57. Ryan & Kayla

Chapter 57

Ryan & Kayla

Twenty-Eight Winters Ago / Age Seven Months

The mountain is aglow with twinkling lights, but from the kitchen window of her alpine chalet, Juliette is only looking for two. All this curtain twitching, nosey business makes Celine laugh.

“They’ll be here when they’re here,” she calls through from the living room, but Juliette waves her hand over her shoulder, dismissing her oldest friend.

In the distance, headlights wind their way up the hill, and Juliette holds her breath. Will they veer left towards the new ski-in, ski-out hotel on the outskirts of town? Or will they stay the course and head for the road that leads to her door?

She watches and waits, then bangs on the countertop, letting the curtain fall back into place. “It’s them, they’re coming!”

“Shhh!” Celine scolds. “There’s no need for such noise.”

Juliette throws the wooden door open wide, and races down the front steps without a care for icy patches or her safety.

When the car pulls into her driveway, a tall man with a bouffant head of dark hair steps out to greet her.

“Hi, Mum,” he says, stretching his arms out to welcome her embrace. “It’s good to see you.”

“Yes, yes, good to see you too,” she says, patting his chest and pushing him away. “Now give me the baby before my time on this earth is over. We were expecting you an hour ago. ”

His wife, Cheryl, appears from the other side of the car. “We got stuck behind a gritter for miles, I’m afraid.”

Juliette yanks open the rear door, unclips the car seat, and lifts the sleepy boy into her arms. She nuzzles her face into his neck, inhales deeply, and looks to the sky with the happiest of tears in her eyes. Above her, nothing but stars.

She has met her grandson once before, when he was brand new in this world, all wrinkly and pink. Now, six months later, his cheeks are full, his hair is growing, and he sleeps without a troubled thought.

“Take him in before he catches a chill,” Mark says. “I’ll grab the bags.”

Juliette is already half-way up the steps, filling the boy's head with promises of knitted bonnets and warm socks. In the entryway, she slips out of her boots and into the felted slippers that have trodden every inch of this house.

She hurries through to the living room, to where Celine waits on the sofa by the fire, her own granddaughter sleeping soundly in her arms. Juliette settles in beside her and they scoot closer together. It’s the enviable intimacy of old friends who’ve shared a lifetime of memories, but never a moment like this one.

They adjust their holding positions until the two sleeping babes lay side by side on their laps. Juliette strokes the boy’s fine tufts of hair, softly humming a French song her own grandmother sang to her.

The boy stirs, clenching and unclenching his tiny fists. The girl twists her head away then back again. They open their eyes, blinking, then smiling at the unfamiliar face in front of them.

“Kayla, this is my grandson, Ryan,” Juliette whispers. “Ryan, this Kayla, the sweetest girl you could ever meet. You two are going to have the best adventures together. I know it.”

THE END