A Heart that waits, A heart that bleeds

by EverspringNative

From Erik's POV. For a year, Erik has been planning for Christine's return during the 1889 World Fair. His plans and his soul slowly unravel as he learns his obsession is not what he first thought. NOT an EC Shipper. Please R&R EOC completed

3. Waiting Game

Ch 2

For weeks Alexandre has asked to see the Columbian Fair Grounds. God knows the commissioners have been working for months on their project of bringing the world to our city. I suppose depending on what sort of person you are, it really is magnificent. I don't blame Alexandre for wanting to see it.

I imagine in the four hours he was gone, he saw much of it but I didn't ask him. He came into the foyer quiet as a mouse and attempted to sneak past Madeline. Had it not been for her, I would never have known he had returned. She howls worse than the Basset Hound Alexandre charmed me into allowing into the house last year.

The dog, Bessie, was asleep at my feet when Alexandre returned. Lazy and fat, the animal did nothing more than wriggle her tail in delight of his return. I leaned over in my chair and scratched her head. She looked up at me, and together we listened as Madeline's shoes clicked the wooden floors. I was glad for the diversion.

"Mon Deiu! Your father will be furious, Alexandre!" Madeline exclaimed. Such an actress. There are days I wish I had promoted her on the stage, that woman. 'Go to him at once, do you hear me?"

The boy made no reply. Bessie and I exchanged glances, our thoughts somehow connected for a moment. If anyone knew the workings of my mind, it was that damned dog.

"Where have you been, young man?" Madeline demanded.

I heard Alexandre stomp up the first three steps, then stop. Madeline had caught him. My jaw clenched as I waited for her to strike him. Both Madeline and Meg had nannied him since infancy. Lord knows she has very much wanted to slap his ears back as of late, but she knows I prefer that he not suffer physically. It takes quite a lot of effort to rile Madeline, for which Alex is quite fortunate.

And sometimes Alexandre is far too much like me.

"Go," Madeline said. "And pray on your way up the stairs."

I exhaled sharply and twisted in my chair to see my son drag himself into my room. Bessie scurried under the bed. Not even she wanted to see the torrent that would pass between father and son.