Melisande

An assignment ...

Melisande hated that her stepdaughter felt so unhappy.  She tried to talk to the girl when they had first arrived, but Matthew was the only thing his daughter could see.  The language had been a barrier, but she would get better at English and, hopefully, her stepdaughter would pick up enough French that they would be able to get by.  Matthew had assured her that Ella was so smart and loving that it would not take long. 

Melisande pulled the brush through Silla’s chestnut hair.  She looked at her small daughters and remembered how Ana and Silla loved playing in the Paris’s lush park.  Her first husband owned the fanciest restaurant.  His sudden death had been devastating to her small family.  Pierre’s family had taken over the restaurant and their home was simply too large for her to maintain, so it had been sold to a man from Calais. 

One day, while the girls were playing in the park, Melisande met a handsome widower from England walking in the park.  Matthew had been on his way to an appointment.  He’d been kind enough to retrieve her parasol and smiled so kindly that she invited him to tea.

She recalled their gentle courting during the days that followed.  When he suggested that she and her daughters come visit his small estate in England, she jumped, delicately, at the opportunity.  When he proposed marriage so quickly, she said yes, relieved to be loved once more.