The Last Time I Saw Paris - Lynn Sheene [66]
Children kneeled on the edge of a large octagonal pool. With Maman keeping a watchful eye, they dangled over the water directing small wooden sailboats with prods from worn sticks. Claire wondered how many of their papas had been killed or were prisoners in Germany.
She ducked into an allée, a perfect green lane of trees and shrubs. Birds chirped over her head in the manicured planar trees. With the bouquet of white roses in her arms, she could almost imagine this as a perfect spring day in Paris. Glinting through the branches, the sun traced a lace of light and shadow on the grass beneath her feet. The air smelled sweet, of fresh growth, roses and jasmine, and moist earth. She headed toward the carousel midway through the park.
Of course, if this were that sort of Parisian spring day, she’d be meeting a lover.
She glanced down at the roses in her arms. The worn envelope that was slipped inside at the Métro station was hidden and secure. But even after a year of passing messages, Claire couldn’t help but feel a wave of irritation. She had worked hard on this bouquet. It came out particularly well. Roses with peonies, white on white, with a bit of green ivy wound around and peeking out. It would look so elegant in a silver vase. She hoped whoever dug the package out would at least take a moment to enjoy the beauty before they tossed it aside to carry out whatever orders the flowers hid.
The light gravel crunched softly under her feet. At the end of the allée, the golden dome of Les Invalides posed against the blue sky in the distance. Finches flitted between branches overhead. Her face relaxed into a soft smile, her pace slowed.
“Charming place, isn’t it?”
Claire started, felt her heart leap in her chest. Another stride and she managed to hide a smile. She turned to Grey, her face blank. “This is a surprise.”
He wore a thick grey wool trench coat over an unraveling black sweater and worn grey pants. His boots were scuffed and looked as though he had walked through a pond to get here. A beard masked his sharp cheekbones and strong jaw. A dark cap was pulled low on his head. Harsh lines radiated from the shadowed edges of his eyes. He may have basked in his lover’s arms these last few months, but it didn’t look like it suited him well. His dark eyes stared so intently at her face, a warmth crept up her neck. She turned away from him and continued her stroll.
Grey took two long strides, fell in beside her. He started to say something then strangled the words before they escaped. After a few moments, he spoke. “Things have changed since we last met.”
Claire turned to look at him, searched his face. She was prepared to handle a dangerous delivery with grace. The codes for each situation, all memorized, were on her lips. But, Grey. Feelings she’d muzzled came surging up inside her like hungry dogs. She couldn’t decide what to say; she said nothing.
“The war, I mean. The Americans,” he said.
Business, of course. She had heard about Pearl Harbor the day after it happened from a Nazi soldier. A grinning Wehrmacht, who checked her papers at Hôtel Emeraude. Ah, Américaine, eh? Your navy sank yesterday. She shrugged at Grey. “It was inevitable, I suppose.” She had made her own peace over the months. Her war was here.
“Perhaps. But I am glad the Americans have joined the battle.” He rested his hand on her arm, for just a breath.
The heat from his hand warmed her skin even after he moved away. Her whole body was sensitized; she felt the breeze on her legs, the sun on her face. They turned left where two allée crossed, and headed toward a tall statue at the far end. Just another Parisian couple finding peace where they could. Claire stole a look at him out of the corner of her eye and caught him doing the same.
A smile at the edge of his mouth then. “This is one of my favorite places.”
Claire felt something unclench inside her. “Tell me, Grey, what is it about this place you like?”
“Louis XIV resided at the Tuileries Palace while Versailles was under construction. His garden designer, the great Andr