As he cradled his son, Francis realized that the baby had fallen asleep. Gingerly, he kissed Thomas on the forehead, and the sweet, intoxicating smell of the baby was heart-wrenching, reminding him of milk bread and orange blossom. Thomas seemed so tiny in his arms and the serenity that radiated from the child’s perfect face was filled with promise. And yet this tiny marvel seemed so delicate and utterly defenseless.

Francis became aware that he was crying. Not because he was sad, but because the thought of such fragility terrified him. He wiped a tear from his cheek and, with all the tenderness he could muster, laid Thomas back in the crib without waking him.

*  *  *

He opened the sliding door and stepped out onto the little balcony. He took a pack of Gauloises from his jacket pocket, lit one, and, on a whim, decided that this would be his last cigarette. Now that he had parental responsibilities, he needed to take care of himself. How long do children need their fathers? Fifteen years? Twenty? Their whole lives? As he inhaled the acrid smoke, he closed his eyes to soak up the last rays of sun that filtered through the branches of the linden tree.

Raising a child, protecting him, was a long-term struggle, one that would require constant vigilance. Terrible things could happen without warning. He could never allow his attention to falter. But Francis would not shirk his duty. He was thick-skinned.

Hearing the French door open, Francis was roused from his thoughts. He turned and saw Annabelle, smiling. As she melted in his arms, he felt all his fears fade. Enveloped by the warm breeze, Francis knew that for as long as Annabelle was by his side, he could face anything. Brute force is nothing without intelligence. Together, they would always be one step ahead of danger.

One Step Ahead of Danger

Despite the threat of Pianelli’s book hanging over us, Maxime, Fanny, and I went on with our lives as though it didn’t exist. We were resolved to no longer live in fear. We felt no need to explain or justify ourselves. We made one pledge: whatever happened from here on out, we would face it together.

Something in me had changed. I had a new confidence. The fear that had been gnawing away at me gradually disappeared. The new roots that I had discovered made a new man of me. Of course, I had my regrets—the fact that I had made peace with my mother only after her death; the fact that only now that Richard was in prison did I finally feel close to him; the fact that I had never been able to talk to Francis while knowing that he was my real father.

The fates of my three parents gave me pause, though.