Linnaeus the Living Statue: Part Three (complete)

It’s been years since Annemieke became a popular artist within the hidden world that Robin showed us. She has been working tirelessly at her art ever since, creating some of the most astounding pieces I have ever seen. There is no way to truly compare art - it would be cruel to even try. But I do believe Annemieke has surpassed her father in every way. 

We’re able to live comfortably, and have kept the old studio as our home. Despite our influx of wealth, we live like we always have. We see  no need for extravagance, although we take vacations on Robin’s suggestion to places where I can fit in.

It isn’t until Kasper passes away that I experience loss. I had been alive for only a short while when he came into our lives, and it felt as if I had known him forever. His passing made me feel broken and it’s even begun to show on my body. Tiny fissures have appeared along my arms and chest, and Annemieke tends to them the same way she did my face.

“What do I do?” I ask her. “I don’t know how to handle this, I don’t…” I stop and cover my face, and I hear the tiny chirping sound of more cracks appearing.

Annemieke lays her hand over my chest where my heart would be. Her warmth feels so wonderful, the cracks stop stinging. As I look at her, I realize she is like Kasper too. It had not occurred to me before that I could possibly lose her. Annemieke is human, temporary, and I will someday have to say goodbye to her the same way I bid farewell to Kasper.

I grasp her hand tightly. “Time is too fast!” I exclaim. “How do I make it slow down? How can I stop it?”

Annemieke’s eyes are gentle as she gazes at me. Her soft palm moves over the face she made for me, and she smiles. “You enjoy it,” she whispers. Her thumb smoothes over my lips. “That’s all you can do. There is no magic on earth that can stop it, so you treasure it.”

I lean down, pressing my forehead against hers. “But some people’s time is so much shorter than others.” I put my arms around her. “How do I live knowing that?”

“Linnaeus...” Her voice catches. “I don’t know what to say, but what you can do is keep that love in your heart.” She presses her palm to my chest again. “The love you had for Kasper will always be a part of you. If you hold on to it, you keep him alive with you forever.”

I shudder, but I nod my head. “I see.” I slowly pull away from Annemieke and smile at her. “It still doesn’t solve the fact that he… that Kasper isn’t here?” I look around the room Kasper’s favorite bed is in the corner, and some of his toys are scattered about.

“That’s where the grief is.” Annemieke takes my hand. “We miss him, and there is no getting around that if we love him.”

“I see.” I breathe heavily. I really don’t. How can I ever grasp the scope of such a thing, especially if one day it will be her? But as she says, I grieve and, with time, I am slowly able to move past it. 

Once I am ready, Annemieke gets me a new kitten, a little runt of a thing, all black and with too-big ears. I name him Duncan. He grows long and lean, with the strangest little face and fangs like a vampire. I struggle with the decision to get a new cat at first. I had Kasper for so long, and it hurt so badly when he passed. But Duncan is remarkable, sweet and cuddly, even though he looks like Nosferatu on a bad night. Duncan enjoys sitting in Annemieke’s lap when she paints. I often find paint splatters on his shiny black fur, but he doesn’t seem to mind as long as he gets cuddles.

One afternoon, I catch Annemieke rubbing her eyes in the bathroom. She tugs down her eyelid and looks inside before rubbing it again.

“Is something wrong?” I ask.

She looks up at me and smiles. Her eyes look a little puffy, but maybe she got paint in them or something. “Oh, I’m fine. Just a bit dry is all.” She steps from the bathroom towards me. “Nothing to worry about, love.”

A few weeks later, I catch her staring at a canvas she is working on. Her face is extremely close to it and she paints much more delicately than normal. Suddenly she leans away in frustration. She tosses aside her palette and kicks the easel out from under the canvas, which falls to the ground facedown. Then she gasps, picking up the canvas from the ground. Everything has been smeared and ruined from the fall. She starts to sob.

I rush into the room and kneel beside her. “What’s the matter? What happened?”

She looks at me, eyes blurry with tears. They still look a bit puffy. “I don’t know,” she whimpers to me. “Linnaeus, I-”

I wrap her in my arms and hold her head against my shoulder. She sobs a bit more as she clings to me. After a while, I make her some tea while she sits at the kitchen table. Watching her from the stove, I see how she picks at her fingers. She squints, then gazes out the window. As I set her tea on the table, she looks back at me.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” I sit down and take her hand. “Everything. Don’t sugarcoat it.”

Annemieke slouches and rubs her hand over her face. “It’s my eyes,” she confesses weakly. “I...” She laughs shamefully. Sniffling, she takes her tea into her hand. “I’m having trouble seeing lately.”

I tilt my head to the side as I watch her. I know there is more to it than that. If it was just a vision problem, she would be suggesting glasses like her father had. This is something else, and I know she is burying the lead.

“Does it hurt?” I press her. “You said a while back they were dry. Is it something like that? Is it just blurriness, or is it something else? Tell me, Annemieke, please. If there is something really wrong, we should know.”

Annemieke sucks in a deep breath. “I do get headaches, and that’s when my vision gets worse. Things get shaky and my eyes start jittering back and forth.” She sweeps her finger to and fro before her. “Like a bouncy ball caught between two walls. Then everything will just kind of get foggy. Not blurry, but like I’m looking through a thin sheet on a clothesline.” She looks over me. “I’ve never had a cat with fur before… I thought maybe it was allergies.”

“Allergies!” I scoff. “I don’t think allergies would make your eyes bounce around.” I try not to laugh at all. “This sounds serious. Annemieke, you need to see a doctor about this.”

“But what if it’s…” she starts to argue, but stops herself. She seems to collapse in on herself. “But what if it really is serious? Linnaeus, what if I’m sick?”

“Then I’ll take care of you.” I place my hand over hers. “And I always will. There is no question in that.” I slip my fingers under her chin and lift her head up. “It’s okay to be afraid, but as long as I’m around, I will do everything in my power to take care of you. You won’t be alone.”

Annemieke lets out a sob as she nods. “I know.” She takes a deep breath and stiffens her shoulders again. “I’ll…” She swallows. “I’ll make an appointment.”

“Please,” I say. “It could be allergies. Maybe it’s something that can be easily caught in time.” I give her a big smile. “It’ll be okay regardless.”

She nods. “Yeah, you’re right.” She wipes the tears from her face. “Thank you.”

“It’s my job to make you feel better.” I kiss her forehead and brush her hair from her face. “But you have to tell me when you’re afraid sometimes. I can’t always catch you beating up a painting.”

Annemieke shakes her head as she exhales loudly. “I can’t believe I did that,” she grumbles. “I was getting so frustrated, but I… I’ll have to start over.”

I think she means the painting, but I also feel like there’s something deeper in her words. It’s as if she believes she has to start from the bottom again with her artwork. 

A few weeks later, Annemieke has her doctor’s appointment. Robin refers her to his brother, Puck, who runs a few tests. In the meantime, he gives Annemieke a prescription for medication that should help her with the headaches. 

“Any idea what it could be?” Annemieke asks him. “I mean, even a hint?” She laughs, trying to breathe some lightness into the situation.

“I don’t want to make any assumptions,” Puck replies. He has a serious, almost terrifying gaze, with steel-colored eyes. He feels like some immovable object made of rage. “I don’t want to worry you too much, nor do I want to make light of anything and get your hopes up. Like with most illness, this is something that should be treated seriously, no matter what.” He sets his charts aside and takes off his gloves. “Eyes are not my specialty, but I know what I’m doing. I’m a fan of your work as well - I would hate to lose it - but I’m not going to sugarcoat things, Miss.”

“Missus,” she corrects him quickly. “We’re married.”

Puck glances at me, then smiles. “Yes, I’m sorry.” He sits back down in front of Annemieke. “I suggest you take things easy. Don’t do things that could strain your eyes. No TV, audiobooks at best, large print at worst. Take time for yourself, maybe even take a trip. Spend some time together.”

I squeeze Annemieke’s shoulders. “Dr. Puck, just tell us. Do you think it’s bad?”

He looks at me with those knifelike eyes, and I suck in my breath. I am made of ceramic but I still feel sliced through. “I told you, I think it’s serious. I pride myself on not being wrong but I often can be.” He hands Annemieke the prescription. “Once in the morning and one at night. Your usual headache medication in between, but only if needed.” Then he gives me a stern look. “Take care of her but don’t spoil her. And take my advice - you’ll enjoy some time off. I’ll finish up these tests and call you when they’re ready.”

Once we return home, Annemieke immediately goes to her studio and starts setting up a new painting. 

“Remember what he said!” I scold her. “Don’t do anything that strains your eyes. Let’s go upstairs and I can read to you for a bit.”

“Everything strains them these days.” Annemieke scoffs as she brings out her paints. “I want to do this while I still can.”

“You’re always going to be able to!” I come up beside her as she fixes her station and starts mixing paints. “Even if the worst were to happen, you’d still paint.”

Annemieke squeezes a tube of paint too hard as she looks up at me. “What is the worst? Huh?!” she barks. She slams down the tube of paint on the ground. “What would be the worst thing, Linnaeus? Say it out loud! Tell me! Now!”

I am a statue, but I don’t think I have ever been this still before. I breathe in a cold, aching breath that makes my neck feel as though it is shattering, and look into her eyes, angry and terrified as they fill with tears. 

“Say it!” Her voice cracks.

“Even if you go blind,” I whisper, “you will always be able to paint.”

Annemieke wilts and puts her head in her hands. “What would be the point? How could I paint? How could I even do anything close to what I love if I can’t see, Linnaeus?” she whimpers. Her shoulders tremble, and she rakes her nails down her arms.

“That may not be what happens.” I pry her hands away and hold them tight. “We don’t know yet. All the doctor said was that he was treating it seriously.” I shake my head. “I won’t stop you from painting, ever. And I won’t allow you to stop just because you feel defeated. I’ll be your eyes, I’ll be your ears, I’ll even be your damn feet if that is what it comes down to. But I will not ever let you give up. Understand?”

Annemieke nods her head. “I’m so scared.” She looks up at me. “I don’t want to do this.”

“I don’t want you to either.” I hug her close and run my fingers through her hair. “But I don’t doubt you can’t handle this. If you can love me, then you can do anything.”

Annemieke sputters as she starts to laugh. “Be serious.”

“I am,” I smile. “Extremely serious.” I wipe my thumb under her eyes. “I am a statue, Annemieke, there is no hiding that. You love me regardless, and you took care of me when we first met. You could have run away, but instead you stayed by my side because you knew I needed you. And I did.” I take her into my arms. “I needed you more than I would ever admit. I still do.”

“Linnaeus,” Annemieke sobs into my chest.

I kiss the top of her head. “You stay with me, for as long as possible. Even if I do have to be your feet.” 

Annemieke nods. “Okay,” she sniffles. “I’ll try.”

I dip my head down and kiss her, feeling those soft, warm lips against mine. “Thank you,” I breathe and kiss her again. “Thank you.”

Annemieke pulls away slightly. “Can I paint now?”

I nod. “Of course. I can’t stop you there, but if your eyes start to hurt…”

She nods. “I know.” She wipes more tears from her face. “I’ll stop and I’ll go upstairs and rest.” She smiles brightly at me, and I see the young girl I first laid eyes on so long ago. It feels like it took only an instant to get here, but now those first few moments are an eternity ago. 

That evening, I watch Annemieke as she takes her first dose of medicine. She places the bottle in the cabinet and closes it, taking a look at herself in the mirror. She sighs heavily, then turns to look at me in the doorway.

“Maybe we should talk about a trip,” she says with a smile. “Like Dr. Puck suggested.” She goes into the bedroom and sits down on the edge of the bed, looking up at me with those wide, fragile eyes. “We can ask Robin to suggest somewhere we can go. Maybe we can go to that snow cabin of his again. You liked it there.”

I sit down beside her. “I only liked it because you were always cold and cuddling up with me.” I put my arm around her, and she leans into my side. “I liked it for my own selfish reasons.”

“I don’t mind that.” Annemieke kisses my cheek. “You can be selfish again.”

I take her hand and kiss the center of her palm. “There is still some paint under your nails. Let me clean that out for you.” I get out my kit and work on chipping away the paint under her nails. We sit in comfortable silence, and I take my time with each finger.

“I know this may sound corny,” I murmur. “But I have always wanted to go to Paris.” I set the small flat tool aside and take a file to her nails. “I want to go to the Louvre with you.”

Annemieke chuckles. “It might not be all it’s cracked up to be. Not to mention it’s always crowded. How would we ever sneak you in?”

“Robin has his ways. And besides, I’ve always wanted to go through a museum with you.”

“But you have,” she grins.

I shake my head, “Underground ones, fairy ones. I mean sure, they’re all museums in their own right. But that’s different. I want to be seen with you, Annemieke.”

She leans forward and presses a kiss to my lips. “I want to be seen with you too.”

Robin handles the travel plans for us, hiring a ship to take us across the sea to Europe. I’ve never really questioned Robin, or his connections and wealth. Before the trip, I clean the studio as thoroughly as I possibly can. Over the years, we have let things sort of pile up around us, and they were already quite disorganized before. Annemieke has really taken to painting, I suppose out of fear, and she is so focused on it, I decide keep myself busy.

I find all sorts of forgotten objects in my new endeavour. I set them aside so that Annemieke can look through them for anything she wants to keep. There are lots of old things from her father’s days in the studio - small sketches, quickly-written notes on scraps of paper. Nothing big, but personal flourishes that might make Annemieke smile with nostalgia. Duncan follows me around the studio, swatting bugs and spiders.

While I work around the unwieldly storage wardrobe, Duncan crosses paths with a particularly ornery beetle. The two of them are locked in a duel for a long time, while I sort out a massive box of old sketchbooks. They seem to belong to Annemieke’s father, and to come from a time when he was a young man only interested in doodling cartoonish pornography. 

Duncun is cornered by the valiant knight beetle and has squirmed his way behind the wardrobe. The beetle, unwilling to back down, continues to chase Duncan. As Duncan hisses and arches his back, he knocks loose something that was wedged behind the wardrobe. A thick envelope falls to the ground as Duncan skitters around the beetle.

I pick up the envelope. It has Annemieke’s father’s handwriting scrawled across the front: “The Gentleman”. This was the title he gave me. I open it up. Inside are detailed drawings and schematics of me, when I was just an idea. There are various poses for me, and several small lists in the margins of what material I could be made out of. There is a sheet of watercolor paper that features my first rough draft, painted in details to match what I would look like completely finished. 

On the back of the watercolor, there is a paragraph of text. “This is to be a gift to my daughter. Some sort of figure to leave to dust in her corners or carry her coats one day. It is not something I ever expected to make, as I have never really considered myself a sculptor, unless my hands needed to be kept busy. It was not fate or creative pride that led me to this new project, but merely a desire for my daughter to feel protected. Even if this statue becomes a coat rack, I want it to be a figure of grace, regality, and strength that can act as grotesques once did for the church. I want this gentleman to be there even when I cannot. Silly dreams of a father, I know. I cannot pick the people in her life, nor the perfect mate for her, but this is my vision of who would be perfect for her.”

There are several other notes in the envelope, including swatches of blue paint and lists of various glazes. On the last sheet is what looks like a recipe, in different handwriting. As I read over it, I realize it is the enchantment he used to bring me to life. 

“What have you found?”

Annemieke’s voice makes me gasp, and I nearly drop everything. I gather the envelope to my chest, then look at her and back down. “Well, um…”

“Sorry, did I scare you?” Annemieke kneels beside me. She watches as Duncan skitters out, raising up on his hind legs before running away from the beetle. “Better yet, what’s up with him?” She sits down on the floor as Duncan uses her as a human shield.

I look down at my arms, then offer the envelope to her. “I found my inception.”

I watch her expectantly as she takes the small stack of papers. She tucks her hair behind her ear, then begins to study each page. “Where did you find this?” Annemieke whispers.

I motion to Duncan. “It was stuck behind the wardrobe.” I continue to keep an eye on her. “He knocked it loose.”

Annemieke smiles as she looks over the watercolor. “Always handsome, weren’t you?” She holds up the painting to me for comparison. “Different face though.”

“Face lift,” I chuckle.

Her smile grows bigger. “Was it a face lift?” she teases. She flips it over to read the note on the back. The phone rings. “I’ll get it,” she grunts as she stands up, placing the unearthed envelope aside. She goes to fetch the phone while I take the recipe card again.

“Dr. Puck, hi.” 

I look up instantly at these words.

“Oh…” she murmurs. “Yes, yes of course.” 

I stand and go to the end of the hallway where I see Annemieke on the phone. She looks up at me and it is hard to ignore how terrified she looks. “When can we come in?”

Rushing to her side, I take hold of her hand. 

“Yes.” Her bottom lip trembles. “Okay, thank you.” She hangs up the phone and turns cautiously to me. “He has the results in. He wants us to come right away.”

Sitting in Dr. Puck’s office, I try to keep my chin up and remain positive for her. I can see her withering as the dread she has held settles upon her shoulders like the world on Atlas. I slip my arms around her, and she turns to smile at me. “It will be okay,” she whispers. “I’m just relieved to know something.”

Puck walks into the room and looks between us as he takes a deep breath. “I’m glad you could come so fast.” He pulls up a chair and sits before us. “I am afraid I don;t have the good news you are hoping for. I’m so sorry.”

Annemieke nods. “I thought as much.” She steadies herself and swallows hard. “What is it then? What can you tell us?”

“It’s degenerative,” he answers. “It’s probably been happening for a while now, but you just haven’t noticed. Luckily for you, it is happening very slowly. For a lot of others, it can start as early as elementary school. We can stave it off a while longer with some medication and treatments, but…” He hesitates and lowers his head. “You will go blind, Annemieke.”

Annemieke takes a deep breath of her own. “Not the end of the world, is it?” She plasters on a smile and tries to laugh. “Just blindness, could be worse. People are perfectly happy all over without their sight. Lord knows there are some sights I won’t miss!” Her laughter is broken by a sob, and she ducks her head down. “Not the end of the world, is it?”

“It is still frightening,” Puck replies. “And you have every right to be scared. You still have time, though - lots of it. You can start preparing yourself now for when it happens.”

“How long?” I ask. “With medications and treatments, how long can you say?”

Puck exhales heavily. “Anything could happen. But as things stand now, total blindness may occur around ten years at the most, five years at the least.”

“Five years.” Annemieke nods. “That’s good. That’s great.”

“Could be ten,” I try to add in chipperly. 

“Could be five,” Annemieke takes hold of my hand. “We have to stay grounded. We can’t get our hopes too high.”

I sigh and press my forehead against hers. “I know.”

Puck gets us set up with monthly appointments, which will start after our trip. He also gives us information we can start looking up now to prepare ourselves. As we get ready to leave for Paris, Annemieke doesn’t take up her painting once. She constantly looks to her canvases, but she does not touch them.

In Paris, Robin has everything ready for us. He even gives me a charm that allows me to wear a Glamour around Paris, something the fairies use to hide their true appearance and look normal to humans. It gives Annemieke and I a good laugh when I first try it on.

“Oh, this is weird!” Annemieke giggles on the boat. She touches my face, then runs her fingers through my curly blue hair. “Oh no, no, I don’t like it!”

“Neither do I!” I cackle. “I feel so self-conscious! How do you cope?”

“I’m just used to it.” Annemieke pulls me in for a kiss. “It’s only for Paris, thank god!”

“Is it that bad?” I cup my hands around my face.

“No, just… different.” She smiles. “I love the real you.”

I smile at her, kissing her again. “I love you too.”

In Paris, we get to forget for a while. As we stroll the hidden gems that Robin has pointed us to, even in the crowded Louvre, we manage to enjoy our trip entirely. But at the same time, we miss home.

Once return to the studio, we find it so quiet. Duncan is being kept by Eira and Robin, and they will bring him home tomorrow. Annemieke and I settle into bed, and I put the charm which holds my Glamour away.

As we lie in bed, I take her into my arms. She’s tired, but she begs me for my touch, one we haven’t shared in so long. I give into her soft voice, her needy sighs, and make love to her. I move my fingers inside her while she clings to me, her desperate voice echoing in my mind. I do as she wants, indulging in the intimacy of it. I hold her for as long as she wants me to, and until she falls asleep naked in my arms. 

I kiss her temple as she sleeps and say a silent prayer over her. I want her to be given ten years, I want her to be given even more. I do not want to lose her at all. I think beyond her sight and what will happen when it leaves her. I think further into the future, where I might not have her anymore.

As time goes on, Annemieke has good days and bad days. Some days it’s as if nothing is wrong at all. On the darker days, I notice she keeps her head down and eyes closed. She is learning how to deal with it, and taking classes to prepare, but she is still terrified. As am I. 

Puck’s medications help, but it sometimes feels like Annemieke’s body is working against her. We are lucky when five years come and go, and she still has her vision. But as year six ends, her right eye gives up the fight. Her left eye is strong and, for another two years, she has it. We almost make it to ten.

Annemieke is prepared at this point, but I never truly was. I am in agony, but I promised her at the start that I would always be her eyes. I help her and, together, we figure out ways to work around the handicap. Annemieke is strong, she soon has the house memorized from top to bottom with no issue. It takes a while, but we get used to it.

One day she comes to me, tapping my shoulder. “Can you help me paint?”

I set up her palette, placing the colors as if they are numbers on a clock. Then I sit beside her, managing her brushes and describing to her what I see.

“Duncuan has a little white on his muzzle now,” I tell her. “Little flecks here and there.”

“He’s going white?” She sighs. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“He’s still a kitten,” I laugh. “Over a little. You’re drifting.”

Annemieke adjusts her wrist, and she’s able to find exactly where she’s going. “How is it?” she asks cautiously.

It’s beautiful, like always. A bit more rustic in appearance than her old work, but still as full of soul as the other paintings. “Robin will want it for sure.”

“This isn’t for Robin,” she says with a smile. “I’m painting this for you.”

“I have so much,” I sigh. “Let one of the poor people have it.”

Annemieke reaches out and finds my face with her fingertips. She places a soft kiss on my lips. “I’m trying to make things for you while I can. I feel like I haven’t done enough.”

“You’ve done more than enough.”

In the twentieth year, Annemieke gets sick. Puck does all he can, but he is afraid that there is not much else he can do. At this point, we no longer have years left. Months at most, weeks if we are lucky. I make Annemieke comfortable at home, and Duncan sleeps beside her to keep her warm. Each day I am lucky to have her, but it feels like more and more rope is slipping from my grasp. I try to hold on to it, but it feels as though my fingers are breaking off. 

One afternoon as the sun is warm, I open up the window to let some of the fresh air inside. Annemieke takes a deep breath in and lets it out slowly. I stand beside her, watching her lashes flutter for a moment and then go still.

I kiss her forehead. “I’ll see you when you wake up,” I whisper to her. 

Duncan jumps off the bed and goes back downstairs. I sit on the edge of the bed and hold my head in my hands. I start to cry. Then I remember the recipe card that was in all my inception papers. I find it quickly, but as I stand there reading over the enchantment, my heart sinks. Would it even work? She was human, not a made statue. Even if it does somehow work, could I save her? Would she want to be saved?

I sink to my knees, crying over the spell. 

I hear creaking on the stairs, but I figure it is Duncan. I get up and try to get my head on straight.

“Linnaeus? What’s the matter?” The voice is soft and bright. 

I turn and see her standing behind me at the foot of the stairs. She tilts her head to the side. “I woke up and you weren’t there.”

My mouth hangs open agape. She’s young and beautiful again, only she is made of the same material as me. 

“No, wait,” Annemieke gasps as she looks around. “I must be dreaming, this isn’t right. Is it?” She walks up to me and, as she takes hold of my hands, she understands. She looks over her palms and then stares at me, her mouth hanging open.

“I must be dreaming!” Annemieke nearly yells in alarm.

“No, no,” I shake my head. “I must be dreaming.”

Annemieke frowns. “We can’t both be dreaming, can we?”

I touch her face, running my hand down the smooth porcelain of her youthful features. There is a crack on her cheek where there had been a scar. There is even her dimple worked into the porcelain. It is her. 

I kiss her, pressing in close, and our skin chimes from the contact. Annemieke holds me and Duncun comes running from the kitchen to yowl at our feet. 

“It’s not a dream, is it?” Annemieke whispers.

I laugh and pick her off the ground, lifting her up so I can spin her all around. “It is a dream! But it is a real one!” I set her back down. “You’re here. It’s perfect.”

“But how? I thought…” She shakes her head, baffled. “What on earth did you do?”

I bend over to scoop up Duncan, who begins to purr loudly. “I’m not sure,” I laugh. “But I am glad I did it.”

Annemieke goes to the bathroom and looks at herself in the mirror. She does a little spin then looks up at me. “Do I look strange?” she asks. “Like when you had the Glamour.”

I shake my head. “No. You’ve always been perfect to me, no matter what.”

Annemieke giggles.

“What?” I beam. “What’s so funny?”

“I just realized,” she chuckles. “We look like a salt and pepper shaker set.”

I cannot grin enough as I gaze upon her. “It was our fate all along then.” I set Duncan down and wrap her up in my arms. “I cannot tell you how happy I am.”

She nuzzles into the curve of my neck. “I think I can guess.”

We go outside and stand in the sunlight. As she holds my hand, she lets out a heavy sigh. “Well,” she murmurs. “What do we do now?”

I see a flier tucked into our mailbox. When I take it out and look it over, I smile. I hand it to Annemieke. “How about the circus?”