Epilogue
Five Years Later.
Josephine. Shari. Eleanor. Ayana.
I repeat their names in my head as I nervously pack my wardrobe, as it’s the only way I can keep my composure. The pressure of not letting down my students keeps me calm and at ease.
We’re about to embark on the first expedition from the post-graduate program I created for female students, hoping that I—and the other educators—will help build them up to thrive in academia.
I want to help other women like me, who want more out of life and deserve a chance to enhance their knowledge and skills in a field they are passionate about. I’m fortunate to have Amina, Grandad, and Henry to support me in my journey.
I know it’s rare to come by such friends and mentors in one’s academic career. It’s one of the many things I feel lucky about in my life, which is why I created my own program at Oxford—in hopes to shove it to misogyny and be the helping hand these women need.
Despite the number of times I’ve second-guessed myself, I know we will not fail these women, as I ensured to include educators with various backgrounds to teach them.
With myself, Amina, Henry, an esteemed mathematician, and art historian—these women will be highly qualified in whichever field they decide to conquer.
Every now and then, I think about the artifacts, knowing I made the right decision years ago to relinquish my ownership of them and place them in their rightful homes.
With the knife secure in a museum in Constantinople, the civic crown residing in a university at Olympia, and the amulet displayed in a library in Cairo, I know Athena would be proud that I shared the artifacts for all of the world to see and not make them pieces of my own personal collection.
As the grandfather clock chimes in the distance, I push aside my memories as I’m reminded that we only have two hours left until we need to leave. I hear both heavy and light footsteps running outside the bedroom door, but I tune them out.
If I can focus on getting this done, then I can address the commotion occurring outside.
With everything packed for our two-month trip, I shut the two large chests and drag them across the room, beside the high stack of packed suitcases.
For the third time, I count and double-check the names on each piece of luggage, ensuring everyone is accounted for.
The bedroom door quickly opens and shuts behind me. Henry plops himself onto the bed with an exhausted sigh and grins. He looks at the ceiling, trying to catch his breath.
“Let me guess…it’s your turn to hide?” I whisper, leaning over the bed to run my fingers through his messy hair.
We hear light footsteps patter on the hardwood floor, accompanied by cheery screams echoing throughout the house. A mischievous smile forms on my face. I glance at the door and back at Henry.
“Don’t you dare rat out my hiding spot, Dr. Ashford,” Henry warns, his eyes teasing.
I know he’s been entertaining the children for the last hour as I finished packing for the family. The least I can do is be an accomplice by harboring his hiding spot, giving him his moment of reprieve. Playing hide and seek with an energetic three-year-old twin is utterly exhausting.
I lay on the bed beside him, our bodies facing each other. Taking his face in my hands, I bring him closer and give him a long kiss that will always take his breath away.
“Your secret is safe with me, Dr. Ashford,” I whisper, smiling as our faces are inches apart.
We’ve been married for five years, and yet every touch and kiss with him is like I'm falling in love for the first time.
Henry wraps his arms around me and nestles into my body, bringing me into something much more intimate than an embrace.
My arms wrap tightly around his body, as I bury my face into his curly hair.
We remain like this, safe in each other’s arms. There is never a moment when I’m not grateful for the life we have together.
“I still can’t believe this is happening,” I murmur into his hair. “I only wish that Grandad were here to come along with us. He was so elated when they approved the program.”
Henry gives my torso a light squeeze, then tilts his head up, caressing the side of my face.
“He’s still here with us, love. His passion burns inside you.
His curiosity runs in me. His intelligence and knack for adventure are in our Will and Evie.
Rest assured, no matter where you look, he will always be here with us. ”
I look into his loving eyes and know he is telling the truth. Pieces of Grandad are in all of us, much more than we think. And one day soon, the pain of his passing will ease into a soft prick of sadness.
Henry curls back into me, resuming our nestled state of comfort, until we hear a loud knock at the door.
Picking his head up, we glance at each other, wondering who it could be, as the movers aren’t supposed to arrive for another hour to transport our luggage to the docks of Dover.
I follow Henry as we make our way to the landing, and two small bodies run and crash into Henry as we emerge.
“We found you, Daddy!” Evie says, giggling as Henry plants a kiss on her head.
Henry kneels in front of the children. “You both didn’t knock on a door to lure me out of my hiding spot. Now, did you?”
His gaze shifts between their faces, a method he uses that doesn’t always work to coax the truth from them.
They both shake their heads innocently.
We hear another knock, this time coming directly from the front door.
Henry leads the way down the stairs, as I hold onto the children’s hands, following him.
We stand in the entry as Henry answers the door.
Will and Evie each clutch onto one of my legs, not out of fright but out of excitement.
I still don’t know where they got their fearlessness from.
I struggle to decipher who it is, as I can only hear murmurs from the other side of the door.
Henry leans out of frame, possibly to grab something, then comes back into view.
“Thank you. Take care,” he says, then closes the front door.
An extravagant off-white envelope is in his grasp. Henry raises it, flashing the front and back toward me. The red seal of the King shines bright as day, with my name addressed on it.
Henry places the envelope in my hand, and I glance at it with astonishment and hesitation.
What could the King of the United Kingdom possibly need to write to me about?
“What is it, Mummy?” Will asks.
Both twins simultaneously pull on my arms to get a closer look.
“Looks fancy,” Evie says with a grin. “Must be important.”
Indeed, it is, Evie.
Carefully, I break the seal and take out the letter. Unable to contain my apprehension, I quickly read through it, needing to know what it’s for. Once I reach his signature, I glance at Henry, shocked.
“The king is honoring me with a damehood.” I hand over the letter for him to read it himself.
“Look at that…” he mutters with a grin. “‘For your act of selflessness to protect our nation, and your significant contributions in academia by proving the existence of the Olympian deities.’”
Henry lifts me in the air, spinning me in circles. The kids run around with glee despite not knowing what we’re celebrating.
Henry places me back down and pecks my lips. “Congratulations, love. Or shall I say, Dame Clara Ashford?”
A grin rises on my face as I watch my family joyously celebrate my new title, knowing that if it weren’t for that one accidental sacrifice and the scheming from a certain goddess, none of this would have come to be.
But rest assured, this isn’t the end of my story. In fact, it has only just begun.