The early morning clouds disperse to a clear blue sky. Perfect weather for a walk up the steps to Sacré Coeur. Over breakfast Jean suggest they will visit both cathedrals that day. In the evening, after a rest from the morning trek they will visit Notre Dame before heading to Lucien's friend's club.
"You sure you want to visit both in one day, darling?"
"Yes, I figure if I'm going to get struck down by lightening to get all over at once!" Jean says lightly. Their dance, song, love of the night before abolishes any regret and guilt that had been planted once again by their visit to the Vatican. It was her choice to follow her heart and marry Lucien; to walk away from the church. Looking at her husband, his hair still ruffled from sleep wearing just a vest with his pajama bottoms, his bright blue eyes sparkling as he smiles at her, she has no doubt that her love for him is stronger than her devotion to God. She no longer cares if that means she will burn in Hell for this love, for if she does there will be many others there whose only sin is loving another.
Lucien laughs, "If anyone is going to be struck by lightening it will be me long before you my dear."
Standing at the top of the hill Montmartre, the romano-byzantine style structure looms before them. They rest after the hike up the many stairs that lead to the basilica. Taking some time to soak in the breathtaking view of Paris at this elevation the lovers sit. Jean leans close into Lucien's side as one of his arms shelters her from the watchful eye of the Catholic Church behind them.
Jean breaks their silence. "Two more days and we are off again." She gives a small sigh. "It really is so beautiful for a city isn't it?"
He chuckles, "Yes, for a city."
She gives him a poke in the ribs with her elbow. "You know what I mean. It's hard to compare the Greek Isles or the Swiss Alps to this."
"You are absolutely right my dear." Reverently kissing her at the base of this holy place. They truly are their own sacred beings to worship wherever they chose.
Jean reluctantly pulls away from him standing, reaching out her hand, their life line to one another. A simple touch of their hands calms and centers their souls. This is what she needs to enter this place of worship. Lucien's fingers lace with hers, the heat from him a reminder of the rightness of her choices.
As they enter through the massive doors Lucien stops in front of the holy water font, dabs his fingers in, crosses himself before giving Jean the smallest of nods; a knowing smile, an understanding glance towards his wife, as if saying see no lightening. Jean follows, her own fingers dabbing in the cool water, years of muscle memory going to work. Her still damp fingers find their home in his palm while Lucien's damp fingers trace her cheek resting at her lips as if each are blessing the other with the waters.
Lucien notices tears sitting in her steel blue eyes. She takes a deep breath willing them away before she gives him the comforting smile that assures him that she will be alright. Blessed with each other, they walk further to take in the splendid beauty of the basilica.
It is early evening as they make their way to Notre Dame. They take the car being dressed for a night of dinner and dance as Lucien puts it. He can't help but have salacious thoughts as he helps Jean from the car. His eyes start at the black heels hitting the ground and make their way up her legs to where the hem of her black dress hits on her thighs as she slides out of the car.
"Lucien, you can wipe that look right off your face. We are heading to a cathedral." Jean chides him but he notices a glint in her eye.
They decide to walk around the perimeter first as the evening mass finishes. The hymns radiating from the organ warms Jean, even Lucien admitting it is an ethereal sound. They are in awe of the beauty and craftsmanship of the medieval structure, the famous gargoyles high above standing guard. They make their way to the door as the throngs of people dissipate. Upon entering it is Jean who goes to the holy water first then turns to Lucien.
"You don't have to do this again. You know, don't want to press luck or anything." Jean's levity genuine. Visiting Sacré Coeur early is making this visit infinitely easier, just another piece of history to see.
"Jean you know I don't mind."
"I know darling. I just don't want your skin to burn from all the holy water." To which Lucien let's out a roaress laugh that has Jean shushing him.
The scent of incense hangs in the air inside the massive cathedral. The sun low in the evening sky shines through the breathtaking stained glass windows. They find their eyes drawn towards the heavens looking at the vaulting and flying buttresses. They walk along the edge, marveling in the artwork, sculptures that adorn the ancient building, lost in time.
When they cross over the threshold, back to the present, the sun is setting. The sky is alive with color. The reds, oranges, purples are as if they are being painted by God's hands for them. Walking over to the edge overlooking the Seine, Lucien wraps himself around his beloved as they breath as one at the majesty before them.
As the colors change before them, Jean turns in his arms. "Thank you my love." The words are simple but are said with such depth and conviction that their true meaning reaches him.
With those four words Lucien knows that His Jean is at peace with herself, with him, with God. That no matter what life puts before her she won't look back with regrets any longer. He has no words that can convey how much this means to him. That he can rid himself of that small fleeting feeling he gets that he is replacing Christopher or God in her life. Their life won't be perfect but it will be full of unconditional love and understanding. It will be their life to lead as they choose, to make what they wish. He bends into her, kissing her deeply as the bells toll.