Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 112287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
She’d half expected him to turn up in somber black despite what they’d talked about, but her father wore beige linen pants and a loose white linen shirt.
Around his wrist was a bracelet created of multihued threads.
Elena’s throat threatened to close. She hadn’t known he’d kept any of Belle’s bracelets. Neither had she known that he’d kept the shirt that Marguerite had hand-stitched. Ari was there, too—in the small leather-bound book he had tucked into the pocket of his shirt. The last gift Ari had ever given him.
When he reached out a hand, she didn’t hesitate to take it.
Gwendolyn, who’d gone to her and Jeffrey’s car to fetch more flowers, came over to kiss Elena on the cheek and greet Raphael. She still wasn’t comfortable with the enormous pressure of his power, her eyes never quite meeting his, but she was genuine in her warmth.
As for Jeffrey and Raphael, they gave each other polite nods. Raphael loved her too much to forgive Jeffrey for the hurts he’d caused her, but her archangel had also accepted that Elena needed to heal the fractures between her and her father.
“If you wish me to welcome him to the Tower one day,” he’d told her, “I’ll do it without hesitation. As you welcome my mother, no matter if you worry that she will hurt me once more. He is your father. And unlike my mother, he is mortal.”
Her archangel understood what that meant, had witnessed her anguish at the racing clock firsthand.
“There comes Beth with your grandparents.” Jeffrey nodded down the track.
A dusty people mover stopped beside Jeffrey and Gwendolyn’s equally dusty BMW sedan. Getting out, Harry jogged around to open Beth’s door—who emerged with the urn held carefully in her arms. That urn carried the remains of Marguerite and her two daughters. They’d made the decision that this was about family. None of the three would wish to be separated.
Majda, as petite as the daughter she’d birthed but never got to watch grow into adulthood, her skin a darker gold than Elena’s, emerged from the back seat after Jean-Baptiste. Marguerite’s father had eyes of silver-blue, and those eyes were trained on Majda as he took her hand with quiet words no one else could hear.
Their faces were worn, their grief a thing they’d carry forever.
But instead of walking over, Majda held out a hand and two younger figures emerged to join the group.
Maggie and Laurent.
“Hi, Auntie Ellie,” Maggie said after running over for a hug.
Elena’s nephew was right behind her.
“Hi, sweetie.” Elena kissed the top of her head, then did the same for Laurent—who was already almost the same height as his older sister. “What are you two doing here?”
“We wanted to be here,” Maggie said. “For Mama and for my grandma and aunts we never knew.”
“Mama told us about them,” Laurent said. “She says I remind her of Belle. She was a rebel like me.” He grinned.
His innocent joy paired with Maggie’s sweet empathy, it made this day a touch easier. “I’m glad you came.”
A motorcycle sounded in the distance, followed by another vehicle.
She wasn’t surprised when Eve swung off that motorcycle after parking it, or when Amy emerged from the vehicle. They were family. Even if they hadn’t known Marguerite, Belle, or Ari, they knew Elena and Beth and Jeffrey.
It was for them that they’d come.
The person who’d driven in behind Amy, however, had come only for Elena: Sara. Deacon got out with her.
And Zoe, unfolding those long legs from the back seat.
Her best friend gave her a hug, as did Zoe and Deacon, then they stepped back to stand beside Gwendolyn, Eve, Amy, Maggie, Laurent, Harry, and Raphael. Elena wasn’t surprised to see Zoe lean a little into Raphael after ending up next to him.
Her archangel put his arm around her goddaughter, his eyes, that pure, painful blue, meeting Elena’s over Zoe’s curls. You can do this, hbeebti. His love surrounded her, phantom wings enclosing her in silken warmth.
Elena swallowed, took a deep breath, then squeezed her father’s hand. “It’s time, Papa.”
The two of them, Beth, and their grandparents walked to the lip of the cliff. Elena had already checked the wind direction and speed, ensured it would carry the ashes out into the ocean, and from there, to whatever wild vistas existed around the world.
Now, Jeffrey took the urn from Beth, while she took charge of his cane.
“Bye, Mama,” Beth murmured. “Bye, Big Sis One and Big Sis Two.” Her voice hitched, but she carried on. “I wish I’d had longer with you—but I’ll never forget you. I’ve told my son and daughter all about you.
“Maggie’s like you, Mama, loves to sew and bake. One day, I think she’ll be the heart of a happy family, as you were. As for my sweet Laurent, he’s a handful, and that’s putting it lightly. I can see you laughing with me over his shenanigans.”