a/n The end is near! I love you all. Just a quick FYI, the salutes in the last chapter were, from The Last 5 Years (which is wonderful, listen to it if you get the chance) was a bit of dialogue geared toward the song "The Next Ten Minutes" and, for Billy Joel, a bit from the song "Lullaby (Goodnight, My Angel)". Peace.

CHAPTER 11—ONE LOVE, ONE LIFETIME

In seventeen years, Erik had never seen his son in such a state. He wandered about the theater in the last few hours before the wedding somewhat helplessly before Erik pulled him aside and sat him down in what had been dubbed, for the day, the groom's room, which was the dressing room for the leading tenor of the opera house.

"Are you alright?" Erik asked.

Gustave flopped backward onto the sofa and blew a gust of air through his lips. "I'm scared shitless."

Erik laughed. "That's alright. I was terrified when I married your mother."

"Why?" Gustave sat up at this. His parents seldom spoke of their wedding. There were pictures of his mother in a beautiful white dress standing arm in arm with his tuxedoed father. There was even one of the three of them. Every time Gustave had asked his parents about the circumstances surrounding their wedding and why they had left France so suddenly was a mystery to him, as his father would gruffly state that it was nothing that concerned him, and his mother would force a smile and change the subject.

Erik was half tempted to tell his son the truth. The two of them had needed to return to France to have Christine's citizenship changed. A problem had occurred with this involving a wait until they could marry. As a result, they married before changing her citizenship and had had to do so in a great deal of secrecy as to keep Erik from being discovered. Today was not the day to bring up old ghosts of the past, however, and Erik merely smiled. "I was half afraid she'd run off on me."

"But she didn't."

"No." Erik leaned back in his chair and crossed his ankles over each other. "She never did."

Gustave pushed himself to his feet. "I need to get dressed, don't I?"

"I suppose," Erik said, rubbing his chin. "I don't suppose any of the women would be too happy to see you get married in lounge pants."

A small smile played across Erik's lips as Gustave rose and bumbled around for a bit before removing his jacket. Rising, Erik left his son alone and went to seek out Christine. Turning a corner, he found her sitting outside Isabella's dressing room reading a novel. He leaned down and kissed her cheek.

"Now may I say that I am old?" he asked teasingly.

She closed her book and placed it in her lap. "You may refer to yourself as old when Eve gets married. Until then, you must remain active." She winked and stood up, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you more," he murmured, kissing her cheek and stepping back to take in her appearance. She was wearing a gown of red and crème silk damask and he thought she was breathtaking. He gently touched the rubies that circled her neck. "I remember when I gave you these. But don't you think today is a…somewhat contradictory day to wear them?"

For the necklace she wore had been given to her as a gift after her miscarriage. She seldom wore them, saying that, as much as she loved them, it saddened her to think about why they had been given to her. Today, though, she wore them with a smile on her face.

"I want all of us to be here today," she said softly, taking her husband's hands. "Even Mary."

Erik swallowed hard as a lump formed in his throat. "That's lovely, darling."

There was a small commotion at the opposite end of the hall and Raoul and Sonia tumbled, laughing, from a little used prop room. Sonia's cheeks were flushed and Raoul's cravat was slightly off center as they clung to each other, still giggling. Erik cleared his throat and their heads snapped toward him. Sonia gasped, delicately place a hand over her lips, but Raoul winked and whisked Sonia away toward the theater. As soon as they were out of sight and the sound of their footsteps had faded, Erik and Christine dissolved into giggles like a pair of teenagers just discovering two friends in the middle of lovers' rendezvous. The dressing room opened and Isabella poked her head out and they both stifled their laughs.

"Have you seen my parents?" she asked. She looked at them, confused, as they dissolved once again into laughter. Just then, Raoul and Sonia reappeared, straightened up but still flushed, from the corner they had disappeared around.

"Hello, darling," Raoul said, kissing his daughter's cheek. "Are you nearly ready?"

Isabella didn't move for a moment before a panicked look came over her face and she grabbed her mother's wrist, dragging her into the dressing room. As soon as the door was shut, they heard Isabella launch into a stream of rapid Italian while Sonia attempted to console her. The three of them still in the hallway were quiet for a moment, all of them thinking the same thing, before Christine let out a small snort and they all burst into hysterics again. After several more minutes, they were finally able to sober and Erik shook his head at his former rival.

"I see you are currently lacking in marital problems," he said.

"You see correctly," Raoul said. "If you'll excuse me, I need to go make sure everything's ready to go."

As he turned to go, Christine called behind him, "Wouldn't you be so kind as to check to make sure the chandelier is secure?"

Erik grabbed her around the waist and quickly moved her to the prop room at the other end of the hall.

Gustave had seated his mother next to his father and ascended the stairs onto the stage. It had been Isabella's idea to have the wedding in the place where he had first laid eyes on her. He couldn't have agreed more, and he now stood in front of a church official as he waited for Bella to emerge through the doors at the back. He turned around to look at Jean, who was acting as best man, and received an encouraging smile.

"Ready?" he asked.

Taking a deep breath, Gustave nodded. "If she comes."

"She will." And right on cue, the orchestra went into "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring" and the doors opened.

Gustave could not breathe. She was draped all in the most delicate white lace and her face was covered by a white veil. She seemed to float down toward him, only held down to earth by the grip she had on her father's arm. Before he knew what was happening, she was next to him and her father had handed her off to him, murmuring for him to take care of his baby. Gustave heard himself swear to God that he would, and the rest passed in a rush. They recited vows to each other, promises of unending love and faithfulness. Then the official told him that the lace-covered goddess before him was his wife, and that he was her husband, and he was lifting the veil with shaking fingers to kiss tender, inviting lips.

It seemed to be only two seconds later that he was sitting at a table with his family, both sides, being toasted over and over with champagne. They danced and made fools out of themselves being so ridiculously in love and time only slowed down when he thought of how much he wanted to get in the carriage and go to the hotel they were staying at before they left the next afternoon for their honeymoon.

It was midnight before the party wound down enough for them to leave. Raoul, a bit tipsy, clasped his hand and made Gustave promise, again, to never break the heart of his only little girl. His father staggered over, laughing, to tell him to have fun, before his mother pulled him away, kissing her son's cheek and telling him how proud of him she was.

Without a backward glance, Gustave and Isabella hopped into the carriage. As soon as the door was shut behind them, Isabella attacked his face with those lips and he crushed her to him. His hands wandered restlessly up and down her body and she let out a soft moan.

Jean had already checked them into the hotel earlier in the day, so the two of them headed up the stairs and tumbled into their room. Gustave could hardly wait to get the dress off of her, but he truly needed to go to the bathroom. He excused himself, promising to hurry. When he returned, he was disappointed that he did not immediately see her but when he turned to look at the bed the breath was knocked out of his body for what felt like the millionth time that day when he saw her lounging in nothing but a silk, transparent camisole.

In a matter of two or three short minutes, he was divested of all his clothing and lying on top of his new wife, ready for everything they would give each other.

Erik collapsed onto his back for the third time that night, his wife giggling beside him. She traced her fingers over his chest, smiling. "How do you feel?" she asked.

"Exhausted." He closed his eyes and pulled her closer to him. "I love you."

"I know," Christine said dryly. "You made that clear the second time."

"You know I last longer the second time around."

"What was your excuse for the last one?"

"An excess of stamina." He kissed her forehead. "I love you, Christine."

Calais, France—August, 1904

Things had been ridiculously quiet ever since Angelique left. The vivacious young woman had declared herself in love two years before to a dashing young man from Paris, and her wedding six months ago had been the stuff dreams were made of. The little girl who had run about the theater causing mischief was gone, replaced by a woman who now positively glowed in her fifth month of pregnancy. Now the little house by the sea was quiet, save for the seventeen year old who managed to keep her elderly father on his toes with suitor after suitor.

Today, she was out with some Scottish beau. What was his name… Butler. Gavin Butler. He was a strapping young man who worked as an architect in Paris and was eight years Eve's senior. It seemed that Eve had met him three months ago while visiting her sister, who had then been renovating her house, and had been positively smitten with him. She had gone to dinner with him to find out more about him and was surprised to find out that he was a young widower. Only twenty-five, he was raising his son, Andy, by himself. The boy's mother had died in childbirth and Gavin had been alone ever since.

He had been hesitant to court her, as he was employed by her sister, which presented Eve with something she had never had before—a challenge. She had won, of course. Since then, the young man had traveled the nearly two hundred miles every month to spend as much time as he could in Calais visiting her, leaving his son in the care of his nurse. Amazingly, Eve seemed to have been tamed by this man. She no longer had five or six hopeless young men doting about her at once. She simply seemed to ignore them, biding her time with her mother in the parlor. She was growing up so quickly that she was nearly unrecognizable.

Erik hadn't realized that he had been drowsing until he heard the buggy coming up the lane. He opened his eyes in time to see it come to a stop and Gavin hop down. He offered a hand to help Eve out, and she stepped down beside him, smiling slightly and looking a bit flushed as he kissed her fingers lovingly. She saw Erik and waved happily. "Hello, daddy!"

He smiled and waved, reaching for his cane and pushing himself to his feet. Eve rushed over to help him, but he waved her off. "I'm fine," he said. He kissed her cheek. "Did you have fun in town?"

"Yes," she said. "We went to a carnival and he won me sweets."

Erik smiled down at his youngest daughter. "Good." He reached out the hand not holding his cane to Gavin. "It's good to see you again."

"You as well, sir," the younger man said.

The door opened then, and Christine stepped out, smiling. "Hello, darling." She hugged Eve to her and smiled at Gavin. "How is Paris, Gavin?"

"Oh, you know," he said, leaning against a post. "Smokey, busy, loud. Same as always."

As Christine gave a small laugh, Eve took her hand. "Mother, can Gavin stay for dinner?"

"Of course," she said, smiling. She looked at her daughter's suitor. "You're always welcome to stay."

Gavin gave Christine a small bow. "Thank you, Madam."

After the roast had been consumed, the four of them retired to the parlor for coffee. Eve seemed a bit jumpy and Gavin kept straightening his tie. When the conversation had slowed, Gavin cleared his throat. "Count Dussek," he said slowly. "I wonder if I could interest you in a cigar."

Erik nodded. "I'd like that," he said, rising. "Let's go outside, then, shall we?"

Cigars lit, the two men stood side by side for several minutes, silently watching as the sun set behind the seemingly endless expanse of sea. Erik was jerked from his thoughts when Gavin cleared his throat. "I'd like to speak with you, sir."

Out of the corner of his eye, Erik looked at the young man. "About what?"

"I wonder, sir, what you think of me."

"I think," said Erik thoughtfully, "that you are a respectable young man. A bit disarming, but stern when you need to be. Sturdy, dependable. You have a job with a promising future. And I also think that you have a question for me."

Gavin stood a bit straighter. "Yes, sir." He cleared his throat again, a bit nervously this time. "I've been thinking a great deal the past few months. Andy's getting to that age where he wants to know why. Why is the sky blue, why are the trees green. Then one day he asked me why he doesn't have a mother like everyone else." There was a rough inhale of breath before he said, "I know I love Eve, and she knows she loves me. I haven't felt anything like this in five years, and that's a long time. I think—we think—that she'd be a great mother for Andy and the perfect wife for me." The hands that were rough from years of manual labor tightened on the porch rail. "I promise I'd make her happy."

Erik blew a smoke ring into the air in front of him before he answered. "I've always seen a bit of myself in you, Gavin," he said. "You're not afraid of getting dirty, you work to make the woman you love happy, you're a good father, and you're fine with a fiddle in your hands." He smiled a bit. "I don't suppose I'd mind a bit if you married my daughter. But allow me to get one thing clear, young man. I may be old—" He tapped his cane for emphasis. "But I still know how to work a rope."

Gavin frowned. "Rope, sir?"

Erik laughed boomingly. "Let's go inside. I'm sure my wife would love to hear about all of this."

a/n Alas, there will be an epilogue—you know me. I like them. Notice anything funny about the young Scottish man? (giggles) Mrs. Butler… that's funny…

a/n 2 I'M NOT PREGNANT! (drinks a keg)