Turn Back Time (The Full Circle Series Book 1) Page 4

  After the waiter served their food and they both ordered a glass of wine, Naomi asked, “What did you think of the Wall of Love? Le mur des je t’aime.”

  “I think it’s very romantic. Four hundred square feet of blue lava tiles with ‘I love you’ written on it in more than three hundred different languages. With all the rose bushes planted in front of it, it’s like a garden dedicated to love.”

  Naomi gave Stella a thoughtful look and said, “Do you believe there’s only one person out there who’s meant just for you?” She made air quotes. “Your soul mate.”

  “Yes.” At least I used to think so. “And you?”

  “Well, I guess it depends on how you define soul mate,” Naomi propped her chin in the palm of her hand. “If you say it’s someone you’re predestined to be with, then I’d say no. If it’s someone who understands you, who gets under your skin like no other person, someone you can’t walk away from without being in physical pain, then maybe.”

  “So, does it mean you believe in soul mates or not?” Stella repeated her question.

  “I don’t know.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Stella—July 2018

  “I

  can’t believe we’re up this early. At least we’re getting first dibs on the breakfast buffet,” Stella said, and filled her plate with fresh fruit, some scrambled eggs, and toasted slices of fresh baguette before helping herself to coffee from a large urn. It looked and smelled like regular coffee, so she added sugar and skim milk to her cup.

  “How did you sleep last night?” Naomi chose two fresh croissants with butter and jam and asked the waiter for a café au lait. “After our foot-soaks, I didn’t hear a peep out of you.”

  “I was out as soon as my head hit the pillow. I couldn’t even keep my eyes open long enough to read more than a page. How ’bout you?”

  “Same. I didn’t even manage to say my prayers,” Naomi said, straight-faced, and bit into her first croissant.

  Stella burst out laughing. Naomi was many things, but not the praying-before-bed type. “The last time you prayed was when you thought the guy on your Napa vineyard tour knocked you up. When was that? Five years ago?” Stella chewed on a small chunk of pineapple.

  Naomi shivered and grimaced. “Ugh, not one of my proudest moments. Let’s not talk about it.”

  “So. What’re we doing today? You made it sound like a big secret last night.”

  “Yup. Today, you have to follow my lead.”

  “Okay...As long as you have more bath salts.”

  “I sure do! And the first item on our list is taking the subway to…” Naomi paused for effect. “No, I’m not gonna tell you.”

  “Then don’t. But is it safe to travel by subway in Paris?”

  “As safe as in any other big city. Millions of people take it every day. Stop worrying.”

  Less than an hour later they emerged from the dark tunnels of the subway system and stepped into the bright sunlight of the gorgeous Sunday morning.

  “I don’t see many tourists. It looks as if it’s just locals walking their dogs and enjoying a cup of coffee.” Stella looked around while they walked toward tall buildings with a wide terrace between them.

  “Not for long. The first tour buses will be here soon.” Naomi pulled her to a stop and said, “Close your eyes.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it. I promise you won’t regret it,” Naomi took her elbow. “I’ll guide you.”

  After a few cautious shuffling steps, Naomi said, “Open your eyes!”

  “Wow!” Despite the already hot day, Stella had goose bumps and rubbed her arms.

  For the second time in two days, Paris lay at their feet. And right in front of them, the Eiffel Tower stretched high into the blue sky.

  “It looks as if I can just reach out and touch it.”

  When they reached the end of the open stone platform, she said, “But it’s much farther away than it seems at first. All the way on the other side of the Seine.”

  “Yeah, it’s a good twenty- to thirty-minute walk from here,” Naomi confirmed, then pointed to the buildings around them. “Here’s a bit of background about where we are. We’re standing on the terrace of the Palais de Chaillot. The wings to our left and right are part of the palace too. The huge park between us and the Eiffel Tower is called the Trocadéro Gardens.”

  “Why is the building called Palais de Chaillot, but the subway station and the park are called Trocadéro?”

  “This used to be the site of a village called Chaillot. The hill of Chaillot was first arranged for the 1867 World’s Fair. For the 1878 World’s Fair, the Palais du Trocadéro was built as a concert hall and to hold meetings of international organizations.” Naomi took a breath and continued, “For the World’s Fair of 1937, the old Palais du Trocadéro was partly demolished and rebuilt, and the Palais de Chaillot now stands in its place.”

  “Wasn’t the Eiffel Tower also built for the World’s Fair?”

  “Yes, but for the 1889 Fair. I guess they loved their fairs in those days.”

  “Interesting… When did you learn about all this?” Stella asked.

  “Well, since I’m working in the travel business, I’m expected to know a few things. But everything I just recited with such eloquence,” Naomi smirked, “will be forgotten in a few days. My brain only retains this kind of information short term. But it sounded professional, didn’t it?”

  “No doubt! Now let’s go through the pretty park and over to the other side of the river.”

  Thirty minutes later, standing under the impressive iron structure of the Eiffel Tower, Stella gasped. “Look at the size of each of the four legs. The tower looked enormous when we were over there,” she pointed back to the Trocadéro, “but now I feel smaller than an ant. Are we going up?”

  “I thought we’d skip it this weekend, because we had some grand views of the city already. Maybe next weekend? My plan was to go on a one-hour boat tour on the Seine, then let one of the hop-on hop-off buses drive us around.”

  “Perfect. Where do we need to go to get on the boat?” Stella rubbed her hands.

  “Don’t tell me you’re cold? It has to be at least eighty degrees.”

  “No, I just can’t believe I’m really here. It’s surreal. And thrilling!”

  “Then let’s go. We’ve lots to do today.” Naomi pointed in the general direction and led the way.

  They bought combination tickets, which were valid for both the boat and the sightseeing bus and were soon seated on one of the medium-sized, one-level boats.

  “How far is this cruise taking us?” Stella asked.

  “This one takes us past the Notre-Dame cathedral,” Naomi explained. “Each way is about half an hour. We could get off the boat where it turns around, but it makes more sense if we stay for the round-trip and then get on the bus at the Eiffel Tower stop.”

  “Makes no difference to me—I’ll follow your lead.”

  “Do you want to get the audio guide?” Naomi asked.

  “No, I want to just look around, take lots of pictures, and read later about the buildings we pass.”

  “Me too. I can’t stand those germ-infested audio guides. They give me the creeps,” Naomi shuddered.

  For the next hour they kept their conversation to a minimum, enjoying the views and pointing out landmarks to each other.

  By the time they got off the boat it was close to lunchtime, so they found a little cafeteria-style restaurant near the quay and bought sandwiches and bottled water.

  “It was the right decision to skip the Eiffel Tower in favor of taking the boat tour. It’s so relaxing to be on the water and to let the scenery float by,” Stella said.

  “And a different perspective, too. I like how we passed under all the bridges. Did you see those beach-like areas on the sides of the river?”

  “Let’s google what they are.” Stella pulled out her phone, and, after a quick search, read aloud, “I
t’s called Paris Plages. Every July and August, roads along the banks of the Seine are closed off and artificial sand beaches are created, including palm trees, swimming pools, lawn chairs and umbrellas. Also, various activities are held there, including concerts and sports events.”

  “It’s a neat idea! Wouldn’t it be something for American cities to copy?”

  “You’re right, but I doubt it’ll happen anytime soon. Well, we have the Schuylkill River Trail at home,” Stella said, “but that’s boring compared to this beach scene.”

  “You can’t even compare the two. But—different topic—did you see all the brides this morning? I think there were at least four or five wedding parties posing for pictures between the Trocadéro and the Eiffel Tower.”

  “And I noticed a few couples who got engaged.”

  Naomi hummed the first notes of the Wedding March, then said, “I’ve told you before, and I’ll say it again. I find the whole ‘getting down on your knee’ nonsense stupid. If—and it’s a big if—I ever get married, I wanna pick out my own ring to make sure I get the one I like, and not the hand-me-down from grumpy old great-aunt Hilda. Then I’d go to the nearest Justice of the Peace and say my ‘I do,’ after which I’d jump on my lucky new husband’s motorcycle and we’d take off on our honeymoon.”

  “A motorcycle?” Stella almost choked on a bite of her sandwich.

  “Well, I guess a convertible would do in a pinch.”

  “So, first you say you’re not sure you want to get married, and now you’re telling me the details of your dream wedding. Which one is it?”

  “I guess if the right man came along, I could be persuaded to give it a try. But I don’t see one on the horizon, so don’t go buy your bridesmaid dress yet.” Naomi raised her water bottle and grinned at Stella. “Here’s an idea. Why don’t you get married first, and I’ll see how it goes? If it goes well, I might think about it. Maybe.”

  “Well, since husband pickings are slim to nonexistent for both of us,” Stella looked at her left-hand ring finger, then at Naomi and said, “maybe we’ll move in together, have twenty cats, and our tombstones will say They lived a purrfect life.”

  “I’d rather marry the next guy I meet than live with twenty cats. One would be one too many for me.” Naomi put her half-empty water bottle in her purse and said, “Let’s go, missy. Break’s over. Off to the bus.”

  After securing seats on the upper level of the double-decker bus, Stella said, “So, where are we off to? Let’s look at the map.”

  “Right now we’re on the red line, but we can change buses here,” her friend pointed to a stop, “and switch to the blue line. But I don’t think we have enough time if we want to visit the Louvre later. Okay with you?”

  “Sure.”

  A young woman rattled off her well-practiced speech: “Bonjour and welcome aboard. My name is Monique, and Pascal is our driver. Please allow me to go over a few safety reminders I’m sure you’ve all heard before, but I was told to refresh your memory.” A few people laughed and Monique instructed them to stay seated, keeping their hands inside the bus, holding on to their cell phones, and watching out for low-hanging branches.

  “If you want to get off at any of our stops, please let me know,” Monique finished her routine. “Pascal, we’re ready to roll.”

  The driver pulled into traffic, and Stella and Naomi listened to Monique and relaxed while they rode along a large public park behind the Eiffel Tower. When the bus approached an enormous building, Monique explained, “To your left is the Hôtel national des Invalides, a complex of buildings all relating to the military history of France.” She went into details about the history of Les Invalides, but Stella wasn’t interested in French military history and instead took photos and soaked in the sights.

  “I can’t get over the sheer size of all the buildings,” she said as they drove past the Grand Palais des Champs-Élysées. “No wonder it took centuries to build everything.”

  “Right,” Naomi chuckled, “and it probably didn’t help when whatever one general or king started, the next one didn’t like and changed half of it.”

  After a while, Stella yawned. “Monique lost me. Between the slow pace of the bus, the heat, and all those French names, I’m tired. I guess jet lag is catching up with me.”

  Naomi consulted the map. “Why don’t we get off the bus soon? The Louvre is only two more stops away. It’s not too far to walk.”

  “Sounds great. Maybe we can grab some coffee and ice cream, too.”

  “Oh, now you’re talking! I see two scoops of chocolate ice cream on a waffle cone. Or one scoop of chocolate, and one of coffee flavor? Choices, choices… I’ll have to think about it.”

  Their bus circled around the Place de la Concorde, its obelisk and two fountains, and stopped for a brief moment to allow them a glance down the tree-lined Champs-Élysées.

  From their seats on the bus, Stella overlooked the busy street life surrounding them. Throngs of tourists aside—and she was one of them—Paris was a lively city. She watched people talking animatedly in the middle of sidewalks and families sitting in small bistros scattered everywhere, laughing and having fun.

  And couples. They were everywhere. Holding hands, kissing, showing the world they were in love.

  Keep rubbing it in, she thought when Monique said, “Our next stop is Palais Garnier, also known as Opéra Garnier or the Paris Opera.”

  She froze. Instantly, beads of sweat formed on her forehead and trickled down the back of her neck. Her hands were clammy.

  Monique continued, “It’s one of, if not the most famous opera house in the world. Due to in no small part to…?”

  When a few people called out the answer, Monique nodded and said, “Le Fantôme de l’Opéra. Gaston Leroux used this opera house as the setting for his novel.”

  Stella felt Naomi watching her, but she couldn’t turn to face her. Her eyes were glued to the masonry walls of the building and she crumpled up the tour map.

  She came to France to escape memories centered around this book, this musical, this phantom! This opera house!

  Yes, of course she knew it was in this city, and she had hoped to see it one day. But not on this trip. Why was life so cruel?

  Stella didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or to cry, and the sound she made was a combination of both. She covered her mouth with one hand and reached for Naomi’s hand with the other.

  “I have to get off the bus. Please, Naomi! I have to get off.” She grabbed her purse and water bottle. “Now.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Stella—July 2018

  “S

  tella, for crying out loud, we’ll get off, I promise. But we need to wait until we reach the bus stop. I can see it coming up.” Naomi gripped her hand.

  A few minutes later, which felt to Stella like hours, they stood on the sidewalk, and she said, “I’m going in there. There’s no way I can just walk away without going inside.”

  “What good is it doing you? Why torture yourself?”

  “I don’t know. I truly don’t know! But if I don’t go in, I’ll regret it forever.” She looked around. Where could she cross the busy street?

  “Do you want me to come with you?”

  “No—but thank you. I have to do this by myself. Maybe then I can shut the door on this chapter of my life.”

  “Okay, here’s an idea,” Naomi said. “I’ll do some shopping at Galeries Lafayette, which is not far from here.”

  “What do you want to buy?”

  “Lingerie, of course! A little something in black lace. Or blue?”

  “What? Are you serious? Don’t you have enough of the stuff?”

  “What better place than Paris to buy something truly sexy? And who knows? It might come in handy during this trip. Always gotta be prepared for an emergency, the old Girl Scout motto.”

  Naomi had the nerve to give her the Girl Scout salute, then looked up and down the street. “There’s a caf�
� over there. Can you read the name?”

  “It says La Brioche. Let’s meet there in two hours.” She checked the time. “Okay, it’s almost one o’clock now.”

  “See you at 3 pm sharp, and don’t get lost in there. No trying to find the underground lake!” Naomi teased.

  Stella hugged her friend, then walked to the next crosswalk. Once she was safely on the other side, she took her time walking around the building.

  In a haze, she reached the front, noticing people sitting on the wide steps. She was so utterly unprepared, she didn’t even know if the theater was open to visitors on Sundays.

  The thought of being part of a large group right now horrified her. She really needed to get through this all by herself, and hoped it was possible to visit without taking a guided tour.

  Stella noticed people disappearing through the tall stone arches and decided it must be open.

  To calm herself, she studied the facade, recognizing major architectural styles, but skimming over countless sculptures and busts—stopping at the golden capital letters above her head. ACADÉMIE NATIONALE DE MUSIQUE.

  She whispered, “I say that the place of the skeleton of the Opera ghost is in the archives of the National Academy of Music.”

  She shook her head. She didn’t want to uncover skeletons. She didn’t want to disturb ghosts. She only wanted to find peace.

  Peace of heart and mind.

  Her heart hammered.

  Stella tried to tell herself, It’s only a building. Walk in, look around, walk out, but her nerves weren’t so easily persuaded.

  She counted the marble steps in front of the large doors as she climbed them—ten, eleven, twelve—and sat down at the top. Time to google must-see tips.

  What do I want to really see? Stella scrolled through the suggestions. Of course! The auditorium.

  And there was a Library-Museum, known as Bibliothèque-Musée de l’Opéra National de Paris, housing several permanent exhibitions. Exactly what she was interested in. A library-museum was almost like home turf, and it calmed her.