A Promise

Chapter Twenty-Six

        Musichetta let out sob after sob as I brought her to the couch and let her rest her head against my shoulder. "What's the matter?" I asked her gently.

        "It's J-Joly," she cried. "What if he d-dies in the revolution? What if I never see him again? What if my baby never gets to know his daddy?"

        "'Chetta, don't talk that way," I told her sternly. "You have to have faith that God will protect Joly."

        "But I've been having these dreams," Musichetta said, tears pouring down her cheeks. "Every night, it's the same nightmare. Joly is standing guard at the barricade when suddenly a gun fires, and he falls to the ground, dead."

        "It's just a dream," I reassured her, giving her hand an affectionate squeeze. "Don't worry about Joly. I'll look after him."

        Musichetta looked up sharply, a confused look on her face. "You'll look after him?" she repeated slowly. "Does that mean you're going to fight at the barricade?"

        I nodded. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about," I explained. "Can you make me a disguise so that Enjolras won't recognize me when I fight at the barricades?"

        Musichetta nodded earnestly, wiping the tears from her glistening eyes. "That's a great idea," she said. "I'll give you some of Joly's old clothes to wear."

        'Chetta walked over to the closet and pulled out a stained white shirt, brown trousers, a trench coat, a belt, and a cap. She also grabbed a long strip of white cloth and her sewing kit. She hopped back on the couch and began hemming the pants.

        "I wish I could fight with you," she said wistfully.

        "Don't even think about it," I told her sternly. "You have your baby to take care of."

        Musichetta put her hand on her stomach and nodded. "You're right," she said. "But you will protect my Joly for me?"

        "Of course," I promised, grabbing a needle and helping her sew. "Ouch!" I yelped as I poked myself with the needle. Musichetta laughed.

        "Let me do it," she told me, taking the needle from my hands. I sighed in defeat.

        "I'll never get the hang of sewing," I said. "What's going to happen when Enjolras and I are married with kids and I have to sew their clothes?"

        "Don't worry," Musichetta told me. "You can always come to me if you have trouble. What did you say you were going to name your future children?"

        "If it's a boy, we'll name him Grantaire. If it's a girl, I want to name her Ambrosine, but Enjolras wants something boring like Josephine."

        Musichetta laughed. "I'm sure you two will be able to compromise," she said. "Joly and I have no idea what to name our baby."

        "You'll find the perfect name," I reassured her. "You still have a few months to think about it."

        Musichetta smiled, then finished up the sewing. She put the clothes in the bag, then held up the strip of cloth for me to see. "You'll have to wrap it around your chest," she explained. I nodded in understanding, then took the bag of clothes.

        "I should get going now," I said, giving her a hug. "Enjolras will be missing me."

        "Eponine," Musichetta said, grabbing my shoulders. "Promise me you'll be careful out there. Promise you won't die."

        "I promise," I said, taking her hand in mine. As I said it, I had a strange sense of foreboding, as if a fate much worse than death awaited me at the barricade. I shook off the feeling and gave Musichetta another hug. "I'll see you again soon," I said. Again, that terrible feeling returned to me. Will I see her again soon? I wondered. I pushed the thought out of my mind, waved to Musichetta, and left the house hurriedly. I quickly rushed down the street to Enjolras' house, feeling very nervous. I hated walking the streets alone for fear that the Inspector would see me or Montparnasse would find me. Thankfully, I made it back to Enjolras' house without any incidents. I quickly walked through the door.

        "I'm back!" I called out. Enjolras came out of the kitchen and gave me an affection peck on the cheek.

        "What's in the bag?" he asked me.

        "Um... nothing. Just some clothes from Musichetta," I responded. It wasn't a complete lie. Enjolras nodded and turned away from me. I could see the worry and anxiety in his eyes.

        "Are you worried about the revolution?" I asked. Enjolras nodded.

        "What if we're not ready?" he said, wringing his hands together. "What if something goes wrong?"

        "I have faith in you," I told him, wrapping my arms around his waist. "Just promise me you'll be safe."

        "I will," he said, returning my embrace. "You'll go to Musichetta's house and keep her company, won't you?"

        I nodded, wishing that I didn't have to lie to him. "I love you," I whispered, pulling him closer. Enjolras leaned over and pressed his lips against mine. I kissed him back passionately, wishing we never had to break apart. His hand brushed against the ring that I wore around my neck.

        "Don't ever take this off," he told me between kisses. "It's a part of me that I want to stay with you forever."

        "I promise I'll never take it off," I said, kissing him again.

        So many promises.

        I only hoped I would be able to keep them all.