BRIDGES OF TIME

CHAPTER EIGHT

Over the next two weeks she was busy at work. Alix quizzed her about the calls she got now and then from a young man, but she did not feel comfortable in talking about him to anyone in any detail just yet. Besides, there was not much to talk about. His calls were always friendly, but not in a romantic way. Still, he was pleased when he called to ask her for dinner again one weekend and ask her to meet him on the bridge near Notre Dame.

“Well, what’s on your agenda this weekend?” Alix asked as she slipped her glasses off and stretched delicately in her chair. Remie slipped her tired feet out of her shoes and curled her toes in the thick carpet, enjoying the freedom.

“Oh, nothing much. Dinner with a friend, then perhaps some sightseeing.”

Alix leered comically at her. “Dinner with your young man? Oh, la la!”

Remie laughed. “No, no oh la la, just dinner.”

“If you say so my dear, but you know what they say about all work and no play making Jack a dull boy! That goes for Jill too!”

Remie laughed and threw a pencil in her direction and they went back to their work. She knew Alix wanted to be through early, she had a family gathering to attend this weekend. She had invited her but Remie was secretly happy that she actually had a reason to decline her invitation even though she enjoyed her friend’s family. They finished up and Remie said her good-byes outside the office door. She had decided to freshen up in the office powder room instead of going home. She didn’t want to be late.

The sky had grown dark and a mist was rising up from the river shrouding the bridge in its thick white cloak. Her hand grasped the cold stone of the bridge and she thought to herself, this is where the fictional Javert had committed suicide. Shivering, she wondered how many real people had jumped to their death from this bridge in despair. The gray iridescent mist swirled cold and wet and she saw a figure standing a short distance away from her leaning over the bridge. Thinking it might Davit she hurried towards the figure. No one was there. The mist got thicker. She could not see a thing.

How was he going to see her when he did come, she thought to herself, worry creasing her forehead. She put her purse on the parapet so she could button her jacket. As she did so her elbow hit her purse knocking it forward. Alarmed, she leaped and grabbed at it and missed. A mild oath escaped her as she leaned forward over the edge. Peering through the fog she could see her purse swinging over the water, its strap caught on outcropping of a piece of sculpture. Stretching, she stood on tiptoe, her fingers almost touching the strap when suddenly she felt her foot slip and she fell forward hitting her head hard on the outcropping of cold stone. An explosion of light blinded her, and her flailing hands grasped the wet stone. A scream escaped her throat as she lost her grip on the wet stone. Oh God, she thought as she saw the water rushing up to meet her, this can’t be happening to me. Just before she lost consciousness, she felt steel hard arms reach around her waist and pull her up, hard. When she awoke, it was dark and a fine rain was falling, she could feel the chill of cold stone beneath her. Someone was holding her hand and speaking.... “Madame, Madame can you hear me?”

“Davit?” she whispered, before darkness claimed her once again.

to be continued....

© 2003 Rose Carr

Contact the author:  Rosematuse@aol.com

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