Page 51 of Shining Through

Four years ago, the skating world had written him off, but today, he’d triumphed beyond what he, or anyone else, expected. Best of all, the woman he loved was here to share it.

He couldn’t wait to see what was next.

CHAPTER TWENTY

IN HER ROOM AT THEMarriott Rive Gauche, Tabitha stepped away from the window. Paris was waiting outside. Downstairs, so was Daniil.

She turned to face the king sized bed and brushed her fingers across the silky white spread. She closed her eyes and pictured them naked, wrapped in these sheets and each other. Her heart thudded, and for the hundredth time, she wondered if she had the nerve to go through with it.

She looked in the mirror, but she looked no different than she had three minutes ago. Her hair was loose and wavy. Her eyes smoky, her lips red and bold. She felt sexy and wild. So different from her controlled, cautious self. It was frightening and thrilling at the same time. The photo she’d sent to Samara was answered with an eye-pop cat emoji, thumbs-up and a cork shooting from a bottle of champagne.

In the lobby, Daniil waited on a low gray sofa, under the glow of a bright yellow mid-century modern floor lamp. As she approached, he stood and Tabitha caught her breath at the sight of the drop-dead beautiful man standing before her. “Oh my gosh, you look.... amazing.”

He wore a vintage charcoal gray suit with pinstripes and wide 1940’s style lapels. A black shirt, and red and silver wide necktie, completed the ensemble.

“I chose it with you in mind.” He stepped forward and took her hand. She wanted to throw her arms around him and greet him with long, luscious kisses, but she couldn’t. Not in a lobby swarming with skating people, or with her alleged boyfriend Brett and their good buddy Sergei standing nearby. “I’d hoped you would stick around after the medal ceremony.”

She’d stayed long enough to watch him receive his gold medal and then headed back to the hotel to get ready. “I didn’t want to take you away from your legion of fans. I knew I’d have you to myself later.”

The hotel was in the Montparnasse neighborhood, south of the River Seine. To the west, the Eiffel Tower rose above the city. While that was their eventual destination, their first stop was the Luxembourg Gardens, a walled park that had once been the estate of Louis XIII’s widowed mother.

The garden was divided in the center by a long promenade that extended from the Palais du Luxembourg. Between grassy lawns was an octagonal concrete basin surrounded by chairs and benches. Children played, artists sketched, tourists took pictures. Brett and Sergei went to explore the palace. She and Daniil walked the broad paths, lined with statues, and strewn with red and gold fallen leaves.

Tabitha paused and closed her eyes. She breathed in the smells of decaying leaves and fall flowers, the sounds of the city and of cheerful voices speaking French. She wanted to remember every detail. Whatever came next, this would stand out as a time when she was happy and in love.

Daniil touched her back, she turned and smiled. “Come with me,” he said. “There’s another place I want to show you.”

They left the main promenade and followed a path to a shaded grotto. The rectangular fountain was in deep shade, but the blooming gold and magenta mums planted in the stone urns brought splashes of color. Water trickled down over a statue of two reclining lovers. “This is beautiful,” she said. “One of your discoveries from this week?”

“I came here with my mother a long time ago. It’s one of my favorite places in Paris.”

“I missed you,” she murmured. “I’ve been thinking about today for weeks and now that it’s here, it’s going so fast. I want to hold onto every minute.”

There were people close by and she couldn’t risk anyone seeing them. She stepped to put distance between them, but even his light touch at the small of her back sent spirals of ecstasy racing through her body.

They found Brett and Sergei and left the garden, taking Rue d’Assas north and west toward the Tower. They passed shops and cafes, and as they came to a door with a sign hanging above it, which read “Intemporel.” Daniil stopped. “Another place you’ll like.”

The third floor shop was full of racks of vintage clothing, hats and accessories. It would have felt cramped if not for the soaring ceiling. Skylights let in the golden sunshine of late afternoon. “This was once anatelierwhere art students learned from a great painter,” Daniil said.

By the door hung a black-and-white photograph of about a dozen young men, and one woman, sketching a model that stood on a platform in the middle of the room. Tabitha tried to imagine this place as it had been. The caption at the bottom read, “L’Atelier dû Pascal Jourdain, 1898.”“I’m not familiar with Pascal Jourdain,” she said.

“I’m not either. Maybe he wasn’t so great,” Daniil said, with a grin. “But it’s where I found this.” He tugged at the lapel of his jacket. “Look around, you might find something you like.”

As he, Brett and Sergei tried on hats, she browsed through racks of 1960s sheaths, and 1950s shirtwaists. Neither was quite what she wanted. Then she saw it. Filmy and floating, the pale yellow silk chiffon dress was splashed with bold accents of red and black. A saleswoman watched from across the room. “Would you like to try it on?”

In the fitting room, she slipped into the romantic and glamourous dress, loving it’s silkiness against her skin. It hugged her frame as if tailored to fit. She stepped back into her tall red shoes, and turned to admire the gown’s low cut, yet elegant back. That was when she noticed the small black-and-white photo hanging on the wall behind her. Dated 1939, it showed a blond model in a striped summer dress, grasping the iron frame of the Eiffel Tower as she leaned out over the side.

The photo brought a swirl of vertigo. Though Tabitha had no wish to do what the woman was doing, she envied the model’s fearlessness. Dangling over a precipice, she looked exhilarated and alive. If that woman had the courage to defy death and embrace life, couldn’t Tabitha find courage to go out on a limb of her own?

Love came with risks. But living without risk hadn’t made Tabitha happy, just lonely and resentful. It was time to take a risk with her heart. And what better place than the world’s most passionate city?

She stepped out of the dressing room, met by the admiring looks of Daniil, Brett and Sergei. The saleswoman smiled. “Shall I wrap it for you?”

“No thank you. I’d like to wear it.”

They left the shop, her clothes stashed into a shopping bag. Brett and Sergei wore mod 1960’s silk shirts and bellbottoms. Their next stop was the Eiffel Tower, where they took pictures looking like mid-twentieth century time travelers, before boarding the elevator to the top.

Stiff wind ruffled Tabitha’s thin dress, as she came out onto the observation deck. It was cold enough to raise goosebumps on her skin, but she braved the wind, and stood on the walkway, her fingers clutching the crisscrossed bars that enclosed the platform. The park where they’d taken pictures stretched out like a green carpet. Daniil came and stood beside her.

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