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“This was the home of the famous Medici Family from 1444 to 1494. However it hadn’t been finished until 1484.” Claire tightened her hands on the brochures. For some reason, even though her family thought she would enjoy seeing Rome on her trip to Italy, she had wanted to stop in Florence the most. Something drew her to the city, to this Museum in particular. She paused in the courtyard, falling behind the group. The sudden feeling of deja vu filled her vision. Children laughing mixed with cries of sorrow and fear. Happiness and Joy followed quickly by dread and despair. Her hand reached up to grasp the cross hanging around her neck. A family heirloom her grandmother had left her.
“You know they say that the Medici still haunt this place. Not enough gold in the world would solve your problems.” She turned to meet the eyes of a man, his brown eyes meeting hers. A sudden jolt of recognition faded into her view, seeing him with much longer hair and a beard. It flashed in between his clean shaven face and his short hair. She took a step back almost tripping, only to have him reach forward and keep her from falling.
“Sorry.” She whispered, her heart racing at the sight of him and his touch.
“You from England?” His accent was not from Europe.
“London. American?” he nodded.
“I could fake a different one if you like. Most people don’t like Americans.”
“Well your rude and loud.”
“Here I thought the English were stuck up and prudish.” He retorted sarcastically. Claire removed her hand from his grasp.
“I should rejoin the tour.” He waved his hand allowing her to walk first. He followed soon after a few steps behind. The tour guide was walking through the old halls they were allowed in.
“So what brought you to Florence?” He got a few stares from the people around him, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“I wanted to visit the city for its history.”
“Smart and beautiful.” Claire rolled her eyes at him, keeping up with the back of the group.
“My grandmother is from here. Brought my Brother and sister with her to see the city that she grew up in.”
“Well, you should be paying attention in order to learn about the city.” They paused at the a windowsill where they could look out at the gardens inside. His hands gripping the railing, she watched his eyes dance over the green grass in the center. It was as if he was seeing ghosts.
“Are you alright?” her hand placing softly the back of his. His eyes finding hers, a sense of familiarity of her touch on his, caused him great comfort.
“Have you ever had Deja vu before? I have, but never like this.”
“What’s your name?” Claire, found him wrapping her hand in his. The strange american didn’t seem strange or weird to her.
“Friends call me Renzo. What’s yours?”
“Friends call me Claire.”
“Is that a nickname for something?”
“Clarice, my grandfather named me.” A smile tugged on the corner of his lips.
“What?”
“My grandmother wanted me to have an Italian name, after one of the greatest men to ever rule Florence.”
“Lorenzo Medici…” She looked into his eyes, a sparkle of something passing through.
“Whom was married to a Clarice Orsini. It seems we have met before.” A smile drawing on her lips.