Chapter 8

Paris, August, Saturday—Present Time

The taxi dropped us off in front of Le Coin du Livre. The bright blue door was an entrance to a labyrinth of brick and wood beams and books of all sizes, piled up in every possible square inch of the space. People filled the multitude of spaces with chatter, laughter, and poetry readings. Chandeliers of different colors and styles hung from the ceiling, and drawings decorated the walls. Worn plush chairs stood next to the disorganized shelves, encouraging readers to get lost within pages of a book.

Pauline, having been here previously, was unfazed by the chaotic magnificence and quickly moved through the rooms. She led me to a small area toward the back and pointed at a shelf filled with antique medical books.

“I think you’ll be happy looking around here, no?”

I didn’t wish to disappoint her, but the medical section was the last place I wanted to be in right now. “Yes, I’ll be fine. Go shop,” was all I said.

“I leave you here for a while, okay? I need to look for a good design book. I’ll come back soon?”

She was gone before I could respond.

In truth, I was glad to have a moment to myself. I should’ve been thrilled about being in this strange but wonderful store, but I sat down on a tiny stool propped in the corner, hid my face in my hands, and gave in to panic. The ring chase had led to nothing, and I now had no further excuse to stay in Europe. I had to go back and face what had happened in New York.

They had told me that I wasn’t directly to blame for Hailey’s death. The other residents said I was “lucky” that I wasn’t asked to leave right away. But no one blamed me for my sister’s death, either. My grandparents said Ella had had a condition since birth and it was going to end her life at some point. But why wasn’t I born with the same heart condition? We were twins, identical in every way. We should’ve died together, as we had spent every minute of every day together. They said I was “lucky” that my heart was perfect. I guess it was difficult to feel grateful for my “luck” sometimes.

I heard voices and lifted my head to see a young couple entering the room. I was about to get up and pretend to search for a book, when a very dusty brown leather volume caught my eye. I cleaned the dust off with my fingers, revealing the title, Text-Book of Operative Surgery by Dr. Kocher, 1907. Next to the volume was the same textbook, but in German, Chirurgische Operationslehre von Dr. Th. Kocher, 1907. I could just hear the voice of a third-year surgical resident demonstrating the use of the Kocher clamp, used to grab slippery tissue. Kocher was a surgery pioneer in Switzerland.

What else was he famous for? I took out the German volume and searched through the illustrations in the book. Oh, yes, the thyroidectomy! Kocher was the first to perform the full removal of the thyroid without killing the patient. The German copy was also covered in beautiful dark leather, but the cover was fragile and faded at the seam. The pages were yellow and stained, but the text was still bold and black. One of the pages had a black-and-white photograph of a surgery in progress. I didn’t know even one word of German, but my mind did not need translation. I let my fingertips trace the arteries and tendons, quietly whispering the Latin names my brain had memorized so long ago. Flipping through the pages gently, I noticed a handwritten paragraph at the bottom of a page.

“Maya, you find something?” Pauline’s voice from the next room startled me away from the book momentarily.

“I’m here, Pauline. I’m trying to figure out something written in German in this really great old—” I didn’t finish. The words were stuck in my throat. In tiny and very neat letters, it was written in German:

“Du bist mein, ich bin dein,

dessen sollst du gewiss sein.

Du bist verschlossen in meinem Herzen.

Verloren ist das Schlüsselein:

du musst immer darin sein!”

I knew the first line of this poem very well. The faded signature underneath the writing said in cursive, “Mark, Bern, 1913.”

“Find something good?” Pauline was behind me, with her head on my shoulder.

“Look at this!” I said. “There’s a poem written in this textbook and the first line matches the inscription on the ring!”

“C’est merveilleuse! Wait, it says Mark and Bern! Switzerland! So now you have initials ‘C.T.’ and name ‘Mark’. Well, with some luck, you can find your girl, right?”

My heart thumped in my chest. “What if it has nothing to do with the ring?”

“How could it not? Have you ever heard of this poem before? Now you see it two times? That is a lovely coincidence. Or ‘synchronicity,’ as Nicolas would say, right?”

The same thoughts flew fast through my mind. I searched frantically for more writing or any signs of its previous owner. There was nothing else, but I didn’t tell Pauline, that, as I was looking at the pages, I saw myself not in the bookstore but in a large, dimly lit library, sitting at a table, studying this book with much less faded pages and feeling my heart skip with joy when I found the hidden poem. So the ring owner was a medical student. Did she even survive her medical training? Or did she fail? Fail like I did…

“You look pale.” Pauline sounded worried. “We need to get air. So dusty in here. Then we can look through more of this book and see more clues, right?”

I stared at the book for a few seconds, then replied. “Yes, you’re right. I feel strange. Can you wait for me by the register? I just need to get one more book really quick.”

“Don’t be long. I’ll go get us some postcards.”

Bern, Switzerland, was my next destination, then. I searched for travel guides in a rather messy section of the store. Maps, antique books, and newer travel guides were everywhere, shoved haphazardly into the cubbies that passed for shelves. The books on Switzerland were piled on top of the shelves, almost near the ceiling. Cursing my shortness, I climbed the small ladder propped up near a small dusty window, but they were still out of my reach. I stretched my arm and the ladder swayed.

“Darn it!” I burst out.

“Can I help you get that? Before you kill yourself on that rickety thing?”

The male voice startled me, pushing my heart into my throat. My foot slipped on the ladder, and I practically fell on top of the man behind me. A tall, warm, strong man. Laughing at me.

I scrambled to stand up straight. “I was just trying to get a travel book up there. I need one for Switzerland. I couldn’t reach.”

He held my elbows until I was steady. Warmth spread from his touch throughout my body, and I felt my cheeks burning.

“Hold on. I’ll get a good one for you.” He let go of my elbows and reached up.

He had no trouble getting to the top cubbies. I fanned my face. Honestly, how much more could I embarrass myself?

“This is a good one.” He handed me a small volume. “I’ve used it before. Tells you how to find places off the beaten path.” He looked down at me, eyes examining.

“And what makes you think I’m looking for places off the beaten path?” I said.

“This bookstore isn’t exactly on any tourist map.” His eyes were smiling.

“All right, I’ll take it.” I needed to get away from him. He was unnerving me. I turned and started walking.

“If you have time for a drink, I’ll give you some tips about Switzerland. Been there many times,” he called after me.

“No, thanks,” I replied quickly, then decided to be more polite. He did help me after all. “I’m here with a friend. She’s waiting.”

Pauline arrived on cue. “Oh, there you are.” She eyed the man, then gave a knowing smile.

“Hi, I’m David.” He waved.

“Pauline Girard. Her friend.”

She pushed me back, and I nearly bumped into him again.

“David Fischer,” he offered his hand to me.

“Maya,” I returned the handshake and held my breath. The shock travelled up my arm, through my shoulder, and to my chest. It wasn’t painful, more like electricity, pulsing through my blood and muscles, making it hard to breathe.

David looked at me with narrowed eyes. Had he noticed?

“Wait a minute.” I looked at the travel book in my hand and back to him, raising my brows. “Is this your…?”

“Yeah,” he said, eyes laughing. “My brother.”

The photograph on the back of the book depicted a man who was a younger version of David, in hiking gear and on a hillside. “I can’t believe you gave me your brother’s book!” I wanted to feel anger, but for some reason a laugh burst out of my mouth.

“Nate is really a very good writer. You’ll love the book. I wasn’t conning you.” He laughed too.

“Fine, I’ll buy your brother’s book. But he better not put me to sleep!” I said.

He turned to Pauline. “I was just asking Maya if she’d like a drink. I offered to give her some tips on travel to Switzerland. Obviously, the invitation extends to you, as well.”

I mouthed No to Pauline, but she ignored me. “But of course! That would be lovely. I’ve been breathing too much dust in this bookstore. I must tell the owner to do something about it.” She winked at me.

I blew more dust from a nearby shelf into Pauline’s face and whispered, “I can’t believe you did this!” as we walked to the register.

“He is so handsome! You can’t pass this opportunity,” she whispered back.

We walked to a nearby café with small tables under blue umbrellas. I gulped my Bordeaux, trying to distract myself from watching David’s lean body stretched comfortably in a tiny chair. I was still rattled by the electricity of our earlier contact.

“Maya, David asked you a question.” Pauline touched my shoulder.

“Oh!” I sat up, dazed. “I’m sorry, the wine went straight up to my head.”

He laughed. “Nothing like a strong Bordeaux. I was asking about your ring.” He pointed at my fingers, wrapped around the wineglass.

“Oh, I bought it in Edinburgh.”

“An antique? My mother has moonstone earrings just like this, I think maybe with the same silver-and-marcasite design,” he said.

“What a coincidence!” Pauline smiled.

I touched my ring protectively and motioned to the waitress for more wine.

“Why Switzerland?” David asked.

“I heard it was a beautiful country,” I answered.

“It sure is. Which cities are you visiting?” David asked.

“She’ll start with Bern. Easy connection from here,” Pauline answered.

He took a sip of his wine. “It is. It’s a pity few people visit. It’s a beautiful medieval city, and the Aare River cools it off nicely in August. Are you going together?”

“No, she’s going alone. I have work to do in Paris,” Pauline said. “Maybe you keep her company?”

“And why are you in Paris, David?” I asked. Time to switch the topic.

“I’m here for work.”

“What kind of work?” Pauline pushed.

“I’m an attorney in New York, but I came here to work on contracts for a US company with offices in Paris.”

I took in his relaxed pose, faded jeans, clearly fit upper body covered by a light blue T-shirt, chestnut hair, and large brown eyes covered by brown-rimmed glasses. “You don’t look like a lawyer,” I observed.

He laughed. “What do you think lawyers look like?”

“Well, gray pinstriped suit, gold glasses, black polished shoes, leather briefcase, that sort of thing.”

He shook his head. “It’s Saturday. I’m allowed to wear casual on the weekends.”

I motioned the waiter for more alcohol and wiggled in my chair. The sweat trickled down my back. When the wine arrived, I finished it in a few sips and sat back in my chair, legs feeling fuzzy now.

“So, what brought you to Paris, Maya?” David asked, while gesturing for another round of wine.

“Oh…I’m just here visiting her.” I pointed at Pauline. “We’ve been friends since we worked together in Guatemala.”

“It wasn’t work. It was terrible suffering, let me tell you. I don’t know how we survived there. I couldn’t wait to leave. Now, Maya, of course, couldn’t do enough for the children. She is a doctor. Also from New York,” Pauline chimed in.

“Oh really? What kind of a doctor are you?” David asked.

“No kind. I haven’t finished my residency.” I gave Pauline a stern look. Why can’t she ever keep her mouth shut?

“She is a pediatrician.” She winked at me.

“I’ve only done a year of pediatric residency at Kips Bay Hospital,” I said.

“So they let you go to Guatemala as a resident? That’s awesome. When will you be back in New York?”

“Soon.” My skin felt cold suddenly. “Next week.” I stood up. “Well, I think I’m done with the heat and the wine for the day. Very nice to meet you, David. Good luck with your contracts.”

“Great to meet you both. Maybe we’ll run into each other again one day?” He stood up.

“I doubt it.” I shrugged my shoulders. I hope we will was what I wanted to say but wouldn’t admit it to myself.

Pauline leaned over to kiss him on both cheeks, in French fashion, then stepped aside. I held back, shy and weary, memories of the recent strong physical reaction still there. He nodded, eyes demonstrating understanding, and touched my shoulder lightly with his fingers, saying goodbye. The contact, however brief, sent another electrical wave of warmth through my body. This time, I knew he felt it too. His head went up suddenly, eyes examining mine for a reaction. I pulled away, grabbed Pauline’s arm, and waved at him. It was time to leave. I couldn’t afford this distraction.

“Did you see how he looked at you? Like he knew you already? Like you had an instant connection?” Pauline asked.

“He also handed me his brother’s book. I can’t stand lawyers.”

“What’s wrong with lawyers?”

“They care about no one but themselves. They’ll break your heart and destroy your soul before you realize you’re even in trouble.”

Pauline laughed. “Fine, you don’t have to date him. You can leave him in Paris for some lucky French girl. Let’s talk about you going to Switzerland.”

“Do you think I should go?”

“Absoluement! Nicolas said you must pay attention to coincidences and see what happens and—voila—you found the book with the writing. You must find out more!”

“I guess it was a sign,” I agreed. “I was so ready to give up and go home, and then—there it was!”

“I wish you’d stay with me longer.” She sighed.

“Me too, but I only have six days until I have to go back. And I have to figure this out. Can you come with me? It’s the weekend.”

“I can’t go with you, I’m sorry. I’m in the middle of all this construction. And I have an art auction to go to in two days.” Pauline hugged me close. “But remember you can’t keep running. You’ll have to go back to New York at some time.”

“I know.” I sighed. “I have to be back by Thursday. I’ll probably be back before then. So you and I can catch up some more. This shouldn’t take long.”

We finished our walk to her apartment. I took a quick look to see if the robin was in the square, but it wasn’t, and I went peacefully to sleep that night, with no more dreams.