Months went by. Babar was just pulling on his red bow tie and looking out the window. He had spent the last several weeks watching the view change. This morning he could see the new road leading all the way through the woods to the Lake. The elephant and rhino workers had just finished the day before, and at the urging of Pompadour, Babar had prepared a speech to formally dedicate the land as a historical site. But he would not deliver it until the next day, not until after he had had a chance to pay a visit to his birthplace himself. He wanted it to be just him and his mother.

Things had improved in Celesteville all around. The day after signing the agreement with Rataxes, Babar announced to Celesteville that the land dispute had ended. More appealing to his citizens was the news he shared with them next. He remembered glowing with pride as Celeste joined him on the balcony and announced her pregnancy. The crowd exploded into cheers, but Babar didn't hear it. He was lost in his thoughts, grateful that war had been narrowly averted, that he had preserved the disputed territory for Celesteville, and that his first child was on the way.

Celeste was sitting at the table, sipping hot tea, when Babar emerged through the dining room door. "Good morning, sweetheart," he said, giving her a kiss on the forehead before sitting down to enjoy some tea himself. "How did you sleep?"

"Not badly," said Celeste. "I hope you've been sleeping well now that I'm taking up so much room." She stroked her growing belly, and Babar smiled. "What are you up to today?" she asked him.

His face lit up. "Besides some paperwork, nothing. I had Pompadour clear my schedule so I could make a trip to the Lake this afternoon. After almost losing the land, I won't take it for granted again."

Celeste put down the mug. "I don't think the rhinos will take their water for granted again either. Now they will have enough water to last until the rainy season… thanks to someone not too far from here." She rose to leave. "I was going to give Lady Rataxes a call today to see how she is doing. We haven't spoken for quite a while."

"You do that. I'll catch up with you a little later."

"Bye-bye," said Celeste, making her way down the hall. During the recent months of overseeing the work on the historical site that would be established and planning for the new baby, she had lost track of time and had not spoken with her friend. She remembered phoning Lady Rataxes months before, under less pleasant circumstances. At least this time the two could just enjoy being friends and forget the political agenda that sometimes governed their interactions.

She dialed. "Hello?" answered Lady Rataxes.

"Hi, Louise. It's Celeste."

"Oh, Celeste! So good to hear from you. We have a lot to catch up on!" Lady Rataxes seemed to be bubbling over with excitement. Though Celeste knew that Lady Rataxes could become enthusiastic about anything at all, this sounded like more than satisfaction with the water agreement. "How have you been?"

"Very—"

"Glad to hear it. You sound well. I'm not doing badly myself. You can't imagine how much has been going on around here!"

"Has the—"

"I was devastated to have to let the pool go. But for the good of the people, sometimes you have to make a little sacrifice. Thanks to our husbands' treaty, there is plenty of water to get by, and then some. You know, you're very lucky to have Babar. He's so thoughtful, and I'm sure he'll make a great dad." She paused to sigh, then picked up where she left off. "So that's the good news. But let me tell you the best news!" Lady Rataxes waited for Celeste to respond. Celeste was silent, knowing she would be interrupted by the best news. "I'm pregnant!"

"Congratulations, Louise!" Celeste was thrilled, and at the same time relieved that she would not be alone anymore; this would mark one more experience the two could go through together. "When did you find out?"

"Just last week! We've been trying for months. Or rather, I've been trying for months, and I don't think Rataxes has been trying at all. Anyway, I'm looking forward to the sound of little feet running around." Lady Rataxes was not about to cast off her veneer of pride to tell Celeste that she had hoped to begin a family, like Celeste and Babar. To have a loving marriage, like Celeste and Babar. Now it seemed like the wish was coming true. She was not about to let Rataxes' pacing and particularly tense mood ruin that. "How have you been getting along the last few months?"

"I'm feeling fine, but I'm outgrowing my clothes so fast. I didn't think I would get so big so soon," she said, rubbing her belly.

Lady Rataxes became sentimental. "I'm sure it's wonderfully exciting! You must be able to feel the heartbeat."

Quickly, before her friend could interrupt, Celeste answered, "Yes. It's…" She felt around, but it seemed to be everywhere. It was on the left. It was on the right. It was at the top. "I can feel it. But I'm wondering if 'it' is really 'them.'" Celeste had to pull the phone away from her ear to protect it from Lady Rataxes' shout of delight. The thought had crossed Celeste's mind before, but she had always brushed it away, unable to picture herself going from a wife and Queen to a wife, Queen, and mother of three besides. Now she was pleased to know that she could have been right. She pulled the phone back to her ear.

Trying to contain herself, Lady Rataxes asked, "So, have you told Babar yet?"

"Oh no," Celeste laughed. "I wasn't sure of it; it was just a suspicion."

"Don't second-guess mother's instinct. Feminine intuition is never wrong! I'm hoping for a girl, but I just have a feeling that it's going to be a little boy, and Rataxes is going to see it as some kind of victory."

"I think just about any father would," said Celeste. Lady Rataxes quite agreed with her.

When Celeste finally put down the phone, she was starting to be hungry for lunch. She opened the door, took a step out, then stopped in her tracks, seeing that she had nearly tripped over Troubadour. "Sorry, Troubadour." He shook his head jovially, not at all bothered. Pompadour emerged from behind the open door, looking flustered; to avoid being hit by the door, he had darted backwards, scattering the papers within the file he had been carrying all over the hall. "Here, let me help you," said Celeste apologetically.

Pompadour raised an eyebrow, somewhat surprised that Celeste would take the time to help him. They had had their share of disagreements, personal and political. But he knew that didn't stop her from being kind. As she handed him the last of the stray papers, she said, "I hear from Lady Rataxes that the arrangement you made with Basil really saved the day. She said she expected that the rhinos would be charged for the water, but instead you arranged for the help they needed, but also gave us what we needed. A true negotiator."

Blushing, Pompadour looked down to shuffle the papers back in order. "Why, thank you." He was honoured to hear such praise from Celeste, when he felt she owed him none. He looked down at her large belly, knowing she had more on her mind than the wording in some months-old treaty. She valued his work. "I never congratulated you properly," he continued, gesturing with his trunk towards her belly. "So, congratulations. I'm sure the two of you will be fine parents. After all, you are already the parents of the people! I imagine you must be accompanying his Majesty to the memorial this afternoon? The…" Pompadour looked down to find Troubadour pulling on his suit coat. "I suppose we must get back to business. A diplomat's work is never done!" The two disappeared around a corner. Troubadour rolled his eyes; he had been more interested in preventing Pompadour from a flamboyant display than moving on to the next engagement for the day.

It had never occurred to Celeste that she would not be going with Babar that afternoon, and she was looking forward to it. "It will be just like when we were children. Just the two of us," said Celeste, shuffling off to the dining room.

Meanwhile, Pompadour and Troubadour continued down the hall to Babar's office to drop off the file. On the way, they spotted Cornelius, persistently trying to straighten a picture hanging on the wall. Every time it swayed to a slant, Cornelius muttered and righted it, only to watch it swivel again. Troubadour tilted his head, following the picture, then straightened, and tilted his head with the picture once more. Just when Cornelius looked as though he wanted to rip the picture from the wall, Pompadour reached up to help Cornelius balance it. When they let go, the picture stayed where it was. "Ah, thank you," sighed Cornelius.

"Of course." Pompadour knew that if he had arrived earlier, he would certainly have been fussing with the portrait himself, unable to fully concentrate on his work until it was set to rights. He knew that Cornelius would have certainly criticized him for that very thing during their row months earlier. Since then, their friendship had become all the better, although not without the occasional disagreement. Instead of a critical stare, Cornelius was smiling at him, possibly because he was thinking the very same thing. Pomoadour looked at the picture again, noticing that it was the family portrait: Babar and Celeste sitting on the couch, surrounded by Cornelius, the Old Lady, Arthur, and Zephir, all of them wearing pyjamas. The one in which he was conspicuously absent. Despite being productive in the last few months, and more importantly, loved and appreciated, he still believed that he was somehow separate, not really part of the family.

Seeing how Pompadour seemed to get lost in the picture, Cornelius reminisced. "I remember when you took that photo. It was when Arthur came home from his travels a couple years ago. My tusks, he kept us up all night with his wild tales."

Pompadour stared at Cornelius, confused. "I took this photo? All this time I had simply assumed that I was not welcome."

"Nonsense! I hoped you would be in the photo with us, but you said you'd rather not, because you didn't want to be photographed in your pyjamas. Very silly of you, I thought." Cornelius gave it some thought, then added, "Are you saying you don't remember it? I thought you never forgot!"

Pompadour thought about coming back with a defensive response, but held back. "There's a first time for everything, I suppose."

"What's that?" Cornelius pointed at the thick file that Pompadour was holding.

"You don't remember?" He and Cornelius exchanged understanding smiles. There was so much activity in the palace, details could be easily overlooked and forgotten. "These are the sales records from this past year's peanut crop, ready to be filed."

Cornelius and Pompadour, chatting back and forth, made their way down the hall, shoulder to shoulder. Not wanting to be left behind, Troubadour's feet kicked into gear, and he shuffled along after them.

That afternoon, Babar added the finishing touches to his speech for the following day. "That should do it," he said, satisfied, tucking it into the drawer of his desk. "Now I need to make up for lost time." He passed through the halls, expecting to be loaded down with a series of demands. To his surprise, he was not approached by Cornelius with an announcement, or Pompadour with an agenda. This would be the day that things could be like they used to be, and no one would come between him and his mother. That is, until he noticed Celeste standing by the front door.

"Hello, my dear. How have you been?"

Celeste smiled. "Very well. Are you ready to go?"

"Go?"

"Yes," she laughed, wondering why he seemed confused about the visit he had been looking forward to since the end of the land dispute. "We're going to visit the memorial, aren't we?"

Babar was quiet. He had fully intended to go by himself; it would be the first time since he returned from the city that he could visit his birthplace, and it would be a chance to do so alone. He did not want to tell Celeste no, but he had envisioned how the afternoon would be, and only he and his mother were present. Still, he was not about to push away his wife so he could go off by himself. "We are. If you're feeling up to it."

"Then we're on our way," said Celeste, locking elbows with Babar as they stepped outside.

The little red car climbed the winding dirt path leading to the Lake. The workers did an outstanding job, thought Babar, looking at the smooth stones neatly lining the new road. "I'm surprised that so much could be accomplished in just a few months. Many hands make fast work," he said to Celeste. He kept his surprise at the diligence of the rhino workers to himself; he had seen them at work, and they had done their fair share as promised. Though the rhinos seldom took interest in the lives of the elephants, they likely considered the situation an even trade. Celeste had already shared with Babar the word from Lady Rataxes, that the elephants working on the system of wells throughout Rhinoland had put their trunks to the grindstone and had things up and running more quickly than even the demanding Rataxes could have expected. "For once, going over each other's boundaries worked out for all of us," said Babar, as he slowed the car to a stop.

Turning off the engine, Babar stepped out of the car, and opened the passenger door for Celeste. With the car's rumbling roar silenced, all that could be heard were the cries of birds and the rush of the wind through the leaves of the trees. Babar looked around. He had feared that the rhinos might go overboard, chopping down trees left and right, leaving little behind. Instead, the area was left largely intact, the foliage was only tamed to allow easier access to the Lake and surrounding land. Ever since moving into the valley below, the Lake had been nearly swallowed up by the forest. Babar and Celeste followed the path, and found the memorial marking the opening of the clearing where the Lake stood. Babar had commissioned the memorial to be dedicated to the citizens of Celesteville, by the citizens of Celesteville and Rhinoland. I still wish I could have given the land to my mother, he thought, but it has always been hers. Now her people can enjoy it as well.

They stood by the Lake, watching the water birds dance, chasing fish, then take off into the air in groups, like white clouds rising from the water. He happily imagined his people able to swim in the Lake, and the small children playing there, just as he did as a boy. The two said little apart from pointing out familiar landmarks.

"Remember all the water fights we had with Arthur there in the shallow water?"

"And I remember playing hide and seek in those trees."

"There's where you pulled the stump out of the ground."

The two stopped just beyond the clump of trees, in a clearing, which then narrowed into a long grassy path, leading to a great open field beyond. "I was born here," mused Babar, wishing he could remember his early days. All he knew for sure was that as a youngster, looking up at his mother and the other adults, they seemed so tall, and the tops of the trees seemed unreachable. His environment seemed smaller now, and much more fragile. He knew that nothing was guaranteed to last, and any simple act of entering the bounds of the kingdom could change it forever. He realized that though he loved his mother dearly, she had been taken from him so early, he missed his chance to get to know her, for her to be there as he grew. His memories of her were dim. His best connection with her was being there, feeling the cool breeze on his face.

He put an arm around Celeste, pulling her in against him. "Think of it, my love," he said. "Three generations, right here." With his other arm, he touched her belly, hoping to feel the baby. Curious, he looked at her. "That's a very busy little one. Is there always so much kicking?" He asked, amused.

"There is," she said. Celeste was eager to tell Babar about her suspicion. She had a feeling his mother would be proud, but she was unsure how he would take the news. "Because I think they're excited to be here."

Babar went back to listening to the wind in the trees for a moment, then looked back at Celeste, shocked. "Did you say 'they'?"

She laughed. "A parent's work is never done. We'll definitely have our work cut out for us."

Although Babar knew he would be facing months of sleepless nights, and days of dashing back and forth between work and family, he knew it would be worth it. From the feet of his mother, he had risen to the throne of Celesteville. He had no doubt that he could follow in her footsteps, and raise her beautiful grandchildren. He and Celeste stood there at the edge of the jungle. As far as the elephants had come over the years, Babar was glad that they could now take the time to cross the boundary, and revisit the land where they were children once, allowing the next generation to grow up in the best of both worlds, on the boundary of the modern and the simple.