Author's Note: Thank you very much for your reviews, I'm glad to see that you're still enjoying this Parisian story.

Chapter Twelve

"You smoke?! Your mother had told me that you had quit. Like mother, like daughter...?"

The remark caused Maura to stare blankly at the cigarette that she was now holding. She shrugged. She hadn't smoked for at least fifteen years. Or even more. She couldn't remember. She had quit though. It was true. As a matter of fact, it had never been an addiction. She had begun to smoke because she lacked of everything and she found nicotine to be an odd and dangerous comfort.

"It must be Paris."

Her desire for nicotine had always been stronger in France. Perhaps - or even probably - because of all those things Maura went through when in Paris. She didn't know why the French capital had such impact on her life. First with Anita, and now with Jane. Two decades separated both women but the respective situations looked exactly the same.

"Then you shouldn't come here." Léopoldine poured some tea in two mugs. The silence in the room contrasted with the sound of the beverage as it hit the edge of the delicate porcelain. "Smoking is a terrible habit but I'm going to assume that you know this. You're a medical doctor, after all. Aren't you?"

"And so what? Only artists are allowed to smoke?" Maura nonetheless abandoned her untouched cigarette in the ashtray. She had bought the pack just after emerging back from the tree-lined path where Jane had run away from her. She had needed nicotine like we need a hug except she had felt cold afterwards. Cold and lonely. She crossed her arms against her chest and cast a glance at the living-room. "Nothing has changed, here."

Maura walked towards the couch. She liked Léopoldine's house a lot.

Her aunt was living on Square Montsouris, a cobblestoned alley where many famous artists had lived once. In the 14th arrondissement. The heterogeneity of the architecture was surprising for a city like Paris. Maura found it charming. She liked the unbalanced beauty of the place. The mess that rose from it was perfect.

She sat down and picked up her mug of tea. The rain was still falling hard outside. And loudly. It echoed against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the living-room and brought a gloomy nuance to an already gray day.

Léopoldine looked at the room, at the small sculptures abandoned on the floor. The paintings that she had started but had never finished. The books, the candles. The old hardwood floor.

"I've never liked changes."

That was true. Time had no hold whatsoever on Léopoldine. She was still the same passionate and quiet woman. A brilliant mind. People often said that Maura looked a lot like her. Of course it was anything but a compliment for Maura.

Lies.

Maura liked her aunt. A lot. She had just proved it again in spite of that silence that she had imposed both of them for the past twenty years. Jane had run away and the only clear thing that had showed up in Maura's head just after was a need to go and talk to Léopoldine. It was very telling.

"Would you like to call the hotel in order to know whether she's there?"

Maura shook her head. She had showed up at Léopoldine's door soaked wet, in tears. She had mumbled a semblance of explanation and now that her anxious storm had vanished, Léopoldine tried to bring back logic into her life.

"No. Jane may not speak French very well but she will find her way back to the Lutétia. She's a very independent person. This isn't an issue for her. She will handle it."

"I thought you were together. I mean... That's what your mother had told me and that's what I thought when I saw you yesterday." A quiet and uncertain laugh passed the artist's lips. She sounded disarmed but at peace with herself, with the words that she was saying. "It seemed evident."

Maura smiled at the remark. Out of politeness. She was too focused on the kimono that she was wearing – her clothes were in the dryer – to pay attention to Léopoldine's thoughts.

"Well... Don't trust appearances."

"I don't think it's appearances. I think she loves you the way you love her but you've been way too tactless, Maura. I don't think she'd have run away if you had taken your time instead of blurting it out the way you did."

The roles had been reversed. Léopoldine now showed wisdom when it was exactly what she had lacked of twenty years earlier with Anita. She had learned her lesson. Maura – however – was just as lost except she had been loud with Jane. Too loud.

"It's a disaster." Maura sank her face into her hands. The skin-to-skin contact warmed her up just enough so her pain would subdue. "We're sharing the same suite, the same bed. What am I supposed to do now? Maybe she's actually already left. Maybe she's at the airport waiting for the next flight to Boston. And what will she tell them once there? What will she tell everyone? She's supposed to be here for a month. It's barely been five days."

The oddest five days Maura had ever lived.

"If she's gone when you go back to your hotel then everything will be clear... Just as if she's still here, in Paris. Either way, it's a declaration, Maura. A declaration that you will have to accept."

Maura had always been unlucky in love. She had had bright days but they had never lasted long enough for her to remember them. She had learned to live among gray, menacing clouds. Among good-byes and failures. She wasn't good at dealing with human beings anyway. She didn't have what it took in order to understand the complexity of relationships.

What had happened earlier on was anything but a surprise. She had screwed it, she knew it. Jane wasn't to blame. As a matter of fact, Maura felt bad for her friend. Jane had been forced into something that she had either never thought about or had denied strongly. Vehemently.

What Jane was going through right now looked similar to what Maura had gone through when Léopoldine had pushed her to admit that she had feelings for another girl.

"Don't give up, Maura. Don't make the same mistake. You know, the one you made with Anita. I have my part of responsibility in what happened and I assume it but... But you ran away from her because you were too scared to face your feelings. Don't do this twice. You can't afford it. You're forty years old now, besides. You're strong enough to face a love story."

"What do you know about love stories? You've always been single."

Léopoldine didn't take the remark badly. An amused smile lit up her traits. It embraced her eyes lovingly. She took a sip of tea before answering Maura's question.

"I'm a lonely person. You know this. But... But that doesn't mean I've never had love stories. Just because I prefer to have affairs doesn't mean there is no feelings involved."

A mistress. Léopoldine had always been the woman who remains in the shadow, the one men meet once a week in complete anonymity. The woman who has no name.

Maura didn't mind even if she wondered if it wasn't just the only way her aunt had found to make sure that she would never get hurt by romantic reasons.

Léopoldine had never got married, of course. She had never had a child either. Perhaps she had had a few abortions. Perhaps. Her life was a delicate mystery, just like her temper. It was oddly fascinating.

"Maybe I'm just like you. I'm lonely, you know. Very lonely."

The artist burst out laughing. She sounded young, all of a sudden. Her voice was bright and clear, a bit high-pitched. She shook her head at Maura with an almost maternal sweetness.

"No, you're not. You wish you were, it's different. You've tried to be lonely, to convince yourself that it's who you are but... You're not, Maura. You're not a lonely person. You're not made for this. If only you could see yourself when you're with Jane... Then you'd understand all this immediately."

But Jane doesn't want me. She's never wanted me. She's accepted me in her life as a friend, a very good one. I'm honored by the choice she made. Yet it's this choice that breaks my heart now. It's not enough. I want more, a lot more. It's not a whim but a necessity.

I'm angry with you, Léopoldine, because I'm angry with myself. Your clumsiness hurt me. It caused a lot of damage in the building of my identity. The way you pushed me to admit that I had feelings for Anita was traumatic, because I wasn't ready for all the things it implies. Except time has passed by and I'm fine with it now. Thus the anger I feel towards you is ridiculous. I should have turned the page by now.

I wish I had.

Then I wouldn't feel like I'm wasting time and opportunities. One day I'll feel like talking to you – spending time with you – but you won't be here anymore. It'll be too late.

I'm sorry. I want to get over it. I honestly do.

"What I did was led by despair and nothing else. A selfish despair. Jane is leaving for Quantico. At the end of the month, she'll start a brand new life and I won't be part of it. I didn't even believe in the possibility of her kissing me in return... I lost my mind over a fantasy."

"You've missed your career, Maura. You should have been a tragedian." As harsh as the words may sound, Léopoldine's kiss on her niece's cheek swept the bitterness away. She was joking. Her fingertips brushed Maura's nape lovingly. "If only you dared... Even as a child, you didn't dare. You didn't dare to move, you didn't dare to try. You didn't dare to live."

Maura shrugged. Her aunt was right.

"What can I say? It's just the way I am."

I don't dare because it hurts. Why would I inflict myself even more pain if I can avoid it? Life is just fine if you're careful. Fine and reassuring. I'm not adventurous. I've never been.