After Geneviéve's death, Erik was able to close and leave behind his past to the best of his abilities. He did not think as much as the unpleasant parts of his life, because he started to find inner peace. He had a loving family, three children who were growing and developing day by day.
A year passed.
A year full of peace and love to each other, and the calendar showed autumn of 1893.
Yvette and Sophie Berger got used to their new home in no time. Yvette was worried at first about her job, and she kept asking Erik if she was good enough with cleaning, and if it isn't a problem she did not finish with cleaning two rooms, but Erik reassured her that it is a big enough help for him that she was there, willing to clean at all, so it is all the same to him if she cleans those rooms on Monday or Tuesday – where and why to hurry? As he got older, he found out there was no need to hurry with anything. And he told this to the younger people in his home as well. How restless these children are, always- he is glad if he can get up from an armchair without pain. And these children just run around all day.
Sophie was attending school and got better and better grades. She was so proud and happy that she learned to read and write, using Braille. She taught it to Mahtab as well, as they were best friends forever. They had an own secret way to communicate, they were leaving small notes for each other, and it was so amusing for them. They had some inside jokes no one else but they understood and Erik was so happy they got along so well and she had a true friend, despite her appearance. Sophie learned to walk all alone in the house, without bumping into anything, and within time she was running downstairs just as fast as Mahtab or any of the healthy children. Smaller accidents only happened when Sophie could not see if someone was passing by or standing at the bottom of the stairs and Sophie was descending too fast. She bumped into Erik sometimes or once she jumped on his foot, and Erik, even though he got a bit of angry at her when that happened, but her fast and desperate apologizing touched his heart. She so much reminded him of young himself, she would apologize for literally EVERYTHING. Spilling out some water on the kitchen floor sent her to tears, even though her mother never scolded her for doing something like this.
- Don't cry my child, please, it was an accident. I am not angry. – Erik hugged her and patted her shoulder.
- Are you sure? – She sniffed.
- Yes, dear, nothing happened. – He reassured. Only after that she calmed down and went about her business.
He wondered if there was someone to comfort him in his childhood maybe he had more self- confidence. He did not want this small girl to turn out as such a small nervous wreck as he used to be. He and all the family always reassured her about they were proud of her, and she was always told how clever and handy she was. Even though she wasn't his own child, Erik got to like Sophie a lot. He thought he did not like children, and he just realized he was able to be kind to a child who isn't his. She really was a smart kid, and her mother made sure she behaved well, and she rose her with love and consistency. Christine was shocked to see that Yvette made Sophie clean their room's floor as well, and help her with dusting.
- I don't want to tell you what to do, and how to teach your child. – She started shortly after noticing the small blind girl dusting the desk at the guest room. – But… she is blind and…
- And she has to learn to take care of herself. – Yvette replied kindly but with determination. – I have to teach her to clean. She had her chores at home as well. Just because she cannot see it, dust appears, and I don't want people to say that my daughter lives in a pig sly. She has to learn how to do things if she stays alone. – She lowered her head by the end of her speech, but Christine found her reasoning not only acceptable, but very clever as well. She realized that Erik was talking about this to her as well, when he "forced" Mahtab to learn how to dress up and tie her shoes. Even though Christine was still young yet, she just had a hint of worry about mortality.
She did not yet think about what will happen to Mahtab if they pass away. Erik was already old, and once she will get old and dies. Her life will sure be a hard one and she did not even like to think of it too much. No, she did not like to think about bad things. She did not even want to accept the fact that Erik was getting old. He did not complain, but she noticed his slower walking and sometimes walk with a drag. He needed his walking stick more times than before and it happened so fast, maybe in a year and a half, or so.
- No, Mahtab, you are a big girl now, you are too heavy for me to carry. – Erik declined when Mahtab wanted to climb on his back to play. To tell the truth, she was already nearly 8 years old and about 140 centimeters tall. She was still thin as a skeleton, just like her father, but it was clearly visible she inherited her height from Erik as well. Erik sometimes joked she could paint the frescos at the Opera ceiling without needing a ladder.
At the age of eight, Mahtab was able to write and read not only in French but in Braille as well, and was able to communicate in the languages of English, German and Farsi. She also learned some Italian sentences mostly from the opera librettos she was reading. She gobbled up books, there were days when she just sat and read books to herself and Sophie as well. Her favorite novel turned out to be Oliver Twist by Dickens. Erik owned a first edition of it, and warned his daughter to take care of it, but let her borrow it for reading. She could cry at the beginning for hours, but would not put it down, even if Erik told her she might be yet too young for it.
- No because I want to see how it ends. Papa, he won't die… right?
- No. – Erik smiled.
- That is good. – Mahtab wiped her forehead with her sleeve. – That would be so not righteous.
Righteous…? Oh, child, life isn't righteous and fair at all, and even though Oliver Twist actually has a happy ending, and it might be based on real life happenings, yet not all orphans, or even real people are as lucky as Oliver, to eventually have his fate changed all to the better, after those many years of sufferings. Fairytales don't just happen that easily- however Erik thought now that his miserable life was one, at that moment. He suffered throughout endless decades, and finally found Christine, the love of his life, who finally married and learned to love him – he still could not understand how, but he was so thankful for it happening. But he wasn't sure Mahtab will be as lucky as he is, especially with her constantly thinking she was a male.
Erik Florian, now a five year old small gentleman, started to act like a small Don Juan, and lived for music. His curly dark locks and huge brown eyes made him look like a small version of Beethoven, but he was most certainly more polite, and thankfully, less deaf. He wasn't as nicely dressed as Mahtab, he still had issues with his cravat and shoelaces, but he did not seem to care about it. He did not know yet how to write words, and read, but he was able to read and write music as much as a trained musician. His strong spot was music, and his weak spot was- well anything else. Mahtab was able to tell the time at his age, but Flo did not even seem to understand what numbers look like and how they work. He was clumsy, not that good at climbing and balancing as his sister was, sometimes even falling in his own feet. Drawing wasn't his cup of tea either, he stuck with drawing stick figures, if he ever picked up a pencil for that reason, but the truth was he would rather write music than draw. Christine remarked that anecdotes said her Papa was just like this, so he received the perfect namesake. He also resembled Erik in a way- he was forgetful and careless if his music was occupying his mind. When he was working on a small piece, the world ceased to exist for him and he was able to jump out of bed in the morning and walk to the piano while getting half dressed, because he simply forgot he should put on trousers with the shirt and underwear to get ready for the day. Erik just shook his head when he noticed Flo at the piano in underwear, shirt and only in one of his socks. A little artist – just he has to be careful not to be too deep in his thoughts while walking on the streets- Erik was once nearly hit by a carriage while working on Don Juan Triumphant in his head during a stroll in Paris. Since that he learned to pay attention a bit more about his surroundings. Christine made a bedding for Flo that had his favorite sheet music written on it- this made Flo to go to bed with a bigger pleasure than before. Since Mahtab spent a lot of time playing and talking with Sophie, Erik had more alone time with Florian. The small boy really appreciated getting more of his Papa, they would spend time playing music or singing together. Flo was a cute mezzosoprano and sang clearly, so Erik loved to have him around. Yet Flo wasn't only having music lessons with Erik. Christine took him to Opera rehearsals to be able to listen to music not only in the performance of his family, and he was able to hear music played on other instruments as well. He was fond of the sound of the clarinet the most, but he loved to play the violin the most. Christine was so happy to have a son who adored music so much. Flo reminded her of both her poor father and Erik in the same person – she was sure that Flo received the right names. She sometimes called him Erik, stroking his dark curls, kissing his forehead. The boy adored this act and he liked his other name as well, only wondered why his Papa never calls him that.
- Papa! Would you write my name on this? – Florian ran to Erik excitedly at an evening, covered in ink from head to toe. Erik was already used to mess with 4 children in his home, so he did not mind it too much anymore. He just tried to avoid Flo to stain his shirt, but other than that it was all right.
- Show me what you did here, hm? – He picked the papers from Flo and was smiling upon realizing the young one was trying to write a clarinet concerto. The only problem was that he forgot that a concerto would require a full orchestra, not only a clarinet, two violins and a piano. And it included a few notes no clarinet was able to play.
- It is very good, my boy. – He kissed his cheek. – It just lacks a few instruments, don't you think?
- No. – He shook his head.
- Why, isn't it the first movement of a concerto?
- No. Can't you see it is in sonata form? – He shrugged. – Papa, it is a sonata for clarinet and violin and piano.
- Flo dear, a sonata can't have such an orchestration. It is either just clarinet and piano, or violin and piano, sweetie.
- But yes it can.
- Who says so, hm? – Erik teased.
- Me.
- Flo, if you wish to write a sonata, chose less instruments or write something else.
- Did not you say that rules were meant to be broken, Papa?
- Oh- ho, a little rebel! Well… Beethoven included a choir in a symphony and a symphony movement in an opera… why could not you do the same? – He laughed and stroke Flo's hair before leaning down to give him a kiss.
Monsieur LeChat and Shadow were healthy and they were good friends to each other, even though the cat wasn't in the dog's company that much. He chose to lay on top of the piano or at the mantelpiece behind the clock or vases, or on Erik's lap. Erik loved to pet the cat on his lap as he was purring himself to sleep, and he found so much peace in these moments. He felt like a happy old fellow he was always dreaming of to become, sitting in his favorite armchair in front of the fireplace with a dog under his feet and a cat on the top of his lap, with a good book and wine, surrounded by his loving family. The children also adored both the dog and the cat. Noel used poor Shadow for horse riding, which the dog did not seem to mind at all, so Erik was at least happy it wasn't him who had to be the horse. He wasn't totally sure he would be able to get up from the floor so easily if he went down on his hands and knees. It even caused some trouble for him when Mahtab was a toddler, but since that, another six years passed, and those years, combined with his carelessness in his youth, did not do any good for his joints. Who did care at the age of 20 about those spots will be sensitive at the age of 60? He did not even THINK to live up until that age.
The sleeping cat at the piano gave Flo so much warmth in the soul, he would look at Monsieur Jean-Pierre LeChat with love and a huge smile. When the cat had enugh of napping on top of the instrument, he would yawn and stretch for some minutes, then gracefully slide down, jumping on the keys, and from there, on the floor. Flo always laughed at the unintentionally played music that M LeChat's paws made on the keyboard.
- He is playing cat- music! – He giggled, pointing at the cat.
- I know. – Erik laughed. – They can even inspire composers sometimes.
- Really? – Flo asked with amusement.
- Yes, Scarlatti had a feline companion, and the sweet little animal once walked across the keyboard, inspiring him to write his "Cat Fugue".
- Did Monsieur LeChat inspire you to write anything yet? – Flo inquired happily.
- Not yet. – The father laughed. – But it may happen once.
Noel was nearly 3 years old, and he started to show signs of his interests. These interests, however were driving his parents crazy. His first word ever, if we can count it as a word, was describing one of those interests. He just walked to Erik, looked at him with his enchanting clear blue eyes and said:
- Vrooom!
- What did you say? – Erik knelt down to understand him better, and only then Noel stated:
- Car…rrrrr.
- Car? – Erik asked with awe.
- Mhm. – Noel nodded eagerly, pointing outside.
- You want to ride the car?
- Mhm! – He jumped up and down in excitement, clapping his hands together.
Erik was at least happy that Noel was finally willing to communicate, using real words, if it was only a very few amount of words. For a few months he was only talking in one-word sentences, unlike his other children. He, at least can pronounce the letter "r", which is good. He remembered how much he hated young himself for burring even at the age of 6. He knew Noel wasn't talking too much, but he seemed to understand everything he heard. He was able to name objects, family members, and everything if they asked him about it, but he did not talk by himself, only if he needed something. He tried his best to make the boy speak more, but he secretly assumed it was some "birth defect" Noel had. He was without oxygen for some time after his birth, and who knows what did it cause? He just hoped it will get better, but to tell the truth, he adored Noel no matter what, whether he did or did not talk much. In other aspects, the boy seemed to develop normally. He was able to walk and run, climb on things, he understood everything, and he could see, hear and talk as well. Thank God. He took his young son for car rides in the afternoon, which Noel enjoyed the most. Mahtab and Erik decided to build a smaller version of the car for Noel as a gift, in which he will be able to sit in and drive all alone to make him happy.
The other interest the boy had, however, made Christine worry even more than the car rides and Noel's immense adoration for cars. He loved fire. He was enchanted by fire in the heart, or candlelight. He was fascinated by someone lighting up matches and he wanted to try it out by any cost. Of course, no one let him light a match, which fact often resulted in a temper tantrum. Erik had to realize Noel inherited much of his temper – he was stubborn, touchy and determined to do anything he got in his thick little skull. He once managed to get burns on his hand by touching a lighting candle, no matter how much Christine was trying to restrain him. Of course, he was screaming from pain while Erik was holding his red little hand under the cold running water of the kitchen sink, but it was at least good for one thing – he got way more careful next time, but he was still spellbound by fiery things. Erik decided to show Noel some of his magic tricks that included throwing fireballs or making small sparkles by smacking his fingers. The boy was staring at him speechless without even breathing upon seeing what his Papa can do. Then his first full sentence could be heard:
- Do it again, Papa!
Erik hoped that he will be able to turn Noel's interest in a less dangerous way if he gets to like magic tricks. It worked out. The young boy wanted to learn card tricks, and Erik found out he was noticeably talented in card games and smaller tricks. So that's how to occupy him…
Christmas came, when Noel turned 3 years old, and received a Birthday and Christmas gift he will never forget. The small car made him scream with happiness and jumping in Erik's arms, hugging him tight and exclaiming
- Thank you Papa!
- Merry Christmas, Noel and Happy Birthday! Thank it to Mahtab too, she was helping a lot to make it. – He hugged Noel close to himself.
- Thank you Mahtab. – He kissed his sister too and instantly jumped in to take a ride in the house.
- Carefully, sweetie! – Christine called out to warn him.
But Noel wasn't the only one getting such a gift on this Christmas. Christine received a box with a small letter from Erik. She couldn't imagine at first what that might be- it was too big for a jewel box, but too small to be literally anything else.
The letter was the sweetest thing Christine had ever read from Erik, even though he sometimes wrote small love poems or confessions to her, but this one just sent her to tears of joy:
To my life and its meaning,
On a night full of worry, Persian Moonlight lit my patch to a father's love,
Which led us to receive the Angel of Music, wearing your father's name,
And in the end, unexpectedly, our little Christmas gift arrived on this Earth, gifting us with his voice.
And for this Christmas I give you the keys to your past and my humble heart.
Merry Christmas,
Erik
Opening the box with trembling hands she really found keys. She looked at Erik questioningly, not knowing what they were for.
- Don't you know what these are? – Erik chuckled.
- Keys. But what do they open?
- Well, that is a valid question, my love. Try to guess.
- A house…?
- Yes. But where?
- Not here… I… wait… the keys to my past?
- You are at the right patch, yes.
- In Perros? – She gasped.
- Clever girl. – Erik kissed her forehead gently.
- You bought a house in Perros? – She laughed and cried at the same time.
- Yes. A summer home for us. I know how much you loved those times you could spend there with your father, and I wanted to bring back those times for you and give it to the children as well. I know they will love it there again. I will have to retouch it a bit, but you will see it will worth it in the end.
- Just carefully, dear. – Christine hugged her husband close and lay her head on his shoulder. – Thank you.
She couldn't say more because of being so touched, and Erik was so happy to be able to give his wife so much happiness. He never thought someone will be so glad to be with him, and worry about him as much as his sweet modest and loving Christine. And she deserves the whole world for it.
