Sofia’s Story: Book Four in the Portraits in Blue Series by Fields-Schneider Penny

Author:Fields-Schneider, Penny
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781922747013
Publisher: PFS Publishing
Published: 2022-01-30T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

Elizabeth didn’t leave Sofia’s side as they prepared for bed that night. They’d agreed to share the bed in Sofia’s room, where the morning sunshine would wake them. Sofia squirmed for a while, trying to get comfortable, until finally Elizabeth intervened.

‘Why don’t you put a pillow in front of you? You can cuddle it, see?’

Elizabeth was right; the pillow tucked across her belly was somewhat comfortable, and Sofia fell into a deep sleep. She didn’t wake until the early morning, at the sound of Elizabeth calling her.

‘Come, Sofia, You must look at this! Our coffee will be here soon. Bring your blanket and we can sit out on the balcony and wait for it to arrive.’

Sofia joined Elizabeth, and together they leaned over the iron rail looking at the view. Dawn was breaking over Paris, casting a soft glow across the city. They watched as the sun’s fingers crept over the buildings to their right, reaching through the alleys and onto the street below them. Rays reflected gloriously off the roofs, walls and the cobblestones set in shell patterns on the roads. To their left, the Seine glistened with sparkles of pure gold as sunlight bounced off the breeze-touched water, a thousand ripples dancing with flashes of light.

A knock at the door alerted them the breakfast they’d ordered the previous evening had arrived. Steaming coffee, fresh fruit and ham and cheese croissants were delivered on a silver tray by a friendly woman wearing a jaunty headscarf. After placing the tray on the balcony table between them, she insisted that if they needed anything more, they should press the buzzer on the bedside table, then bid them good-day.

‘Isn’t this the most perfect morning you could imagine?’ Elizabeth asked between sips of the coffee, but Sofia’s mind had returned to Catalonia and the events of the past week.

‘I cannot believe Spain has changed so much,’ she said. ‘It used to be such a happy place!’

‘Perhaps your memories were formed through the eyes of childhood,’ Elizabeth said with gentle tact. ‘Children are often oblivious to the political troubles in their country, unless, of course, it’s outright war! Those poor children in Figueres won’t have much joy to remember, will they? For most of us, childhood was about playing with our siblings—climbing trees and making up ghost stories.’

‘I think you are right. My memories are exactly like that… playing in the orchard with Andres while our father tended to the trees or planted vegetables in the garden beds.’

‘It sounds beautiful, Sofia. My childhood was wonderful, too. Mostly riding horses and brushing horses and feeding horses. Marcus was far too studious to get his hands dirty in the stables. He spent his life with his nose in a book while I ran wild outdoors.’

‘Do you think, after breakfast, we arrange to board tonight’s channel crossing?’ Elizabeth asked. ‘I am keen to get home, suddenly.’

Sofia nodded in agreement; she didn’t mind at all. However, despite sleeping reasonably well, she felt exhausted, and her back ached badly.

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