10
Marie
I ˇve just put bread in the oven when a knock sounds on the door. Itˇs odd-we rarely get visitors midday because weˇre so far from town, and certainly no one on foot. A little boy stands there with a piece of paper in his hand .
I recognize him heˇs the grandson of Edouardˇs secretary. I tip him and tear open the envelope. My hands are shaking. If heˇs sent word like this, it must be good news. It must. Perhaps heˇs been replaced. Perhaps tonight we will leave. I wish I had better luggage .
And then I see the handwriting, and I know something has gone wrong. Itˇs from Edouard, but a messy, frantic scrawl has replaced his careful script .
A priest arrived from Reims this morning and told me to pack my things. They are forcing me to leave. Iˇm to see the monsignor in Paris. I have no other details. Go ahead with your plans. I canˇt say more here in case this is intercepted. But I pray you know it already .
For a moment I can only stare at the words. I just donˇt understand. Who forced him leave? And why did he agree ?
And then the more important realization sinks deep in my chest: heˇs gone, and whatever it is he thought I already knew...I donˇt know. He said he wanted to marry me, he said he loved me, but if those things were still true, heˇd never have just left me behind in this way. Itˇs not as if he didnˇt have a choice .
I have no idea if this letter is goodbye forever or goodbye for now .
I press the paper against my chest, unable to get a grip on my emotions .
¨Marie?〃 Amelie asks. ¨What is it ?〃
¨Edouardˇs been sent away,〃 I whisper .
Henriˇs eyes narrow at this. Iˇm on dangerous ground with him but too upset to care. ¨Sent away where ?〃
¨They wouldnˇt tell him,〃 I reply, staring at the words on the paper as tears fall freely. ¨He says a priest from Reims arrived this morning and told him to pack his things. Heˇs going to see the monsignor in Paris .〃
¨Why would he write you personally about this?〃 Henri demands. ¨Because Edouard must have done something wrong to be sent away like that, and it seems very suspect that he found time to write you , of all people .〃
Distress and outrage make my temper flare. ¨Youˇre living in sin! How dare you judge anything he does ?〃
¨Iˇm not a priest!〃 he yells. ¨And your overreaction right now leads me to think he wasnˇt acting like much of a priest himself .〃
¨He loves me,〃 I insist, though already a small voice in the back of my head is now questioning that. Is questioning everything. ¨He asked the church to replace him here so we could be together. Thereˇs no shame in it .〃
Henri has never looked more disappointed in me. ¨God, Marie,〃 he says softly. ¨Heˇs a grown man. He didnˇt need to ask anyoneˇs permission to be with you if thatˇs what he wanted. Did he...take liberties ?〃
Tears stream down my face. ¨You just donˇt understand! I knew you wouldnˇt !〃
¨Answer the question,〃 he demands. ¨Did he, or did he not, take liberties ?〃
Iˇd have to be crazy to tell him the truth, given how angry he is. ¨No,〃 I reply, and then I run to the comfort of my room and bed, slamming the door behind me .
No matter how much I want to deny what Henri said, I know it must be true. Edouard didnˇt have to seek permission to be with me. And if he loved me a fraction of the way I do him, heˇd never have left me the way he has .
The next days are grueling. There is no word from Edouard. I continue to go to the church, to keep up appearances while hoping for a hint of whatˇs happened to him, but people will barely speak to me. No one will eat the food I bring. My language classes now only have one or two attendees at most. Irene glares at me when I enter each day with such animosity itˇs almost painful. Father Etienne, whoˇs replaced Edouard, coolly tells me a few nights later that my assistance is no longer needed with the parish supper, and that my time would be better spent in prayer .
Amelie has to go home for a few weeks, and itˇs a relief to have an excuse to stay home and avoid town altogether. But Henri, anxiously awaiting her return and worried about the war, is short-tempered and unbearable, which leaves me feeling as if I have no one at all. Sadness exhausts me. I fall asleep on the couch whenever thereˇs a free moment, and Iˇm too nauseous to eat .
I begin to wonder if I will ever recover from Edouardˇs departure. Iˇd expected to be heartsick, but I didnˇt expect to feel as if Iˇd die in the process .
And then one morning I wake and that ever-present nausea has come to a head. I rush for the bathroom, and even as Iˇm running, it all comes to me in a terrible moment of realization: these are not symptoms of a broken heart, and I did not have my cycle this month .
I stagger to the floor beside the toilet. Iˇm pregnant . Edouard and I were careless, swept away by how all-consuming it was and how momentous it seemed. It was as if we thought the fact that he is a priest would offer some kind of protection of its own. And itˇs something I canˇt tell anyone, Henri least of all. God knows what heˇd do if he found out .
I manage to keep my secret. Henri is called to the front, which sends the whole house into chaos. I resolve to wait until Henri is gone to tell Amelie Iˇm pregnant. Heˇll be livid when he learns, but itˇs the only way. In all likelihood, the child will be born by the time he finds us in England .
Nonetheless, itˇs hard to see Henri go. If anyone can survive this war itˇs my brother, but Amelie and I spend the day following his departure on the cusp of tears. And as I watch her that night, her first as a single mother, I can no longer hold mine in .
¨Please donˇt cry,〃 she rasps, her voice beginning to wobble. ¨Iˇm keeping myself together right now, but barely .〃
Suddenly, I canˇt keep the secret to myself a moment longer .
¨Iˇm pregnant,〃 I whisper .
The spoon in Amelieˇs hand clatters to the floor .
¨I didnˇt want Henri to know,〃 I continue. ¨Heˇd blame Edouard .〃
Sheˇs always been so sympathetic toward Edouard and my feelings for him, but I see none of that sympathy now. ¨How could he have slept with you and then just left ?〃
¨It wasnˇt his fault,〃 I reply. ¨He tried to stop it and I wouldnˇt let him .〃
Her mouth is tight. ¨Thereˇs no possible way he doesnˇt bear some responsibility .〃
¨He asked the church to relieve him of his duties and find him another position. They said no. All his training is in theology and heˇs not qualified to do anything else. Heˇs been looking for teaching positions, but with the war, no one is hiring, and he wonˇt marry me until he can support me. He thought I would be safer in England with you until he found something .〃
I watch as she fights the impulse to argue, to criticize. ¨Does he know ?〃
¨Heˇs only been able to get me one very short note because theyˇre punishing him for breaking his vows, but heˇs still looking for a way out .〃
I donˇt know this, though. And as the weeks pass I increasingly wonder if itˇs true. It seems just as likely that heˇs resigned himself to remaining .
She stares at me, thinking hard. ¨You need to let Edouard know before we leave,〃 she finally concludes. ¨Maybe he refuses to let a woman support him, but when he realizes it means his child will be raised fatherless, he might relent a little .〃
Iˇve thought the same, although it terrifies me. What if he doesnˇt choose me? What if heˇs changed his mind? ¨I donˇt know how to find him. I suppose I could ask Monsignor DuPree in Paris, but Iˇm worried Iˇll get Edouard in trouble .〃
¨Then lie,〃 Amelie snaps. As always, she is decisive in ways Iˇm not. Act now and worry about morals later should be her motto. ¨Tell him Edouard is your cousin and you fled from Germany hoping to find him in Saint Antoine .〃
¨You want me to lie to Monsignor DuPree ?〃 I canˇt imagine lying to any priest, much less the monsignor .
¨Oh, so lying to a priest is a greater sin than sleeping with one?〃 she asks. ¨I love you like a sister, Marie, and Iˇll support whatever decision you make, but this isnˇt the time to be quibbling over minor ethical dilemmas .〃
I suppose she has a point. Amelie, in my shoes, would do anything necessary to get what she wants. Thatˇs how sheˇs ended up exactly where she wants to be. Perhaps, for once, I should follow her lead .
The next morning, early in the day, I sneak from the house, a bag in each hand, and catch the early train to Paris. I have other ways of getting there, obviously, but not with my bags in tow. I pray Edouard will actually want me to stay once he hears my news, but even that feels uncertain as Saint Antoine recedes behind me. I was so certain I knew him but after these weeks without a word, Iˇve begun to wonder if Henri was right and I am, perhaps, just impossibly na?ve .
The truth is that Iˇm furious at Edouard for leaving me, and I sometimes worry it will be a struggle to forgive him. Even if he no longer cared for me, did he not realize the way the town would blame me for his absence? And what will I do if I find him and he turns me away? What if this was all some ruse to help him get out of an awkward situation ?
I lean my head against the train window. No. There must be an explanation. Iˇve known Edouard a long time, and Iˇve never known him to be dishonorable, or a coward, and he would need to be both to have left the way he did if only to escape an obligation to me .
Itˇs early afternoon by the time I arrive at the monsignorˇs office, exhausted from the journey and an afternoon spent getting directed all over the city to find his temporary headquarters. Already, the money I brought is running low. If this goes poorly, Iˇll barely have enough to return to Saint Antoine .
Three women sit at a reception table when I enter the lobby. When I tell them Iˇm looking for Edouard Bertrand, they all look at each other. Which means they know something .
¨Iˇm sorry,〃 says the one in charge, ¨we canˇt give release a priestˇs whereabouts to just anyone .〃
¨Iˇm not just anyone. Iˇm family.〃 Itˇs true in a way .
Thereˇs a glint of defiance in her eye Iˇd like to smack clean off her face. ¨If he wanted to speak to you, Iˇm sure heˇd have been in touch.〃 The words land, just as she hoped, because theyˇre true. Heˇs had no reason not to write me .
I canˇt think about that now .
¨Then Iˇd like to see the monsignor,〃 I reply .
Her mouth twitches with amusement. ¨Do you have an appointment? Heˇs a busy man. He doesnˇt talk to any woman in off the street.〃 Oh, how I wish right now that I was Amelie. Sheˇd land some cutting blow, do something daring and defiant to get her way. But alas, Iˇm not Amelie. I can speak five languages, yet I canˇt talk myself out of a situation in a single one of them. ¨Then Iˇll wait,〃 I reply, taking a seat .
¨Suit yourself,〃 the woman says with a vicious smile. ¨It will do you no good .〃
For the next few hours, we sit facing each other, myself and these three women. They remain uncomfortable with my presence but nothing changes, and the monsignor never arrives, nor departs .
At six, they rise. I see pity in the face of the youngest girl, but the one I sparred with earlier is giving me a disdainful look. ¨Youˇll need to leave now. We are locking up for the day .〃
Which means the monsignor was never here at all. My chest burns with fury that she didnˇt bother mentioning it. My faith has always kept me from using my abilities to punish people, but the combination of rage and distress leaves me tempted to now. I could make this woman very sorry she was so dismissive. Sheˇs lucky I donˇt want to leave my bags unattended to do it .
I walk outside and close my eyes. I donˇt even know where Iˇll sleep tonight. I have just enough money to get home, if necessary, but not enough for a hotel. I planned all this so poorly .
¨Where will you go?〃 asks a meek voice .
My eyes open. Itˇs the young girl, the sympathetic one. ¨I really donˇt know. I hadnˇt planned for this .〃
¨Thereˇs a church that will take you in-Sainte Isabelle, near the Place du Bastille,〃 she says. She bites her lip and for a moment I think she will say more but instead she just walks away .
Groaning, I head south. My hands ache from the weight of the bags and my legs grow stiff. Why did I plan so poorly? Why must I always be so impetuous? Iˇm the one who got us captured in Paris once before. Iˇm the one who led Edouard astray. Iˇm the one who never thought to insist we use some kind of protection, though Iˇm not even sure what we could have used since itˇs illegal. I set my bags down and press a hand to my stomach. ¨Sorry,〃 I whisper, as if our child has heard my thoughts. ¨I donˇt regret you. I donˇt regret any of it. Iˇm just tired .〃
The sun has set by the time I reach the Place du Bastille and I still have no idea where, precisely, this church is. I stop for dinner, spending money I really donˇt have on food. I think the meal will rejuvenate me but when itˇs through Iˇm so exhausted I can barely keep my eyes open .
I ask directions from the waiter and am told the church is another five blocks away. I pick up my aching feet and begin to move again, more slowly now. I want to weep with relief when it finally comes into sight, but arriving also reminds me that Iˇm no closer to finding Edouard than I was when I left this morning. Suddenly it feels as if I donˇt have the energy to walk the last thirty yards. I want to sink to the ground and weep like a child .
I picture my mother here. It will all be better in the morning , she would say, the way she used to when I was young and overwrought. My eyes sting at the memory of her. What would she have to say about me now, wandering Paris alone, pregnant with the child of the village priest? Itˇs not the glorious future she saw for me, Iˇm sure .
A hand wraps around my elbow. ¨Can I help you, miss? You look lost .〃
The words are inoffensive, but the manˇs eyes are beady and his grip is rough. ¨Iˇm fine, thank you .〃
He doesnˇt relinquish my arm. ¨Come with me. A pretty girl like you shouldnˇt be wandering at this hour .〃
I pull but he holds fast. ¨Please let go of my arm. Iˇm not in need of assistance .〃
¨Iˇll decide what you need,〃 he says, stepping closer. ¨Come now. No need to make a fuss. Iˇm just trying to help you .〃
He tugs me in the direction opposite the church, and I panic. Already Iˇm thinking of the months Amelie and I were held captive, and though I know Iˇm not reliving it and I know I can escape from him if necessary, I panic .
¨Let me go!〃 I scream. I stomp on his foot and he raises a fist .
Before it can land, a large hand is wrapped around the manˇs neck .
It takes me a moment to realize my rescuer is Edouard .
¨How dare you?〃 Edouard roars. His fist hits the man square in the jaw, and my assailant stumbles and then runs .
Itˇs only then that Edouard turns to me then, his eyes wide and shocked. ¨Thank God I found you,〃 he groans. He reaches out, as if he will wrap his arms around me, and then stops himself .
His hand lands on my upper arm, the way it might an old friendˇs. Thatˇs when I finally take in his black shirt, his white priestˇs collar, the strain on his face. My stomach dives as I realize he doesnˇt want to be seen holding me. The priesthood still comes first, even here in Paris where no one knows us .
Henri was right. He always could have left. He just chose not to .
¨Still a priest, I see.〃 My voice trembles .
He flinches. ¨Letˇs go somewhere we can talk without being seen .〃
I give the smallest shake of my head. If heˇs chosen the priesthood, thatˇs really all I need to know and Iˇm not sure I will survive hearing apologies fall from his lips. ¨How did you find me ?〃
¨Someone in the monsignorˇs office called to say a woman from Saint Antoine was looking for me, and she thought you might be here. But God, Marie, what were you thinking? You shouldnˇt have come .〃
It feels like Iˇve been hit. My hand closes around the sharp pain in my throat, the urge to cry. ¨Youˇre right. I should not have come. I see that now.〃 I take a step backward .
His teeth sink into his lip. ¨Marie, I think you misunderstand me,〃 he says softly, urgently. ¨Come with me and Iˇll explain .〃
He flags down a cab and we ride in strained silence. The driverˇs eyes flicker to his mirror every other second. A handsome young priest and a pretty girl on the cusp of tears are enough to pique anyoneˇs interest, I imagine. But out of view, Edouardˇs hand slides over mine .
I donˇt know what to make of any of this. He came for me was he just worried I might damage his reputation? But then he defended me. Edouard , who doesnˇt believe in violence, punched someone on my behalf, which must mean he cares. But then he refused to touch me afterward, which must mean he intends to remain a priest .
Iˇve longed for him and now I only want to be alone, to weep and weep until I have no more tears left. I pull my hand away and let my head press to the window, taking small shallow breaths to hold myself together .
I should not have come. He doesnˇt need to know about the baby. Iˇll go on to England and raise the child there. Given the war, no one will question a young widow with a small child .
¨Iˇm going home.〃 I lean toward the driver. ¨We will pass Gare du Nord, yes?〃 I ask him. ¨Can you drop me there ?〃
¨No,〃 says Edouard, more forcefully than heˇs ever spoken to me or anyone else. ¨Go directly to St. Ambrose .〃
The driver looks at us both in the mirror and nods. Like any good Frenchman, heˇs unable to deny a priest .
¨I will make everything clear,〃 Edouard whispers .
¨It already is,〃 I reply .
¨I assure you itˇs not .〃
The neighborhoods worsen. With each block the denizens look more wary and shifty-eyed, the houses in increasing disrepair. We arrive at St. Ambrose but he directs me around to the back of the building, checking over his shoulder before he unlocks a small door and ushers me inside. We walk down a long hall and then another key leads to his rooms, the same size as the last but far dingier .
As soon as we are inside, with the door shut behind us, he pulls me toward him, but I stand my ground. ¨No.〃 My voice wobbles but I clench my fists against his chest to maintain my distance. ¨Why did you abandon me the way you did ?〃
His eyes squeeze shut. ¨I didnˇt abandon you,〃 he says. ¨They told me if I left right away, no harm would come to you, so I left. Didnˇt you receive my note ?〃
¨Yes, and it told me nothing. You gave me no idea if Iˇd ever hear from you again, and since the first words out of your mouth were that I shouldnˇt have come, I suppose thatˇs what you intended .〃
¨No, of course itˇs not. I meant to come for you in England once I knew you were safe. I was just worried that something would happen to you if the church discovered my plan .〃
¨Yet youˇre still a priest,〃 I say coolly. ¨Youˇre still too scared to even embrace me in public, so something has changed .〃
He releases me and his shoulders sag. ¨Iˇm sorry. I have a duty here. Until itˇs discharged, I canˇt leave. But that doesnˇt mean I havenˇt chosen you, Marie .〃
I sag against the wall. I think of Henriˇs words. Heˇs an adult. He could have left the church if he wanted to .
My brother was right. Even if Edouard doesnˇt realize it, he is not willing to leave, not really. I need to think and I canˇt do it with him so close, hovering over me with his perfect mouth and worried eyes .
I swallow. ¨Itˇs been a very long day. Is there somewhere I can sleep tonight ?〃
A muscle flickers in his jaw and his eyes darken. I think he wants to argue, but who knows? I seem to have misread him all along .
¨I have a spare room,〃 he says, glancing past the parlor. ¨If youˇd like .〃
I hold myself stiffly as I edge away from him. ¨This way, I assume ?〃
I reach for my bags and his hand folds over mine. ¨Allow me .〃
¨I have them, Edouard,〃 I reply. ¨Good night .〃
Itˇs only once Iˇve completed my toilette and put on my nightgown that I allow myself to weep. What he said made sense and would be noble, even, were it true. Yet here he is, insisting he canˇt leave, just as he did in Saint Antoine .
What a fool I am . What a ridiculous, besotted fool to think heˇd leave the church for me. And perhaps I could guilt him into leaving by telling him about the baby, but thatˇs not what I want. I need to know he really chose me, entirely on his own, and not out of a sense of obligation .
Was it only a month ago that he was above me, unrestrained, hair flopping over his forehead, muscles braced? There was no sign of the priest in him then, and my God if Iˇd known how this would turn out Iˇd have stayed that night. Iˇd have stayed and refused to leave .
Will I ever have that again? How will I go through an entire lifetime without his lips and his quiet groans and the sight of him above me, jaw locked as he comes ?
I twist in the sheets. Iˇd think that pregnancy should have ended all this craving, but instead itˇs worse than itˇs ever been .
I will never sleep, at this rate. I donˇt dare leave in the middle of the night, but the moment the sun rises I will gather my things and walk to Gare du Nord .
Suddenly, the quiet room echoes with the squeak of a hinge his door opening. My heart beats hard. Just knowing heˇs ten feet nearer than he was is enough to set it off. I hear the soft tread of his bare feet along the floor and my body goes taut. Heˇs coming toward my room. He stops just outside the door and I can almost feel him now. I can feel the heat of his skin and his slow exhalations and his uncertainty .
I hear his hand as it wraps around the doorknob, and watch, in the moonlight, as it turns...just a millimeter to the right before it returns to its place. I am breathless, staring at that knob, praying it will turn once more. Praying I wonˇt hear the sound of him retreating to his room .
I will not call out for him. I wonˇt follow him, if he chooses to leave. Iˇm willing to be the apple the devil has offered him, shiny and red, but I refuse to become the devil himself, throwing myself in his path at every turn when heˇs trying to do the right thing .
The knob turns, the door opens, and with two steps he stands at the foot of my bed. In the moonlight I see him thinner than he was, though his wide shoulders still stretch against his undershirt .
¨Marie.〃 His voice is guttural, a groan .
I say nothing, but simply move the sheet away and scoot to the side. His long lean body fills the space I vacated, and his hands go to my face. When his mouth finds mine, it is not the way I remember. He kisses me the way a starving man eats, the way a drowning man gasps, moving from my mouth to my neck. I canˇt help but respond in kind, even if heˇs broken my heart .
His hands grapple with my nightgown, sliding it over my thighs and stomach before wrenching it over my head. His mouth moves to neck as he rolls me to my back. ¨Iˇve missed you,〃 he groans. ¨So much .〃
Until now heˇs always waited for me, checked in to make sure I was fine. Tonight, he doesnˇt. He grabs himself and thrusts inside me with a quiet cry .
Itˇs so exquisite it borders on pain. It feels as if every nerve ending I possess is concentrated right there, where he is seated inside me. I cling, as if fighting him to remain right where he is .
He slowly drags backward and all those nerve endings dance and spin like dying stars .
When he pushes inside me again, I gasp. Everything is heightened and better and it feels too good. I would like to stay like this forever but forever isnˇt possible. Five minutes isnˇt possible. Already I feel it, the way my core has begun to wind up the way it does, like a spinning top just before it spirals wildly to completion .
He moves faster. I squeeze tight enough to crush him and then my teeth sink into his shoulder to muffle my cry .
¨Oh God,〃 he groans, and then pushes hard inside me, mouth buried in my neck as he comes .
We are so close I can feel his heavy breaths, his heart beating furiously. As it settles, his mouth moves, over my neck and then my jaw .
¨Itˇs been so awful without you,〃 he says. His voice is barely a whisper. ¨I didnˇt realize how impossible it would be to be separated from you. There have been times when I thought I was going mad .〃
I blink back tears. ¨Yet Iˇm not what youˇve chosen,〃 I whisper. ¨Otherwise you wouldnˇt insist on staying here, as if you have no free will .〃
¨I had every intention of going to England once I knew you all were safe,〃 he argues. ¨But circumstances have changed .〃
¨What circumstances, Edouard? Will you wait until the monsignor runs out of churches he can send you to ?〃
He laughs, quietly. ¨No, my sweet girl. And who knew what a sharp tongue existed alongside that angelic face? The circumstance is this: down in the basement, there are several Jewish families in hiding. They are trying to get out of France and remain here until I can get them out of the country .〃
¨Hiding ?〃 I ask. ¨But...why?〃 I know, from Amelie, that things are going to take a turn for the worse, but France is still a free country at the moment. And no one else has the benefit of Amelieˇs knowledge about the future .
¨Because Poland has already fallen to Germany, and itˇs said that any day now, Denmark and Norway will fall as well. So France will be next, and when that happens, the Jews will be rounded up just as they were elsewhere. Iˇll leave for England the moment theyˇre safe, but I canˇt trust that the priest who replaces me will be as...flexible. Many priests are not .〃
Heˇs right. I know from what Amelie has told me that this is what will happen. If I hadnˇt heard it from her lips, I would argue. The Maginot Line still seems impenetrable to me .
¨Thatˇs why I need you to go to England,〃 he says. ¨If things go as they have everywhere else, youˇll be in as much danger as anyone downstairs. Arenˇt you leaving for Calais any day now ?〃
I roll to face him. Iˇm still wildly uncertain how he will react to my news. I want to make sure Iˇm watching him carefully .
¨I ... had something to tell you first. Something I doubt youˇll be pleased by .〃
He stiffens. His hand, resting on my bare hip, tightens and his nostrils flare. ¨Is it Gerard?〃 he demands .
His voice is hard, his jaw locked tight so angry that I laugh miserably in response. ¨No, but you might wish it was when I tell you,〃 I reply. ¨Iˇm pregnant .〃
He stares at me, as if Iˇve just said a word he doesnˇt quite understand. ¨Pregnant?〃 he whispers. His eyes flicker to my stomach, with an expression that might be horror, though Iˇm not positive. ¨ But - 〃
¨But?〃 I repeat. ¨Please donˇt tell me I need to explain the mechanics of it to you .〃
His eyes are suddenly full of moonlight. His hand folds over my stomach, though thereˇs really not much there yet. ¨Our child ?〃
I raise a brow. ¨Youˇre worried it might be Gerardˇs? Or Monsieur Hilliardˇs ?〃
For the first time, I see the start of a smile. Awed, stunned, but still a smile. Heˇs never looked younger than he does at this moment. ¨No.〃 He releases the air he held. ¨Itˇs a miracle .〃
His lips press to my stomach, and then he glances up, smile gone. ¨We didnˇt harm anything just now?〃 he asks. ¨I was...rough. If Iˇd known - 〃
¨I think weˇre fine. The human race wouldnˇt have made it this far if what we just did was dangerous in pregnancy .〃
¨Youˇd still be safest in England,〃 he says, returning to me, pushing the hair back from my face .
¨We all would be,〃 I counter, ¨but I donˇt want to be separated from you again. If youˇre staying here to help these people, then Iˇll stay too .〃
¨I know I should insist you leave,〃 he says with a sigh. ¨But thereˇs a very selfish part of me that doesnˇt want you to .〃
¨Itˇs not selfish. I think, perhaps, this was all a part of some greater plan .〃
I have talents Edouard isnˇt aware of, ways I can help him that no one else can. And even if my mother had greater plans for me, I canˇt help but think that if she could see us, sheˇd be smiling right now .
¨The things you and Amelie know ,〃 he begins haltingly. ¨Is that what you mean ?〃
I shake my head. ¨Havenˇt you ever just been certain of something, deep in your bones ?〃
His smile is soft. ¨One thing,〃 he says, pressing his lips to mine .
His kisses distract me, and I allow them to. I can afford to allow them to .
Iˇm finally where Iˇm meant to be .
The End