Chapter 1: Heartbreak in Paris

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REVISED

My dearest brother,

Hello again, I regret to inform you that Ms. Dove and I have been set back a few days during our trip to your loop. I am sorry I had left in the first place.

How are things? How are the kids? Oh, I haven't seen Fiona in a very long time. I do miss her. Tell her I said hello, okay?

I feel as if you are holding out on me, Hugh. Tell me more about this boy you mentioned, he seems very interesting, a great story.

Mary

CURRENT DAY
CAIRHOLM, WALES
SEPTEMBER 3, 1940

"Miss Dove, please hurry! I am dying to get there!"

Mary trots up a hill toward the tree line, waving back at the elder ymbryne.

"You know the way, child. Go, I will meet you there." Miss Dove takes a moment to rest on a nearby bench.

Without hesitation, Mary darts toward the forest. Branches from trees whip past her, clawing at her face and arms, but she hardly noticed. All that was on her mind was her kid brother.

Although she knew it wasn't possible— she wondered if he had gotten taller, if his hair had grown, or if his voice had deepen. How had he changed since she saw him last? Did he still fancy soccer? How about playing in the gardens? How were the gardens? Were they still trimmed primly or overgrown?

Mary's mind raced just as she did toward the caves leading to her old and new home.

As she cleared the narrow caves and stumbled into the open fields of Miss Peregrine's loop a smile broke out on her face.

"Hugh! I am home!" 

With the sound of her voice, six children and a outfit of floating clothes rush toward her.

"Bronwyn, Claire, Millard, my twins!" She cheered as the children crashed into her, hugging her. She saved her favorites for last.

"Oh, Fiona and Hugh." Mary gushed and hugged them.

"Mary, I missed you so much! Welcome home, big sister." Hugh cried and latched to her waist.

"Hello, my flower child." Mary smiled and hugged Fiona.

"I missed you all."

Miss Peregrine follows behind them, with a stylish walk.

"Welcome back, Mary." She smiles, hugging me gently.

"Mary, my love, welcome home." Horace says primly and kisses her hand.

Mary shakes her head, laughing at his still apparent crush.

"Oh, Mary! You must tell me of your adventures!" Olive raved, squeezing her tightly.

"Hello, Emma," Mary smiles, "Watch my toes." She winked and hugged her.

"Mary, I don't believe you have met Enoch." Miss Peregrine smiles, stepping aside to reveal the boy from Hugh's letters. Hugh did not do him justice.

"Hello, Enoch. I am Mary Apiston, nice to meet you." Mary smiled.

Enoch gives her a small smile for the sake of Miss Peregrine.

"Well, now that we are all acquainted again, time for lunch!" Miss Peregrine grins, nibbling on her pipe.

The twins grab my hands and pull me toward the house.

"We are having your favorite, Mary! Clam chowder and bread!" Hugh laughs, chasing behind us.
****

"Mary, tell me what you have been up to. I am absolutely dying to know."

Miss Dove and Miss Peregrine were having tea together in the garden as the children played. They were catching up briefly before Miss Dove had to leave for her own loop again.

Mary and Olive currently sat in their shared bedroom, on an old dusty couch in the corner.

From the end of lunch time until the beginning of dinner time, Olive and Mary sat together and chatted about life, adventures, love, and heartbreak.

It had been the first time she had spoken of William, a man who had stolen her heart in 1940s Paris, France. Their love had been brief but it was love all the same.

After Mary had decided to move on to her next escapade, William and her had to say goodbye. Mary always knew that she would have to leave Paris— leave William, that is why she had held onto her heart so tightly. She didn't want to fall in love with a boy she would eventually leave.

If it were up to her, she would have stayed with him; but, it wasn't, it was her sense of adventure that drove her away. She would have loved him for all her days to come, if Paris hadn't became too much. She grew stir-crazy, not being able to leave the small area of the loop drove her mad. She had to go— so go she went.

And her heart stayed in Paris.

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