by C L Bauer
Lily smiled at the receptionist. She smiled back.
“Ma’am, is there anything I can get for you? Coffee, hot tea?”
“No, thank you. I’m just waiting on my husband.” Gosh, Lily, can you sound more 1950’s? I’m just the little woman behind the big bad man. Get it together.
“Have you lived in Paris for awhile?” Non-committal conversation might bring her back to normal, whatever that was anymore.
“I’ve been here less than six months. It’s a fantastic assignment. Let me know if you need anything.” The young woman put her head down.
It was a tactful way of saying she was done with inane conversation with the federal agent’s wife. Paris was lovely as long as a terrorist wasn’t blowing up a food mart or café, or even a large event like a concert a few years ago. Lily, can you get more jaded? She preferred to think she was realistic and practical.
Lily stood up suddenly as Dev exited from behind a very large door, accompanied by a suited man.
“Remy, I’d like you to meet my wife, Lily.”
The gentleman smiled broadly and extended his hand to her. “Lily, it is so wonderful to meet you. Dev and I go way back to a tour in Iraq. That’s when I first met Dr. Barbin. I’m sorry about the government’s invasion of your honeymoon, but I hope you’ll have a lovely time all the same.”
“Do you think I can write some of it off on my income taxes?” She smiled coyly.
He patted Dev on the back. “And she’s funny? You really do need that. You were always so serious.”
Dev shrugged his shoulders. “Well, we better get going. Could the driver drop us off at Notre-Dame? We can walk back from there.”
“Of course. Lily, again, it was a pleasure and I’ll see you at the gala. Au revoir.” He bowed gallantly and then retreated behind the large door.
Lily had been to the Cathedral of Notre-Dame years ago, but as Dev and she walked hand-in-hand, the emotion was overwhelming. They both made the sign of the cross with the holy water from a very large font as they entered into the church. Her eyes set straight ahead at one of the Rose Windows. The colors were stunning as the sun was lowering for the day. The cathedral was just as she remembered it after all these years. She recalled the peace she had felt there the first time, the simplicity of the massive wood arching near the ceiling, and the beauty of the statues acquired throughout the ages. A simple gold cross at the altar was the focus of all those many people across generations just striving to understand a higher being. You didn’t have to be Catholic to embrace the love Notre-Dame offered.
She motioned Dev over to the right aisle and walked midway down the side to a beautiful Blessed Virgin statue. She began to search in her purse for an offering. Dev dug in his pocket and pulled out a couple of coins. “I have no money,” she whispered.
He placed the euros into her hand. “Now you do.”
After she placed her money in the secure box, she picked up two matchsticks and handed one to Dev. “We need to light this one together.”
Dev understood. She picked the candle and they lit the wick. They stood in silence as the flame fired up. Oh Lord, how did I get here? Obviously, only with your help. I shouldn’t ask for more, but I will, you know me, I can be a little spoiled. Fine, a lot spoiled on occasion, but I was the baby. I didn’t know any better. You know what I want next, oh and thank you again for this man beside me. That’s all for now. I’ll try not to bother you for awhile.
Lily leaned into Dev’s shoulder and held his hand tighter than before.
“You alright?” Dev whispered. Maybe she was tired; it had been a long day already.
“Yes, more than alright. Can we come back here on another day? I’m sort of getting hungry.”
Of course she was, but actually he was starving. “Of course. Let’s go. I know a place.”
He knew a place. Her husband knew restaurants in Paris. She could tell him where the nearest taco place was in Kansas City.
Just a short walk from the cathedral, they entered a brasserie. An hour later, the sun had long set and Lily’s stomach was full of confit de canard, baby potatoes, and carrots. She never knew she loved roasted duck until today, but she really did love it. They’d drank a bottle of wine and their desserts were placed in front of them. They shared bites of a fruit tart drizzled with caramel and rum sauce and drank café creme.
“How do you like the coffee with all that creamy milk?” Dev thought he could see her eyes roll back in her head with pleasure.
“Please, quiet. This is a spiritual moment.”
He laughed. “You and your spiritual moments.”
She held the cup up against her face. “I love this coffee. Oh, and I love you too.”
“So, I’ll be coming in second to coffee while we are here?”
She smiled. “Oh honey, I’m not sure. There’s also chocolate here, isn’t there?”
Dev had thought it was a good idea to bring her to Paris, but now, not so much.
The romantic dinner was only the beginning of the first few hours of honeymoon as they walked back to the hotel. They’d stopped on one of the bridges to watch the bateaux mouches sailing down the Seine River.
“Can we do that? That’s always been a dream of mine, heck it’s a dream of just about every woman to sail down the Seine at night in the arms of some good looking man.”
Dev was leaning on the bridge. He leaned over and kissed his bride.
“You have anyone in mind?”
She nudged him. “You’ll do.”
“You know what my dream is?”
“I didn’t know you did that sort of thing.”
“I do. I have dreams. Well, I’d like us to walk back to the hotel and get out of this cold weather. Then, maybe I provide you with another café creme to keep you awake, and we see where the night leads.” He whispered what he had in mind once they returned to their suite.
“Dreams happen every day, especially if you bribe me with coffee.”
Chapter Twenty
For the last four days, Paris was at Lily’s feet. She had her romantic trip down the Seine with the man she loved, she’d eaten a luscious chocolate and banana crêpe from a street vendor, and she’d purchased a wonderful piece of art near her favorite bridge, Pont Alexandre III. They’d even managed to spend a sun-filled day in Montmartre, eating lunch at a sidewalk café. Their afternoon at the Musée d’Orsay was beyond words. Dev didn’t hurry her as she sat down to view Edgar Degas’ work The Ballet Class. When they travelled to the Musée de l’Orangerie, she was left speechless at the beauty of the large panels of the Water Lilies by Monet.
Her days were the magic that consumed a romance novel--clutching each other’s hands as they walked through the Tuileries with the cool breezes and the warming sun on their faces, stopping for a kiss or embrace. Her nights were always in her husband’s arms.
“Dev, could you move your arm please?” she asked as she used his bare chest as her pillow.
“I’m sorry, is it too heavy?”
“No, it obstructs my view of the Eiffel Tower if you have it there.”
Dev’s eyes were suddenly wide-open. “What? You’re picking the tower over me?”
She giggled. “I am while I’m in Paris, big boy.”
“You are in so much trouble.” He rolled her quickly onto her back and began tickling certain areas of her body. He knew by now what would send her into uncontrollable laughter. Her laughter made his heart lighter. He’d known that for two years now.
“Stop, please. I can see the tower tomorrow,” she gasped.
He stopped immediately and moved his attention to her lips, tenderly kissing, and then each cheek, the edge of her nose, her forehead, her hair until he returned to her mouth.
“You can’t see the tower now while I’m right above you.”
“I’ll sacrifice it just this once,” she murmured as she looped her hands around his neck and pulled him down to her. “Just this once.”
“It’ll be more than just once.”
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“Promises, promises.”
“Lily,” he whispered as he set fire to her neck with his lips, “just stop talking.”
“You wanted to say shut up, didn’t you?”
“Never. You are always extremely witty and intelligent.” His lips were trailing a path lower. How could the man talk and do what he was doing?
“And now you’re just trying to placate me, trying to make me not think.”
Her hands moved to brush through his hair.
“Is it working?” he murmured.
Her body was betraying her as he touched her in all the right places. Her legs went limp. She could barely answer. “Yes,” she moaned.
One thing about her husband, he did keep his promises.
The next morning, the Paris sky was still dark as two figures met in the quiet gardens of the Tuileries. Paris was still sleeping. Their meeting was reminiscent of a bad spy movie. The only character missing was the bad guy behind the tree, hopefully.
“So, today you must meet your contact.”
It wasn’t a question, it was a factual statement. “Yes, I understand. I’m hoping all is set for the gala?”
“It will be. I’m not sure when we will meet again.”
“Fine, Mr. Pierce. It is a pleasure, so far, doing business with you.”
One man turned and headed into the B-movie fog from the early morning. He jogged away, the passing policeman thinking the man was on a morning run. The other figure, went in the opposite direction near the Musée du Louvre.
Lily’s eyes opened slowly to the streams of sun bathing the suite. She rolled over to welcome her husband to another beautiful morning in the city of light but found an empty pillow. There was a note instead. Gone for a run. Good morning sunshine. Je t’aime
“A run? On your honeymoon? Healthy people are nuts,” Lily complained to an empty room. Fine, she’d get in a long hot shower and decide what she was wearing for their private tour of the Louvre. She would also be meeting the famous, or infamous Claude Barbin. Actually, Dev really hadn’t said much about the man except they’d met each other on one of Dev’s first tours after Afghanistan. That’s when he had met Remy from the embassy. Claude had been sent in to gain intelligence on the looting of antiquities at the National Museum of Iraq when Sadaam Hussein’s regime fell. Apparently, Claude had also worked at the Museum in Cairo during the Arab Spring a few years later.
She was finishing dressing in her leggings and a sweater tunic with her black tall boots when Dev walked through the door with two coffees and a bag of something, probably delicious somethings.
“You better have a high caloric delight in that bag, mister. I missed you this morning.”
He walked over and kissed the top of her head. “I didn’t want to wake you and you were so pretty sleeping. Yes, I do have some pastries in the bag. You look great.”
“Thanks. I even put on makeup for your friend.”
Dev was laying out drinks and the sack on the table near her. “I’m going to jump in the shower. Go ahead and eat.” He quickly headed to the bathroom and shut the door.
When they emerged from the hotel for the short walk to the art museum, Lily thought they looked like the quintessential cosmopolitan couple. Her boots were comfortable and kept her legs warm on this cool morning. Dev wore his short leather jacket with black slacks and a grey button down shirt with black short dress boots.
Lily looked up above the reception area at the painted ceiling as she heard Dev check in.
“I’m here for Dr. Claude Barbin.”
Doctor, whoa, Lily didn’t realize that. Dev had certainly gotten her out of her box with all these adventures, but the box she was exiting now was a freight container! Lily’s stomach flipped. She remembered that a few days from now she’d be attending some big deal party at the Louvre for heaven’s sake. Kansas City seemed miles away in the rearview mirror.
Dev came back with passes to attach to their clothing and a docent provided a short tour while directing them back to the doctor’s office. They passed pieces of art from before the time of Christ--Egyptian, Persian--
“Syrian pottery, Lily.” Dev pointed at the encased bowl. “ISIS has been destroying so much. So many UNESCO sites have been destroyed in their caliphate. So sad.”
“UNESCO?”
“UN’s educational, scientific and cultural organization. Our soldiers have worked with them on occasion to attempt to save historical sites, ruins, etc. In Syria, it’s too late and some of the early churches are rubble.”
Apparently, these hallowed halls made everything serious. Dev’s face was stone cold, no twinkling eyes there. Lily stole a glance at her husband as they neared the door at the end of the hall. He had his DEA face on, the one she couldn’t read. At least he had not been looking for terrorists around every corner. If he had been, she hadn’t realized. The docent opened the large wood door and waved them through.
There was a large desk with maps and small items cluttered all over it. Lily was shocked at the mess. Wow, the doc needs some post-it notes, well at least a list or two or perhaps a housekeeper?
“Dev, is it really you?” Lily heard a very beautiful lilting French accent and then she saw Claude. She saw HER. The woman was tall and very French; slender, like most typical French women. She looked like a mix between Charlize Theron and Gwyneth Paltrow with long blonde hair, petite black rimmed glasses, steely blue eyes and a body to kill for. Crud.
The woman quickly rushed to Dev and kissed him the European way, kiss one side, kiss the other side and then do a return run back to the other side for one more kiss. The kissing was excessive, especially since she was kissing Lily’s new husband. He’d worked with Claude on one of his tours. Claude would show them around the Louvre, the greatest collection of art in the world. A private tour would be wonderful. We’d be going to a magnificent party. Lily was boiling inside. She remained quiet, but took her fist and projected it stiffly onto his left arm.
“Claude,” he exclaimed, part shock from the greeting, part from the belt he’d just received from the sweet woman he called his wife. “Claude, this is my wife Lily. We’re here on our honeymoon.”
The doctor extended her hand. “Welcome to our museum. So sorry that your honeymoon will be a little interrupted.”
Lily smiled and shook her hand, saying nothing. No, you are not sorry. You don’t care about my honeymoon. Lily was fuming, still maintaining her plastic “on” smile. Where was her little kissy, kisses? Hmm, none for me?
“Dev never mentioned you were a woman. And you’re a doctor, I’m assuming in art?” Lily could talk through clenched teeth. It was an artform too, and she had majored in it over the years. Abby and she could converse in complete paragraphs while never moving their lips.
“Oui, and in various civilization antiquities, primarily the time of the Ottoman Empire, some Samarian through Roman rule. I met your lovely husband on one of my missions to rescue certain pieces from Ur and to protect the artifacts. The soldiers were very understanding.” She winked at Dev.
Lily protectively looped her arm through Dev’s. She felt like she was at prom again and a cheerleading interloper was after her man. Wait, she’d never gone to prom. She was still feeling very uncomfortable. Had they been more than just comrades during a war? “Amazing. That was a very worthwhile undertaking. And the danger? Do you get used to that?” Shut up, Lily. She’s probably a secret agent of some kind too.
“Ah, well it is very exciting. I know Dev understands that rush of adrenaline.” She sent a knowing smile his way.
Dev coughed. “Do you have time for a tour? I’m sure Lily would really enjoy it.”
“Actually,” Claude admitted, “I have someone to take her on the tour while we go over some papers together.” The woman removed her eyeglasses and Lily could’ve swore she flipped her hair seductively. Was there a wind machine in this room? Lily looked around.
“Well, I was hoping to go with her.”
Claude hit a button on some sort
of phone system and a small man popped into the room. “I’ve arranged for Albert to escort Lily. His English is very good.” She looked down at her watch. “Albert, une heure, s’il vous plaît?”
“Oui. Madame Pierce, this way.” He extended his hand to show her the way out. Lily felt like she was being rushed out, away from her husband.
“Claude, je ne comprends pas,” Dev said as he held onto Lily’s hand, preventing her from departing.
Claude whispered something to Dev in French, and he nodded affirmatively. “Lily, go with him and I’ll join you by the Mona Lisa. I’ll text Albert. Please.” His eyes were pleading with her.
“I’m counting on that, this time.” She pulled her hand away. “My French is a little rusty, but if you don’t understand why she’s doing this, then there’s something very wrong. Á toute á l’heure, and it better not be too late. Meet you at the lady.” She smiled at Albert, introduced herself and they retreated down the hallway. She never looked back. They were having their first real fight and neither one of them had uttered one mean word.
Albert was actually a delight. He had three daughters and one of them was marrying in a few weeks. Of course, they talked about the wedding plans, but in France it was much different than in the US. The couple would go to the magistrate’s office and marry in a civil ceremony that dated back to the French revolution. Then, perhaps, there was breakfast or a lovely celebration dinner. Some had flowers, some had a very simple meal with family and a few friends while others had large dances and receptions.
“I’d go out of business,” Lily remarked as they passed by several Renoirs. “These are so dark.”
“They are all dark in this wing. I much prefer Monet, Manet, Degas. They are so beautiful and the light, the colors amuse me.” He was whispering. “Don’t tell. It is our secret.”
