"Juliette! Salut!"

Early the next morning I let Juliette in and immediately hand her a cup of coffee.

"How are you feeling?" she asks.

"Well, I'm on my second cup of coffee and I've taken some Advil, so..." I answer with a laugh. "But I'll be fine, how are you? I'm excited for our trip to Mont Saint-Michel today! I know we have to get going but I want to show you real quick what I've been working on."

"Yes of course," she answers, "We have time."

Leading her upstairs to the spare bedroom I've turned into a studio, I say nonchalantly, "It's too bad Philippe couldn't join us, but it'll be a fun girls trip." The truth is I'm dying to hear how the rest of Friday night went, and today will allow me to get to the whole story of Juliette and Philipp's past.

Juliette agrees and then upon entering the room, exclaims when she sees my paintings, "Oh Lara, très magnifique!" 

I set my coffee down and move to the easel to lift the protective covering and reveal the current one I'm working on. I painted the view from my front yard, the lush greenery in the forefront, the ocean in the background. I can't help but smile to myself at the realization that I called it "my" front yard.

"What do you think of this one?" I ask tentatively, as it's my favorite so far.

Juliette clasps her hands together in delight. "Ah yes, this I love!" She moves closer to peer at the details. "The water - it is moving no? The color...so vibrant...très réaliste."

"It's my favorite view from this house, and I'm glad you think I've captured it so well. I do feel like it needs something, it doesn't feel finished to me yet." My gaze moves over it, silently asking it to tell me what it's missing.

"You are talented Lara. You should sell your paintings!" She snaps her fingers. "Ah yes! I will ask my friend. She has a gallery in Paris." She motions to my artwork. "If you show your art many will buy."

"That is so sweet of you Juliette. But I'm only here for one more week..." I bite my lip thinking. Maybe this doesn't have to be my last week here? I sigh knowing this probably isn't realistic.

"Let me know if you change your mind."

"I will, thank you. Oh! I almost forgot! Before we head out, I need you to read that letter! I have it downstairs."

Grabbing it from my bedroom I meet her in the living room.

"Here! I've tried but I can't make it out. And I don't know if what I translated is even accurate."

"I will do my best." She unfolds the letter while sitting on the couch and starts to translate.

"'Mon amour...umm...My love, I miss you like I cannot say. Won't you come for another visit? My mother is sick and needs me here. If this were not so I would be on the first train to Paris and you. It has been three long months and....feels like eternity. Our roses are blooming and have the sweetest scent. I keep a fresh bouquet inside always....so I feel like a part of you is here with me. How I wish we could have our very own petite maison...er...little house somewhere far away just the...two of us. We would have a rose garden. I know how happy that would make you. I am sending you my Lady of the Lake as promised. When you read it think of me and know I am thinking of you. Ma mère...er mother... is ringing her bell and I must go. I am sealing this letter with a kiss. How I wish it were not just this paper my lips could touch. Forever Yours, Adelaide Dubois'"

When Juliette finishes reading, I find myself speechless. Grabbing the letter back, I stare at it as if it could tell me more.

"Do you think this Adelaide person was in love with my grandmother?" I finally ask.

"Oui mon amie. It would appear so."

~*~

I'm so shocked by what the latter said, I'm still going over it on the drive to Mont Saint-Michel.

"Sorry, I know I keep repeating the same questions, but who is she? What was their relationship exactly?" I shake my head. "Rhetorical question of course. I just can't believe I've never heard of this person."

Juliette looks over at me and asks, "You will find this Adelaide?"

"I want to try. This is a part of my grandmother's life I knew absolutely nothing about. That letter was intimate, they meant something to each other. Philippe said he'd ask his father for me since he's lived in the area his whole life. Oh, speaking of Philippe, I've been so wrapped up in this letter I forgot to ask how the rest of last night went."

Juliette shrugs. "Bien...good. He walked me home."

"And? Juliette, you're killing me! I need to know more. How long had it been since you saw one another?"

Juliette swats her hand at me and says with a click of her tongue, "Too many questions."

"Ok, so you said you knew each other a long time ago. How long is a long time ago?"

Juliette sighs. "We met when we were children at school. I had a crush, as you say. We were friends for a long time, but then he left for University."

"Just friends?"

Juliette shakes her head, "No, more than friends. He broke my heart."

Ah-ha! I knew there was a backstory. "And you haven't seen each other since? Or spoken?"

"Ah no, Lara, not till the pub. I was very surprised!" Juliette shakes her head. "I hear he is home, but the restaurant keeps me occupied. I did not try and contact him."

"Locquirec is so small that I'm surprised you didn't run into each other sooner," I say, but then realize I've never asked Philippe where he lives, I just assumed locally. I steal a glance at Juliette, but her face betrays nothing. She is so good at hiding her feelings while my face on the other hand betrays everything I'm thinking. I wonder if Philippe tried to find Juliette when he came back.

Juliette clears her throat and asks nonchalantly, "You and Philippe are friends only?"

"Just friends," I assure her, and catch a glimpse of a slight smile on her face in response.

"So, no one special for you Lara? Someone waiting at home for you?"

"That is a rather complicated question at the moment," I answer. I fill her in briefly on what happened between me and Jake.

"This Jake.... he is...you are close to each other?"

"Yes, we are, which is why it's so complicated. He has been there for me more than I can explain. I don't want to lose him. Even though right now I don't know where we stand."

"Matters of the heart are très compliqué," Juliette says with understanding.

Very complicated? Yes, I'd say so.

~*~

Mont Saint-Michel is an amazing sight to behold. Known for its Abbey and medieval town, this island city is a must-see of Northern France. The entire island is the small city, set off from the mainland and surrounded by shimmering sand and small pools of water. The little island city pokes up out of a low bank of fog and resembles a mirage or a distant land from a dream.

Instead of taking the bus across the thoroughfare, we decide to walk from the parking lot. The air is crisp and cool and as we get closer the sun peeks out from the clouds as church bells chime melodically over the city. As I gaze in the direction of the church bells, I see the Abbey at the very top of this uniquely circular city, a golden statue of a saint at its pinnacle, reaching towards heaven.

"The tide is out but we will be surrounded by water very soon," Juliette says, leading me to the main entrance.

It's hard to imagine being surrounded by water when as far as the eye can see there's no ocean and no water, save for the small puddles scattered throughout the sandy landscape.

When we reach the entrance we find the cobblestone streets crowded, even though it's the offseason for tourism. People jostle together up narrow streets lined by equally narrow and tall medieval-looking buildings, all crammed together - seemingly built on one another.

There's something about this place that draws me in, even more so than Lannion. Quaint isn't the right word for it – it's magical, like in a fairytale. I expect at any moment a dragon might circle overhead. I laugh at myself for thinking this, and Juliette looks at me with a raised eyebrow.

"I think I need to eat. I'm losing it. And then even though it's cliché I want a couple of souvenirs too."

"No problem, let us eat." She glances down at the pamphlet in her hand. "Then we can tour the Monastery and the Abbey. There is a tour that starts in one hour."

An hour later with a full belly, I'm happy to be away from the crowds and on our guided tour.

We're being led up the wide steps towards the Monastery by our tour guide when Juliette whispers to me, "This Benedictine Abbey was not just a church but a fortress."

"That would explain why it resembles a castle, complete with gargoyles," I answer while looking up at the menacing stone creatures with a shiver.

The fog has lifted completely now, replaced by sunshine, and seagulls circle and cry above the water that has started enveloping the city walls. We reach our first stop inside the Abbey and my breath catches in my throat. The architecture is nothing short of marvelous artwork, the domed ceiling as tall as a five-story building. There is absolute splendor to this place, and although I've never been one for church, it feels otherworldly. Spread throughout this cathedral are many many tourists in silent prayers, heads bowed.

Suddenly out of the corner of my eye I notice a hooded figure move along one of the walls. He looks like a monk and quickly disappears in a side door.

Turning to Juliette I whisper, "Is this still an active monastery?"

Juliette nods. "I think so."

Our tour guide takes us further and deeper into the Abbey and the rooms become darker with fewer windows. Though I'm amazed at everything I'm seeing I can't help but think this tour is moving dreadfully slow, and I get a juvenile urge to go exploring by myself.

An opportunity presents itself as a moment later another monk appears and moves through a narrow passageway in the corner of the room. I might be imagining things, but I have no idea where he just came from. Just one peek and then I'll rejoin the tour, I tell myself as I creep alone towards the entrance, my curiosity getting the better of me.

Finding myself in a narrow corridor that seems to be going deeper into the monastery, there are no signs of any monks. But this place is like a puzzle, so who knows where he went. Taking a couple more flights of stairs down, I pass under an entryway and find myself in a dark, damp room with arched pillars throughout. It feels and looks like a catacomb. Suppressing a shiver, I decide to head back before I get any more lost.

But turning around there is more than one arched doorway - all identical - and I don't recognize the one I came through.

"Oh bother," I mumble.

Deciding on one finally that could be the right direction, I find myself stepping into a great hall. It has large, high ceilings, narrow slits for windows, and large fireplaces that take up opposite ends of the room. But instead of being down below in the actual hall itself, I find myself on a narrow walkway with a bird's eye view of the entire room. The hall is filled with people bustling about and I move quickly behind a pillar and peek down at the scene below.

Many robed monks mill about, most everyone else in elaborate costumes fit for a fancy renaissance fair, and then some cameramen. Why is there a camera crew, I wonder while edging closer to get a better look. The hall is noisy with everyone talking below and my footsteps go unheard. Peering over the balcony, I set down my bag of souvenirs on the ledge.

I don't notice until it's too late that my souvenirs have started tumbling out of their bag and are slowly careening towards the edge of the balcony. Frantically grasping at them before they fall, my hand knocks a bar of soap, causing it to fly over the balcony to the room below. I watch in horror as it falls and solidly lands on a monk's head before bouncing to the ground.

The room goes completely silent as every eye turns in my direction. I wave slightly with a grimace - just kill me now. The robed man it landed on rubs his head and looks up at me in confusion.

I hear someone yell, "Get this tourist out of here! Why is there a bloody tourist on my set?!"

"So sorry!" I yell back while quickly grabbing my things and scrambling back the way I came.

I notice a DO NOT ENTER sign posted by the entryway on my way out that I overlooked. Oh Lara, you oaf, I silently admonish myself. Finding myself back in the eerie catacomb room again I look around trying to decide where to go now.

Then a monk suddenly appears from one of the arched entrances with my bar of soap in hand.

"So, we meet again," he says while approaching.

That voice, I know that voice...

The man removes his hood to reveal a familiar head of blond hair and piercing blue eyes.

The stranger from Lannion!