| Chapter Two Reims, France ~ April 20th, 1917 �Red�ni�n�� Sara struggled with the words, as Satine shuffled behind her into her cozy, yellow painted room. �Nightgown, darling,� Satine helped her daughter. �Night�gowndar�ling!� Sara shrieked happily. Satine laughed sweetly at Sara�s attempts, and lifted her into her bed. She then walked over to Sara�s drawer, happily listening to Sara�s content gurgles. Satine sifted through the items in her daughter�s night gown drawer, finding the red one. She took hold of it, and sighed as she looked out the window onto the setting sun. Another memory made its way into Satine mind� Once, when night seemed forever, I was with you. Reims, France ~ June 5th, 1914 Right as the sun was peeking over the horizon; Christian stepped outside in his robe and yawned. His arms stretched over his head as he breathed in the new day. It took everything in him to leave Satine asleep in their bed even for a few minutes, because all he had done for the last hour was stare at her in awe. He never ceased to find her beauty enthralling, especially while she was with child. Her appearance seemed glowing in Christian�s eyes. Christian began walking casually to the mailbox at the end of the dirt path. He put his hands in his pockets, looking at the sky, admiring the perfection just as the sun arose. He reached the mailbox, and opened it, leaning a bit to peek inside. There were three letters. Christian took them from the box, and flipped through them as he turned around and began his walk back to the house. The first was a letter from Satie at the Moulin Rouge, seeing how they were. Christian smiled as he remembered the kind nature of the man. The second was a reply from a publishing company that Satine convinced Christian to send some of his poetry to. They explained in a business-like format that they received his work, and was now in a large pile of work to be read and evaluated. Christian thought to himself, �I told Satine it wasn�t a good idea�� So, he moved that letter to the bottom of the pile as he continued making his way towards the front door. He then saw who the next letter was from, and he stopped dead in his tracks. Martha James 1257 Lorring St. London, England Christian hadn�t heard from his sister in approximately 16 years. She was 10 years old when he had left for France, so that meant she was 26 years old. He waited until he was inside the house to carefully open the letter, and sit down at the kitchen table. The birds chirped outside, as the sunrays began creeping through the window just enough to give Christian some reading light. Dear Chris, Hello. I know it has been a long time, but I need to tell you some things. I�m sorry we haven�t been as close as we both wanted to be, but it seemed as if things didn�t lead us down that path. First of all, I hope you are doing well. I lived away for a while when you were in France, but I returned home to Papa last year in 1913. I�ve changed, Christian. I�ve been making and selling clothes for a living, and it really is something I love. But enough about me, I want to get to why I wrote this letter. There�s a person in my life who I care deeply about. His name is Thomas Hathaway. He�s fighting in the war, and I haven�t heard from him in a long time, and I�ve grown worried beyond belief. He used to write me letters every day, and now I don�t receive them at all anymore. There�s not a way of reaching him. Christian, he needs to know something that you need to know as well. I�m pregnant. If he doesn�t find out, and if something were to happen to him, I don�t think I could live with myself. If you go and fight in the war, there�s a chance you could find Thomas and tell him that he�s going to have a child. Christian, this would mean more than the world to me if you would go and fight with Thomas. Thank you, and please write me back with news of you and your life in France. I love you, and I never stopped thinking of you. Your sister, Martha Christian took a deep breath, and set the letter down on the table. He rubbed his temples and closed his eyes, thinking hard about the decision he had to make. |