Future Heirs

Wolf stood before the mirror in the caravan and admired himself in the new burgundy velvet coat Ginger had just finished as a gift for him. Looking back at him was a tall, handsome figure with a trimmed beard and his shoulder length hair tied back with a bit of leftover velvet ribbon. It was hard to believe what a difference a piece of clothing could make.

With some of the money that Erik had given Ginger she had bought a good sewing machine and had spent time in a Paris dry goods shop where she acquired bolts of beautiful fabrics, buttons that were almost works of art, thread and ribbon and so much material that Wolf joked they would need a second caravan just for her sewing business. Because a business was what it had become.

She had invited her two best friends, Marlena and Anna to join her, and the three women spent many hours at camp laughing and sewing and creating such fine garments, that when they arrived in a little town just outside Barcelona to camp word had already gotten out and several of Barcelona's elite had made the trip to the camp in search of their wares rather than wait for the Gypsy fair days where the Romanys would sell food and drink and entertain the crowds.

In no time at all, the women's garments had been snatched up and a couple of elegant young women had actually squabbled over a turquoise velvet skirt with roses embroidered all over it and shining with silver thread. These items were not cheap and Ginger kept an accounting book where she made sure every item was accounted for and Anna and Marlena well compensated for their work.

Their men found it hard to complain over their good fortune. As long as their women still had time to see to their meals and made sure the children did not run wild, they spent time hunting and fishing together, gathering wood and planning entertainment and feasts for the fair. Things at camp had never been happier. Ginger made sure that the other women in the camp did not feel envious by making sure the material and supplies were available to anyone who wanted to pitch in and make the occasional garments or crochet or knit shawls, scarves or other items that would compliment some of the finer pieces and seen together, buyers found it hard to resist a whole ensemble.

It was while camped in the outskirts of Barcelona that Ginger found herself not feeling well or as energetic as usual, and at first she wondered if the lamb had been off the night before, but suddenly she had a thought. It had been six months since she had stopped taking the herbs that prevented pregnancy. Maybe she was going to be able to give Wolf a child. In fact, she knew this was the case. She climbed up into the caravan and found Wolf standing there, admiring her gift to him. The velvet coat. He looked splendid. So handsome. It quite took her breath away. How could she ever have thought of leaving him? He had given her a better life than any she had ever known.

"Wolf," she began. "Yes, my petite fleur," he replied, turning to her, his green eyes shining.
"You are going to be a father."
Wolf was silent for a moment. Taken aback by these words. "Are you sure?" he asked. He did not dare hope. Nor did he want his sweet young wife to be disappointed.
"I am sure, Wolf. Just as I have the feeling it will be a boy."

Wolf beamed at her. He swept her off her feet and twirled her around the caravan, his border collie, Briar, barking in alarm, darted about them. "Tonight, we celebrate!" He laughed, setting her down, pulling her close and kissing her with such passion, Ginger felt herself melt into him, and knew this child would be special.

Back in Bon Chance, Christine had taken a leave from touring and from her place as the diva of the Paris Opera House, as it was almost time for her child to be born. Hers and Erik's. The nursery had been set up and painted in pinks and golds and she could not be persuaded that there was any possibility she might be carrying a boy. She was about to bring a daughter into the world. One who, it was foretold by Ginger, was going to be special.

When Christine shared this information with Erik, he didn't let on, but he feared that maybe "special" meant she would be born with a deformity, that she would inherit the birth defect that set him on a singular path. A path down which he had done some terrible things. And where he had been shunned by society despite his many talents. He shuddered inwardly.

Yet, he smiled and embraced Christine, "How could she, or he, not be special with you for a mother."

"She," Christine said with certainty, "and she will be special because she has you for a father. The daughter of the Phantom of the Opera," she laughed. Erik did not think that was funny, but he remained silent.
"And Rafe as a big brother who will protect her and teach her all he knows, as well!"

"Yes, that is true. Rafe will be a wonderful brother."

Erik turned away and went out to the garden and then for a walk around the grounds to clear his mind of the gloomy thoughts and saw, then, a vision, that made him feel hopeful. He had a vision of a beautiful little girl, perfect and lovely, and with her mother's chestnut hair and complexion… and her father's yellow eyes.