Page 76 of Nineteen Seventy-Six

The whole family was home for Christmas, just as it had been the year before. Colleen prayed this Christmas would have all the joy of the last one, but none of the sorrow.

Charles and Cordelia no longer bothered with pretense, but they wore their terse smiles, and their thinly disguised hatred, better than they had in the past. Lisette sat at the table this year, too, a bold move that was as much a message from Charles as it was a courtesy. She looked ready to burst, this tiny woman with her swollen belly, and at the same time, seemed so unsure of what was to come.

Augustus wasn’t himself, and that was even when using his recent demeanor as the baseline. He let Irish Colleen take Ana from his arms without a fuss and hardly said a word at dinner. He smiled at all the right times, but his mind was elsewhere.

If Augustus was distant, Evangeline was more present than she’d been in years. She no longer seemed like a foreigner in her own home, but fresh and alive, in a way Colleen hadn’t seen in years. She looked forward to their sister time later, where she’d learn the cause.

Maureen and her husband didn’t sit together at the table. Edouard pulled a chair out next to Charles, thought better of it, and instead settled next to his mother-in-law, which, Colleen thought, wasn’t much improvement. She’d talk his ear off all night. Maureen focused all her attentions on Olivia, so much so that Colleen could immediately sense something had happened. But then she smiled at Colleen, as if to say, don’t fuss about me. I don’t need much.

Elizabeth and Connor held court at the far end of the table, no longer afraid to pass glances, or even touches, as they helped move the dishes around the table. They were adults now, engaged to be married, and unafraid of their love. Colleen had never seen Lizzy so happy, and the feeling left her as sad as it did content, because, for Elizabeth, there’d never be more than moments of peace. Not with who she was.

For today, though, Elizabeth was happy.

When Colleen shared her news with the family, Noah did it with her. They took turns, alternating the message, and, together, enjoyed the congratulations and affections showered on them. Kellan, who’d joined them, and was welcome at their table for all holidays, forevermore, fed Amelia with one arm and wiped his tears with the other.

They told stories, laughed, and stuffed themselves silly. They were a family, for one night. A family that was connected, not because of change, but choice.

When Colleen went to sleep that night, belly full of food and heart full of love, she said a silent prayer, thanking God for a Christmas she’d want to remember in the days to come.

The next morning, Augustus kissed his daughter on the cheek and wished her a happy first birthday.

“We’re going to see Mama,” he said and bundled her into her winter suit.

The Deschanel tomb was located in Square Three of Lafayette Cemetery No. 1, at the corner of Sixth and Prytania. Even in the winter the large lot was shaded by bowing oaks and steadfast magnolia. The greenspace, lined with benches, was frosted over. It was a cold morning, colder than it had been.

The tomb itself was one of the largest in the cemetery, four times the size of the other large tombs. Names, inscriptions, poems, and psalms covering almost every inch, with the center slab housing the names of the heir and his line. Angels danced around the spires topping the tomb, wearing the soft patina of time.

Our darling Madeline, aged seventeen years.

August Deschanel, he died as he lived, an honorable man.

Ekatherina, beloved wife, doting mother.

Augustus dropped onto a concrete bench. It was freezing, and his pants dampened from the overnight frost, but he hardly noticed. Ana’s pale face flushed in the cold, so he settled her hood around her more neatly. She regarded him with her mother’s eyes.

He looked away from her and focused ahead. He started talking, before he could find reason to convince himself to leave without saying what he had to say.

“Ekatherina, I’m sorry this is the first time I’ve been here since the service. I tried to come, for Ana, just as I’ve done everything else for her, but somewhere, deep down, I knew that when I did come see you, it would have to be for me.”

Augustus bowed over his knees. “I’ve had so much anger since you left us. It’s built up inside of me and I tried to turn it into something productive, God knows. I tried to reverse it and give all my energy to raising our daughter, but I hardly remember anything from her first year because I spent it focused more on the past than the future.”

Tears pricked his eyes. Ana cooed in her stroller, but if he looked at her again, before he finished, he might lose his courage. And for her, he had to expel his own darkness.

“I will raise our Ana because I choose to, Ekatherina. I will give her what you would not. And I will forgive you, so that I can raise her without this anger, this swell of rage and resentment that I’ve let bury and fester inside of me, and change me into a man I hardly recognize.”

Soft, damp pricks of rain peppered his raincoat. He pulled the cover over Ana’s stroller. He reached underneath her seat and pulled out a wreath of chamomile, roses, and lilies. He had it made from her favorite flowers from her days in Russia. He didn’t know she had a favorite flower, but the packet Aleksei left with him, titled Things Anasofiya Might Like to Know One Day, had a lot of information about Ekatherina that surprised him and reminded him how little he actually knew her.

“I’ll be back, but not for me next time. For Ana, who deserves to believe she was loved by the person who should have loved her most in the world.”

For Ana, Augustus would craft the most effective illusion he’d ever crafted. He’d shrug off the persistence of loss and embrace whatever arrived in its place.

For Ana.

Epilogue: Irish Colleen and the Seven

Colleen Deschanel, known as Irish Colleen to her family and friends, walked past the faces of her seven children, and four grandchildren, as she did every night of her life. Soon, Charles would bring a daughter to the family, and Colleen, a son.

But there was one more grandchild. One that would never be spoken of in this household, in her lifetime.

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