The Love of a Father

Autumn 1887

After a long day at the theatre, Erik was looking forward to coming home and being with his wife and daughter. It was a late gray Autumn evening as the chill of the wind blew and sent the leaves in a frenzy. As he approached the cottage, he brought Caesar inside the stable and wearily entered through the front door. Rather quickly, he removed his normal face mask and put back on his white mask when he was out of sight.

He walked through the hallway towards the kitchen where Christine was busy cooking and boiling water for tea. When she saw Erik, she greeted him with a kiss. He looked very tired. "Ah, my angel. You're a lovely sight for sore eyes."

"Oh, Erik, you look exhausted," said Christine.

"I am a little. But I'm glad to finally come home to be with my little family."

"Well, we did eat our dinner a little while ago, but I can rewarm the soup on the stove for you, if you like?"

"Perhaps later. I'm not terribly ravenous at the moment," he said wearily.

"Well, if you go into the sitting room, I think there's someone in there who will cheer you up. I'll make some tea for us," said Christine, tending to the soup.

Erik quietly walked toward the sitting room where his tired eyes met another sweet sight. Little three-year-old Marigold was playing on the floor in her little nightgown. A musical box with a Persian monkey playing symbols was playing a gentle tune. She was unaware that Erik was in the room. Putting his hat down on the end of the chaise, he walked a little closer and knelt down behind her.

"Well, hello there, sweetling," he said softly.

She turned around and smiled happily when she saw her father. "Papa!"

She stood up and reached up for Erik, who picked her up in his arms and kissed her forehead. Walking over to the settee, he sat down and settled her in his lap. He looked down at his little girl. She had short little brown curls and the sweetest dimpled smile he had ever seen. Though she had his yellow amber eyes, he noticed how hers were much brighter and starrier eyed than his and while she could not speak full words yet, she knew a few words.

"I've missed you! Did you miss me too?"

"Yes," she said.

"What were you playing with?"

She pointed at the musical box.

"I see. Do you like the music box that Papa made for you?" he asked.

"Yes."

Then, Marigold saw Erik's fedora hat sitting on the chaise, jumped off his lap and ran to pick it up.

"Are you going to be a good girl and put Papa's hat away?"

Marigold shook her head, smiling. "No. My hat." She put his hat on which nearly covered her whole head.

Erik chuckled. "That hat is much too big for you, my darling."

"My hat," she giggled.

"Give Papa his hat," he said playfully.

Marigold shook her head again, giggling. Why is she just too adorable? Erik thought.

"Oh dear, you know what this means?" He grinned playfully, reaching out and wiggling his fingers. "I'm going to get you!" he cooed.

Marigold gleefully squealed as Erik playfully chased her around the room. Being a toddler, she couldn't run faster than him. But he played along with her game until he finally caught her. She giggled adorably as he scooped her up, laid her on the settee and sat over her. "I've got you now, my little one!" he chuckled playfully. "Tickly, tickly, tickly!" He began tickling her little feet, sending her into a frenzy of squeals and giggles. She giggled until at last he stopped. Still exhausted, he leaned back against the settee and sighed. Marigold sat up and crawled back into Erik's lap, looking up at him curiously.

"Papa sleepy?" she asked.

"Yes, Papa is a little tired," he sighed wearily. Then, Marigold hopped off his lap and walked to the other side of the settee, looking for something.

"Mari? What are you looking for?" he asked.

She toddled back to him holding her yellow knit blanket, draped it over his lap and tried to cover him up to his chest. Then, she settled back into his lap.

"Now, Papa comfy," she giggled.

Well, thank you, my fairy." he said. She cuddled up close to him as they sat quietly while Christine brought the tea tray in and made two cups of tea. While Christine did so, Marigold looked up at Erik's mask curiously.

"Want to see, Papa."

Erik looked down at her nervously. "What?" he shuddered.

"Want to see," she said, as she tried to reach up and touch Erik's mask. He gasped when her hands nearly pulled the mask off.

"No!" he nearly shouted, taking hold of her hands. Gasping at his outburst, she whimpered, afraid he would shout at her. Erik looked at her and sighed, attempting to speak calmly. He gently took her hands into his hand and softly caressed her cheek. "No, my fairy," he said softly. "You mustn't see Papa's face."

"Why not?" she asked innocently.

Erik glanced nervously at Christine, unsure of what to say. Christine simply nodded reassuringly at Erik. Then, he turned to look down at Marigold, softening his expression.

"Well, because…you aren't quite old enough to see my face yet. You're still very little, my child. Perhaps one day, when you're older and when we've had a little talk, you may see my face. All right?"

She nodded sadly and cuddled against his chest as he cradled her in his arms, gently rocking her a little.

She looked up at him sadly. "Papa angry?"

"No, no, I'm not angry at you. Don't you worry about that," he said, lovingly. He traced his finger around her cheek. "I love you…I love you so much."

"I love you, Papa," she said sleepily. Her eyes were slowly drooping but she tried to stay awake. Chuckling, Erik caressed her hair and face soothingly.

"Are you sleepy?" he cooed.

"Not sleepy," she murmured, rubbing her eyes.

"Oh, but I think you are…such sleepy eyes," he cooed in a hypnotic tone that made even Christine feel tired. Then, he began to sing softly to her.

Lavender's blue, dilly dilly, Lavender's green
When I am king, dilly dilly, You shall be queen

Who told you so, dilly dilly, Who told you so?
'Twas my own heart, dilly dilly, That told me so

Lavender's green, dilly dilly, Lavender's blue.
If you love me, dilly dilly, I will love you.

It was a strange phenomenon about Erik's hypnotic voice and how it could easily make the listener bend to his will. For in no time at all, Marigold was sleeping soundly in his arms. Erik sighed lovingly and kissed her forehead.

Christine sat down next to Erik on the settee, setting the teacups down. "That was a sweet song."

"She seems to like it, especially when I sing it to her."

She looked at him curiously. "How do you do it?" she asked.

"Do what?"

"How do you make your voice sound so sweet, hypnotic, and soothing?"

"The gift of an angel's voice as well as the curse of a demon's face, I suppose. But why it is so hypnotic, well, I'm afraid a magician never reveals his secrets."

Christine smirked a little. She took a sip from her tea as she sat pensively.

"So, you don't want her to see your face?"

"No."

"You still feel she isn't ready?"

"I…I can't. I just can't. She's just so young and innocent. I can't frighten her when she's still so little. It would break my heart. I don't know if or when she will be ready to see my face. But I am her father, and I will do whatever is necessary to protect her." He looked down at her lovingly. "What a shame she has to grow up. If only she could stay my little girl."

"Well, as I said, it is entirely your decision to make. But she may eventually need to know one day, and when she does, I have no doubt she will still love you," said Christine.

Erik sighed. "I know. I'm just not ready for that day."