Proserpina

I sat with baby Claude in my arms, crooning to him as he stirred restlessly. He was burning up with a fever and I had been holding him and carrying him around for an hour now. My back ached as I slowly rocked the antique rocking chair Lucien had got me as a gift.

It was midnight and I knew Lucien would be flying back in a few hours’ time. He had called me a while ago, assuming that the children would be heading to bed. It had become a practice with him and the twins; ...