Chapter Four

Sostendo

It had been a very long night. As exhausted as he had been after long days of nonstop travel, Erik found his mind too tormented to sleep for longer than a few minutes at a time. The fact that Tsifia woke seven times, moaning in pain, certainly did not help. Each time she began to stir, he would sit up in his sleeping sack and look out from the corner of the tsera; but Bella never asked for him to help. She didn't apologize for keeping him up, as he would have expected her to in the past. Before his long absence, Bella had always worried whenever she interrupted his sleep that she was putting him out somehow, or making him angry. But on that night, she was far more concerned about Tsifia than his comfort – and that was good. He did not want Bella to worry about him when her grandmother was in so much agony.

"I can still find where the doctor is." he offered the fourth time Tsifia started whimpering.

"No." Bella replied, shaking her head in the darkness. "There's nothing you can do. Go back to sleep."

Eventually even Tsifia seemed to be too exhausted to wake in pain. All three of them had sunk into fitful slumber, and only when Arabella climbed out of the cot at the first gray light of dawn did Erik stir. His eyes cracked open to watch her pad over to a ewer and attempt to pour something into the porcelain bowl beneath it. Nothing happened and she gave a low groan of exhausted annoyance. Erik pushed himself into a sitting position.

"I can fill it." he offered, already pushing back his coverings. Bella jumped, even though his voice was very soft and gentle. He saw her turn in the darkness and stare at him as he struggled tiredly to his knees. "Here, I'll take it to the river."

"No." Arabella shook her head, her jaw setting in determination.

Was she going to be stubbornly independent now that she was over the shock of his return? Would she now be angry enough to change her mind and push him out of her life like he richly deserved? Erik held his breath, hoping to God this wouldn't be the case.

"I … I need to go to the river." she admitted after a moment, reaching for a cape that would shield her from view if anyone else was up and about in their camp. "I … haven't washed well in so long … do you mind?"

"Of course not!" Erik blinked, startled that she would suspect him of resenting her need for basic hygiene. "I can keep an eye and ear out for your grandmother. But you could go back to bed, ma belle..."

"No." Bella repeated. "Wouldn't do any good. When I wake up, I'm up. There's nothing for it. But … thank you."

With that, she brushed quickly outside with a few necessities like a thick blanket no doubt intended to be used as a towel, a bar of crude soap, and what looked to be a sea sponge of all things. Erik wondered briefly how she'd gotten hold of such a thing as he began tying up his bedroll and most of his belongings. He took her absence as an opportunity to change clothes and pull out a square of black silk cloth embroidered with rich dark flowers. Had he actually spent any money on it, he imagined it would have cost a fortune. As it was, he'd stolen the cloth off of a clothesline as he fled Rome.

He could see Bella at the river when he stepped outside. Others in the camp were beginning to stir; but apparently being possibly spotted at a distance wasn't the horror to her it might have been three years prior. No doubt the close proximity to the river made her feel safe going their alone; along with the time of day and the fact that there were no woods nearby. Just a few trees that screened her modestly enough from openly being observed.

Erik busied himself building a large fire. The morning was rather cold, and she would need some place to warm herself. In the tsera he found some smoked sausage, flour, and pepper, and decided to try and make her some biscuits and gravy in the cast iron skilled kept with other outdoor kitchen necessities. He also found leaves for a good strong tea. It wouldn't be as powerful as coffee, but Erik didn't much care for coffee, and neither did Bella if he remembered correctly. Besides, coffee was an exorbitant luxury that was difficult to steal.

The food was just starting to warm over the fire when Bella returned to the tent huddled beneath her thick blanket. Her hair hung lank and wet on either side of her face, her skin pale and her lips almost violet with cold. Even though the tea was nowhere near ready, he poured some of the water into a mug and held it out to her.

"Here." he insisted. "Warm yourself."

Arabella stared at him for such a long moment Erik worried they were about to quarrel. He didn't understand why, because he was only trying to be a good husband – a good person – by making sure she took care of herself.

It was only when her eyes softened and she accepted the cup that he began to realize it was his very act of concern that had thrown her off … not the fact that he'd done it. He wondered how long it had been that anyone had really attempted to care for her in the past three years. She must have spent so much time caring for Tsifia that her own needs had surely been a secondary concern to her – if that. Bella had never been a particularly selfish person.

"Thanks." she murmured, sitting on the ground in her blanket close enough to feel the heat of the fire. "How is she?"

"Quiet as a baby lamb." Erik assured. "You know that if you change your mind about that medicine, you only have to say the word. I'll go wherever I have to, pay whatever I have to-"

"-I know." she interrupted quickly, but gently. "You're wonderful for it. I love you for it. But no. I won't change my mind. Tsifia would probably kill me if I brought a gaje doctor to her. Or any of their medicines. She doesn't trust them."

Erik slumped a little. It was uncharitable towards Tsifia, but he found himself thinking that the old woman's death would be the kindest thing that could happen to Bella just now. She was helpless against her grandmothers' deteriorating condition. She wouldn't dishonor Tsifia's preferences. But surely honoring her grandmother was killing her inside.

When the food was ready and he had spooned it into two small servings for them, he sat at her side without daring to be too close.

"I brought something for you." he stated, digging into his trouser pocket to pull out the expensive silk cloth. Unfolding it until it was about nine by nine inches, he displayed it for her viewing. "Will you have it?"

Bella blinked at what was obviously meant to be a dicklo, her hand going self-consciously to her unadorned head. Color filled her cheeks and he watched a war of emotions play over her face.

"That's far too expensive a gift, Erik." she protested a little weakly. "And it does not work like that."

"What doesn't?" he asked, bewildered and lowering the cloth in dismay. "It is just a gift-"

"-No it is not." she accused, with little heat. She seemed so tired. Even the bowl of food in her hand was tilted forward almost enough to threaten spillage. "It's a bribe."

Erik stared at her, not understanding … but also understanding completely. Shame filled him, because he knew she was at least partially right. He hadn't bought the gift – but that did not matter so much in his eyes. She would not care one way or the other. What was important was that when he'd stolen it off the clothesline, he'd imagined seeing Arabella wearing it. He'd clearly imagined giving it to her and immediately helping her to tie it over her head. He'd imagined how delighted she would be to have such a fine piece of clothing – however small it was.

"I … just thought you would like it." he muttered, staring down at his empty bowl and slowly folding the cloth.

"I do like it." Bella admitted. "But not as that kind of a gift. It's just very pretty. It looks very soft, too. But it's still a bribe … and I have more self-respect than that. I won't fall into your arms like some love-sick maiden just because you gave me some pretty favor."

Erik felt his muscles contracting, making his body start to shrink in on itself.

Arabella rose to her feet, hugging the blanket more tightly around herself.

"I can welcome you home, Erik." she told him. "I can forgive you. But I can't forget that you left for three years. I can't simply forget that you came back only because of some other girl dying and not accepting you-"

Erik lifted his face, his eyes flashing furiously at her.

"-That is not why I came back!" His voice was nearly a shout at once. He would have lowered his voice after the initial outburst, remembering suddenly how frightened Bella was when people became angry. But she didn't so much as flinch. She just looked down at him. Her rock-steady, sad gaze made him grow completely silent before more rantings could fly out of his unthinking head.

After a moment, Bella turned and returned to the tent where Tsifia was starting to moan again. Erik shoved the cloth haphazardly back into his pocket. If she didn't want the damned thing, he didn't care if it got wrinkled or ruined.

He just wanted to make amends. To apologize. To see her smile again instead of having her look so tired and sad. He wanted to lift some of the terrible self-imposed weight from her shoulders. And she wouldn't let him do any of it!

He dropped his bowl carelessly to the grass and rose to his feet, looking around to figure out where best to set up his performance area for the day. If he was back, and at least somewhat welcome, he might as well start earning his keep again right away before anyone had a chance to complain.

He was too angry to even defend himself. And if he tried, he would only upset Tsifia – who was in enough agony as it was. Instead of speaking any further to Bella, he stalked into the tent only long enough to gather his belongings – the ones he would need for the day, at least. Then he stormed back outside and all the way across to the other side of the camp furthest from the river. Whatever Bella had planned for that day, she could do it on her own. She seemed to be surviving just fine without him already. She didn't need his help.

This anger and mood lasted only until other gypsies began to wake up, and he watched several parents herding their extremely young children and babies towards Tsifia's tsera. Bella would come out to greet every one, taking the child from its' mothers hands in order to escort it inside. Erik wondered how so many little ones could fit into the canvas abode, and how they could possibly not disturb the extremely ill Tsifia. By the time the ninth child under six appeared, Arabella looked entirely at the end of her rope in spite of how the children weren't making too much of a noticeable raucous. Still, she would smile brightly at each child and greet them with overwhelming affection.

This was what killed his anger. He certainly hadn't eve imagined her caring for so many little ones all at once while simultaneously caring for her grandmother. As tired as the work seemed to make her almost instantly, he also realized rather quickly that just the sight of the little ones also revitalized her. She was naturally maternal, and just seeing this caused his gut to clench tightly.

He had returned to try and win back his young wife after a sincerely hideous betrayal of sorts; and yet she was a loving, welcoming, warm presence to all those around her. Their fight that morning had not tainted her ability to be nurturing to others. Being essentially on her own had not jaded her to loving others.

For a moment, he found himself thinking of their future. If she could fully accept him back … could they some day have a family? Could he experience the softening joy of seeing her hold their child someday? Such a decision was years away at best, but … when he saw Arabella he couldn't help remembering the old fantasy of watching her teach a little girl how to dance, or perhaps kissing the scraped knee of a little boy trying to pick apples out of an orchard tree.

Bella did not want him buying or stealing medicine for her grandmother. She did not want his gifts... Other than bringing a larger profit into the tribe, how was he supposed to help her? How was he supposed to match her clear selflessness and bottomless well of love? As he began performances for the day, he had no idea what he was supposed to do … and he agonized over it most of the day as he took bow after bow, and created spectacular little shows for people who'd never even dreamed such little feats existed.

In the mid afternoon, he saw that some parents returned to collect their little ones – or Bella passed them out to others who were probably just as trustworthy as their parents. By the end of the day, there was only one infant, who looked no more than a year old or so to Erik, sleeping on her shoulder as she paced outside the tent and looked around as if waiting for the mother to hurry up and collect her offspring.

It would have been at least an idea to offer to watch or entertain the little ones, but he doubted very much if any Romany parent would allow him anywhere near their children.

After some thought … he realized it really was a decent idea. Perhaps he could never watch the children for any stretch of time. But if he performed near the tsera, perhaps Arabella could sit the older ones in front of his show long enough to get little chores done, or get them out from underfoot whenever Tsifia became a particularly demanding patient! Or he could sit with Tsifia when it was the children being demanding of her energy!

With this in mind, he packed up his performance gear and brought it back to the tent. By then the sleeping baby was gone, and Arabella was once again cooking something outside the tsera. This time, she seemed to be making some thick stew with chunks of clearly different types of meat and a few root vegetables. It smelled very bland, but at least it was food.

"Here..." he offered, pulling some coins out from his pocket. He'd made some good profit that day, and he wasn't afraid to share it. He'd been prepared to do exactly that long before coming back. Bella glanced at his offering, glanced down at his still rather heavy purse, and then willingly pocketed the money at the tiny satchel on her hip.

"Thank you." she murmured.

Erik decided not to bother her, but only sat down and waited for the food to be ready. He wasn't sure how to broach his idea with her. He didn't even know if talking about it was a good idea.

"How is your grandmother?" he inquired gently when they were about half done with their bowls.

Arabella kept her eyes on her bowl of food, biting on her bottom lip in a familiar sign of distress.

"Not good..." she breathed in a choking voice. "I don't … it won't be very long now."

Slowly, she looked over at him.

"Will you help me move her?"

"Like when you were … ill?"

"Yes. Exactly like that."

Erik frowned slightly. No one had ever properly explained to him why gypsies should never die in their own homes when it was preventable. He didn't like the idea of moving an old and confused woman in so much pain when they could barely keep her comfortable as it was. But it was clearly important to Arabella, so he imagined it would be six times more important for the old woman if she were lucid.

"Of course I will." he assured. "When do you want to move her?"

"Not tonight." she replied at once. He recognized the desperate procrastination that bordered on denial in her words. "First thing in the morning, I suppose."

Erik nodded, and reached over without thinking to place a hand on her arm. To his surprise, she did not pull away.

"All right, then. First thing in the morning. And I can help you watch those little ones, if you want. Just when you need to do something in particular and they are in the way. You know I have plenty of tricks to keep the children hypnotized for a good hour or so."

Bella chuckled, shaking her head at him.

"Not just the children..."

He smiled at her, glad she wasn't still angry.

"Why don't you go to bed?" he offered. "I'll sit up with her for a little while. You can take a shift later. You can't tell me you've been sleeping much lately."

"I wouldn't even try to say that."

Her body sagged slightly, and Erik tried to hold an arm out to her so that she could be invited up against his side. It was a familiar gesture that he used to make a lot in their past. Bella had never hesitated to lean into him before and allow him to hold or shield her.

It took a long moment. At first, Bella wasn't even paying enough attention to realize Erik sat waiting with one arm extended. But when she did, it only took the briefest moment for her to decide it would be all right if she gave into him ever-so-slightly. She shifted over to lean her side into his, and Erik very gently drew her head to his shoulder before stroking her uncovered hair.

"You know something?" he asked after a moment of quiet. "I think I like your hair uncovered more than I like it when you wear a dicklo. I like being able to reach out and just touch your hair."

Bella hummed in a non-committal answer. Erik didn't press for more, and didn't continue to tease. A tiny part of him had hoped she would mock him and reassure him the dicklo would be back in place very soon. But he hadn't been lying. He did like seeing and touching her hair at will. In all honesty, he didn't care one way or the other if she wanted to wear a hair covering like a traditional gypsy wife, or if she wore nothing at all on her head. Both were fine by him, and he found pleasure no matter how he looked at her.

"Come on." he finally grunted, trying to rise to his feet while keeping an arm around her. It was obvious Bella was truly exhausted and was falling asleep against him. "You can sleep on my pallet for a few hours. That way she can't disturb you."

Arabella had such a hard time walking the six feet to their tent that he gave up escorting her, and simply scooped her up into his arms - against her murmured and befuddled protestations.

"Hush." he chided softly. "Just rest, ma belle. Just sleep."

She continued protesting until he lay her on a clumsily unrolled bedroll. It wasn't easy to pull the item out of his belongings and unpack it while still holding Bella against him and off the ground. It was just lucky she was so petite – if you didn't include her overly-generous curves – because it felt almost like carrying an overgrown child instead of holding up a fully grown woman. If Erik weren't so very tall, he might not have managed the feat. As it was, he barely managed to tuck her into the sleeping sack without jostling her violently awake.

He brushed her hair back from her face for a minute once she was settled, and then tried to lean back and move to the cot where Tsifia lie. But Arabella was still awake – if just barely – and she grabbed his wrist in a surprisingly strong grip.

"Don't go..." she whispered.

Erik settled back onto his knees.

"I won't go anywhere." he promised, stroking the back of her insistent hand. "I'm staying right here, ma belle. From now on until forever."

She cracked her eyes open just enough so he could see the light hit them.

"Sing something?" she whispered.

"W...what do you want to hear?"

Bella shrugged helplessly. She did not know most composers or the names of songs very well. At least not out of the music Erik tended to sing or create. She wouldn't have usually recognized his style compared to anyone else, either. Erik thought a long time, thinking her eyes would close and her hand would drop before he could make a decision. But she clung to consciousness stubbornly.

Sighing, Erik nodded and decided on a very old song that was in such a high tenor voice that surely it had been originally been performed by a castrato in the past! But Erik's range was enormous. He knew he could go from mid-to-high Soprano voice to high-to-mid baritone with little effort. He sang it as he had learned it, in Italian, which would be incomprehensible to her. But it would still soothe her to sleep, if he was as good as he thought he was. He knew what the words meant, of course, and when her eyes drifted completely shut once more, he did not bother to quiet down and stop for her better rest. He continued for her to get better sleep.

"I will see with joy

the soul of my soul,

heart of my heart full of content.

And if from my dear object

I be far away,

I will sigh, suffering every moment..."

She was very much asleep by the time the long repetitive song was over, but Erik continued to stroke the back of her hand for a very long time afterwards. Tsifia was resting as comfortably as the poor old woman could under the dire circumstances, so there was no need for him to rush off. As long as he could, he intended to kneel or sit by Bella's side and stroke the soft back of her dark hand with his fingertips.

This was what he had returned for, surely. To bring the young woman he loved so very desperately a semblance of peace and happiness. In a time of great unrest and agitation and grief, he'd given her just a few moments of peace … and he would continue to do so for the rest of his living days. He swore it to himself as he sat staring down at her, watching her chest rise and fall with her deep, even breathing. Listening to the melody of her light and ladylike snores.

Tsifia would die soon, and Bella would need him more than ever. This was not a conceited thought. He knew Arabella. One thing she was always afraid of was finding herself alone in the world, and he would certainly not allow that to ever happen to her. Not for all the building contracts in Europe.

It was nearly two hours before Tsifia began to stir, and Erik did exactly the same things he knew Arabella would want done for her. He cooled her aching head with a damp cloth treated with medicinal plant salves, changed her bed linens and clothes as necessary, and cleaned her poor wrinkled body multiple times. When she moaned in pain and began to come around more fully, he would offer her nibbles of food and a great deal of inexpensive but serviceable alcohol. Then, when all else failed, he would sing again, trying his best to use his skills to bring her, too, a bit more peace.

He lost track of the time, and didn't have any idea it was after midnight when Arabella stirred in his sleeping sack. She yawned hugely and pushed herself up onto one elbow. He saw her looking around in utter confusion, and then studying him beside Tsifia with slow understanding.

"How long have you let me sleep?" she demanded.

Erik pulled out a very cheap pocket watch he'd stolen at the Northern border of Italy.

"Around six hours." he admitted. "Would you like to go back to sleep?"

"No. Erik, you didn't have to stay up so late!" She was already pushing herself out of his bed and onto her feet. "This isn't your responsibility!"

"Your health and happiness are my responsibility." he told her simply, without any heat. He saw this as a very simple truth. "You want your grandmother taken care of, and you badly needed some good rest. I'll stay up the rest of tonight if it's what you need."

Bella's eyes softened and she gave him the weakest of appreciative smiles before putting an arm about his back in a small embrace. Erik closed his eyes, soaking in the feel of her acceptance.

"I know that you would." she told him. "But I want you to go to sleep now. Honestly..."

She sighed heavily, shifting uncomfortably and just looking down at her fitful grandmother.

"What is it, ma belle?" he pressed gently. "You can tell me anything."

Bella hesitated another long moment.

"It's the money." she finally blurted, sighing in frustration. "The money you work so hard to earn for yourself."

"What about it?" he demanded in confusion. "Is it not enough? What is mine is yours, Bella. If you need more; just tell me."

She shrugged helplessly.

"I don't know what I need. She's dying, Erik... She's dying, and I don't know the first thing about how to put her to rest!"

Realization dawned and Erik nodded in understanding.

"You're worried about paying for a good Christian funeral."

"Yes..." Her voice was small once again.

"She'll have one." he promised at once. "You said she has days left. And then, if I remember correctly, you mourn for three days afterwards?"

Arabella nodded again wordlessly, looking hopeless at the thought of having to mourn and bury the only blood family she had left.

"I will do what I have to." he assured. "Your grandmother will be buried in a church yard, just like Ar … Just like our daughter."

Her eyes met his sharply, and he offered a smile.

"I did make her my own, didn't I?" he challenged.

Bella bit on her bottom lip, and he reached out to brush his thumb along it gently, wanting to sooth the ache that must have been forming by that point.

"Tsifia will be buried with honor, respect, love, and propriety." he vowed to his wife. "Whatever the cost. I'll figure it out."

With that promise he stood from the side of the cot and yawned enormously before climbing into the space she had so recently vacated.

"Wake me if you need anything." he pressed. "You aren't alone, Bella. Not now. I'm here if you need me."

He was very much aware of her eyes on him for a long time after that, while he searched for sleep. He shivered a few times, realizing he was delighted by her perusal. There was no more hostility between them – at least not for the time being. Whatever reasons she had for staring at him between performing nursing tasks … he was sure they were good ones.