Wow...was it just me or did that weekend drag on forever?

It did allow me to play catch up on all your lovely reviews though!

And now for a nice LONG chapter...as well as the answer to a few of your burning questions!

Guest Reviews:

syrianlight: I am so happy you enjoyed the exchanges of the "I love yous". Erik tried to hide his O.G. self as long as he could, but a tantrum was inevitable. More cuddles on the way.

Mystery: I am glad you agree with my diagnosis as to why Erik talks in the third person. Sorry every chapter feels like a cliffhanger...but that is a very nice compliment!

Guessst: See what a good shot I am...I was AIMING for the feels! And yes, Erik deserves ALL those firsts!

Jobizzle: Thanks! I just wanted to see what a 'loved little Erik' looked like! And a master Erikographer? I LOVE IT. That will be my new title!

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Chapter 6

The Price of Paper

When Suzette arrived home that evening she seemed in a much better mood. She did not berate Anna or criticize her once that night or the following day, leading her to believe the trip to Paris had actually made her employer…happy. It was no surprise, when just a few days later, Suzette announced that she would be making another trip to visit with her friends, once more leaving Anna in charge of Erik.

By the time Anna's third month of employment rolled around, Madame Trouville was spending almost every weekday away from the house. Sometimes she would go to Paris, other times to Beauvais or even as far as the coastal city of Rouen. Anyplace that got her out of the house and the narrow-minded small town that knew far too much about her business and rumors of the child she kept in the attic.

This got Anna thinking of what Suzette had told her the day after the storm. While she still did not approve of the mother's treatment of the boy, Anna had to give Madame Trouville credit for at least keeping him. Many women in her place might have indeed dumped their deformed child alongside the road to perish, maybe abandoned him to an orphanage…or worse still, turned him over to a lunatic asylum! Anna knew exactly what kind of horrible treatment went on in a place like that; for her former husband's great uncle had been remanded to one after he had been deemed insane. The one time they had gone to see him had been more than enough to turn Anna's stomach at how the patients there were being treated. Many were locked up or shackled to their beds, left alone and screaming to be set free. She had seen evidence of vicious bruises and deep cuts on the patients, both young and old, as they walked down the hall. Each set of lost eyes looking back at her with a pleading expression, begging for help that she longed to give, but couldn't. When she questioned her husband about the treatment there, he confessed that while that was one of the more reputable establishments, there were much worse. Places where they treated the patients no better than animals, claiming to be giving them treatments as they beat and whipped the hide from their backs. Ice baths, starvation and pulling out all their teeth to avoid them biting the doctors were only some of the common practices. All of this caused Anna to suffer from nightmares even weeks after the visit.

So when she thought of what could have happened to Erik, had he ended up in a place like that, she chose to not begrudge Suzette her daily trips of freedom. For had she chosen, Erik's life could truly have been a living hell, and while his past had not been ideal, she knew it could have been worse. Yet now with Anna there, Erik was clean, given better fitting clothes, a new blanket for his bed, as well as decent food – well, at least as much as she could manage with her still budding cooking skills. But best of all…he was loved and cared for by Anna herself, and that made all the difference. So whatever reason Suzette had for keeping Erik and reluctantly raising him - be it a spark of humanity or even guilt - Anna had to admit she was grateful.

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Anna did her best to keep Erik entertained with books on architecture as well as others she felt might be of interest. One day while dusting the top shelf she stumbled across one on ventriloquism. She had once seen an actor use this talent during a performance and Anna had always been intrigued. Tucking it away, she scuttled it up to Erik the very next chance she got. As expected, Erik was enraptured by the idea and was soon fully engrossed in the book. Anna had no idea just how much effort the young boy had put into learning the skill, until one day when she had come up to tidy his room, she was startled by a voice that appeared to come from one of Erik's newly formed paper animals. It was a duck, sitting on the wooden chest who spoke to her, very plainly, asking if she would be so kind as to move him over to the table. At first Anna feared she had lost her mind, placing her hand over her heart as she felt it racing from the sudden fright. Yet as she turned to look at Erik, prepared to ask him if he too had heard the seemingly impossible voice, she could see that he was laughing quietly from behind the book he held up to cover his face. It was then she realized what kind of trick the little imp was playing on her.

"Please move me to the table," the little duck begged again, pulling Anna's attention back to the motionless paper figure. "It is so far away and my legs are terribly short."

In truth, the duck had no legs at all, but Anna chose to ignore that fact and instead answered back kindly.

"Why of course, Monsieur Mallard, I would be happy to help you across the great expanse of the room," she assured him, gently picking him up and placing him in the location he desired. "However, next time you might think about using your wings. They would be much more useful than your little webbed feet."

Her short conversation seemed to tickle Erik even more and his laughter was now hardly contained as he shook from the effort to keep it in.

"And me, Madame," came another voice off to her left, this time emanating from a little newsprint dog. "Could you please see if there is a bone in the cupboard for me? I would so love to gnaw on one."

"Who do you think I am?" Anna asked, placing her hands on her hips as she stared at the paper pup. "Old Mother Hubbard?"

This was Erik's undoing and he fell backwards onto the floor in a fit of giggles, holding his stomach as he tried to catch his breath.

"It was me, Anna!" he announced proudly, once he could speak clearly again. "I made them talk…it was me!"

"Erik, you are indeed a marvel!" she complimented him, smiling at his look of pride. "Is there truly anything that you cannot do?"

Her question seemed to halt his merriment and he stared at her for a moment in thought before answering in a quiet voice.

"I…I can't leave this room," he replied, his head lowering as his fingers aimlessly picked at the cuff of his pant leg.

Anna felt terrible, not only for turning his laughter into sadness by her thoughtless words, but also since up until then she had done very little to remedy that predicament. But no more! She vowed that she would find a way to allow the boy more freedom…and soon!

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As Madame Trouville's trips became more frequent and eventually routine, Anna decided it was time to risk allowing Erik out of his room and giving him access to the rest of the house - at least while Suzette was away. It took a bit of coaxing before he would dare, always worried that his mother might come home unexpectedly and catch him disobeying, possibly punishing Anna for his defiance. Yet with persistence, Erik gained the courage to exit his attic prison and venture downstairs. Anna did all she could on those precious days they shared together to make up for all the years of isolation and neglect Erik had suffered, though she knew nothing could ever erase the painful memories.

Ever since Anna had sung Erik his first song, the boy had been enthralled with that form of art. It was as if he had been waiting all his young life for someone to open the door and allow the glorious gift of music to enter his lonely world - and once that door had been opened, there was no way it could ever be closed again. Erik was insatiable, requesting that Anna sing for him every day if she had time. He would beg to hear long songs, short ones, opera, ballads, hymns, dirges…it really didn't matter what she sang, he loved it all. However his favorite was that original lullaby she had shared, and over and over he would implore her to sing him to sleep with those soothing words. As time went on his demands quickly became too much for Anna's damaged vocal cords to take and she began to realize his thirst for music would soon be beyond her capability to quench.

Thankfully the answer to her prayers soon presented itself, when one day Suzette sent her to the cellar to locate an old box of keepsakes. Anna had never been down there before and was amazed at the amount of old furniture and boxes stored in the large, dusty room. It took her quite a while to find the desired item, spending almost half an hour opening boxes and moving things until she discovered it at last. However, in the process she had uncovered a beautiful pianoforte, hidden beneath a drop cloth and years of dust. Anna had trained to be her own accompanist and as she let her fingers press down on the keys, hearing the clear notes that rang out, she knew the instrument was whole and sound. This could be her salvation where Erik's need for music lay. With this, she could teach him to play his own songs, not relying on her to sing for him all the time. So with the box in her hand and a smile on her face, Anna hurried back upstairs, eager for the chance to show Erik her find.

The moment Suzette left the house the following day, she wasted no time unlocking Erik's door and leading him down to the cellar. For a boy who had spent far too much time isolated in his small attic room upstairs, the cluttered area below the house seemed to oddly fascinate him. Yet when Anna pulled the cloth off the piano, it quickly became the only thing that held his attention.

"It is a pianoforte…and it plays music," she explained, pressing the ivory keys in a pattern to create a tune. Erik's eyes widened with excitement as he ran to where she stood.

"Do it again!" he begged, his own little hands hovering over the instrument as if afraid to touch such a wonder.

"Here," she instructed, sitting down on the bench and patting the spot next to her. "Let me show you how it works." She began slowly, naming the keys and notes as she played, demonstrating how to use the pedals below and having him repeat each instruction back to her. In no time at all he had memorized every key and was practicing scales like an advanced student. "But just knowing the notes is not enough," Anna continued. "Now you need to mix them up, put them in an order that is pleasing to the ear and you will have music." Anna quickly demonstrated this by plucking out a short tune. Once more Erik's eyes followed her every move, then he mimicked it perfectly until they were both playing in synchronization.

Anna was completely amazed! She had expected Erik to excel at the piano, the same as he did with every other artistic endeavor he tried…but this exceeded even her expectations. Erik was nothing short of a child prodigy, a genius in diminutive form and as she sat and watched the boy master in one hour what had taken her months to learn, she knew she was in the presence of greatness.

Perhaps if Suzette knew of Erik's talents, she might come to appreciate the amazing son she had. Yet, to alert her to such things would necessitate that they confess their sins of going against her orders, especially the one where Erik was not allowed to leave his room. No, it was best that they kept it a secret, just between the two of them. And as she watched him play, Anna was only too happy to hoard the gift of his music all to herself.

She had left him alone down there the rest of the day, happily playing and learning more and more through trial and error. When the clock struck five, Anna knew it was getting close to the time Madame Trouville would be coming home, so she headed back down to fetch Erik. Once again lost in his own little world, she had to practically shout in order to gain his attention. When she told him of the time, he looked almost frantic, unwilling to leave his newfound friend. She could tell his mind was spinning, trying to figure a way to get the piano up to his room, but even Erik quickly saw the futility in that. Then suddenly something must have occurred to him.

"Wait! I will be right back," he ordered, racing up the cellar steps and out of her sight. In less than a minute he was back down, out of breath and clutching a few pieces of his precious paper and the pencil in his hand. Kneeling on the floor he placed them on the piano bench and expertly drew every key of the instrument onto the pages. Once he had it all mapped out, he looked from his work to the original object and back again, making sure he missed nothing. Satisfied with his rendering, he allowed Anna to guide him back upstairs, shutting the cellar door behind them.

Thus began Erik's days and nights of composing. When he was confined, unable to get to his new great love, he would use his drawing to create wondrous music that he would play first in his mind, and then on the piano when his mother would leave. Anna showed him how to go about writing down his songs on paper, drawing a blank music staff and demonstrating how to transcribe each note so that it could be easily understood and played back later. It was not long before Anna saw a definite need to purchase some actual music sheets for him, otherwise the boy was going to go through his drawing paper in no time at all. The acquisition of several more lead pencils would also be a must.

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So it was that Anna found herself at a little music shop the next time she was asked to run errands for Suzette. The little bell tinkled merrily as she entered and was greeted by a wide smile from the man behind the counter.

"Ah, my first customer today," he informed her cheerfully. "What can I do for you, miss?"

"I am hoping to purchase some blank sheets of staff paper," she explained. "I am afraid I am on a tight budget, but could you please tell me how much it might be for a ream of it?"

"A whole ream?" the man's eyes widened as he glanced towards the counter behind where Anna stood. "Well, I only have a few dozen sheets of it on the shelf, not much call for the blank pages these days. Anyone with aspirations to write their own tunes eventually move to Paris, hoping to strike it rich. Lately, people only come in looking to purchase music that is already written." The merchant then seemed to get an idea and held up his hand. "Yet…wait here, I just might have something…" he told her, disappearing into the back of the store.

Anna busied herself looking around, finding charcoal pencils at a decent price and was just picking out a few when the little bell on the door gave a jingle, signaling a second customer. Looking up she met the eyes of a kind looking man a few years her senior. He respectfully tipped his hat as he entered and headed over to where the stringed instruments were kept, looking through some replacement parts for a cello. Soon the shopkeeper returned and set a large, heavy looking package on the counter, dust billowing into the air as he did.

"Just as I thought," he reported proudly. "I received an entire ream of the stuff years ago and it just got buried. It was a specialty order you see, that is why I never put it out on the shelf, but I suppose it is safe to do so, now that the person who ordered it is long gone."

"I do not wish to take another person's order, Monsieur," Anna protested, though she dearly wanted the paper. "What if he returns for it and finds that you have sold it?"

"Ahhh, that is the thing," he said with a sad expression. "The gentleman who placed the order died many years ago, thus the reason for the dust." The shopkeeper waved his hand a bit in the air to dissipate the haze that surrounded the bundle of paper. "Monsieur Trouville was my best customer too, in here at least twice a week ordering different instruments, piano wire and blank music sheets by the ton."

"Monsieur Trouville?" Anna asked, her eyes growing wide at the mention of that name. "Henri Trouville?"

"The very same," the man replied in surprise. "Might you have known the gentleman?"

"No," she assured him with a shake of her head. "I only know of him by reputation. You see I am currently employed by his widow, Madame Suzette."

At the mention of her name, the shopkeeper's expression grew cold and he gave a snort of derision.

"I pity you then, my dear," he informed her. "For that woman is nothing short of a…" he stopped there, clearing his throat as a sheepish look crossed his face. "Forgive me, I should not speak ill of one you are employed by. It is just that I have never liked that woman and could not for the life of me understand why a man as decent and good as Monsieur Trouville would have taken up with the likes of her."

Anna leaned in closer and whispered quietly, afraid that somehow Suzette would overhear if she spoke too loud. "To be honest, Monsieur…I can barely tolerate the woman myself." Her confession brought a smile to the man's lips and they both chuckled quietly over their private joke. "Still, employment is scarce and beggars can't be choosers," she added with a shrug. Anna then pointed to the dusty bundle of paper and asked, "How much do you charge for the music sheets?"

The shopkeeper did not have a chance to quote a price, for at that moment the other customer in the store stepped forward, breaking in on their conversation.

"Allow me to cover the cost of the paper, Mademoiselle…?" he offered, leaving his question open in hopes she might provide her name.

"It is Madame Silberg," she informed him, putting emphasis on the Madame part, thinking it might deter him if he were fishing for a social introduction. "And I am quite capable of paying for my own goods."

"I meant no disrespect, I assure you," he declared, taking a step back as he held up his hands in innocence. It was then that Anna spied the gold band on his left hand, signaling to her that he was a married man and causing her to relax slightly. "I just happened to overhear you mention that you work at the Trouville house, and I was hoping my offer would afford me a chance to speak with you."

"Ah yes," the shopkeeper spoke up, turning to Anna as he hurriedly explained. "Jacques Collier, here, knew your employer's husband very well. They were in business together, if I remember correctly."

"Well, I was Henri's lawyer, I would hardly call us business partners," the kind faced man laughed. "I never understood half the things that man dreamed up and created; I would have been lost and completely useless if I had joined his company."

"You knew him well then?" Anna asked, suddenly very interested in anything this gentleman had to say.

"I considered Henri Trouville one of my closest friends and I grieved dearly at his sudden death." Monsieur Collier closed his eyes and looked downward for a moment, obviously still affected by the loss. "If it will not offend you, Madame, I would very much like to purchase the paper in exchange for a few minutes of your time. I have a few questions about my friend's affairs that perhaps you might be able to shed some light upon." He held up the cello strings he had come to purchase and nodded to the ream and pencils, continuing to smile at Anna while the storekeeper wrote up the two purchases together. Once he paid, Monsieur Collier carried her parcel outside, gesturing towards a small bench under a tree where they might sit and talk.

Anna felt a bit uncomfortable about allowing him to obtain the goods for her, yet to be honest, from the amount of money she saw the gentleman hand over, she would not have been able to afford the paper in the first place. Suzette might pay her regularly, but her salary certainly did not amount to very much, and the expensive sheets would have set her back quite a bit.

"I must apologize once more for eavesdropping on your conversation, but I have not had such an opportunity as this in many years," he explained. "As Henri's friend and lawyer, I was left to handle his estate and financial affairs when he was tragically killed eight years ago. It was a shock to us all, for you see the building he had been hired to renovate was structurally unsound and one of the support beams gave way, bringing half the ceiling and one of the stone walls crashing down on him, crushing and killing him instantly. I was the one left with the responsibility to see that his final wishes were carried out. When he first drew up his will, Henri had stipulated that his architectural company was to be split amongst several board members, with some shares allotted to key employees. But a little over a year before his death he came to me and had me alter the section pertaining to his personal assets, leaving everything, all his money, stocks and bonds, to any future heir he might produce. I thought him mad for doing so, for at the time there was nothing that led me to believe his wife was with child or that they were even close to expecting children. Yet, Henri would not be dissuaded, having me draw up the papers and signing them that very day."

"That is very strange indeed," Anna commented, this information leaving more questions in her mind than answers.

"When he died a year later, I went to Suzette and questioned her about this, explaining that the will was ironclad and there was no way she could contest it," Collier continued. "I asked her point blank if there was any chance that Henri had fathered a child before his death, but she refused to answer me and I was rudely tossed out. I became very suspicious when Suzette shut herself up in the house, a veritable recluse these past years. I will not lie and say that the rumors I have heard bandied about town have not concerned me, yet I fear none of them have ever been confirmed. So when I heard you mention that you worked at the house, I thought perhaps you could answer the question that has been burning a hole in my mind all these years."

"And what question is that, Monsieur?" Anna asked apprehensively.

"Is there a legal heir to the Trouville estate hidden away in that house, as gossip suggests?" he posed, looking her squarely in the eye in hopes of discerning an answer.

Anna felt trapped. While she did not feel this man had any nefarious motives, she had sworn to Suzette when she took that job that she was not the busybody type or prone to senseless chatter. Still, if it could possibly help Erik in any way, she could not keep silent. Anna would have to choose her words carefully, for fear anything she disclosed might come back on her at a later date.

"I am not at liberty to respond with a yes…or a no, Monsieur," she began slowly, hoping that he would catch on to her roundabout way of answering. "But let me ask you this…if there were an heir, say about seven and a half years of age, what would be his legal recourse?"

"Well…" Collier knowingly answered, his eyes narrowing as he began to see just what she might be hinting at. "If such a child did exist, he would stand to inherit everything his father left for him…when he reached legal age of course. Until then, the money would be held in trust by the person his father had appointed as the executor."

"And who might that person be, Monsieur Collier?" Anna persisted.

"Certainly not Suzette!" he replied with a snort. "My law firm has been looking after Henri's financial interests and he appointed me as the chief signer on the account. We have created quite a portfolio and invested in different stocks and bonds, causing his fortune to grow in value each year. If there were such an heir, he will be a rich man one day."

"And if no such child existed?" Anna asked.

"Then the entire amount would be donated to several foundations and charities stipulated in Henri's will." The man then leaned in a bit closer to Anna, causing her to pull back ever so slightly at the invasion of her personal space. "I have held off doing so in the hopes that my instincts were correct, that Henri had suspected that he would soon have an heir and it was not just wishful thinking on his part that had him smiling again. Though I am still unable to understand why Suzette will not speak to me or confirm the existence of such a child. It makes no sense!"

"Well, Monsieur," Anna once more attempted to be as vague and noncommittal as possible in her next statement. "Hypothetically speaking, what if this child was…different?"

"Different? In what way?" he prodded.

"What if he were…deformed?" she quickly spit out, afraid if she hesitated she might lose her courage. "In all other ways healthy and bright, near genius in fact, but unable to interact with regular society due to an abnormal face - as well as a mother who is ashamed of him! Would this have any bearing on the case or his potential inheritance?"

"Absolutely not!" Jacques Collier assured her, appearing almost offended at her question. "Any heir of Henri's would be regarded as a viable recipient no matter their appearance!" He then cleared his throat and straightened his posture. "However, that is all contingent on there truly being such a child, which you have in no way confirmed or denied, of course," he said with a smile and a wink, letting Anna know that he would not hold her to anything she had just theoretically admitted to. "Yet I thank you for giving me the motivation to continue managing Henri's assets myself and not handing them over to the aforementioned charities."

"May I inquire about Monsieur Trouville," Anna asked, suddenly wishing to know more about Erik's mysterious father. "What sort of man was he? Did he love Suzette and would he have been a good father?"

"I had known Henri for many years, both before and after his taking a wife, and I have to say that he was undoubtedly the most brilliant and generous man I had ever had the pleasure to be acquainted with," Collier told her proudly. "Everyone that knew him liked him very much, except perhaps a few rival businessmen, for you see his genius put them all to shame. He was also a very talented musician and it was at that very store we just left that I first met him. I only dabble myself, but Henri could play, write and compose like no one I had ever seen. Through the years we formed a close friendship as he taught me how to improve on the cello, while I marveled at his mastery over every instrument he touched. Yet when he met his future wife and fell in love with her, he changed…Suzette changed him. It was obvious to everyone but him that she was only after his money, that a spoiled sixteen year old like her was incapable of returning the love he showered upon her. Henri might have been a genius when it came to money and music, but in matters of the heart he was like a little boy, easily deceived and unwilling to hear anyone speak out against her. He had high hopes that she would soon bless him with many children, and during the first three years of their marriage it appeared in his eyes she could do no wrong. Henri spoke of little else, of how he wished to be a father and be able to pass on his knowledge, his love of music and architecture as well as his fortune to a child. He truly would have excelled in that role. Yet it appeared that the woman he chose had other ideas about the institution of motherhood and by the fourth year of their union, he began to lament to me Suzette's apparent reluctance to give him the offspring he desired. Perhaps it was wrong of me, but I began to wonder if, unbeknownst to Henri, Suzette might have been taking something to prevent the conception of a child."

Anna saw the hurt in Jacques' eyes as he spoke about his friend, saddened by the unfortunate turn of events he was now revealing to her.

"Did he ever realize his mistake in choosing such a wife?" Anna persisted.

"Near the end…yes," the lawyer sadly confirmed. "I will never forget the night he came to my home, falling down drunk and in tears. He had caught Suzette in the arms of another man, some traveling merchant I believe, and it had nearly destroyed him. It was days before he dared return home, fearing in his present state of mind he would have done the vile wench serious harm for her act of betrayal. Yet eventually he did calm down, managed to come to terms with her infidelity and set out to make things right. However, it was only days later that he asked me to remove her from his will.

"He left her with nothing upon his death? No income to sustain her at all?" Anna was a bit confused by this. If that were true, where did the money for her salary come from, or that which Suzette so readily spent on trips and bottles of wine?

"As angry and hurt as he was, Henri was not a heartless man. Despite her betrayal, he still made provisions for her welfare. He left her the deed to the house he had built for her and a generous stipend that could have easily lasted her the rest of her life, if she had chosen to spend it wisely…which she did not. Besides, Suzette came from a wealthy family who had money to burn, so it was not as if she would have been left on the streets should anything ever happen to him…which unfortunately it did. From what he related, Henri had told her he would amend the will and possibly reinstate her, but only upon the birth of their first child. Yet a year went by and there was still no sign of that happening, plunging Henri into deep melancholy. It was only a short time before his death that he seemed to brighten, hinting that something in his life had changed, offering him a measure of joy. At first I had thought Henri might have found himself a new love, yet he was far too noble a man to act in such a manner. So I was left to conclude that perhaps Suzette was at last with child, but Henri was killed before I could find out for sure. Everyone, including me, expected Suzette to immediately remarry, searching out another wealthy man to take Henri's place. Yet like I said, instead she became a recluse, hiding away in that house with nary a peep out of her in over half a dozen years. However…given the hypothetical situation you just posed, I can now understand why she might have felt the need."

"So where does that leave you, Monsieur Collier?" Anna questioned. "What will you do now?"

"I will continue to look after my friend's interests and wait for the day when an heir might surface and claim his rightful inheritance," he admitted. "Someone who would be coming of age in about ten years, who might have a facial deformity and…?" once again he left his statement open, fishing for more details.

"And jet black hair, a tall but thin frame and piercing amber eyes," Anna filled in, a smile spreading across her face as she ticked off Erik's extraordinary features. She found it odd when her last description caused the lawyer to chuckle slightly.

"Forgive me for my rudeness," he apologized quickly. "But you see, other than the abnormal face, you have just described Henri to a tee, right down to the rare shade of gold in his eyes. I expect with those distinct features, I will have no trouble recognizing such a man should he come calling one day."

"No, I suppose you wouldn't," Anna grinned. "Assuming such a person truly existed."

"Of course," Collier nodded solemnly before giving her a knowing smile.

The two then said their goodbyes, the kind lawyer promising to never disclose what was said that day as Anna hurried back to the Trouville home, already fearing she had been gone far longer than was required. Her heart was a bit lighter knowing that even though Erik's mother fell short of the mark for a good parent, his father had not. Even beyond the grave, Henri Trouville had made arrangements to care for his child, showing his love for the boy the only way he could. It was truly a shame the man had not lived long enough to discover what an amazing son he had fathered.

Unsure when, or even if, she should share her newfound information with Erik, she kept it to herself for now, fearing that if it were ever to make its way back to Suzette, there would be hell to pay. If she told Erik anything about his father it would only bring up more questions that Anna was not sure his young mind could currently process. His fortune would be there waiting for him when he reached the age of maturity; until then, he was still at the mercy of Suzette and her volatile whims. So filing it securely away, Anna withheld from everyone the information she had learned that day.

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Erik was beside himself with excitement when she gave him the staff paper, and after that he would spend every moment he could in the cellar, writing, rewriting and playing his compositions. Anna would sometimes become lonely while cleaning and venture down, sitting there in amazement as she listened to the beauty he would create. One day it occurred to her that while he could bring such life and fire to his music, he had never written lyrics for any of his songs.

"Erik," she began, thankfully during a moment when he was not so engrossed in his work and he actually heard her. "Why is it that you do not add words? Your music is beautiful, but wouldn't it be even better if someone could sing along?"

He looked up from the piano, his fingers hovering over the keys in a moment of deep contemplation.

"I do like it when you sing words in your songs," he admitted at last. "But what if I write the wrong thing? What if the words cannot convey the thoughts that are in my mind when I play? They would have to be perfect."

"Music does not have to be perfect," she argued, watching him pull back in horror at her scandalous claim. She laughed to herself as she approached, placing her hands on his bony little shoulders. "As long as it comes from the heart, then, and only then, it will be perfection itself. Do you understand?"

"Music comes from the heart?" he repeated, a cross between a question and a statement.

"Everything worth doing, or having, in life must come from your heart, Erik. For your heart is where love begins and grows. If you love something, or someone, you must not be afraid to let it out. Learn to take a risk now and then." She leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of his head. "But even if you do, always remember two things: be good and never forget you are a gentleman. One day, when you are older, you will understand," Anna promised, heading back upstairs and leaving him to his work.

Well now you know more about Erik's father, Henri Trouville. What a sweet man...oh if only he had lived *sniff, sniff*

And you met Monsieur Jacques (Jack) Collier - what do you think of him?

Erik has a piano! There is NO STOPPING HIM NOW!

How are the feels feeling now?