Camilla had hoped for something grander, the ballroom at the Park Plaza with a string quartet and swags of fragrant white lilies, but she was overruled and had to content herself with a garden ceremony on the grounds of a small estate just outside Boston.
I check the clock. There’s still a little time. Rory is with her mother, getting dressed; Hux has taken Anson off somewhere to handle a boutonniere mishap; and I’m alone with my thoughts for what feels like the first time in weeks.
I’ve learned firsthand what a taxing business planning a wedding can be. Doubly so if one also happens to be designing and overseeing the making of the dress. I was nervous about trusting someone else to handle the sketches, but I was pleased with the way they turned out, and I’m even happier with the finished product—a flared A-line in ivory satin, tea length with a wrapped bodice and tulle underskirt. Not a dress fit for a princess, perhaps, but certainly one fit for a happy ending.
I think of the charm I managed to work into the left side seam. Two weeks with my stiff and achy hands, and not nearly as pretty as I would have liked, but it is done. Under the circumstances, I think La Mère will not deduct points for neatness, though I cannot be so sure about Maman.
She has been on my mind these last few days, her voice in my ear, reminding me of all the Roussels stretching back through time. Cursed in love, or so the story went. We were told from an early age what we were allowed to have—and what we weren’t. Told not to long for what others have, because somewhere along the way, one of us had broken someone else’s rules.
But I’ve come to believe we create our own curses and carry them through life because we’ve been told it’s our lot. We’re taught to relive our mothers’ heartaches, to accept their sufferings as our own, and pass them on to the next generation, again and again, until one of us at long last says no, and the curse is finally broken. Because we’ve discovered a new kind of magick—the kind that comes with choosing for ourselves, with saying I will do something else, be something else, have something else. This was the lesson Maman was trying to teach me the night she slipped away. There are no curses. Only patterns meant to be broken. Dreams to chase. Hearts to hold. Magick to make.
Another glance at the clock. It’s time. I repeat the charm once more for good luck, the words so similar to the ones I composed so many years ago, for another dress.
Over distance, over time,
Whatever trials might come,
May the echoes of these once lost hearts
Be forever joined as one.
My heart is full as I pull on my gloves and pick up the flowers from the box at the foot of the bed. I’m all but floating as I step into the garden. Rory is beaming and absolutely beautiful. She blinks back tears and places a hand on her heart. Beside her, Hux grins like a man who knows he’s hopelessly blessed. And why shouldn’t he, when fate has seen him safely home to the woman he adores and his new practice is set to open next month.
Camilla pushes to her feet, already blotting away tears. Thia signals the musicians, and the first notes of Pachelbel’s “Canon” fill the air. I take a step and then another. And then I see Anson, smiling at the end of the narrow slate path, his eyes locked with mine as I close the distance between us. The man I have loved for forty years, and the only groom I’ve ever wanted.
The music fades as I slip my hand into his. Maman’s voice is suddenly there, like a whisper against my cheek. As long as you keep his beautiful face in your heart, he will never truly be lost. There will always be a way back. And at long last, we have found it. It has taken us decades to get to this place, but that doesn’t matter. Because we know now that neither of us ever really let go. Somewhere, in the most carefully guarded corners of our hearts, we held on.
La fin.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
And now, for the hardest part of writing any book. Saying thank you. Seriously, after the year that was, where do I even begin? With every book, there are people to thank, those who support our vision and hold our hands, dry our tears and keep us fed, but I’m always horrified by the thought that in the heavy fog that always descends at the end of a project, I might leave someone out, and holy smokes, this list is a long one. So here goes . . .
To my incredible agent, Nalini Akolekar, who threw me a lifeline when I was ready to jump ship. Thank you for keeping my head above water and reminding me to breathe. And of course, a huge shout-out to the entire Spencerhill team—you guys seriously rock.
To my editor, the extraordinary Jodi Warshaw, who understands that sometimes life gets in the way and also makes that okay—my gratitude knows no bounds. For your patience, support, enthusiasm, and generosity, so many, many thanks. Ditto for Gabe Dumpit and Danielle Marshall and every single member of the Lake Union / APub team, who are without a doubt the best in the biz.
To my developmental editor, Charlotte Herscher, who pushes me to go that extra mile—and then to go one more after that. Thank you for your eyes, your expertise, your love of story, and for always knowing what I’m trying to say—even when I’m not sure how to say it—and for helping me finally get there.
To the book bloggers, whose love of the written word has been the wind beneath so many writers’ wings this year, including mine, your support and dedication to authors mean everything. Special thanks to Susan “Queenie” Peterson, Kathy Murphy (a.k.a. the Pulpwood Queen), Kate Rock, Annie McDowell, Denise Birt, Linda Zagnon, and Susan Leopold.
To my fabulous tribe at Blue Sky Book Chat: Kerry Anne King, Jane Healey, Patricia Sands, Alison Ragsdale, Marilyn Simon Rothstein, Bette Lee Crosby, Peggy Lampman, Soraya Lane, Lisa Ann Braxton, Lainey Cameron, and Loretta Nyhan, thanks for the fun and the friendship and for your wonderful generosity.
To my wonderful brothers and sisters: Todd, Gina, David, Scott, Nanette, Tom, and Shelly, without whom I would never have made it through 2020. My love always, and more gratitude than you can possibly fathom. I’m pretty sure I offered several of you a kidney. The offer still stands.
To my mom, Patricia Crawford, who has always been and always will be my biggest and loudest cheerleader. Thank you for being someone I could always look up to, for teaching me to work hard every day and to always be kind. I love you.
And finally to Tom: husband, best friend, beta reader, and soul mate. There are simply no words, but then we never did need words.
BOOK CLUB QUESTIONS
Throughout the story, there is significant friction between Rory and Camilla, much of which stems from Camilla’s need to manage her daughter’s life. In what ways, if any, do you feel Rory contributes to the chronic tension between them?
Soline’s mother, Esmée, believes that each of us creates a unique echo in the world and that those echoes are constantly seeking their match—in order to become complete. Do you believe such a thing is possible?
One of the threads running through the book touches on the tendency of daughters to repeat their mothers’ mistakes, especially in relationship matters. Have you or someone you know experienced this in real life? If so, was the pattern eventually recognized and broken?
The theme of chasing one’s dreams figures prominently in the journeys of both Rory and Soline. From an early age, Soline was taught that the work they did was a sacred vocation for which the Roussels had been especially chosen, and Hux once told Rory that the dream of opening an art gallery had her name all over it. Do you believe we are each given a calling in life, a talent or gift that feeds our soul and benefits others?
“Everything happens for a reason” is a commonly used axiom, particularly when events suddenly turn our lives upside down. Throughout the book, Rory’s and Soline’s lives are upended by a series of seeming coincidences, causing them to wonder if some unseen hand might be at work. Do you believe that certain things are meant to be? That some benevolent force is trying to guide us to our highest good? Or is everything random?
Rory tells Soline that she and Camilla push each other’s buttons. Soline understands, but at times she seems to si
de with Camilla, perhaps because she had a similar relationship with her own mother. What parallels did you note in the relationships between Soline and Esmée and Rory and Camilla?
By the end of the book, it seems obvious that Soline has come into Rory’s life for a reason and that the reverse is also true. In the end, each has irrevocably altered the other’s life. Have you ever had someone come into your life, even briefly, who you feel came to teach you a lesson or help you find your path?
On her deathbed, Esmée tells Soline about the father she never knew, a man Esmée loved dearly but sent away out of obedience to her mother. She speaks to her daughter about a grief worse than death—the grief of a life half-lived. How do you think these revelations affect Soline’s choices when Anson suddenly reappears in her life?
One of Esmée’s quotes is about forgiveness. She says forgiveness is the greatest magick of all and that it makes all things new. Do you believe in the power of forgiveness? If so, is it true in all things, or are there certain things that can never be made new?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2015 Lisa Aube
Barbara Davis is the Amazon Charts bestselling author of The Last of the Moon Girls, When Never Comes, Summer at Hideaway Key, The Wishing Tide, The Secrets She Carried, and Love, Alice. She spent more than a decade as an executive in the jewelry business before leaving the corporate world to pursue her lifelong passion for writing. A Jersey girl raised in the South, Barbara now lives in Rochester, New Hampshire, with her husband, Tom. She’s currently working on her next book. Visit her at www.barbaradavis-author.com.
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