Things soon settled into a routine. Christine would wake at about seven, feed Meg, and then Eric would escort them to the dining room for breakfast. Christine would spend the day reading, and speaking with the station master at whatever town they stopped in. Eric spent his prowling the train, and writing music. Late one night, Christine sat reading a book, while Eric scanned his latest piece, growling and scribbling adjustments every so often. He was startled out of concentration by Christine's voice. "Eric, will you tell me what happened?" He sat for a moment, trying to switch his train of thought. "A group of angry Soixe warriors came to our house, and lit fire to the roof. My mother...was killed, but she saved me, by using her body as a shield. The right side of my face was the only part not covered." He sighed, remembering. "I ran, thinking the Indians were still there, waiting for me. I couldn't see well, and when I came to this train, I climbed on. Mrs. Giry, a older women who worked here at the time, took me in, and put me in this car. After a while, I began exploring on my own. I helped out around the train, and, well, since I lived in these cars, I began to write notes to your father. You know the rest." Eric turned back to the papers, staring blankly at the notes on the scale, not really seeing them. He was remembering that night so long ago, seeing again the fire, hearing the wild yells from the Indians. He shivered, thinking of the body of his mother sprawled over him on the dirt floor.
Christine moved to his side, placing her hand on his arm. "Eric, do you know where Mrs. Giry is now?" Eric shook his head still staring at the papers crumpled in his fist. Christine gently took them from him, laying them on the side table. Eric just sat, blank. She wanted to bring him back, but how? Meg fussed, and as she went to get her, Christine had an idea. Sitting back on the sofa, she sat Meg on her hands and knees. "Eric, look what Meg learned today!" Eric looked automatically. Meg crewled forward, just a few inches, but it was enough. Eric knelt in front of her, lifting her and placing a kiss on her head. "What a big girl you are, Meg!" sitting on the sofa beside Christine, they praised and fussed over the girl while Christine fed her a bottle.
"No. I don't want to." Eric stood, arms crossed, in their main car. "Eric, what will I tell people if you don't come? You have been coming for the last week." Christine sighed, jiggling a fussy Meg. "I don't care. Tell them I came down with a cold or something." Eric turned to the piano and began rifling through papers. "Just tell me why you won't come." Christine's voice was sharp and impatient. "Everybody stares. I am just a freak in a mask to them, do you think I want to be a freak?"
"Eric, no one thinks that!"
"Then why do they stare? Tell me that, Christine!"
Christine was silent, considering. "Not so quick with an answer, are you."
"Because your the nicest looking man out there!" Christen slapped a hand over her mouth, when he spun, staring at her. "That makes sense. The guy with only half a face looks nicest? Right."
"Eric Destler, you shut your mouth! I mean that, I didn't say that for the fun of it."
"You- you really mean that." Eric stared, mouth hanging open. Christine chuckled, "Your gonna catch a fly, Eric." He grinned. "I'll go. I won't like it, though." Christine snorted. "Real grown up, Eric."