Christmas Eve had come to New Orleans with a most unusual phe-nomenon: a light snow arrived that December afternoon and coated the ground with white. Snow was a rare thing in the Crescent City, and in the residential areas the children were out trying to make snowmen from the thin layer of snow. Very few succeeded in this, but there were snowball fights, and those who had traveled from the northern parts of the country were gathering up enough to make snow cream.
At the home of Louis d’Or, the carriages that had come for a Christmas Eve dinner created tracks in the snow, and the coachmen beat their hands together as they waited outside. After a time, Agnes the maid invited them into the kitchen for some “Christmas cheer,” and they gladly accepted.
Inside the large dining room, extra places had been set so that twenty-five people were wedged into the room. The chandelier over-head threw its sparkling light down on the excited faces, reflecting off of the silverware and the fine china, and the servers were bringing in the food: turkey and dressing and a huge ham.
Louise d’Or and his wife, Renee, sat at opposite ends of the table. They beamed at each other from time to time, their glances often going to Bayard and Fleur, who sat together midway at the long table. Louis d’Or was more jovial than anyone had ever seen him. His eyes flashed, and he yielded the knife that sliced the turkey with a flourish.
Fleur was wearing a new gown that she had picked out herself. It was a pale blue that fitted her form extremely well, and from her ears two green stones flashed and caught the light overhead. Often she put her hand on Bayard’s arm, as if seeking reassurance. Once she whis-pered, “I never seen so much food.”
“Well, I have an engagement party only once, so Father and Mother went all out.”
Suddenly the talk died down, for Louis had risen from his chair. “I will interrupt the festivities only long enough to make an extended, boring speech.”
“No, Louis,” Renee said. “No speeches, please.”
“Well, you see what honor I have in my own house. My own dear wife can’t bear my speaking. Very well. It will be a short speech then.” He grew serious and looked around the table, his eyes finally coming to rest on Bayard and Fleur. “This is the time of Christmas. Usually we think about giving and receiving presents. Tonight I want you to meet the person who has given my wife and me such a great gift. My daughter-in-law-to-be, Miss Fleur Avenall, who gave us back our son.”
Applause rose from the company, and Fleur colored but managed to smile. She kept her hold on Bayard’s arm, and he reached over and enclosed her hand in his.
Louis smiled at this and continued, “She gave us our son by sav-ing his life, and I’ll be glad to tell that story, although you’ve all heard it, but we are giving her a great gift, too: our only son. So, at this time of Christmas, I propose a toast to my son, Bayard d’Or, and to his bride, Miss Fleur Avenall.”
The voices rang out, “Hear, hear!”
“Now we need to hear from the bride and groom. Bayard, what do you have to say for yourself?”
Bayard did not rise or release Fleur’s hand. “Thank you, Father. You left out a great deal about what a prodigal son I was. I would be out there yet, I suppose, if it were not for this woman beside me. She not only saved my life physically, but she and her dear mother, bless her soul, taught me to love God and to trust in Him.” He turned to Fleur and smiled gently. “Soon we will stand up and make our vows, but I’ll make you one just now, Fleur: I am yours as long as you will have me, to love you as long as we are on this earth.”
“That is very beautiful,” Fleur responded. Then humor twinkled in her eyes. “Still, maybe I will have to tie you up a few times when you misbehave.”
Laughter exploded around the table, for everyone there, close friends and acquaintances, knew the story of how Fleur had managed to stop Bayard from a senseless duel only by tying him to a post.
Simone laughed with the others. She was glad for the couple, and after the dinner was over and the guests had gone, she went to Fleur and said, “I’m so happy for you.”
“It is wonderful,” Fleur said, her eyes dancing. “We have decided to have our honeymoon in my old cabin. But then your father and mother, they have given us a wonderful wedding present. We will spend six months, maybe longer, in London. Bayard will study his painting there, and I will learn to speak and act like a lady.”
“It’s like a storybook, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.” Fleur looked more closely at Simone and asked, “Have you heard from Colin?”
“Yes. The rehearsals are going fine. He had to train a whole new company for the production in New York.”
“None of the old company will be in the new opera?”
“Just a few. Rosa Calabria will keep her role as the nurse, and a few others.”
“What about Marie?”
“She was not asked.”
Fleur hesitated, then said, “Does he say anything else in his letter, I mean?”
“Not really.”
Fleur noted the sadness in Simone’s face and hugged her. “I will pray for you, my sister.”
The house was quiet. The guests had departed, and the family had gone to bed. Looking at the clock on her mantel over the small fire-place, Simone saw that it was after ten. She was listless, and for a while she sat trying to read, but the book made little sense to her. She tossed it aside and started to get ready for bed. Sitting down, she began to brush her hair, and her thoughts were happy as she thought of Bayard and Fleur. They’re going to be such a fine couple, and when they come back, Fleur will fit in perfectly.
Her thoughts went then to herself. She felt restless and out of place and frustrated. She knew that it had to do with Colin. She could not understand him. He had left so abruptly, almost formally, and his letters had been the same. She had received only three, and they were all filled with information about how the preparation for the new opera was going. There was no personal warmth to them, and as she brushed her hair, Simone thought, Something has happened to Colin. I know he cared for me, but he left so coldly. I have prayed for an answer, but I don’t know what it is.
Finally she put the brush down and started to remove her dress, but even as she loosened the first button at the back of her neck she heard a voice. She stood stock-still, then with a glad cry, she ran over to the window. She opened it with a bang and leaned out. There in the snow stood Colin. He was singing the love song of Romeo to Juliet. His voice rose and filled the air. He was smiling. Finally the song ended, and he asked, “Do you remember that from the opera?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Well, in the opera Romeo climbed up to the balcony. I’m not sure I can climb up there, Simone. I might fall and break my neck.”
“You wait. I’ll come down.”
Simone flew down the stairs and out the front door, forgetting even her coat. She ran to Colin, who caught her up in his arms and hugged her so tightly that she gasped. Then he put her down on the ground and kissed her. She held him tightly, and when he lifted his head, he said, “Our story is not going to end like the opera. I always hated the end of Romeo and Juliet.”
“So did I.” Simone looked up, and her eyes were sparkling. “It’s so dreary.”
“Well, our life isn’t going to be like that.”
Missing his statement, Simone asked, “Colin, why did you leave almost without a word?”
“I wanted to give us both a chance to think about this. I wasn’t sure you’d have me. But I have thought about it, and now, sweetheart, I want to tell you.” He kissed her again and then laughed. “Romeo’s love for Juliet was nothing. Kid stuff. My love for you is the real thing.”
Simone seemed to relax. “I thought you didn’t want me.”
“Not want you? I want you like a man wants air or water. So, will you have me?”
“Yes!”
They stood clinging to each other, and finally he said, “We’ll be engaged then until the run of this is over in New York, and then we’ll be married.”
“Will it be a long time?”
“It will be long for me. One day would be long for me. But I haven’t told you about our honeymoon.”
“You’ve already got that planned, without even talking to me?”
“I think you’ll like my plan.”
“What is it, Colin?”
“After we’re married, we’ll get on a ship, and we’ll have a honey-moon on board. Then we’ll get to France, and we’ll go to my estate.”
Simone snuggled closer to him. “Is it a castle?”
“Not exactly, but with you there as queen, I’ll feel like a king.” He asked, “Do you remember I once told you about alchemy?”
“Yes, I have never forgotten it.”
“I’m sure of it now. Scientists all failed to turn lead or iron into gold, but you have proven that there is an alchemy in the truest sense of the word. You are another woman from the one I first met. All that was cold and hard is gone—and nothing is left in you but warmth and gentleness and love.”
Simone pulled his head down and kissed him, and then they began to dance around in the snow. Pulling him to a stop, Simone said, “God has answered our prayers, and it’s going to be wonderful.” She paused and added, “But my feet are freezing.”
“You ought to be willing to suffer a little bit. You’re getting me for a husband. Think how lucky you are.”
“You are filled up with pride. I’ll have to puncture that. But come inside. We must tell Father and Mother.”
Suddenly a voice rang out. “You don’t have to tell us anything!”
Simone looked up and saw her parents leaning out of their bed-room window. They were both beaming, and her father said, “I think everybody in the neighborhood heard your proposal, Colin. Now you can come inside and ask my permission to court my daughter.”
Colin waved his right arm, his left around Simone. “I’ll be right there, but I’m only taking yes for an answer.”
The two walked toward the house, clinging to one another, and the stars glittered above them. Snow began to fall.