Chapter 10

The music in the café cut out.

I stood up without another word.

Julian followed me, grinning. "Wife! Wait up!"

Then, like he'd just remembered, he turned back and smiled at Sebastian.

"Forgot to introduce myself. Julian Pemberton. The Bostonian Pembertons."

Something flickered in Sebastian's eyes.

Julian made a soft ah.

"Oh, right. My wife and I are actually fellow patients. So you wouldn't have found the paperwork, buddy. Don't beat yourself up about it."

I waited by the door.

Watched Julian jog toward me.

The same way he had two years ago.

I'd been picking up my prescription at the sanatorium. On my way out, Julian had had a manic episode. He'd crashed straight into me. Sobbing into my shoulder like a wounded animal.

Nobody was helping him. He was tangled up in the hold straps, a mess.

I was too. My straps were just invisible.

Something moved in me. I stroked his hair. Said, quiet, "It's okay. You'll be okay."

And Julian had gone still.

Everything after that had followed naturally.

The only real accident was two psychiatric patients getting drunk one night and screaming that they wanted to get married. And then actually going to the registry office and doing it.

Julian waved a hand in front of my face. Pathetic. "Wife. You've been out of it since the café. Do you not want me anymore?"

I blinked back in. The corners of my mouth lifted without my asking them to. "No. I want you. Only you."

Julian went pink. Squirmed. "Honey. Not in the street."

"Save the 'want' for tonight."

I…

I chose not to hear him.

The oak leaves were gold. They drifted down as we walked, pretty in the afternoon light.

People were taking photos.

A photographer ran out, pitching hard. "Portraits? Guaranteed gorgeous, full edit!"

Julian stepped in front of me. His voice cooled. "No thanks. My wife doesn't like cameras."

I reached out and tucked my arm through his.

The moon was going to be beautiful tonight.

I said, quiet, "I'd like to."

The photographer lit up and ran back for his gear.

Julian didn't move.

I tucked myself against his chest and looked up.

His eyes were red.

I hesitated. "You don't want to?"

Julian sniffed hard.

Then, loud enough to startle the pigeons: "TAKE THEM! Why wouldn't I take them! We are taking ALL THE PHOTOS! Right out in front of everyone!"

He grabbed my hand.

Pulled me forward with him, steady.

Behind us, the leaves rustled.

From the corner of my eye:

Sebastian, hovering. Uncertain.

Then turning. Walking away.

I turned toward the camera.

I smiled.

Time passes. Right and wrong become clear.

Sebastian stopped, in the end.

The day Julian and I held our formal wedding, he had his mother send a gift.

A brand new St. Christopher medallion.

Mrs. Blackwood looked as elegant as ever. Only her eyes showed tiredness now.

She pressed a sealed silver envelope into my hand. Her voice was warm. "Sebastian wanted to come himself."

"But there was a storm at the monastery. The path was slick. He slipped. He's going to be in bed for six months."

Julian squeezed my hand.

Stared quietly at the medallion.

I smiled, polite. "Then Sebastian probably needs it more than I do."

"Thank you, Mrs. Blackwood. I'll accept the envelope."

She sighed.

And took the medallion back.

Julian was trying not to smirk.

I was smiling too.

Smiling because from now on, our rivers would never cross.

Love and hate turned to smoke.

THE END.