Horizons
"Good morning, wife," Christian greeted cheerfully, as had become customary of each day since their wedding – Satine often joked she thought he'd married her and promptly forgotten her name – walking into the apartment with a newspaper tucked under one arm and their mail in his hands.
"Good morning, husband," Satine responded lightly, from where she stood holding Olivier.
"You got another letter from Marie," he informed her, moving over to sit on the chaise. "Oh, and we've gotten something from Margaret."
"Really?" Satine leaned down to settle the baby into his bassinet, then she sat down alongside Christian, accepting the proffered missive from Montmartre.
"Mm," he murmured distractedly, already in the process of reading the letter from his sister.
She laughed softly and leaned over with a show of peeking at the letter, but soon enough sat back and went about opening her own. The tidings from Marie were as usual – the Moulin Rouge was doing well, Harold said 'hello,' she hoped the baby was doing well, and she couldn't wait to finally see him.
"Well," Christian finally said, folding the letter back up and placing it back in its envelope.
"Well?" Satine asked, lifting an eyebrow.
"Margaret wants to meet you and Olivier – and," he said, pausing for a moment and lingering with a few seconds' hesitation. "And father wants to meet you, too."
Slightly taken aback at the idea of meeting Christian's family – well, had she thought she wouldn't ever see them? – Satine stared at him in silence.
"He's invited us to come to London, according to Margaret," Christian went on. "He read my book, and said perhaps he was wrong about saying I had no future as a writer. She said she's been working on – softening him a bit in the past year . . ."
Softening him? As far as Satine knew, Christian's father was a hard man, who had disinherited his own son because he happened to have different aspirations for Christian's future than Christian himself had.
"Do you want to go back to England?" she asked, taking note of his discomforted expression. Sliding closer to him, she rested a hand against his arm, studying his face.
"I – don't know," he replied after a pause of consideration. "I do miss Margaret. And, I suppose, I miss Father, too," he added reluctantly.
"Then maybe it's time to go back," Satine said, fidgeting a bit with Marie's letter.
"What about you – do you want to – to go to England?" he asked hesitantly.
Did she? The thought of it made her absolutely nervous – the idea of meeting Christian's family; his prim and sheltered sister; his father who disapproved of the idea of him going to Montmartre in the first place, and spending the rest of his life with a can-can dancer from the Moulin Rouge?
How happy would he be to find out that was indeed the life Christian had found for himself?
Biting down on her lower lip, Satine gazed evenly at her hands, resting her eyes on the small diamond of the engagement ring, and the gold of her wedding band. She loved Christian – and his family was a part of him, no matter what feelings they might have held toward her.
"Yes," she said resolutely. "If you want to go back, I'll go with you."
Christian leaned to wrap his arms around her, pulling her close to him. "I love you, Satine."
"I love you, too," she responded, then trailed off and hesitated. "But what will your family think of me?"
"Oh, darling," he chided softly. "You and Margaret practically know each other now – I know she loves you already, and she'll love Olivier, too."
Satine paused, nodding slightly. "But what about your father?"
Christian remained silent for a moment, thinking about his words. "He'll love you, too," he said firmly. "He's really not as bad as he seems – he just takes a little warming up to. Really, he just hasn't been the same since Mum died . . . I wish you could have met her."
She sighed softly, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I wish I could have, too."
"Don't worry," he said, kissing her temple. "Everything will be fine. We have a new horizon in front of us, and it doesn't matter what we do, as long as we're together. Come what may, right?"
"Come what may," she agreed, then she turned to look up at him and began to sing.
"Love took me by the hand,
Love took me by surprise.
Love led me to you,
And love opened up my eyes . . ."
Christian shifted so that they were snuggled together more securely, then his voice took over.
"And every time I drift away,
I lose myself in you.
And now I see I can be me
In everything I do . . ."
He trailed off, and she returned,
"All I've known, all I've done,
All I've felt was leading to this.
All I've known, all I've done,
All I've found was leading to this."
Then Christian went on again,
"Wanna stay right here, till the end of time,
Till the earth stops turning.
Gonna love you till the seas run dry.
I've found the one I've waited for . . ."
Finally, their voices blended together, and they finished,
"And I was drifting away
Like a drop in the ocean,
And now I've realized that
Nothing has been as beautiful . . .
As when I saw heaven's skies
In your eyes, in your eyes."
The two leaned together and shared in a kiss, and when they broke apart, Christian whispered, "I love you."
"I love you, too," she whispered back.
Olivier – quite apparently feeling excluded in this – chose that moment to release a rather passionate cry.
Satine moved to retrieve him from the bassinet, settling back down alongside Christian with the baby in her arms. "Oh, Olivier, Mama and Papa love you very much."
Christian smiled, and leaned down to kiss the baby lightly on the forehead. Everything seemed picture perfect in this moment, and as Olivier began to settle and quiet again, Christian suggested, "How about I tell you a story?"
Satine laughed softly, quirking an eyebrow at her husband. "I'm not sure Olivier needs to hear that kind of story, darling," she teased.
"It's just a harmless fairytale," Christian countered innocently, then he settled back and began to weave his tale.
"Once upon a time in a faraway land, a princess lived in a red windmill. Now, this princess was so beautiful that she was known as the Sparkling Diamond, and men came from far and wide to admire her beauty.
"Then, one day in another land even further away from where the princess lived, a handsome prince was being pressured by his father, the king. The king wanted his son to become king in his place, but the prince wanted nothing of it, so he left home with only the clothes on his back, a roll of parchment, and a quill, intent on becoming a bard.
"Back in the kingdom where the princess lived, her father, King Harold, had decided it was time that she married, and suitors began to line at the gates of the windmill with hopes of courting the princess – but she turned them all away!"
". . . Only to fall in love with the penniless bard," Satine finished, amused.
"And how does the story end?" Christian asked, turning to smile at her.
"Well, they go on to live happily ever after, for all time," she concluded.
"I couldn't have written it better myself."
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Author's Note: Lyrics are Michelle Branch's "Drop in the Ocean" and Lamb's "Gorecki." Thank you many, many times over to everyone who's read and reviewed. Now – is anyone up for a sequel? ;)