37
Angelique
Icarefully unwrapped the delicate wrapping paper from the narrow box.
“Is that from the kids?” my husband asked as he sat down beside me with a sparkly, white gift bag in his hand.
“Mm hmm, they dropped it off on their way to Monique’s.”
“Monique’s? I thought they were in Alberta with Noémie?”
I nodded and said, “They were. Then Geneviève surprised Beau with tickets home.” I smiled to myself as I thought how heartwarming that was.
“Marvelous! So, we will see them later? For drinks at Monique’s?”
“Yes, Papa.”
“What a wonderful turn of events. What is with this gift, though? They know we won’t accept gifts?” he said, his face wrinkled with confusion. What he said was correct. We’d always told our loved ones not to buy anything for us. Because their love and respect were all we needed.
All our lives, we’d been exceptionally blessed financially. And putting the strain on others to come up with gifts for us was unimaginable. When all we wanted was to spend time with those we cherished most.
I patted my husband’s knee. “Geneviève said we’d make an exception this time.”
“Hmm, I see,” he said, staring down at the box for a moment. “Then why not wait until tonight to give it to us?”
My shoulders shrugged and I let out a breath. “I don’t know. She said it belonged here.”
I opened the end of the white box and out slid a photo frame.
With Geneviève, Beauregard, and the two boys.
All wearing ridiculous Santa hats.
And the goofiest of grins.
A note was attached with a ribbon that said, ‘For your fireplace mantel. Love Always, Beauregard, Geneviève, Carson, and Cooper’.
“Ahh,” I sniffed as tears began to fall down my cheeks, “The greatest gift of all.” My vision clouded while more tears filled my eyes. “A new family.”
My husband wrapped his arm around my shoulders and handed me a tissue. “There is nothing better in life, is there?”
“No, my dear.”
He nodded and I saw him wipe a tear or two of his own away. “They have not had an easy time of it. But still, they found their way to each other.”
Marcel laughed, and choked out a cough. “With some thanks to their fairy godmother, no?”
I sniffed one more time and grinned at my husband. “A little nudging was all they needed, Papa,” I said, winking at him.
“Admit it, you sprinkled your magic fairy dust on them long ago.” He chuckled, already knowing my hopes and dreams for these children.
“A perfect match will always prevail.”
He handed me the white, sparkly bag. “Something small,” Marcel said as he always did.
And it was never something small.
I reached in and pulled out a long, glass wand with diamonds and rubies surrounding it. “Every fairy godmother needs a beautiful wand, yes?” he said, leaning over to kiss my cheek.
More tears replaced the ones that had dried. “Thank you, my love. I promise to use it wisely.”
I handed the wand to Marcel, then I rose to my feet and carried the new frame to our mantel. As I placed it between the picture of Beau and the picture of Geneviève with her father, I gently touched her father’s face—as I often did.
“Sleep well, my dear. All is well. You keep watching her from above, and we’ll keep watching her here.”