Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 97535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
I smile. She’s become quite the big sister. “That’s a good idea,” I tell her.
Catherine walks over with ice cream and the kids run to her. She takes Christian from us to give him a snack and I wrap a towel around Isabelle’s shoulders.
“You look amazing,” I tell her, hugging her to me. “Pregnancy becomes you.”
“I’m going to get you soaked,” she says but doesn’t pull away.
“Then we’d better take your suit off,” I tell her and lead her into the house. “We’ll be back,” I tell Catherine as we disappear.
I take my wife upstairs to our bedroom and strip off her bikini. I then stand back and take her in, my beautiful wife. My beautiful, strong, incredible wife. I’m in awe of her every day.
“What are you doing?” she asks, her cheeks flushing red as she takes my hands.
“Looking at you.” I turn her face up to kiss her mouth. She kisses me back. We walk into the bathroom where I run the shower and strip. We step into the stall together.
“You’re a good mom and aunt, you know that? You’re good for them. All of them.”
“Thanks for saying that. And you’re a good dad and uncle. They all love you, their big teddy bear. Even Matty.”
I smile, kissing her as I lather her with soap. What I want to do is make love to her. What I want to do is carry her to our bed, lock our door and make love to my wife for days. But we have something to do today. So, a few minutes later, once we’re finished with the shower and dressed, we head downstairs and out the back door. We pass the kids in the library where Leontine and Catherine are entertaining them.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Ready,” she says. I take her hand and lead her through the path into the woods. It’s wider now and paved with stone to the farthest point of the property where wildflowers grow thickest between Bishop and St. James land.
She squeezes my hand and when we reach the new clearing Isabelle’s eyes widen as she takes it all in. It’s the first time she’s seeing it since the work began.
“Oh, Jericho,” she says, looking all around. “This is incredible.”
“You like it?” I ask.
Her eyes glisten and I follow her line of vision over the beautiful arched portico that was once a wall between our properties. It is now a grand gateway, something to connect rather than divide, the wide path planted with beautiful flowering bushes and trees, lit with lights that will glow golden into the night.
She turns to me, reaches her hands to my face. “It’s perfect. Our families united now. Nothing to divide us again. Thank you for this. For taking Matty in. For doing this for us.”
“It’s for all of us. We’re family.”
“Thank you.”
“I have one more thing I want to do.” We walk hand in hand to the chapel where smoke is coming from the chimney, the scent of incense strong, as I open the door and we enter.
“What’s going on?” she asks. She’s never seen the fire lit here and the place is transformed. Warmer with the glow and the heat.
I lead her to the fireplace along the wall farthest from us and she stiffens when she sees the book there on the mantle.
I take it, Draca’s diary, and hold it between us.
She drags her gaze from it to me and I see the shadow this book casts over her. I never want to see anything steal away my wife’s happiness again.
“It should have been burned centuries ago, but I’m doing it now. And I swear to you no St. James will ever harm a Bishop again.”
She smiles, puts her hand on my forearm. “Are you sure you want to burn it?”
“Yes,” I say, turning to throw the book into the raging fire and watch as it’s absorbed. The flames shoot higher momentarily, as if not accepting the food given them, throwing it back up for its foulness. But then as we watch, it burns, becomes ash like the man who wrote it. Who wrote his hate into words and gave that hate a life all its own. One that would long outlive him. “Rest in peace, Draca St. James.”
I turn back to find Isabelle’s eyes on me. She takes my hands, stands on tiptoe and kisses me. I feel the loosening of a chain. A letting go of something dark. And I kiss her back. I kiss my wife, the woman I love, the woman who saw the devil I am and loved me in spite of it.