Epilogue

Epilogue

COME RAIN OR COME SHINE

Remy’s phone rang.

We both immediately woke, if not fresh, certainly alert, even though that night we’d tested what our fifty-something bodies could do in my big tub, and I was pleased to say we’d bested that challenge splendidly.

But when we were done, we’d fallen into bed, exhausted.

Remy had moved back into our old place because he hadn’t delayed in drafting plans for what we were going to do to our new place. Work began two weeks ago, which was only a week after I’d told him I wanted to move in.

Normally, neither of us kept our phones by the bed.

Lately, Remy was keeping his phone by the bed.

“Dad,” he answered, and I could tell he was trying to keep the sleep out of his tone, but he didn’t quite succeed.

My heart sank and I looked at the time.

It was five in the morning.

I suspected Guillaume hadn’t failed to calculate the time change.

Instead, I suspected he’d waited as long as he could to give us as much sleep as he could before he called.

“We’re coming,” Remy said, paused, then more firmly stated, “On s’en vient, Papa.”

I threw back the covers and got out of bed.

I was washing my hands after using the bathroom when Remy was off the phone and coming toward me.

“I’ll go wake Yves,” he said.

“I’ll call Manon.”

He nodded. “When I’m done with Yves, I’ll call Sah.”

I nodded.

And while I talked with my daughter, I pulled out my husband’s and my luggage.

* * *

I sat in the waiting room with my children.

I supposed it wasn’t a surprise she refused to see them, considering she hadn’t refused to see me, and she looked like hell.

She wanted me in first, without Remy, and I wasn’t certain why, even now, because she’d looked at me, reached out a hand, I took it, she squeezed weakly and said, “Thank you for coming,” like I was in a receiving line.

She’d then let me go, turned to Melly, who was in the room with us, along with Guillaume, and she said, “Help me with my lipstick, cher.”

When Melly moved to do as asked, her attention went to Guillaume.

“I want my son.”

And I was dismissed.

Remy was now in there with Guillaume. Melly had gone to get coffees.

I was worried sick, literally nauseous, wondering what was happening in that room.

Manon sat close to my side, her head to my shoulder. We were holding hands.

Yves was sprawled in a chair, legs stretched out, ankles crossed, eyes on Sah, who was pacing.

Remy walked in.

When he did, we all perked up.

Then, without a word, seeing the look on his face, we all moved and took him in our arms.

* * *

“She was riddled with it when we were here.”

Remy was whispering in the dark.

“Yes,” I whispered in return.

“Will of steel to hide the pain she was in.”

“Yes.”

We were face to face, body to body, snug in each other’s arms.

“She died with perfect lipstick.”

I didn’t exactly know why, but that made me smile.

“Yes.”

“He’s struggling. He’s still pissed at her with what she did to me. Feeling guilt about what he did to her, about not knowing what had happened to me. Probably feeling relief that it’s finally over, not only her pain, also the madness of their lives, then feeling guilt about that too. But he loved her.”

That was for certain.

“Yes. He very much loved her.”

Remy said no more.

I gave it some time, then I squeezed him and asked, “What are you feeling?”

“I’m glad her pain is gone.”

I waited, but that was all he said.

I closed my eyes tight, agonized that was all he felt at his mother’s death.

I opened them and asked, “What did she say when you were in there?”

“She told me I was handsome.”

I waited again, but that apparently was it.

“That’s it?” I prompted.

“And she asked Dad and me to hold her hands. We held her hands. She looked at me. She looked at Dad. She closed her eyes. And after a while, the nurse said she was gone.”

Oh God.

“I felt it, though,” he said softly. “When it happened. Before the nurse told us, I knew. You can feel it, baby. When life ends.”

I pushed closer.

Remy stroked my back.

“Sleep, Wynnie.”

“Okay, my love.”

I agreed, but I didn’t sleep.

Neither did he.

Though eventually I did.

But he did not.

* * *

It happened after the funeral.

Incidentally, at said funeral, Manon and I both wore big hats.

And red lipstick.

We were back at the house, the mass of people (Colette would have been gratified) who’d come after the internment were slowly fading away. Remy was playing the piano and had been for some time. A stroke of genius, because he could nod to people, they could murmur their condolences, but for the most part, he was left alone to lose his thoughts in the notes.

Melly found me and asked for a moment of privacy.

I gave it to her.

When I did, she gave me a wide, flat, black velvet box. No adornment. No wrapping.

“She said it would speak for itself,” Melly told me.

Then she left.

I lifted the top of the box.

A thick cream envelope fell out, drifting to the floor.

But I was struck by what was inside, on a bed of stark black silk, an exquisite diamond necklace made of round, pear and marquise diamonds in a timeless design.

I’d seen that necklace before in a photo.

I bent to retrieve the envelope, set the box aside, and opened it, sliding the card from within.

The handwriting was cramped and wavy.

Pained.

And it said:

Wyn,

I wore this at my wedding.

I wish to invite you to wear it to yours.

Thank you for loving him in a way I did not.

Yours, Colette

I didn’t want to share it with Remy.

But I needed to share it with Remy.

So once we had our own privacy, I did.

He stared at the note a long time.

And then finally, held safe in my arms, my husband shed tears for his dead mother.

* * *

I placed the frame among the others on the piano.

There were many.

Since all the kids played as well, Remy had bought his own grand for his house and left this one here for them to use, which meant now we had two.

I didn’t play, they both looked the same to me, so I’d let him pick which one he used when we combined houses.

The other one, we could put in storage and give to whichever kid settled in a place they could take it if they wanted.

“Okay?” I asked, looking at my husband.

Remy was watching me.

When I asked my question, he came forward and moved the frame holding the photo of his parents, delighted with their newborn son, from where I’d buried it among candid rugby shots, Christmas buffoonery and fun on my parents’ farm.

He put it pride of place, on the outside.

The first one you’d see.

“Just for a while, baby,” he murmured. “When it hurts less, we’ll move it.”

“It can be there forever, if that’s what you want,” I told him.

He was staring down at the picture.

“I wish that happiness could have followed them for the next fifty-four years,” he said, his voice faraway.

And he meant it for them, not what that would mean for him, but that was what he would have wanted for his parents.

“Well, it didn’t,” I replied gently. “But that little boy felt their love and happiness enough in that moment, he recreated it, gave it to another family, and so far, they’ve had it for decades, and they treasure it. So all was not lost.”

He looked down at me, his expression not faraway.

He was lost in unhappy memories.

But that didn’t mean I missed the love shining there for me.

This time, I knew exactly what my Remy needed.

“Play,” I whispered.

He bent and touched his mouth to mine.

Then he sat at the piano bench.

I went to the kitchen and poured us each a glass of red. I grabbed my book.

I returned to him, set his glass on the piano, curled into the couch, opened my book, but I didn’t read.

Remy played “Nuvole Bianche.”

I sat with him, and silently, for all he’d never had, for all Guillaume and Colette let slip through their fingers, I wept.

* * *

Guillaume was as I’d never seen him before.

Nervous.

It was cute.

However, she was an absolute mess.

That was, she was until Manon cried, “Oh my God! I love your top.” Then rushed her, grabbed both her hands, leaned in and kissed her cheek, popping back to say, “Hey, I’m Manon, and I’m so glad to meet you.”

Then Sabre drawled, “Seriously, the men in this family have good taste in women. This bodes well for me.”

To which Manon added, “And the women have good taste in men, so you’re covered too, Yves.”

She’d then latched on to Benji, who I quite liked, but Remy detested.

Sabre performed his greetings. Yves did too. Theo and Benji were introduced.

The nerves came back but quickly melted away when Remy went in and gave out hugs.

I played cleanup, smiled into their eyes, then looked around and asked, “Right, who wants sundaes?”

At my words, Estelle dropped her head to hide her very pretty face at the same time she dug into her purse for a hankie.

“Come on, Miss Estelle, you have to come to my room,” Manon demanded. “That’s where Mom’s hiding her wedding gown. You have to see it. It’s divine. Dad and the boys can make the sundaes while we oo and ah over it.”

And with that, Estelle was claimed, dragged to Manon’s room, and I trailed behind, leaving the men to make the sundaes.

* * *

The first time, we danced to “Something” by the Beatles.

Remy had insisted.

This time, we danced to “Come Rain or Come Shine” by Ray Charles.

Because again, Remy insisted.

The drifting white feathers that adorned my skirt flirted with the black of his tuxedo trousers.

The diamonds at my throat twinkled in the light.

I couldn’t say I was a great dancer, but Remy was an excellent lead.

His mother taught him that.

In his arms, on that dance floor, with everyone we loved looking on, especially our children, if you’d asked me three years ago if it would have been worth what we went through to get to that moment, I would have said, hell no.

I still wasn’t sure living those years without the man in my arms was a pain I’d ever be happy to have experienced.

I would say that every couple should have another wedding ceremony decades down the line.

The dress. The cake. The dancing.

The vows.

The beauty.

All of it.

Have it again at a time when you could appreciate it. When you knew how much work it would be, and how much joy there would be, and how many fights were going to happen, and how much laughter you’d share, and how crucial it was to have someone at your side when times got tough, and how deep love had the capacity to grow, and how never ending that capacity was.

I loved weddings.

I’d never been so happy as I’d been on my first wedding day, and no matter what anyone thought, that included the exquisite joy I felt on the birth of all three of my children.

Except for that day.

Except for right then.

In that moment.

With Remy.

I was the happiest I’d ever been.

Because we had our life, our kids, our memories, each other, and the capacity for the depth of our love to grow.

Never ending.

Then it happened.

We danced by where Guillaume and Estelle were sitting, both watching us with rapt attention, though Guillaume’s was more rapt.

Yes, she’d come to Phoenix in order to be in attendance.

Remy had insisted.

And as we danced, I heard her say to Guillaume, “My God, honey. They’re perfect together.”

I smiled at my husband.

His return was a smirk.

And I knew one thing for certain in this crazy world.

She was right.

The End