CHAPTER 20
Having a man constantly in the house, one that shared her bed at night and her house during the day, was something that Christine was having to get used to. Erik had set up camp in her little-used office, and was working on blueprints most days when Christine came home for lunch. Every evening, without fail, he would be waiting for her outside the opera to escort her home, where dinner would be waiting. At night, they talked, sipped wine, laughed, made love. Each morning, he was at her side when she woke, his hair ruffled from sleep and, sometimes, snoring softly. She would rise, kissing him softly, before dressing. Usually by the time she was finished with her hair, he would be pulling on his day clothes.
Over the months that followed, Erik set up an office in town, and was constantly speaking of the challenges of building anything in a city that was sinking. Much of what he did was reconstruction, which he seemed to enjoy. He often spoke of how he enjoyed seeing how builders, sometimes hundreds of years ago, did their work.
Still, though, there was a sadness in his eyes when he looked out over the city. She suspected that he missed the freedom of his house in Scotland. He was free to take long walks through the woods, to sit beside the sea at his leisure, and to feel the brisk breeze through an open window. Very quietly, Christine began making inquiries back in London and in Edinburgh. She was surprised to hear back very quickly from St. Mary's in Edinburgh, stating their need for a new music director, and their interest in her, from her reputation as a wonderful performer. She wrote back, accepting, and saying to give her one year. She knew that it would not take that long to end her time at the opera or for Erik to appoint someone to run the McLeod Architectural Firm in his stead. She knew that she would return, for his interest in the success in his business would mean a visit from time to time. She needed that time for something else...
It was over dinner that Christine decided to tell him her news. The weather outside had turned warm and humid, and she could see, daily, how miserable he was. As she cut into her lamb, she cleared her throat softly.
"I was thinking," she said, once she was sure he was paying attention to her, "that now would be a good time to return to Scotland."
"And why is that?" There was suppressed hope in his voice. "You've made a life and a name for yourself here. Why get rid of that?"
Christine shrugged slightly. "I can return whenever I like, and you'd have the firm here, so we would have to come back. I've had my fill of success for now. I can always get back into it if I please. The London house is so proud of me that they said I can come in whenever I like to request a special appearance. Archie will see to it that they keep their word. In the meantime, I've been offered the position of choir director at St. Mary's in Edinburgh."
There was a clink of metal on china as Erik set down his fork. "Christine," he said, around the small mouthful of greens, "you've never even been to Edinburgh. How do you know you'd like it there?"
She smiled, reaching over to cover his hand with her much smaller one. "I've seen its beauty through your eyes, and through Archie's stories, and through the pictures I've seen."
"It's perpetually damp, chilly, windy—I don't understand why you'd want to give this up to go there."
"I have nothing here but a house and servants. Everything I have is in England, and London's just a few days journey from town."
"A few bumpy days through the hills and down roads that can be horrible, depending on the weather."
"If it is so horrid," she asked, a small smile tugging at her lips, "why do you miss it so?"
Erik stared at her for a long moment before turning his hand under hers, lacing his fingers through hers, and looking at her with something like disbelief. "You would leave Italy for Scotland? Lovely, historic Italy, for damp and dreary Scotland?"
"You forget that 'damp and dreary Scotland' is the home of the famed Baron McLeod, and I happen to love him very much." She gave his fingers a small squeeze. "Besides, one cannot start a family in Venice. Too much water."
Erik frowned. "Who said anything about starting a family?" She did not answer, but continued to gaze at him in apparent wonder. "What is it?"
"God has given us another chance, my darling." Her lips were drawn into an irresistibly bright smile, her eyes glistening.
It took Erik a minute to realize what she was speaking about. Then, understanding dawned on him, and he squeezed her hand back.
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The trip back was long, but enjoyable. The pair of them had managed to slip into France undetected by law enforcement, although they had given up the search for their masked man many years ago. After a short jaunt to see Michelle in Paris, they stopped in Calais for several days, where Madam Giry had recently moved. Their arrival was apparently a surprise, but a welcome one. Meg was living down the street with her husband, a burly Welshman named Joseph Williams. After several days in France, and after a very quiet ceremony, the pair of them were on their way to Dover, then to Edinburgh. The North Sea took its toll on Christine, who spent most of the remainder of their trip in the latrine.
The solid dock was a welcome feeling under Christine's feet, and she smiled, pointing, when she caught sight of two men standing a short distance away. One of them had windswept brown hair and eyes that matched the gray sea.
Archie Palmer was beaming from ear to ear. He shook hands with Erik and hugged Christine, lifting her off her tiny feet and spinning her slightly before putting her back down. As they headed away from the little boat that had delivered them, Archie wrapped an arm around an unsteady Christine.
"Alright there, misses?"
She smiled weakly. "I want to sleep for a thousand years."
Archie's companion laughed. Christine smiled at Samuel. "Still around, are you, Sam?"
The older man chuckled again. "My dear, wild horses could not keep me away."
Christine's smile widened. "Then I am happy for you," she said quietly, leaning up to kiss his cheek.
As they made their way through town, Christine could not help but notice that people were whispering as they passed, some waving at Erik, and a number of women looking resentful. Archie leaned close to Christine. "You wouldn't believe the stir you two have created. The Baron McLeod, the most eligible and confirmed bachelor in town, suddenly with only one woman and a babe on the way? The rumors were everything from that he had married some hag from Albania to an affair with an Italian beauty. I don't think I heard anything about a Swedish opera singer. And here I thought I had them up in arms."
"Why is that?"
Archie grinned over at Samuel. "Well, we needed a way to allow Sam to spend as much time with me as possible," he said quietly. "So I married his sister."
Erik, who was climbing into the carriage that Archie had arranged for them, slipped slightly. "What?"
Once they were all settled inside, Archie and Samuel launched into the story of how it had happened that Archie had married Samuel's sister, Sabrina, a well known London socialite who had a taste for anything expensive, as well as a quiet taste for women as well as men. Her marriage to Archie ensured that she could have over whomever, whenever, and Samuel had moved onto a small cottage on Archie's property. No one seemed to see the carriages that came, often bearing a man, a woman, or both, and everyone seemed ignorant that Samuel seldom slept in his own house, let alone his own bed.
Soon, they were headed up a long drive, and Christine looked out of the window to view her new home. Her mouth fell open. Erik had told her that the house was large, but that was an understatement. It was built formidably on a bluff overlooking the sea, and was made almost entirely from smooth stone. There were balconies and verandas, and Christine could see a large garden, as well.
As the carriage pulled to a halt, several young men hurried forward, quickly helping Christine down and taking down the luggage that had arrived with them. They bowed at both of them, and Christine heard Archie say, "Let's leave the newlyweds alone, shall we?"
The carriage trundled away, and Christine was standing, staring up at the house with wonder. She heard the front door open, and she tore her gaze away to see George hustling toward them. "Welcome home, sir."
"Everything still in order?" Erik asked, as they began heading inside.
"Yes, sir. We've moved in most of the Baroness's things, but I believe a few more things are on the way?"
"Yes, some of it is still in Venice. It will arrive with her maid and her husband."
"So the lady will have her own help?"
Christine had stopped listening to the conversation and was staring around her in awe. She could not believe Erik owned this massive house. It was decorated fairly traditionally, a long line of portraits of McLeods and their families lining the wall. She noticed that there was not one of Erik.
"One day," he whispered in her ear. "Once we're all settled in and we've started our family."
She smiled up at him, and heard George take his leave. Sliding into his arms, Christine sighed and buried her face in his chest. Finally, she was home.
25 Years Later
Against her face, the spray of the sea was cool and welcome. It was the mildest day of the month so far, reminding her of the weather two months before, when summer was closing and just before autumn. The glass that filled her hands was still nearly half full, but she paid it no mind. She was just thinking of turning and returning to the house when she heard a small voice calling out to her, and heard distant footsteps pounding down the hill toward her.
A small boy, four years old and named Colin, was racing down the hill toward the woman. Beaming, she opened her arms and welcomed him into them when he raced her. Behind him, her husband and son, the boy's father, were slowly making their way toward her. Ewan waved at her, the wind catching his dark hair and ruffling it a bit. Christine smiled at her son as she set Colin back on his feet.
Ewan and Erik finally reached her and Ewan grabbed her in a hug. Christine was struck again by how much Ewan looked like his father. The only difference was Ewan's face, a copy of what Erik's would have been without the scars. When she was finally to get a look up into his face, she smiled.
"Look how handsome you are," she said softly. "We've missed you so!" She kissed his cheek, and allowed Erik to take her arm, helping her back up the slope. "Have you seen Kirsty yet?"
Ewan shook his head, lifting Colin from the ground and up onto his shoulders. "Not yet," he said. "Is she here?"
"Arrived yesterday." Once they had reached the top of the hill, Christine pointed to where a girl with brown curls and chocolate eyes was chatting animatedly to another young lady. "Is Anne alright, dear? She looks a bit pale."
"Just the trip," he said bracingly as he let Colin down. Once the boy was out of earshot, Ewan turned to them, beaming. "I'm going to be a father again!"
Later, after dinner, Christine found herself sitting outside in the garden, wrapped in a warm coat with her daughters and the wives of her sons. Kirsty was retelling a story of a time when, as children, Ewan had snuck into her room during the day to hide a toad under her pillow.
"You two have fought since before you were born," Christine said, laughing. "You fought in my womb and you fought over who was to be born first. You've been fighting for almost 25 years, now."
"And I've been living with it for seventeen years," Fiona muttered. Out of the corner of her eye, Christine saw that Fiona was sulking again. Recently, she had found that the man who was currently the object of her affections was busy being affectionate with several other women in town. She spend most of the days shut up in her room, only emerging for meals where Erik and Christine made very forced conversation with her. At seventeen, Christine felt that she was too young to be married and tried to discourage her from getting too serious so soon.
Next to Fiona, Leda shook her head silently. Her stormy gray eyes closed momentarily before she stood. "If you'll excuse me, I'm getting a bit chilly. I think I'll go find Elijah. Fiona, can you help me? I'm horrible at finding him." She smiled brilliantly, her white teeth contrasting with her olive skin and dark hair.
Fiona seemed to cheer up a bit at the prospect of being needed by her lovely Greek sister-in-law, and she hopped to her feet, leading Leda back inside.
"He's probably in the library with John, same place as always." Kirsty sighed and sipped her wine. "Same place as always, and Leda knows that. She's always been a love when it comes to Fiona."
"Fiona needs an artist, or a musician, or a poet," Anne said, "not some nobleman. She needs someone to sweep her off her feet and make her truly happy."
Anne, who was usually very quiet, once again made Christine quiet and thoughtful. She seldom spoke, but when she did, she showed a wisdom beyond her years. Anne was a pretty socialite with a flair for the flute, and Ewan, with his master skills on a piano and in composition, had been the perfect match for her. Erik, who had been working on a project with Anne's father, invited their family for dinner. The first time he had lain eyes on Anne, Ewan, who was as nimble as a cat and seemed to have just as many lives, had stumbled over his chair when he first rose to greet her. A small woman with red hair and bright blue eyes, Anne had been a perfect match for her oldest son.
Leda, on the other hand, was the complete opposite of her husband. Elijah had been raised, wanting for nothing, while Leda had made a name for herself, working hard and eventually singing on the same Venice stage Christine had once performed on. She was beautiful and curvy, and Elijah had been enamored with her at once, but had quickly found that the one thing Leda had not done on her way up from nothing was to use her body. The Greek beauty had forced Elijah to prove that he loved her for more than her voice, more than her body, and more than any woman he may meet ever again. It had taken the better part of the year to convince Leda that he was such a man.
Standing out over all her children was Kirsty. Ewan's twin, she was the complete opposite of him. Where Ewan was handsome and brooding, Kirsty was a vision of innocence and calm. A performer as well, Kirsty seemed to have decided that she may not marry for many years. John Palmer was a good friend of hers who kept her image clean while she pretended to be a doting companion. In truth, John was no more interested in women than his father (he occasionally joked that the only times his parents had shared a bed was to conceive him). They had been friends since they had been young, and they remained close even now. They bickered and teased like Christine and Archie had, and when she was lonley, John would cheer her up, making faces and cooking treats for her.
Now, as Anne excused herself to chase after Colin, Kirsty and Christine were left alone. Kirsty scooted closer to her mother, resting her head on her shoulder. Christine's hair was remarkably untainted by gray, and from behind, they would look almost indistinguishable. However, when a pair of hands rested against her shoulders, Christine smiled.
"You aren't getting bored, are you?"
Kirsty looked up. "Or afraid of the small children running around?"
Erik laughed heartily as he sat down on Christine's other side. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine." She raised her hands slightly as Kirsty slid to rest her head in Christine's lap. "Just fine, nothing to worry about." Her fingers found a curl on Kirsty's head, and Christine recalled her daughter as a small child, in this exact same position, Christine playing with her hair even then.
"You'd say if you needed to rest, wouldn't you?" This time, it was Kirsty who spoke, reminding Christine of how concerned her family were with her.
"I'm just fine, darling. I'm feeling much better. I may retire early, though. You won't mind will you?" Her question was directed at Erik, who shook his head.
"I may go with you," he said, yawning. "I'm getting too old for all of this."
"I'll keep them entertained." Kirsty hopped up, kissing her mother's cheek and hugging her father before heading back inside. Erik watched her go.
"She's grown up so much," he said quietly.
"They all have." Christine leaned her head on his arm. "Fiona will have married and moved out before we know it. Then it will be just us again."
Erik stretched his legs out in front of him. "It's nearly just us now, as it is." His lips rested against the top of her head and his arms wrapped around her, making her feel tiny and safe. "Let's go get some sleep. You need to rest."
"It's just the flu, Erik, I'm getting over it!"
"I know," he said, "but I have to make sure that you're healthy when Fiona moves out."
"Why is that?"
He rose, taking her into his strong arms and carrying her inside. "I'll be busy with you reminding you of why we had children in the first place."
Christine giggled. "I think I'm up for it now."
Erik's dark eyebrow rose. "That so."
Christine nodded, and let him carry her up to bed.
A/n No epilogue. I've been thinking a lot about the Harry Potter epilogue and how dissatisfying it was, so no epilogue with this story. Hope you all enjoyed it—thanks to my regular readers and reviewers, and to everyone who read along. No idea what's up next, but you may not hear from me for a while. I'm going into my senior year and I have a feeling that I'm about to get my butt kicked. Wish me luck!
My advice to you is to listen to the entire "American Pie" album by Don McClean and to rock out to "Everybody Loves Me, Baby." Eat a pot pie, but have a salad to balance it out. Stay away from trans fat and beer that has tons of carbs (I recommend Sam Adams Light and Beck's). Drink a cup of coffee—not a pot. Have a glass of red wine and do a boogie with yourself when nobody's watching. Peace out.