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ELIZABETH
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WE ARRIVED HOME THE following afternoon.
It was already dark outside when we drove to the Tree Tunnel. We loved each other long and tender, and fast and hard, making up for all those days we’d been apart.
When we finished, Brian pulled me onto his lap and opened the glove compartment. He took out two blue velvet jewelry boxes: one was long and narrow, the other one was a ring box.
“First this,” he said, opening the long box. Inside was a wolf pendant necklace, similar to those Astrid and Rosie had. He secured it around my neck. “I thought I would give it to you for Christmas but couldn’t wait. It’s a piece of protective jewelry, made of silver, lapis lazuli and magic.”
Then he opened the small box, took the ring and slid it on my engagement finger. “I hope you like it. I told Magda what kind of ring I wanted for you, and she made it.”
I lifted my hand, looking at my ring. The band was platinum; an emerald-cut blue diamond sat in its raised crown. The band was wide, but delicate, engraved with swirls symbolizing two wolves.
I couldn’t talk for a moment, so moved I was. “It’s beautiful,” I finally stuttered. “Oh, Brian, it’s so beautiful.”
“Glad you like it. You have to tell me about the wedding place,” Brian said, kissing my palm. “I saw a book in the library. One Hundred and One of the Most Beautiful Wedding Places, or something like that. Where do you want to go? Italy? Paris? The Caribbean?
I lowered my head and kissed him. “What would our family say? And the people here? They expect us to have the wedding in Copper Ridge.”
“We’ll celebrate it here, but you’ve probably dreamed of some special spot. I’ll make it possible. I can take you to orbit and marry you there, just say.”
“Well, thank you, but I already have a place in my mind. The Tree Tunnel. I want to be married here.”
“Hm. The Tree Tunnel, you say. Come to think of it,” Brian said, lowering his seat until I was sprawled over him, “I wouldn’t mind if we had our honeymoon here as well.”
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I WAS BACK JUST IN time to wrap up our string quartet practice for our Christmas concert. It was a smashing success. We had three more performances in the following days.
We celebrated Christmas in the tinselhouse with our family and then hosted dinner the following day for all our friends, old and new. Among them were Olga Nikolaevna, Christian and Lucy, Gerd and Lani, Jason, Harriet and Ennis ... as well as several newly married or re-married couples: Hal and Violet, Rowena and Ahmed, and James and Eve. They filled the spacious tinselhouse dining room with joy and laughter.
My heart almost burst with happiness.
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“I, ELIZABETH BERTRADA, take you, Brian Robert ...”
Brian and I married in March, on the anniversary of my arrival at Copper Ridge. It snowed a little bit, just to make our day even more perfect.
We stood at the beginning of the tunnel. The arched branches were covered with snow and it looked as if we stood under a magnificent white canopy.
Rowena married us. It was one of her duties as the Einhamiress of Copper Ridge.
I wore a simple, elegant, long gown, snowy white and long sleeved. The scooped neckline and cuffs were trimmed with white fluffy faux fur. The dress tightly hugged the contours of my body, stretching around my tummy to accommodate my small bump.
Not that anyone saw much of my pretty dress before the reception at the Watchman’s. Brian’s mother from Gelltydd Coch had brought me her beautiful fifteenth-century cape to wear over my dress because it was the middle of winter and the day was very cold. It was the palest pink in color, woolen, light but warm and richly embroidered with fine silver and gold threads around the hem and the hood. She and Brian had gone so far that a thick, pink carpet was placed in the tunnel so that I wouldn’t stand on the snow in my white satin wedding shoes.
In his light grey tuxedo, white shirt and grey bow tie, Brian was the most handsome groom I had ever seen. I had a bouquet of white roses; Brian wore a single one pinned to the lapel of his tuxedo.
Lani, Lottie and Lucy were my maids of honor and Jack, James and Hal were Brian’s best men.
Behind us stood our family and all our friends, from here, from Rosenthal, from Boston, from New York.
“I, Brian Robert, take you, Elizabeth Bertrada ...”
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WE DIDN’T SPEND OUR honeymoon in the Tree Tunnel. Instead, Brian flew us to an atoll in the Caribbean Sea, named Bertrada Island. It was his wedding present to me. We stayed for two weeks in a small villa left there from the previous owner, then traveled first to Italy then to Gelltydd Coch for another couple of weeks.
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EVE AND I BECAME CLOSE friends. Rarely a day passed without the two of us seeing each other. More and more often Lani, my other best friend, joined us. She and Eve also formed a firm friendship. And then an unexpected member joined our group—Ennis Killian.
The others had been right. She was a great young woman, intelligent and funny to the bone. She and the charming Red Cliffs deputy sheriff Adam Mackenzie had started dating, and they seemed very much in love.
We’d never talked again about that background check file. I knew she was innocent.
Her wedding present was unique—the interior revamp of Brian’s and my bedroom, which now combined our former bedrooms into once space. And it was supposed to be a surprise, so she’d worked on it while Brian and I were on our honeymoon.
We weren’t allowed to peek inside for a whole week after we’d returned from Wales because the lace curtains hadn’t arrived yet from Belgium. We slept in Harriet and Jason’s old bedroom.
Then one Saturday morning Ennis called us to come upstairs. She met us in front of the bedroom, opened the door and stepped aside so that we could come in.
“I'm pleased to present you with the Baroque-and-roll bedroom,” she said with a flourish.
Brian uttered an excited, “Oh, my!” and I was completely speechless for a while.
“I see every room as a theater stage and pieces of furniture as actors,” Ennis explained while we, stunned, looked around the room. “My job is to find the best role for each of them.”
The massive, dark four-poster Baroque bed was the “main male” character, she explained. The sensual textile of the baldachin, embroidered pillows and Belgian lace curtains represented the main actress.
The walls were painted rich blue, the same color as the baldachin. The rustic wooden floor created a lovely contrast with the tall, elegant windows. Every piece had been expertly chosen and combined into a glamorous but cheerful and relaxed space: the carpet, the lamps, armchairs, the lovely Baroque vanity—and each had a role in this wonderful, magical play.
Still unable to utter a word, but on the verge of tears, I walked to Ennis and hugged her tightly.
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LOTS OF THINGS HAPPENED in the following months.
Madam Nikolaevna liked Copper Ridge so much that she’d sold her house in Boston and permanently settled here. She was happy. She wasn’t alone anymore. She had me; she adored Lani and Christian, and she loved Brian.
She bought a small house and started teaching Copper Ridge and Red Cliffs children piano, free of charge. I’d seen her recently. I knew she was in her late sixties, but I swear she already looked fifteen years younger.
Once Brian was able to leave Copper Ridge, we traveled to Rosenthal. During our first visit, I’d given him a tour through the Baker Block. He was impressed with the job Christian and I had done.
Lottie, Ned and Jacob visited us frequently.
Azem and Lily had gone to Vegas one weekend to see a Cirque du Soleil show. They’d returned married.
After a short courtship, David Fontaine and Nabila, head over heels for each other, decided to marry. Zana adored her future stepfather, and David loved the little girl as if she was his own child.
Lani married Dr. Falkenstein and thus became the empress. Well, defunct, true, but tell that to Copper Ridge.
There would be many more weddings soon, both in Copper Ridge and in Red Cliffs.
In the previous two years, both Copper Ridge and Red Cliffs had been experiencing a small baby boom. And more babies were coming, among them, Jason and Harriet’s, now our neighbors. Their son would be born in October.
My partners moved our business to Rosenthal. They liked the town; the usually fussy Rosenthalers liked them in return.
Two months ago, they had a baby girl. They named her Elizabeth. Rick and Alain had found a young woman willing to be a gestational surrogate. The baby was conceived using a donated egg and the sperm of either Rick or Alain. They never said which one was the biological father, and it didn’t matter.
After many decades, grey wolves—canis lupus, that is—had returned to the forests around Copper Ridge and Red Cliffs in large numbers and continued to play their vital role in maintaining ecological harmony.
Yes, there had been many happy endings and many new beginnings in and around our two small towns since I arrived there less than a year and a half ago.
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CBB RESTAURATION HAD become CBBE Architectural Restoration Studio when Christian Enescu joined us as the fourth partner. He and I opened a CBBE branch in Copper Ridge.
Christian bought a house in town and lived alone, masterfully dodging all Rowena’s attempts to match him up with someone.
He worked three days in Copper Ridge, two in New York. The Met had given us a huge project—to recreate the splendor of an eighteenth-century upper class house through furniture, art and fashion. To Brian’s eternal gratitude, Christian had taken the whole job upon himself. I acted as a consultant.
I told Rowena she was wasting her time. Christian had someone in New York. He looked happy; the shadows had vanished from his eyes; there were no dark undertones in his voice anymore. He was looking forward to his weekly trips.
All my efforts—and they hadn’t been insignificant—to find out who the new woman in his life was, had failed.
And then, one Sunday morning, Lucy phoned. Would it be okay if she came to visit me that weekend? Of course, I said and asked what was wrong.
“I’ve been jinxed, Elizabeth,” she said, on the verge of tears. “There is no other explanation. Every single guy I go out with dumps me after the second date. What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing. They were not the right guys.”
“That’s what Christian said.”
Christian? “When did you see Christian?”
“Oh, I see him every week. We often have lunch together. I might start working with him on the Met project. Anyway, listen to this. I met someone. Everything was fine. We were supposed to go to his country house over the weekend, you know. Then he phoned me today and said he wasn’t ready for a serious relationship. Could you imagine? I didn’t mention a serious relationship; I wanted to have sex, for Pete’s sake. I’ll die as a virgin, at the age of ninety-five.”
We both laughed at that.
“I can take an afternoon flight on Thursday,” she added, “if that’s okay with you and Brian.”
“Sure. Text me with your flight number and someone will pick you up from the airport.”
“Well ... it might not be necessary, but I’ll let you know.”
That week Christian went to New York on Monday and returned on Thursday on the same flight as Lucy.
Ah.
Confronted with the hard evidence, unable to stop smiling, he told me later that Lucy was his “blood call,” the Tel-Urugh equivalent of the werewolf bond. He’d felt it the moment he sensed her scent the day she had arrived at Rosenthal. I remembered clearly how he’d fled from the parking lot that day.
“But you told me it was someone who was at the party,” I said.
“I couldn’t tell you it was Lucy; you would’ve freaked out, and for no reason.”
Being very young, Lucy still didn’t feel their bond, but soon she would, Christian explained. “I thought it would never happen to me. I’m still confused,” he added, and he did sound a bit dazzled.
“So, what are you two doing in New York?”
Christian sighed. “Visiting museums and galleries, talking about music, literature and architecture. Right now, I’m her best friend and confidant, so I listen to a lot about the boys who take her out once or twice and never call her again.”
“Because you’re scaring the daylights out of them, aren’t you?”
“I can’t let it come to the famous third date, now can I?”
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I’D SOLD MY HOUSE IN Boston to a local werewolf family. The paintings, sculptures and decorative art had found a permanent home in Copper Ridge. Three rooms on the main floor of the castle had been turned into an exhibition pavilion and named The Chatwin Gallery.
To my astonishment, as the sole owner of the copyrights, I’d been contacted by several publishing companies about my father’s and mother’s books. They had been reprinted and started selling like crazy. Within months, my bank account swelled considerably.
And then, one evening, after I’d mentioned to Brian how much I wished my mom and dad could know how happy I was, he took me in his arms and said, “I believe they can. Listen, cariad, I was thinking about something. If you agree, we’ll have their remains moved to Copper Ridge. I can’t give them back to you, but at least their graves will be close.”
I cried for what seemed like forever, choking with emotions. “Thank you, Brian. I would love to have them here,” I finally stuttered through tears.
We buried them in the tiny Copper Ridge cemetery. Brian had a nice gravestone erected, with their names. Sometimes I went there to sit with them, or to talk to them. Every time, I was sure they could hear me and see me. And that they were happy for me.
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MY LABOR STARTED IN the early morning of the summer solstice.
I was in the bathroom when my water broke. I woke up Brian telling him we had to go to the hospital and tried hard not to laugh at his expression.
I grabbed the bag I’d had ready for some time, with two sets of baby clothes, two caps, two tiny pairs of socks, two blankets and some of my stuff, and let Brian help me down the stairs.
Or I helped him, I wasn’t sure. He looked more scared than I was.
Woken up with all the commotion, Brian’s parents, who’d come to help us with the babies, were also ready to follow us to the hospital.
Brian phoned Gerd Falkenstein, my obstetrician, and told him to meet us at the Copper Ridge Hospital.
Brian helped me into the car and slowly pulled off.
“How are you feeling?” he asked anxiously.
I let out a deep sigh after a very painful contraction. “Okay, I guess.”
“You can’t be okay. You just had a contraction! Why are you not crying in pain? Women always do that. Why not you?”
I rolled my eyes. “It wasn’t that painful, Brian.”
“You shouldn’t keep it inside, you know.”
“I’ve been dreaming of becoming a mother for such a long time. I am not going to mope and whine every time I have a little contraction. And why are you driving twenty miles per hour?” I asked, waving and smiling at Jason and Harriet, sitting on the porch of their house and sipping coffee. Harriet raised her eyebrows in an unspoken question, and I nodded. She leaned in and said something to Jason. After that, they stood up and disappeared into the house.
“The road is bumpy.”
I chuckled. The road was perfect. My overprotective husband was overreacting again. I had gotten very emotional toward the end of the pregnancy, but Brian got super worried and tense.
“Bumpy or not, hurry up a little bit unless you want me to have the babies here in the car,” I said.
That did the trick. A few minutes later Brian parked in front of the hospital. Robert, Anwen, Jason and Harriet were waiting for us.
Gerd was already at the hospital when we arrived. I was wheel-chaired into my room, Gerd examined me, confirming that all was as it should be and turned to deal with Brian.
“Don’t worry, everything is okay. Let’s go to my office. I’ll make you a cup of coffee.”
Brian wasn’t sure. “Shouldn’t you stay here with her? I’m worried. She is so tiny, Gerd, and she’s carrying twins.”
Gerd winked at me. “Don’t listen to him, Elizabeth. You have good hips and you’ll deliver the babies in no time. Lani’s here. She’ll stay with you.”
Gerd, bless his heart, convinced Brian to leave me for a moment to fill out some papers.
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ONE HOUR LATER, GERD checked on me again. “You’re open, honey, it’s not going to take much longer,” he said. “Do you need anything for pain?”
“She is not in pain at all, Gerd,” Brian said, his grim tone matching his expression. “It’s not normal.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, for Pete’s sake, Brian, I am in pain. Lots of it. I’m trying to save all the screaming for the end. For now, I can still manage it. And don’t talk as if I am not here.”
“You sometimes look like you’re deep in your thoughts.”
“Pain management,” I snapped and let out a loud moan. “I’m going over the last year and a half, counting my blessings.”
“Why would you do that? Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Because I have to keep my mind occupied. Because I’m happy. Because everything fell into its place ... Oh, god, that hurts,” I panted as pain slashed through my abdomen.
“Lani, what’s going on?” Brian asked in panic, as Lani checked her watch. Seeing me in pain scared my husband even more.
“The time between two contractions is getting shorter, Brian. Relax. Everything will be fine,” Lani said in her best ward nurse voice.
It didn’t work. He gave Lani a distracted nod then looked at Gerd. “I’m telling you, something’s wrong. Elizabeth should be in more pain.”
I was about to throw him out of the room when the door opened.
“Brian, you’re twice as fussy now than when I delivered Jack,” Eve said as she entered the room. “Which is understandable, this time you’re having twins. Lani, Gerd, good to see you.” She came to my bed and kissed my cheek. “He’s driving you crazy, isn’t he?”
“Nice to see you too, Eve,” Brian said with a smirk.
“How are you?” she asked me.
“Impatient,” I said. “I want to see my children.”
“You will,” Eve said, “in a short while. Trust me.”
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THE TIME BETWEEN TWO contractions shortened and the pain intensified.
People continued popping in and out of my room, just to say hello: Astrid, Jack, James, Madam Nikolaevna, the Killians.
My family and friends crowded the hospital, I thought, my heart swelling with emotion.
Then Rick and Alain burst in, with their baby daughter still in her car seat.
“Hey, love, you look great for someone who’s about to deliver,” Rick said, and lifted little Elizabeth from the car seat and placed her in my arms.
“Hello, little Elizabeth,” I said and kissed her hair. She made a sweet sound but continued to sleep.
“Did I thank you for naming her after me?” I said with a smile.
“About fifteen times, but you’re welcome, honey,” Alain said and bent to kiss my cheek.
“We even took your middle name into consideration,” Rick said, “but, lovely as it, it’s a bit too old fashioned.”
Lani laughed. “Oh, but here we witness its revival. Bertrada has been the number one name for baby girls in the last few months, followed by Elizabeth.”
Lydia and Mike Dutton had been first to name their daughter Bertrada, then five more couples after them. I was honored, but also hoped that the little girls would like their rare, outlandish name once they grew up.
I looked down at the baby sleeping in my arms. “Thank you for bringing her.”
“You think we’d let you have the babies without us?” Alain said and took my hand. “How’s it going, love? How close is it?”
“Not close enough.” I passed him his daughter. “Here, take her.” I shifted to find a less uncomfortable position. “How’s little Elizabeth?”
“She is perfect,” Rick said. “She’s sleeping now from ten p.m. to five a.m. Eating well, crying aloud. She took after me. I was such a good baby.”
They continued telling us the small funny anecdotes from their family life and soon we all laughed. My god, Rick and Alain were such natural parents.
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THE LAST STAGE OF LABOR started around mid-day, and hurt like hell, but it was over quickly. I was more concerned about my out-of-his-mind-with-worry husband than about myself. I had not only Gerd and Lani with me; I was surrounded by a dozen top doctors and medical workers as if I were royalty. In fact, to the best of my knowledge, no royalty had had the chance to have a defunct emperor and his empress wife help her deliver her babies.
Gripping Brian’s hands tightly, feeling the mighty power of our bond flowing between us stronger than ever, I did a few last pushes.
Ildi was born first, followed by her brother, James shortly after. Brian had chosen the name for our daughter, and I for our son. He named her after my famous ancestor, whose beauty and wit had captured the heart of an emperor. James was named after the man whom Brian loved like a brother. Brian insisted that they had to have two surnames—Chatwin Canagan—so that my lineage would carry on not only through blood but through the family name as well.
Overwhelmed with joy, I couldn’t stop crying as I held the two tiny bundles in my arms. They were perfect: clean, rosy skin, puffy eyelids, plenty of dark hair. They both weighed slightly over seven pounds.
I fell apart when Brian took them in his arms, closed his eyes and, kissing the crowns of their little heads, deeply inhaled their scent, burning it forever in his memory. He looked at them mesmerized, for the longest moment unable to utter a word.
Then he bent toward me and kissed my lips. “Thank you, cariad,” he whispered, his eyes misty with tears.
And then their big brother Jack held them, then their grandparents, then Astrid. Rosie fixed their little caps and showered them with kisses. After everyone got their turn, Gerd ordered them out of my room, all except Brian, so that I could feed my babies.
Tired from the labor, they were hungry. Lani helped me to put them at my breasts, huge, swollen with forthcoming milk. They both expertly latched onto my nipples and hungrily sucked up whatever colostrum was already there.
When they finished, Brian put them in their bassinets and they fell asleep. He stretched beside me on the hospital bed and closed his arms around me.
“I love you. All three of you,” he whispered and kissed me with indefinite tenderness.
“And I love you,” I whispered back against his lips. “All three of you.”