Chapter 7
They retraced their steps back up Rue des Saules, the way they’d come not long before. Except when they came to the busier street, they turned to the right, rather than going back to the Artists’ Square. The crowds thinned a little as they continued to wind their way down the hill, each of them lost in their own thoughts.
It was getting late, and the light began to change to the glow of late afternoon as the sun slipped behind the apartment buildings they passed. Gabrielle glanced at her phone; almost six o’clock. Soon they would have to think about heading home or eating out. She wasn’t sure which would be best. The longer she was with this man, the more she liked him. Despite how wonderful he appeared, that felt both exciting and scary.
Branches, covered with sprays of white flowers gushed over a wrought iron fence atop a rock wall beside them as they came to an intersection. She pointed out their next move. Several more turns along the narrow cobblestone lane and they came to Place émile Goudeau, another square shaded entirely by huge oak trees just beginning to turn green.
“Picasso lived here,” Annette said suddenly, ending the silence.
“What? On a park bench?” Andrew looked at her in exaggerated surprise. “Are you saying the man was homeless?”
“No silly,” she teased and then giggled, the uncomfortable tension was broken. “Là-bas, over there.” She pointed. “The building with the green front that says Le Bateau Lavoir. It means, the laundry boat. Do you see it? Picasso rented a studio ‘ere in 1904.”
“I see it. You certainly know a lot about the art world.” Andrew viewed her with interest.
“I should,” Annette said with a sniff. “It will be my life’s work.” She stepped away from the pair and strolled toward the only exit from the square, down a flight of stairs at the center of a railing on the far side.
“Annette is an artist ‘erself,” Gabrielle explained, unlinking her arm from Andrew’s brawny one. It felt awkward without Annette on the other side. “She ‘as been accepted to a prestigious school called Beaux-Arts de Paris. We are very proud of ‘er.”
“That’s amazing. I’ve never known an artist before,” he said, sounding impressed.
Annette whirled around from where she stood at the railing. “Alors! And I ‘ave never known a man such as yourself, who scales buildings to rescue the dog of an old man.”
Andrew blushed. “I just react,” he said, lifting his hands in a gesture of resignation. “It’s the way I’m built. If I can help, that’s what I do.”
“I did not mean to embarrass you,” Annette said, hurrying over to place a hand on his arm. “You are a remarkable man, and I am glad we ‘ave meet. Are all men from Canada like you?”
He chuckled. “Guess I can’t answer for them. My father raised me and my brother to put others first.”
With that the subject was closed. What could one add when faced with such gallantry? He was the polar opposite to Lyam and Gabrielle couldn’t quite wrap her head around it. The man seemed too good to be true. Maybe he had some serious hidden flaw she hadn’t spotted yet. She watched him surreptitiously from beneath her lashes.
“What did you use to cut the dog loose?” Gabrielle suddenly remembered the device from his back pocket.
“Oh that? It’s a called a Leatherman. We always carry them on the farm, because they have so many tool attachments. I use three or four of them every day. I packed it into my checked luggage. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it on a trip to France, but you have to admit it came in pretty handy.” He drew it out to show them, flicking a few of the attachments open for them to see.
“It’s like a Swiss Army Knife,” Annette said, reaching out to touch the tiny silver pliers lying on his palm.
“Yeah, I guess it is. Anyway,” he said, snapping it shut, “I’m glad I had it.”
They wandered down the steps and past a busy restaurant filled with chattering customers. Then strolled single file along a contracted sidewalk until they reached Rue des Abbesses.
They had only walked along the busy thoroughfare for a few minutes when Annette spoke. “J”ai soif.”
“What does that mean?” Andrew asked, unable to tear his eyes away from the activity about him. Cars honked, motorbikes whizzed past, and people bustled down the sidewalk carrying parcels of all descriptions.
Gabrielle considered the disparity between their two worlds, and what Andrew must be experiencing right now. He was likely feeling overwhelmed with the sheer magnitude of life in the city.
“It means she’s thirsty,” Gabrielle answered, already watching for somewhere they could stop to get a quick drink. “There is a small shop near the métro station?” She glanced at her pretty sister in her chic outfit and smiled. “Will plain water do, or would you likede l’eau gazeuse?”
“Un soda, s”il te plait,” Annette answered, switching her purse from one shoulder to the other. All three of them ducked into the confined space of a tiny store. Gabrielle made for the wall of drinks in an open air cooler. The space inside the shop was filled from floor to ceiling with canned goods, bottled pickles, condiments and other preserved foods, bread, laundry soap, shampoos, a few boxes of fresh vegetables and fruits, and even a shelf filled with wine. There was barely room to move around all the items for sale. Andrew peered at a shelf filled with snacks.
“Are you kidding me?” Gabrielle heard him mutter to himself. And then added, “I don’t believe it,” as he rustled through a few of the packages before choosing two. Moments later he joined them, chose a drink at random, and strode to the cash register to pay.
Out on the street, he clutched his bag of goodies protectively to his chest with a grin. “I got something for us all to share. Can we sit down for a while? Maybe on that bench?” He pointed at a green wooden bench near a children’s carrousel ride that was situated next to the Abbesses métro station entrance.
They plunked themselves down and the women opened their drinks, watching as Andrew mysteriously delved into his grocery sack and pulled out two small bags of potato chips. He waved them proudly in the air, the wrappers crinkling loudly.
“It was difficult to choose between all the ultra-delicious flavours I found,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his tone. “But I managed to find two I just have to sample. I’ll share them with you even though you probably grew up on…” He held up one package and read from the side, “Black Truffle, a taste sensation. And perhaps you often eat your fill of…” He raised the other and squinted at it, as he called out, “Oyster flavoured crisps.” He made a face, but manfully ripped open the bag and offered it to the women before dipping a hand in himself. “I mean, really, with such options as truffle and oyster, how could you go wrong?” He grinned mischievously.
Narrowing his eyes, he popped several into his mouth and chewed consideringly. “Not quite as hateful as expected,” he said, swallowing with only a slight shudder. “It gives a whole new meaning to the phrase, ‘fish and chips.’”
Gabrielle and Annette laughed, the latter choking on a crumb and tipping most of a drink down her throat before she recovered.
“And what flavours do you enjoy in Canada?” Annette queried, checking her hair in a small compact mirror from her purse.
Andrew looked sheepish. “You got me. My favourites are ketchup and dill pickle.”
“You’re joking!” Annette sat back with a look of amusement on her face. “Ketchup? And you make fun of ours?”
They ate their fill of the snacks Andrew had provided. Gabrielle then swept the chip particles from her lap and made a small announcement.
“I want to show you, Le mur des je t’aime,” she said, turning toward him as he rolled the bags into balls and fired them into a nearby trash receptacle.
Brushing crumbs off his mouth, he took another drink of his water. “The what?” A frown appeared between his eyes.
Annette chuckled before she said, “It is the, ‘I Love You Wall.’ It is just be’ind us, in that little fenced park.
Andrew swiveled around on the bench to look. “Looks like a cute garden.” Removing his Stetson, he smoothed down his hair and placed the hat back on his head. “But again, what are you talking about? You French are well-known romantics, but what the heck is a love wall?”
Gabrielle stood up, placing hands on hips, regarded him sternly. “May I remind you Andrew, you also are ‘alf French.”
He laughed. “You may. And I’m proud of it! Let’s see this wall of yours.” Grinning, Andrew jumped to his feet still holding his bottled water. He bowed low, indicating that the women should walk ahead. But his smile fled as his attention was diverted to a spot across the street. His eyebrows knitted together, and his mouth thinned. Gabrielle followed his gaze, wondering what he’d seen to cause such concern, but only saw the usual crowds of a busy thoroughfare. Andrew rubbed his jawline thoughtfully and then turned away.
“Sorry,” he said, with an attempt to return to his good humour. “Or should I say dess-holy?”
“If you’re trying to apologize by using the French word, désolé,” Annette said dryly, “you failed.”
Laughing, they sauntered toward the open gate of the fenced Jehan-Rictus Square, where the ‘I Love You Wall’ was housed. It was close and they quickly passed through the gate, immediately enjoying the solitude it afforded despite its location just off a popular shopping street.
It was a pretty place with wide paved walkways, hedges, low laurels, leafy bushes, and lush beds of spring flowers. Fruit trees also bloomed, the waves of a sweet perfume wafting through the air. Gabrielle took a deep breath, listening as Annette, sounding a little like a tourist guide, continued her explanation.
“Le Mur des Je t’aime, is a wall which was created by two artists as an ‘omage to lovers. It is covered with 612, black lava tiles inscribed with the words, ‘I love you’ in 312 different languages. It is quite remarkable that the couple collected the phrase in each language by speaking to people in embassies, asking strangers and neighbours until hundreds of them were accumulated. Obviously, they didn’t add all of them to the wall.” She shrugged as they drew to a halt in front of the wall and stared at it. “Only the ones considered the most beautiful were used. It commemorates the international language of love, as all 192 countries of the United Nations are represented.”
“Wow,” Andrew said. A young couple held hands in front of the wall, their mouths repeating the sacred words in their own language before they sealed the promise with a kiss and moved along the path.
Gabrielle sighed. She had been here with Lyam once, but he had considered it a waste of time and beneath his dignity to declare his love for her in front of a wall. It didn’t matter to him that she had considered it quite romantic. Another couple walked toward them, arm in arm. Annette wandered away to sit on one of the many benches provided in the garden.
She felt, rather than saw, Andrew’s eyes rest on her, but she didn’t meet his gaze. It would be a long time before she put her trust in someone again. Lyam had crushed something inside her. Still, she felt a surge of longing rise in her heart as she walked closer to see how many of the words she could understand. One day she hoped to find a man with whom to share these sacred words of love. Someone who didn’t think they were foolish.
“This is beautiful,” said Andrew’s awed voice.
Gabrielle whirled around. “It is?”
“Of course,” he said, reaching out a hand to caress the stone. “I’ll bet a lot of marriage proposals are made here.”
It wasn’t meant as a question, but she answered it anyway. “Oui, I ‘ave seen proposals, engagement photo shoots, and even a quick marriage performed.”
“You come here quite often then?”
“My parents first brought me…” her words trailed as a memory came to mind of her father and mother whispering words of undying love as the two girls perched on a bench and watched. That was what she wanted. A marriage based on love, respect, and acceptance of one another’s differences.
She looked up, realizing he’d been waiting for her to finish. “Sorry,” she said, flashing him a smile. “Just reliving an ‘appy time. Yes, I come ‘ere once in a while. I suppose it’s an eternal, ‘uman desire to be loved and it makes me glad to see so many lovers, young and old, come here to profess it.” Feeling as though she were becoming too maudlin, Gabrielle changed the subject. “We should probably go ‘ome now, yes? We cannot eat out all the time and I ‘ave plenty of work waiting for me.”
Andrew shook his head as though to clear it of his own memories. “Sure,” he said, offering nothing more in the way of conversation. “Thanks for bringing me here today. I can tell it’s a special place for you. But you’re right, I have a lot to do as well. I want to start painting tomorrow and I’ve set a shop opening date for the Friday after this. How do you think I should advertise it?”
Gabrielle waved to her sister and the three of them made their way out of the lovely little garden, and back down the winding stairs into the métro Abbesses. They were seated across from one another on the train when she replied.
“I think opening the shop quickly is fantastic, but you won’t need to do much in the way of advertising. Put a large sign up in the front window announcing the date and time, and the local people will come. It may not be busy right away, but I feel certain your uncle had a devoted clientele. Once they learn you are ‘is nephew and that you intend to carry on in the tradition of your uncle, they will return. And…” she looked directly into his clear blue eyes, “I will be there to ‘elp you speak to them that first day.”
“Mercy!” Andrew said, the grin on his face almost reaching ear to ear. “You’re the best friend a foreign guy could ever have. Thanks.”
When an elderly lady boarded the train at their next stop, Andrew hopped up to offer her his chair. As the woman thanked him and tiredly fell into the seat with a groan, piling several bags onto her lap, he moved to the center of the car. Catching Gabrielle’s eye over the heads of nearby passengers, he pulled the brim of his hat low in a silent salute. Annette dug an elbow into Gabrielle’s side and hissed at her.
“Il tombe amoureux de toi.”
Gabrielle shook her head vigorously. “Non,” she disagreed. Andrew was a friend, nothing more. Yes, he was grateful for her help and that made sense. But Annette’s declaration that he was falling in love with her was outrageous and not to be entertained. To prove it, she ignored him all the way to their métro stop.
As they climbed to street level and began the familiar walk to their respective homes, Andrew kept turning to stare thoughtfully behind them.
“Are you looking for something?” Annette finally asked, craning her neck to see if she could spot what he was searching for.
In answer, Andrew threw back his shoulders and spoke determinedly. “I’m walking you to your door tonight.” He raised a silencing hand as Gabrielle opened her mouth to protest. “No arguments,” he said with emphasis. “Think of it as doing me a favour, not you. I’ll sleep better tonight knowing you’re both safely inside, with the door locked behind you.”
Gabrielle narrowed her eyes. She peered at him, trying to decide what was prompting this display of masculine protection, but he wouldn’t respond to her probing gaze. Very well, she decided if that was what he wanted to do, she wouldn’t stop him.
Evening was falling and the shadows were growing long. Gabrielle’s stomach began to growl. A handful of potato chips wasn’t very filling, and it had been a long time since lunch. Annette chattered to Andrew as they walked, filling him in on her upcoming year of studies and showing him the way to the apartment. Though Gabrielle only listened with half an ear. She was planning out dinner for the two of them and wondering if she had enough eggs for a cheese omelet.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Andrew said tersely, doing just that. Annette had been describing the Belliveau Estate in Provence where she and Gabrielle had spent summer holidays since they were children. Both women stopped abruptly. Andrew took an arm of each, almost propelling them forcibly along the quiet street.
“What are you doing?” Gabrielle said with annoyance, trying to pull her arm away.
“I’ll explain when we get there,” Andrew said in a low, tense voice. “But could we walk faster? It’s important.”
Something in his tone caused both women to quicken their pace without further question. The trio fairly raced along the final stretch of street until reaching Gabrielle’s apartment block. Long before they arrived, she readied herself to input the code. Her fingers flew across the keypad and the latch clicked open. Andrew threw his weight against it and the two women almost fell into the foyer.
Behind them, Andrew snapped the door shut and leaned against it. Letting out a sigh he yanked the hat from his head and ran a hand through his sandy hair.
“I’d like to speak to your sister alone for a moment if you don’t mind, Annette,” he said with a smile. “She can fill you in later, if she wants.”
“D’accord,” Annette said doubtfully, looking at Andrew with suspicion. “I want to know what’s going on when you come up, Gabby,” she said pointedly. She held out a hand for the keys that Gabrielle jangled in one hand and marched stiffly up the stairs.
When she was safely out of earshot, Andrew took a deep breath. “I don’t want to alarm you, or her, but I think we’ve been followed for most of the day.”
Gabrielle took a step back. Coming in contact with the mailboxes, she sagged against them, feeling her heart race. “You do?” Her legs felt weak, unable to support her and she swayed before catching herself. Andrew had to be wrong. Who would follow them? “What makes you think this?”
He sighed. “It might be a coincidence, but…naw,” he shook his head. “It’s no coincidence.” Absently, he turned his hat around and around in his hands. “I noticed a man up at that big white church we first went to today. Can’t think of the name.”
“Sacré-C?ur.”
“Yeah, that’s it. Anyway, I didn’t think much of it at the time. There were lots of people around. It’s a busy place.” He stepped closer to her, and she could see the worry in his eyes.
“The guy is tall, a heavyset man. I’d say in his early forties, with thick black hair and a goatee. He stands out in a crowd. Anyway, I noticed him again when we were sitting outside that little pink café. He walked past. Still, that wasn’t a big deal,” Andrew shoved his hands in his pockets and then withdrew them to wave around as he talked. “A lot of people walked by. But then I saw him again when we were sitting on that park bench having a drink. That’s when I really began to take note. He was hanging around across the street, leaning against a lamppost and reading a newspaper.”
He paused and she realised she was holding her breath, scanning her memory banks for heavyset men with goatees.
“I remember thinking that a tourist wouldn’t do that,” Andrew continued. “Read a newspaper, I mean. Plus, he was alone which also seemed unusual.” Andrew shifted uneasily and began to pace. ”I stared at him for a while, and he lowered the newspaper to look directly at us. As soon as he saw me watching him, he lifted the paper again. That incident shocked me, but I still couldn’t quite believe someone would be purposely tailing us, so I tried to forget about it.”
“And…?” Gabrielle said weakly. “You saw him again?”
“Yes.” Andrew stopped in front of her. “Look, I don’t mean to worry you, but I’m concerned.”
“Where was he?” she asked tonelessly. Her worst fears were coming true.
Andrew resumed his pacing. “He wasn’t on the train, and believe me, I looked. I felt as though I was dreaming stuff up. But I didn’t see him, and I began to relax—until we were walking along the street just now.” He raked another hand through his hair, this time half of it sticking straight up on his head.
“I caught sight of him not far from here, in a small car. I don’t know how he knew where to find us, but it was definitely him. I’m sure of it. Do you have any idea why someone would be doing this?”
Gabrielle stared at the floor, flattening both palms against the cool metal of the mailboxes at her back and leaned forward. Her hair tumbled over her face. Lyam was mixed up in this. She just knew it. He hadn’t tried to contact her since that fateful day when she’d called the police and told them what she’d learned and where he’d been that night.
She also recalled her fears from the night before and knew she’d been right. Someone had been out there watching her. But why?
Andrew came to a stop directly in front of her. “I want to help, but I’m not sure how. Can I take you to talk to the police?”
She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I will alert them, oui, but I’m sure they cannot do anything about a stalker unless an attempt has been made to physically harm me.” She searched his concerned eyes. “They will tell me to go ‘ome. Nothing can be done.”
He nodded in acknowledgement. “But this isn’t just random is it?” he asked. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. But this seems more sinister than someone stalking you, because of your looks.” He bent down to look full into her face. “You know more about it than you’re telling me, don’t you?”
“Per’aps,” she said evasively, “I’m not sure. But if it’s what I think it is, I don’t want to include you in my troubles.”
Andrew spread his arms wide. “Too late,” he said. “I’m already included. That guy, whoever he is, knows that I know about him.” He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Do you have classes tomorrow?”
She nodded.
“What time?”
Gabrielle hitched her purse into a different position. “I should go upstairs,” she said, avoiding his question and his gaze. “Annette will wonder where I am.”
He crossed his arms in front of him and planted his feet.
“I don’t want to involve you any more than I already ‘ave,” she insisted, pasting what she hoped was an unconcerned smile on her lips. She leaned past him to push an automatic release button for the heavy oaken door. “I’ll text you okay.” The door buzzed and clicked open. “Thank you for going with us this afternoon, and for walking us home.”
She pulled the door open, ensuring she was hidden behind it. Andrew’s revelations had unnerved her, but she was trying not to let him see just how badly.
Andrew took the door from her and placed his booted foot against it to hold it wide. “Fine,” he said. “You don’t want to talk about it and that’s your right, but we’re friends…I don’t take that lightly. So, if you don’t tell me what time you’re leaving for class in the morning, I’ll be here by six o’clock, sitting on the curb, waiting for you.” A slow smile crept across his face. “You wouldn’t want to deprive a cowboy of his sleep, now would you?”
Rolling her eyes, but acknowledging she’d feel a whole lot better if he was with her, she divulged the requested information.
“I will leave ‘ere by nine.”
“Great,” he said, stepping through the doorway. “Don’t go anywhere without me.” The door clanged shut behind him.
Gabrielle raced up the stairs as though fifty heavyset men with goatees were after her, only slowing when she drew near the top floor. Should she tell her sister the truth concerning Lyam? She wasn’t positive he was the reason for this sudden drama. After all, why would Lyam send someone to stalk her? Was it time that the family knew what he’d done? But knowing why the man deserved prison wouldn’t make any difference now. She’d be filling Annette with fear needlessly.
And what of Andrew. Yes, they were friends, but he didn’t deserve to be dragged into the middle of some late-night crime drama. She didn’t want him placed in a position where he’d be forced to defend her.
Of course, the message on her door was tied in, but how? And if this was some crony of Lyam’s, what did he want? Revenge? To report to Lyam on her whereabouts? Maybe just to frighten her? No. From the message, it appeared he wanted something. But what? Gabrielle flicked her hair over slumped shoulders and rubbed her throbbing head. She didn’t know the answers to any of those questions.
Back and forth she went, arguing first one way and then the other. By the time she’d let herself into the apartment and locked the door, she’d decided.
She would protect them all. She’d say nothing to Annette, leave for university earlier than what she’d said, make up some reason why she couldn’t visit Andrew’s shop, and stay home as much as possible.
It was all she could do. Lyam and his friends were dangerous men who would stop at nothing to achieve their goal. And somehow she knew that goal involved her.