Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Eighteen months later

Evangeline nestled herself deeper into the mountain of pillows at her back and with her free hand arranged the bed covers to ward off any chill. Firelight from the hearth bathed the room in orange and deep shadow, but the thin, gray light of dawn lining the draperies at the window foretold a cold winter morning. Once settled, she rested her head back and gave a content, albeit exhausted, sigh.

The latch clicked and the door opened a crack. A moment later, Basil's face appeared. "E?"

"Come in. Do not be shy," she said.

Hesitant, he entered the room and walked over to the bed on tentative feet, as if he might break something if he tread too hard.

She gave him an encouraging smile and adjusted the bundle in her arms, angling it so that he might see. "Come and meet Elizabeth. "

He perched himself on the edge of the bed next to her, his face full of fearful wonder as he looked at the red, puckered face of their sleeping daughter. "E," he whispered through a chuckle. "What have I done?"

"Do you really need reminding?" she asked quizzically. "Would you like to hold her? Go on."

She leaned forward and offered the swaddled baby, directing Basil, who looked more like he was handling a live rocket instead of a newborn infant, until he had her safe in the crook of his elbow. He was stiff as a board, but time and practice would soften his frame. Evangeline would ensure he had plenty of practice. "Isn't she perfect?"

He nodded. "I think it will be a job making her laugh, though. She looks too serious, even in sleep."

"Give her a chance to recover. She has had quite a time of it the last few hours."

"So have you." He reached over and laid a hand on her leg. "And you are in one piece. Not only in one piece, but smiling and happy after such travail. So many things could have gone wrong. I do not understand it. How do you do it? I am in complete awe."

She grunted gently and shrugged. She had wondered the same thing over the years, child after child. She had only come up with one answer. "It is what mothers do. We love, and this," she swept an arm over her tired frame, "is love. Though, I must say, I am not as young as I used to be."

"You are incredible," he said. His gaze returned to little Elizabeth in his arms. "You did not have to, darling, but I am glad you did."

After their marriage, and even before, adding more children to the family had been discussed extensively between them. It was not until nature took matters into its own hands, despite their care, that a decision was finally made for them. She had been overjoyed that Basil would be a father. He had been nearly sick to his stomach.

Once the initial shock had passed, however, he looked on the approaching event with anticipation, and now here he was, holding his own child. As she watched, her eyes drooping from her night's work, Evangeline made a little prophecy of her own, not unlike Basil had the day he had visited her all those years ago.

He would be the first to make their daughter smile, make her laugh, dance with her, teach her to swim, show her what it meant to be generous and compassionate to her fellow man.

Show her how to love life.

For Evangeline, life was complete.

"Mark my words," she murmured.

"What was that, love?" Basil asked.

"Nothing. Never mind." She sighed. "Everything is perfect."