I just want to say how thankful I am that that French word for "home" is maison, which sounds a lot like Alex saying "May's Home". Talk about perfect! :)

Chapter 60

I built up the fire in my room but kept Alex downstairs with me in the parlor so that he would be downstairs once Meg returned. Contained in the smaller room, he enjoyed using the furniture to hold himself up and practice walking. With every step he took, he giggled to himself and made certain I watched his new talent.

The pride I felt watching him take his first steps was unmatched by any of my own accomplishments. To hell with selling an opera to a famed theater in Frankfurt. Alexandre was my truest joy.

Days had passed since we last saw one another and naturally Alex was not as excited to see me as he was to finally see Meg again. He pointed at the nativity Madeline had placed on the wooden mantel and I picked him up for a closer look. The Virgin Mary received a point of a chubby finger and was called May, whereas the infant in the manger Alex thought of as himself. He never assigned me a figurine, though I assume I would have been a camel at best.

He wanted desperately to hold the small statues, but given that they were fragile and Madeline would most likely murder me if any of them broke, I stepped back and told Alex he would have to wait for Meg before I placed him in the middle of his toys.

"May!" he shouted as he stared at the window. He was tall enough to finally look out on his own, although the hedges and snow stacked high in the flower boxes made it impossible for him to see much of anything. The windows fogged as well, and he pressed his face to the glass and kissed his reflection.

"Soon," I promised.

I wish I knew if he had heard a carriage pull up or heard her voice outside, but despite not being able to see past the snow, somehow Alex knew Meg had returned that very moment.

The turn of the lock in the front door made Alex and I turn to one another, and with a wide grin, he made his way around the room and toward the parlor door.

"Mother?" Meg called as she walked into the foyer.

A look of determination settled onto Alex's round face. He looked at me briefly, his dark eyes issuing a warning glance that told me he wanted no help from me.

"May," he said quietly as if he did not want her to hear him coming.

I watched him toddle out of the parlor, his steps as quick as his unsteady legs would allow. Once he made it into the hall with a wide turn, I stood and followed him.

Meg began to yell for Madeline again when she paused and saw Alex from the corner of her eye. She turned in enough time to gasp at the sight of him walking toward her...and see him fall face first onto the wooden floor with a tremendous thud.

Even from where I stood I cringed as he hit the ground no more than two feet from where she stood. I was certain he had either cracked open his head or lost a tooth based on the blood chilling thump of his body.

"Oh my God," Meg said as she immediately scooped Alex up and held him in her arms. "Oh, Alex, are you injured?"

She pulled him back for a better look, tears in her eyes as she ran her fingers through his hair and touched his rosy cheeks. At last she noticed me at the end of the hall and her look of concern for my son turned to indifference when she met my eye.

"His lip is bleeding," she said as she turned him so that I could see. "I did not know he could walk. He was barely pulling himself up when I last saw him," she added morosely. "He is growing so fast."

"He walked to you?" I asked, doing my very best to seem surprised. "That is truly a first."

After years spent in the Opera House, I should have been a better actor, but the stage was not my forte. I realized I did not need to add truly to my statement since it sounded more than a little forced, but Meg did not seem to notice. For Alex's sake, I made an attempt to fool Meg. Given my past history I considered it little more than a white lie.

Meg looked from me to Alex, who was feeling his head for a bump as he made a face. "Did you walk just for me?" she asked him.

Thankfully he nodded, this time much more carefully than he ever had in the past as he rubbed his forehead and tilted his face down. "May?"

"Oh, yes, I nearly forgot," she said. She kissed him on the forehead. "There. Now you are better?"

Alex grinned back at her. Everything in his world was better now that she had returned. He put his arms around her neck and held her tightly, his fingers linked together as though he feared she would leave again and the only way to keep her near was to physically lock onto her.

"May?" he asked with his face against hers.

"Yes, my love?"

"Maison?"

Rather than answer, Meg rocked Alex back and forth and kissed him again. She pulled out her handkerchief and blotted his bottom lip, which had swollen a little but wasn't bleeding badly.

"I have missed you," she said.

"May?" Alex asked again, this time more persistent. "Rester à la maison."

Stay home. My son slurred his words together, but there was no denying what he asked of her. Meg turned her head and looked him in the eye, almost in disbelief.

"He asked you to stay," I said in case there was any doubt.

Meg chose to ignore me. She made every attempt to smile at Alex, but the expression would not stay put on her lips.

"Where is your grand-mere?" she asked Alex.

"With the Seurattis," I answered since Alex could not.

At last she met my eye. "If you would allow me three days, I will gather my belongings," she said quite stoically.

"You may take as long as you wish to take what is yours," I said.

That was not what I had meant to say. I clenched my jaw and wished I could retract my words. She should not have returned for three days; she should have returned to stay permanently.

"That is much longer than I wish to take. If I can be out sooner, I will, Monsieur," she answered.

"Your husband is welcome to accompany you," I added.

Meg narrowed her eyes. She looked livid that her mother had told me of her sudden marriage, but she kept her voice light and pleasant as Alex buried his face against her shoulder.

"As you know, Charles is unable to walk and therefore it would be quite inconvenient if not nearly impossible for him to travel here for a handful of days."

Then stay, I wanted to tell her. Before I could continue the conversation, she turned away from me and marched down the hall toward the kitchen.

"We will make the most of our time together," she said to Alex. "Just you and me."

Madeline returned a moment later through the back door and gasped in surprise of seeing her daughter. "You made the first train?"

"I did," Meg replied.

"Your ring is beautiful."

I hadn't noticed it on her hand.

"Thank you."

"You look well."

"Do I?" Meg asked.

"Alex is happy to see you again," Madeline commented. She was as desperate as I was to keep her daughter in Paris.

To that Meg offered no reply.

Her mother tried yet again to make conversation with her. "How is Charles?"

Meg paused and switched from speaking in French to English. Despite Madeline knowing full well I spoke more languages than she did, she and her daughter often broke into English as if they thought I would not be able to understand them.

"He is tired all of the time and spends most of the day sleeping. The pain from the amputation is constant and he has lost so much weight I barely recognized him. When he is awake, he barely speaks to me, but he said enough so that we are married. Is that what you wanted to know?"

"Oh, Meg," Madeline whispered.

"I am not looking for sympathy. You asked, I answered. Nothing more."

"How are his parents?"

"Overbearing and unhappy. They constantly usher me from his side."

My brow furrowed. I could not understand why she wished to return to London other than to be with her husband. Returning to Paris would mean she had her mother at her side. I understood the travel from London to Paris might be daunting for Charles Lowry with his medical condition, but once they were both settled, Meg would undoubtedly be happier...

With her overbearing mother and the unhappy man whose son she was currently holding. How could she possibly leave again, I wondered.

"Why are they unhappy?" Madeline asked. No matter the language she spoke, it was evident by her tone that she was prying. "Surely they are pleased that you and Charles are married."

"We will speak later."

Madeline then gasped. "Oh, my, what happened to his lip? Did his father see?"

Meg sighed heavily. "Yes, his father saw. Alex fell in the hall. While walking."

I rolled my tongue along the inside of my cheek and hoped to God Madeline would not tell her daughter that Alex had already taken his first steps. It felt like an eternity passed before Madeline spoke. I stared at the ceiling and willed Madeline to maintain the ruse I had started. If my story unraveled now, I feared Meg would leave much earlier than three days.

"Alex, did you learn to walk just for Meg?" Madeline asked.

I leaned against the parlor door and gave a sigh of relief.

"He truly did?" Meg asked.

"I've never seen him take a step," Madeline replied.

She was much more convincing than I had been, thank God. All of her years on the stage paid off in one brief moment.

Meg peppered Alex with kisses. "Oh, you sweet boy," she said to him. "You are my most favorite baby in the world. Did you know that?"

"Maison," Alex replied. "May."

It appeared all three of us were playing our parts in order to convince Meg Lowry to stay in Paris.

Madeline made an unusual request while Meg became settled in her room with Alex keeping her company.

"Have supper with us," Madeline said.

I had half the mind to tell her it had not worked out well the last time, but after weeks of her outright ignoring me, I had no desire to go back to complete silence again.

I eyed her a moment as she stood in the doorway of my bedroom. With Meg home, I had returned upstairs to look over compositions, including the one I had written about Meg and Charles, which was still not behaving in a suitable manner as I tested the notes.

"Why are you asking this?" I asked.

"It's Christmas eve." She shifted her weight and I heard her knees crack alarmingly loud, which made me grimace on her behalf. "And for your son and my daughter."

"You would enjoy yourself much more without me present," I assured her.

Madeline walked into my room and closed the door behind her. I turned in my chair to face her, my brow furrowed by her unexpected entrance. Before I could ask what she was doing, she stepped closer and whispered, "Why did you tell Meg that Alex started walking when she returned?"

I turned from her immediately. "Why did you do the same damned thing as me?"

"Because I want her to stay here," Madeline stated without a moment of hesitation. "Same as you."

"She is married," I pointed out, feeling the need to play the devil's advocate.

Madeline sighed heavily. "I have no doubt you heard our conversation, therefore I do not need to tell you that his parents are overbearing and unhappy with their son marrying my daughter."

That wasn't quite what Meg had said, but for once I held my tongue.

"She will be miserable there," Madeline said, more to herself than to me.

"What are your intentions?" I asked. "Force her to stay here against her will?"

Madeline issued a long look that made me increasingly self-conscious. I suppose she thought of everything leading up to the Opera House disaster even though I wanted to point out that Christine had never been forced to stay with me. A bit of coaxing and false pretenses on my part, but coercion was not involved. At last I turned away, unable to bear the weight of her judgmental gaze.

"My intention is simple. I will convince her to stay," Madeline replied. "Surely when Meg sees how happy Alex is to see her and how this pleases you she will realize she is homesick."

I kept my back to Madeline and thought a moment. "How do you know she was homesick?"

"She isn't homesick. Not yet. But she will be."

"What about her husband?"

"They can find a place here."

I wondered how long Madeline had been devising her plan for Meg to return and stay in Paris.

"How will they support themselves?"

Madeline did not reply, which I took as meaning I had reached the end of her planning. Against my better judgment, I turned and looked at her again. There were tears in her eyes and she wrung her hands.

"The details will work themselves out," she said, but her voice lacked its previous conviction. "He is a very intelligent man and Meg is a hard-working woman. God will provide."

Had there not been two weeks of silence between us I would have challenged her words, but wisely I kept my thoughts to myself.

"She still has the check, I assume. They could live comfortably on their own fora few months," I said. Given that the check was blank, Meg could have easily written in an amount of thirty thousand francs and lived well for a year or two. Surely she was aware, as was Madeline, that my bank account was quite well padded from years of, well, extortion.

Before Madeline answered, there was a hard knock at my bedroom door that made the two of us jump. Meg swung the door open but did not look at either of us as she stood with her hands firmly planted on her hips.

"If the two of you have finished discussing every aspect of my life, supper will be ready in thirty minutes."

She turned on her heel and stormed back down the stairs without another word.

"Meg, please," Madeline called out as she hurried after her daughter and shut the door behind her.

At last I removed my mask and rubbed my hand over my face. A tension headache started to pinch at my skull.

Whatever Madeline intended to do in order to placate her daughter, it was not going to work. Meg had made up her mind. We were merely wasting our breath attempting to convince her to stay.