Return to Me - By Morgan O'Neill Page 0,73

arms, and Gigi felt her worries slip away. The answer had been right there all the time. Only seven years and the coast would be clear.

Yes, clear sailing.

Chapter 22

A.D. 423, The Pinetum, Ravenna, Italy

No one knew they were coming to the villa.

Nervous, Gigi walked with Magnus and the ten-year-old girl who had never wavered in her beliefs, who had refused to follow any other path.

Gigi hoped they were making the right decision, yet in her heart she knew there was no alternative. Athaulf’s daughter was as stubborn and determined as he’d ever been. The thought brought a grim smile to Gigi’s face.

“I will go inside and find Leontius,” Magnus said, leaving them outside to wait.

Gigi glanced down at the remarkable child, whose gaze burned bright with hope, a pure blue fire.

“I’m so scared, Gigi, but I’m glad I’m here.”

“It’s what you’ve always wanted, sweetheart,” she replied. “It’s what she always wanted.” Tears filled her eyes, but she brushed them aside. “We’ll see each other again, I just know it.”

The girl nodded and held up the flute she was carrying, a smaller version of Gigi’s, but made of gleaming silver.

Gigi touched her own golden flute, still safe within the leather case slung on her side.

The gate squeaked, and Gigi turned to see Magnus helping Elpidia hobble out, Leontius following behind. The old servants cried upon seeing the girl — two dear, doddering souls gushing over their new charge as they enfolded her in their arms. With a final glance and wave, the girl disappeared inside.

Magnus wrapped his arms around Gigi and together they watched the villa for a long and poignant moment.

“I can’t believe she’s gone,” Gigi finally whispered.

“She isn’t gone, my sweet,” Magnus said. “She’s finally home. Placidia will be arriving from Constantinople soon, and their reunion will be wonderful.”

“Yes, I know it will,” Gigi whispered, “but still I’ll miss her.”

They turned and walked away, holding hands, bound by love and determined to take a different path. Gigi had always known this day would come, had tried to prepare for it, but she found herself fighting her emotions, wanting to cry out for what had been lost, yet seeking solace in the reunion yet to come.

She and Magnus entered the great plaza, searching for those who waited there. They stood by the baptistery, a gorgeous group of young people.

Gigi touched her flute, then her mother’s gold wedding band.

Soon, she sent her thoughts out and across time.

There was just one more thing to do. And then, they’d all be home.

Chapter 23

Present Day, Arles, France

The evening was glorious, the sky clear and moonlit. The beautiful old Roman amphitheater of Arles was filled to capacity, the entire audience on their feet, wildly cheering and clapping.

Beneath the spotlight, Gigi stood on the center stage, surrounded by her fans. Dressed in a gorgeous, Grecian-style gown of blue silk, she smiled and curtsied. Horace, clad in a toga, bowed to the crowd, then turned to Gigi and went down on one knee, his hand to his chest in the ancient Roman way. The audience erupted with approval.

The air wafted over them, warm and pure, hinting of ancient stone and thyme. Gigi reached out to Horace, loving the way her ruby and diamond wedding ring glittered in the light. He grasped her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze as he rose to stand beside her.

Horace grinned his crooked grin and said to her in Latin, “Remember, sister, we must never do this together in the baptistery in Ravenna.”

She laughed as the lights dimmed and moonlight glinted off their flutes: hers golden, his silver. The audience grew silent, their anticipation palpable.

It was time for their encore, their new, chart-topping duet, the magical “Ode to Lovers.”

Gigi’s mood shifted and tears sprang to her eyes, as they always did when she played this tune. Placidia and Athaulf. The memory of their love would be preserved for all time in this glorious, soaring melody.

She looked out and spotted Magnus and their children in the first row. Six beautiful young adults and their very own three-year-old, Galla Augusta. Dark curls and beautiful, blue eyes, the image of her father. Galla rested in the lap of Gigi’s mom. Her dad, Lucius, Vana, and Jack sat beside them. Her heart lifted. All had come here to share this moment, everyone with her, safe and happy.

Gigi smiled to them and then moved toward a metal bowl near the edge of the stage. She placed a piece of paper in it — the score of