The City of Love_A Medieval Time Travel Romance Page 3
“You’re right. I’m going to ‘live in the present moment’ or whatever your mindfulness coach keeps telling you,” Sophie teased. It was a constant source of amusement to her that her twin would put any confidence in the wishy-washy idea of mindfulness and the laws of attraction.
“Don’t laugh, it keeps me sane,” Claire said.
“In that case, I definitely need to try it. I’m feeling a little insane right now!”
By the time she put the phone down, Sophie felt calmer. Claire always had that effect on her. She lay back, closing her eyes for a moment and marveling at how comfortable the hotel bed was. Although she was weary from the traveling and the nightmare airport experience, her mind was still restless, and she wasn’t ready for sleep. Travelling threw off her body clock.
She got up and unpacked her cases, stowing her makeup in the dressing table drawers. There was an information booklet about the hotel laying on the polished mahogany. Sophie picked it up, reading about the check-out and breakfast times. On the back of the booklet, there was some historical information about the hotel. According to the writing, the hotel had always been an inn or a hotel, ever since it was built in the 1300’s. They had housed some interesting guests over the centuries, including British nobles, and supposedly even Shakespeare.
Sophie wondered if that were true. It would be difficult to prove, she supposed. She wondered what the building had been like back then. The beautiful windows would have been the same, she presumed, admiring yet again the graceful arches and intricate design. She stood and walked over to the window, running her hand over the glass that must have had been replaced many times over the years.
Notre Dame looked beautiful in the setting sun, and she decided she should get dressed and go for a walk to get a proper look at the most famous cathedral in the world. She’d wanted to see it in person ever since they’d looked at pictures and discussed Notre Dame’s history in her university French class. Besides, it would be a good time to use her French in a native setting. She thought of Annaliese and how wonderful it must have been to learn the language from native speakers and use it every day.
She pulled on the tank top, soft baby blue sweater, and new black Lululemon trek trousers she’d laid out earlier. Her black hair was still slightly damp and had begun to wave, the ends curling gently where they touched her shoulders. She tucked the front strands behind her ears and inspected her reflection again.
After the bath and without the make-up she looked a little brighter, and she decided to go bare-faced to see Notre Dame and grab something to eat. It was her first night, seducing attractive French men could wait for now. She grabbed her purse and slipped on a pair of baby blue hi-tops that felt like heaven after the tortuous heels. Her buttery, soft beige leather Coach purse finished the outfit off nicely. She added a quick spritz of her favorite Tom Ford Santal Blush perfume, and she was ready to see some of the sights of Paris. Maybe she’d also check out the café that Annaliese had recommended. Just for the food and a glass of wine, not the hot guys. At least, not yet.
Her eyes landed on the room service menu, lying with the other informational material on the dressing table. For a moment she wondered if she should get into bed with a book and order room service. Then, she caught sight of Notre Dame again through the window. No, she was definitely going to see the grand cathedral and sample some of wine in a little café. A glass or two of wine would help her sleep, she reasoned. Resolved, she tucked her key card into her purse and strode out into the corridor.
Chapter 3
Edouard stood among the stream of people in the familiar and yet unfamiliar streets. Notre Dame still rose high above the buildings, its towers and rose windows a thing of impressive beauty. The Seine still wound its way through the city, and the Quai housed a market like always. Yet, there were so many more buildings that he didn’t recognize, and so many people on the streets. It would be difficult to just stand still and not get swept away with them like a leaf being swept downstream.
He wasn’t really there, though—this was simply a dream—and he wasn’t standing still now anyway. His eyes were locked onto a dark-haired woman making her way through the crowds. In all of his travels and dreams this was the first time his ring had reacted to somebody so clearly. It was heating up on his hand, tingling and practically pulling him towards her. Despite this being just a dream, his hands were damp, and he rubbed his palms on his trousers.
His eyes followed her frantically through the crowd, trying to keep up, although he could probably have simply followed the pull of the ring if he lost sight of her. Still, he was too scared to lose her now. There were so many people, and what if he did lose sight? If he couldn’t find her? He had to be sure. This wasn’t his first time following this woman. He was retracing his steps, re-doing the dream to mark it all. Map the area and secure his knowledge of the woman—and the time period.
He’d spent years looking for her, searching and searching through strange times to find the one person who was meant for him. He’d almost given up, and he’d been through a lot in the time since the curse had begun. It had only been the wise counsel of Father Duprix, the priest who’d saved him that terrible night in Notre Dame, that had kept him searching.
His friends had tried to help, even going as far as to appoint a white witch to try and break the curse. That had been to no avail, and the curse was so strong that it had rebounded on the witch, who was now doomed to a life of unhappiness too until Edouard found his one true love. He expected she would be almost as pleased as him that his search had finally shown signs of bearing fruit.
Father Duprix had been angry at the witch’s interference. He had chastised Edouard afterwards, warning him not to try and get out of the curse any other way than finding his true love. “It is your destiny,” he’d said. “it’s bigger than a gypsy curse or a run of ill luck. You can’t just break it with some witch’s magic!”
He’d spent most nights searching in his dreams. He’d dreamed of so many different time periods, searching desperately every evening until he was exhausted. Sleep gave him no comfort and he didn’t awake feeling rested, but rather hopeless about finding the one he was looking for.. He’d thought it was going to prove impossible, that perhaps he’d never find her. Or worse, that the rings were just a cruel hoax to enhance his misery.
He’d taken several trips through time to pursue fine prospects, just not good enough to cause the ring to burn with that unique, telling heat. The women had turned out to be suitable. And nothing more. The rings somehow reminded him that he was searching for remarkable love, not adequate. The trips had given him some knowledge of different periods of time—or history, from a certain perspective—but he’d never been completely comfortable this far ahead of his own time. Everything was so…so weird. How could he possibly match to someone from so far ahead of him? He’d had this thought often. And it almost defeated his current pursuit before it began.
A woman walked past him, and her ears appeared to be plugged, with some white cords hanging from them, bringing his thoughts back to the present dream. He’d seen these on a few of the crowd and wondered if they were a treatment for some ailment. He assumed the person was a woman; it was sometimes difficult to tell as almost everybody wore trousers of some description, and strange close-fitted clothing. Some women wore what seemed to be dresses, but they were barely more than undershifts. In fact, he thought, undershifts would have been more modest!
He panicked a little when he realized he’d lost sight of the woman he was tracking, his pulse quickening as he scanned the crowd trying desperately to pick her out. He didn’t know which way to turn until he closed his eyes and focused solely on the ring. Opening his eyes again, he knew which direction to walk in. He hurried as fast as his legs would carry him. He wasn’t as strong or as fast here as he was back home, but he managed to move quickly enough to find her again.
He spotted her glossy dark hair as she walked along the Quai. His heart skipped a beat as he caught sight of
her anew. Surely, this was a good sign that she was special. She caused his heart to flutter at every turn. Seconds after he spotted her, she stopped to take a look at Notre Dame across the water. He relaxed when she stopped—it gave him time to catch up with her. He hurried across, stopping a few feet away next to a stand selling hot drinks and pastries. The smell of the pastries was intoxicating, and he licked his lips, imagining what they would taste like. Why not enjoy some of the delicious food of this time? He thought. They had some very nice food that he hadn’t experienced in his own time.
He shifted from foot to foot. This was the closest he’d been, and he could now make out her delicate features and upturned nose. She was very pretty. He wanted to get closer to her. The ring was going crazy now and he was absolutely certain she was the one. In all of his dreams he’d never been seen by anybody. He was a dream visitor only, not really there. Not until he chose to travel. But what if she could see him? What if he scared her away?
He couldn’t risk that, so he stayed a distance back, watching carefully and trying to take in all the details he could so that when he came back it would be at the right time, in the right place, and he could formulate a plan. Madame Petellier and Sabine could help, they’d know what to do. Father Duprix would also give him advice, but he would never help in the practical ways Edouard needed the two women for.
This was it, the end of the curse and the beginning of the rest of his life. He was so close to breaking the curse that he could almost taste it. The scene shimmered, and he tried to hold on a little longer to sleep. The longer he stayed, the more details he could remember, and everything would help when it came to implementing his plan. The sun was rising back in his time, streaming through his window and rousing him from his sleep, regardless of his wishes. He held on just long enough to see her begin to walk along the Quai again before he woke in his bed, with the sun in his eyes and the image of her face burned into his memory.
Chapter 4
Ambling along the corridor towards the hotel elevators, Sophie stopped to look at some framed pictures on the wall. Some were black and white sketches, others were black and white photographs, all depicting the building she was staying in through the ages. The distinctive Gothic-style windows and ornate, heavy wooden door stood out proudly in each of the images. The only real difference in any of the images was the scene surrounding the building. In one very old-looking yellowed image, she could see Notre Dame in the background, but it was only partially built.
In that image, there were no buildings next to the hotel, but there were horses outside and a couple of men dressed in medieval-style clothing holding what looked like tankards of ale. There was also a small figure in the background, partially obscured by a horse. It looked like a woman, although Sophie couldn’t make out her features or any detail about her. She wondered who had drawn the picture and how the hotel proprietors had found it. Maybe it had been here in the building ever since it was drawn.
As she moved along the line of six or seven images, the last few changed from sketches to photographs. In one of them, there was a woman outside the building again. This time the hotel building was flanked by two other, more modern-looking buildings, and Notre Dame was again obvious in the background. Sophie squinted at the woman in the picture. She was dressed in what looked like mid-nineteenth century clothing, her hands clasped in front of her. Her resemblance to the hotel receptionist was incredible. It was very surreal, looking at the face in the pictures from so long ago that looked exactly like the woman who checked her in a couple of hours ago.
Even without the two suitcases, the elevator was a claustrophobically tight squeeze. The hotel receptionist peered around the enormous bouquet of roses resting on top of the desk and smiled as Sophie passed through reception. “How is your room, Mademoiselle?” she asked pleasantly.
“It’s very comfortable, thank you.” Sophie returned her smile.
“If you’re going out for a walk, I can offer some recommendations,” she suggested, rearranging the roses and plucking off a couple of stray leaves that had started to turn brown.
“Well, I certainly want to see Notre Dame,” Sophie said.
“Mais oui, of course.” The receptionist smiled, her kindly eyes twinkling. Sophie could see how she must have been a very beautiful woman in her younger years, and her emerald green eyes were still captivating, especially when she smiled. “It is very beautiful, and the stalls outside have many treasures .It’s a perfect place for a walk. Plus, there will be enough to see and do there to keep you busy the whole evening.”
Sophie nodded. “Thank you…” she glanced at the woman’s name badge that glittered silver against her pristine black skirt suit, “Helene,” she added.
“You are welcome, Sophie.” Helene beamed before continuing to tidy the reception desk.
Sophie turned to leave, but hesitated. “I was looking at the pictures in the corridor earlier.”
Helene nodded, waiting for her to continue.
“One of them was very old, over a hundred years old, but there was a woman standing outside the building and she looked a lot like you.”
Helene smiled. “The hotel has been in my family for many generations. It will be my great-grandmother in the picture. We have a lot of family resemblance, n’est pas?”
“Very much so.” Sophie marveled at the incredible likeness of Helene and her great-grandmother. The resemblance was even stronger than that of Sophie and Claire, although granted, they weren’t actually identical twins.
Sophie wished Helene a pleasant evening, and then pulled open the heavy wooden door, which took a little effort. Then, she strode out into the early evening. The streets were still bustling with couples and tourists, but this was a much more pleasant experience for Sophie than her hobble through the thriving streets earlier. In her comfortable, casual clothing and flat shoes she could take the time to genuinely appreciate what was around her. The crowds were in a jovial mood, people practically floating through the streets in a mix of excitement and joy. Sophie felt a little lost among all those exuberantly happy people, a small sliver of her earlier sadness and confusion still lodged in her heart.
She succumbed to the enticing scent of the boulangeries and stopped to get a pain au chocolat. They were one of her favorite treats from the coffee shop near her home in California. As she bit into the buttery, flaky pastry, the warm chocolate oozed onto her tongue, and she almost let out a little moan of delight. This was definitely the most delicious pain au chocolat she had ever tasted. When she’d finished it off, she wanted to go back and get another one, but she hadn’t eaten dinner yet so didn’t want to spoil her appetite. With the sweet chocolate dissolving some of the residual sadness she’d been carrying, she set off to see Notre Dame in the best mood she’d been in since she arrived in Paris.
She made her way to the Quai de Montebello, joining the steady stream of tourists and Parisians strolling along, taking photographs and chatting in small groups. The Seine flowed lazily on her left, and the Ile De la Cite appeared to be magically floating in the river. The effect was stunning, and it reminded Sophie of a storybook she’d had as a child about a magical fairy kingdom. The imposing Gothic architecture of Notre Dame added to the imagery, sitting as regally and beautifully on the floating Ile as any fairy castle.
She stopped for a moment, snapping pictures on her phone and trying to avoid getting other people in the pictures and spoiling the effect. She flicked through the images, disappointed that she couldn’t quite capture the whole effect in the photographs. She supposed that was what Claire meant when she was talked about ‘living in the present moment.’ The images were lovely, but they didn’t provoke the same feeling as standing here in real life.
Sophie wondered what it was like to live here in Paris when Notre Dame was built. If it could evoke such a reaction from well-travelled tourists used to skyscrapers and incredible feats of engineering, how must it have been to gaze upon such a majestic building at a time when most other buildings
were less impressive?
She continued her stroll, enjoying the sounds and the smells of Paris as well as the impressive sights. Everywhere she looked was bustling with people chatting and laughing, eating and drinking. Nobody paid any attention to the girl walking around on her own, and she felt strangely invisible, like an observer and not a participant in the Parisian evening. The atmosphere was busy, yet relaxed, and street performers played French music on old accordions. Fresh-faced tourists and wizened Parisians alike tapped their feet in time with the music as they sat outside open-air cafes sipping café au lait and large glasses of rich, red wine. Sophie observed everyone around her chatting away, a little sad that she was on her own and not in a couple or group to enjoy this experience with other people.
She took a seat on an empty bench and carried on watching the people around her for a while, trying to guess nationalities by the way they dressed. It was a fun game for a short time, but eventually her eyes were drawn to a young couple strolling hand in hand, who must have been a similar age to herself. They stopped for a moment to admire Notre Dame, in the same way Sophie had done just moments before. Sophie noticed the girl’s beautiful baby blue Michael Kors bag, thinking it would go very well with the sweater she was wearing. Then, suddenly, her attention was pulled away from the beautiful bag by the girl’s boyfriend dropping to one knee and pulling out a ring box from his pocket.
The girl gasped delightedly, a hand clamped over her mouth. Several tourists stopped and clapped or cheered as the boy animatedly talking to the delighted girl. Sophie couldn’t hear what he was saying, but she imagined it was an impassioned speech about love and spending the rest of their lives together. She doubted it would be the case, though.