, “the Boss is going like this.”  Then he cinched it up tight and tossed it to the truck in one swift movement.

“Get in, Lovebirds!”  The pony-tailed man shouted and motioned towards the back door of the truck cab.

Quinn tightened everything and pulled me snug to his side again.  “No thanks, Mate.  Dean has his money now and I expect that means he'll be leaving me alone.  This isn’t a mob movie were in.”

My heart skipped a beat as the words rolled off his tongue without a hint of fear.  He has always been a gallant man.

Next I felt Quinn’s body pressed against mine as he took a step backwards, moving me along like his puppet.  He walked slow and precise until we were both on the sidewalk beside Stacie’s car.

He opened the door without taking his eyes off the man in the truck and then slid me into the car before he scooted in beside me.  Stacie’s car was still boxed in by the large red truck but Quinn directed her to start her engine anyway.  We all held our breath waiting for ‘Pony-tail’s’ next move.  Thankfully, the red truck revved loudly and sped off down the dark road.

There was a moment of stillness in the car until a small sniffle came from the front seat.  I reached over the seat back and hugged my sister to comfort her.

“Sorry”, she sniffled again, “I am really scared.”  Her sobs came stronger as her body rocked in my arms.

“It’s okay Stac, I’m really scared too.  Thank God no one was hurt.”  I fought back my own tears and turned my head slightly to be sure Quinn was still there.  He had been perfectly quiet since he crawled into the car behind me.  His eyes were misty and his face was ashen white.  Without a moment’s hesitation I released one of my arms from around Stacie and clasped Quinn’s hand in mine.

He turned his face away from me and stared out of the car window.  Finally Stacie started up the engine and slowly entered the flow of traffic away from the pub.  There wasn’t a single word spoken the whole way to my hotel.

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Chapter One Page three

With renewed vigour, I walked through the crowded hall towards the baggage claim.  I recognized my sister, Stacie from a long way off.  She had propped herself up against a trash bin.  Stacie’s petite frame was raised up on her tiptoes as her eyes scanned the hallway with intensity.  An image of her and her new husband decked out in their Sunday attire sitting on my living room couch flooded my thoughts.  Has it really been three years since I’ve seen her last?  That won’t win me the ‘best sister’ award.  Thankfully her gracious heart knows how much I love her.  Even though I am certain her quick tongue will take every opportunity to lash me over it.

She continued to search the people even though I was walking right towards her.  I gave a small and indiscreet wave but she was unmoved by it.  Her eyes darted from one weary traveller to another.

As I approached within a couple steps she still hadn’t made the connection.  “Stacie.”  I called out.

Her eyes popped in surprise as she zoomed in on me.  “Wha... Cathie?  What happened to you?”

“Happened?  Nothing.”  I said as my hand rose to smooth my dangling locks. 

It was a tossup which facial feature opened the widest – her eyes or her mouth?  She stuttered through an awkward hug.  “Wow.  Hi Sis.” 

When she released me she kept a few of my long curls in her hand still.  “Your... your hair is down?”

I released my hold on her.  “Yes, it is.  Do I look that bad?”

“No,” she said.  “You know I love your hair.  It never felt fair you got the Runway model hair and then shoved it mercilessly in a ponytail.  Me?  I got the stiff, straight, paper thin mess and have never had the smarts to put it in a ponytail.”  She giggled and then hugged me again.

I have missed her pointed, yet encouraging words.  For all the doubts I am toting around about why I am here, there is one loud and resounding answer.  Stacie.

Then I heard it again in my heart.  I have a plan for you.  I paused a moment to consider where it came from.  Stacie rambled on and on about her new job she started last week.  My ears heard her, yet my heart did not.

Is that you God?  Are you speaking to me?  I haven’t heard Your voice for years.  I thought  You left me the same time that Mitch did.   My head knew it didn’t make sense that God would abandon me, but I couldn’t feel his presence.  Only His silence.

Stacie nudged me hard in the ribs.  “You are tired then.  I don’t think you’ve heard a word I said.”  She laughed sweetly.  “Are you going to wait until that red suitcase makes a few laps before you grab it off the carousel?”

As she spoke I saw the back end of my suitcase travelling farther from me.  Thankfully it will return to me – unlike other things that I thought were mine.

I turned to Stacie and saw the concern dripping from her green eyes.  “I’m a little tired I guess, but I really was listening.”

“Yah?  What did I say?”  Stacie asked.

She always calls me on my attempts to be misleading.  “Um... you were telling me about your new job.”

“I will give you a half point for that one.  But if you weren’t the waking dead I would expect more details than that.”  She turned to her left and mumbled loud enough for me to hear.  “I think the guy on the bench knew that much about our conversation.”

After a minute or two without conversation I felt the nudge in my side again.  It jolted me to my senses.  “Hey!”  I said as I returned to inflict a painful retort to Stacie.  I saw my red suitcase as it rounded the corner and made its approach to me.

By the time I retrieved and readied my suitcase to roll through the airport, Stacie had begun her monologue again.  This time, I caught a few more words from her.  Hungry.  Long drive.  Neale is happy to see me.  

  

Stacie’s husband, Neale, is a native of France.  He is one of the gentlest giants I had ever met.  His voice is soft and his touch is even softer.  Behaviourally, he is not your typical French man. Physically, he represents that dark, strong figure that embraces the cover of many French romance novels.  He is perfect for Stacie, even if he hides her from sight when he wraps his arms around her.  There is one thing I have appreciated about him more than anything else.  It is his ability to temper Stacie’s bravado.

As Stacie and I stepped out the sliding doors of the De Gauille Airport I inhaled a surprising sense of freedom.  Somehow, the air that entered my lungs felt unlike any other breathe I could ever remember taking.  It was unmistakable how the smell of vehicle exhaust marbled with a surge of anticipation.

Maybe it was a good idea to come here. 

Suddenly the words of my bathroom buddy came back to me.  ‘You never know who God plans on you meeting.’  As the thought took root, I fluffed my hair one last time.

My sister and I strolled to the automobile parking lots, both smiling and looking forward to the next week.  Even if for different reasons.

Check out Chapter Two, page one here.

Chapter One Page Two

The coolness awakened my senses and allowed me to think coherently.  Yes, I remember now.  I am visiting my sister in France.  This is the first trip I’ve ventured out on in years.  Stacie had gently prodded me for years to stop hiding in my job and my home.  She says, now it is time to live again.  Is this what living feels like?

I reached for a paper towel to dry my face.  Burying my fear and insecurities in the towel, I dried away all the moisture.  Both the water drops and the teardrops.  As I hid behind my shield I confessed to God my desperate feelings.  ‘Lord, I need you more today than yesterday.  Or the day before.  Or the day before that.  This is more than I feel ready for.  I know You have a purpose for this trip and a purpose for me.  Will you please help me to see it?  Then Lord, help me to do it.  Use me somehow.’

“Are you alright Dear?”

Her rich English words startled me slightly.  I pulled the paper towel away from my face to see the older woman leaning near to me.  Her eyes were soft pools of grey caressed by her long eyelashes. 

“Sont vous d'accord?”  She spoke again.  This time she tried it in French.

I nodded.  “Yes.  Oui”

A twinkle set into her eyes that made all my anxieties fade.  “I thought you might speak English.  So I tried it first.”

“Yes, I speak English mostly.”  I tossed my towel into the receptacle under the counter.  “But I know French too.”  I wasn’t about to confess to her how it pained me to speak it these last few years.

She nudged my arm.  “Your magazine gave it away.” 

For a moment I did not know what she meant but then I remembered the Reader’s Digest tucked into the vinyl pocket of my travel bag.  I looked at the culprit wondering what else this woman could read about me at a glance.

“Don’t worry Dear.  It is alright to prefer one language over the other. As long as you don’t let your heart forget it. ” She winked a sweet Grandmotherly wink and I felt her reach into my soul.  It felt like she knew me – only I was sure she didn’t.

She reached into her purse and pulled out a long black comb.  She offered it to me.  “I am certain a young available woman like you can’t possibly be travelling alone.”  Her glance down at my hand tore through my chest like a scalpel.

'See God', I sneeredto myself.  'My bare finger is like a neon beacon for all to see.'  I kindly gestured ‘no thank you’ to her offer of a comb and then turned my face to the mirror.

I was a wreck.  Not that I had any reason to be anything else considering my last twenty-four hours.  My hand rushed to my hair and tried to organize the messy mass at the back of my head.

My new-found friend chuckled and offered a new item to save me from myself.  It was a tube of ruby red lipstick.  I tried to envision this proper English woman well into her seventies wearing that particular shade.

“You can’t catch a man looking like that my Dear."  She said with her delightful smile.  "Try this one.  It always worked for me.”  She exaggerated her wink.  "It is a fun, party colour."

How could I explain to her I wasn’t looking for a man?  Would she understand that my life was still trying to recover from the last one?  However, as I gazed at myself in the mirror I heard a gentle breeze of a whisper.  It spoke in a voice that resonated with familiarity to my heart.  I have a plan for you. 

As the words coated my tired and aching heart I felt renewed.  A surge of purpose covered me as I watched my tattered reflection.  Without another thought I released the elastic holding my unruly curls captive and let them tumble down my shoulders.

The woman to my right radiated with a smile of accomplishment.  “Now that is the way you do it Dear.”

I became immune to her penetrating eyes as I primped my hair bringing it back to life.

She nudged the lipstick back in my direction.  “Put this on for the handsome man you must have waiting for you outside.”

“Oh, no thank you.  I do appreciate your offer but it is not my colour.  Besides, I am only meeting my sister.”

For a moment her facial expression dropped as though she were devastated by the news.  Then she perked back up and began searching in her purse again.  “Well, you need something on those ghastly white lips.”  She responded with gusto.

I wasn’t about to shatter her perceptions of the world by confessing that I, personally have never owned a tube of lipstick. Not to mention the fact that other than my wedding day, I have never worn lipstick.  So I lied.  Sort of.

“My sister will have some I could borrow.”

She nodded her head in satisfaction and then we said our brief good-byes.  As I turned to go I felt her hand on my shoulder.  “Be ready for whatever the Good Lord sees fit to put in your path Dear.  You never know who He plans on you meeting.”

She winked a final goodbye and I felt certain she was still fixated on me having a man to drape off of.  However as I walked out of the restroom and turned down the corridor I wrestled with the nagging feeling that there was more to her words of wisdom.  It felt like she knew something that I didn’t.

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