His Voice
Paris, 1952
I continued to stand by the Seine every day.
It calmed me. Grounded me.
The river always moved forward — with purpose.
Then came December 10th. A night I’ll never forget.
It was winter. I wore my usual long black coat — but this time, I used pomade and cologne. I tried to look my best, though I was nervous.
Paris was glowing.
Christmas lights danced from lampposts.
Music drifted from shop radios — and I’ll never forget the song that played
“Have yourself a merry little Christmas…”
And then I saw her.
She was walking toward me — red dress, matching hat, wearing the earrings I gave her.
Her smile was warm. Her eyes confused — because I stood frozen, breathless, just staring at her beauty.
She tapped my shoulder and teased,
“Beau, my darling, why are you standing still?”
She looked at the crowded restaurant and added,
“Let’s walk and find somewhere to eat.”
Then she grabbed my hand — playfully, gently — and said,
“Go on, darling. One foot in front of the other.”
Like she was teaching a baby to walk.
She was teasing. That made her even more irresistible.
I pulled her close by the waist and whispered,
“Cassandra… let’s stay here for a while.”
I asked what she thought of the Seine.
She replied,
“It’s beautiful. I never really thought deeply about it. But now that you ask… there’s something in it that makes you feel calm.”
Then she added,
“You’re not feeling down again, are you? Like the day we met?”
“Far from it,” I said.
And then I began.
“Cassandra…
When you first saw me standing here, I was lost. Discouraged.
My thoughts were heavy with despair.
I came to the river because it moved forward —
never pausing, never turning back.
It gave me hope.
And then I met you.
And on that day, I knew I had a future.
You were that hope.
That light.
And I know… God heard my suffering and gave me you.”
I pulled out a small box.
Her eyes filled with tears. So did mine.
“Cassandra, I don’t have vast land,
but I can give you a decent home.
I don’t have a fancy automobile,
but I’ll take you wherever you need to go.
I will protect you.
I will provide.
And most of all — whatever happens —
I will never leave your side.”
She stood smiling. My heart raced.
Why wasn’t she answering yet?
Then she laughed softly,
“Aren’t you supposed to ask me something, silly?”
And I said,
“Cassandra, will you marry me?”
She said yes.
She hugged me, whispered in my ear,
“I will hold you to that promise.”
A few months later, we became Mr. and Mrs. Beau Moreau.
Standing at the altar, promising to love each other to the end.
Her Voice
One Year Before the Present
I was standing by the Seine.
It was night. I couldn’t bring myself to go home.
My heart was heavy.
I stared at the river — like Beau used to.
And I remembered what he said:
That the Seine flows in one direction.
That it brings peace, because it leads toward hope.
Then I remembered December 10th, 1952.
A week before that night, Beau told me we had an event.
He sent me a red dress. A matching red hat.
It was elegant — something you wear to a grand evening.
On the day itself, I dressed with care.
I used the red lipstick my mother gave me, the one I’d been saving.
When I saw myself in the mirror, I paused.
“I look… beautiful.” I hadn’t said that in a long time.
That evening, Christmas was everywhere —
Lights shimmered. Music floated.
“Have yourself a merry little Christmas…” played in the background.
And there he was.
Handsome in his long black coat, staring at the river like the first time I saw him.
His eyes — steady, deep, full of meaning.
He didn’t speak at first.
So I playfully said,
“What are you staring at, my darling?”
We laughed about the restaurant being full.
I grabbed his hand and teased him forward.
But then he stopped me.
We stood by the river.
And he said words I will never forget.
“Cassandra…
I do not have vast land, but I can give you a decent home.
I do not have a fine automobile, but I will bring you wherever you need to go.
I will protect you and our children…”
(I giggled when he said ‘children’)
“I will provide. And no matter what happens —
I will never leave your side.”
He said the river moves forward —
and that’s how he saw our future.
I hugged him. I told him:
“I’ll hold you to that promise.”
And he kept it.
We married. Built a family.
Our children are grown now.
They visit often. We had a good life.
Beau gave me everything he said he would.
A home. A safe place. A hand to hold through storms.
But not today.
Tonight, I stand alone by the Seine.
I haven’t told him yet.
But like the river, I, too, must move in one direction.
Soon, I’ll be going where he cannot follow —
not yet.
Still…
I feel peace.
Because I know that God will keep Beau, our children, and our grandchildren in His care.
And someday, I’ll meet Beau again.
In a new home.
Where rivers don’t end.
Where love remembers everything.
Ember - Fire and Soul 