Epilogue – Worth Living For

Paris 1883

Erik

The fog outside the carriage seems to consume us as we travel through Paris to the Luxembourg Estate. Though the day is dreary, I can only think of good things, of how everything will be settled by the end of the day. Christine's head rests on my shoulder, my arm cradling her body, her hand on my leg, covered with my own. I look at the seat across from mine and see little Gustav staring out the window onto the foggy streets. "What's so interesting?" I ask him, though I've come to find that small children find interest in the most trivial things.

"It's different," the little boy answers, peering up at me through his large and glassy gray-green eyes. "This isn't like the other places."

"No, it's not," I reply, running my fingers through the loose tendrils of Christine's hair. "But you will like it here." Gustav returns to his entranced state, looking out of the misted window and into the world beyond the carriage. He presses a small hand to the glass and removes it, leaving a clear imprint in the condensation.

As we roll to a stop, I rise immediately, gently resting Christine on the seat, and open the carriage door, placing my fedora on my head at the perfect angle and stepping out onto the cobblestones. "Wake your mother, Gustav," I remind the young boy as I walk away from the carriage and up the steps to the door.

I knock on the door and wait patiently for an answer. A maid finally opens the large oak door and says in a very cultured voice, "May I help you, monsieur?"

"Is your mistress at home?" I ask her, and the maid nods. "Please tell her that Erik is here; she will know what you mean." The maid closes the door gently and hurries off inside. I glance back at the carriage and see Gustav trying to wake Christine from her deep sleep.

"Erik!" Meg's shrill cry pulls me from my reverie as I feel her embrace me like a brother, completely out of propriety, but she was never one for that. When she lets go, I remove my hat and bow to her like a gentleman.

"Good afternoon, Madame," I say to her and she chuckles.

"Oh, Erik, it's wonderful to see you!" She pauses, then looks at the open carriage. "Where is Christine?"

"She'll be along," I reply, just as Gustav jumps out of the carriage and looks around. I beckon to him with my hand and he runs over to me, his short, deep brown curls, so like his mother's, bouncing as he moves, his eyes dancing. He drives head-on into my legs, wrapping his arms around them and burying his face in the fabric of my trousers. "Gustav, say hello to your Aunt Meg."

Meg looks at me questioningly, but then crouches down and meets Gustav's green-eyed gaze. "Bonjour, Gustav," she says to him.

"Gustav, where are your manners?" I ask him when he doesn't respond.

"Bonjour," he replies quietly, reciting the French Christine has taught him with ease.

"How old are you, Gustav?" Meg asks, trying to gain his attentions. The boy does not respond verbally, and merely puts his hand out showing all five fingers. "Five years old? Such a big boy!" I feel Gustav giggling against my leg and I look down to see that Meg is tickling him in the stomach. Quickly he loses his shyness and jumps into her arms in a miniature bear hug, Meg grinning from ear to ear.

Meg's line of vision shifts and I follow it, seeing Christine step from the carriage, adjusting her skirts. Immediately Gustav runs to her, allowing me time to talk with Meg. "He's a beautiful boy, Erik," she says kindly, placing a friendly hand on my arm as Christine plucks Gustav up off the ground and rests him on her hip, walking towards us while talking to him.

As she draws nearer, she places him on the ground and looks to us, seeing me and then Meg. I do not know who runs faster as the two women hurry to embrace one another. There are tears, laughter, and joy just pouring from them as I watch, Gustav taking my large hand in his small one.

When Meg and Christine finally calm down, Meg takes Gustav's hand and says, "Come inside, mon petit garçon. Johannes and Gabrielle will be so delighted to meet you," referring to her own children. As she leads Gustav inside, I feel Christine grab hold of my hand, leaning against me slightly.

"Are you glad to be home, mon amour?" I ask her, kissing her forehead.

"It will take some readjustment," she states, "but everything will turn out just fine." She puts her arms around my chest, resting her head close to my heart, and I hold her in the embrace, caressing her arms and back. Looking out past her, I see the attendants taking our luggage from the carriage and bringing them into the mansion, carrying each piece inside with care and speed. "Erik?"

Christine pulls away from me and looks up into my eyes. "Yes, Christine?"

"Thank you," she says gently, returning to my arms and relaxing against me. She needn't say what for, because I know. Everything has come full-circle; we are right back where we started. But this is not the end; this is a new beginning.

Christine

"Holy Father?"

"Yes, Madame…"

"…Garnier. Madame Christine Garnier."

"Ah, yes. What is it that you seek confession for, Madame?"

"Holy Father, I came to you near a decade ago begging forgiveness for thinking of another man though I was married."

"Yes, Madame, continue."

"I was afraid that thinking of this man would cause distress in my marriage. I loved my husband and I couldn't ruin the beauty of our union because of childish fantasy."

"I understand, Madame. Please go on."

"My husband passed away in the early winter of eighteen seventy-four, and I was being forced into a second marriage of which I wanted no part. I ran out on my wedding, Holy Father, and left for the East."

"May I inquire as to what went on?"

"I…"

"Milady, this is for your own religious purification and it would do you well to answer, and answer truthfully."

"In Persia I was drawn into the world of the harem, and I regrettably performed sinful acts on men. I myself remained pure in body, but not in mind or action."

"Thank you, milady. Is there anything else?"

"The man I had thought of during my marriage found me there, having known me in previous years. Much confusion went on, of course, but eventually…"

"Did you treat him as you would a stranger, or as an acquaintance?"

"I…"

"Milady, please respond."

"Holy Father, has there ever been a reason to not follow religious duty?"

"Why, Madame, do you ask?"

"Because, Holy Father, I have found something worth sinning over."

La Fin

Well, my darlings, that, I do believe, is the end. Thank you so much for following me on this journey, from Paris to Persia and back again. Your support, encouragement, love, tears, and so much else have made this story worthwhile for me to write. It has given me such joy to see your responses, your conflicts, your rants, and all of the other things you've done in your reviews. I will miss you all dearly, but I hope that you will all join me on my next writing endeavor, whatever that is.

With love, forever and always,

N.S.L. Jewelles

"Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within." -James Baldwin

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