Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Phantom of the Opera or Ghost Whisperer; I'm just borrowing them for further entertainment purposes (stuffs Erik into a closet to hide him from lawyers).
AN: Hurray for chapter 2! I know that this is coming out rather quickly after the end of "To Start Anew," but I got started on it and just couldn't stop writing! I just love it when inspiration hits, don't you? Oh, and please don't forget to review and let me know how the story is going! Thanks!
Chapter 2: Experiencing Paris:
Packing for a trip is one thing…packing for a trip to Paris is something else! This Melinda noticed the moment she looked at her fully-packed suitcase and wanted to scream out loud in frustration. Over the course of a week's time, she had managed to switch out each and every outfit she had previously packed and replace it with something else…twice.
"Melinda, please, everything you packed is fine!" Jim said, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "You've already gone through that thing a dozen times! Would you please just let it go?"
"Jim, Paris is one of the fashion capitols of the world, and has been for centuries," Melinda said in a lecturing tone. "If I go over there in something shabby or out-of-date, I swear that people will laugh at me!"
Her husband sighed, rolling his eyes once more in annoyance. "Okay, but just be sure to have everything ready for tomorrow afternoon's flight, okay?"
"I promise," she replied with a smile and a kiss. "Everything will be fine after we leave, I promise."
'Okay, next time I promise that everything will be fine, I'll have to slap myself,' Melinda thought as she hauled her carryon suitcase up the ramp and onto the plane. 'Don't make promises that you aren't sure you can keep!'
Once the baggage had been stowed up in the overhead compartment, and after she and Jim were both happily seated on the right-hand side of the plane in first class…only then did she manage to take a deep breath and relax. Like a true gentleman, Jim let her have the window seat so that she could watch the view while he 'made sure no strange men put their hands on his beautiful wife.'
"Well, at least we made it on time," Jim said, giving her a happy grin as they settled into the comfortable, roomy chairs. "And best of all, we were upgraded to first class!"
Melinda couldn't hold back her laughter. "You mean after I," she lifted up her fingers to keep count, "burned breakfast, had my bag literally explode on me, had the car die just before we left so that we had to call a cab, and forgot to lock the windows and doors so that we had to come," she made a circular motion with her hand, "all the way back to the house to do it. Only then did we arrive on time, get through security, and get upgraded to first class based on the fact that it was underbooked while business class was overbooked." She sighed and leaned back with a smile.
Jim pretended to think about it. "Yeah, I think we deserved it," he declared with a smile as he leaned forward to give her a kiss.
"Oh, are you newlyweds?" asked a rather elderly voice with a French accent.
The two younger people turned around and glanced across the aisle at an old woman seated next to an equally older man. Jim gave a smirk of embarrassment as Melinda giggled.
"No, we're just heading to Paris for a sort of second honeymoon," Melinda explained, grinning as Jim took her left hand in his right one.
"Oh, how lovely," the elderly woman said, smiling fondly at the man sitting next to her. "We are just returning home to Paris after a long trip to visit our great-grandchildren. It's so nice to see young people so in love come to see our fair city."
"Well, I've heard that it is both the City of Lights and the most romantic place in Europe," Jim said with a smile.
"Ah, but you have not yet been to Italy," the old man said, patting the arm of his wife. "The cities there are also romantic and very beautiful." He then reached out and kissed the back of his wife's hand. "I took her there after our own wedding. We return there once every few years for the memories."
"Aw, that's sweet!" Melinda said, beaming. "Next time we'll have to go to Italy, won't we, Jim?"
"Yeah, after I put in a lot of overtime," he muttered, sneaking her a playful glare.
Melinda merely stuck her tongue out at him, much to the amusement of the couple sitting across the aisle. "Whatever," she said, sitting back in her chair as the flight attendant began announcing the safety procedures over the intercom. Since she knew this all by heart, she ignored the instructions.
"Forgive me," the woman said, once again catching her attention. "My name is Elaine, and this is my husband, Philippe de Chagny."
"De Chagny?" Melinda said. 'Where have I heard that name before?'
"Yes, we are rather proud of our name," Elaine said, smiling. "There is even a legend that says that we are descended from the Vicompt de Chagny, from the story Le Fantôme de l'Opéra."
For a moment, Miranda processed that in her mind. "Oh!" she exclaimed softly with a smile. "The Phantom of the Opera?" she asked.
"Oui!" declared Philippe with a proud grin. "It is only legend, but it is still fun to pretend that it's true, no?"
"Absolutely," Jim said with a smile. "So, tell me about Paris? Oh, I'm Jim, by the way, and this is my wonderful wife, Melinda."
The first half of the flight passed quickly, and before they knew it, it was time to sleep for the overnight section of the trip.
"Okay, what hotel are we staying at?" Melinda asked with a yawn. Even in first class, sleeping in the chair is not very comfortable.
"We're staying at the Hilton," Jim declared, beaming. "Apparently nobody spared the expense of flight and accommodations when it came to this trip!"
"Well, then lead on," Miranda declared, allowing her husband to take the baggage out of the terminal and to the section where taxis waited.
Within an hour and a half, they were unpacked and happily adjusting to the hotel room. It was rather large, but beautiful and elegant in its own right, having both a modern and classical air about it. There was carved marble everywhere, and the old furnishings were something Melinda would love to have on sale in her shop.
"Okay," Jim said, rising from the bed and rubbing his hands together. "Now that we're all settled in, what do you say to some exploring?"
Melinda couldn't hold back a groan as she collapsed dramatically onto the bed her husband had just vacated. "Do we have to?" she asked, flinging her right arm over her eyes. "Can't I adjust to the fact that we're supposed to be running over eight hours ahead, not to mention all of the hours we just spent on the plane?"
"Come on, Melinda, let's get going." Grinning, Jim scooped up his protesting wife and deposited her on her feet inside of the bathroom, ignoring her pouting. "Come on, the sooner we complete today like any normal day, the sooner we can go to bed like the natives and wake up fresh and early tomorrow, perfectly in tune with the time change. How does that sound?"
She didn't comment, merely closed the door behind her to get ready.
"Okay, I think we have officially maxed out the credit cards," Jim muttered as he juggled several shopping bags from one hand to the other. "Honey, don't you think we should get all this back to the hotel?"
"Just one more shop, Jim," Melinda begged, glancing around the street. "I mean, how often does a girl get to go shopping in Paris?"
"Not often, which is fine by me," he grumbled, staring at the pile of boxes and bags he was currently toting around. Jim then looked at the four or five bags his wife was carrying and sighed. "Can we at least put these in the car? My arms are going to fall off, I swear they are."
His wife merely laughed as she led him back to the rental car that they had been given as they left the hotel. Amazingly, the trip had included all transportation, both air and ground, so they didn't have to pay extra; they only had to pay for meals they had outside of the Hilton, and for any sort of shopping that they did.
Once the packages were deposited in the trunk of the car and the alarm reset, the two headed off to find a café to have something to eat. It was mid-afternoon, so it was too late for lunch, but too early for dinner. Instead, Melinda ordered a light meal of assorted crepes for both her and Jim to share. Her favorite was one containing various kinds of seafood, covered in a delicious cream sauce. Jim preferred one filled with eggs and sausage mixed together, but both agreed that the perfect finale to the meal was a crepe filled with fresh strawberries and chocolate sauce, topped with whipped cream.
Melinda wiped her mouth and sat back in her chair, a contented smile on her face. "That…was perfect," she said happily, her hand reaching for the cup of coffee that the waiter had just brought. "What do you think?"
"I think," Jim said with an equally pleased smile, "that if we stay here longer than we're meant to, I'll be too fat to resume my job as an ambulance driver when we get back to Grandview."
Giggles escaped Melinda's mouth, and a few diners looked over, though they seemed more amused than upset. A few women exchanged understanding smiles with her as they reached for the hands of their husbands or lovers, which caused Melinda to smile back at them.
'Wow, Paris really is the City of Love,' she thought as they paid the bill.
Blinking at the bright sunshine, Melinda took her husband's arm and let him lead her into the street, their eyes darting around, taking in the sights. They saw many street painters, artists who made their living on drawing the landscapes, passersby, or those who wanted portraits made of their spouses or children. They paused at one of the quiet street corners where an artist sat, waiting for a customer to approach or for inspiration to hit him, whichever came first.
Out of nowhere, Jim suddenly insisted that he wanted a painting of his wife to take home and hang above their fireplace, causing her to blush as the French painter smiled and fluttered around, gathering his paints together for the task. He quickly seated her down on a comfortable chair with a red cushion, the back of the seat facing the street while Melinda faced the sidewalk and the people either passing by or stopping to watch.
Once seated, Melinda arranged the brown, flowing skirt she wore so that it looked neat, the wooden beads trimming the edge lightly clanking together as she moved. She then pulled off her jean jacket and handed it to Jim, who held it patiently while she straightened her white blouse and placed her hands in her lap, a small smile on her face. The painter gave her a cheerful smile before delving into his work.
"You are very pretty woman," the artist declared in accented English, smiling as his pencil moved around on the canvas. "Your husband is lucky man."
"Oh, thank you," Melinda said, blushing as Jim chuckled from his standing position behind and to the artist's right. "That's very nice of you."
The man simply waved her comment aside. "It is true," he replied, smiling as he hands moved quickly. "You have a natural beauty about you…too many women wear the colors over the eyes and the lipstick…you take good care of yourself."
Jim seemed to be a bit jealous at that point. "So, how long do you think it'll take for you to finish the picture?" he asked, shifting his stance.
"Oh, not long," the man said, giving Melinda an amused wink and a smile. "An hour or so…not much longer than that."
"Good," Jim said, his voice clipped.
Melinda merely smiled at them both and let the man do his work.
"Well, that was fun," she said, happily carrying her bags of purchases while Jim carried the painting of her. Actually, she was just happy that she hadn't seen a single ghost yet today; she had been too focused on spending a fun-filled day with her husband. Maybe tomorrow, but hopefully not till then.
"Oh, yeah," was Jim's sarcastic reply, rolling his eyes as they arrived back at the hotel room. "I especially liked it when one Frenchman wanted to know 'who the beautiful lady in the painting is,' and to see if she was available."
Melinda literally heard him growl in the back of his throat and laughed as they entered the room, depositing their purchases on various tables and chairs. "I thought it was sweet," she said, "especially when you nearly bit the poor man's head off."
"Hey, the guy was trying to make a move on my wife," he declared, waving a finger at her. "I'm not going to let some smooth-talking Frenchman try and steal you away from me."
She merely shook her head. "Well, let's just go out for dinner and a walk, how about that?" she suggested, smiling at him.
"Fine by me," Jim said, smiling back at her. "How about we eat here tonight? In a hotel restaurant, since it's already paid for?"
Melinda merely walked up to him and planted a kiss on his lips. "I'll go freshen up and then we can go."
Watching his wife skip off to the bathroom, Jim couldn't hold back a proud grin. "I am one lucky man," he muttered to himself as he shook his head.
Dinner had been an elegant affair, with good wine accompanying the seafood appetizer, the roasted duck with vegetables, and the delicious pastry sampler that managed to energize them after the heavy meal. The coffee also helped, and before they knew it, Jim and Melinda were on a romantic walk through the streets of Paris, Jim's arm wrapped securely around his wife's waist in the oncoming darkness. Streetlamps lit the way, and the two began wandering around, smiling at fellow tourists who passed them by on their way to dinner or a club.
Full night had settled in when the two of them began traveling down a fairly quiet street. It was then that Melinda felt the hair stand up on the back of her neck. She turned her head around, trying to see if a menacing spirit was nearby. However, all she saw were a few couples dressed in Victorian garb, which made her think that perhaps the spirits came out in full force when it was dark. Paris was a very crowded place, so perhaps the dead here preferred to come out when most of the living were asleep in their homes or tucked indoors.
"Melinda?" Jim asked, glancing down at her before following her gaze as it flitted around the street. "Honey, I really don't like the look on your face. What are you seeing that I don't?"
At that moment, a few of the Victorian couples turned around and looked at her, smiling and nodding before moving on, apparently aware that they were dead and very happy with it. All she could do was smile back as she and Jim kept walking down the sidewalk.
"Well, there are quite a few couples who are dressed for the 1800's," Melinda replied in a weak attempt at humor. "But they seem perfectly happy and aware that they're dead. A few are even waving happily at me!"
True enough, another couple passed by, this one somewhat older, perhaps in their fifties, the man tipping his hat to her while his wife gave a sincere smile and nod. Always polite, Melinda smiled and nodded back.
"Okay, well, if they're perfectly happy with their situation in…" Jim cleared his throat, "um, with their situation in the afterlife, why do you look so jumpy?"
"Because I sensed something a few minutes ago," she said bluntly. "It's not something bad or anything, it's just something that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It certainly got my attention!"
Jim looked up and realized that they had reached the end of the street and were now at the curb. "Maybe it was one of the buildings we passed by that gave you that feeling. Did you want to go back and check it out?"
She nodded her head, and they both turned their heads up to the right to check out what they had just passed by. Both of them gaped. How could they not have noticed the beautiful, artistic structure? Impressive columns, numerous elegant arches, gold statues on the top left and right corners of the building, intricately carved figures all along the top and bottom section of the walls, and the large dome on the top of the building all seemed to work together to create what looked like a palace.
"It is the Palais Garnier," a voice whispered into her ear.
Melinda turned around, coming face-to-face with another ghostly couple, the woman in a fine gown and the man in formalwear, complete with top hat and walking cane. "Palais Garnier?" she asked.
"You Americans call it the Paris Opera House… we once called it the Opera Populaire," the woman said with a smile that was filled with fear and anger. "The interior was burned down well over a century ago by le Fantôme, but the outside was spared. It was very expensive to rebuild."
"Oh, really," Melinda replied, not knowing what else to say. Glancing out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jim looking at her intently.
The woman laughed. "You are touched with the Sight, mademoiselle," she said, smiling. "That would explain why you see us and your husband does not." She curtseyed. "Well, we must go. Bon soir!"
"Good night!" Melinda called after them as they faded from view. Jim, meanwhile, was waiting for her to explain the whole thing, which she did.
"So do you think the whole story about the Phantom really happened?" he asked, staring up at the beautiful structure. "Could his spirit, or the spirits of those he killed in the fire, be the reason why you got the shivers?"
"It could be," she replied, also staring up at the Opera House. "I'd have to go inside to check."
"What, you mean right now?" Jim protested as Melinda began pulling on his arm. "Honey, the place is probably closed for the night to visitors! Can't we come back in the morning, when things probably aren't so…" he looked around, "spooky?"
"If I come back during the day, the spirits probably won't show themselves to me," she said, still tugging on his arm. "So far, the only ghosts I've seen have been after dark tonight, and if I want to get to the bottom of this, I need to go inside right now to get some answers!"
By this time, they had reached the front doors. Melinda tried to turn the knob, and was ecstatic when it opened without any trouble. Meanwhile, Jim was cursing to himself about his lack of good luck as his wife led him inside the Opera House.
AN: Another chapter done! Please leave a review and let me know how I'm doing! Thanks!
