chances4

"Second Chances"

by Christy

Chapter 4.

   It turned out to be three days before the snow was melted enough to travel. For Esmeralda, this ment three more days with Phoebus, but for Phoebus, it ment an extra delay before he could see his family. And Minerva.
   If anyone knew his thoughts, they'd tell him he'd already spent twenty years without seeing them: a few more days will do nothing. That was precisly why he didn't tell anyone his thoughts, because they wouldn't understand anything.
   But, the three days did pass, and the roads did clear, which ment he could finally start his journey. He was loading Achilles up with his belongings when Quasimodo and Esmeralda arrived to say goodbye.
   "Have a safe journey," said Quasimodo, patting his friend on the back.
   "Uh, thank you," said Phoebus, rubbing his suddenly sore back.
   "Oh, sorry," said Quasimodo.
   "No you're not!" said Phoebus, at which they both started laughing.
   "What are you two laughing about," asked Esmeralda, who had just entered the stable.
   "Just remembering some old times," said Phoebus with a grin.
   "Well start living in the present and say goodbye!" giggled Esmeralda.
   "All right," said Quasimodo. He turned to Phoebus. "Merry Christmas, good luck seeing your family again, and all that."
   "Same to you," said Phoebus, "Well, not the 'good luck seeing your family again' part, but the 'Merry Christmas' part." He shook Quasimodo's hand. "It's a shame I'll miss your first Christmas out of the tower, though."
   "Oh, don't worry about that," said Quasimodo.
   "Who said I was?" grinned Phoebus.
   "No one, that's why I told you not to start," said Quasimodo, "What are we talking about anyway?"
   "I believe we're saying goodbye."
   "Right," said Quasimodo, "Well, bon voyage. I hope we'll see you again soon."
   "Thank you," said Phoebus.
   Quasimodo turned and started to walk away, but then he stopped and looked back. There was one more thing he felt Phoebus deserved before he left.
   "Forgive me," Quasimodo said. He stepped up to Phoebus and hugged him.
   Esmeralda smiled warmly as she watched the men embrace, trying hard to ignore the lump that was forming in her throat at the thought that she too would soon have to say goodbye to Phoebus.
   Too soon, Quasimodo let go of Phoebus and stepped aside, which ment the time had come. Esmeralda swallowed hard and approached Phoebus, wondering why she suddenly felt so shy.
   "Well.......I guess we should get this over with," she said uneasily.
   "Yes.....we probably should," said Phoebus, equally uneasily.
   "Well then," said Esmeralda, "may you be well in all your travels. A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year."
   "Thank you," said Phoebus, but he wasn't making eye contact. His eyes were constantly glancing up suspiciously, as if he was trying to get Esmeralda's attention.
   "What are you looking at?" asked Esmeralda. She looked up and gasped when she saw what was dangling from Achilles' ear-right over her head.
   Mistletoe.
   "PHOEBUS!!!" she exclaimed.
   Phoebus grinned slyly. "Surely you've learned enough about our customs to know what happens to someone when she stands under mistletoe!"
   "You still haven't outgrown the sneeky tricks, have you?" sneered Esmeralda.
   "Well like it or not, you're standing under mistletoe," said Phoebus, "And I am forced to carry out tradition!"
   "Phoebus, you are absolutly impossible!" Esmeralda snapped, but she couldn't stop a grin from creeping across her face.
   "I know, but let's get on with this," said Phoebus, taking her hand, "Tradition, you know!"
   Esmeralda's smile grew wider as she nodded. "Tradition," she repeated.
   And hence, they carried out tradition. Phoebus took Esmeralda's face into his hands and passionatly kissed her. As they kissed, Esmeralda wrapped her arms around his neck, absorbing the sensation in her lips.
   Quasimodo watched from the corner of the stable. For a moment his mind traveled back to when he'd witnessed a similar happening many months ago: the time Phoebus was injured and Esmeralda begged Quasimodo to let him stay in the tower. He had agreed to perform the diffcult task: not only the difficult task of protecting Phoebus but the more difficult task of facing the hard reality that Esmeralda, the woman he loved, loved another. Neither Esmeralda nor Phoebus knew what he had felt for her, and he would never tell them. How could he ever tell the two people who had stood by him in life-and-death situations that they had broken his heart?
   No, they had done too much for him. He had vowed to himself that he would always help them when they were in need, and accept his position as Esmeralda's best friend and brother, nothing more.
   So why did it still hurt so much to see them kiss?
   Meanwhile Esmeralda and Phoebus were lost in each other. This was far from being the first time they had shared one of these moments, but no amount of repetition could reduce the thrill. It took an effort on both their parts to force their lips to seperate.
   "Well....." Esmeralda said after a few moments, " I guess it's time for you to leave."
   "Yes....yes it is," said Phoebus, taking her hand again. "But don't you worry. I'll be back after the New Year starts." He paused and gave a sheepish grin. "Actually, you should probably be glad I'm seeing my mother. There's something....very important I need to discuss with her."
   Esmeralda's heart thumped. "Of course," was all she could say.
   Phoebus planted a kiss on her hand. "Merry Christmas," he whispered. Then, with great reluctance, he let her hand slip out of his and mounted onto Achilles.
   "Phoebus?" Esmeralda said suddenly.
   He looked down at her. "Yes?"
   She couldn't find the words she wanted to say. "I....I never actually said goodbye," she stammered.
   "No...no you didn't."
   "Well then, goodbye," said Esmeralda.
   "Esmeralda, I....." started Phoebus.
   "Yes?"
   "I...I never actually said goodbye either," he stammered.
   "No, you didn't," replied Esmeralda.
   "Well then, goodbye."
   Why were they talking so awkwardly? Neither could tell, yet neither could bring themselves to talk more naturally. Perhaps this was why they didn't say another word. From atop Achilles, Phoebus blew a quick last kiss at Esmeralda, then he turned and with a click of his tounge, his horse trotted out of the stable and galloped into the street.
   Esmeralda stared after him and waved goodbye. She continued waving at him long after he disappeared from sight.
   "And what was that all about???"
   Esmeralda snapped out of the trance and turned to find Melenie glaring sharply at her.
   "Melenie?!" she exclaimed.
   "What were you doing in there??" Melenie snapped, "Never mind, I saw the whole thing!"
   "You saw that?" Esmeralda said faintly.
   "Yes," said Melenie, "Now tell me the truth! What is the real relationship between you and him??"
   "We are friends!" Esmeralda still insisted.
   The younger gypsy would no longer believe that statement. "Friends? Ha! People who are just friends don't act the way you just did! You would never kiss Clopin like that!"
   "I would never kiss Clopin!" retorted Esmeralda.
   "Case in point," stated Melenie, "Now tell me the whole story!"
   "It is nothing for you to worry about," said Esmeralda.
   "It's nothing for me to worry about when my best friend isn't being honest with me???"
   For once Esmeralda was speechless. No brushing it off, no insisting Melenie was wrong, no efforts to defend herself, nothing. She just stared coldly at her friend, with wide eyes and an open mouth, breathing deeply.
   Melenie saw this as confirmation. "How could you do this?? Why would you let him influence you to throw away all you have???"
   Esmeralda's voice returned, loud and angry. "You do believe those horrid rumors! How could you???"
   "How could you??" shouted Melenie.
   "I didn't!!!" snapped Esmeralda.
   "Why should I believe you??" Melenie snapped back. "You lied to me about you and Phoebus: why wouldn't you lie to me about your convertion??"
   "Melenie, why are you jumping to conclusions??" Esmeralda said firmly, "Why are you convinced that I've betrayed you simply because you saw one kiss??"
   "Maybe I'm just concerned about your well being," said Melenie, "Don't you realize what he is?"
   "What he was," corrected Esmeralda, "And yes, I realize he was our enemy, but he has moved on from that!"
   "How can you be so sure??" exclaimed Melenie, "You talk like you can read his inner thoughts! Even if he has reformed, he was still raised as a soldier!!"
   "So?"
   Melenie couldn't believe what she was hearing. "So he could lapse back to being our enemy!!"
   "You could say that about anyone!" argued Esmeralda. "People change all the time. Your best friend today can become your worst enemy tomorrow! But you can't just go around convinced the whole world is against you!"
   "Even so, he's not a blood Gypsy!"
   This was the final straw. "Melenie," Esmeralda said through clenched teeth, "how do you know I'm a blood Gypsy???"
   Melenie stared at her with a mixture of anger, disappointment, and sadness. "Fine!" she finally snapped,     "Maybe you're not really a Gypsy!! That would explain why your loyalties lie elsewhere!!" She turned sharply and stormed away before Esmeralda could say another word.
   Esmeralda stared after her in confusion, almost unable to notice Quasimodo approaching her.
   "What was that all about?" he asked.
   "I don't know," she said, blinking back tears.

   That night, as Melenie packed up for the next morning's departure, she felt horribly guilty about the things she'd said to Esmeralda. How did things get so mixed up? Why had she exploded over just seeing her best friend kiss a Frenchman?
   That was the very reason: she had seen her best friend kiss a Frenchman, and not just a Frenchman, but a Frenchman who was once a soldier!
   But now, as she reviewed the day's events in her head, she felt like she'd done her friend a horrible injustice. How could she have shown such disloyalty to someone who was almost a sister? She knew she could never live with herself if she left for Spain without making ammends, so she nervously made her way to the front of Esmeralda's tent.
   "Esmeralda," she whispered, "are you asleep?"
   "No."
   Actually, Esmeralda had been asleep a few moments ago, but she was fully awakened by Melenie's footsteps. She always slept lightly, for deep sleep could mean death. Anything could happen: a caravan could depart, a thief could steal hard-earned money, or most likely, soldiers could attack. Thus, she always had to be on her guard, even when asleep. She may appear to be resting peacefully, but with the slightest sound she would be awake and prepared to fight.
   At this moment she wouldn't have to fight, but she would have to face a friend who was angry at her: a task almost as difficult. She hesitantly opened the flap of her tent to find Melenie standing there with her head hung low.
   "Esmeralda," she said timidly, "may I please come in?"
   "That depends," said Esmeralda.
   "Depends on what?"
   "Depends on whether or not you're here to yell at me some more!"
   "No," said Melenie, almost in a whisper, "I'm not. I promise."
   "All right, then, come in," said Esmeralda.
   Melenie followed Esmeralda into the tent, where they sat down on Esmeralda's bed. Esmeralda lit a tiny candle to provide them with enough light to see each other.
   "Esmeralda..." Melenie began.
   "Shhh," whispered Esmeralda. She pointed at Djali, who was sleeping in the corner of the tent.
   Melenie rolled her eyes around. "That goat could sleep through a thunderstorm," she snorted.
   "Well a thunderstorm is quieter than you!" grinned Esmeralda.
   For a moment Melenie found herself grinning back, but she quickly recovered her serious expression.        "Esmeralda," she began again, "please accept my apology. I didn't mean to come on so harsh."
   "But you still believe Phoebus was the reason I converted," Esmeralda said coldly.
   Melenie hung her head. "I don't want to believe it."
"Then don't," said Esmeralda, "There is no reason to."
   "Is there any reason not to?" inquired Melenie.
   "Yes there is," Esmeralda stated bluntly, "It is not true. He had nothing to do with it."
   This was Melenie's chance. The question she'd been longing to ask finally came out. "Then exactly why did you convert?"
   At first Melenie feared that Esmeralda would take that as an offense, but Esmeralda seemed to be taking the question seriously. She closed her eyes for a few seconds. "It's hard to explain......I sort of gradually became aware of my longings for something to have faith in, I guess."
   Melenie looked confused.
   Esmeralda knew that explanation probably wasn't satsifactory. She closed her eyes again. "When I claimed sanctuary in Notre Dame.....I think that's when I had my first inklings."
   "What happened?" asked Melenie.
   "After the Archdeacon told me I had sanctuary and ushered the soldiers out, Frollo...." she trailed off.
   "What?"
   Esmeralda wouldn't answer.
   Melenie caught her drift. "If it disturbs you, you don't have to talk about it."
   Esmeralda sighed. "I guess I don't mind talking about it. Frollo sneeked up behind me and grabbed my hand, twisting it up behind my back."
   Melenie winced at the thought.
   Esmeralda told Melenie about how Frollo made it known that he would never give up on his intent to capture her-and how he hinted at his real inner desire. "...just before he finally left, he said 'You've chosen a magnificent prison, but it is a prison nonetheless. Set one foot outside, and you're mine!' Then he slammed the door. Suddenly I felt horribly trapped. Trapped and furious. Furious with Frollo, furious with Paris, furious with the world. I was imprisoned for an indefinite amout of time. Why? Because I had tried to help someone! Why was I living in a world where helping people was a crime?? Why was Frollo allowed to continue percecuting us? Why, why, WHY?????
   "Fed up with these questions, I slumped against the wall and sulked. The Archdeacon soon found me while he was lighting candles. He warned me not to act rashly. Act rashly?? When Frollo was allowing the crowd to go mad torturing Quasimodo, who was the one acting rashly?? I informed him of that, then he said 'You can't right all the wrongs of this world by yourself.' My frustration with the world increased (if that was at all possible) because I knew he was right. However much I was able to accomplish, I was still just one person, and I had no allies in this awful world. I told the Archdeacon 'No one out there's going to help, that's for sure.' He said 'Perhaps there's someone in here who can.' Then he left me to my thoughts."
   "What did you do?" asked Melenie.
   "At first his statement confused me," explained Esmeralda, "I made my way to a hall where I saw all these people with their heads bowed in prayer. At this moment of such bitterness, that sight gave me pause. They had something to bring them hope, something to relieve them of their fears, something to trust in. They had a faith. I almost envied them, for I had nothing like that.
   "I turned around and gazed up at a statue of the Virgin Mary holding her Child. Her face....it almost seemed to be smiling at me, like she knew my troubles."
   Melenie raised her brows skeptically, but she said nothing.
   "After that.....something happened," continued Esmeralda, "I don't know how to describe it...no, I can't decribe it: our earthly vocabulary is far too limited. But something happened...something that made made do something I'd never thought I'd do before.
   "I prayed.
   "I prayed for my people, for the world, for myself. That was my first inkling."
     Melenie nodded.
   "During the events that followed, I began to have more and more inklings. Like...Quasimodo. Immediately after I finished my prayer, I found him listening, and we instantly form a bond. At the time I didn't think of it as an answer to my prayer, but in hindsight it seems like through Quasimodo, God was showing me that someone else did care. I don't know.....anyway, later on, Phoebus..."
   "Phoebus?" interrupted Melenie.
   "No, this isn't what you think!" snapped Esmeralda, "Phoebus refused an order to burn down a mill with the family inside!"
   Melenie's eyes widened. "Is that how he was thrown out of the army??"
   Esmeralda nodded. "It's also how I saved him from execution. He was sentenced to death by beheading, but I enabled him to escape by throwing a rock at Frollo's horse. He almost made it, but an arrow pierced his shoulder and knocked him off a bridge and into the river. I pulled him out. And here, something I never thought possible was occuring. A soldier cared!"
   "So he did have something to do with it!" said Melenie.
   "Not in the sense that you think!" snapped Esmeralda. "Stop interrupting! Through him and through Quasimodo I found assurance that other people cared.
   "I'm not sure exactly when I made the actual decision to convert, but I'm certain it started when I stood on the steps of Notre Dame that glorious morning."
   Melenie well remembered that.
   "The real impossible had occured. I was alive! That alone was unbelievable, but then when I beckoned Quasimodo to come out...and that child approached him...I can't describe it. For the first time in my life, I felt like all was right with the world. Yet, I knew that wasn't true: the world was still far from perfection. But the sight of Quasimodo finally being accepted gave me assurance that there was hope. There was hope for the future, but we would have to work for it. Somehow I sensed that I had been blessed with survival so I could continue to strive for a better world. That's what eventually led me to get baptized."
   Melenie smiled warmly.
   Esmeralda scrunched her face. "I got too dramatic there, didn't I?"
   "No, no, you didn't," said Melenie, "Thank you. I understand better now."
   Esmeralda smiled at her friend, but she still saw a glimmer of worry in her eyes. "Is something else wrong?"
   This was Melenie's chance to ask the other question that had been lingering on her head. "Esmeralda," she said carefully, "I know he didn't make you convert..but do you have any....feelings for Phoebus?"
   Esmeralda gave no answer, but she gave no signs of denial either. She just looked down and started fiddling with her precious little bag.
   "Do you?" Melenie persisted.
   Esmeralda looked up and faced Melenie in the eye. "I haven't lost my virginity," she said firmly, "Rest assured of that. And I will not lose my virginity!"
   "That's good, but that wasn't my question," said Melenie.
   Esmeralda once again was silent and returned to fiddling with her bag.
   Melenie could see she wouldn't get awywhere. Esmeralda would never give a direct answer to this question. But her silence just might be answering for her.
   Melenie reached over and gently touched one of the yellow flowers embroidered on the bag. "You know, my mother sewed these," she said, "She wanted you to have something special to keep that treasure in."
   "I know," Esmeralda said softly. She gazed down at the bag. "Melenie..." she said after a few moments, "did your mother ever tell you about my parents?"
   Melenie smiled sadly. "She didn't, you know that. All I know is what you know."
   "What I know....." Esmeralda repeated. She looked up thoughtfully. "Your mother was married to my father. She never told me who he was: whether he was a gypsy or anything else. He ran around on other women and she left him. Through one of those affairs I was born."
   Melenie nodded. "I don't think my mother knew your father had had a child when she left him."
   "And no one knows what happened to my parents. Or if they do, they haven't told me. For my whole childhood I was passed from family to family."
   "Until my mother found you!" Melenie grinned, "I don't know how she learned you were the daughter of her ex-husband-I think Clopin told her-but she took you in and we became sisters!"
   Esmeralda smiled. "A very brave thing for her to do after she'd remarried and had a child. Why do you think she did it?"
   "I don't know," Melenie shrugged, "Maybe she really did love your father after all and wanted to make it up to him."
   "Or maybe the opposite," said Esmeralda, "Maybe she wanted me to have a better life than he would have given me. I mean, he probably abandoned my mother, whoever she was...."
   "Well that doesn't matter," said Melenie, "I know my parents loved you." She sighed. "I wish we could have been sisters longer."
   Both women were hushed when they remembered the terrible disease that killed Melenie's parents soon after they took Esmeralda in.
   Melenie touched Esmeralda's bag again. "My mother wanted you to have this when you were older, but when she knew she was dying..." She trailed off.
   Esmeralda nodded. "The last time I saw her, she gave this to me and said it would lead me to my family."
   "Do you think it ever will?" asked Melenie.
   Esmeralda sighed. "I don't know. I've had it for twelve years and nothing has happened, and the more time that goes by, the less likly it is that I'll ever find them..."
   "Don't lose faith," said Melenie.
   Esmeralda smiled. "I have no intention to. But even after I find them, you will always be my little sister."
   Melenie awkwardly returned the smile. "If you can call me that." She and Esmeralda were never sure if they could call themselves sisters. After Melenie's parents died, the two girls were seperated. Melenie was sent to live with another family in a different caravan, while it was decided that Esmeralda, being nearly fourteen, was old enough to look out for herself.
   "I wish we could have been sisters longer," Melenie said again.
   "I do too, but we've gotten away from the subject here," said Esmeralda, "Do you feel better about my decision now?"
   Melenie gazed into her friends eyes. "Yes," she said, "Thank you." She leaned over and hugged her. "My caravan's leaving tomorrow. We shall meet again in the spring."
   Esmeralda wrapped her arms around Melenie, and the two remained in that tight embrace for several moments before reluctantly letting go. Melenie rose and slowly made her way towards the tent's entrance, but before she left, she turned and looked back at Esmeralda.
   "I love you, my almost sister," she said.
   Esmeralda smiled and returned those words.

   Outside, Melenie thought about what Esmeralda had said. She still wasn't comfortable with her friend's decision, but at least now she had a little more understanding. Though she didn't know what future might be planned for her friend, or how well the other gypsies would accept her, or what her real feelings for Phoebus were, but one thing was certain. As she gazed at the snow sparkling in the moonlight, she nodded to herself again. She would continue to support her almost sister.

   Wrapped up in her many layers of blankets, Esmeralda's hand kept slipping down to her little bag. The feeling of the flower stitches bumping against her fingers always made her think about her identity. The child of an immoral relationship, with no knowledge of her mother or her father. What kind of man had been unfaithful to her best friend's mother? Who was the unfortunate woman who'd been abandoned with child? Were they even alive? Would she ever know?
   For years had these questions rested on her mind, with only Melenie knowing about them. Perhaps another thing that had led her to be baptized was her longing for an identity. After such a long time, she no longer thought of herself just as a child of an unknown, immoral relationship. Now she was one of God's children.
   It was a wonderful comfort, though she still longed to know about her origin. Perhaps someday she'd find out who she was. Someday. With her faith and her family on her mind, she fell asleep, clutching her bag.

   Phoebus stared up at the mansion. Four stories high, over one hundred rooms, and owned by an old widow with imperfect legs. Many were confused how Annette de Chateaupers' could run this house, but her children weren't. Her children knew that their mother was a strong leader, who, even at sixty-five years old, even after age had deteriorated her legs, ruled with driving force. They would never forget the way she raised them. Not even her son who had been in the army for twenty years would ever forget. After gazing up at the house for a few moments, he knocked on the holly-decorated door and a maid answered.
   The maid recognized him from his last visit right away. "Ah, Monsuier Phoebus! Do come in: the mistress has been waiting for you!" She took his hand and led him into the entrance hall, where she hung up his cloak and then led him into the parlor.
   "Wait here, monsuier," she instructed, "I'll go fetch the mistress."
   Phoebus took a seat on the velvet cushions of one of the chairs. He looked around the parlor-the only room he had seen on his last visit. Nothing had changed, except for the Christmas decorations that now trimmed the room. He soon rose from his seat and made his way to the garland-covered fireplace, above which hung a cherished family portrait painted nearly twenty-eight years ago.
   In the center of the portait sat a dark-haired woman holding an infant girl who was barely a year old in her lap. On the woman's left stood a 13-year-old girl with light brown hair pulled back in a neat bun and a proud expression, and on the woman's left stood a 9-year-old girl with curly black hair and a wide smile. And behind the woman stood a tall fair-haired man with a gruff expression holding an infant boy, barely a year old.
   Phoebus thought about how much he had studied that picture when he was young. It was the only record of what his deceased father looked like. How often had he hoped to get some memory back, all in vain. He knew every detail of the portrait by heart, but the man in the back might as well have been a stranger from a faraway land. He knew this was his father, but he'd never felt any real inner connection to the man in the painting. But then again, he'd never felt any real inner connection to the baby the man was holding, either.
   "Phoebus?"
   He turned to find an old woman with silver-streaked black hair and narrow blue eyes standing in the doorway. Despite her age and her arthritic legs, the woman stood tall and proud. She often wore a stern expression, but at moments like this it would melt away and be replaced by a warm smile. Her bad legs ment she needed a cane to help her walk, but people often forgot that. Indeed, many said Annette de Chateaupers' carried her cane as lightly as a young adventurer would carry his walking stick.
   They were right. At a moment like this it was particually difficult to believe she didn't have full use of her legs. She practically ran up to her son and gathered him in a tight hug.
   "Mother," Phoebus murmured, hugging her back.
   After a lingering moment, Annette pulled back to examine her son's face. "I still can't get over how much you've grown," she said, kissing his cheek.
   "Neither can I," said Phoebus, gazing down at the face he once gazed up at.
   "Come dear, follow me," said Annette, "Your brother and sisters are waiting for you in the dining hall."
The mother led the son up a flight of steps and down a long hallway. He couldn't pay any attention to the holiday decor, or the numerous paintings on the walls, or the fine furniture, no, not with the thought that the siblings whom he hadn't seen since he was a boy were waiting for him. I'm coming, Minerva!! he thought. The familiar image of that spunky little girl with the beautiful blue eyes danced around in his head. She would be a woman now, of course, but he had no doubt that his twin would still have her same spunk.
   Finally Annette opened the doors to the large dining hall. Three women and three men rose from their seats to greet the mistress and the guest.
   Then there was absolute silence. The people at the table exchanged great stares with their brother. It sank into everyone's heads that twenty years had passed since their last encounter. And yet, somehow, Phoebus had a pretty sure feeling who everyone was.
   The woman on the end couldn't be anyone but Diana: her brown hair was still up in a neat bun, and her nose still hung in the air with a haughty expression. Next to Diana stood her husband, Eric, whom she had married soon before Phoebus joined the army.
   The woman on Eric's other side was definitely Thalia. Her black curls still bounced around her shoulders, and she still wore a wide grin. Phoebus reasoned the man next to her must be Luke, the man Annette had been trying to persuade Thalia to marry. Apparantly she suceeded.
   Next to Luke, Ulysses still appeared as shy and timid as he was at five years old. On his left stood a heavily pregnant woman whom Phoebus didn't recognize. He reasoned his little brother must have gotten married, most likly at his mother's insistance.
   Though much time had gone by, personalites hadn't changed. Like her usual dominating self, Diana was the one to break the silence.
   "It is so good to see you again, Phoebus!" she said with a smile, "How we've missed you!" She turned to the man next to her. "You remember Eric, do you not?"
   "Yes I do, Diana," said Phoebus.
   "And I remember you," sneered Eric, eyeing his brother-in-law, "The little boy who hid our wedding rings in the cooking pot!"
   "Well I'm beyond that now," assured Phoebus.
   "I should hope so!" said Thalia, "I never did get that dress fixed, you know!"
   "I know," grinned Phoebus. He turned to the man next to her. "Ah, did Mother finally convince you to marry Luke?"
   "Yes, and for your information, we are very happy together!" said Luke. He turned to his wife. "Aren't we, my dear?"
   "Yes honey, we are," said Thalia.
   "You haven't settled down yet, have you, Phoebus?" asked Diana.
   "No," said Phoebus, "Not yet."
   "Ah, but you should!" said Diana, "It would do you a world of good. I don't know how I'd survive without Eric and our fine children."
   "Children?" asked Phoebus with a raised brow.
   Diana glared at him. "You really haven't been kept up to date on the family's status, have you?" She looked down. "Come on sweetie, you know it's improper to hide under tables. Come on out and meet your uncle."
   A little girl of about nine slowly peeked out from under the table. Diana coaxed the girl to her feet and turned her to face Phoebus.
   "Rachel," Diana said to the girl, "this is your uncle, Phoebus. You haven't met him because he joined the army before you were born." She turned to Phoebus. "This is your niece, Rachel."
   Rachel silently looked up at him for a moment, then her head darted to the floor.
   "Forgive her," Diana said, annoyed, "She's shy of strangers."
   "I understand," said Phoebus. He knelt down next to the girl and smiled. "Hello Rachel," he said gently.
   Rachel wouldn't answer.
   Phoebus persisted. "I'm your uncle, Phoebus."
   Still no answer.
   He tried one last time. "It means 'sun god.'"
   The girl finally spoke. "My mother's the moon goddess," she said timidly.
   "I know," said Phoebus, "That's why we're related."
   "She's also the goddess of the hunt," Rachel continued, "Although I don't see why: she never goes hunting! Father's taken me hunting a few times. I suppose you go hunting a lot, since you're a soldier. Mother's told me about you. Were you really Captain of the Guard?"
   "Yes indeed I was," said Phoebus. He offered his hand. "How about it, would you like to shake hands with a captain?"
   Rachel laughed and shook her uncle's hand, then he rose to his feet.
   "Goodness, you have a way with children!" exclaimed Thalia, "My three boys always drive me mad!"
   "And where are your boys?" asked Phoebus.
   "They're in the other room with their nanny," explained Thalia, "They're too young to eat with the adults."
   Phoebus turned to Diana. "What about your other children?" he asked, "Are they also with their nanny?"
   "Oh no," said Diana, "My only other child is Jonah, and he's sixteen years old."
   "Then where is he?"
   "Unfortunatly, Jonah is unable to be with us," explained Diana, "He's been enlisted in the army."
   "Yes," said Rachel, "My brother's a soldier like you!"
   Phoebus hid his disappointment.
   "I don't have any children yet," said Ulysses, speaking for the first time. He took the hand of the woman next to him. "But my Danelle is in her seventh month!"
   Danelle just giggled.
   Phoebus silently surveyed the room again. An uneasy feeling built up. Someone was missing.
   "Where is Minerva?" he asked.
   A collective gasp went through the room. Everyone stared at him with horrified faces.
   "You...you haven't heard?" Thalia said faintly.
   "Haven't heard what?"
   "Phoebus," Annette said suddenly, "can I talk to you privatly?" Without waiting for an answer, she took her son's hand and led him out of the room.
   "What's this all about??" Phoebus said with distress.
   Annette sat him down on a bench in the hallway. "Phoebus..." she said hesitantly, "there was something I ment to....to tell you on our last visit....but I couldn't bring myself to say it."
   Phoebus pushed all alarms out of his head and glared at his mother. "Where is Minerva??" he demanded in a steady voice.
   Annette took a deep breath and looked into her son's eyes.
   "She died ten years ago."

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