“It’s no problem.” An idea comes to me. “Hey, let me show you the grotto while we’re close by.” He still hasn’t seen it.
We cross the road, hand in hand. There’s a red ribbon stretched across the entrance which I lift up for Étienne to step under. I’m anxious about his response. I really want him to like it.
The second of our yellow neon light fixtures hangs down from the ceiling in a golden halo and an abundance of realistic fake ferns hug the cave walls, lit from behind with tiny fairy lights. We decided against hiring an acoustic artist—the water that spills from the fixed spout provides more than enough ambient noise—but we did go for mist. I really wanted to create a magical experience that people of all ages would remember.
I glance at Étienne and see him smiling as he looks around, his eyes landing on the back wall. His mother’s star Sainte Églantine has been re-created as a giant mosaic and she’s stunning: auburn curls cascading down to her waist and her head topped with a crown of yellow flowers. Green vines entwined with blue birds and pink roses form a decorative circle behind her, and her pale yellow dress spills to the ground behind the basin. We’ve chosen teeny-tiny tiles that have a faint iridescent look about them so her blue eyes seem to sparkle in the lights as we approach.
“Too much like Disneyland?” I ask timidly.
Étienne shakes his head. “It’s beautiful.”
“It is alittlelike Disneyland,” I say with a grin.
He shrugs and smiles. “In a good way.”
“I’m so glad you like it. I’ve been nervous to show you.”
“Nervous? You? About me?” he teases, tugging me toward him. He presses two fingers to my pulse point and stares down at me, his eyes dark in the low light.
I reach up and do the same to him.
“Mon coeur bat pour toi,”he whispers.My heart beats for you.
“I love you too,” I reply.
We’re on theother side of the river, in the parkland. Étienne is huddled in a group with Jackson, Dion, Raphaël, and Charles and they’re all laughing about something; Lise is taking pictures of the pavilion all lit up, having just come from the grotto where locals are filling bottles of Eau de Sainte Églantine; and Mellie and Albert are standing with a group of factory workers, talking enthusiastically. I stare at the two old friends who have never been more than friends and feel a surge of love for them, and then my attention catches on a petite blond woman walking across the bridge in our direction.
My heart explodes.
“Mum,” I breathe.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Étienne’s head turn toward mine as I set off at a sprint.
“Mum!” I shout.
Her face breaks into a smile at the sight of me, and then she’s opening up her arms and I’m flying into them, clutching her fiercely.
“You’rehere!” I say with astonishment, jerking backward as it sinks in.
“I spoke to Mellie a couple of days ago. She told me about all this.” She releases me as she looks around. “I didn’t want to miss it. Plus, I thought it was probably about time I had a holiday and came to see you both.”
“I’m so glad you made it.” I fold my arms across my chest in an attempt to contain myself. One hug is probably her limit.
I glance to my left and see that Étienne has wandered over,but he’s hanging back with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his shorts, not sure if he should interrupt.
“There’s someone I want you to meet,” I say to my mum as I beckon him over.
“Ooh, is this the love of your life?” she asks quietly as he approaches.
I smile to myself, knowing that I’ll be introducing her to Jackson later.
“Yes, he is,” I reply. “Mum, this is Étienne.”
We have a lot to catch upon.
Epilogue
Six and a half years later…
