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about them. Do you know them very well? What do they like to do? What are their hobbies? Do I have other relatives? Cousins? Nephews and nieces? They speak English, right?” I asked with a shaky voice.
    I tried to tell myself to calm down, but I had met the man who haunted my dreams for eight years, been abducted to a foreign country, found out my beloved aunt kidnapped me and now was about to meet the family I had been told was dead. This was not a very calming day for me.

    WARLOCK’S BRIDE JENNIFER RINEHART 34

    “Helene has a great sense of humor. She loves the theater, horseback riding, movies and gardening. She lives in a flat in Paris that has a beautiful view of the Seine. She has two cats that she calls her fussy roommates. She does a lot of fund raising for many different charities. I usually drop in to see her whenever I'm in Paris. Your brother, Laurent, plays polo and reads mysteries. He is not married, so no, you have no nieces or nephews that I know of. He sails, skis and plays chess. He has a job with Interpol.”
    Interpol, wow, that sounded glamorous and impressive. What would they think of me, an unemployed legal secretary with a shabby, little apartment, an older, used car and no love life to speak of.
    A part of me, the saner part, insisted that it didn't matter. They were family and would love me no matter what. After all, they were looking for me all this time. They didn't give up.
    But the frightened, childish part of me was worried that they wouldn't like me. That they would be horribly disappointed.
    I heard a car draw up in front of the house. I heard the front door opening and the quiet murmur of Harrison greeting people and taking their coats. I stood up slowly and faced the doorway. I felt Gage take my hand and I didn't try to pull away as we slowly walked across the room.
    I heard the tap, tap, tapping of a woman's shoes and the soft, duller tread of a man as we waited for them. A tall, thin woman with a short, dark cap of shiny hair stopped in the doorway.
    She was gripping the hand of the dark haired man standing next to her.
    No one moved for a moment and I felt Gage tug me forward until I was standing in front of them. Her eyes ran over my face with a wondering expression and I turned to the man next to her. My brother, Laurent, I mentally corrected myself, and saw a tear slowly make its way down his cheek as he looked me over from head to toe.
    With an inarticulate cry of joy Helene grabbed me in a fierce hug and I felt Laurent's hand on my back as he hugged us both.
    I could feel the delicate bones of my mother's back as I hugged her with a glad cry. She felt delicate, birdlike in my arms, like a strong wind would carry her away. Her body quaked with sobs of relief and joy and I held her tighter thinking she would fall apart if I didn't. She'd changed so much since the happy picture of her on the beach. The years had sculpted lines of grief and pain in her face and she was too thin.
    She pulled away for a moment and her eyes ran greedily over my face, her hand touched the mole on my cheek lightly and she ran her hands over my curly hair with a delighted expression.
    “My Amelie, my beautiful girl, I am the happiest mother in the world today!” She said with a half laugh, half sob of happiness.
    Laurent pulled us over to the sofa and we were about to sit down when Helene gave Gage a fierce embrace, kissing him on both cheeks and said, “Thank you, thank you for finding ma petite fille. You have saved my life.”
    Helene looked like she would start to cry again and Gage smiled and urged her to sit down next to me on the sofa.
    She held my hand tightly in both of hers and didn't seem inclined to relinquish it, but I didn't mind. I felt a great sense of completeness fill me as I looked at my mother and brother.
    These were my people, my family. I had a place in the world. A history where before Celia and I had always had each other and no one else. We'd been nomads, visitors to every