Epilogue

The cherry blossoms were the first sign that winter was well and truly over. The long line of trees at the park's entrance, just like the trees in our backyard, were losing white and pink petals which were swirling away in all four directions. Only a few clouds marred the sky, and I enjoyed the light breeze on my cheeks. It smelled like spring. And new possibilities.

The old woman next to me coughed slightly but smiled when one of the wayward blossoms landed on her lap. "It's nice outside today."

I nodded assent and put both hands behind my head. While I stretched, my eyes traced the path of the colourful specks. They made me remember. Something that I allowed myself to do more and more often now.

Whenever the cherry blossoms fell, my mother had sat with me on the grass in our backyard. To the sound of rustling branches, she'd watched them fly … sometimes, I'd thought almost with envy, as if she wished to be one of them. Maybe she did. Or, maybe, she just desperately wanted to change right along with the seasons but hadn't known how. I would never know, of course, but that's what I would like to think. That she had wanted to change and that she would have had the strength to leave my father, eventually, because she loved herself—and me—enough.

I always thought that those days when the cherry blossoms fell were when my mother had been most at peace. I could almost see her now, sitting cross-legged under the weeping willow in this park and smiling brightly.

That I could think about her and feel warmth and not guilt or regret was something I was still getting used to. It wasn't like the guilt over her death was suddenly gone either, but I was beginning to come to terms with it. After Charlie and I visited the cemetery, we continued to talk about the past.

It was difficult, but it helped. Seeing things from a different perspective enabled me to distance myself from past events—even from the hatred for my father. I'd started to allow myself to believe that I wasn't at fault for what had happened. It had taken me fifteen years, but the past was finally releasing its crushing hold on me.

I picked up one petal and blew it from my fingertip as if to set free the thoughts as well. "It almost makes me want to race home and get my easel."

The old lady chuckled. "Well, I certainly wouldn't stop you. All of my friends are rather envious of that painting you gave me."

My mouth curved into a smile.

I've come a long way, Harry. I hope somewhere, somehow, you can see it.

"I don't have the time to paint, sadly. Today's a big day. I'll bring the easel next time. Maybe do another painting of the lake."

"That sounds lovely."

"You know, I might not come alone."

The grooves on the old face deepened when she smiled. "That nice young woman you've been telling me about? About time."

Yes, about time.

"She's coming back from Paris tomorrow. This time she'll stay a couple weeks."

I couldn't wait. It had been a crazy last few months, with Emmanuelle's relocation to France, along with physical therapy and still staying connected. Somehow, we'd managed. We talked on the phone almost every day. Still, time had passed only slowly, and I missed her terribly. I missed her smile and the sound of her rumbling laugh, and the feel of her body against mine when I woke up.

"That's lovely, dear." She cleared her throat. "Wasn't there somewhere you needed to be, though?"

I glanced at my watch. "You are absolutely right."

Remi was already waiting for me in the full carpark in front of the landscaping company. He kissed my cheeks. "You're late!" he exclaimed. "I almost thought you wouldn't show."

Hooking an arm through one of mine, he started pulling me toward the gardens. "Casey has been a tyrant. It's like she's the drill sergeant and Vinnie, Charlie, and I are her good little soldiers. I think the only reason she doesn't boss your grandfather around is because Martha already does it, and she dares not interfere."

"I'm sure you can boss with the best of them, Remi."

He laid a hand against his chest. "Nooo, me? I am but a victim of circumstance."

"Right. Of course."

"Anyways, I was very happy to receive the invitation. It's a shame that Elle couldn't make it."

I sighed. "Yeah, I know."

"Especially because you're actually filling out these slacks again."

"I've been resolved to regain all the weight I lost … and then some."

He laughed and shook his head. "You look great, Sam. I completely understand why my sister is so enamoured with you."

I ducked my head, and he laughed louder.

The gardens were in full bloom, flowers in all colours framing my grandmother's tall statues, and the air was slightly salty from the ocean water that the wind carried with it.

We took the cobbled path slithering through the hedges and, left and right, roses burst out of the green, framing the way toward the pavilion. The big white tent stood smack-dab in the middle of the large plot, and people filled the space in front of it. Hale Hale's employees, their families, and our most loyal regulars were mingling around.

Frank's retirement party had blown up far more than I'd expected, but it was Casey who'd volunteered to organise it, so perhaps I shouldn't be surprised.

"It's quite a turnout," Remi remarked, and suddenly there was a wicked glint in his eye.

"What's with that face?" I asked suspiciously.

Slender hands wrapped around me from behind. I would have recognised those hands anywhere.

Happiness bubbled up inside, and exasperation that she hadn't told me she'd be early, and I whipped around to embrace her. The dark-haired woman in my arms chuckled at the tightness of my hug and ran her hands over my back.

"Well, that's a greeting I could certainly get used to."

When I released her again, one corner of her mouth was curled up, and her eyes were laughing. My finger traced the curve of her mouth with a fingertip, heart singing at the love there, and she kept me from stepping away by hooking her thumbs through my belt loops.

"Hey, you," she said softly.

"Hey, you," I managed to reply before a warm mouth and firm lips descended, and my thoughts became scrambled.

"And that's a greeting I could get used to," I told her, breathless, a moment later.

"No reason why you shouldn't, love."

I shook my head, still smiling, and Remi made puking noises, causing her to smack him on the arm.

"Hey," he complained, "after I had to listen to both of you constantly moaning about how much you miss each other, it's seriously a relief you're both within touching distance again. But that doesn't mean I need to be privy to the whole extent of your reunion. Besides, where's the gratitude for helping you organise this surprise so beautifully?"

Emmanuelle rolled her eyes, and her tone was bone-dry. "As long as you're getting on my nerves, there will be no gratitude, brother. I can't believe I even missed your preening face."

"Preening? How about smart, charismatic, helpful, and charm—"

"Who are you describing?" My lover grunted. "Your imaginary friend?"

A wildly gesticulating Casey drew our attention. Behind her and under the wide pavilion, a long row of tables was almost collapsing under the amount of buffet food.

"Are you trying to compensate for something?" I asked her as we got closer.

"Well, they couldn't deliver the trampoline on time, and the fire-breathers were booked out. I had to find some way to make this party memorable." She waggled her eyebrows and tucked a clipboard under her arm.

The party continued, Casey telling a few funny anecdotes about Rambo's most recent escapades, and I was happy to see how well my best friend and Emmanuelle got along. They even began a lively discussion about the upcoming exhibit of Haley Grim, the young artist whose work Casey was about to display. If there had been any misgivings about our previous breakup, it looked like Casey had put them to rest. When someone approached to tell her about a leaking beer keg, she excused herself, dragging a groaning Remi after her.

Emmanuelle chuckled. "I missed this."

"What, does Laurent not provide enough entertainment for you?" I joked. "I should go have a word with the man, if he isn't treating you right."

Emmanuelle's answer was interrupted by Frank, who tapped a cake fork against a wine glass. Silence descended. My grandfather let his gaze wander over the circle of guests. "The last year has been a turbulent one. Happy in some ways and sad in others, but I like to think that both aspects are firm parts of a full life. To everyone who's here today, thank you for having been a part of my life. This company means a lot to me, but the one thing I treasure above all else are the people. You're the ones who made it such a pleasure to be a part of Hale Hale, and in the end, you are also who make it easy for me to finally put down the shovel and kick up my heels."

Frank noisily cleared his throat, and I saw how he was grasping for Martha's hand, who was standing right next to him. "And now do me a favour and try to get rid of all this food!"

Everyone cheered loudly, and I grinned. I was happy that Frank felt comfortable to retire now. It would be good for him, and he'd earned it.

Then I perked up because my grandfather stepped to the side and carefully lifted a big brown box with air holes before walking closer to Casey.

"I wanted to thank you for all your hard work in organising this shindig," the old man said and opened the hatch, holding it towards her. "So you know, I said to myself, ‘Frank, what could I get her that would really make her day?' And then we found this sweet little thing at the local shelter. The workers said that she was one of a kind, so we thought we just really had to pick her for you."

When Casey pulled out a bushy young cat, her expression was priceless. I knew for a fact that she'd sworn not to get another as long as her entitled prince of a devil cat ruled her home. The female cat started fighting Casey's grip as soon as she was out of the box, and I could hear the angry meow even from several metres away.

"That really wasn't necessary," Casey finally said. When my best friend tried to put the cat back into the box, she hissed, and then broke free from her grip with another moody meow. Casey scrambled after her. "Goddammit!"

I snorted with laughter. This sweet little thing looked like it was more than a match for Rambo. Trust Frank to pick the one animal that was another devil incarnate.

Still chuckling, I turned back to Emmanuelle. "That tickled me. Where were we? Ah, yeah. Laurent."

She rolled her eyes. "He's treating me just fine. He loves the new piece I'm working on, too."

"As much as he loves The Flying Kite?"

"Doubtful," she said. "I think that will always be his favourite."

"I'm not surprised." I thought back to the painting, feeling my lips draw into a smile. It meant a lot to me. It always would. It was a joint piece of Emmanuelle and I, and it would always be that. "The way you painted the kite amongst the backdrop of the grey cliffs … and the boy running after it. It's an amazing work of art, Elle."

Her green eyes locked on mine. Something unspoken dwelled within them. She reached out her arm, grasped my hand, and brought it back to her lips to kiss it.

"There is no boy in the picture, Sam. The one running after the kite, that's you."

I stared at her. "Me?"

"Art is what captures the heart." Her smile reached her eyes now, dimpling the left side of her cheek. "It's always been you. Stretching your hand out towards the sky. Wishing for freedom. Wishing for joy. To be rid of the weights on your soul." She kissed my hand again, holding it gently against her cheek. "And I'm so glad that you're working on getting there. Not for me, but for yourself."

So many things went through my head. It had been a long road, and my journey wasn't over. Maybe I'd never stop healing. But she had helped in showing me how strong I was. Made me realise that I could face the hand that life dealt me, even if it was difficult and hard and I wasn't able to see a way forward. Taking a step into the unknown would always be scary, but I knew now that it brought with it the chance to find yourself amongst the rubble and chaos of the past. I could be unashamedly myself.

Like Dalí, like Harry, like Emmanuelle.

"What can I say?" I told her, cupping her face and feeling my soul take flight. "I was inspired."

"So was I," she replied.

She stepped closer, catching my gaze with her green, green eyes. Then she kissed me. One of those soft, soft kisses that made my entire stomach bottom out.

Before I had the chance to get completely lost in it, our moment was disturbed by Casey squeaking, "Get your damn claws out of my Prada blouse, you little pest!"

The End