Healing Hands

Meanwhile in that time, Rahim had given Erik a dose of morphine and carefully finished applying sutures to the wound after he had managed to stop the bleeding. Then, with a little help from Christine, he carefully wrapped bandages around Erik's torso after he noticed that Erik winced from pain due to great bruising around his ribcage. After they had finished, they put a clean shirt on him and gently applied liniment on the cuts and bruises on his face.

After almost two hours, Christine and Rahim waited for Erik to wake up. Soon, they heard a deep groan emit from Erik as he opened his eyes. He looked up to find his wife looking concerned but relieved.

"Ch-Christine…" he whispered.

"Oh, Erik," she sighed in relief. "Thank God you're all right." She gently touched his unmasked face and gave him a gentle kiss. She had to hold back tears as his right hand reached up to touch her face.

"Those gypsies gave you quite a thrashing, my friend," said Rahim. "You will be sore for a while. No playing the violin for the time being," he said, half joking to which Erik gave a weak smirk.

"Do you remember what happened?" asked Christine.

"The gypsies…beat me and tied me to a tree. Then, I heard a sweet voice calling to me...Marigold…She and Frans freed me and we…we tried to escape. Then, she tripped and fell and…that bastard was going to throw a knife at her…so I shielded her with my body and the knife struck me. Then…I think she threw one of my trick smoke pouches at them…and we were able to escape," he muttered, breathlessly. He closed his eyes as the remaining amounts of morphine made him weary. He tried with all his strength to stay awake.

"It's unlikely those gypsies will come back. Not when you escaped and could alert the authorities to their hideout. They will have no doubt cleared the area well before morning. You are very fortunate that your daughter and her friend had found you just in time. We may not have been able to track their camp as quickly as they did. Your daughter must love you very much," said Rahim.

At those words, Erik, suddenly feeling a little more alert, wearily tried to sit up a little in bed despite Christine's protests. He put his mask back on his face.

"Christine, could you…please bring Marigold to me?" he whispered weakly.

"Erik, I think you need to rest some more. You've been injured badly," said Christine.

He looked at her imploringly. "Please…I must see her."

"But Erik, it's the middle of the night. They were both so exhausted, so I sent her and Frans to their bedrooms. What if she's fast asleep?"

"I just…want her to see that I'm all right. She must be so worried. At least, she will sleep better after I see her. And she did save my life. Allow her this much. Please, my love…bring her to me," he implored again.

Not having the heart to refuse him, Christine gently kissed his hand and smiled, acquiescing to his request. She exited the bedroom and made her way to the sitting room, followed by Rahim. When they entered the room, Christine looked fondly as she found Frans and Marigold had both fallen asleep. Frans was laying on the settee in his pajamas and dressing robe. Marigold was curled up on the lounge chaise in her nightgown and dressing gown. Both of them looked completely exhausted. As Christine quietly approached her sleeping daughter, she could see the drying tear stains on her cheeks which stung her heart a little as she thought about how worried Marigold must have been.

She gently woke her daughter. "Marigold, wake up for a moment."

Wearily, Marigold open her eyes and squinted to see her mother in the dimly lit room. "Mother? What's wrong? Is Father all right?" she muttered sleepily.

"He is awake and recovering, but he's still very weak. I know you're tired but he very much wants to see you. Why don't you go to him for a few minutes? But not too long, he needs his rest and you need yours as well."

Marigold instantly perked up as she rose from the chaise and slowly made her way toward the bedroom. As she walked quietly down the dark hallway, she saw the faint glow of the lamp shining through the slightly ajar door. She remembered how Erik would come to sit by her bedside when she had been sick or injured in the past, but now she herself felt nervous about seeing how her father was after the frightening ordeal.

Quietly as she could, she gently pushed open the door and peaked into the bedroom. She saw her father slightly sitting up in bed wearing black trousers and a new white shirt. His mask was on but she saw that he still had some bruises on his face. His head was wearily leaning against the headboard as he tried to shake off the remaining effects of the morphine. She nearly mistook him to be asleep but the gentle creak of the wood door opening had stirred Erik a little. As he saw his daughter, his eyes lit up and he smiled weakly.

"Ah…there you are," he whispered weakly to her. She felt as shy as a fawn as she walked closer to him. He looked so pale and fragile, a great contrast to the strong persona he usually put on. "Come closer…It's all right," he said, reaching out to her with his right hand. He beckoned to her until she pulled a footstool out and sat by his bedside. The footstool made her feel very short and as Erik was still very tall even while sitting up, she looked up at him with worry written in her eyes. He saw how tired she looked and he traced his finger around her face.

"I'm sorry that you had to be woken up, but I…just really wanted to see you," he whispered kindly. Despite his condition, he smiled beamingly at her. She was a sight for his sore eyes. Though he tried to put on a brave face, Marigold's heart ached to see him looking so frail.

"Are you all right, Father?" she asked shyly.

"I've managed through worse…but I think…your old father just isn't the fighter that he once was." He groaned weakly as his mask rubbed against the cuts on his face.

"You know that you don't have to wear your mask in front of me anymore. It must be uncomfortable," she said softly as she gently removed his mask. He winced a little as the mask brushed against the bruises. She gave a small gasp as she could see the scrapes and bruises much clearer in the light than in the forest. She reached up and gently touched his face. He shuddered as her soft little hand made his wounds sting. Her eyes were full of worry.

"Shh…Please, don't worry so for me…I only wanted to see if you were all right. You aren't hurt, are you?" he asked softly.

Marigold looked sadly at him. "No, Father. I'm not hurt. But you… got hurt trying to protect me. If I hadn't fallen, this wouldn't have happened to you," she said tearfully.

He placed his hand on her cheek and looked at her with a serious expression. "If I didn't shield you from that knife, you would have surely been killed...I only did what any father would have done."

Marigold gently nuzzled against his hand and smiled a little, trying to hide her sadness. With all her heart, she wished she could bury her face into his arms and cry with relief that he was alive. But like him, she tried to put on a brave face, though she wasn't sure how long she could keep doing so. An unfamiliar pain stung at her heart and she wasn't sure how to express it.

Exhaustion creeping upon her, Marigold yawned a little as Christine came into the bedroom. "Marigold, why don't you tell your father goodnight so he can get some more rest? You need your rest as well and it's very late. I'm sure you can both talk some more later."

Erik nodded wearily. "Your mother is right…As much as I still long to talk with you some more, we both need our rest… As soon as I'm able to, I would like to take a stroll with you one afternoon so we can talk more." He smiled weakly at her. "Sleep well…" he said in a tone of voice that made her feel even more tired.

Marigold nodded sleepily but sadly. She didn't want to leave since she knew he had more to say to her, but exhaustion was overcoming her and she quietly made her to the door. "Good night, Father…" she whispered. As Christine led Marigold towards the staircase, she saw that Frans had gone upstairs to his bedroom and Rahim had fallen asleep on the settee. She whispered good night to Marigold and watched her quietly go upstairs to her room.

When the household was quiet and everyone was asleep, she made her way back to the bedroom. The room was slightly dark save for the faint glow of the oil lamp but it made the atmosphere calming. It was already two o'clock in the morning. Feeling too exhausted to change into her nightgown, she climbed into the bed and gently laid down next to Erik, taking great care not to jostle his injuries.

She turned over to her side and looked over at Erik, who was trying very hard to stay awake. Keeping his arm still, he held his left hand opened and she took it as a sign that he wanted to hold her hand. He turned his head to her and looked at her lovingly.

"Are you all right, my love?" he whispered weakly.

The truth was that the entire ordeal had left Christine feeling frazzled and worn after nearly losing Erik and coming home to find Marigold and Frans were gone. She didn't have the heart to scold either of them since her beloved Erik was alive because of them. She wished she could just bury her face into his chest crying. But she tried to keep

"I will be. I just feel very tired. This whole ordeal has been quite draining," she murmured wearily.

"I just realized I never got to thank her before she went upstairs."

"You'll have another chance to talk with her again, Erik. When you've had more rest and when you're feeling better. We really must get some rest."

Erik nodded sleepily as the morphine was just too strong for him to overcome. "Shame this wound is keeping me from holding you in my arms…" he murmured sleepily. Finally, he drifted off to sleep as Christine looked down at him lovingly until sleep finally took her.