A Special Friendship

Summer 1893

After the windmill ordeal had passed, everyday life had long since resumed to normalcy. Marigold was somewhat hesitant to venture outside to play in the garden after the first few days, but eventually she was soon back to her usual self. Erik, meanwhile, had become somewhat more protective of her whenever she was outside by herself. Usually he kept a sharp eye on her if she was ever outside, which when after her love of the outdoors had returned, his protective nature had somewhat caused her a touch of frustration. At times she would long to do something different such as learn to ride a horse or explore a part of the woods. But Erik was still hesitant to allow her too far from his sight.

When two years had passed, Marigold had turned nine and was reaching a point in her life where she had yearned for a little independence. She also found herself yearning for a new friend. One late Summer afternoon, she was playing outside in the garden while Erik and Christine were inside the cottage. It wasn't until when Kit came running from the shrubs did something catch Marigold's attention. Kit was holding an object in her mouth. As Marigold took the object out of her mouth, she examined a hand-carved wooden object shaped like an hour glass.

"Where did this come from?" she said aloud to the dog, who just tilted her head to the side innocently. Marigold decided to walk a little to see in which direction Kit may have ran from. Then, she heard footsteps coming from beside the lane. Nervously, she started taking a few steps backwards, unsure of whether she should hurry back into the house if it was a stranger again. But to her surprise, a boy just around her age had appeared from around a tree.

The boy appeared to be around eleven years of age, just two years older than she. He was slightly taller than her, with brown hair and blue eyes. He was looking around the ground until he caught sight of Marigold. "Is that your dog?" he asked, pointing toward Kit.

Marigold kept a grip around Kit's collar when she barked at the boy. "Yes, she is. Why?"

"I think she ran off with my toy. Have you seen my diabolo?"

"I don't even know what that is," said Marigold, perplexed.

"It's a wooden toy shaped like an hourglass," he explained.

"Oh, you mean this thing here?" she said holding the toy out in her hand.

"It's not a thing. It's a diabolo. But yes, that's it," said the boy. He went up to retrieve it from her hand. "Thank you."

"Sorry," said Marigold. "Kit must have thought it was a dog toy. What is a…dia…diab…?"

"A diabolo. It's a Chinese balancing toy." He took out two sticks with a string attached between their ends and balanced the object onto the string as he carefully balanced it onto the string. Marigold was marveled by how careful his poise and balance was.

"Could I try it?" she asked. Frans gave her the two sticks and explained to her how to try to balance the object onto the strings, which of course was more difficult than it looked. She looked a little discouraged when she gave the toy back to him. "It looked much easier when you did it," she pouted.

"Don't worry. It took me ages before I got it right," he reassured her. "What is your name?"

"Marigold Renaud. What is yours?"

"Frans Lenoir. I live just down the lane with my grandfather," said Frans. Then, Kit walked up to Frans and sniffed his shoes.

"It's all right. She's friendly. Her name is Kit. She's actually our family dog but she seems to prefer to be with me more," said Marigold. They both turned their head towards the horse pasture, when Caesar gave a loud whinny.

"Are those your horses, too?" asked Frans.

"Well, they're my parents' horses. Come and see." She led Frans over to the gated pasture. "The black one is Caesar. He belongs to my papa," she said pointing at the black stallion. Then, she pointed at the tan mare with a dark brown mane and tail. "And she is Artemis. She's my mother's horse."

"Do you get to ride them whenever you like?" asked Frans.

"Not really. I want to so much but my father won't let me for some reason. I suppose he's afraid that I'll get hurt. But someday, I'm going to. In fact, if Caesar and Artemis ever have a baby, I want that to be my horse someday."

They spent a considerable time of talking while Christine was quietly watching them from the back door of the garden. She felt glad to see her daughter talking and playing with a child close to her own age for a change. It wasn't until she heard a knock at the front door, when her attention was diverted from the children. When she opened the door, she was greeted by a kindly, elderly man.

"Good afternoon, Madame Renaud," greeted Henri Lenoir, the owner of the Clasir Theatre and Erik's colleague as well as both their employer.

"Why, Monsieur Lenoir, good afternoon!" she said politely. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Forgive my unannounced calling but I am looking for my grandson. When last I looked in on him, he was playing in our front garden but the moment I turn around, he goes chasing after a dog down the lane. I thought he may have come around in this direction. Have you seen him? He's an eleven year old boy with brown hair and his name is Frans," said Lenoir.

"Oh, he must be the boy talking with my daughter outside. Please, follow me to the garden. I'm sure Erik will be done in his office momentarily." She said, leading Lenoir through toward the garden. When Lenoir saw his grandson playing with Marigold, he smiled a little. "Yes, that is my grandson, Frans. Thank goodness he didn't venture further than my old legs could follow."

Christine pulled a chair from the garden table. "Please, do sit down. I've just made some tea." Lenoir sat down as she went to fetch the tea tray. When she brought it to the table, Lenoir was watching the children fondly.

"It's good to see Frans with someone his own age. The boy has been quite lonely for a while. After his parents died, I hasn't been easy for him," he said.

"Yes, Erik did tell me you've been raising him ever since. I don't wish to pry but may I ask what happened?" asked Christine.

"Well, my son Armand and his wife Clorette had both died from a terrible outbreak of cholera after a long trip abroad. Frans was brought to my wife and I before the illness could take him as well. He was only two years old. My wife Delphine put all of her heart into raising him, to heal her grief of losing our son. Frans was very close to his grandmother. Unfortunately, she had passed away just three years ago. Her dear heart just simply gave out. Since then I have been his only living relative. Raising a child and managing a theatre has not been an easy task."

He turned towards Christine. "I must tell you how grateful I am for your husband to take on the position as co-manager. I have never seen such talent, vision, and musical intellect. He will bring great promise for the Clasir Theatre. I have long been looking for someone who will take my place after I too have passed on, which I fear may come all too soon."

"What do you mean 'all too soon'? Are you saying that you are…" shuddered Christine.

Lenoir sadly nodded. "I know I don't look it now, but I have been ill for some time. Medicines can only relieve but not cure. I've only just learned from my doctors that I don't have much longer now. It could be until this coming Winter, but certainly not after. I have not told Erik yet but I know the time will come when I must. I have not told Frans any of this and I don't know how I can. My greatest fear is that as he has no other relatives, I fear that he may end up in an orphanage but even that would not guarantee a secure future for him. I only hope that there is a family who can look after him until he comes of age."

Christine looked on sadly at the children, thinking about how she herself had been an orphan who was fortunate to have been placed with a caring adoptive family after her parents had both died. Though she had been much younger, it was sad to think of how much harder it was for older children to become adopted or taken in by caring families. Most older children were either sent to work houses or out to fend for themselves when they came of age.

It wasn't later on into the conversation when Erik finally emerged from the house and met them out into the garden. "Why, Henri!" he exclaimed. "This is an unexpected pleasure. I hope you have been well attended to by my dear wife while I was occupied in my office."

"Indeed, Erik, your wife is a most gracious hostess. You must excuse my unannounced visit as I was looking for my grandson, Frans, whom I see has struck quite a friendship with your charming daughter there."

Erik looked on as the children were playing. "So he has," he said as he proceeded to take tea.

As the afternoon went one, it was nearly early evening when Lenoir noticed how much time had passed since he had been talking with Erik and Christine. "Goodness, look at the time! Frans, my boy, come along! It's time we went home. Forgive me, I fear we may have overstayed our welcome," he said as he stood up.

"No, not at all. We enjoyed the company. Please, tell Frans he may come to play with Marigold as often as he likes. They seem to have struck quite a special friendship," said Christine.

"Thank you, Madame Christine. You are very kind," he said giving her hand a kiss. "Erik, you have a charming family. You must be very fortunate to have such a lovely wife and daughter."

Erik nodded his head. "Thank you, Henri," he said sincerely. "I am indeed."

As they bid Lenoir and Frans farewell, Erik and Christine both walked over to Marigold as she made her way back to the garden. "Well, you seem to have found quite a special friend, Marigold," said Christine.

"Yes, Mama. We had such fun. I hope he can come by to play again. Can he, Papa?" she asked hopefully.

A little unsure, Erik looked over at Christine, who nodded her approval. Then, he gave a small smile. "All right, my sweet. Of course he can," he said warmly.

Delighted, Marigold gave him a warm embrace before they went back inside the cottage.