Page 39 of Sacrifice

Eve turned back to the stall. It was packed with the prettiest little ceramic Christmas ornaments that were lit by candles from within. One reminded Eve of a park she’d visited with Gran when she was small. “This one’s cute.” She pointed to it.

Lucien immediately engaged the stall holder in French for a jovial back and forth that concluded with Lucien paying and Eve being presented with her chosen item in a pretty gift bag tied with a golden ribbon.

It was sweet and disarming. Lucien pointed at his cheek and she kissed it.

He stuck out his elbow for her to take, and she slid her arm into his. At that moment, she felt happier than she could remember. They felt so in tune, so relaxed. Absorbed in each other’s company, they strolled on. The market was delightful. Stalls sold everything from tinkling music boxes to sizzling sausages served in soft onion-laden rolls. They dined on street food and drank from Styrofoam cups, but to Eve it was better than any fancy restaurant. They browsed their way around the stalls, Eve clinging to Lucien’s arm as they explored and pulling him closer to ward off the winter chill.

“Youarecold,” he stated emphatically after half an hour’s more wondering. “Come on, in here.” He swept her toward a grand stone porticoed building which turned out to be a gallery. Hot air blasted down on them as they crossed its threshold and immediately Eve felt the hunch in her shoulders relax.

It was a total change of pace from the bustling market outside. Only a handful of people were taking in the art on the walls. Lucien took her hand and led her through to a large, oval room. His hand was as warm as ever and the gentle buzz of contact hummed in Eve’s palm. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to it.

The gallery space was clean and bright. Monet’sWater Liliesstretched in vast murals around its gently curving walls. It was so beautifully serene, a complete step-change, that it took Eve’s breath away. They sank to a bench to gaze at the paintings.

“From the depths of winter to the heady days of summer,” Lucien said, “I’ve always loved the way this place transports you.”

Eve nodded. It felt like they’d left the cold of winter outside.

“Do you see how the light shifts, how the colors breathe? It’s as if Monet captured the very essence of eternity—the most beautiful things are never static, always changing. It is catchingthem at the right time that is the magic.” He moved to kiss her, and Eve’s breath hitched.

He got up and moved to another bench facing another of the murals. Eve followed him.

“Do you see how the water isn’t really water? It’s light and shadow, reflections of something above. There’s so much more to this than meets the eye. We are how we react to the things around us, Eve. Grasp every opportunity. Look for every beauty. It’s all around us, but if we don’t take the time to look, we’ll miss it.” He snapped his fingers.

Eve raised her eyebrows at him.

“You think I’m crazy.” He looked down into his lap.

“No, I think you’re incredible.” He made her heart sing.

He smiled broadly, got up and took her hand this time to lead her to the next. He didn’t sit down.

“Do you notice how the lilies seem to float between two worlds—part water, part light, but timeless? Monet didn’t paint them for one season or one moment; he painted them to endure, so their beauty is preserved forever, seen by us now. Isn’t that the most extraordinary thought? That some things, like beauty… like love… can transcend time?”

Eve gazed at the mural. “I’ve seen these images before. I mean, they’re so famous, but I had no idea that they were really like this. Now I can see what all the fuss is about. I’ve never seen art quite this big before.”

Lucien nodded enthusiastically. “The first time I saw them, they were unlike anything I’d ever seen before too, but they were familiar. Does that make sense?” He shook his head. “I’d never seen anything by Monet, but they felt like a familiar friend. Like an image I’d always had inside me, that was part of my fabric of existence.”

“Like meeting someone for the first time and feeling like you’ve known them all your life.”

Lucien looked down to meet her gaze and brushed his fingertips along her jaw. “Exactly.”

The cafe wasfull of conversation and heat. Glorious heat. They squeezed into seats at a little table by the window. Condensation misted the glass to obscure the world outside.

Eve shucked off her coat and rubbed her hands together. “You’re a very surprising man, Dr Knight.”

“Am I now?” Lucien settled into his seat on the other side of the table and caught the eye of a waiter across the room.

“You are. All the fancy restaurants we’ve passed by today, and this is the place you want to come into.” She cast her eyes around the room. Its murky paintwork, dark and nicotine stained, its wooden furniture mismatched and chipped. The floor was tiled in an old-fashioned checkerboard tile and the art on the walls was unrecognizable, by the look of it, the work of the owner’s children.

The place was packed. Locals squeezed around tables, their coats draped backward over their chairs. They sipped atcaféandchocolat chaudand munched their way through slices oftarte au citron.

“I like the atmosphere,” he said and then to the waiter, “François, comment vas-tu?”

“Je me suis précipité. Je ne peux pas me plaindre.” The waiter shrugged. “Chocolat chaud? Deux?”

Lucien looked at me. ”I assume hot chocolate is acceptable?”

“Oh, yes.”

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