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“Oh,” said Amelie.

Marcel put down his teacup. “What?”

“I know where she is,” replied Amelie softly. “Put on your boots, you two. We can walk there.”

The village graveyard was in a peaceful tract of land near the forest. Simple and elegant headstones, hewn by the local stonemason, dotted the grassy clearing. The trio found Colette sitting crosslegged at the foot of their mother and father’s graves, staring glassy-eyed at the matching headstones. A colorful bouquet of fresh wildflowers lay in the center.

Colette roused as she heard her siblings approach.

“Good morning,” she said with a small smile. “Sorry to slip out so early. I didn’t want to wake anyone.”

“It’s alright,” said Amelie, kneeling at her side. “It was a nice idea to come here.”

The men knelt too, Raphael patting Colette on the shoulder.

They all gazed at the gravestones. Of the siblings, Amelie had always visited the cemetery the least—especially since their father died. Not because she did not care, but because it was too painful.

More specifically, she could not bear to ponder the mutual loss they experienced. To see them buried here, reunited only in silence and dirt, was intolerable to her. It made her heart want to cry.

She preferred to honor her parents by thinking about them, speaking about them, reading their books, and living as they had taught her. Nevertheless, she was plagued by guilt for avoiding their graves. A good daughter would visit more often, she told herself.

“They would be so happy for you, Colette,” said Marcel, wiping his eyes. “They will be with you when you walk down the aisle and say your vows.”

Raphael nodded. “They loved you very much. I know they would approve of Laughlin.”

“Do you suppose they are together now?” asked Colette, sniffling. “Are they in the Beyond?”

“I believe so,” said Raphael.

Marcel murmured his agreement.

Colette gently prodded Amelie. “What do you think?”

“I think Mama waited all the years for him,” replied Amelie, her voice wavering. “It breaks my heart to think of it, to be truthful. But I believe they are as one now, yes.”

She put her arm around Colette and they rested their heads together.

“They would want you to be true to your feelings,” said Colette after some time. “They would not want you to lose love for being afraid to lose it. That is not living.”

Amelie lifted her head. “I am not afraid.”

“Aren’t you?” asked Colette, her eyes still on the graves. “There is more to courage than picking up a sword, you know. You say you want adventure. What greater adventure exists than love?”

“When did this become about me?” grumbled Amelie, leaning back against her sister.

“I am only saying what I believe they’d wish you to hear, except you always refuse to listen. Losing Mama and Papa hurt all of us, but it is not a reason to avoid love. Our parents would want you to be happy. And so do I.”

“Well, I am hearing you now. But I can assure you that you do not know half of what happened between Davron and me, if that’s what you are getting at. Can we please just concentrate on you today? It is your wedding, after all.”

Amelie was uncomfortable with this turn in the conversation. But perhaps, she reflected, the discomfort was a sign that Colette’s words held some truth.

Did Amelie fear love? Was she so scarred by her parents’ doomed union that she would avoid committing to a union of her own, without even realizing it? Was that what happened? She did not feel scarred, and her connection with Davron was far more complicated than fear of vulnerability and commitment. Wasn’t it?

“Alright.” Colette wiped tears from her cheeks and stood. “Shall we return to the house? We have a wedding to put on.”

Back at the house, the four diverged into barely contained chaos to get everything ready. They arranged flowers, plated canapés, polished champagne flutes, and hung lanterns from the trees for the evening reception. Raphael placed chairs in rows under the sycamore tree in the backyard, where the afternoon ceremony would be held. The horses munched on grass nearby in the shade, watching the action with mild interest.

Amelie had been home for nearly a week and most of the intervening time had been spent in a whirlwind of wedding preparations, yet there still seemed to be endless tasks to complete. Every time one task was completed, another would materialize out of thin air. Toward lunchtime, a welcome influx of Laughlin’s cousins arrived to help, at which point Amelie spirited Colette upstairs to begin transforming her into a bride.