Epilogue
LYDIA JAHLEELOVNA CHARLES—THE FUTURE
Anya House, London
I’m learning to write in exposition. That’s a fancy word my Papen’ka used to explain the notes he writes for me that I’m to read every Saturday, and then the special ones for Yuletide.
He said they will give me advice and secrets on how to win at chess and in life.
Papen’ka taught me that when penning a letter to my friends, I’m to inform them of how things are going.
I must say, I’ve had my challenges. I lose buttons all the time. I wanted my room painted with stripes, but they made me dizzy. It’s back to pink. A young lady who celebrates every Saturday like a birthday runs out of things to ask for.
Mr. Thom and his sons run Thom-Wilcox Coal, and this week, they’ve purchased their fourth dray. Mr. Thom says he can see a little, mostly shapes and colors, but he knows how to convince customers to trust him and hire out our coal company.
Oh, I have cousins, now. Some are nice, and some I have to watch more carefully when they are here. My aunts and uncles bring them in and out of Anya House all the time. My grandmother loves all the little ones. She and I take turns reading to them.
Aunt Scarlett and Uncle Stephen’s clinic on Ground Street is doing well. My auntie is pushing for more treatments for chronic illness. I think … I know she will find a cure.
Neighbor Lady Livingston has had her second child, a girl this time.
My uncle Lord Mark’s mother, who lives very near, has championed her and led her introduction back into society.
The Marchioness of Prahmn has been a friend to Aunt Georgina, and my mother, too, since my uncle pays for her upkeep. It seems his nasty father disappeared.
Now for the not-so-good news: I still fight spring colds, and I do end up scaring everyone in the house. Sometimes, keeping on my stockings doesn’t work.
Now, the worst.
I delayed this lesson because Papen’ka, my father, is very sick.
Mamen’ka hasn’t left his side. I stay, too.
I don’t know what my world will be like if he fails to get well.
I haven’t known him long enough. We haven’t loved for forever, yet.
The baby they talk about, whether to come or imagine, hasn’t had the chance either.
I have something new to report. Papen’ka is good. He pulled through. He made it down the stairs this morning. He declares a full recovery will happen because he’s not done celebrating his family. I believe him. He never lies.
So I write this to tell you that everyone is happy, safe, and still in love with each other. Love keeps winning. Our gamble on us continues.
Yours ever,
L. J. Charles