Note: I don't own 'Candle on the Water'. I love it, and it's one of my favorite songs, but I don't own it.
And guys, don't worry. I'd never kill off Charles. I don't think this story would let me. He wasn't originally part of my plan for this, but I looked back at what I had written one day, and there he was! So, if the story wants Charles in it, he will stay.
On to the story, now.
Back
XxX
That night marked the turning point.
Arabelle sighed, blinking slowly as she woke, and stretched.
For one moment, she forgot the last week and a half. For one moment, she fully expected to hear little Charles, trying to be stealthy, sneak into her room to see her before their parents woke up.
Then she remembered, and the tears came again.
Poor Charles. It's all my fault. Oh, little brother.
She got up, downcast, and dressed, walking to Charles's room to check on him, as she had every day since he'd gotten sick.
He was awfully pale, but was it just her imagination, or was the harsh red fever-flush across his face, a little less violent? Could he really be a bit better?
Slowly, not wanting to be proven wrong, Arabelle approached her little brother, and lay a gentle hand on his forehead.
She could have cried, screamed, danced; Charles's skin was cooler than he'd been before.
Relief washed over her, and she smiled. Really, truly smiled.
She hurried out of the room, and there was her mother, walking toward the stairs.
"Mama!" she called quietly, voice a wild whisper. "Mama!"
Christine turned at the sound of her daughter's voice. Arabelle was standing just outside the door to Charles's room, and the intensity in her daughter's voice made her worried.
What had happened now?
"Arabelle? What is it?"
Christine's voice was quiet, and worried. Had Charles gotten worse? Or was it all over?
A broad smile split Arabelle's face as she ran forward, and began tugging her mother toward her brother's room.
"Mama, I think Charles is getting better!" she explained, eyes shinning. "His fever is down!"
Christine's eyes went wide, and she went quickly to Charles's side, and gaged his fever for herself.
It was indeed a bit lower than it had been. Not by much, but the boy's temperature was less than it had been the previous night.
"Oh, thank God," Christine breathed. It wasn't much, she knew, but it most likely meant her son was on the mend.
"How is he?"
Both mother and daughter turned to the quiet voice to see Erik standing in the doorway, leaning against the wall, panting quietly.
Christine went to him, and drew him toward the chair.
"Sit, love," she instructed gently, "rest a bit."
Erik smiled quietly at her concern.
"How is Charles?" he asked again.
"Feel his forehead, Papa," Arabelle grinned.
Erik reached out, and laughed in relief when he felt his son's face.
"He'll be alright," he smiled, turning to Christine and Arabelle.
-
-
That night, Arabelle sat in the living room. She was well aware that it was past her bedtime, but she needed to play her violin.
She thought of Charles, and the random notes changed to a melody, one she knew the words to by heart, but had only ever heard played. Her ears remembered the tones, and her fingers picked them out as she quietly sang along.
"I'll be your candle on the water,
my love for you will always burn.
I know you're lost and drifting
but the clouds are lifting.
Don't give up, you have somewhere to turn.
I'll be your candle on the water,
'till every wave is warm and bright.
My soul is there beside you,
let this candle guide you.
Soon you'll see a golden stream of light.
A cold and friendless tide has found you,
don't let the stormy darkness pull you down.
I'll paint a ray of hope around you,
circling in the air,
lighted by a prayer.
I'll be your candle on the water,
this flame inside of me will grow.
Keep holding on, you'll make it,
here's my hand so take it.
Look for me, reaching out to show,
as sure as rivers flow,
I'll never let you go.
I'll never let you go.
I'll be your candle on the water...."
"You should be asleep, you know."
Arabelle jumped, gasping as she turned around.
There was her papa, standing in the doorway, arms crossed, looking stern, despite the exhaustion in his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Papa," Arabelle replied. "But I couldn't sleep, so I came down here to play. I didn't mean to wake you."
Erik smiled slightly.
"You didn't, dear-heart," he assured her. "Now, come back to bed, Arabelle. It's late, and you need your rest."
"Yes, Papa," Arabelle whispered, walking to his side.
Erik lightly wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
"That was a lovely song, dearest," he told her.
Arabelle smiled.
"It reminded me of Charles," she sighed. "Papa, I hope he won't take long to recover. I'm beginning to miss the little tricks he used to pull."
Erik laughed quietly.
"To be honest, Arabelle," he agreed, "so do I."
Arabelle smiled again, though there was a bit of sadness to it. She knew her papa, and he hadn't just thrown his arm around her shoulders at a whim. He usually did, but this was different. She also knew Erik had his pride. Her father would never ask his twelve-year-old daughter for help. He was a brave, independent man, she knew.
She said nothing. She knew the truth, and from the quiet, almost inaudible sigh, knew that he knew she understood. Perhaps it made him feel shame, to accept her quiet help, but she didn't care. If her papa needed someone, she would always be there.
-
-
"Charles, you have to take this," Arabelle reminded her little brother. "The medicine will help you get better."
Charles frowned.
"But it tastes awful," the boy argued, tightly shutting his mouth.
Arabelle fixed him with a firm glance.
"Charles," she warned, her eyes glinting, an edge to her voice. "Do you want to get worse? You may be starting to recover, dear brother, but you are still ill. Charles, you're worrying Mama and Papa. Me, too. Please?"
By the end of her little speech, the hard undercurrent had left Arabelle's voice, and she was back to gentle pleading.
Charles looked at his older sister, a bit of guilt creeping in. He was worrying her and their parents? He didn't want to upset them.
Sighing, he made a brave show of bracing himself, and opening his mouth to accept the syrup.
Charles shuddered as the medicine made its way down his throat. The taste was horrid, but Arabelle, Erik, and Christine, as well as Doctor Mason, had all assured him that it would help him to feel better.
"There now," Arabelle smiled, setting the bottle and spoon back on the night stand, and gently pressing Charles back down against the pillows. She tucked the blankets up around him warmly, and rested her hand lightly on his chest, gently rubbing it through the blankets. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" she asked, her eyes soft.
Charles dramatically clutched his throat, pulling a face.
"That was horrid!" he replied, shaking his head vigorously, as though that would help get rid of the taste.
Arabelle tried not to laugh at her brother's melodramatics. She knew that to him, it was completely serious, and appropriate to be disgusted with medicine. But still, it made her smile to see him looking so silly.
But she took the high road, and instead of lightly teasing her sweet little brother, she kissed his nose, and stood.
"Get some rest, Charles," she instructed gently. "Sleep well, little brother."
From the doorway, Arabelle turned back, and smiled as she watched Charles snuggle deeper into the blankets.
I love you, Charles, she thought. Get well soon, dear brother.
-
-
Cody walked Arabelle home again. She enjoyed every moment, whether the older boy saw her as anything more than a little girl, or not. He amazed her, really. Smart, tall, darkly handsome.
He reminded her of some of her papa's stories.
And Arabelle loved Erik's stories.
Phantom greeted her, barking wildly, his tail wagging. The dog was starting to get older, now, but he was still Arabelle's wonderful, loyal friend.
She ruffled his fur, and patted his head as she walked toward the house.
Erik met her at the door, and wrapped his arms around her, smiling.
"Hello, Papa," Arabelle grinned, her eyes shinning.
Her father gently held her face in his hands, and kissed her forehead.
"Did you have a nice day, dear-heart?" he asked, leading her into the living room.
Arabelle nodded.
"Cody walked me home, again," she told him. "He said he didn't like seeing me lonely."
Erik smiled, though inside, he groaned.
Dear God, she's only twelve! I won't give my twelve year old to a young man! Not a snowball's chance in Hell of that.
"He's a very nice boy, to see you safely home, dearest."
Arabelle smiled and leaned into Erik's side.
"How's Charles?" she asked softly, looking up sideways at her papa.
Erik indicated the living room.
Charles was sitting on the couch with Christine, dressed warmly, and wrapped in a thick quilt. The boy smiled when he saw his sister standing there, and Arabelle beamed, and went to his side, wrapping her arms around him.
"Feeling better, little brother?"
Charles nodded, and cuddled close to her. Arabelle smiled softly, and tightened her hold on him.
-
-
"Take care," Erik said gently, though his eyes were firm.
Arabelle nodded her agreement.
"I'll watch out for him, Papa," she promised.
"Both of you keep warm," Christine insisted, tying Charles's scarf around his neck.
Arabelle smiled.
"We will, Mama," she replied, pulling up the hood of her cloak, and taking Charles's hand. "Let's go, little brother."
Charles nodded, and followed her off down the road.
At the schoolhouse, the siblings found their friends standing in the shelter of a large pine tree.
Arabelle recognized Jillianna from behind easily. Her cloak was thick green cotton twill, with white rabbit fur trim (Arabelle's own was a deep, dark red, with black dyed fox fur, a gift from Erik last Christmas), and her hair was tied in a braid, held together with green ribbon.
Beside her stood Addison, his thick canvas coat edged with snow at the bottom.
Jason stood there beside his sister, and he saw Arabelle and Charles first.
Jillianna turned at her brother's incessant tugging on the edge of her cloak, and smiled at her friend and Arabelle's brother.
"It'th nithe to thee you back, Charleth," she smiled. "And hello, Arabelle."
Arabelle smiled, and Charles was about to respond, when little Anna, a friendly young girl with flame-red curls and a soft blue cloak popped up and took his hand, pulling him toward where she and her brother, Tom, played.
Anna had taken a liking to Charles. Once, during recess, Charles had been playing by himself, and the little girl had wandered over. She had seen his face, and her eyes had grown wide. At once, she was looking at him closely, telling him quietly that the little blue lines on his face were pretty, and reminded her of her mother's paints.
They'd been friends ever since. Tom had been a bit more wary of Charles than his younger sister, but Anna had ignored her brother from the start, and soon all three were good friends.
Arabelle watched her little brother running around with the other two. He still had a bad cough - the doctor had said it would linger for a while, but was ultimately harmless - but he was, for the most part, better.
Relief and happiness filled her.
After three weeks, all was finally back to normal.
XxX
Chapter has ended on a high note. Hope everyone's happy. Review please!