Dancing with Paris (A Paris Time Travel Romance)

by Juliette Sobanet

  Back in the hospital bed, with the beeping ever steady in my ear, I shook my head. That couldn’t be right. My dad hadn’t been alive when I moved into college…but when I tried to recall the memory that was buried somewhere deep in my subconscious, the one where he’d died, the one where I’d failed to save him, I couldn’t.

  It was gone.

  And when I opened my eyes, there, standing at the foot of my hospital bed, was my father.

  “Dad,” I called out to him, barely believing the words coming out of my own mouth.

  “Claudia,” he said, rounding the bed and taking my hand in his. “You are the only woman I know who can still look beautiful lying in a hospital bed.” Then he winked over at my grandma. “No offense, Martine.”

  She giggled softly as she left us alone in the hospital room.

  “Dad, I can’t believe it’s you,” I said as more warm tears spilled down my cheeks. I didn’t want to cry again, but I couldn’t possibly hold them back. “You’re really here, Dad. You’re really here.”

  He chuckled as he wiped the tears from my eyes. “Don’t cry, honey. Of course I’m here. Where else do you think I’d be?” He leaned down and held me tightly in his warm embrace. I breathed in the scent of his cologne, felt the strength of his arms around me. How many days had I longed to see him again, to hug him, to hear his deep, happy voice.

  My dad was really alive. But how? How had things happened so differently this time?

  Once I caught my breath, my dad pulled up a chair and held my hand.

  “Honey, why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.

  “Dad, are you…are you a politician?”

  A hearty laugh erupted from his lips. “You really did bop your head pretty hard, didn’t you, honey?”

  “So you’re not a politician?”

  My dad shook his head, a flare of curiosity passing through his ocean-blue gaze.

  “What is it, Dad?”

  “It’s just funny that you would ask that, sweetie. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, but when I was really young, that’s all I dreamed about. With my dad and my grandfather being in politics their whole lives, I wanted to follow in their footsteps, but I was determined to go higher. I even had dreams of becoming the president one day. Then when I was really little, maybe about ten or eleven years old, something changed my mind.”

  My heart sped up. “What was it?”

  My dad hesitated, searching my eyes, before finally reaching into his pocket and pulling out his wallet. But before he unfolded the brown leather, he glanced back up at me. “I’ve never shown this to your mother…she gets spooked about this kind of stuff. So let’s just keep this between us, okay?” He winked as he dug to the back of his wallet and removed a worn, faded postcard, folded into four squares. He unfolded it before handing it over to me.

  A stunning black-and-white photograph of the Eiffel Tower stared back at me. My hands shook as I remembered this postcard. I remembered holding it in Ruby’s beautiful hands.

  I turned it over and gasped as her handwriting—my handwriting—filled up the postcard.

  December 6, 1959

  Bonjour from Paris, Anthony! My name is Ruby Kerrigan, and I’m an old family friend. I wanted to tell you that I’ve heard what a smart young man you are becoming. I’ve heard that you’re thinking of following in your dad’s footsteps and becoming a politician one day. That’s a big dream, Anthony, and your father knows that if anyone can make it happen, you can.

  But that’s the thing about dreams, sometimes all it takes is knowing that your family believes in you to make you realize that the dream you once had as a little boy may not be your destiny.

  Remember this always:

  Your destiny is yours to create.

  Know that your parents will love you and support you no matter what path you choose.

  And one day, when you’re older, I’ll make the trip from Paris to meet this boy I’ve been hearing so much about. You can count on it.

  From Paris with love,

  Ruby

  My dad wiped another tear from my cheek. “The funny thing was, Claudia, the day that postcard arrived in the mail, my parents said they didn’t know anyone named Ruby. And they didn’t know anyone living in Paris. But after my parents read the words this mystery woman had written to me, they sat me down and told me that what Ruby had said was true. That my destiny was mine to create. That I didn’t need to follow in my father’s footsteps for them to be proud of me. They said they loved me just the way I was, and that they knew I would accomplish amazing things when I grew up. So over the next several years, I asked my dad tons of questions about his career. And by the time I was heading off to college, I knew that the life of a politician wasn’t for me.”

  “So what did you decide to do?”

  Concern swept over his face. “Claudia, honey, you really don’t remember what I do?”

  I rubbed my head and closed my eyes, willing the rest of my memories to come into focus. The slideshow that had begun earlier picked up again, and as it sped along, it replaced the void where the old memories had been and took with it the longing I’d felt my whole life for a real family who loved and cared for each other, for a mother who loved me unconditionally, and a father who hadn’t been taken from us unfairly.

  My second chance at Ruby’s life had given me a second chance as Claudia—a chance at a happy, functional family. I’d done this. I’d changed my destiny, and that of my entire family, and fate had rewarded me by bringing me here to this moment. To this incredible reunion with my dad.

  Opening my eyes, I smiled warmly over at my father. “You’re a professor. A political science professor here in San Diego.”

  He laughed. “There’s my girl. I told your mother a little bump on the head was no match for my Claudia. Except there is one thing you don’t seem to remember.”

  “What is it, Dad?”

  “We’re not in San Diego right now, dear. We’re up in LA for the weekend.”

  “What are we doing here?”

  My dad glanced over his shoulder and stood up as a knowing grin spread over his handsome face. “Why don’t I let your husband refresh your memory?”

  “My husband?” I said, barely believing my ears. I glanced down at my left hand, and there on my ring finger was a gorgeous diamond shimmering in the dim hospital light. When I closed my eyes, I could picture a man placing that ring on my finger, but before I could make out his face in my memory, a voice called my name.

  I flicked my gaze just past my father, and there, to my astonishment, stood a handsome vision of a man in a tux.

  Except this wasn’t a vision.

  With his jet-black, wavy hair and rugged five o’clock shadow, he was as real as the baby kicking away in my belly.

  It was Édouard.

  He rushed toward me, the relief in his charcoal-gray eyes palpable. Reaching for my hands, he leaned over and showered my forehead and my cheeks with warm, sweet kisses.

  And as he sat down at my bedside and smiled at me, that same disarming smile I remembered from our night at the dance studio, that last, missing puzzle piece finally came into view.

  “This is our baby?” I asked him.

  His hearty, warm laugh filled up the room. “Yes, Claudia. She’s ours. And you’re awake. God, I’m so happy you’re awake. And I just spoke with the doctors. They said the baby is doing fine.” As he squeezed my hands in his, I noticed my dad quietly slipping out of the room, leaving us alone.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “I was a little confused when I first woke up…” I trailed off as I gazed into Édouard’s eyes, feeling a sudden bliss wash over me while the last flood of new memories set in.

  I remembered Édouard standing underneath a white archway in a loose, white collared shirt, his dark hair blowing in the breeze, the fiery orange sun setting over the ocean behind him. I held on to my father’s arm and walked down the sandy aisle past familiar, smiling faces as my
flowing white gown gathered at my bare feet. As I reached Édouard and took his outstretched hand, I gazed into his handsome gray eyes and felt an overwhelming sense of love, of compassion, of protection emanating from them. It was a feeling I’d felt before. As Ruby.

  I blinked away the happy memory and focused in on those same eyes that held my gaze back in the hospital room, and I realized I knew those eyes. Those loving, warm gray eyes.

  They belonged to Antoine.

  Was it possible? When Antoine and Ruby had set off into the sunset, had Antoine traveled to this life as Édouard? Just so we could be together again?

  “Are you still feeling confused, love?” Édouard asked, his deep, strong voice pulling me from my new memories, my old ones, and the biggest question of all.

  I searched his eyes for the answer, and as their warmth penetrated my heart, my soul, my experience between these two lives, just as Madame Bouchard had told me I would, I simply knew.

  I knew the answer.

  “It’s you,” I said, breathless and relieved, the smile on my face growing as I realized that my soul mate had traveled with me, that we’d found each other in this life, that we’d never again be apart.

  “Were you expecting someone else?” he asked, a playful twinkle in his eye.

  “You are the one I was waiting for, Édouard. You are the one I was hoping would be here.”

  He leaned forward and brushed his hand along the edge of my face, sending those familiar tingles skittering and dancing through my body. The same tingles that only Édouard and Antoine could give me. My soul mate from two lives, wrapped into this one body, this one love who now sat by my side.

  Édouard was my husband. This baby was ours. Everything had changed. And when I’d gone back to relive that patch of my life as Ruby, I’d changed it all.

  But when a flash of wavy black hair and silvery-black eyes entered my mind, my tingles turned to chills.

  “Claudia, what’s the matter? You’re looking a little pale all of a sudden. Are you feeling okay?”

  “What happened to Solange?” I asked him.

  Édouard stifled a laugh. “The cat is fine, Claudia. We fed her before making the trip up to LA this morning. And the neighbors are watching her while we’re away.”

  “The cat?”

  “Yes, Claudia. Our cat, Solange. I thought it was strange to give a cat that name, but you insisted.”

  “So you were never engaged before me? To a woman named Solange?”

  “Are you sure you’re okay, Claudia?”

  “Just answer me, Édouard.”

  “No, love. I was never engaged before you. I don’t know anyone named Solange—anyone apart from that annoying black cat of ours, who you love to death.”

  I let out the breath I’d been holding, relief flooding through me. With that bullet, I’d ended Solange. I’d ended her evil soul, and now, she was only…a cat.

  But, just in case…“Édouard?”

  “Yes, Claudia?”

  “I don’t know how safe it is to have a cat around a newborn. Maybe we should consider asking my parents to take her for a little while…the cat, that is.”

  Édouard laughed. “Whatever you want, love. Solange has been a little hostile lately.”

  “And by the way, what are we all doing in Los Angeles? And why am I in this dress? And you in a tux?”

  “It’s for the film premiere, don’t you remember? When you were getting ready earlier in the hotel room, you tripped on those red sparkly heels you always insist on wearing, and you hit your head as you fell. You passed out and gave us all a bad scare, so that’s why we’re here.”

  “My red sparkly heels, are they here?”

  He chuckled. “You’re not going to give up on those, no matter how pregnant you get, are you?” He leaned below the bed and emerged holding the sparkling, strappy red heels. The shoes I’d danced so many dances in.

  As I turned the beautiful heels over in my hands, admiring their grace, their pizzazz, and their beauty, I knew there was one more event these shoes needed to attend.

  “What time is the film premiere?” I asked Édouard.

  “Claudia, you can’t possibly be feeling—”

  In one swift movement, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and planted my lips on Édouard’s. If I’d doubted it at all before, his passionate, sweet kiss was the final proof.

  Édouard was my love, my Antoine, my soul mate.

  As our lips parted, Édouard traced the outline of my face with his finger. “Wow. Maybe you should bump your head and pass out more often.”

  I nudged him. “Help me put these heels back on and take me to the red carpet.”

  An hour later, Édouard and I were cozied up in the back of a crowded limo, our families dressed to the nines, clinking their bubbly glasses of champagne and prepping to make their very first appearance on the red carpet.

  Apparently this wasn’t the first time I’d accompanied Édouard to one of these glitzy events, but it was the first time I was a guest of honor.

  Because this time around, in my new, corrected course of fate, I wasn’t a therapist anymore. I was a dance teacher, and most recently, I’d become the screenwriter for Édouard’s film directing debut.

  “How ever did you think of the idea for this movie, Claudia?” It was Delphine Marceau, Édouard’s elegant mother, who I remembered so very well from my life as Ruby. After all, if it weren’t for her confession, I may still be locked up in a French prison for the murder of a certain black-haired Medusa woman. “Soul mates traveling back in time to be with each other in a past life, how very romantic,” she continued. “And set in Paris, it couldn’t be more perfect. Please, tell me. How do you come up with a story this beautiful, this original?”

  I smiled over at my chic French mother-in-law. “It came to me in a dream one night, and I knew I just had to tell their story.”

  Édouard kissed me on the cheek. “My talented, beautiful wife. How did I ever get so lucky?”

  I cuddled a little closer to my husband. “I’m asking myself the same question.”

  As excited chatter filled up the limo, a peculiar gleam shone in Édouard’s dark-gray eyes.

  “What is it?” I asked, suddenly feeling as light as a feather, as if the burden of carrying these two lives had finally lifted. I could just be me now. Claudia. It was a relief larger than I could express.

  “I thought of a name for the baby,” Édouard said. “Would you like to hear it?”

  I nodded, thinking about how fun this was going to be: picking out baby names, decorating the nursery, preparing the world for a sweet, loving baby girl who would be mine, who would be ours.

  “I don’t know if you’ll like it, but it came to me earlier in the hospital while we were waiting for you to wake up. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

  “What is it?”

  “What do you think of the name Ruby?”

  I smiled, feeling a tear bubble over my eyelid and run down my cheek. “Baby Ruby. It’s perfect.”

  He had no idea how perfect it really was.

  Just then, the limo pulled to a stop. Excited fans crowded the sidewalks to either side of the red carpet. Photographers stood poised on the sidelines, ready to shoot.

  My stomach tightened with nerves at the sight of all these people. Were they really here for us?

  Édouard squeezed my hand. “Are you sure you’re ready for this, chérie?”

  Before I answered him, I remembered my days as Ruby, strutting my stuff onstage, not a nervous bone in my body. I’d adored the crowds, craved the attention.

  Smiling over at Édouard, I realized I wasn’t only Claudia. Ruby still lived inside of me. She always would.

  And Ruby would’ve loved the red carpet.

  “I was born ready,” I said to my husband, shooting him a sexy wink.

  But just as I was about to follow Édouard’s lead, the strong scent of roses drifted past me.

  Flicking my gaze toward the front
of the limo, I noticed the driver opening the partition. A weathered hand stretched through the open space, and dangling from her fingers was none other than a ruby-red pendant in the shape of a heart.

  “Mademoiselle Claudia, I think you may have dropped this.”

  With her striking violet eyes and silvery hair, there was no mistaking the elegant, ever-mysterious Madame Bouchard.

  When we met eyes, she cast a knowing glance toward my belly. “You see, this is how it was all supposed to turn out.”

  “Thank you. Thank you so much,” I said to her, not sure how else to demonstrate the immense gratitude I felt at having my dad and my baby back. And above all, my soul mate, Édouard.

  That familiar, mischievous glimmer appeared in her eyes as she leaned forward and lowered her voice to barely a whisper. “Don’t thank me, Claudia. You did this. All of it.” She dangled the necklace closer to me and raised a silvery brow. “Would you like to wear this tonight? It would look stunning with your dress.”

  Running my hands over my growing belly, I shook my head and grinned at the beautiful old woman. “No, thanks. I have everything I need right here.”

  A soft chuckle escaped her lips, the lines around her eyes crinkling. “Very well. But you must know that this necklace has a way of finding its owner, no matter what the circumstances.”

  “I’m not traveling again, if that’s what you’re implying,” I said firmly.

  Madame Bouchard’s kind regard hardened just the slightest bit before she spoke. “No, my dear. Your travels are complete. But there is something you must know before your daughter arrives.”

  A knot formed in my throat as I stared back at her, wondering what more there could possibly be. Shielding my belly from her penetrating gaze, I forced the words out. “What is it?”

  “These past-life revisits…they run in your family, Claudia.”

  “Chérie, are you coming?” Édouard’s adorable grin appeared just outside the limo, inviting me to follow him, but Madame Bouchard’s words kept me planted in my seat.

  “One second,” I told him, casting another glance toward the front of the limo.

  But just as I feared she would be, the mysterious old woman was already gone, leaving only a whiff of her rose-scented perfume and the hefty weight of her words for me to ponder.