Due to a railway delay, they had arrived in Paris much later in the day than they had planned. The delay was a minor one in the grand scheme of things, and Jean, for her part, saw no reason to complain – she was finally seeing the world in the company of the man she loved like no other.
It was not long into their honeymoon when Jean realized how much pressure Lucien put upon himself to give her the perfect trip; often his usually laid-back persona had been replaced by an anxious and overly solicitous one. They had scarcely left Australia when she had to practically pull him by the beard and tell him that he was enough and that they could stay in a cave for all that she cared, as long as he was with her. The kiss then was scarcely appropriate for a public place.
The luggage was loaded into a taxi, and she was surprised when it sped off without them in it.
"There's something I'd like to show you…unless you're hungry?"
She rather thought that she'd never eaten so much as she's done in the last few months, and was thankful that they'd found some rather enjoyable ways to work off the extra calories.
"No, I'm fine. What are you planning?"
"You'll see," he said with a grin.
She had been working hard to embrace a certain level of spontaneity on this trip; she was, to her core and out of necessity, a planner, so she was trying hard to adjust to a certain lack of control. Lucien had, with a few exceptions, planned their itinerary, and she knew he had worked hard to make this a trip of a lifetime for the both of them. He took such boyish glee from surprising her with each new destination, she did not have the heart to take away his joy, even though sometimes it was against her nature to not have an inkling about what the next day would bring.
It was a short walk, a welcome exertion after being cooped up on the train. The sky was overcast, and the pavement glistened from rain that had thankfully ended some time before. Lucien felt like kid on Christmas morning – his wife (it still seemed incredible to him that it would be so) was on his arm, and they were walking in Paris. It was a city that he hadn't visited since long before the war, despite its claim on (or perhaps because of) his heart. The summer before his mother died, the three Blakes had traveled here to visit some of his mother's family, and in his memory that summer seemed magical. He had returned, once or twice, after university, but his mother's passing and the growing indifference or animosity between father and son had tarnished the gilt on his memory. But now, as they approached the Seine, he found himself in a much happier and hopeful frame of mind.
They had boarded a small tour boat, and were enjoying the view of the city from the river. It was warm for the end of May, but still she leaned into him, her eyes transfixed on the scenery unfolding around them. Lucien spent most of his time watching her, enjoying her reactions. She made some comment.
"Hmm?"
He was too slow. She tore her eyes away and looked at him, catching him staring at her.
"What?" she asked.
"I think you know very well, Mrs. Blake," he responded and kissed her gently on her temple.
The sky had been brightening, and as the boat slowly glided through the water, the beginnings of the sunset appeared beneath the retreating clouds.
"Oh."
They had come around a bend in the river, and laid out before them in exquisite beauty was Notre-Dame Cathedral, its spire and towers reaching into the last rays of the day.
On this trip, they had seen plenty of churches, but none to compare to this. She was transfixed, and he thought that any amount of money was worth it to take Jean to Paris, even if it meant he had to dig ditches for the rest of his life to afford it, just for the look of pure joy on her face.
"We can go to Mass, there, tomorrow, if you'd like," he whispered.
Eyes glistening, she merely nodded, and he pulled her a little closer.
Author's note: Thank you for reading. I'm still working on "Fever", but in light of recent events, I felt I needed to get this one out.