Gracie woke up. She was warm, in her bed, covered by blankets. It was late at night. A ray of moonlight filtered through the curtains and illuminated the shiny floorboards and the edge of the carpet, leaving the corners of the room in deep shadow. Gracie hugged Lily, her favourite doll, huddling deeper into the blankets. And then she heard it again, a low, distressed moan that filtered through the crack of the door and into her room. Gracie knew that sound, that voice. She cast the blankets to one side and hopped from the bed.
Padding on bare feet and holding Lily against her chest, she opened the door of her room and stepped into the hall. She crossed it and pushed the door in front of her. The door opened silently on well oiled hinges.
This room was darker, and Gracie could barely make out the form lying on the bed. It moved to one side, an arm covering its head, and moaned again in anguish:
"No! No, please. Show some mercy. . ."
"Papa?" asked Gracie.
"No, not the whip, please. . . I'll play, I'll play. . ."
Gracie stepped closer, until she was beside the bed.
"Papa, wake up. It is a nightmare."
Papa cowered from her until his back hit the wall. Now both his hands were covering his head.
"No, please. . ."
Gracie lifted the covers and slid into the bed, beside him. She lay down and caressed the back of his hand.
"It is all right, Papa. You are dreaming. . ."
Suddenly, his arms darted forwards and grasped her to him. Gracie huddled closer, using his arm as a pillow.
"Gracie," he muttered, trembling.
He was still asleep, but now the nightmare had gone away. He would stop trembling in a little while and he would hold her until the morning. He would wake up before her and quickly adjust his mask. He always wore it. He even slept with it. He was very ugly, he had told her, and she wouldn't like seeing his face. When she woke up, he would ask her why she was in his bed again, and she would tell him that she had had another nightmare, that she had been afraid of staying alone in her room when she had woken from it. And he would believe her. He always did.
Gracie closed her eyes and told him what he had told her countless times when she had woken up from her own nightmares:
"Yes, Papa. Lily and I are here. You are safe. No one is going to harm you. . ."
She mumbled the last sentence against his chest, already half asleep.
"Come, Gracie," urged Darius as he made his way out of the store.
Gracie stopped looking at the big jars that held all kinds of sweets and trotted after him. She grasped his hand just as they were going out of the door. The customer's bell dinged and the door closed behind them.
"Now, where are we heading to?" asked Darius.
"To the market," piped Gracie.
"And what do we do in a market?"
"We buy food."
"What kinds of food?"
"Fruits, vegeta. . . vegeta. . ."
She always had problems with that one. Darius provided the necessary help.
"Vegetables."
"Vegetables," she repeated dutifully.
By then, they had come to the market and were making their way to the stand where Darius usually shopped. Darius continued with his questionnaire.
"What kinds of fruits?"
"Peaches, cherries, apples. . ."
Darius smiled at Gracie's list. Those were all her favourite fruits. He would have to remember to buy peaches for her. It was the right time of the year for peaches.
They came to the stand, and while they waited their turn, Darius resumed his lesson.
"What is that, Gracie?" he asked, pointing at a crate.
"Spinach," she answered, furrowing her nose in disgust.
Darius chuckled.
"Wouldn't you like spinach soup for supper?" he teased.
"No," was the categorical answer.
Darius chuckled again.
"What would you like for supper, then?"
"Patates à la crème!" she beamed.
"Ah, ah, ah. . ." Darius lifted an admonishing finger.
Her brow furrowed in concentration, while she searched for the words.
"Potatoes. . . in cream?" her voice voiced a question.
Darius considered it for a second. Since there was no precise equivalent in Farsi for "patates à la crème", "potatoes in cream" would have to do. He nodded. Only then did he notice that the customers and the owner of the stand were staring at them.
"What would it be, Monsieur?"
"Ah. . .huh. . ." Having been caught off ward, he was having trouble going back to French.
"A kilo of potatoes," piped a voice beside him.
The stand owner raised a thick grey eyebrow and looked at him questioningly.
"Yes, Mademoiselle is right," said Darius in his thick accented French. "A kilo of potatoes."
They made their way back home, Darius carrying the basket and Gracie munching on a peach.
"Yes, Gracie?" Asked Darius when he felt the tell-tale tug on his hand.
"Darius, what does 'stubborn' mean?"
Darius' eyebrows darted upwards. That was quite a term. He wondered in which conversation Gracie had picked it.
"It's a. . . trace of character," he explained, asking himself whether he was using too complicated words. "It's when somebody is very hard to convince."
Gracie nodded. After a while, she asked again:
"Are mules stubborn?"
Darius couldn't help bursting in a peal of laughter. Now he could picture in what kind of conversation Gracie had heard it.
"Well, yes. When a mule decides to stand still it is almost impossible to make it walk again."
Gracie nodded again and had another bite of her peach.
Darius considered it was time to tell Monsieur Kahn and Monsieur Erik about Gracie's knowledge of Farsi. He had started teaching her words and simple phrases behind their backs after she had, once, answered one of his questions in that language. Not only had her intelligence given him a pleasant surprise, but it had also given him great pleasure to be able to teach her his mother tongue.
Monsieur Kahn and Monsieur Erik usually employed Farsi whenever they talked about something not meant for Gracie's ears. They often discussed and even quarrelled in her presence. Maybe it was time to make them aware they should be more careful with their words now that she had gone way beyond the names of fruits and vegetables.
Author's notes: Thank you Moomoo-Sama, La russe, Violinrose, Sue Raven and Allgratree for your comments! Yes, a couple of years have gone by since Gracie started living with Erik... And concerning his appearance... I hope this chapter casts a little bit more light on it! Please keep the comments coming!
