The opportunity came finally when her father went to Paris for a week, for UN meetings over the tensions in the Middle East. As a neutral country, Liechtenstein's contributions were valuable, despite its tiny size. And her father was a deeply respected man on the international political scene. He was well known for his integrity and sound judgment.
She called Parker as soon as he left. He was going to San Francisco for Thanksgiving in a few weeks, but he said he could fly to Europe to meet her first. Paris was out, because her father was there. London was always a hotbed of press. And Parker came up with a wonderful suggestion, which she loved.
“What about Venice?”
“It's cold in winter, but it's so beautiful. I'd love that.” And there was a good chance it would be deserted and no one would discover them. It was a spring and summer destination for lovers, not a winter one. It seemed perfect to them, and particularly to Christianna. Venice in winter seemed like the perfect place to say a tragic last goodbye.
She made her own arrangements by phone, which was more complicated than she thought it would be. And finally she had to take her secretary Sylvie into her confidence, because she needed a palace credit card to pay for her tickets. She had agreed to meet Parker there. Sam and Max had already said they would come with her, although they had some trepidation about it, once they suspected who she'd be meeting there. She told them she would take full responsibility for it, and two days later they were on the plane. Sylvie had been instructed to tell her father that she was going to a spa in Switzerland. But he was far too busy with the UN in Paris to call.
She left in darkest secrecy, and was more than a little nervous about it. But no matter what they did to her after this, or said to her, she had to see Parker one last time.
Sylvie had made reservations for them at the Gritti Palace. They had two rooms, as they'd done in Paris, but only planned to use one. And he was waiting for her at the hotel when she arrived. She called him, and he was in her room instantly, and she was in his arms. He had never looked more beautiful to her, nor she to him. She cried when she saw him, and moments later he had her laughing. They were days of laughter and tears, and endless love.
The weather was beautiful and sunny, they walked miles everywhere. They went to churches and museums, ate in tiny restaurants and trattorie, avoiding all the fashionable places where they might get caught, although Venice seemed almost deserted at that time of year. They walked through the Piazza San Marco, looking at the pigeons, went to mass in St. Mark's Cathedral, and took a gondola under the Bridge of Sighs, the Ponte dei Sospiri, as he looked at her happily. It was like a dream for both of them, and neither of them wanted to ever wake up.
“You know what that means, don't you?” he whispered, after they glided slowly under the Bridge of Sighs. The gondolier had sung to them, and Christianna was lying against him, totally content, covered in a blanket in the cool November air.
“What?” She looked peaceful and sounded dreamy as she looked up at him with a smile. They had been from Africa to Paris and now to Venice, but the journey they had shared would have to end here. She wasn't thinking about that then, just about how happy she was.
“Once we go under the Bridge of Sighs together, we belong to each other forever. That's what the legend says, and I believe it. Do you?” Parker asked as he pulled her close to him.
“Yes,” she said quietly. She had no doubt that she would love him for the rest of her life, but doubted she would ever see him again after this. And then she turned to look at him and told him again how much she loved him, so he would never forget this moment either. The difference between them was that in her head and heart she was freeing him, to go on and lead a life without her, almost as though she were going to die. In fact, her heart was doomed, at her father's hands. She would live her dutiful life forever, and then one day she would retire quietly. She had no intention of marrying some prince her father might introduce her to at some later time. She knew without hesitating for an instant that Parker was the love of her life. And in his innocence, as they drifted through Venice, holding hands and kissing, Parker had no idea what was in her mind. She was planning to tell him on the last night.
On their second day in Venice, they wandered in and out of shops under the arcade. They were mostly jewelers and a few antique shops. They finally walked into one tiny little shop in the corner under the arcade. They had some crosses Christianna wanted to look at, and they walked in, hand in hand. The shopkeeper was ancient, and Christianna spoke to him in Italian about the crosses while Parker poked around, and then noticed something in a display case that caught his eye. It was a narrow gold band with tiny emerald hearts embedded in it. It was obviously antique and well worn, but the color of the stones was pretty, and he pointed it out to Christianna and told her to ask the man how much. He quoted an absurdly low price, and when they both looked startled by how cheap it was for something so pretty, he apologized and reduced the price further. Parker gestured for him to take it out of the case so Christianna could try it on, and she was touched. He slipped it onto her finger and it fit perfectly, as though it had been made for her or belonged to her in another lifetime. The tiny bright green emeralds came alive on her delicate hand. Parker beamed at her, and paid the man as she looked at him in amazement, and then at the lovely band she was wearing.
“I don't know what you call it when you ask a princess to marry you, particularly when you're about to be beheaded by her father.”
“A guillotine ring, I think,” she said, smiling, and he laughed out loud.
“Exactly. That's our guillotine ring, Your Highness,” he said with a very creditable bow, as though he had done it a thousand times. “One day I'll replace it with a better one, if they'll ever let me. But in the meantime, that's so you know I love you, and I mean it. And if we go to the guillotine together, or I go by myself, at least you'll have something to remember me by.”
“I'll always remember you, Parker,” she said, with tears filling her eyes. And for the first time, as she looked at him, she realized that he knew as well as she did what this trip was. It was their goodbye, either forever or perhaps for a very long time. It would have been hard if not impossible for her to continue to sneak away to see him. It had been nothing short of a miracle for her to be able to do so this time. He knew perfectly what was happening, and so did she. They were storing away memories now, until they met again, if they ever could. Like squirrels in winter, gathering nuts to save for when they were starving. Their life of starvation would begin the day they left Venice. Until then, they were celebrating the abundance of their love. The little emerald ring served to confirm it, and when he slipped it onto her finger and told her he loved her, she vowed to herself and to him that she would never take it off. They referred to it after that as her guillotine ring, which always made her smile.
They visited the Doge's Palace and the Pisani Palace, and then the Pesaro Palace, and the Church of Santa Maria della Salute, and Christianna particularly wanted to visit Santa Maria dei Miracoli, because she wanted to pray for a miracle for them. It was the only thing that would help them now.
They shared their last dinner in a tiny restaurant on one of the smaller canals. A man sang love songs to them, with a mandolin, and whenever they weren't eating, they held hands. They took a gondola back to the hotel, and stood outside for a long moment, in the moonlight, looking at each other. Each moment they had shared in the past few days was etched forever in their minds.