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This is set about four weeks after the last chapter, and is still from Maura's POV.
'Oui, c'est ça'. Maura peered over Helene's shoulder, and smiled encouragingly before handing her a sharp knife. 'En rectangles'.
Hélène carefully took the knife and, copying what she had seen Maura do so many times before, lightly marked out even notches on the side of the large, square tray of pastry to indicate where she would cut. She had first expressed an interest in learning the craft of pâtisserie a couple of months ago, and Maura had been delighted that the young woman, who had just left school last year, was so enthusiastic. It had just been too busy to organise anything in the way of teaching, but, now that things had quietened down a bit, Maura had decided to make it a priority. And so she had asked if Helene would come in on a Thursday, not one of her normal days, in order to help make some of the pastries for the latter part of the week. Maura was keeping it simple to start with. Individual almond and raspberry tarts. A chocolate and coffee mousse cake. A batch of macarons. Basics, but essentials in the pâtisserie. And the more of those basics that Hélène could eventually take off her hands, the easier life would be.
It might also mean that, finally, she could start taking some more time off.
Maura had never thought that the pâtisserie would become an imposition. It was not just her work. It was her passion. It was - and she felt a little pathetic admitting to this - her life. She had poured everything into it, heart and soul, and had been rewarded with a successful business that, up until now, she had found totally fulfilling. She had never really felt the need for anything else...and, she thought wryly, that was maybe just as well, since living above the shop made it very difficult to leave work at the bottom of the stairs even if she had wanted to. But now, she was starting to feel torn. She was starting to feel like she wanted some time that didn't involve making pastries, selling pastries, or tending to the administration side of running a pastry business.
She had something - or rather, someone - else in her life now that she wanted to start making a lot more room for.
That someone, of course, was Jane, and the distance had not dampened Maura's desire to spend as much time with her as she possibly could. They already talked a lot online and on the phone, and it always made her incredibly happy to hear Jane's voice...despite the one horrendous phone bill that she had already had, and the second one that she was expecting any day now. But, however long they had to talk, it was never long enough, and the joyful buzz was beginning to be tinged with a sadness, a kind of despondency as it finally sunk in that Jane really was four thousand miles and an ocean away.
Maura had known that the initial, constant euphoria would wear off. She had known that it couldn't last forever. But what she hadn't been prepared for was the sudden, gripping sensation of pure loneliness that had struck her one night as she had climbed into bed. She had just signed off a Skype call, and, without Jane's throaty voice filling the void, her apartment had seemed empty. It had always been her haven, but then it had felt bare and cold. Suddenly, she had missed Jane so badly that it was like a physical pain, and for the first time since the day Jane had left Paris, she had felt like crying.
The loneliness of that night had not really gone away. Every time she sent an email, or a text message, or even a good old-fashioned postcard, she found herself wishing that people could travel as easily and as quickly as words, because words on their own were no longer enough. She wanted Jane. She wanted Jane so badly that she had even considered leaving the pâtisserie for a couple of weeks and taking her first vacation since opening...although, realistically, she knew that it would be a while before she would be able to get her head around doing that. She had never left the pâtisserie before, not even for a weekend.
And she didn't think that she could wait that long.
Maura hadn't needed to explain all of that to Jane. Somehow, Jane had understood - possibly, she thought, because Jane didn't want to wait either. So when her girlfriend had tentatively mentioned the fact that she still had some leave remaining that needed to be taken before the end of the year, otherwise it would be lost...Maura hadn't even needed to think about it. The idea of Jane returning to Paris, even just for a short while, had made her almost giddy with happiness, and she knew that, somehow, they would make it happen.
She just didn't want to be completely tied to the pâtisserie when it did. And so, if Hélène wanted to learn anyway, it was a win-win situation.
'Maura?'
Her reverie was broken by Hélène, who had finished slicing the pastry into perfect rectangles and was waiting for the next instruction. Maura couldn't help smiling as she looked at the tray. Hélène had done a good job - but Maura always smiled when she made millefeuilles. They were just one of those things that never failed to make her happy, and she often found herself making them when she felt a bit down.
She had made seven batches in the last two weeks.
Maura even loved the name. Millefeuilles. Literally, a thousand leaves - or, in this case, seven hundred and twenty nine leaves of handmade, flaky, buttery puff pastry that had just been sandwiched together, not with the traditional crème pâtissière, but with a mixture of whipped cream, mascarpone, sugar and lavender to create a delicate, summery delight that would melt in the mouth. Simply decorated with a dusting of icing sugar, they looked almost too good to eat.
Almost.
'Wow. Très bien'. Maura spoke through a mouthful of lavender cream, and Hélène smiled shyly. When it came to pastries, a compliment from Maura was not something to be taken lightly...and the lavender had, after all, been Hélène's suggestion. It could, Maura thought, even trump the classic praline filling as her favourite.
The pastry had done its work so well that it was only after she had helped Hélène take the tray through to the shop, ready for the afternoon opening, that Maura checked her cell phone and saw that she had a message. Opening it, another, more intimate smile spread across her face, and she felt a warm feeling begin to grow in her tummy as she read it.
Morning off - you around? J x
It was almost four thirty, and she and Hélène had been in the kitchen since eight that morning. All the pastries were finished. Hélène was gathering her bag and her jacket, ready to go home, and Amélie was already there to open the shop again. Maura would normally have worked the shop with Amélie, or tinkered on in the kitchen, but with the prospect of an hour or so with Jane...
Sure. Just finishing up some lavender pastries. Be right there.
No contest.
After saying goodbye to Hélène, Maura left Amélie to it with instructions to call her if she needed anything, and all but ran up the stairs to her apartment. Heading to the refrigerator, she grabbed a couple of strawberries for Coco - she had been shamed into finally making the effort to buy some by the blank refusal of the tortoise to eat anything else - and settled down on the floor next to her pet with the laptop perched on the coffee table.
Jane was already there.
'Lavender pastries?'
Maura nodded happily. She could see that Jane was sitting at her kitchen table, coffee in hand and an old Boston PD sweatshirt covering her slender frame. She could see the piles of laundry through the open bedroom door, and the washing up still sat in the sink, and a couple of shopping bags sat on the floor that were yet to be unpacked. Jane's apartment looked like it always did - barely-controlled, very untidy chaos - but Maura loved it. Once again, she had that overwhelming feeling that she always got when talking to Jane, that everything was now okay.
She countered with a question of her own.
'How did you get a morning off? I thought you were in the middle of something'.
Jane never spoke much about the actual cases that she worked on. She did, however, talk a lot about her colleagues, and Maura now felt as if Barry Frost and Vince Korsak were friends, despite the fact that she had never actually met or talked to them. She had often wondered whether they knew about her...but, not wanting to pressure Jane, she had never asked.
'Closed it last night'. Jane smiled in satisfaction. 'But we didn't finish up til gone midnight, so Cavanagh gave us the morning off'. She screwed up her face in a thoughtful grimace. 'He's never done that before, and he's been in a good mood for days. Korsak thinks he's getting some'.
Maura raised her eyebrows, about to ask more questions, but Jane shook her head as she swallowed a mouthful of coffee.
'But since I'd rather not talk about my boss having sex, can we move back to the pastries please?'
Maura giggled, and absent-mindedly tickled Coco's shell as she complied.
'Lavender millefeuilles'.
'Like vanilla slices?'
'Umm-hmm, except not vanilla. Helene suggested trying a cream-and-mascarpone combination with lavender food essence, and it worked really well. I think she's going to be good'.
'She has a good teacher'.
Maura blushed slightly. She always did when Jane complimented her.
'She has a good instinct anyway'. She paused to remember the light, elegant flavour of the pastries. 'And they tasted wonderful. It's started me thinking about new flavours now. I've usually just done praline and vanilla, but I think maybe honey would be nice as well'.
'Honey?'
'Hmm, a couple of tablespoons mixed in with the cream could work. I think I'd use flower honey, rather than the stronger mountain honey, to give it a more subtle flavour...What do you think?'
Jane shrugged, and smiled.
'Sure, give it a go. I like honey'.
Maura smiled to herself as she shifted to a more comfortable position. Jane always humoured her when she started chatting away about the pâtisserie, and Maura always appreciated it...even though she knew that Jane didn't understand what she was talking about half the time. But that didn't matter to her, and she guessed that it didn't to Jane, either.
When she returned her attention to the laptop screen, she saw that Jane was watching her intently, a small smile playing about her lips. Suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious, Maura ran her fingers over her mouth and chin, checking for crumbs from the millefeuille that she had eaten earlier, and, finding none, raised her eyebrows at Jane.
'What?'
'You. You look beautiful'.
Maura looked down at herself. She still had on her chef's shirt, and the baggy Citizen jeans that she often wore to work in just because they were comfortable. She had at least kicked her sneakers off at the apartment door...but still. She wasn't exactly looking at her best. With two minutes' notice, there hadn't been an awful lot she could do.
'Really'. Jane had seen her disbelieving look.
'I still have this shirt on. I should at least go and change out of that...' She looked up at Jane with a twinkle in her eye. 'Then I might believe you'.
'Go ahead'.
Jane's voice was suddenly even huskier than usual, and Maura paused, her heart beating a little faster and the twinkle fading as her eyes questioned the dark haired woman who was sitting on the other side of the world.
Jane looked straight back at her. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet.
'I miss you, Maura. Really miss you'.
'I miss you too'. Maura heard the slight crack in her voice, but at that moment, she didn't really care. She watched as Jane took a breath as if to say something else, but nothing came out, and after a moment Maura gave her a gentle prompt. 'What?'
'I was...' Jane paused, and then shook her head again before taking a deep breath, looking almost embarrassed. 'I was going to say...honey. And lavender. Those smells always remind me of you now'. Her voice dropped almost to a whisper. 'It's what you tasted like'.
Maura felt her breath catch in her throat, and had to swallow a gasp as a sudden, hard throbbing sensation went straight down through her stomach. She had thought about that night so many times. She had lain in bed and remembered the feel of Jane's lips on her, of Jane's fingers inside her, and had quickly discovered that what she could do barely even took the edge off. Only Jane could do that now...and Jane wasn't there.
They had never talked about the night that they had spent together. Sometimes, Maura had even wondered whether Jane even thought about it at all in the same way that she did, but she had never brought the subject up. A part of her had selfishly wanted to keep those memories to herself, scared that they would be somehow tarnished if Jane's version of that night didn't match her own. She had never allowed herself to believe that Jane might have been doing the same thing. And that same part of her hadn't even dared to hope that Jane, too, might have spent nights lying awake, thinking about Maura and remembering the taste of lavender and honey.
Until now.
'This is way harder than I thought it would be. It was ok to start with, but...'
Maura blinked at the raw emotion in Jane's voice that so completely mirrored her own feelings. It was hard. The whole thing was horribly hard. And not being able to touch each other, however innocently, was probably hardest of all.
Slowly, Maura stood up, tilting the laptop screen back as she did so. She didn't think too much about what she was about to do - she couldn't, otherwise she wouldn't do it. She had wondered about it before, fantasised about it, and then dismissed it, thinking that she would be far too self-conscious, and that actually it might just feel kind of weird. And, she had thought, it probably wouldn't help anyway. She still wouldn't have Jane's warm touch on her skin, or Jane's lips on her body, and being able to see Jane would probably just leave her even more frustrated than usual. And so showing off her new underwear had been as far as she had gone.
But now, all she could think about was that, somehow, she wanted Jane. Jane wanted her. And since they couldn't be together...well, maybe it was time to try something else. Something that, in a funny kind of way, felt like it would be even more intimate than what they had already shared.
She saw Jane's eyes widen as she slipped out of her shirt to reveal nothing but a simple blue bra underneath. She saw Jane's breathing get slightly faster, saw the dark irises turn to charcoal as the jeans went the same way as the shirt. If Jane didn't want to do this, she would stop. But, somehow, she didn't think that would be a problem.
'Maura?'
'Yes?'
'How is, uh...how is this going to work, exactly?'
Maura took a deep breath, and shook her head slowly.
'I have no idea. And if you don't want to, it's fine, just...'
'No, I want to'. Jane looked as if she was about to laugh, or cry, or both, and Maura watched as she ran a hand over her face. 'God, Maura, I want you more than I've ever wanted anything, but I just don't know...are you sure?'
In a way, it was comforting to know that Jane was just as nervous and hesitant as she was. But Maura could also tell that Jane, too, had thought about it before, and that was what gave her the courage to nod.
'Yes'. It was whispered, but it was enough, and Jane nodded, swallowing hard.
'Then...could you go through to your bedroom? Please? That tortoise is watching me again'.