Hey ho all! So sorry about the delay . . . the reason is a combination of writer's block, excessive school work, and (I admit) laziness on my part.

But now it's up! So I will say no more and let you go forth and read.

Chapter 2

Erik flipped the cash register closed and waved the costumer on his way. It was a quiet day, with just a few costumers and a friend or two just dropping in to say hello. Madeline was upstairs doing the usual – drawing, and maybe baking a cake. Erik glanced at the clock on the wall and wondered if he could get away with closing up two hours earlier. He was in the middle of mulling over this when the bell over the door rang. It was accompanied by a very familiar voice, speaking very fast.

"Papa! I'm home! Guess what happened today? Well a bunch of stuff happened, actually, but this one really good thing happened and – Papa, can you hear me? I gotta tell you something!"

"I can hear you, just fine, Cléa." He laughed and turned to look at her. "Now what was it you were telling me?"

Cléa was bouncing up and down in the middle of the store, blonde curls jumping with her. Her face was pink – she'd probably run all the way home from school, bursting with the need to tell her father the enthralling story of her day. Erik took one look at her gigantic grin and sparkling eyes and wondered just how it was that a five-year-old had such a theatrical outlook on life.

"Oh my goodness, Papa, it was just wonderful!" she even had sweeping hand gestures to go with every second world. "We were all in music class, see, and Sister Hyacinthe – you know, that nice old one – she had us sing a beautiful piece, it was by . . ." he face fell momentarily, but she caught herself and it sprung back into excitement "someone famous. It wasn't from any opera I know, anyway. Anyway, she had me sing the solo! And she said at the end that I have a 'golden voice'! She's just too nice, you see."

"Golden voice, eh?" Erik chuckled and walked over the ruffle her hair. Her bun had come undone again, he noted affectionately. "I've got no doubt about that." Glancing at the clock again, he suggested "Why don't you go see your mother upstairs? She's probably going to make supper soon, and she'll like your help."

"Alright." Cléa hopped excitedly through the door and up the stairs.

"And have her fix your hair, too." He called after her. There was no reply. Erik shook his head and settled back into his seat behind the counter.

Antoine arrived not long after, if not quite as dramatically. He walked in with his head down, letting the door slam behind him. Erik watching him drag his feet toward the other end of the room; the little boy never looked up once, and didn't say a word.

"Antoine?"

Antoine snapped his head up with a start and looked around franticly, finally laying eyes on Erik. "Yes, Papa?" he asked timidly.

"How was your day?"

"It was fine, Papa." Antoine tried a smile. It wasn't very convincing. Antoine looked away when Erik grimaced. Erik could make a good guess that today had not been 'fine' at all. The boy kept his head bowed and worried his lip between his teeth. Erik sighed and held out a hand.

"Here, give me your satchel. Why don't you help me down here for a little while?"

Antoine snapped his head up. His face was practically glowing now. "Alright!" He let the strap of his satchel drop off his shoulder and pressed it into his father's palm. As Erik hung it up, Antoine skipped over to stand next to him behind the desk. "What should I do?"

"Here." Erik bent and held out a tray covered in little cloth pouches. Antoine took it reverently. "Careful, don't drop it. Now, put these in the right drawers for me. You've done this job before, haven't you?"

"Yes, I have. Lots of times." The boy had already run across the room to the wall of drawers by the time he'd gotten the words out.

Erik sat back and watched him. Antoine was always eager to help out in the shop, so Erik always had him do it when he had bad days. And lately, he'd been having a lot. The boy never discussed them, but Erik could easily guess what was going on. Erik wasn't quite sure how to deal with the problem, having no experience like that himself. Madeline had no idea what to do either, so they both decided that they would let Antoine tell them when he was ready. Neither of them thought that was the best way of going about things, but what else could they do? So they cheered him up when it was needed, and waited.

Finally, the time came to close up the apothecary for the night and go to dinner. Antoine seemed much happier than he had been earlier, giving Cléa and his mother enthusiastic hugs.

"What's for dinner, Maman?" he asked, firmly holding a handful of her skirt.

"Roast chicken." She grinned. "And guess what's for dessert?"

Antoine's mouth fell open. "Really?"

"I helped her make it!" Cléa announced from the table, where she was setting the places. "I stirred. And I got to lick the spoon!"

They all quickly settled down to eat. Cléa immediately started to retell the events of her day in her usual melodramatic fashion. Some nights Cléa could banter on for hours on end, but that night she ran out of stories after a few minutes. Then she seemed very happy to tuck into her food, probably satisfied with how she had helped with the meal that afternoon.

"I had a good day myself." Madeline said once Cléa had started to munch. "Ozanne dropped by, and we went on a nice long walk. We stopped in the park and I sketched for an hour or so."

"You should show us your pictures." Vegetable bits fell out of Cléa's mouth as she spoke.

"Mouth closed when you chew, Cléa. What about you, Antoine?" Madeline turned her attention to her son. "Anything interesting happen at school?"

"No." Antoine dropped his head and poked at his chicken with his spoon.

Madeline raised an eyebrow. "Nothing today? Nothing at all?"

"No." Antoine seemed to be enthralled with his food. He scooped some into his mouth and stared intently at the remnants on his plate. He flicked his eyes up once to look at his sister, who didn't seem to notice anything had changed. He swallowed and looked back to the chicken. "Nothing." He added quietly.

Madeline and Erik exchanged a look.

Finally it was time to bring out the nut cake. Cléa sat up proudly on her chair when it was laid on the table. "See those little rose things on top? I made those!"

"They look really good, Cléa." Antoine reached over to pat her on the shoulder.

"Maman showed me how."

"They do look very dainty, cherie." Erik carefully started to slice the cake "Now let's see how they taste."

The rest of the evening went by rather uneventfully, with the family doing its usual chores, and the children playing like they always did. Finally the time came that they were tucked into bed, and Erik and Madeline retired to their own room for the night.

"Nut cake, hmm?" Erik said as he pulled on his nightshirt. "What's the occasion?"

"Nothing, really." Madeline replied, brushing the final knots out of her hair. "I just thought it would be a nice treat. I didn't have anything else to do this evening, so I thought I might as well." She set her brush down and slipped under the sheets. "You know, I was just in the mood to bake something."

"It was very delicious." Erik slipped into bed with her and turned the lamp down low. "I'm not complaining; I was just curious. You don't make them very often."

"You know," Madeline shrugged under the covers "I just thought I'd doing something special, since I am three months pregnant."

There was a silence.

"You know," she continued calmly "since the last time I announced that it wasn't the best –"

She was abruptly cut off when Erik rolled over and pressed his lips against hers as hard as he could. He didn't let go for some time, and when he did she could see him grinning even in the darkness.

"Bloody hell, Erik!" she hissed. "You scared me."

"I just can't believe this!" he could barely get the words out, he felt so giddy. "Good god, a baby! My baby!" his face fell for a moment "It . . . it is –"

"Of course it's yours, Erik!" Madeline laughed "Who else?"

"I don't know, I just . . ." he sighed "Can I kiss you again?"

"Be my guest."

So he did.

Ok, I promise the plot will pick up in the next couple of chapters. I hope you enjoyed this one, anyway.