After a fitful night dreaming of chocolate and being chased by sunflowers that had pulled themselves up from the ground, grown legs and were always a few yards behind her, reaching for her, scaring her half awake in the process, all night long, Isabella didn't feel at her finest.
She would need all her courage to go seek out the baker and return his recipe cards.
What if he was married?
What if he didn't feel the same ?
She tried to think positive and soon was lost in her drawing as she felt herself grow quiet in the blending of color on her palette. This was her true love.
Creating something beautiful that soothed the senses and calmed the restless soul was all she needed to be complete.
For Isabella the act of telling a story with her brushes was as joyful as when she would make up fairy tales for the chickens back home. She felt so alive here in Paris and was amazed again by the way the city made her feel!
Everywhere she turned was a new and wondrous sight!
The dancers at the Moulin Rouge had made her feel courageous and daring and now after tossing and turning all night she wasn't as sure of herself.
Maybe tomorrow she would be brave enough to start her quest. So, Isabella worked at her easel the rest of the day and finally at sunset put her paints away and cleaned her brushes and went to the balcony and sighed as she looked out over the city lights.
It certainly was beautiful here, no matter what time of day it was.
She would always treasure her memories of Paris and her time spent here.
Last week she had gone to several galleries and her mind had swarmed with images like the bee keeps back at the cottage. Each new work of art entertained her with its textures and colors all flying in her field of vision to gain her attention and win her heart. Unable to decide on her favorite she had given up even trying.
She would love them all! Walking back to her hotel she had thought about how to keep from forgetting everything she was experiencing, for she didn't own a camera or tape recorder.
She had decided to make a book of her adventures and would write it all down and illustrate it and stitch it all together. She had already accumulated lots of mementos and couldn't wait to begin her new project.
It was with these thoughts that she went to sleep that night and soon found herself dreaming of the most enchanted garden with flower fairies and pixies dancing about.
Isabella smiled in her sleep as beautiful velvet gowned maids came with trays of tiny fruit tarts and pies with rose petals scattered about releasing the most intoxicating smells and aromas.
She woke feeling as if she had been the most pampered princess in Paris and couldn't help but feel that today was the day to seek out her Prince Charming.
She could just imagine herself having tea and conversation with the handsome baker as the birds serenaded them with love songs.
Isabella quickly went about her morning routine and was soon walking down the street past the galleries and bookstores when she came upon a sign for a Patisserie.
Gypsy Tarts it said in gilded art nouveau lettering on the glass window and above was a wooden sign with a painting of a Gypsy with wings holding a tart! That was certainly clever!
She peeked inside to see if she could see the the baker and was surprised to find two little girls looking right at her!
Taking a step back away from the window she decided to go in instead of run which was what she would normally have done. Paris had given her the courage of Joan of Arc and she would not be afraid to follow her heart!
As she went inside she was almost overwhelmed by the smell of lavender and peaches and couldn't take her eyes from the cases filled with lovely treats! They were all so deliciously beautiful and covered with tiny roses and edible flowers made from fondant. She wanted to taste one of each!
A woman's voice from behind the counter asked if there was something she would like and as she tore her eyes away from the pastry she saw the most gorgeous woman she had ever seen.
She was dressed like a gypsy and reminded her of the image painted on the sign out front. This must be the bakers wife and those adorable young girls dressed in Marie Antoinette costumes must be his daughters and she should just leave the recipes before she embarrassed herself in front of them!
She placed the cards on the counter and said I found these and I think they belong to the baker who owns this shop, please give them to him for me. A movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention and she turned to see the baker coming from the kitchen in the back!
Then she was suddenly out the door and nearly running back to her hotel with her face on fire and a coldness creeping into her heart and almost shutting her throat. She took short hot breaths as she tried to calm herself and not cry right there in front of the people passing her by.
She was foolish.
She had always been foolish.
She made up things in her head and painted pictures of imaginary worlds and she couldn't blame anyone but herself for the pain she was beginning to feel in the pit of her stomach.
She had gotten lucky with the success at the Gallery but it wasn't going to be as easy to find a husband! Well, she knew she didn't need one anyway, or at least her sensible side knew that!
She decided to paint some more and then go home. She longed to see her Father's smile and only a hug from Sadie would help mend this torn place inside her that seemed to grow blackened with frostbite with each passing moment.
Climbing under the covers, safe in her room, she remembered Scarlett's words of tomorrow and squeezed her eyes shut pushing out the tears waiting there and prayed for sleep.
Isabella had always sought sleep to overcome her blue moods and this was the only thing she could do. She knew better than to believe in love at first sight and she would get up tomorrow without any nonsensical ideas stealing her attention and get to work and then see the sights and then plan her return home, where she knew she belonged.
~to be continued~