Page 47 of Forgiving Paris
His eyes told her that he understood. “Forevermore. Paris will not be ruined by some evil man from your past.” Landon put his hand alongside her face. “We’ll remember Paris for this. For us.”
“Yes.” Ashley looked at the sky, the way the fading sunlight streamed through the ancient chestnut trees. “Okay… now’s our chance.” She stood and he did the same. Then she found someone to take their photo as they stood with their backs to the canal, the trees and light and old wooden boats all in the picture.
Paris. Forevermore.
Their anniversary tour ended in the first arrondissement, and Landon had the driver drop them off at a place Ashley remembered all too well. The Pont des Arts. Thesky was dusk now, just dark enough for the moment to feel surreal. Like something from a dream.
He walked with her to the start of the footbridge, and she stopped them. She faced the Louvre and then Notre Dame. Then she turned to look at the distant Eiffel Tower. “I’ve been here. Hours after I landed the first time.”
“I wondered.” Landon was patient, not rushing the moment.
“I thought…” She leaned against the metal railing and Landon took the spot beside her. “I thought Paris men were so romantic. Smiling at me, tipping their hats.” She allowed a sad laugh. “I wanted to live here forever.”
Ashley doubted this was on Landon’s itinerary, but it had to be said. “Jean-Claude Pierre was not romantic. I actually think he was dangerous, Landon.”
There it was. The part of her past Ashley never talked about. The possibility that maybe she had actually been in more trouble than she knew.
Landon put his arm around her. “Tell me.”
Ashley steadied herself.I have to do this,she told herself.He deserves to know.“It isn’t like… I kept it from you, Landon.” A cool breeze came off the Seine and she shivered. “I didn’t think about this part. I didn’t want to think about it.”
For a long minute, Ashley said nothing. Fear circled her and pressed tight against her throat.
“I’m here.” Landon ran his fingers through her hair. “Whenever you’re ready.”
“Thank you.” She drew a slow breath. If she told him,maybe she could move past this. Finally let it go. “It happened after I decided not to have the abortion. After I ran out of the clinic.”
Landon eased his hold on her and faced her. “You must have felt so alone.”
“I did.” Her palms felt clammy. “A few nights later I was reporting to work at the gallery. I thought I might still have my job, and earlier Marguerite—the owner—had asked me to be there. They were hosting another show.”
In the distance a siren pierced the night air. Ashley clenched her jaw and then forced herself to relax. “Needless to say, Marguerite did not want me. Not ever again. It was like everyone connected with Jean-Claude knew about the baby, and that I had decided not to have an abortion.”
“I’m sure you’re right. He had a lot of power in the art circles back then, from what you’ve said.”
“Yes.” Ashley gripped the railing, so tight her fingers turned white. “He was very powerful.” She hesitated. “That evening I was walking back to Ms. Martin’s flat, and I realized I was being followed.”
“You saw someone?”
“Two men. They were dressed in black. All black.” She closed her eyes, but it didn’t take away the image in her mind. When she blinked again, she looked at the Seine. Lights from Paris were sparkling on the water. “The men—they looked familiar. I kept checking over my shoulder and they got closer and closer. They had their hands intheir pockets like… like maybe they had guns. Or knives. And they were staring at me, Landon. Straight at me.”
Anger flashed in Landon’s eyes. If he could’ve, he would’ve gone back in time and taken care of the guys himself. With his bare hands. Ashley could see that.
She faced him and linked her arms around his waist. “The street was dark. No one seemed to notice the trouble I was in. And then, for no reason… they stopped. They just stopped following me and turned around. The next time I looked over my shoulder, they were gone.”
“So, you never found out who they were?” Landon searched her eyes. “No closure on this story?”
“Not really.” She looked out at the river for a long while, and then back at Landon. “I saw them a few more times. They were definitely following me. I could tell. Then I had coffee with a friend I met the first day. Celia. She wanted to be a writer… I’m not sure if she became one or not.”
“Hmm. What about her?” Landon seemed edgy. “I hate that you were in danger, Ash.”
“Celia said something that I’ve tried to forget.” Ashley exhaled. “I told her I was pregnant. That I’d been with Jean-Claude Pierre. And Celia’s eyes became so wide, you know? Like this information terrified her.”
“Did she say why?” Landon pulled her closer, so their bodies were touching. As if he could protect her from the past. “Did Celia know him?”
“She didn’t. Her friend did. A friend she’d had all her life growing up.” Ashley felt sick. “Her friend had datedJean-Claude the year before and gotten pregnant, too. When… when she didn’t have an abortion, Celia’s friend went missing.” Ashley shivered again. “They found her body in the Seine a few days later.”
Ashley heard Celia’s warning again, as clearly as she’d heard it then. “Celia told me I had to move. ‘Leave this place,’ she told me. ‘Jean-Claude is a famous artist, but he is a very, very bad man. You’ll be dead in days… and it’ll never be traced back to him. That’s his way.’?”
