| Subject: Epilogue (end) |
Author:
Juli
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Date Posted: Wednesday, November 23, 11:39:16pm
In reply to:
Juli
's message, "Angelita" on Wednesday, November 23, 10:02:58pm
Epilogue
The following Christmas
Nikita and Michael sat by the fire at Michael’s father’s house singing carols and watching the children playing with their new toys. Édouard was now toddling about the room, babbling to anyone who would listen. Marie was pregnant with her second child due the following spring.
As the wine and the wonderful Christmas spirit washed over her, Nikita remembered back to the previous year when they had first arrived in Marseille.
After Michael had informed his father that he would indeed abide by his wishes to take over control of the company, Michael and Nikita had returned to New York. Nikita had told her father of what had happened, and although he wasn’t happy about it, Nick resigned himself to the fact that he really had no say in Nikita’s life. He warned her to visit frequently and then gave them his blessing.
Walter returned to Australia, where the next summer, Michael and Nikita had visited for several weeks. While they were there, Nikita played matchmaker between her uncle and his neighbor, a widow named Belinda. Nikita smiled remembering the last letter she had received saying that Belinda had moved into Walter’s house.
In September, they had returned to France, and had moved into the home they had found overlooking the sea south of Marseille. On their first night in their new home, Michael had proposed to her and she had tearfully accepted.
Their wedding had made all the tabloids and popular magazine covers. They were married in France with all of Michael’s family, Nick Wirth, and Walter in attendance. Nikita’s father had walked her down the aisle in an ancient catholic church in Marseille with hundreds of photographers jostling each other outside.
After the rush of publicity surrounding their wedding and honeymoon, the news media had found other more exciting targets and had, for the most part, left Michael and Nikita alone.
Jean-Luc had announced his retirement planned for the year end, and was settling down happily to the role of grand-père to Éduoard, Charles, and Amélie. Every time he saw Nikita, he suggested that three and a half grandchildren was not enough.
Nikita was learning French, being constantly tutored by her niece and nephews; but knowing Spanish had made the task somewhat easier.
She was brought back to the present when Éduoard climbed into her lap and snuggled up against her, putting one thumb in his mouth and twirling a lock of her long hair around his other fingers. She hugged the baby tightly and smiled at her husband.
She shook her head in amazement, wondering how different her life would have been if Michael had not come looking for her. They had made a home in the south of France – a place she hadn’t even known existed before he had stepped into her jungle. And now, holding a soft warm baby in her lap, Nikita closed her eyes in satisfaction, and thanked her mother and whatever fates had delivered her and Michael to the same place a thousand miles away to find the bliss they had made together.
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