A/N: Here it is, the long-awaited finale, along with one of my favorite scenes in Anna Karenina. The passages are interspersed with text, and I hope that you enjoy them. Please review, I love getting feedback from readers! Thanks!


Summer sat in front of her vanity, reminding herself to breathe. Her father had insisted on spending the day with her, something that would normally have been a dream come true. But right now, all she could think about was another dream.

She knew that the Cohen's would be at the party tonight – her father had planned a grand formal party for her – gourmet catering, decorations, an orchestra, dancing – everything a girl could dream about. But all she wanted was Seth.

She made her way downstairs and was greeted by a large round of applause as she traversed down the sweeping curved staircase. Her upbringing allowed her to keep a gracious smile on her face as her eyes searched the crowd. He wasn't there. And then the noise of the party fell away and she heard the front doors swing open as he stepped inside.

"Kitty was looking at the door, calling up all her energies to keep her from blushing at the entrance of Konstantin Levin."

Seth stepped into the house and fidgeted with the bottom of his jacket.

"He had not seen Kitty since that memorable evening when he met Vronsky, not counting, that is, the moment when he had had a glimpse of her on the highroad. He had known at the bottom of his heart that he would see her here today. But to keep his thoughts free, he had tried to persuade himself that he did not know it. Now when he heard that she was here, he was suddenly conscious of such delight, and at the same time of such dread, that his breath failed him and he could not utter what he wanted to say. 'What is she like, what is she like? Like what she used to be, or like what she was in the carriage? What if Darya Alexandrovna told the truth? Why shouldn't it be the truth?' he thought and with a desperately determined step he walked into the drawing room and beheld her."

Summer kept walking with slow, measured steps down the stairs. Her eyes met Seth's and she held his glance, feeling calm and sure as she gracefully descended. She saw him as though looking at him for the first time, as if realizing completely that he was the one, that this was right, that it was meant to be.

Seth's breath caught in his throat when he saw her. Summer had always been beautiful, but now there was a new dimension to her loveliness. Her skin was a glowing porcelain, set off by the deep maroon gown that skimmed her curves. When her eyes met his, she didn't look away.

"She was not the same as she used to be, nor was she as she had been in the carriage; she was quite different. She was scared, shy, shame-faced, and still more charming from it. She saw him the very instant he walked into the room. She had been expecting him. She was delighted, and so confused at her own delight that there was a moment, the moment when he glanced again at her, when she, and he, thought she would break down and would begin to cry. She crimsoned, turned white, crimsoned again, and grew faint, waiting with quivering lips for him to come to her. He went up to her, bowed, and held out his hand without speaking."

Seth's hand folded over her small palm and she looked up at him. Even now, standing close together, the small distance between them seemed unbearable. Summer looked up at him and her lips parted slightly.

"Except for the slight quiver of her lips and the moisture in her eyes that made them brighter, her smile was almost calm as she said: 'How long it is since we've seen each other!' and with desperate determination she pressed his hand with her cold hand. 'You've not seen me, but I've seen you,' said Levin, with a radiant smile of happiness. 'I saw you when you were driving from the railway station to Ergushovo.' 'When?" she asked, wondering.'"

"Seth," she whispered his name and her throat trembled. "I've been missing you for such a long time."

He didn't miss the dual meaning of her words.

"I saw you." Seth blurted out the words. "On the beach, with Ryan. You were on his bicycle, and you looked so-" He searched for the word as she maintained his gaze.

He whispered the word. "Free." His fingers traced circles on her palm. "Summer, I-"

"Summer!" Mr. Roberts burst into the conversation. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but there's a man here to see you; he says that it's urgent."

Summer glanced at Seth and he nodded quickly. She stepped away, her eyes speaking for her.

"She and Levin had a conversation of their own, yet not a conversation, but some sort of mysterious communication, which brought them every moment nearer, and stirred in both a sense of glad terror before the unknown into which they were entering. At first Levin, in answer to Kitty's question how he could have seen her last year in the carriage, told her how he had been coming home from the mowing along the highroad and had met her. 'It was very, very early in the morning. You were probably only just awake. Your mother was asleep in the corner. It was an exquisite morning. I was walking along wondering who it could be in a four-in-hand? It was a splendid set of four horses with bells, and in a second you flashed by, and I saw you at the window—you were sitting like this, holding the strings of your cap in both hands, and thinking awfully deeply about something,' he said, smiling. 'How I should like to know what you were thinking about then! Something important?' 'Wasn't I dreadfully untidy?' she wondered, but seeing the smile of ecstasy these reminiscences called up, she felt that the impression she had made had been very good. She blushed and laughed with delight; 'Really I don't remember.'"

As her father led her across the room, Summer glanced over her shoulder at Seth. He was watching her, an unguarded smile across his face and she beamed a grin back at him. At the same moment they turned solemn, nervous, knowing that tonight was the night, aware of the gravity of the next hours.

"Summer, it's lovely to meet you." A tall man extended his hand to Summer and she shook his hand politely. "I'm Martin Feinberg. My father tells me that you've spent quite a good deal of time together."

"Yes!" Summer smiled. "He's a wonderful man – my favorite."

"He sends his best wishes for your health," the younger Mr. Feinberg said, "And he asked me to give you this." He handed Summer a gift-wrapped package. "He says that you must open it in your version of the drawing room, if you know what that means."

Summer looked down at the present and slowly nodded her head. "Yes." She gave him a small smile. "Thank you."

Summer excused herself and made her way through the crowd. Seth was no longer near the staircase and she climbed the stairs with a new sense of urgency. Some external force was pushing her forward, and she felt sure, confident, guided by a new sense of gravity. Another smile broke across her face as she gather her gown in her hands, moving down the long hallway towards the open French doors at the end of the corridor. She could sense him there, and for the first time in her life, she felt at home in her house.


Seth leaned out on the edge of the balcony. The stone was covered with a thick white canvas that draped down over the side of the house, one of many custom-made 'Welcome Home' banners that adorned the Roberts mansion. He felt the fine ridges of fabric underneath his fingers and closed his eyes.

"He knew now the one thing of importance; and that one thing was at first there, in the drawing room, and then began moving across and came to a standstill at the door. Without turning round he felt the eyes fixed on him, and the smile, and he could not help turning round."

Summer was framed in the opening as though she were a portrait come to life, stepping out of the frame to greet her viewers. She held a silver- wrapped rectangle in one hand. She walked towards him wordlessly, her skin luminescent in the moonlight.

"I was hoping you could help me." She spoke softly. "Mr. Feinberg sent this present over for me, but I have a feeling that it's for you as well." She smoothed her skirt nervously. "He told you about the tulips, didn't he?"

Seth nodded. "I know that they're your favorites, remember in second grade, when those slam books were the big thing, and all the other girls wrote that they liked roses the best and you wrote that your favorite flowers were tulips."

Summer's mouth dropped slightly. "I can't believe that you remember that."

Seth stammered. "So, what is that, anyway?" He gestured towards the package.

Summer sidled up next to him and set the present on the wide balcony railing, carefully sliding the wrapping off the gift.

"Oh!" She gasped.

It was a first edition of Anna Karenina, bound with deep red leather and burnished gold. The title was embossed on the front in rolling black letters.

"It's so beautiful," Summer marveled, tracing the lettering with her fingers.

"Yes." Seth agreed. Summer raised her chin to find him watching her, and goosebumps spread across her bare arms.

Summer looked back down at the book and an idea shone down on her. She and Seth were similar in one surprising way – despite all their verbal acrobatics, neither of them were particularly adapt at expressing the delicate emotions that reverberated between them.

"Do you have a pen?" Summer asked.

"Um, yeah." Seth's brow furrowed in confusion. "Here." He handed her a blue felt tip.

Summer leaned over railing and began drawing circles across the heavy canvas drapery. Seth watched her carefully as she looked up. "Do you remember?" she asked hopefully.

"Kitty, going up to a card table, sat down, and, taking up the chalk, began drawing diverging circles over the new green cloth. A silence followed. She was still drawing with the chalk on the table. Her eyes were shining with a soft light. Under the influence of her mood he felt in all his being a continually growing tension of happiness. 'Ah! I've scribbled all over the table!' she said, and laying down the chalk, she made a movement as though to get up. 'What! shall I be left alone—without her?' he thought with horror, and he took the chalk."

The realization swept over Seth like a warm ocean wave. He stepped behind Summer and folded his arms around her, gently closing his hand over her own. She slipped the pen into his hand and stayed still, folded up in his embrace as he studied the canvas.

"'Wait a minute,' he said, sitting down to the table. 'I've long wanted to ask you one thing.' He looked straight into her caressing, though frightened eyes. 'Please, ask it.' 'Here,' he said; and he wrote the initial letters, w, y, t, m, i, c, n, b, d, t, m, n, o, t. These letters meant, 'When you told me it could never be, did that mean never, or then?' There seemed no likelihood that she could make out this complicated sentence; but he looked at her as though his life depended on her understanding the words. She glanced at him seriously, then leaned her puckered brow on her hands and began to read. Once or twice she stole a look at him, as though asking him, 'Is it what I think?' 'I understand,' she said, flushing a little. 'What is this word?' he said, pointing to the n that stood for never. 'It means NEVER,' she said; 'but that's not true!' He quickly rubbed out what he had written, gave her the chalk, and stood up. She wrote, t, i, c, n, a, d. He was suddenly radiant: he had understood.

Summer looked up at Seth. His chest was pressed against her bare shoulder and she could feel his heart beat, matching an allegro rhythm with her own.

"It meant, 'Then I could not answer differently.' He glanced at her questioningly, timidly. 'Only then?' 'Yes,' her smile answered. 'And n...and now?' he asked. 'Well, read this. I'll tell you what I should like—should like so much!' she wrote the initial letters, i, y, c, f, a, f, w, h. This meant, 'If you could forget and forgive what happened.' He snatched the chalk with nervous, trembling fingers, and breaking it, wrote the initial letters of the following phrase, 'I have nothing to forget and to forgive; I have never ceased to love you.' She glanced at him with a smile that did not waver. 'I understand,' she said in a whisper. He sat down and wrote a long phrase. She understood it all, and without asking him, 'Is it this?' took the chalk and at once answered. For a long while he could not understand what she had written, and often looked into her eyes. He was stupefied with happiness. He could not supply the word she had meant; but in her charming eyes, beaming with happiness, he saw all he needed to know. And he wrote three letters." Seth carefully laid the pen down at stepped away from the canvas. Summer reaches for the pen, moving quickly, and she scrawled her response deep into the fabric, inking it forever with her answer.

"But he had hardly finished writing when she read them over her arm, and herself finished and wrote the answer, 'Yes.'"

Summer turned to face him and he scooped her up into his arms, spinning her around the balcony. He slowed to a stop and she slid down his body, feeling him touch her as a warmth spread through her. Seth smiled nervously as he bent his head down, hovering for a moment just over her lips before he kissed her.

She had thought that all the kisses with Seth before were wonderful, and this one had the same magic from before, but this time it was even more spectacular. She kissed him with a newfound abandon, giving in to the lovely sensation, feeling so happy to be with him, and proud of herself for finally opening up.

His hands slid across the slippery satin of her dress and he lifted her up again so that her eyes were level with his. "Summer," he breathed, and his voice cracked a little as he spoke. "It's always been you."

She smiled and brought his lips to hers, sealing the space between them with a promise. His lips were soft and he kissed her slowly, deeply as his fingers gently brushed her face and her hands toyed with his dark curls. They pulled away slightly to smile at each other.

"I love you." Summer's voice tremored as her eyes filled with emotion. Seth's eyes crinkled with a smile.

"You love me?" His eyes threatened to overflow with tears.

Summer nodded, looking down for a moment. She took a breath and said it again. "I love you."

Seth smiled broadly. "Well worth the wait," he teased. He picked her up and swing her around again as she let out a laugh. He dipped her back and kissed her gently.

"I love you, Summer Roberts."

And they held each other on the balcony, dancing and kissing under the soft moonlight as Anna Karenina lay on the railing aside a series of carefully etched letters.

A new chapter had begun.

The end.