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.

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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 seven, page one

Quinn’s car was neat and tidy.  There was a single picture tucked under the corner of his visor.  I recognized the young lady he was hugging right away.  It was Anna.

“Quinn,” I asked cautiously.  “How is Anna doing?”

The smile left his lips immediately and he kept his eyes straight ahead of him.  “I keep forgetting you know about her.”

“I don’t know if I‘ve ever meet her though.”  I said.

Stacie sat quietly in the back seat as Quinn began to talk about his sister’s health.  “She has stopped responding to the treatments and medications.”  He said.

Then he paused for a moment and let a large lump slide down his throat.  “The Doctor’s say she is still relatively strong considering but that without the treatments working we have little to hope for."

Stacie piped up from the back seat.  “Don’t say that.  There is always hope.”

Quinn nodded graciously but he did not respond.  His eyes tightened and I imagined him trying to shrug off her words before they melted into his heart.  Lord, there is always hope.  Please allow Quinn room in his heart to feel it and embrace it.

Quinn had chosen a small eatery across the street from my hotel.  It was a sweet gesture considering it was after one o’clock.  Stacie had to be at work by three. 

The restaurant had a very quaint, French appeal to it.  The aroma that filled our senses as the door came open was glorious.  My stomach began to covet immediately.  Quinn pulled out a chair for Stacie and then me before he sat down.  He’s very good with my sister.  He seemed to know how to soften her and win her over slowly. 

Stacie has always been very protective of me even though she is three years younger.  In fact, if my memory is worth anything I can almost picture the first time she met Mitch.  It was very much like our lunch today.

It was in the food court of the University I attended in Montreal.  It was particularly busy at lunch in there and that day I needed to find two seats.  Stacie had come along with me for the day to see what college life was like.  She was in her senior year of high school and really could not decide whether to study at home or abroad.  So, this day, she was my shadow.

We had walked the perimeter of the tables twice and still had not located two seats together, until a dark haired young man stood and waved to us.

Stacie nudged me with her elbow.  “Is he waving at us?”  We both did an about face to see who was around us and then back at him.  He was now pointing towards us with two fingers.  Carefully without tipping my food tray all over me, I pointed to myself inquisitively.

His rumbled hair fell over his eyes as he emphatically nodded yes.  He pointed down to his table that had two empty seats now.  Stacie began to march over to him before I had decided what to do about the situation.

She spoke forcefully to him demanding answers as to why he was motioning to us.

Cautiously he spoke.  “I am nearly done my lunch and I thought you might want my table.”

“Yes.”  Stacie said confidently.  “But that is all we want.”

The man seemed unnerved by Stacie’s abruptness and he turned his dark, enchanting eyes on me.  We all sat together for about ten minutes talking about all kinds of things.  Stacie would often answer the questions he directed to me but he didn’t seem to care. 

Just before he excused himself, he reached his hand over to me and introduced himself as Mitch.  Then he rose with his tray and trash.

“By the way,” he said.  “I eat here every Tuesday and Thursday at this time if you ever need another table to sit at.”  With that spoken, he winked and walked away.

With her mouth full of food, Stacie leaned over to me and spoke.  “That was a lame pick-up line.  With practice, he might find a nice girl someday.”

Without her consent, I realized he had.  That was the beginning of my courtship with Mitch, as we met for lunch every Tuesday and Thursday from that day on.

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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 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 Three, page three

As Stacie pulled alongside the curb in front of my hotel Quinn finally released my hand.  He climbed out of his door before I had my seatbelt undone.  I reached over the seat, hugging Stacie again from behind and told her to call me in the morning.  

She gave me a worrisome look through the rear-view mirror. “Please tell me he is not staying overnight with you.”  Her eyes begged for my answer to please her.

“He’s not staying with me tonight.  I love you, Stacie.  Have a safe drive and a good sleep tonight.”  I kissed her cheek and winked at her in the mirror before crawling out of the back car door.  

In my mind I wondered what would happen next with Quinn.  He bolted extremely fast from Stacie’s car.  It was unlikely he was still around.  I’d seen in his eyes his interpretation of me - a crazy woman who just wouldn’t leave him alone.  It broke my heart, because I was certain before tonight his eyes held love for me.

Nothing about tonight made any sense – from Quinn not recognizing me all the way to the money in Stacie’s trunk to pay off the local Mob.  ‘Lord, there must be something that makes sense to You in all this.  I am trusting that You are in control amidst my chaos.’

Fetching my suitcases from her trunk, I headed into the Hotel lobby with my head hung low.  Somehow this day needs to come to an end with tomorrow having fresh new mercies.  ‘Please God.’  That is a prayer that has graced my lips many times over the last three years.

As I pressed the elevator button I felt a hand come around my waist.  I spun around right into his full embrace.  “I am so sorry Cherie.  I never meant to put you any danger.”  He squeezed me so tight before he pushed me back to see my face.  “Will Stacie be alright?”  His eyes glinted with a hint of fear and remorse wrapped tightly in compassion.

“She’ll be fine.  That’s if I can stop freaking her out.”  There was no doubt that tonight I stand alone in my version of reality.  Hopefully this universe will right itself by the morning’s dawn.

Quinn stood peering into my eyes searching into the depths of my soul.  “Cherie, where did you get that money from?”  His voice held no accusation.

“Quinn, I wish I had an answer for you.  Or at least one that made any sense.”  I could see his disappointment in my answer.  “Do you believe in God, Quinn?”

He flinched and released me fully from his grasp.  “Uh?  Let’s just say that he and I don’t see eye to eye.”  He stepped back away from me again. I watched his eyes tighten and the hard line of his jaw stiffen.

“But, I take it you believe in him?”  His accent took on a new brusque tone.  I didn’t like the sound of it at all.

“Well, as a matter of fact God is very important to me and He guides everything I do.”  My response caused even more discomfort than my original question had.  Quinn may have walked away from me if a family hadn’t arrived right behind him in line for the elevator. 

He closed the gap between us, placed his hand on the small of my back and whispered in my ear.  “Perhaps we could finish this conversation somewhere else?”  As his soft voice reached my ear it sent a tingle down my spine. Only to be met halfway by the tingle climbing up my back from where his touch was.  How odd it is, the comfortable level he has around me, yet he cannot remember me from before tonight.

The elevator door opened and just force of nature we entered without much thought.  As we traveled up the flights, my internal sensor began to alarm.  Although he had not been inappropriate to me in any shape or form, it appeared to me that he was planning on coming to my hotel room.  ‘Lord, give me the right words to say so that I do not make a horrible mistake with this man.’

Our floor arrived before the people standing in front of us, so we squeezed our way through them and out onto the third floor.  My room was at the farthest end from the elevator which gave me more reason for concern.  My hesitation at the elevator must have clued Quinn into my thoughts.

“Cherie, perhaps it is best for me to bid you good night.  Will you be alright?”  His eyes bled kindness into his words and again made my heart shiver.

I stumbled through my fast-paced heartbeat.  “Y-yes.  Sure I will.”

“Well then, you head off to your room and I will wait here for you to get in safely.”  He winked and gave me a small shove.  “Bonne Soir.  And thank you for everything Cherie.  I will try to ....”

“It’s Cathie.”  My voice sounded whimsical and lost in some romantic fairy tale.

A most delicate smile tipped the edges of his mouth all the way to his topaz eyes.  “I do know your name and I am sorry for not using it.  ‘Cherie’ is a term similar to ‘darling’.”  His eyes fell to the floor as a soft pink blush filled his cheeks.  “I will try not to be so personal, Cathie.”

The sound of my name sugared with his perfect tenor accent made my knees go weak.  ‘Lord, I don’t understand the effect he has over me.  There is no way a stranger can do this to my heart.  I am certain this is not our first encounter.  Lord, please help Quinn remember me.  Please Lord.  I am afraid my heart cannot take losing another man.”

Then with a deep sigh I turned to head down the hall towards my room.  Halfway down the hall I couldn’t resist turning to see if he was still there.  Amazingly, he stood like a sentinel at the elevator doors; my protector.  Thoughts of my evening with Quinn flooded my mind as I resumed my walk down the hall. 

However my eyes caught a glimpse through a set of atrium windows that overlooked the lobby below.  A group of three men were entering the main doors led by the pony-tail man from the pub earlier.  

NEXT CHAPTER starts here.