A Dark Fate

That evening, Zeke came for a visit. Kathleen welcomed him gladly, for it had been a while since he had stayed for an extended time. A bad cold had kept the old gentleman close to home across town.

"He's still here, I see," Zeke said as he and Kathleen approached the supper table.

"He's a teacher here now," She whispered just before they sat down. She saw Zeke's raised eyebrows, but had no other way of knowing what thoughts churned in his head. Thoughts of the matchmaking kind, most likely.

Indeed these were Zeke's thoughts as he sat at the table exchanging small talk with Kathleen. He tried to engage Erik in conversation, but was unsuccessful. But he wouldn't let the lad's shyness deter him. First he would get to know the young man better and see if he was a suitable match for Kathleen. His looks were a bit strange, but the heart revealed the true nature of the person, not the face, he knew.

While Kathleen oversaw the evening routines of the children, Erik was at the piano. Zeke had followed him and again tried making small talk.

Erik made himself be kind, for though the old man's chattering irritated him a bit, he was Kathleen's friend, and had saved his life.

"Kathleen says you are a teacher here," Zeke said. "What do you teach?"

Erik thought that should be obvious, but answered respectfully, "I have begun giving piano lessons to the children who wish to learn." He then put a special effort into the piece he was playing, just to show off a bit.

"Aye, I can see that you would be good at that." Zeke sat down in a chair not far from the piano and watched as Erik continued to play.

Erik felt uncomfortable having the older man staring at him, so he closed his eyes and lost himself in the rhythm of the music.

Zeke thought the younger man handsome enough, despite the strange mask. He had seen just a bit of Erik's damaged face the night he brought him here, when Kathleen had doctored him. Would he stay long? Zeke wondered. Kathleen needed a good, strong man. This one seemed a bit moody, but Zeke was convinced Katie could sweeten him up.

Erik shook himself out of his self-imposed trance. What was that damned annoying buzzing? He looked around for an unwelcome fly or bee. Then he saw Zeke slumped over to one side in the chair, snoring loudly. Unable to control a mean little impulse, Erik slammed the lid down over the keys. The sharp bang startled Zeke awake.

"What—what's happenin' General? Them Johnny Rebs firin' on us again?"

Erik had no idea what a Johnny Reb was, and innocently shuffled his sheet music and put it away, swallowing his laughter with difficulty. "Bad dream, Sir," He said.

Zeke rubbed his hands over his tired face, mumbling something about them Johnny Rebs trying to flank them, and rose stiffly from his chair.

"To old to be stayin' out so late, lad," He said, shuffling to the parlor door. "Got to be up at the crack of dawn, you know."

Erik saw him out the kitchen door and called out a "good night" to him. On his way back to the parlor, he looked at the tall grandfather clock in the hall and wondered what was keeping Kathleen this evening. It was 8:00 and the children should all be in bed by now. He frowned, deciding to go see if there was a problem upstairs.

The appearance of Kathleen coming from the foyer stopped him cold. She had a small bundle in her arms.

"Look, Erik," she said softly, a dreamy look on her face.

Erik crossed the space that separated them in a few easy strides and looked down at the bundle of blankets in Kathleen's arms. He saw a tiny pink face with a few wisps of black hair across the baby's high forehead. A miniature rosebud mouth made sucking motions as the infant slept.

"Where's the mother?" He asked, looking behind Kathleen, though he already knew. Cold anger grew in his gut. Why did mothers think it fit to abandon perfectly beautiful children?

Kathleen carried the baby into the parlor. "There's a note in her blankets," She said, laying her gently on the settee. She sat down beside her and pulled a rumpled sheet of paper from the folds of the baby's blanket.

"The baby's name is Josie," She read aloud. "Since her mother's death, I can't take care of her and work too. She needs people who can give her what I can't." Kathleen looked up at Erik when she finished reading it to him. "There is no name of course."

Erik's face had lost its thundercloud appearance, but he still looked displeased. "Why didn't the man give the child to a family member?"

"Perhaps he had no family, or they couldn't take on another child. It does no good to ask why, we just have to take care of her now."

Erik watched as Kathleen unwrapped the baby and was amazed by the perfection of her tiny hands and feet.

"There is a box by the front door with her things in it, Erik. Will you bring it in here please? This little lass needs a fresh nappy."

Erik wondered what in the world a nappy was as he went to get Josie's belongings. Soon enough, he found out a nappy was a soggy, smelly thing. He backed off a space, but still watched, intrigued as Kathleen changed the baby's clothes. When the tiny thing started to wail it put his nerves on edge. He wanted to escape the horrid noise, but was unable to pull himself away from the spectacle.

That chore done, he followed Kathleen to the kitchen where, horror of horrors! She handed the screaming infant off to him! "Um, Kathleen, I-uh shouldn't—Oh, Dear! Hold still!" He stammered as the thing nearly slid from his arms.

Suddenly the thing stopped wailing and Kathleen turned abruptly from the kitchen stove where she was warming a bottle of milk. Erik too stared down at the baby, wondering if she had suddenly fallen asleep again. But she was wide-eyed, gazing up at him, a happy smile lighting her face. Erik was completely dumbstruck by this tiny person and couldn't help but smile back.

He looked at Kathleen in wonder and finally was able to say in a hushed voice, "I don't scare her!"

"It seems you have a gift with babies, Erik!" She said, smiling a huge smile, and thinking this was the best thing that could ever happen to him.

But suddenly the quiet was shattered once again by angry cries.

"What did I do?" Erik panicked and held the red, screaming infant at arm's length, as if terrified she would bite him.

Kathleen quickly finished preparing the bottle that had come with Josie's things and expertly propped her in her arms and started her feeding. Blessed quiet again descended on the kitchen. "You didn't do anything wrong," She assured him. "See, she was just hungry."

She felt sorry for the harried man. What an introduction to baby care he had just been given!

"Can you manage?" He asked, clearly ready to bolt for home.

"Yes," She said absently.

As he slinked toward the back door, he saw that she was already enamored with the baby and was talking silly talk and cooing as she coddled her. He closed the door behind him with a sigh and began the walk toward home, concluding that babies were both amazing and nerve-wracking. He was also glad that Kathleen was enjoying the job of taking care of the demanding little creature, and was quite adept at it without his help.

Erik noticed Kathleen looked quite the worse for wear at breakfast the next morning. She nearly nodded off in her plate several times. Baby Josie was sleeping soundly in a wooden bed that looked for all the world like a wooden crate, oblivious to the ooh's and ahh's of the children as they came in for breakfast and stopped to peek at the baby.

"Is that woman back yet?" Erik asked after breakfast, referring to Kathleen's missing assistant.

She covered a yawn before answering. "No, and she won't be back. I received a letter from her yesterday."

"Damnation!" He growled. "You can't keep up with a baby and your other duties too! You look dead on your feet already, and the day's just begun! You need more help here!"

"Thank you for your kind observation, Sir!" Kathleen said in a wobbly voice, tears glimmering in her eyes. She snatched the sleeping baby, startling the poor child into frightened crying. The last Erik saw of the pair, Kathleen was trying to hush the baby while tears washed down her own pale cheeks.

With a puzzled look on his face, Erik asked himself just what he had done to cause such a display. "Women truly confound me!" He muttered, heading toward the parlor. At least he and music understood each other.

Later that morning, Erik was working on his first piece of music since coming to America. While he was putting down notes on the page, the parlor door opened. He closed his eyes in annoyance for a moment, in no mood for more feminine waterworks. He pasted an agreeable expression on his face though and turned to the door, expecting to see Kathleen.

"Oh, excuse me!" An attractive young woman said, clearly taken aback by his masked face. She didn't look frightened exactly, just surprised by it. "I was looking for Kathleen."

"Clareesa!" Erik heard Kathleen exclaim from the hall.

The two hugged in the doorway with Josie tucked in between them.

"And who's this?" Clareesa asked, eyeing the baby girl with delight.

"This is our newest arrival Josie," Kathleen said, passing the baby into her friend's eager arms.

Erik rolled his eyes as much cooing and gushing ensued. He closed the piano lid with a huff of exasperation as his concentration and peace and quiet vanished. I need to stop spending so much time in this house. Have a piano put in my house, perhaps.

"Excuse me ladies," He said, trying to leave the room so they could chatter to their hearts content.

But Kathleen wasn't about to let him off that easily. She led the lady into the parlor and said, "Clareesa, this is Mr. de Paria, our new music teacher since the second week of this month." She didn't tell of Erik's rather strange arrival a month earlier in April. "Erik, this is Clareesa Whitney. She has been abroad in Europe for the winter."

"Enchanted, Mademoiselle Whitney," Erik said, bowing courteously, hoping he could now escape.

"It's Mrs. Whitney," She said with a warm smile as she and Kathleen sat down. "Judging by your accent, Mr. de Parria, I would say that you are from France, am I correct?"

Erik's blood chilled a bit. "I was born in France, yes," was all he would say. But it was never home, he thought darkly.

"I found Paris charming," She continued, still smiling. "But it was a shame the beautiful opera house was recently burned. I was so looking forward to seeing a performance there. Just from looking at the ruins you could tell it had been a magnificent place."

Erik was finding the room excruciatingly warm. "Excuse me ladies, there is something I really must see too." He made a hasty retreat to the door, closing it all but the tiniest crack behind him. Then he stayed to listen.

The woman continued her tale of the opera house, laughing in disbelief about some ghost story of a strange phantom who was said to have lived in the bowels of the opera and started the fire in a jealous rage over a woman. She said the story was told rampantly on the streets. Erik could hear no more then and left the house in a silent, cold fury.

So, the fates had struck again in their cruel game of destiny! He would have to leave the orphanage just as he was starting to find a place for himself in the world, a place of peace.

He paced his small back porch like a powerful jungle cat in a cage. How long would it take for someone to make the connection between him and the opera fire? He was not safe even here in America, hundreds of miles from Paris.

"Perhaps I should just turn myself in!" He said bitterly. "Just let them hang me and get it over with!"

Boiling, seething rage pounded in his veins and he grasped the porch support and wrenched it with mighty force. Wood screeched and groaned as it splintered. He did the same to the next support and jumped out of the way just before the porch roof fell with a crash.

He fell to the grass, breathing harshly, bitter tears blinding his eyes. He held his head in a crushing grip with his powerful hands and hunched over in a miserable shaking ball of humanity.

"Why?" He cried out. "Why is peace always so out of reach?"