Chapter 178 - The Normandy Benediction
On a crisp, golden afternoon in early spring, the bells of the Abbey of St. Jude rang out across the granite cliffs of Normandy.
The sea breeze swept across the high meadows, carrying the fresh, clean scent of the English Channel and blooming apple blossoms.
In the center of the ancient cloistered courtyard, surrounded by fifty local village children laughing and chasing each other through the clover, stood Sophie’s wooden seaplane—a magnificent, hand-carved cedar play-structure featuring a working brass bell, twin cockpits, and sapphire wings that gleamed in the sun.
Sister Beatrice sat on a stone bench beneath an ancient pear tree, wearing her clean, pressed black habit, holding a silver fork, happily eating a large slice of warm apple tart.
Beside her, leaning on his walking cane, sat Dr. Moreau, watching Noah explain the principles of aerodynamic lift to three wide-eyed French schoolchildren.
Ethan and I stood by the cliffside stone wall, looking down at the turquoise waves breaking against the golden sand fifty meters below.
He wore an open-collared white linen shirt and dark trousers, his arm wrapped securely around my waist, his face radiant with an unshakeable, eternal peace that had washed away twenty years of shadow.
"Hélène is watching, Ethan," I said softly, resting my head against his broad shoulder.
Ethan looked down at his right hand—the hand that had fought across the world to protect our family—and smiled.
"She’s watching, Victoria," Ethan whispered, his gray eyes shining with boundless, reverent love. "And for the first time... she’s resting."
Sophie came running across the courtyard grass, her floral dress dancing in the breeze, holding two small white daisies in her hands.
She stopped in front of us, handing one daisy to Ethan and one to me, her smile radiant as the morning sun.
"The plane is ready for takeoff, Mommy!" Sophie cheered, throwing her arms around both of our waists. "Noah says we have a tailwind!"
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Ethan laughed—a rich, deep, joyful sound that echoed across the cliffs—and scooped her high into his arms, kissing her cheek with all the fierce, unbridled devotion of his soul.
"Then let’s fly, sweetheart," Ethan said. "Let’s fly."
