Prologue

RAOUL

1906

I still can't believe she's gone. It's been over eight years since she passed away, and yet, it still seems like yesterday she gave birth to our son. My Christine. Our Christine, for you see, she was never really mine. According to the law, she was mine, my wife, but, there remained in her heart a longing for the one she had left so many years before. After he'd made us leave him to die, we'd assumed that was exactly what he did and tried to move on with our lives. We were happy enough, but every so often, I would catch her staring longingly at a small scrap of paper and a small dual portrait which she liked to keep in our private drawer. It was then that I knew she was thinking of him, and it was best not to disturb her when she was lost in her memories.

Today is Charles's twenty-fifth birthday and I have gone to the cemetery to place a single red rose on her grave. It was our tradition, Christine's and my own, for me to give her a red rose on our son's birthday. Every year he only grows more beautiful. I know well that beautiful is not a word that is commonly used to describe a man, but I can think of no other word to fit. Handsome does not even begin to justify the beauty this man possesses, or his talent. He is a musician, critically acclaimed since he was but a boy. He has already played venues in London, Spain and was even asked to play in Italy for the Pope on Christmas Eve one year. He is also an artist, writer and plans to be an architect with offers from firms all over Europe and even America.

I wait patiently, but anxiously for the day when Charles announces he's fallen in love. He tells me all the time he is in no hurry and is quite content with just his music and his arts. Sometimes it worries me, but I would never say anything for it has been in my experience that trying to control every aspect of your child's life can backfire on you. My younger sister always scolds me for worrying too much, having four children of her own. She dotes on Charles and he stays with her and her husband in London for two months every summer. Charles is very close with his cousins, three girls and a boy. Rosaline, Camille, Genevieve and Daniel. With only one child, I, of course, doted on them too, the three girls being the daughters I never had. Christine had so hoped for a daughter one day but for some reason, she was never able to conceive after Charles was born.

All of my nieces and my nephew were gifted children, they would be, their mother was extremely talented in her own right, but their talents paled in comparison to that of my son. They are coming here today, since my sister and brother-in-law were in Paris for the week. As I ride back to my home, I look forward to seeing them all, and of course, seeing my son, who has been gone for two days meeting with yet another architectural firm. I sigh, thinking of it for he could be so successful as a musician, but he had to make his own decisions.

As I enter the house, I hear loud laughter coming from the library. My sister is seated on the couch, smiling to herself and reading a book while her husband speaks to Daniel about his schooling. The three girls are crowded around our piano with Charles at the center, playing and entertaining them to tears. He is mimicking a diva we saw once at the London opera house, singing in falsetto and accompanying himself. I cannot believe all of the children are practically adults. Camille resembles my sister the most with strawberry blonde hair and bright blue eyes, while the other two girls have their father's sandy brown hair color. My brother-in-law looks up and gives me a nod as my sister puts her book down to come and give a quick hug.

"It's quite the madhouse in here dear brother..." She laughs, "But it is so good to see you...it's really been too long." I chuckle, patting her head as if she were still only fifteen and not a forty-one year old mother of four.
"Oh Alana, why don't you and Garrett just move back to Paris?" She sighs, nodding toward the children.
"London is their home, they couldn't bear to leave..." I just shake my head, smiling to myself as I shake my brother-in-laws hand and pat my nephew's head. He is my sister's eldest child and a very responsible young man. He is the spitting image of his father.

As I take a seat next to Alana, my three nieces bombard me with kisses and hugs, all of them talking at once in their teenaged chatter.
"Uncle, " says my youngest niece Genevieve, who is thirteen, "Charles taught me how to play part of Fur Elise today!" I smile, wishing I could have had a daughter who looked just like my darling wife.
"Oh did he? Well, you shall have to remember your poor humble uncle one day when you are rich and famous!" I say, winking at her mother who is trying to fix sixteen year old Camille's braid.

Eighteen year old Rosaline, our lovely Rosie, is admiring her brand new engagement ring in the brilliant chandelier light. I reach out my hands for her to give me a hug too, which she obliges.
"I still cannot believe little Rosie is getting married," I say, feeling old and Garrett smiles lovingly at his second born.
"I know...my little girls are all grown up." He says and Genevieve pouts at him, going to sit on his lap.
"I'm not Daddy, aren't I still your little angel?" He presses a kiss to her temple,
"Of course you are precious, you were our baby!" Alana raises an eyebrow at her husband as she pats Camille's rosy cheek.
"Don't baby her Garrett, she's nearly fourteen!"

Camille snorts and looks back at Charles, whom she shares the closest bond with.
"Damn little attention hog..." She mutters, making him roar in his rich laughter as he tinkers with the piano. He gathers up his sheets of music and brings them over, sitting on the other side of his aunt and offering them to her for approval. She had studied music as a girl, so he appreciated all of her insight. She peered at the notes, raising her eyebrows a bit and nodded.
"Incredible, as always love, but it lacks inspiration..." His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"Inspiration?" He asked as she looked at him seriously.
"My sweet nephew, don't get me wrong, it is brilliant, as is all of your work, but I fear you are becoming too consistent. There is no passion behind the music. No meaning..." He nods in understanding, but knowing him as I do, I can sense his determination and his will to succeed.

I stand, feeling now would be a good time to present my surprise birthday gift to him.
"Perhaps you shall become inspired tonight at the opera." I said, pulling from my inside coat pocket, two tickets to tonight's production of Faust, which I had picked up this morning from the managers. Tickets were easy enough for me to come by, considering I had been a huge patron to the Paris opera for almost twenty-six years now. Charles's eyes instantly lit up at this and he got up quickly to come hug me.
"You always know just what I want Dad." He said, and I only smile at him, savoring every moment he calls me Dad, for I know it shouldn't be my true title in his life, and then the horrible sadness fills me, for I know our lives are a charade, a masquerade, yet I still cling to it. Every year, I tell myself I will tell Charles the truth about his parentage, that I will show him the portraits of his grandparents in the private drawer, but I can never bring myself to. I don't know if I ever will...