The Aspects of Love
It's about love. . . overcoming all obstacles.
~Christian Everett

Chapter I: Tonight

Nineteen year old Margaret Everett looked distinctly out of place in the small French train station. However, with her old-fashioned black cashmere dress and tightly braided hair, she would have looked out of place anywhere remotely fashionable. Clutching her bag tightly as if it was the only thing holding her to the earth, she sat down on her trunk and tried not to burst into tears.

Satine broke away from their kiss laughingly. We're going to be late!

Not that late, he responded, putting his hands around her slender waist.

But I'll have to redo my hair, Satine argued, partially for her benefit as well as for his. And you know how shy Margaret is, she'll probably be terrified, and she's going to be here-- She was broken off by another kiss.

Satine summoned up every inch of her willpower and took her hat.

We. Are. Leaving. Christian only stood their, his look tempting her to put the hat down. she finished, and threw his coat at him. Christian only laughed and followed her.

Should we take Celeste? he asked, pulling his coat on as Satine hunted up her gloves. She paused for a moment, tempted, then shook her head. We'd have to take the carriage then and it'll be much slower. It'll save time if we just go by ourselves in the car.

All right, Christian agreed, catching his hat on the way out the door and shrugging his duster on. These things, he grumbled, are perfectly ridiculous. Satine raised an eyebrow.

Do you recall what happened after you didn't wear it that one Sunday? Satine asked pointedly, remembering the fine, white dust that had completely covered Christian from head to toe.

Ah, yes. Well, then. He glanced down at the floor and grinned at her. Let's go, Satine, we're going to be late. Satine sighed and followed him out the door.

Margaret! Hello, dear! Margaret glanced up from her silent vigil and smiled for the first time in the past few days. Satine hurried towards her and kissed her cheek warmly.

Hello, Satine. Hello, Christian.

I'm sorry we're late, Margaret, Christian said seriously. But Satine was running behind-- he was interrupted by another raise of his wife's eyebrow. Three times in a row of that and he'd be in real trouble. I mean, that is, I was running late. Margaret looked and Satine and the two of them burst out giggling.

I'm very glad you've come to stay, Margaret, Satine said happily to her sister-in-law. You'll love Celeste.

She's crawling now, Christian added proudly. And she gabbles all day long. Margaret smiled timidly as she climbed into the car.

She sounds wonderful. Christian, Mama wanted you to send some pictures of her. I think Father wanted them as well, although he wouldn't say so for the world.

Maybe for the world, Satine said wryly.

As Satine pushed the door open that led to the nursery, she heard Margaret give a tiny, wistful sigh. The room was a bower of soft yellows and whites, and in the very center of it Celeste was contentedly sleeping.

Satine called softly, bending over the crib to smile at her baby while Margaret timidly hung a few feet behind. To Satine's delight, Celeste stirred, her enormous blue eyes looking up into her mother's. Good morning, fairy darling. Or afternoon, rather. She picked the baby up , fussing over her all the while, and held her up to meet her aunt.

Margaret sighed, tentatively extending a finger, which Celeste lazily grasped and held onto. She's beautiful, Satine . . . so beautiful.

Satine smiled as she watched Margaret cradle Celeste in her arms. The younger woman had been born for motherhood, and she hoped that she could experience it soon. And yet. . . there was something very engaging and mysterious about her sister-in-law, although Satine couldn't explain it.

She tried to put it into words as she sat back on the bed, watching Christian sort through some papers. He listened carefully as she spoke and paused before making his answer.

I suppose, he replied finally, propping his head against his hand. Maybe she'll blossom out a little bit here, away from Father and Mother.

I hope so, Satine said thoughtfully, wrapping her arms around her legs and laying her head down on her knees. Christian went back to his story while she sat there in silence for the next few minutes. The pale gold sunset darkened to a soft blue twilight, banded with dark streaks of cloud. Satine glanced down at her hands, and then at her husband.





I'm starting to feel older. Christian looked up at her, puzzled, his black hair falling in his face as he did so.

Satine, darling, you're not even thirty yet. And don't even begin to suggest that you're losing your looks. Satine laughed a little at that.

No, it's not that. . . I mean, it's this. Celeste. Do you realize that we've been married nearly three years now? Christian put his papers down and came to sit next to her. She rested her head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her.

What's bothering you, Satine? he asked, his voice muffled against her hair.

I don't know, Satine said slowly. I suppose . . . well, I suppose this is how it feels to be really grown up. I'm not acting any longer.

Christian was silent for a moment, and Satine felt a touch of anxiety herself. The last two years had not been easy for either of them. The shadow of her illness had darkened the first months of their marriage, and then they had had to travel to England. Jealousy, pain, anger, confusion, separation-- all of that had marred the perfect love she remembered from the days at Montmartre. Both of them had learned the costs of love well, and from silent, mutual agreement, had agreed to not speak of those times. Until now.

I know, he said quietly, caressing her shoulder as he spoke. I know.

It's strange, isn't it? Satine asked, looking up into his eyes. They were still as blue and gentle as they had been when she had first looked into them. Strange how some things changed while others resolutely stayed the same.

he said, perceiving her unvoiced thought. But come what may, Satine. Satine nodded and sank back into his arms.

Come what may, she agreed. Christian kissed her forehead and then looked down into her eyes. Placing her hand on his cheek, she kissed him slowly and tenderly, her arms drawing him nearer. Finally she drew back, more out of necessity for air than anything else.

she whispered to him. Christian kissed her in response, feeling the same unaccountable surge of joy that came from loving her. She completed him, in a way that he'd never dreamed that anyone could. He remembered wondering in his youth whether or not soulmates existed.

He'd never doubted that after meeting Satine.

he agreed, and all was lost in their next kiss.

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Author's Note: All characters are property of their respective owners. Some are used without permission, but with lots of tender, loving care. Suing me will get you absolutely nothing, except a lot of attorney fees.

This is a sequel to The Price of Love, and while I suppose this could be read on its own, I highly recommend reading its predecessor.

Reviews are always appreciated!