Chapter Summary: Annalise first met Erik in June of 1896. It is now twenty-two years later.

Author's Notes: World War One began in 1914 and peace was declared November 11, 1918. The influenza pandemic began quietly in 1917 and returned in the late winter/early spring of 1918. The flu killed more people worldwide than the war had done. Now, on a more personal note, thank you so very much to everyone who has read, enjoyed and commented on this story. I appreciate you more than you will ever know.And to those who have suggested this should be published - well - I am moving the story to the 1920's, creating a new back story for the original love triangle and taking the plunge. So ... who knows? This story has been a wonderful journey, I cannot believe it is over and I am so glad you have shared it with me!

EPILOUGE

June 1918

She walked slowly up the familiar hill in back of her home eyes fixed on the copse of trees that stood at the summit. She could have walked the pathway in her sleep and, in fact, had done so many times over the years. In the dreams, her feet had flown across the verdant grass, up the hill and she had gaily danced through the sun-dappled shadows beneath the trees. She had sung with the twittering birds and laughed with the water that flowed over smooth stones. She had sung into the wind, watching as her voice was carried through the skies. But that was in dreams and dreams are not reality. She sighed and paused halfway up the hill, turning to look back at the world that spread out beneath her feet.

Not much had changed in the landscape since that first June afternoon she had climbed this very same hill twenty-two years ago. Smoke rose off in the distance from the village that had grown over time and was no longer quite so small but still bore the charm that had first enchanted her. Her eyes turned towards the fields and she saw the baby animals that frolicked through the green grass, the horses grazing contentedly, the brown fields slowly being covered by the green of new growth. Her gaze wandered towards the vineyards and she sighed; they no longer looked quite as neglected as they had over the last three years. Another few months of long work days and, perhaps, this year's grape harvest would yield a vintage to be savored and treasured.

Treasured.

Her gaze drifted to the walled garden at the back of her home. There, sitting quietly, surrounded by family was the one thing she treasured most in the world. The one person who meant safety and joy and love - her husband - and her heart broke as, once again, she understood the pain he had felt when she had been returned to him. He had insisted on fighting for the country and people that had welcomed him with open arms and when he had returned to her, he had been broken in body and spirit. Just as he had held her during the darkness of her nightmares, now it was her turn to hold him, to reassure him, to comfort and to love him. Their relationship had come full circle and now with the rumors of peace floating on the air, she hoped they could rebuild what the war had shattered. She turned back and continued to climb the hill.

There had been so much joy in their lives. Each beat of her heart echoed the memory of a happier time.

Madeline, now twenty, with straight dark hair and large blue eyes. She was a quiet girl with strength of character that she had inherited from her father. She had studied music in Paris and had fallen in love with a young piano player. She and Thierry were to be married but - in typical Madeline fashion - she had insisted that the wedding not take place until peace had been declared and the war was over.

Ranulf, barely seventeen, was still young enough to be forbidden from going to war much to his mother's relief. He looked like his father with blonde hair and warm brown eyes. And with his gentle ways and calm self-assurance, he reminded her of her own father. She remembered how happy her parents had been when they had named Ranulf - her husband discovering that their new son's name was the Scandinavian version of her father's own name. It honored both her parents.

Noel, her little Christmas baby who was now thirteen with all the feisty independence of any adolescent who suddenly thought they understood the whole world. He had her dark curls and blue eyes and reminded her far too much of herself for her to ever be comfortable about his life. Noel did not know the meaning of fear and tended to do as he pleased the minute his parents' backs were turned. She thanked God he had Ranulf as an older brother to whom he could turn for advice and guidance.

Deirdre, who had just celebrated her eleventh birthday, was the little fairy floating through their lives. She had bright blonde curls and wide brown eyes and never seemed to have an awkward moment. She loved the animals and the flower gardens. She loved to sing and the potential of her voice threatened to outshine those of both her mother and grandmother. She had been the sunshine in her family's lives throughout the darkness that war had brought upon them.

She stopped at the top of the hill, her hand reaching up to the buttons at the base of her throat. She smiled with the memory and undid the buttons, moving the collar back. Her fingers lingered for a moment over the three long scars beneath her collarbone but she pushed that memory from her thoughts. Bitterness and revenge were emotions upon which she refused to linger - he had taken enough from her youth and his friend had nearly taken Noel from her life. Her last thought of them was a prayer that they both rested in peace. Her thin hands reached up to the back of her head - her engagement and wedding rings flashing in the sun - and loosed the hair pinned to it. Dark curls with subtle hints of silver tumbled down her back. She had refused to cut it for she knew how much her husband loved to snuggle into her long curls.

"No one is looking but God, right?" Annalise repeated words from a long ago summer afternoon as she looked up at the sky for an answer. "And You won't tell."

As she entered the well-worn path into the woods, Annalise wondered if even God was looking anymore. She sighed and swallowed down the lump in her throat. The war had brought such devastation upon so many. And what the Red Horseman of War had not taken, the Pale Horseman of Death, who brought the influenza, had claimed as his own.

Loss. So much loss.

Each of her footfalls crunching on the rotting leaves covering the pathway into the woods punctuated a loss that had devastated her life.

Crunch.

Bertrand, the laughing toddler who had so cheered the long days of her recovery, had grown into a young man with a great curiosity about the world and skies around him. He had spent all his free time studying the winged machines that flew through the heavens. He had found a freedom and a spiritual connection while guiding those machines through bright blue skies and fluffy white clouds. Bertrand, the first-born grandchild and heir to the family name and fortune lost forever when his plane had been shot down over Belgium.

Crunch.

Her niece, Suzanne, a lovely girl who was as outgoing as her mother had been reserved. The letter written in Katherine's fine script had sent the news that Suzanne had fallen victim to the mysterious influenza that seemed to take special joy in killing the young and healthy. Annalise had longed to hold Katherine in her arms and comfort as she had been comforted but the submarine war declared by the Germans precluded any overseas travel. And there had been another reason

Crunch.

Andrew, her silly beloved husband, had been wounded by an exploding shell. He had been left for dead on one of the many battlefields that covered the country he had grown to love. He had come back to himself when one of the poor people who roamed the battlefields, scrounging for whatever they could find, put their hands in the pockets of Andrew's pants. Andrew had been taken back to the ramshackle farmhouse and nursed for months as he had hovered between life and death. The memory of the day Annalise had answered the knock on her front door still chilled her to the bone. She had found Andrew slumped on the stairs, his clothing barely hanging on to his bone-thin body. The months that followed were long and trying as Annalise and her children struggled to bring Andrew's spirit back from the war and into the warmth of their embrace.

Crunch.

Richard, the sweet, even-tempered brother who had always been so gentle with her had also been a victim of the influenza that had ravaged every nation in the world. He had complained of being sick one morning as he had left for work. Later that night he had taken to his bed, his fever climbing and his lungs failing. Four days later he had died leaving behind a grieving wife and three children. His death had also taken its toll on his parents and siblings, shaking their faith in God and devastating what remained of lives already torn apart by the horrors of war.

Crunch.

Annalise's feet had carried her to the place for which she had been longing. Her eyes began to tear over as she entered the clearing in the center of the woods. She walked over and nearly collapsed onto the tree trunk that had been there since the first afternoon she had stumbled upon this spot. This quiet, secret spot that had been hidden for so long. This spot that had become her peaceful oasis in the midst of the turmoil that had moved in and out of her life. Annalise opened her closed hands and spread her fingers in front of her eyes. Her hands were shaking from feelings long held close and here, where no one could see or hear her, Annalise felt she could let her emotions go. She placed her hands over her face and sobbed into them, crying like she had not cried in almost a year.

"Are things no longer well with your soul?" a voice asked.

At the sound of a voice that she had thought never to hear again, Annalise let out a small shriek and jumped to her feet. She stood on shaking legs, the color fading from her cheeks, her lips moving but no sound coming forth from them. She stood staring at the figure in front of her for a long moment, shock finally giving way to a longing that would not be denied. "Erik," she breathed, her arms extending.

"My little angel," Erik replied as he reached for her, his eyes mirroring the sorrow and loss of the girl's.

They stood for a long time in each other's arms; Annalise crying tears that were ripped from the depths of her heart, Erik holding her tightly, his own tears falling silently. Finally, they broke apart, Erik taking Annalise's hand as they sat on the fallen tree trunk. A stillness settled upon them as they struggled to overcome the years of separation and reach back to a more innocent time, a time before fear and war and death. Erik reached into a pocket and placed something into Annalise's hand. She looked down and smiled, taking the handkerchief in her hands and twisting in through her fingers. Annalise finally raised her head to look at Erik, a trembling smile on her lips.

"When?" she began, shaking her head. "How ... why did you not send us word?"

"I did not send word for I did not know if I would make it this far," Erik began. "There are still many dangers in traveling despite the peace they say is soon to be declared."

Annalise grabbed his hands and held tightly. "Why would you risk it? I would never have forgiven myself if something were to have happened to you!"

A look of such sorrow passed over Erik's face that Annalise lowered her eyes, feeling foolish for even asking the question. Of course he would have known; of course he would have come. He had always known when there had been joy or sorrow or danger in the lives of those that he loved and he had always returned. Annalise suddenly felt far older than her thirty-eight years as the greatest sorrow of her life rose up and threatened to once again drown her in its black emptiness. She raised her head and saw her own grief etched into Erik's aged countenance. "Maman," Annalise said softly.

Erik's chin trembled and he closed his eyes, trying to compose the emotions that she had always brought forth in him. No matter the years, no matter the distance, no matter how many arms wrapped him in love, Christine had always been - and would always be - the greatest love of his life. "I cannot believe she is gone," he whispered before opening his eyes. "What happened? Please tell me she was not in any pain!" he pleaded.

Annalise returned the tight clasp that held onto her own hands. "There was no pain," Annalise assured him. She swallowed as she struggled to retain a sense of composure. "Maman was in the garden with Father, they were looking at the new roses." Her thumb caressed the inside of Erik's wrist. "Maman planted roses the year I was married, you know." She shook her head. "Of course you know, you saw them when Madeline was born." Annalise sighed. "I think the war tired Maman out. I do not think any of us knew how much until we received word that Bertrand ... that ... he had been lost. And I know she worried about Andrew once he came home. I think it was all just too much for her." Annalise took back one of her hands to rest it against Erik's right cheek. "She was in the garden with Father and they sat down to look at the blooms. Father put his hand about her waist and he thought she was resting on his shoulder. He did not even realize she had gone. It was quiet and peaceful and fast. Maman ... died ... in the arms of the man who loved her, surrounded by the roses you loved."

"Christine," Erik sobbed and felt himself drawn into the arms of the woman seated next to him. This woman who so looked like her mother that it broke his heart while, at the same time, it filled him with such a sense of peace.

"She always spoke of you with such love," Annalise whispered to him. "You were always in her thoughts and in her heart."

"Thank you," Erik whispered back as he collected his thoughts. She had loved him. She had always loved him.

Annalise finally drew back as she felt Erik's grip on her loosen. "Richard is gone, too," she told him. "He only died a few months ago." Annalise closed her eyes in pain and sorrow. "And Father is not well. He has not been will since Maman ... and now with Richard ..." Annalise took back one of her hands to push her hair from her face. "I am losing everyone I have ever loved." She raised her head to look at the sun gleaming overhead. "It is not fair!" she screamed.

"I find that life is seldom fair," Erik replied gently. "I am truly sorry about your Father."

"Thank you," Annalise lowered her head. "That means so much coming from you." She let out a long breath before turning to look at the man seated next to her. "What of Mairead, Siobhan and Patrick?"

The pain on Erik's face eased at the names of his family upon his little angel's lips. "They are well. They are the joys of my old age, my life. Ireland was spared from the worst of the war but it has not been easy for the influenza has struck us, as well. Yet, I have an uncanny knack for survival and it seems to be something I have passed to my children." He sighed. "They were not happy that I chose to leave them but Mairead understood. She has always understood."

"I am so glad you found her."

"I am glad we found each other," Erik said as he drew Annalise into his side, feeling her head go to rest against his shoulder. "Tell me how Andrew fares."

"He is far better than he was two years ago. He has grown stronger and his spirit has returned." Annalise sniffled. "He will always walk with a limp and he tires so easily but I do not care. He came home to me which is more than most women will have. As long as we are together, nothing else matters."

Erik nodded. "I always knew he was strong." He kissed Annalise's head. "Just as I knew you were stronger than you imagined."

"These last years have left me questioning my strength."

"But you have not given in to those doubts."

"No," Annalise replied. "I could not. I had the estate to run and the children to raise while Andrew was gone. I could not give in to any doubts or fears." She sighed. "That is why I come here. This is my special spot. This is where I can let loose all my grief and fears without anyone seeing them." She turned to smile up at Erik. "No one except God and the memories of wonderful man met in a long ago summer."

"Oh, my little angel," Erik sighed.

They sat quietly for moment each lost in thoughts of years gone by.

"How long do you plan to stay?" Annalise wondered.

"Just today," Erik said softly.

Annalise sat up, looking at her companion in confusion. "Why?"

"There are things I must do," Erik told her. "I must go to the village cemetery and pay my respects to Tomas." He paused as Annalise nodded her head. "And then I must go to Paris for there is something I would like to retrieve, if it still exists." He shook his head at the question on Annalise's face. "I am seeking a music box." He laid a finger against her lips. "That is all you need to know. And I wish to pay my respects to Madame Giry for we both grow old and I should like to see her again."

A sudden cloud descended upon Annalise. "You are never going to come back again, are you?"

"No," came the simple reply.

Annalise began to cry again. "I cannot lose you, too!"

"Annalise," Erik said as he placed a hand over her heart. "I shall always live within your heart and that is something that no one can ever take from you. You and I will always have that long ago summer and our spirits will live in this clearing until the end of time. But Time and God wait for no man. You and your brothers and your families are the promise my Angel made to the future she knew would exist. When you gave me back my soul, I was finally free to find my promise to that same future. That promise lives in Siobhan and Patrick. Let our promises be living proof that we shall never lose each other." Erik smiled at Annalise. "All I ask is that you pray for this soul of mine for I should dearly like to find you," he paused and drew a deep breath, "and your mother in Heaven someday. Maybe even earn your father's forgiveness."

"Father forgave you long ago," Annalise said as she wiped at her tears. "And Maman never stopped thinking of you or praying for you. I promise I shall do the same." She thought quietly for moment, her mind reaching back five years. "But there is something you must know before you leave ..." her tone held a slight note of panic.

Whatever Annalise had been about to say was interrupted by a crashing noise that echoed throughout the copse of trees. The noise was followed by voices calling out: "Maman!"

Annalise smiled warmly at Erik. "There is something you need to know." She turned towards the path and called out, "In the clearing, my loves."

Erik turned to follow Annalise's gaze and was startled to see two small children, running down the path and stopping as they saw their mother seated on the log with a strange man. The children, who held each other's hands, could not have been more than five. She had the long dark curls and bright blue eyes of her mother. He also had his mother's dark hair but it was straight and his golden-brown eyes definitely belonged to his father.

"Madeline sent us to fetch you," the little girl said.

"Papa says it is time for lunch," the little boy finished.

"We could not get word to you because of the turmoil of the war that was beginning," Annalise said as she looked at Erik, "but Andrew and I had a very unexpected pregnancy five years ago. It was difficult and it nearly killed all of us but it worked out in the end." She turned towards her children and held out her hands. "It is all right," she told them and waited until the children crossed to her side. "Erik, I would like you to meet Christian and Erika." She smiled down at her children. "This is my dearest and truest friend," she told them. "This is Monsieur Lachaise."

Erik sat stunned as he looked at the two little faces looking back at him. Christian and Erika. He could feel his heart breaking even as his soul glowed with the honor that had been given to him, to his beloved angel, to their memories. He noted that Erika had moved close to her mother and was looking at him with a bit of apprehension in her sweet little face. Christian, though, stood by himself, studying the man in front of him with a smug arrogance that Erik knew had come from his father. He laughed delightedly at this unexpected and wondrous turn of events. "Oh, my little angel," he managed between his laughs.

Christian turned to look at his mother. "You do not look like an angel, Maman."

"Yes, she does," Erika told her brother with a smile.

"Go and wait by the path," Annalise told her children. She watched as they walked across the clearing and waited by the entrance to the path. When she turned back to speak with Erik, she found he had gone. She had not even felt him stand or heard him as he walked away from her. Annalise bit back a sob. "I will always love you and hold you dear," she said to the clearing.

"Always," the woods echoed back. "Au revoir, my little angel"

"Au revoir," Annalise whispered. She stood, swallowed and blew a kiss into the shadows beneath the trees before standing and walking to her children. She took their little hands in her own and guided them from the woods. They walked out into the sunshine and paused to look down at their home. Annalise could see Andrew by the back gate, his hand raised in greeting, waiting for them to return. Annalise smiled and knew that he could see her smile across the distance. She looked down at the two little faces looking up at her.

"Who was that man?" Christian wanted to know.

"He had a nice laugh," Erika added.

Annalise smiled at her children. "Would you like to hear a story?" she asked them and waited until they nodded their little heads. She walked down the hill towards home, still holding to the soft hands in her own. "Once upon a time there was a pretty singer and the prince who loved her and the Angel of Music who watched over them both ..."