In the last chapter, Archie told me about Julia's brother planning a visit. He was concerned. Now I am also concerned.

Look for a very short story about Alex coming very soon. In the next two weeks it should be on It is not yet titled. Probably will be called Things Learned through the Heart.

Ghost25

Archie's words left me in a foul mood. My stomach knotted as I thought of Julia and the horrors of her past. Despite never having made his acquaintance, I worried for her safety while her brother was in Paris.

It would be difficult to protect her from my home. What I feared was that I would be as successful at guaranteeing her safety as I had been in the years before I finally ended her hell with Louis. If I had known we would have a relationship in the years that followed I would have murdered that man on the first night I moved into the house.

Her muffled screams still whispered through my mind, little ghosts of a past she wanted to forget and I wanted to erase from existence. I felt like I had wasted my years bleeding my heart for Christine when I should have dedicated my nights to Julia.

I wished I had known her all of my life. When I looked at my beautiful Julia I wished I had known her since childhood. Through the crack in the cellar door I had watched boys and girls interact. That was what I wanted, a lifelong friend, which was what I perceived these children to be. Any friend, really, as beggars cannot be choosers, but I could not imagine anything sweeter than saying I had known Julia all of my life.

The way Archie had known her. The way Raoul knew Christine. The way I knew darkness and solitude.

Everything would have been different had I known Julia. I would have been a better man and she would not have a small scar by her eye or the invisible internal scars of being beaten and raped by the man who had sworn to love her.

The night I killed Louis I pledged she would never experience such torment again. It made bile rise in the back of my throat to think that her brother's visit was a threat to her safety.

From what I knew of Max he was a strict man. After Julia's father died, Max had assumed the role of patriarch for the family. By his mere presence he usurped power from his uncles and cowed them into submission.

When Julia spoke of him her voice shook. She was terrified of him, of her own brother. I knew how it felt to fear a family member and it made my blood boil to think she was frightened of Maximilian.

I vowed he would come to Paris and find his own reason to feel fear if he so much as looked at her in a way I disapproved of.

"Do you want lemonade?" Meg asked, interrupting my thoughts. I had forgotten that she walked into the parlor.

"Yes," I replied without hesitation. I needed something to drink. Lemonade would have to suffice.

She smiled and set a cup of sugar cubes on the table before leaving an empty glass and a pitcher of lemonade. She knew me well to bring extra sugar.

"You are taking lunch at…" She paused when I tossed the spoon aside and dumped the sugar cubes into the empty glass. "…Madame Seuratti's today?"

"Yes, Alex will be gone as well," I answered as I poured lemonade into the glass and stirred up my concoction. "Have his studies commenced for the day?"

Meg was so silent that I glanced at the doorway to see if she was still standing there. She was staring at the glass in my hand and the snowstorm of sugar spinning around.

"Do you always use so much?"

"What of it? Are you attempting to shame me for using what I pay for in my own house?"

"No, I was thinking that if you require more sugar I'll bring an extra bowl up to your room," she said, ignoring my outburst.

I nodded curtly and took a sip of my drink. Perhaps an entire cup of sugar was a bit much, I thought, but I valiantly gulped it down lest Meg say anything.

"How are you feeling?" I asked before Meg left.

"Fine," she answered.

"Did you eat?"

"Yes. Plenty." She turned to leave.

"How long have you been on your feet?"

"I've been mending clothes for most of the morning. You needn't worry about me." She spun around to face me again, her eyes sweeping through the room. "Do you need anything else…Erik?"

It was strange to hear her say my first name. I pulled my lips into a nervous smile. "No, I'm fine, thank you."

"The post arrived. Your bedroom door was open so I left it on your writing desk."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. I hope you and Alex enjoy lunch," she said before she turned and walked from the room, closing the door behind her.

The sugar made me sick to my stomach. I heard Charles and Alex across the hall as I left the parlor. Before I could pass by unnoticed and return to my room, Alex called out to me.

"How many broccoli florets do you think you could put into your mouth all at once?"

"Pardon me?"

These were the questions he asked that made me wonder what Charles taught him all day.

With an exasperated sigh, Alex asked me again. I scratched behind my ear and studied him before looking to Charles, who looked embarrassed and gave a shrug as a response to my questioning gaze.

"Alex, I have no idea."

"May we find out?"

I shifted my weight. "What purpose does this serve?"

"It's an experiment," he explained. "Charles has agreed to participate."

"Monsieur—" Charles started nervously.

"Why are you experimenting with broccoli florets?" I asked.

"It's for my essay on the most fascinating person I know," Alex answered. "I need…." He turned to Charles, who whispered to him. "I need to gather information to make a clear choice."

"And the broccoli will bring you to a sufficient conclusion?"

Alex responded with a maniacal laugh. It was in no way comforting.

"We'll discuss this later," I said, motioning him to his feet. "Dress for lunch with Madame and Mademoiselle Seuratti."

Alexandre happily bounded out of the room, arms swinging and feet skipping down the hall. He had made up a simple tune about lunch that he sang all the way to his room. I heard him say 'Lisette looks like a toad because she's gonna be my sister' before he closed the bedroom door.

"Charles," I said once we were alone.

He looked surprised to see me still standing in the library but smiled warmly. "He has short lessons today," Charles said. "Arithmetic, Monsieur. I find Alex does better when his lessons in subjects that don't interest him are sporadic."

I nodded.

"And I suspected lunch would curtail studies for the day."

"He may finish what you have planned later in the afternoon," I replied.

"As you wish, Monsieur."

Whenever I spoke with Charles I couldn't imagine the man involved in combat. He and Meg—before her condition—were the perfect docile match. Charles in particular was soft-spoken. Meg had her moments of grumbling and stomping about the house when something ruffled her feathers but Charles was a bird of a different feather. Anything that arose in the household rolled off his back like water from a duck.

For that reason alone, Charles always fascinated me. He wrote papers for extra income. Several universities were very interested in what he had to say about science and history, both of which had been his main studies. When his papers were not accepted he simply tried again.

We were opposites. On the rare occasion that one of my operas or pieces of music was denied I sulked for weeks and threatened to quit writing music altogether. I envied Charles and his unassuming nature.

"May I help you with something, Monsieur?" Charles asked once he discovered I wasn't looming in the doorway for details of Alexandre's studies.

"Charles, I believe we are contenders in the running for the most fascinating men Alex knows," I sighed. I glanced around the room, attempting to decide whether or not I would sit.

"Yes, we had Madame Seuratti and my wife as competition."

"But they're women."

"I believe Meg was eliminated when she made Alex wipe his face. I'm not sure what Madame Seuratti did," he said with a chuckle.

"Once Meg's condition becomes obvious to the eye she might beat us both."

He sobered immediately. Before he could speak, I lifted my hand and shook my head.

"You're both still employed and permitted to live under my roof. I've discussed this already with Meg."

"It's very kind of you," Charles replied humbly.

I merely nodded. It was far too humiliating to tell him that I couldn't bear the thought of seeing them leave. They were the only people I knew aside from Madeline and Julia. Even if I didn't eat dinner with them or speak with them on a regular basis, it was enough for me to know that they were there in my home.

When I looked at Charles I wanted to pity him. From his vivid retellings of safaris and travels he had been a very social man. By nature I was a recluse. There had not been a choice in the matter.

For Charles to leave the house it required Meg and Madeline and sometimes Alexandre to carry him down the stairs. What could be a sharper blow to one's manhood than having two women and a child physically carry him in and out?

Something should have been done. The architect of long ago elbowed his way through my mind and shook a blueprint at me.

"Well," I said, deciding against sitting. "Congratulations to you both."

"It seems life has been good to two old men lately," he said with another chuckle. He struggled to keep his smile but failed and looked away. He cleared his throat and pushed his wheelchair back from the desk. "We both know how things that seem like blessings can be taken away," he said quietly.

"True," I replied. I tapped my fingers on the door frame and attempted to think of a way to excuse myself. In the past I would have merely walked from the room, but I wasn't feeling inclined to leave so abruptly. "Good afternoon, Charles."

"Enjoy your day, Monsieur Kire," Charles replied.

I turned from him and still saw an image of a wooden platform and a ramp replacing the back stairs.