Chapter fourteen, page one

Within minutes of pulling my curls into a coherent mass,  I heard the hotel door close.  With each heartbeat a footstep closed the distance between us.  When I opened the bathroom door my Prince Charming stood at the bedroom doorway leaning against its frame.  

This time when he saw me his eyes didn’t dance and swirl with desire.  I told my heart that was a good thing.  Only a soft, sweet smile altered his mouth that soon led a revolution all the way up to his eyes where a vibrant twinkle crept into his eyes.

“You look ‘magnifique’.”  He shook his head gently as he breathed in deep.  “May I escort you to a party tonight?”

“Yes.  I would like that.  Sorry if this wasn’t what you were hoping for.”  I indicated my ‘less than party’ outfit.

He held out his hand to me.  “I have to admit the emotions I feel now are nothing like the ones I had earlier.”

“Oh.”  I tried to hide the disappointment from my voice as I stared at his offered hand with trepidation.  I told my heart to be prepared for this.

Chapter thirteen, Page three

Minutes past.  Maybe lots of them.  There was no relevance of time as I sat on the edge of my hotel bed. 

Quinn had left and I needed to stumble to the bathroom and get ready for the dinner party.  Except, I didn’t want to go anymore. 

Even though Dean wouldn’t be there I still didn’t want to go. 

Thankfully a stronger part of me stepped forward.  Quinn needed my help.  The dinner party could possibly be the  key to unlocking this mystery.  Jane’s party was the first vision I had received for Quinn.  I stumbled into the moist bathroom with his masculine scent lingering in the air.

Hanging in the same spot where I had hung his new clothes earlier was a beautiful red party dress.  I closed my eyes allowing the emotions I felt wearing it earlier creep over me.  What do I do with these feelings God?  Am I allowed to have them?  I know Mitch is gone and he is never coming back.  I do know that.  Tell me please God ... are my feelings for Quinn real or are they planted so I will help him? 

Behind my closed eyelids, I felt heat flush my face.  Help him?  Have I helped him or have I made everything worse?

Chapter thirteen, page two

My feet found their way to the bed in front of me.  I sat as a motionless prisoner to the facts.  My words, my actions and my very presence seemed to make Quinn’s life worse.

 

Despite that, I could not deny that look in his eyes.  There was no misinterpreting his words on the hood of his car.  Or the smile he offered to me numerous times.  He didn’t want me to leave.

God if you put me in this situation than I am counting on you getting me out.  Was I going to break this man’s heart, or mine in six days when I leave for home?  I tried to imagine again that perfect smile disappearing from his face and a look of broken heartedness overtaking him.  Only I couldn’t.  Somehow even in our most precarious situations his smile had never gone far.  I had seen angry for sure, when he saw all his possessions destroyed.  I had seen compassion in him whenever he looked at me.  In fact, I had seen hope when he visited Anna.  However I had not seen him broken-hearted.   

Then without planting the thought there myself I saw a vision of him standing outside in his new clothes crying.  No ... weeping.

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 two

I stepped out of the change room wearing my capris and blouse which all seemed so drab after my previous options.  Quinn was back in his chair.  Only his relaxed, easy going posture was replaced with a man hunched over his lap holding his head.  He stood as soon as he heard me. 

“Cathie, please forgive me.”

“There is nothing for me to forgive you for.”  I said as I marched out passed him and headed for the mall entrance.

He grabbed onto me and swung me around again.  “Then what just happened?”

I closed my eyes tight, hoping to wish away the awkwardness.  “It’s me Quinn.  You did nothing wrong.  There are just some things I would rather avoid.”  Again, I wiggled out of his grasp and walked away.

By the time I was out of the store I realized he was not with me.  I turned to find him walking several paces behind me.

He held up his index finger to me, wordlessly asking for me to wait.  I nodded and he bolted back to the store counter.  The woman handed him a credit card and a slip of paper.  Suddenly it dawned on me that he had purchased something.  I felt fairly confident that it wasn’t the socks he had wanted earlier.

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 eight, page three

Quinn steered his vehicle into a parking lot on his left and I realized I hadn’t been paying attention to where we were going anymore.

The parking lot was large and very few open stalls.  Across the street towered a large building with old style character.  The sign out front was carved out of stone and etched the hotel name in fancy script.  A long cobblestone driveway graced the front of the beautifully crafted building.

“Um, Quinn?  We left one hotel just to visit another?”

“Non, Cherie.  We are only using this parking lot.  We still need to walk a little ways to our destination.  Are you alright with that?”  He parked the car in an open space and turned to face me.  “The parking is poor in this part of town.  This is the best place to leave the car. Ready?”

“Sure.  Although I don’t know where we are going.”

“I know.  Isn’t this fun?”  Quinn whipped around and out his car door.  So I followed his example.

As we started to walk, he reached for my hand.  “D’accord?”

“Yes.”  Sensing the warmth and tenderness of his hand enveloping mine felt perfect.

“Tell me something, Cherie.”

I nodded.

“Why does God always tell you what you should do next?”

“He doesn’t normally do that.”

“But He did.”  Quinn said.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Why did He do that then?”

I shrugged, offering my best guess.  “Because He can.”

“But He doesn’t usually?”

“No.”

"So how do you usually know what you should do next?"

"Sometimes you have to just try several different options.  Most of the time you will feel peace about one way and not another."

"But you have to fumble about with it?"

I half laughed.  "It does feel like that sometimes."

“And you still call him a loving God?”

Suddenly I felt crowded.  Casually, I managed to talk myself into a corner.  The walls of my doctrine started closing in around me.  How do I begin to answer his doubts?  “Yes, He is loving.  He guides us through things in many different ways but usually He is not as obvious as He has been lately.”

“So let me see if I get this.  God has a plan for you but He wants you to grope around for it?  But every once in awhile he shakes things up by throwing in a few visions?”

“No.  Not exactly.  God can speak to our hearts and direct us through our conscience.  But mostly believers use the Bible to judge what step is next.”

Even saying that felt weak.  I know what I believe about God; He is always there and He will never leave me or forsake me.  Yet, there are so many times in my life when I feel like I do have to guess what God wants from me.  Many people I know say they wish God would just speak out loud to them or leave a big flashing sign for them.  Or even send a vision of which step is next.  Either way this is one of the mysteries of God.  Why doesn’t He do those things?

“The best answer I can come up with, Quinn is that He wants our devotion.  He wants us to want to follow Him.  So instead of leading us through direct methods, He prefers that we seek Him personally.  It is like a friendship.  You don't sit down with someone you want to befriend and write out all their likes and dislikes.  Instead you discover truths about each other by spending time together and talking from your hearts.”  I watched Quinn for a moment as we walked hand in hand down the sidewalk.  He seemed unmoved.

“It is the concept of free-will.”  I continued.  “If everything was laid out for us we would be like robots moving along a pre-determined plan.  God doesn’t love robots.  He loves people.  So He has given us all the chance to choose to follow Him.  Does that make sense?”

“As clear as muddy water."

"Well, I don't know.  Then what would make it clearer?"

"Could you explain it with an example?”

“Do you mean an example of how He directs me?”

“Yes.  Tell me of one of the hardest things you’ve had to sort out lately and tell me how He helped you.”

I am certain the sidewalk tilted and the buildings warped at that moment.  Everything shifted in my head giving the sensation I was falling.  All I could think of was the deep dark pit I had spent months and years in after Mitch’s death.

Surely that experience would qualify for an example of the hardest thing I've had to sort out lately.  Only, it wouldn't suffice in explaining feeling God's help and guidance.  After Mitch's death I felt lost.  I still do really.  Time often stood still while I tried to figure out which foot to move.  Then once I had the foot patterns worked out it seemed a mystery which direction to head.

Naturally, I am not a fighter, so I decided it was easier to just stay home.  I could usually manage to find my way around my own floor plan no matter what condition I was in.  Besides, if there were days when I couldn't  - nobody saw me.

I remember, long after Mitch's passing, kind-hearted people would tell me I should feel blessed that God has given me a trial that He can use.  ‘Just think of how you can help others now’, they’d say. They tried to help me see a way to use the pain.  Only I didn't really want to help others deal with their grief.  I had enough of my own to handle.

In fact, how can I be qualified to help Quinn see that God leads us through our trials and our pains when I have felt lost inside a torrent of sorrow for three years?  If God did lead me through it, I was blinded to His hand.

My silence after his question must have made Quinn feel uncomfortable.  “I am sorry Cathie, if I have upset you.  You do not need to tell me anything.”  He squeezed my hand.

“It’s okay.  I just wish I had a better answer for you.  All I know is what I believe to be true about God.  He loves me and He has a plan for my life.  It is not His plan to hurt me or cause me pain.  However life is painful.  Life is just naturally filled with yucky things.”  I stopped walking momentarily and turned Quinn to see his expression.  “I would have pain in my life even if I didn’t have God.”

Slowly his head nodded.  “I see what you mean.  It is always nicer to have someone to help you shoulder your burdens though, isn’t it?”

Then Quinn steered me off the sidewalk up a few steps to a building with endless windows.  We entered the front doors briskly and straight through the lobby.  When we reached the elevator, Quinn turned to me.

“I want you to meet Anna.”

I had an inkling that was where we were headed when we entered the building.  There were folks walking in every different direction.  Some dressed in scrubs and lab coats, while others looked like patients.

The elevator door opened before I could answer him.  Once inside I asked, “are you sure she won’t mind?”

“Anna?  Not a chance.  She loves people.”  He turned to select the third floor button.  “Besides I have a strange feeling that she is going to adore you.”  He squeezed my hand.  The sensation ran the length of my arm right into my heart.

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Chapter eight, page two

We stood staring at each other in the elevator.  Obviously in my haste to close the doors on Quinn I had neglected to push the floor button.  So there we stayed, watching intently the tension melt away between us.

Then in a flash, Quinn extended his hand to me as if in a handshake.  Shielding the disappointment I felt over his choice of reconciliation I joined my hand with his.  Only he didn’t shake it.  He tipped my hand over and kissed it.  Then in a whirl, he turned me on my feet in a sway of rhythmic movement and somehow my hand ended up draped over his opposite arm again.  It was so fluid and precise I had no idea it happened until it was done.  He clicked the ‘ouvrir’ button and escorted me out of the elevator.  I was floating on a cloud.  It felt like I was walking off the stage in a Humphrey Bogart movie.

 “And your sister said you cannot dance.”  He said with a wink.

“I can’t.”  I added softly.

“So, Cherie, may I take you somewhere special this afternoon?”

“I- uh ...”

Quinn paused and faced me.  “Unless your quick departure to the elevator was a in fact an attempt to return to your room and not just a decoy to avoid facing me.” 

I am sure I blushed red again.  “Hmm, busted.  Sorry Quinn.  I would love to go somewhere special with you.”

He smiled big and bright.

As we drove through the streets of Paris, I couldn’t help soaking all the sights in.

“It sure is beautiful here.”  I said to the window that my nose was nearly pressed to.

“So what attractions and sights have you seen already?”  Quinn asked.

I thought for a moment.  “I’ve seen the airport, the hotel, a pub and a broken down bakery.”  I offered my best sympathetic smile.

“That’s it?”  Quinn reached over and touched my hand on my lap.  “Well, I intend to add to your list then.  I may even improve upon it.”

As his hand gently caressed mine I felt the desire to fill in some of his hurting places.  To offer him a balm that could heal his pain.  Although I did not know what it was, aside from Anna’s condition, he certainly alluded to a hidden reservoir of pain when he spoke of his Father.  It is not uncommon for people whose earthly father failed them to find it extremely difficult to love a heavenly Father.

“You know Quinn, we cannot know what God has willed and planned for our lives.  Or the lives of the people we love most.  But, ...”.

I paused.  How could I offer hope?  I wanted to more than anything else, but I lacked my own.  God had been silent in my life for years since Mitch’s passing.  I tried questioning Him.  I tried worshipping Him.  I even tried ignoring Him.  There was no response.  I don't believe God was ever really gone – just silent. 

“But, what?”  Quinn asked.

“But ... someone used to tell me something over and over again when I felt hopeless or confused about what God wanted to do in my life.  He would say,” I took a deep breath before reciting Mitch’s words.  “Nothing is impossible with God.”

We were stopped at a red light at the moment and I could feel Quinn’s prolonged gaze.  His eyes penetrated through my wall.  For the first time since I’d known him I wanted to hide from his eyes.  He could see through me and there were places inside me that I wasn’t ready to share with him.

His fingers glided effortlessly over my left hand.  He caressed my fingers one by one from knuckle to nail. When he reached my ring finger I could feel the unspoken question emerging beneath his touch.  Why is this finger bare?  Surely there is a man that loves this woman?

Now I know I am not a spinster yet.  However I am not a young vibrant woman facing a future that is bright either.  I am trapped somewhere between those two entities.  I’ve had my moment in the spotlight and I often wonder what happens now to a thirty-two year old widow that is childless?

Finally the scrutiny of his touch became unbearable and I pulled my hand away.

The light turned green and the car lurched forward.  Quinn spoke softly above the hum of the motor.  “Those are powerful words.  They must have come from someone you cared about.”

I could jump from the moving car I suppose.  I would likely be hurt but I would invariably survive.  But would I survive the pain of saying the words out loud?  My husband is dead.  No, I am not ready yet.

It is not a secret.  In fact I longed that Quinn knew already because then we could talk about it.  There is just something so gruelling about saying those four words out loud.  So I nodded my head instead.  Thankfully Quinn left the conversation there, hanging in the precipice between his seat and mine.

NEXT PAGE is here.

Chapter eight, page one

I heard Quinn’s slow approach to my side before he spoke. 

“Cherie, I am sorry I said that.  I am trying to see things from your perspective but it is hard sometimes.”

I asked, “Do you remember what you said to me in my hotel room last night?”

Quinn swivelled me around to be face to face with him.  “I said a few things.  Was it before or after I kissed you?”  His eyes twinkled with mischief.

I felt my cheeks warm from his reminder.  Then quickly I averted my eyes from his intensity.  “Right before.  You said you do not remember me by looking but you feel like you’ve known me.”

“I remember saying that.  It is the truth.  Yet, I cannot explain how or why.  Unless you consider an explanation such as reincarnation.”  He grabbed me around the waist pulling me to him for a hug, whispering in my ear.  “Perhaps we were star-crossed lovers in an earlier life.”

“Put me down, please.”  I said as I shoved against him.

“Sorry.”  He released me instantly.

I began to cross the street towards my hotel.

“Cathie?”  Quinn said before he took a step across the street as well.

“I don’t believe in reincarnation.” I said.

He quickened his step to keep in time with mine.  “What do you believe in then?”

I waited till I reached the curb before turning towards him.  “I believe with all my heart in a God who is all powerful and all knowing.  He not only has our todays and tomorrows figured out, He has an infinite number of creative ways to get our attention.  Including miracles.”

Quinn straightened up and a look I could not name covered his face.  It wasn’t exactly a smile.  It was more a curiosity marbled with disbelief.  “That’s actually sounds intriguing when you say it that way.”

“Well, He is.  You should try getting to know Him a little.”

Quinn shook his head with an anguished grin.  “So, why would God want to do a miracle for me?”

“Because He loves you.”

His hands shot up in surrender.  “Whoa.  That is precisely where your argument loses all its merit.”

“What does that mean?”

“You want me to believe that an all-powerful Deity cares about me and the pathetic little things in my puny life.”  He seemed to ignore my head nods.  “Those two qualities are mutually exclusive Cathie.”

“That’s not true, Quinn.  He really is both things at the same time.  He is a God who cares about even the number of hairs upon your head.”

Quinn instinctively ran his fingers through his hair.  His head shook from side to side.  It took a moment before he conjured up his response.  “You know what I think?  I think that’s a woman’s hope.”

“A what?”

“Women hope and long for relationships even where none exist.  Men, on the other hand choose to follow the logistics of something.”

All the feminism within me went onto high alert.  Even though my head instinctively cocked to one side, I tried to hide my shock and disgust over his comment.  “Really?”

Quinn nodded in agreement without hesitation.

So I walked away.

Quinn caught up to me as I entered the hotel doors.  “Look, Cathie.  What I mean is that it might be easier for you to believe that God would want to help me.  Maybe because of your own feelings for me, you are hoping it to be true.”

To slow every ounce of fury from bursting forth I took a deep breath.  However, the breath did little to deter my next response.  

“So, let me ask you this then.  Are my feelings for you real or are they just a symptom of being the weaker sex?”  That was enough for me.  I didn’t even need to hear his response to that.  I turned and power walked to the elevator.  Thankfully it was ready for me.  Once inside I frantically hit the ‘fermer’ button. 

He managed to sneak his hand in between the closing elevator doors before I could escape.  “Cherie, you are not playing fair.”  He stepped into the elevator and let the doors close behind him.  He stood in front of me studying my face.  “Can we start that over, please?”

“I don’t want to.  Let’s just drop it, okay.”

“Then let me close off this abomination of a conversation with this.  If God really cares about the things in my life and about me, then I can think of a much better way to spend a miracle than paying off Dean.”

It took me a moment to register his meaning, but the lights came on and I felt his frustration with God.  He wants a miracle to save Anna’s life – not his.

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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 seven, page two

Sitting at this little round table with Stacie’s probing questions and Quinn watching my every move I couldn’t help feeling nostalgic.  What if this was the beginning of a future with Quinn?

The waiter arrived at our table with menus.  Stacie whipped hers open in a flash.  “You’re paying right?”

“Stacie!  How rude.” 

Quinn patted my hand gently.  “It’s alright.”  Then he turned to face Stacie as she perused her options.  “I would be delighted to treat you to this lunch.”

“Good.  I only think it's fair.  After all, if I am going to be shot at because of you, then I’d like to be compensated.”

I wanted to be crawl under the table, but Quinn only smiled deeper at her.  “That is a great life’s mantra, I’d say.  I think I’ll adopt it too.”

After a slight giggle from Stacie she continued on with her interrogation.  “So, you’re a baker?”

“No.  I am a business man.  My sister is a bakery chef.”

“Right, the sister who is ill?”

I kicked Stacie under the table but it deterred her none.

“How ill is she?” 

“Why don’t you ask your sister some of these questions?”  Quinn said with a hint of cynicism.

It caught me off guard.  “I-I don’t know much.  I...”

Stacie leaned over the table towards Quinn.  “Look we both know she knows things but she doesn’t know things.  I mean, she doesn’t know things but she thinks she knows things.  You know what I mean.”

Quinn watched her closely.  His elbow sat perched on the table and his chin in his hand.  He rubbed at his cheeks as if he was really trying to make sense of her babbling.

“I think I know what you mean.”  He finally added.  “What should we do about that?”

Stacie straightened in her seat, crossing her arms across her chest.  “For starters, you need to come clean with us.”

“I do, do I?”

“Well, yes.  The way I see it, you’ve put my sister’s life in great jeopardy.  And I don’t know if you realize that starry look in her eyes or not, but I think she likes you.”

 I cleared my throat.  “Excuse me, I am sitting right here.  Don’t talk about me.  Talk to me, please.”

Quinn and Stacie remained unnerved by my interruption.  They never took their eyes off of each other.

“You think she likes me?”  Quinn said animatedly.

The showdown had begun and I was powerless to stop it.  Stacie leaned back towards the table again, resting her chin on her folded hands.  The two of them sat intently squared off.

“Born?”

“London.”

“Raised there?”

“No.  At the age of three my father moved us to the Bedfordshire area.  Remained there until I left home at sixteen.”

“That sounds young to leave home?”

“I’d have left years before if it wasn’t for Anna.”  Quinn let out a disappointed breath.  “She’s five years younger.”

“Parents?”

“My mum died when I was twelve.”

“Dad alive?”

“Don’t know.”

Stacie gave him a startled look.

“Don’t care, either.  Are we done yet?  I would like to order.”

“Me too.”  I said hoping to relieve the tension.

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Chapter six, page three

At one point, the guns paused from their rapid release of bullets.  Within that moment of silence we heard footsteps above us in the bakery.

“We should have gone out the back door when we had the chance.”  Quinn muttered aloud.

“Trust me Quinn.”  I said.  “This is the right place to hide.”

“I have no weapon down here.  If they find the trap door we are sitting ducks.”

“God will keep us safe.”  I said.

“God?”  Quinn’s sarcasm sent a tingle of concern running up my spine.

Obviously Stacie felt a similar reaction, as her head popped up from my lap.  “Yeah, what do you have against God?”

“Nothing.  Forget I said it.  I would just rather put my trust in the police.”

“Police!”  As soon as his words reached my ears another picture popped into my head.  It was a French police car with two Officers in it.  They were in a car accident with ... no, it can’t be.  They were in an accident with a hiked up red truck.

“What about the police?”  Quinn asked.

“They are on their way.”  I said.

“You called them?”  Stacie asked before Quinn could.

“No, they are coming for ... donuts, I think.”

Quinn chuckled.  “That would be Gregor and Jeneau.  They usually come in once or twice a week.  They come for the chocolate croissants, though, not the donuts.”  Quinn winked at me adding his wonderfully calming smile.

“Are you sure they will get here in time?”  Stacie asked.

“I see them getting into a collision with the red truck at the corner where we stood earlier, Stac.”

“An accident?”

“Yup!”

Within a matter of minutes we heard the footsteps leave and the red truck rev away.  Following that was the unmistakeable sound of squealing tires.

“That should keep Dean and the guys busy for a little while.  Ladies?”  Quinn motioned for us to follow him up the ladder and out into the bakery kitchen.

When we stepped out of the cupboard, we were overwhelmed with the sight of broken glass and shattered dishes everywhere we looked.  It was obvious the men had come all the way into the kitchen and had pulled things off of shelves and dumped out flour and sugar containers everywhere.  The air was thick with a white haze.  It was like a bag of flour blew up.

It didn’t take long for one of the Officers to enter the beat up Bakery.  Stacie and I stood by the back door while Quinn talked to him.  Quinn addressed him as Juneau.

Stacie was amazingly quiet watching Quinn and the Officer go through the bakery discussing the property damage and any possible missing items.  Her shoulders were slumped low and she had a dark, fearful expression on her face.

I had always seen my little sister as stronger than me.  She was more adventurous and seemed able to tackle anything thrown her way.  For years I had wished I could handle Mitch’s death the way I thought she would have, if she was me.  I never imagined anything would stop her.  Not that I didn’t think she wouldn’t mourn the loss of her husband.  No, it was more as if I imagined her able to get on with her life sooner.  She wouldn’t be hiding out in her little house three years after.

Now as I watch her cowering by the back door I am shocked.  I don’t knock her for it.  It is the opposite actually.  I respect her more because of it.  She seems more realistic to me now and I won’t hold her on that high pedestal anymore.

Quinn approached us and spoke to Stacie first.  Just as soon as he began to question how she was holding up, a picture came across my mind’s eye.  It looked like a small metal safe in a wall somewhere.  Inside the safe was a blue 5x9 envelope.  I couldn’t read the name on the front before Quinn nudged me.

“And you, Ma Cherie are you alright?”

I nodded.

“Good, then let’s get out of this mess and I shall take you both to lunch.”

“Finally, someone is talking my language.”  Stacie said as she flickered to life.  “What are we going to eat?”

Quinn winked at me secretly.  “I know this great place that chops all their meat up so tiny it is unrecognizable.  You just never know what you might be eating.  You’ll love it.”

It took a moment for Stacie to join our laughter.  But soon we were all feeling better as we loaded into Quinn’s black and shiny Passat parked behind the Bakery.

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Chapter six page one

Surprisingly, Stacie had decided she didn’t want all the nitty-gritty details from last night.  She would rather leave it all behind us. 

I was completely honest with her though, when she asked me if I knew where he was or how to contact him. I said no.  In fact, it seemed to give her a sense of relief to believe that Quinn was gone and that he would not be back.  Now we could just concentrate on each other and enjoy our day as sisters on vacation.  I figured it wasn’t fair for me to be the only one living in a dream world.  So we ate my breakfast together and prepared to leave the hotel.

“I thought we should take a trip over to see the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower and then stop for lunch at a little bistro I know near the River.”  Stacie said.

“Sounds nice, but I was really hoping to walk.  Is there anything worth seeing in close proximity?”

“Walk?”

“Yes, it is beautiful outside today and I feel like I want to experience the essence of Paris, not just the tourist traps.”

“I hardly think the Eiffel Tower is a tourist trap.  But I suppose we could walk today.  Tomorrow is supposed to be cloudy so we’ll drive then.  Sound good?”

“Perfect.”  I said.

So we headed off out the front doors of the hotel to gallivant through the streets of Paris.

There were many quaint little shops we visited.  Laughter and teasing fun filled our morning perfectly.  Although Quinn was never far from my mind, we did not discuss him or the events of last night at all.  It was almost like they never happened.

Eventually the rumble in our tummies signalled it was time to find a place to eat.  Stacie recommended a little cafe she knew a few blocks north of us.  As we walked, the streets began to change their look.  The buildings were not as touristy and fancy.  They had an old-style charm as everything turned aged and rustic. 

We began to cross the street at a quiet corner when I was suddenly bombarded by an image.  It was a street just like this one and Dean’s thugs were racing down the street in their red truck.  As it neared me in the image I saw Dean sitting in the passenger seat.  Then I saw Quinn’s face in a shop window with red and white checked curtains above him.  The truck stopped.  Next the men pulled out their weapons and began firing bullets into the checked windows of the shop. 

All this time, Stacie had been rambling on about something before I stopped in my spot.  She finally realized I wasn’t beside her and came back to me.  I stood motionless in the center of the crosswalk. 

“What are you doing Cathie?”

I held my hand up to quiet her while I let the image play out fully.

“Are you crazy?  You are standing in the middle of the street.”

“Stop talking for a minute Stacie.”

“I’ll only stop talking if you start walking.”

“I am seeing Dean and his red truck again.  He is after Quinn.”

“Where?”  She asked as she looked down the quiet street.

“I’m not sure but on a street like this.  It’s in my head.”

Stacie grabbed my wrist and tried to pull me off the street.  “You aren’t going to stand here until they show up, are you?”

“I don’t know what I am going to do.  Just let me think.”

“While you are thinking, you should pray that Quinn is far from here.  Because then the red truck won’t come here and shoot at us.”

“No.  I will pray that he is safe somewhere that we can find him to warn him.” 

Stacie spun around in disgust.  With a stomp of her foot, she raised her voice.  “Cathie, this is absurd.  This guy is not someone you should be hoping to see again.  What if when you find him, he kidnaps you and dismembers you and then scatters all your body parts around the French countryside.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.  Quinn wouldn’t hurt me.”

“How do you know that?  Do you see that in one of your crazy visions?”  Her loud voice was sure to draw some attention.  I looked around to see if I was right and there behind me two doors down the block was Quinn standing on the step in front of a glass door.  He was wearing a smile and a white apron.

Grabbing onto Stacie's arm, I began to run towards him.  As we got closer I could see smudges of flour on his cheeks and a dab on his chin.  “Do you work here?”

His smile tightened.  “Well, yes I guess I do.”

“Well, may I suggest you go ask for the afternoon off because Dean is on his way.”

“Or so she thinks.”  Stacie said.

Quinn gave her a friendly smile even if she didn’t deserve it.  I wondered if he had heard her dismembering comment earlier.  He motioned for us to enter the establishment and then he locked the door behind us and flipped the ‘ouvrir’ sign.

“Shouldn’t you ask the owner?”  Stacie said with disgust. 

“I am the proprietor.  Well half way anyway.”  Quinn turned to me.  “It is Anna’s shop I bought for her, but since she is unable to work anymore I am learning to make scones and donuts, of all things.”

It touched my heart.  His compassion runs deep.  I had seen signs of it all along and now it was truly evident.  

NEXT PAGE is here.

Re-evaluation Time

Tomorrow the last page in chapter five will be posted.  I hope you are enjoying the adventure Cathie and Quinn are on.  I am having fun taking their images from my head to the page.  I know there is some areas that need revision and rewording to make everything flow easier.  However the story is coming together quite well.

I have noticed though that my story may end up quite short. There is a rather arbitrary number floating around the publishing world.  "They" say a typical novel shouldn't be less than 80,000 words.  This is especially true for first time authors.

So, based on my calculations for this novel I might not make it to 80 thousand words.  After the post tomorrow (chapter five, page three), I will have produced about 13,900 words.  I am figuring that this point of the story is a little less than one third of the way to the finish.  Which will put the novel at about at barely 50,000 words.

If I was writing this on my laptop for my eyes only, I wouldn't panic.  I would write what I have in my head and then let my imagination kick in when I do my first re-write.  Typically, when an author enters the revision stage you are looking to reduce your novel.  To condense it, making it more palpable to the reader. This is one of the keys to being a best-selling author taught by none other than Stephan King.  However I will have to put that concept into reverse and try to add more scenes, more background information and more action.

However, because this novel is shared with many eyes, I am putting out a request to you the reader.  If there are times when you read that you wish you had more information, let me know. Or perhaps you just felt cheated a little with the briefness of a scene, I invite you to share it.

Now, I have to say there are some very obvious places that the reader must be kept a little in the dark.  That adds to the suspense and the anticipation.  I am not going to let the cat out of the bag too soon.  There are other places though that I as the author "know" the background of a scene but may have neglected to share it you the reader.  These are the best places to increase word counts.

I would love to hear from you any places you wanted more.  That can apply to past chapters and all the ones to come in the future. Become an active participant in my story.

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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