Felicite Found (24 page)

Rest in Peace

As they walked toward
Pont Neuf
, Pierre laced his fingers through Félicité’s, twisting the gold band circling her ring finger with his thumb. He held her hand to give her strength to do what she felt had to be done.

To be honest, he was surprised when she brought up her plan that they were putting into action today. He knew she needed closure from her past—some way to forgive herself and let go of her pain. Now, she had found a way she thought would carry the scars of her past away, while giving peace to those she had killed: the Rousseaux heirs. Walking to the point of her death and second and third chances at life, Félicité placed a small white urn atop the bridge’s stone berth. She turned to face Pierre, a smile glittering on her beautiful face.

“You ready?” Pierre asked, squeezing her hand.

“Yes. I want to give them rest, at least in my own little way. Maybe feel like I can forgive myself, too.” She turned toward the urn and opened it but then stopped. A tear fell slowly down her cheek.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just . . . What if I don’t feel better after doing this? What if I still cannot forgive myself?”

Pierre shook his head, sighing. “You know, maybe you’ll have to live with this the rest of your life. That’s what’s so hard about making mistakes. You never forget them. But—and this is a huge but—remembering them helps us never to do them again. Understand?” She nodded her head in response, moisture still in her eyes. “My mom once gave me some really great advice—advice that brought you back to me, actually.”

Félicité half smiled.

“She said: ‘You must understand that all of us have a past. It’s what we do with our future that is the measurement of one’s character.’ Félicité, you’ve done some pretty great stuff with your future already, helped a lot of people. I assure you, that’s who you are now. You are not the person you were in your past. And I’ve forgiven you, if that makes things any better.” Pierre searched Félicité’s eyes, looking for any sign that what he had said had helped at all. His heart ached for her.

She brushed her tears away and fully, really smiled. “Thanks. I can do this now. Just needed a . . . what does Luc call it?”

“A pep talk?” Pierre chuckled, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, a pep talk.” She laughed, as well. “All right, let’s get this show on the road, as Luc would say.”

“Luc’s becoming a bad influence on you. ‘Pep talks’. ‘Get this show on the road’. He’s taking away your proper speech. I don’t like it. You’re never seeing him again. You know that, right?” Pierre grinned at his joke while he poked Félicité in the ribs.

“But, I like to see
Chéri. She is . . . what do you call her? Cool.”

“Enough of
Luc’isms.”

“Right! Back to the point.” Félicité took the lid off the urn, gazing out to the River Seine.

Pierre wondered what flowed through her mind. But he was pretty sure she would never want him to see into its depths, at least where her past was concerned. She had told him all she was willing to say.

Félicité started, “I take the ashes of Anton de Rousseaux’s journal, the letter I gave to you,
Pierre, so many years ago, and the lock of my hair that Anton had cut from my head before I died the first time.” She dipped her hand into the depths of the urn and withdrew a hand full of the remains of the things she had just stated. “In order to give rest to the souls of those who died at the hands of my past cruelty, I drift these ashes upon the waters of the Seine, making them float away and disappear from sight.” Slowly, her hand opened and the ashes were caught in the wind, drifting down to the flowing river’s water.

Her hand reached into the urn again, and she pulled it out with more ashes. “As a sign of complete forgiveness, I spread these ashes for Anton de Rousseaux. Although, he did terrible things to others and me, he did not deserve to be sent to such an awful place. I hope, in some way, he will be granted peace to his soul.” Again, her hand opened, releasing the remains of his journal into the river.

An overwhelming peace spread across Pierre as if the “Rousseaux Curse” had finally ended. There was no more cause for worry about his future. He would not die, at least not until he was old and gray. And Félicité had, in her own way, let her past drift away. For some reason, he felt as though Anton was offered peace. Although, he didn’t know how that would ever be possible with where he had ended up.

Félicité offered Pierre the urn. As he took it from her hands, Pierre gazed deeply into her eyes. He could tell she had become happier, even angelic.

“It’s your turn. Finish it,” she said to the present Rousseaux heir.

Pierre put his hand through the hole and gathered as much of what was left of the ashes. As he pulled his hand out, he said, “Félicité, as a sign of my undying love for you and forgiveness, I spread these ashes in hopes that you can forgive yourself. I do this so your future can be bright, filled with happy memories that will make your past fade away in your mind. This is to our future—the future of Pierre and Félicité Rousseaux.”

With the flick of his hand, he let the ashes go. Watching their wispy turns as they filtered through the air and into the water, all Pierre could think about was the girl standing by his side. As if by fate, he had found Félicité and Félicité Found him.

The End

Acknowledgements
 

I
t’s been three and a half years of dreaming Félicité Found would be published, and now it has arrived at its destination. It’s been a bumpy road but a magnificent one at that. The thing is: it would not be in its current pretty state without the help of amazing people. I have grown to adore them with all my heart throughout this journey. I’d like to send a thousand thanks of happy monkeys their way! If I failed to mention you, I plead your forgiveness and send you some virtual nummy-to-your-tummy chocolate, too!

First and foremost, thank you God for blessing me with the gift of words and for the vivid dream that brought them to me. 

I’d like to thank my biggest fan—my father. He has read Félicité Found countless times as I have gone through one revision after the next. It is his sweet love and dedication to my writing goals that has kept me pressing forward, for the most part. I love you, Dadio! My mother has stood by his side in like commitment. She is beautiful and my little angel. I love you, my Momma Mia.

My first two betas gave me confidence to know my story was good enough to keep refining it. They are Sarah Heywood (my brilliant, long-time friend) and Robin
LuBean King (my beyond-this-universe amazing sister-in-law—and writer, too). I appreciate their wisdom and guidance.

Trisha Wolfe—I love ya, girl! I had miraculous luck to stumble across her on Twitter. With hopes to make this book polished to a beautiful pearl, I asked her if she could critique it. She accepted and was passionate about making it the best! I thank you so much for your direction, encouragement, and friendship.

And now for a list of other peeps for their amazing help: Morgan Shamy, Tiffany King, Shannon Duffy, Robin Weeks, Jamie Corrigan, Caitlin Lomas, Rob Weidmann, Adam Forgie, Jennifer King, Jessica McGraw, Jared Oldham, and Alex Henry.

H
ugs to countless other fantastic supporters along the way, especially my dear family and friends!

Also, props to
Maksim Toome. Whoever you are, you gave my story a pretty face. Yay, for stock photography!

Merci Beaucoup!

About the Author

Julia King grew up in a town in the happiest county in Utah. She enjoys reading, music (especially U2), the outdoors, and traveling. She appreciates a good television show, but her favorites are the following:
The X-Files
,
Doctor Who
,
Sherlock
,
Stargate SG1
,
Warehouse 13
, and
Once Upon a Time
. She has quite the sweet tooth (Nom Nom). It is common for her to squeal up a storm when she sees a dog. Her favorite breed is beagles, and she longs for the day when she can have one of these furry, adorable friends of her own.

Visit her online and read her blog at juliawritingjewelsking.blogspot.com.

And she loves conjuring up stories that swirl sweetly in her mind. Well, until they come to life on the page.

She would like to sincerely thank you for reading her first baby, her precious Félicité Found.