It was autumn again, that passionate month in October. The trees were ablaze from the touch of early frost. I was on the back veranda of Paul's big white house, shelling peas and watching Bartholomew Winslow chase after his son and step-son.

Jory's brother was named Bart after his father, I was now Catherine Leigh Winslow. Jory, now 7, had been jealous at first, but when he felt the love of a new father and the joy of being a bossy older brother, he accepted his new and improved life. Bart junior however was not the kind to take orders. He was his own person right from the beginning, which made my husband beam with pride.

Life, I had learned long ago, went on whether you wanted to be stuck in the past or not. And it has finally evened out for me. No more did I yearn for fame, fortune, and revenge like a child longing for games and toys. I had my sweet children and a man who came to be my everything. Bart Winslow, who who had lent me his wings and taught me how to fly.

Paul, our benefactor and savior, had suffered four heart attacks in the last 3 years. Though Bart wanted a place of our own he generously lived with Paul, so Chris and I could care for him. I recalled how Paul insisted on sitting up in a chair to attend the small nuptials Bart and I took in the gardens out back. Chris could only watch from his bedroom window.

Oh Chris. Often he glares at Bart, and treats me like none of this is really happening. Did he assume all along that he would win me over just as he always beat me in all other games? He is the one issue keeping my life from being perfect.

Even so I will keep him in my life always. We still have times when it's just us... Like when we go visit Cory's grave. After my second escape from Foxworth Hall, in Mama's crazed episode she had revealed that she'd hidden Cory's body in the attic. Chris and I always assumed there was another entrance, but though we searched and searched we never found one. Chris was the one to bring him down discreetly, and we buried him next to Carrie. They were finally together again at last.

And of course we visit mama. She lives in a huge convalescent home for the insane. She usually screams when she sees me, and without restraints she claws at her own face, and is forbidden to have any mirrors. She does wear her sins on her face after all. Though she was legally stripped of her money, Bart Chris and I have disclaimed there was a fourth child, so she will never be criminally charged. And then irony of ironies happened. When grandmother died the Foxworth fortune went right back into the hands of Mama. Oh how those two wicked old people laughed at their daughter from the grave! Now Mama sat staring at four walls, cursed with millions unable to spend a cent.

Then one day the following year Paul Sheffield passed away in his sleep. He confessed to me how he had been dreaming of Julia and Scotty, and I was glad he was at peace at last, for I loved him so.

Bart Chris and I packed up everything in a U-Haul and made our way to California for a new start as my parents had done long ago. Bart's new successful law practice is large, but not too large, so he can make sure to work in our four acres of gardens. He is forever charming and seductive with a mischievous smile, luxurious taste, wining and dining me in the most beautiful places in California, and the wife of a lawyer has her work too.

Once I was a flower in the Attic, brought out finally into the sun, but was so weak my petals broke off in the wind. Now I am replanted ready to grow strong with new roots. Hopefully there will be no thorns...