Kitty had been pleasantly surprised to find her daughter already asleep for her afternoon nap, but her ginger eyebrow critically arched at Vivienne's sleeping position. The toddler was stretched out like a starfish across the legs of the four-foot-tall stuffed bunny. Kitty quietly crouched down, adjusting the mauve blanket, holding her breath as her daughter wrapped her arms around the rabbit's leg then curled into a ball. "Thank goodness," she breathed, realizing Vivienne was sleeping soundly. Kitty kissed her head and rose to her full height, turning around while Alexandre climbed onto his bed.
The loving mother ruffled his curls as he patiently waited for her to pull the indigo comforter back. She sat down while he dove under the covers. With a warm-hearted smile on her face, she tucked in Alexandre, leaning over to kiss his forehead, "Have a good nap, Baby."
Alexandre chewed on his lip while staring at her. "Maman," he shyly whispered.
"Yes, Sweetheart?"
He shrugged his shoulders as he heard his baby brother crying. The toddler glanced at Delia in the doorway before rolling over with a hefty sigh, shutting his eyes.
The redhead looked over her shoulder, holding up her index finger to her maid. Kitty wasn't sure if her son was having a hard time adjusting to not having the attention he'd been used to, or if it was something else since Christmas was approaching. She had a nagging feeling it was the latter. She gently rubbed her oldest son's side. "I love you so much, Alexandre," she pressed her lips to his cheek as she stroked his curls.
"I love you, too," he murmured, rubbing his face against the pillow.
With a heavy sigh, Kitty eased off the bed and drifted to the doorway, taking the one-week-old infant from her maid. "Oh, Luc," she softly spoke while he stretched and squirmed, putting his small fist to his mouth. She held him against her chest, stroking the back of his head while he rooted around. "I know what you want. Just a minute," she assured, drifting across the hall to the master suite.
By the time she had Luc settled and asleep in his cradle, Alexandre was scaling the chaise lounge, readily snuggling into his mother's comforting embrace.
Kitty brushed her fingers through his tawny-brown curls, remembering how much she'd sobbed after his first haircut. He'd looked too much like a little man afterward. "You couldn't sleep?"
He shook his head, resting his head on her bosom while twisting his fingers into her loosely curled tresses.
"That's alright," she soothed, sensing his anxiety. Her sweet, quiet boy was so much like his biological father, but she didn't want him to suppress his deep emotions like the U.S. Marshal always had. She knew she had to help him express his feelings. Kitty pressed her lips to the boy's forehead, crooking her finger underneath his chin a moment later. "I can't sleep sometimes," she professed.
Alexandre tilted his head. "Really?"
"Really, especially if Papa's on a trip, and I'm missing him. It's alright to miss someone, Alexandre."
He stopped winding a curl around his finger and buried his face into her chest, starting to softly cry. "I miss Marshal."
"Oh, Honey," Kitty murmured, rubbing his back as he sniffled. "I know you miss him. I miss him, too," she admitted, fighting her own tears as Alexandre lifted his head, staring at her with tears clouding his striking blue eyes.
"You do?"
"Mmhmm," she answered. She did miss Matt. Kitty missed the joy he brought to their son with his visits. She missed the big man's flabbergasted expressions when Vivienne would climb into his lap, speaking to him in French. Kitty gently dabbed Alexandre's flushed, tear-soaked cheeks with her sleeve. "I'm sure he misses you, too."
"Maman," Alexandre hiccupped. "Is he comin'? Christmas?"
She swallowed hard, wondering how often she'd have to console a heartsick child if she'd been married to Matt Dillon. How often would she have to explain why he'd miss holidays, birthdays, and everything in between because of his badge. Unfortunately, Kitty was doubtful that Matt would come for Christmas, since he hadn't responded to any of her letters. She sucked in a breath, torn between a lie and the truth.
"Baby, I don't know. I'm sure he'll do his best to be here," she murmured, feeling her heart break from the tremble of her son's bottom lip.
Kitty,
Congratulations to you and Henri on the birth of your son. I won't be coming to New Orleans for Christmas or the twins' birthday. It's better if I keep my distance from now on. I am grateful to you and your husband for the chance to get to know them. Please, give Alexandre and Vivi hugs and kisses from me. You'll find their Christmas and birthday gifts in the crate.
Matt
Her mouth creased into a straight line as she finished reading the letter aloud to her husband. She crumpled the paper in her hands, wildly ranting and cursing Matt Dillon as she furiously paced back and forth on the silk and wool Persian rug in the sunroom. She'd written to Matt, begging him one last time to come for Christmas.
Henri scooted to the edge of the velvet armchair, tugging the shipping crate toward him, digging around until his fingers touched a small box. He opened the jewelry box, sighing softly at the tiny necklace with charms. The Frenchman carefully examined the three small discs – a double heart, an infinity symbol, and a carnation engraved into the gold. A sorrowful smile graced his lips at the thoughtfulness of Vivienne's gift. He found a larger box, tightly wrapped. His curiosity overcame him. Henri unwrapped the present from its confines, gasping at the craftsmanship of the tea set. He ran his fingertip over the hand painted floral design, glancing at his fuming wife, deciding to let her continue her tirade. His thick brows rose at the sight of a crocheted antler peeking out from some burlap. He tugged on the antler, lifting the hand-crafted stuffed white-tail deer out. As he noticed the pair of leather boots in the box, Henri quickly realized they were exactly like the lawman's boots, except much smaller.
"Kathleen," he murmured, hoping the love and care Matt had put into choosing their gifts would soothe her anger. He raked his hand though his hair, pushing off the chair and walking to her. "Stop, Kathleen," he growled, getting her attention by pulling on her upper arm.
"Henri, he can't do this to them! He just can't! Alexandre'll be heartbroken when I tell him."
He gently gripped her arms, locking his eyes onto hers. "Kathleen, it's Matthew's decision. No matter how much you want to change it…you cannot, mon amour. I'll take care of Alexandre," he promised, picking up the handmade stuffed animal. Henri handed her the toy, watching her clutch it to her chest.
Kitty pressed her nose into the head of the crocheted deer, recognizing Matt's unique scent. She sighed, appreciating the familiar needlework of Ma Smalley. "Why can't he do this for them?" she mumbled as her husband's arms enveloped her.
Henri rested his chin on the top of her head, smoothing his hand down the length of her auburn hair, whispering, "Matthew loves the children, Kathleen. He loves them enough to let them go…just as I had to let their mother go a very long time ago. But I want you to honestly examine why you are so upset. Is it really only for the twins, or are you angry he no longer wishes to see you, either?"
She slowly lifted her auburn head, gaping at her husband's handsome, solemn face. "What did you say?"
Before her husband could utter a word, Kitty brazenly pushed him against the pool-blue lacquered wall, rising up on her toes, passionately seizing his lips as her slender fingers peeled off his wool suit coat. His groan of pleasure spurred her, swiftly unbuttoning his vest until her fingers found their way to his belt buckle.
Henri put his large hand over hers, clutching her fingers gently while breaking the seal of their lips. "Stop, mon amour," he faintly beseeched, unfazed by the blaze of fire in her eyes. The Frenchman cupped her face, stroking her jawline with his thumb. "You don't have to prove your love for me," he whispered, softly pressing his bruised lips to her cheek before brushing past her.
Festus whistled as he stepped into the office with mail in his hands. His thick brows rose in disbelief at the sight of the lawman. He'd expected the big man to be packed and ready to set off for the train depot, but the U.S. Marshal was sitting behind his desk working through a mountain of paperwork. "Matthew!" the hillman's voice warbled as he pushed the door shut with his foot. "You're gonna miss the train," he jangled toward the desk.
Matt closed a folder and testily eyed his deputy. "Is that the mail, Festus?" he gruffly asked.
"Yes'sum," he answered. "Matthew, there ain't no sense in you missin' that train."
"Festus, the mail."
He caught the edge of Matt's deep voice, sighing while placing the neat stack on the desk. "That's your'n, too," he mumbled, assuming the telegram was personal since Barney hadn't told him the contents.
"Thanks, Festus," Matt took the paper, hesitantly unfolding it since his gut told him who the message was from.
Message received STOP I won't bother you again STOP
K. Broussard
He pushed his chair back. "Let's get a beer, Festus."
"Alright, Matthew," he replied. His friend's suggestion of a pint at such an early hour confirmed that the wire was personal. He wished he could read as he headed towards the door, glancing over his shoulder at his best friend.
Matt slipped the telegram into his shirt pocket, pulling his coat and Stetson from the peg. As he dropped his hat onto his head, he was certain his heartache would stay with him longer than Kitty had.
The St. Charles Avenue mansion was impeccably decorated with festive wreaths and garlands, but the showpiece was the seven-foot-tall Leyland Cypress that had come from The Oaks. The dark green branches were adorned with strings of ribbon, bows, and handblown glass ornaments sent from a French cousin. The scents of cinnamon, nutmeg, and clove ghosted throughout the downstair rooms, rousing memories of past holidays.
The elderly man sank into the comfort of the plush armchair, listening to the crackling of the fire while savoring the dwindling charm of the night. Doc had overindulged in réveillon, the long, luxurious Christmas Eve meal that had begun in the evening and lasted until close to midnight. He'd relished every single bite of the six-course feast, but the main course had been his favorite, roasted turkey with a chestnut stuffing served with gratin dauphinois and green beans almondine. He chuckled to himself as he sipped his cognac, recalling all the times he'd chastised Chester Goode for overeating.
As he quietly surveyed the room and let out a content sigh, Doc realized that he'd never truly enjoyed the holiday until retiring and relocating to New Orleans. He knew it was because of his cherished, adopted family, especially his grandchildren. There was a distinct pleasure in watching the twins tear open a few gifts after midnight, but the toddlers had given into the events of the evening.
His eyes drifted to his precious granddaughter passed out on the settee with remnants of Bûche de Noël around her mouth. Her brother was on the other end, soundly sleeping with his cowboy boots on his feet. Doc tenderly smiled at Kitty, discreetly nursing her three-week-old infant. He glanced at Henri, sipping brandy and nibbling on pain d'Amandes. The hiss of a log in the hearth claimed his attention as he finally noticed the late hour. Doc knew the twins would be awake bright and early to open the rest of their presents brought by Père Noël. He eased out of the armchair at the same time the Frenchman rose to his feet.
"Galen, would you prefer Alexandre or Vivi?" Henri asked.
Doc nodded towards his grandson. He began to tug a leather boot off the boy's foot, stopping at the sound of Alexandre's grunts and mumbles while Henri unclasped Vivienne's charm necklace without her stirring.
"Leave 'em on him, Curly," Kitty requested softly, kissing her heavy-lidded infant son's downy cocoa-colored locks.
With an affectionate grin on his lips, Doc bowed his head, lifting his grandson from the sofa, following the attractive couple up the staircase. He counted his blessings with each step he took.
The moon hung in the sky, bathing the bedroom in her silvery light while the devoted father woke with a stiff, aching neck. His palm curved around the stinging tissue, kneading softly with his fingertips.
As custom on the eve of the children's birthday, Henri had told his son and daughter the story of the night they'd come into the world. He'd been humbled by their inquisitive minds, but he'd managed with his wife's help until she'd left to tend to Luc. Fortunately, Alexandre had crawled into his bed by the end of the account, but Vivienne had required a song or two before she stopped fighting sleep.
Henri unwound his daughter's arms from around him, carefully slipping out of her grasp. "Fais de beaux rêves, dors bien, mon petit amour," he whispered, stroking her copper tresses away from her eyes. He crept over to his son's bed, pulling the duvet over him, kissing his temple, "Fais de beaux rêves, dors bien, mon doux fils."
He quietly padded out of the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him and crossing the hallway to the master suite.
"Well, I never thought you'd come back," Kitty teased from her spot on the chaise lounge, beaming as her husband joined her. "Luc has a full belly and is content," she motioned to the baby's crib.
Henri gathered her into his arms, brushing his lips against the curve of her neck before kissing along her jaw. "Kathleen," he hummed, "we'll have a three-year-old boy and girl tomorrow."
"Mmhmm," she responded, sinking into the comfort and warmth of her husband's body against hers. Her skin tingled at the sensation of his warm breath against her ear.
"I want another baby with you."
Her brows rose while her mind whirled, wondering if she'd misheard him. "What?"
"I want another baby with you, mon amour," he reiterated while she turned to stare at him. Henri realized she was flabbergasted by his admission.
"Luc isn't even a month old, Henri. I'm almost thirty-eight-years-old. I—"
He briefly put his finger over her lips. "Chérie, I didn't mean right now. I dream of us with four children. I always have," he proclaimed. For years, he'd had dreams of two sons and two daughters, but the second daughter had recently become clearer to him. Henri combed his fingers through her long hair. "I can see the fourth, our second fille, with auburn hair like her mother but with the color of my eyes. My mother, Josephine, had brown eyes, Chérie. Will you consider another baby?" he sweetly requested.
Kitty chewed the inside of her cheek, subtly nodding her head. "I will, mon beau. For you," she tenderly kissed him.
Author's Note: I decided to post three chapters today. There'll be another jump in time with the next chapter. We're getting closer to that rainbow I'd mentioned.