Chapter 22: Family
It was so warm in the room when Erik woke. Sunlight poured onto the bed from the window above his headboard, though luckily wasn't yet high enough to move the shadow hanging over his head. Rolling onto his side, he reached slowly out in front of him, instinctively pulling close the warm and frail body he knew was beside him. His eyes fluttered open, and he smiled as he looked down towards his wife. Her light auburn hair was let loose over her bare shoulders, her bangs falling into her closed eyes and across her cheek. She was the most beautiful creature that God had ever created.
"Isabelle . . ." He breathed, just to hear the name on his lips. She stirred immediately, her face tilting on the pillow so that it came within an inch of his own. There was a slight smile on her lips before he covered them with his own. Gasping, Isabelle's eyes shot open, and then very slowly closed once more, as a hand came up to grasp his shoulder. When Erik finally pulled away, he smiled and licked his lips a bit mischievously.
"That was one hell of a wake up call." She whispered, laughing softly. Erik chuckled, pulling her tightly against him, putting his toned arms possessively around her shoulders, and leaning his chin on the top of her head. "What are you doing?"
"Loving you." He replied in a whisper. "You would never believe what joy you've brought me this past week."
It had been an incredible week. They were in one of the finest suites the finest hotel in Paris had to offer. They might have been perfectly comfortable staying at home. Yet Erik hadn't felt it was the best time to introduce the birds and the bees to Marguerite and Fleur. Not to mention that for the amount of time they stayed in the suite, Marguerite would have knocked on the door impatiently some hundred times over by now. This gave them the chance to lock themselves away together. The dams had broken loose when the door first closed behind them. Erik couldn't remember ever feeling half as much passion.
"I hope I can continue to give you happiness for many years, Erik." Isabelle replied in a soft voice. "Are we really going home today?"
Erik sighed. Part of him definitely didn't want to return to the state house by the Paris Opera House. Yet another part of him ached for Marguerite, Fleur, and Gerard. He knew perfectly well that Isabelle would understand that. She seemed to be the only person who did understand him so completely. Sighing, he sat up, still holding her in his arms so she had to sit up as well.
"Yes." He agreed softly. "We're going home today. I have to go back to rehearsals tomorrow. I've been getting complaining telegrams from the managers about my temporary replacement. They want me back desperately."
Isabelle giggled, reaching out to grab his arm as he pushed away the sheets and started to stand up.
"But we aren't leaving right now." She whispered softly. "Are we?"
He turned, looking her over slowly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smile.
"No." He admitted. With that, she all but lunged at him, slipping her arms tightly about him.
"Well then, what are we going to do until then?" She challenged in her most seductive voice. It didn't take much to subdue him now that they were married, and he replied to her question with a searing kiss.
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"Papa!"
Marguerite squealed with excitement as she leapt from the front porch swing of the townhouse. The sky above was a deep fiery orange, and she wore a pretty crimson dress, her black hair in thick curls, and pulled back by a large red bow. She ran for Erik excitedly as he came through the gate with two large suitcases in his hands. He was forced to drop them when it was quite obvious she planned on literally jumping up into his arms.
"Marguerite!" He replied enthusiastically, letting the cases fall with a thud as his arms held up her now weighty body. She was in very healthy shape for her age, now that she'd spent so much time in such a healthy environment. "Oh, Ma petite! Have you grown in one short week?"
"Short?" She cried sounding almost enraged. "That week was not short, Papa! It was forever!"
"Was it?" He asked with a chuckle, kissing her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Cherie. Rest assured I'm not going away again for quite a very long time."
Putting her down, he turned to touch Isabelle's waist, and let her pass him on the walkway. When she had gotten by, he picked up the suitcases again, and headed towards the house.
"Hello, Marguerite." Isabelle said to the child fondly. Marguerite looked up to Isabelle for a long moment, as though trying to figure out what to say or how to act now. Then, she smiled brightly.
"Hullo!" She greeted, and then bounded back towards the house.
"Marguerite - where are your mother and sister? Where is Gerard?"
She stopped again on the steps, waiting impatiently for Erik to catch up with her.
"Fleur is in bed. She fell down today and Mama told her to stay in bed the rest of the day. Gerard is with Mama. She went to dinner with a man today!"
"Did she?" Isabelle asked, sounding both surprised and delighted. "Good for her!" Erik ignored the latter part of the conversation altogether. Moving past his wife and 'daughter', he lugged the two suitcases hurriedly up into his room, dropped them off, and then peeked into Fleur's bedroom.
"Cherie?" He asked softly, watching the figure on the bed as she rolled over lethargically. Reddened eyes looked at him across the dimly lit room, and he hurried over to her side. "Cherie, are you all right?" His eyes scanned over her covered frame. "Are you hurt?"
Fleur watched him a second, and then reached up to rub at her head. He noticed a bruise on her arm, and quickly reached out to examine it. It turned out that there was more than one bruise. There were a series of small, oval shaped bruises that looked almost like finger marks. When he went to touch one carefully, she flinched. So they had to have been quite fresh.
"My dear, did someone do this to you?" He whispered, feeling a flare of rage well up inside him. Fleur looked away quickly, and shook her head almost frantically. Sighing, Erik reached up and gently probed at the tender lump under her hairline. "Will you write down what happened for me?"
She shook her head again, and he sighed heavily.
"All right, Cherie. Let me see your beautiful green eyes."
She did that for him at least. He determined that she didn't have a concussion, and would be all right come morning. Kissing her cheek, he stood, told her to rest as her mother had ordered, and then left her alone to sleep. Back downstairs; Marguerite was trying to have Isabelle tell her everywhere they'd been on their honeymoon. Isabelle was blushing profusely, trying to think of what to tell such a small girl. Erik smiled as she fumbled for an explanation, and then shook his head.
"What we did on our vacation, my dearest, is none of your business." He told Marguerite gently. "We shared adult moments, all right?"
Marguerite stared up at him incomprehensively. Then, she smiled and ran over to hug him again tightly. Erik looked over her head at Isabelle, who smiled at him gratefully, and watched him lovingly. Her eyes lowered to watch Marguerite and how he stroked her black curls. He understood what she was wondering. Immediately after their marriage, she had asked him about what he'd say if they ever had a child. Whether he might want a boy or girl, or what they would do in raising the child. Now apparently she was watching, thinking of how he would be like that with their own children.
"I missed you, Papa." Marguerite whispered. "I didn't like it when you were gone! The man mama is seeing is dreadful!"
"Is he?" Erik thought about upstairs in Fleur's room; the marks on her arms. They had been large bruises, not belonging to Madeline by any means. Yet he dismissed the idea. He had no proof yet, and he knew that Marguerite was the jealous type.
"He's so MEAN!" Marguerite insisted. "He only yells at Fleur and me!"
"Does he hit?" Erik asked cautiously, crouching down to look into her eyes. "Does this man hit any of you?"
Marguerite looked away slowly, not saying anything. Erik made a low growl and stood up, turning to storm towards the door.
"Isabelle, keep them upstairs please." He hollered over his shoulder.
/////////////////-------------//////////////////////////
Three hours would pass before Madeline came home in a dingy old coach. Erik had lit the porch lamps, and stood on the top step as he watched a middle-class looking gentleman step out of the porch and march up to the fence. The sway in his balance told Erik immediately that the man was intoxicated. He wasn't even being chivalrous enough to help Madeline from the coach. She had to climb down herself, a half-asleep Gerard in her arms, and her arms squeezing a soft velvet wrap about her shoulders. She didn't see Erik there immediately, and neither did her consort.
"Damn it, woman! I said I wanted to go back to my place!" The drunk snapped angrily at her as she moved past him towards the house. Reaching out, the man shoved her shoulder, and she lost her balance, nearly dropping Gerard.
Erik observed as she regained her balance and strode towards the house without saying anything about his treatment towards her. Yet when the man came up behind her to snatch at her hair through a bonnet like hat, Erik stalked down the steps onto the walk way.
"Touch her again, Monsieur, and I will kill you." He growled, his hands clenched into fists until his knuckles turned white. His presence took both Madeline and the drunk off guard, and stopped in their tracks. Yet the man was a quick thinker.
"Who the hell are you?" He demmanded, his eyes narrowing angrily. "Stay out of this! It's none of your business!"
"Like hell it's not!" Erik snapped. "The woman you're daring to strike happens to be my friend. Her children are like my own. And if you come a step closer to this house I will not hesitate to kill you."
"I'd like to see you try it!" The man sneered. "Madeline, who is this bastard?"
She looked up at Erik sheepishly, her face somewhat discolored. She bit her lower lip nervously as Erik watched her carefully, but his eyes were very gentle when he looked at her. He certainly had no reason to be angry at her. Not yet, at least.
"Frederick, this is Monsieur Erik. He owns the house. He's been letting my family stay with him and his wife." She looked up at Erik still. "I didn't know you'd be back today, Erik."
Erik simply shook his head, moving closer to the man called Frederick. The man had salt n' pepper hair, which had apparently been a flattering copper color at one time. Yet there was very little of that color left to it. He was perhaps around Erik's age - Erik's true age. He had jade green eyes that seemed frozen over with ice, they were so cold. His irises were surrounded by bloodshot whites.
"Maybe instinct brought me back." He said coolly. "Considering this is truly my house, I think I have the right to order this man from the property. Unless of course you want a dangerou drunk near your children again."
Madeline blanched, and looked away as though ashamed of what had happened. She had reason to be, of course. Yet Erik wasn't going to say that to her. Surely she hadn't known the man was going to hurt her babies.
"Go inside." Erik told her in the tone of a stern father. "I have words to exchange with Monsieur Frederick."
The man looked enraged.
"I have nothing to say to you!" He snapped, obviously too drunk to understand what a rage Erik was in.
Madeline glanced over her shoulder, and then wisely ran into the house, slamming the doors behind her to hide from what was about to happen. Yet Erik didn't hear the door crack open again as Isabelle came down moments later to find out what was happening. He simply stalked like a panther down the walk way, over to where Frederick held up both hands into fists, as though getting ready for some fight.
Erik didn't want to waste his time grappling with him, so he set out with his foot, kicking the drunkard in the stomach and knocking him onto his back. Then, grabbing himy by his long salt n' pepper hair, he dragged him out onto the street behind the coach, and crouched over him threateningly. Frederick, by this point, in his drunken state, was only starting to get over the kick to the stomach. He stared up at Erik with glazed eyes.
"If you come near them again, I will kill you." He whispered. "I should kill you for what you did to Fleur. Rest assured that if I ever see you again - and I don't care if you're only crossing the street - I will kill you. Now get away from my family!"
He hut Frederick as hard as he could in the face for good measure. He heard the bones of his face break, and when he stood up, the drunkard was bleeding severely from his nose. He didn't care.
He turned and stalked away, back around the hired coach, and closed the gate in front of his house calmly behind him. He was only halfway back up the walk when he saw Isabelle staring at him from the top porch step, her eyes wide in horror at what she'd seen and heard. No one had ever seen his temper before from the family. Now she knew what it could meet to get him angry.
"What?" Erik asked, a bit irritably. "Do you want me to apologize for giving that bastard what he deserves?"
Isabelle shook her head, and he realized she was trembling a little bit. Sighing, he shook his head, and then moved up to stand just below her in front of the steps to the porch. Reaching out slowly, he offered his hands to her. It took a few uncertain moments, but she took them, squeezing his fingertips.
"I'm not going to hurt anyone, Izzy." He told her gently, using the nickname he'd heard her father use in the hospital. Although he wouldn't use it too often, he was very fond of the little name. "But anyone who threatens those I love is going to pay for even considering it."
She nodded slowly, and then turned to lead him quietly into the house.
It was so warm in the room when Erik woke. Sunlight poured onto the bed from the window above his headboard, though luckily wasn't yet high enough to move the shadow hanging over his head. Rolling onto his side, he reached slowly out in front of him, instinctively pulling close the warm and frail body he knew was beside him. His eyes fluttered open, and he smiled as he looked down towards his wife. Her light auburn hair was let loose over her bare shoulders, her bangs falling into her closed eyes and across her cheek. She was the most beautiful creature that God had ever created.
"Isabelle . . ." He breathed, just to hear the name on his lips. She stirred immediately, her face tilting on the pillow so that it came within an inch of his own. There was a slight smile on her lips before he covered them with his own. Gasping, Isabelle's eyes shot open, and then very slowly closed once more, as a hand came up to grasp his shoulder. When Erik finally pulled away, he smiled and licked his lips a bit mischievously.
"That was one hell of a wake up call." She whispered, laughing softly. Erik chuckled, pulling her tightly against him, putting his toned arms possessively around her shoulders, and leaning his chin on the top of her head. "What are you doing?"
"Loving you." He replied in a whisper. "You would never believe what joy you've brought me this past week."
It had been an incredible week. They were in one of the finest suites the finest hotel in Paris had to offer. They might have been perfectly comfortable staying at home. Yet Erik hadn't felt it was the best time to introduce the birds and the bees to Marguerite and Fleur. Not to mention that for the amount of time they stayed in the suite, Marguerite would have knocked on the door impatiently some hundred times over by now. This gave them the chance to lock themselves away together. The dams had broken loose when the door first closed behind them. Erik couldn't remember ever feeling half as much passion.
"I hope I can continue to give you happiness for many years, Erik." Isabelle replied in a soft voice. "Are we really going home today?"
Erik sighed. Part of him definitely didn't want to return to the state house by the Paris Opera House. Yet another part of him ached for Marguerite, Fleur, and Gerard. He knew perfectly well that Isabelle would understand that. She seemed to be the only person who did understand him so completely. Sighing, he sat up, still holding her in his arms so she had to sit up as well.
"Yes." He agreed softly. "We're going home today. I have to go back to rehearsals tomorrow. I've been getting complaining telegrams from the managers about my temporary replacement. They want me back desperately."
Isabelle giggled, reaching out to grab his arm as he pushed away the sheets and started to stand up.
"But we aren't leaving right now." She whispered softly. "Are we?"
He turned, looking her over slowly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smile.
"No." He admitted. With that, she all but lunged at him, slipping her arms tightly about him.
"Well then, what are we going to do until then?" She challenged in her most seductive voice. It didn't take much to subdue him now that they were married, and he replied to her question with a searing kiss.
/////////////////------------//////////////////////////////
"Papa!"
Marguerite squealed with excitement as she leapt from the front porch swing of the townhouse. The sky above was a deep fiery orange, and she wore a pretty crimson dress, her black hair in thick curls, and pulled back by a large red bow. She ran for Erik excitedly as he came through the gate with two large suitcases in his hands. He was forced to drop them when it was quite obvious she planned on literally jumping up into his arms.
"Marguerite!" He replied enthusiastically, letting the cases fall with a thud as his arms held up her now weighty body. She was in very healthy shape for her age, now that she'd spent so much time in such a healthy environment. "Oh, Ma petite! Have you grown in one short week?"
"Short?" She cried sounding almost enraged. "That week was not short, Papa! It was forever!"
"Was it?" He asked with a chuckle, kissing her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Cherie. Rest assured I'm not going away again for quite a very long time."
Putting her down, he turned to touch Isabelle's waist, and let her pass him on the walkway. When she had gotten by, he picked up the suitcases again, and headed towards the house.
"Hello, Marguerite." Isabelle said to the child fondly. Marguerite looked up to Isabelle for a long moment, as though trying to figure out what to say or how to act now. Then, she smiled brightly.
"Hullo!" She greeted, and then bounded back towards the house.
"Marguerite - where are your mother and sister? Where is Gerard?"
She stopped again on the steps, waiting impatiently for Erik to catch up with her.
"Fleur is in bed. She fell down today and Mama told her to stay in bed the rest of the day. Gerard is with Mama. She went to dinner with a man today!"
"Did she?" Isabelle asked, sounding both surprised and delighted. "Good for her!" Erik ignored the latter part of the conversation altogether. Moving past his wife and 'daughter', he lugged the two suitcases hurriedly up into his room, dropped them off, and then peeked into Fleur's bedroom.
"Cherie?" He asked softly, watching the figure on the bed as she rolled over lethargically. Reddened eyes looked at him across the dimly lit room, and he hurried over to her side. "Cherie, are you all right?" His eyes scanned over her covered frame. "Are you hurt?"
Fleur watched him a second, and then reached up to rub at her head. He noticed a bruise on her arm, and quickly reached out to examine it. It turned out that there was more than one bruise. There were a series of small, oval shaped bruises that looked almost like finger marks. When he went to touch one carefully, she flinched. So they had to have been quite fresh.
"My dear, did someone do this to you?" He whispered, feeling a flare of rage well up inside him. Fleur looked away quickly, and shook her head almost frantically. Sighing, Erik reached up and gently probed at the tender lump under her hairline. "Will you write down what happened for me?"
She shook her head again, and he sighed heavily.
"All right, Cherie. Let me see your beautiful green eyes."
She did that for him at least. He determined that she didn't have a concussion, and would be all right come morning. Kissing her cheek, he stood, told her to rest as her mother had ordered, and then left her alone to sleep. Back downstairs; Marguerite was trying to have Isabelle tell her everywhere they'd been on their honeymoon. Isabelle was blushing profusely, trying to think of what to tell such a small girl. Erik smiled as she fumbled for an explanation, and then shook his head.
"What we did on our vacation, my dearest, is none of your business." He told Marguerite gently. "We shared adult moments, all right?"
Marguerite stared up at him incomprehensively. Then, she smiled and ran over to hug him again tightly. Erik looked over her head at Isabelle, who smiled at him gratefully, and watched him lovingly. Her eyes lowered to watch Marguerite and how he stroked her black curls. He understood what she was wondering. Immediately after their marriage, she had asked him about what he'd say if they ever had a child. Whether he might want a boy or girl, or what they would do in raising the child. Now apparently she was watching, thinking of how he would be like that with their own children.
"I missed you, Papa." Marguerite whispered. "I didn't like it when you were gone! The man mama is seeing is dreadful!"
"Is he?" Erik thought about upstairs in Fleur's room; the marks on her arms. They had been large bruises, not belonging to Madeline by any means. Yet he dismissed the idea. He had no proof yet, and he knew that Marguerite was the jealous type.
"He's so MEAN!" Marguerite insisted. "He only yells at Fleur and me!"
"Does he hit?" Erik asked cautiously, crouching down to look into her eyes. "Does this man hit any of you?"
Marguerite looked away slowly, not saying anything. Erik made a low growl and stood up, turning to storm towards the door.
"Isabelle, keep them upstairs please." He hollered over his shoulder.
/////////////////-------------//////////////////////////
Three hours would pass before Madeline came home in a dingy old coach. Erik had lit the porch lamps, and stood on the top step as he watched a middle-class looking gentleman step out of the porch and march up to the fence. The sway in his balance told Erik immediately that the man was intoxicated. He wasn't even being chivalrous enough to help Madeline from the coach. She had to climb down herself, a half-asleep Gerard in her arms, and her arms squeezing a soft velvet wrap about her shoulders. She didn't see Erik there immediately, and neither did her consort.
"Damn it, woman! I said I wanted to go back to my place!" The drunk snapped angrily at her as she moved past him towards the house. Reaching out, the man shoved her shoulder, and she lost her balance, nearly dropping Gerard.
Erik observed as she regained her balance and strode towards the house without saying anything about his treatment towards her. Yet when the man came up behind her to snatch at her hair through a bonnet like hat, Erik stalked down the steps onto the walk way.
"Touch her again, Monsieur, and I will kill you." He growled, his hands clenched into fists until his knuckles turned white. His presence took both Madeline and the drunk off guard, and stopped in their tracks. Yet the man was a quick thinker.
"Who the hell are you?" He demmanded, his eyes narrowing angrily. "Stay out of this! It's none of your business!"
"Like hell it's not!" Erik snapped. "The woman you're daring to strike happens to be my friend. Her children are like my own. And if you come a step closer to this house I will not hesitate to kill you."
"I'd like to see you try it!" The man sneered. "Madeline, who is this bastard?"
She looked up at Erik sheepishly, her face somewhat discolored. She bit her lower lip nervously as Erik watched her carefully, but his eyes were very gentle when he looked at her. He certainly had no reason to be angry at her. Not yet, at least.
"Frederick, this is Monsieur Erik. He owns the house. He's been letting my family stay with him and his wife." She looked up at Erik still. "I didn't know you'd be back today, Erik."
Erik simply shook his head, moving closer to the man called Frederick. The man had salt n' pepper hair, which had apparently been a flattering copper color at one time. Yet there was very little of that color left to it. He was perhaps around Erik's age - Erik's true age. He had jade green eyes that seemed frozen over with ice, they were so cold. His irises were surrounded by bloodshot whites.
"Maybe instinct brought me back." He said coolly. "Considering this is truly my house, I think I have the right to order this man from the property. Unless of course you want a dangerou drunk near your children again."
Madeline blanched, and looked away as though ashamed of what had happened. She had reason to be, of course. Yet Erik wasn't going to say that to her. Surely she hadn't known the man was going to hurt her babies.
"Go inside." Erik told her in the tone of a stern father. "I have words to exchange with Monsieur Frederick."
The man looked enraged.
"I have nothing to say to you!" He snapped, obviously too drunk to understand what a rage Erik was in.
Madeline glanced over her shoulder, and then wisely ran into the house, slamming the doors behind her to hide from what was about to happen. Yet Erik didn't hear the door crack open again as Isabelle came down moments later to find out what was happening. He simply stalked like a panther down the walk way, over to where Frederick held up both hands into fists, as though getting ready for some fight.
Erik didn't want to waste his time grappling with him, so he set out with his foot, kicking the drunkard in the stomach and knocking him onto his back. Then, grabbing himy by his long salt n' pepper hair, he dragged him out onto the street behind the coach, and crouched over him threateningly. Frederick, by this point, in his drunken state, was only starting to get over the kick to the stomach. He stared up at Erik with glazed eyes.
"If you come near them again, I will kill you." He whispered. "I should kill you for what you did to Fleur. Rest assured that if I ever see you again - and I don't care if you're only crossing the street - I will kill you. Now get away from my family!"
He hut Frederick as hard as he could in the face for good measure. He heard the bones of his face break, and when he stood up, the drunkard was bleeding severely from his nose. He didn't care.
He turned and stalked away, back around the hired coach, and closed the gate in front of his house calmly behind him. He was only halfway back up the walk when he saw Isabelle staring at him from the top porch step, her eyes wide in horror at what she'd seen and heard. No one had ever seen his temper before from the family. Now she knew what it could meet to get him angry.
"What?" Erik asked, a bit irritably. "Do you want me to apologize for giving that bastard what he deserves?"
Isabelle shook her head, and he realized she was trembling a little bit. Sighing, he shook his head, and then moved up to stand just below her in front of the steps to the porch. Reaching out slowly, he offered his hands to her. It took a few uncertain moments, but she took them, squeezing his fingertips.
"I'm not going to hurt anyone, Izzy." He told her gently, using the nickname he'd heard her father use in the hospital. Although he wouldn't use it too often, he was very fond of the little name. "But anyone who threatens those I love is going to pay for even considering it."
She nodded slowly, and then turned to lead him quietly into the house.
