Author's Note: Thank you very much/muchas gracias/merci beaucoup for all your reviews; the bitterness of the beginning will fade away soon, don't be worried. I want every chapter to be sweeter and sweeter.
Chapter Two
"Please, call me Jane."
She wasn't a madame, even less a mademoiselle. If Maura owned the innate aura it took to be called mademoiselle, Jane was born to be a plain Jane and she was really fine with it. A discreet but honest smile lit up the concierge's face. It even reached his eyes that began to sparkle. He was delighted by the innocence of the remark. Jane's request was genuine but it didn't fit. She was staying at a palace – in France – and there were rules to follow.
"Any plan for the day... Miss Jane?"
Jane had left the suite a little while ago. She had discovered the restaurant main room for breakfast and she was quite eager to now see the rest of the hotel. Thus she had patiently waited for Maura to go have a shower before satisfying her piqued curiosity. The Lutétia was beautiful. It reminded Jane of a very British hotel, one that would come straight out of an Agatha Christie's novel. Too afraid to be mocked, she had kept such comparison for herself though.
"We're going to the Jardin du Luxembourg." A surge of pride caused Jane to smile: not only had she managed to remember the name of the place Maura wanted to show her but she had also pronounced it correctly. The employee couldn't guess but he had just witnessed a little miracle in itself. "I want to see the Statue of Liberty."
"Already homesick?"
Jane laughed lightly. She shook her head. She had woken up to a big blue sky and to the brownish leaves of the trees outside dancing to the murmur of the wind. She was anything but homesick. She was impatient, curious and extremely happy to be in Paris. She had never said it to anyone but visiting the French capital was an old dream of hers and making it come true with Maura by her side went beyond her craziest expectations.
"I'm just very curious to see it."
"Don't expect anything big though. The one you'll see is a small-scale model. However, you can find a much bigger one in another part of the city but I will let your guide tell you where it is. Mademoiselle Maura is the best guide you can ask for."
Mademoiselle Maura.
The old fashioned phrase was singular and unusual but Jane had to admit that she liked it. It fit the context, it suits the luxury of the hotel and the extreme politeness the staff showed towards their guests.
"Maura is a regular guest, isn't she?" Jane tried to guess the concierge's age. In vain. François – that was his name – had salt-and-pepper hair but something about him was young nonetheless. She had come across him after a quick stop by the lounge and the two of them had started chatting. "You call her by her first name..."
Maura received a special treatment at the Lutétia. Jane had immediately noticed it. Everyone called her by her name while the other guests were always Mr., Mrs. or Ms.
François rolled his eyes in a dramatic effect.
"I even used to call her Little Maura when she was a toddler. She made her first steps in the lobby on a very hot day of July '77. She's family if I may dare to say it."
...
People walked fast. A lot faster than in Boston or even than in New York City. Jane observed a dark-haired woman who was almost running now in spite of wearing stilettos. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry, everyone but her and Maura. They had all the time in the world and Jane loved it.
"I thought you were gone." Hands in the pockets of her trench coat, Maura cast a glance at her friend. A playful smile appeared on her lips. "On your own."
"I'm adventurous but not that much. My French's rusty... I need you to be around in order to survive the first few days." The street they had taken was narrow but the sun still managed to pierce through the buildings and it warmed up Jane's back lovingly. Were these Hausmannian buildings? She couldn't tell for they didn't look as impressive as the ones opposite the hotel. "I was talking to François."
"Talking about what?"
Maura had walked out of the bathroom to find an empty suite. The first thing she had checked was the closet, just to make sure that Jane's suitcase was still in it. It was stupid as Jane didn't have a reason to run away but it was the first scenario that had developed in Maura's head. Of course she had kept it for herself.
"About the size of the Statue of Liberty and the first steps of a certain someone..."
It wasn't embarrassing. As a matter of fact, it was the most random stage that every human being reached early in their life. Yet Maura froze the second she understood what Jane meant.
She was tired. Emotionally and physically. She hadn't slept well at all and she felt jet lagged. Thankfully the slightly oppressive melancholy of the night before had vanished but it had been replaced by a confusing fragility.
Yet was it enough to explain her reaction to Jane's words?
Maybe.
"What?! It's kinda classy to make your first steps in the lobby of a palace. Actually, it's... It's so you!" Jane's laugh filled the air with warmth. Her eyes were sparkling now and she looked excitingly at Maura. "Why would you feel ashamed of it?"
"I don't feel ashamed!" Maura motioned the gates of the public garden. The Lutétia was located at a very short distance. A bare ten-minute walk maybe. "It's just... It's not the kind of information that I want you to remember about Paris."
Memories.
They needed to create memories because time was running against them. It would be too late in a month. They wouldn't live in the same city anymore, not even in the same state. It was a tad stressful but Maura felt the urge to create these instants now in order to make sure that she would be able to handle their separation.
Her first steps were a waste of time and a waste of memories. She wanted Jane to understand what it felt like to live in Paris. She wanted her friend to feel the city under her feet, and to hear its unique pace in the depth of her heart.
She wanted to fill their days with laughter and sun. With a thousand smiles and delicate conversations. And none of this could be linked to a past that Jane wasn't part of; a past which nobody cared about because it had vanished a long time ago already.
"It's still a lot more glamorous than my first steps."
They stopped at a traffic light opposite the gates of the park. The trees of the garden created in 1612 by Marie de Médicis - Queen of France as the second wife of King Henry IV of France - were still green in spite of the fall being very present in the city.
Maura swept away a quiet disappointment: she had hoped that Jane would walk through the garden while the leaves of the trees would fly around them in brown and red shades. The Jardin du Luxembourg looked mesmerizing under the light of the fall.
"Why? Where did you make your first steps?"
Jane adjusted her sunglasses. The air was chilly but the sun was nonetheless very bright. She barely cast a glance at Maura before passing her arm under her friend's as the traffic light changed and they resumed their walking.
"On an ice rink."
"What?!"
"Never mind." Jane laughed. "Now tell me more about this public garden. Not about the Statue of Liberty though. François spoiled the fun already."
You touch me and I collapse. The world stops turning and everything becomes quiet even if your touch lasts a second only. The warmth of your body passes underneath my skin. My heart begins to beat faster. I forget everything. I wish you knew about the reactions you cause to my body, Jane. Yet at the same time I'm desperate for you to never know about them. It would scare you and I would feel ashamed.
I have walked through le Jardin du Luxembourg more times than I can remember. I know the Luxembourg Palace – that is now the French Senate – like the back of my heart. I know every alley, every spot of this park. How the chess players quietly focus on their game in the morning by the roseraie. How you're supposed to keep your distance with the bee houses if you're allergic; there is even a note about it on a tree.
Yet the moment we pass the gates together, the place ceases to sound familiar. It tastes of first times instead, of moments that you know will be unforgettable ones.
You are pressing my forearm. Gently. Lovingly.
And it's all I care about.
"Are we going to see the model sailboats on the circular basin as you told me about this morning?" Jane's dark eyes sparkled in anticipation. "And nobody steals them?"
"Why would someone steal them? People are civilized, Jane!"
"... 'Cause you can't trust the French."
The street disappears in our backs and I suddenly have the feeling to have landed in another universe where neither Boston nor Quantico exist. It's just you and me. The two of us. We take the main alley that leads to the basin that overlooks the Senate. You smile when you see it.
Will you remember this? Will you remember this the way I will?
Rocked by the quietness of the place and by the warmth of Maura's body against hers, Jane stopped speaking. Words weren't needed anymore.
She may have held her friend's arm, it was still Maura who guided her through the green arcade of the trees in the immensity of a park that stiffled the sound of the traffic. Appearances are tricky.
She felt fine, so fine that she didn't need to fill the air of words nor of any sound. The silence that wrapped them up was enough to comfort her.
She was glad to be there and now.