Home At Last

Kathleen was glad for the routine of Saturdays, for even though they all slept in late that day, it was busy with laundry and housecleaning. All the children had a share in the chores and Kathleen was not able to think much on the previous night's drama while supervising the children.

Usually cleaning day was a time of laughter, even though everyone was working. Water fights at the wash tubs were great fun, and sliding down the banister while polishing the woodwork helped lighten the work load. Sheet draped ghosts flitted about the big house when the bedding was stripped from the beds.

Some of the children were more subdued since James and Dorcas had left with their new parents, but soon they too were enticed into the merrymaking.

The older girls took turns helping Kathleen with the mountain of laundry and keeping Josie content. Priscilla, too, played with the baby for a time and then ran into the back yard and hugged a tree, looking longingly at Erik's house. He had not put in an appearance at breakfast or dinner, and the little girl could not seem to start her day off right without seeing her "Mithter Erik."

Kathleen caught herself glancing at Erik's house as well, wondering if he had actually stayed or sneaked away in the night. Finally, at mid-afternoon she had her answer.

"Kathleen!" Erik's angry roar carried across the lawn. The man himself came charging toward her, a terrified boy grasped by the scruff of the neck in each of his large hands.

Kathleen dropped the wet laundry she was hanging and rant to intercept the trio. "Erik! What on earth are you doing to those boys?"

The two looked as if they would faint on the spot as he dropped them in a heap at her feet. "They were smoking in my privy and set the floor on fire!"

A rather green-faced ten-year old Jackson set up a wail like a three year old and thirteen year old Tommy looked pale, though a mischievous twinkle still gleamed in his eye. Suddenly Jackson lost his lunch all over Erik's polished black boots, as if to add insult to injury. Erik looked at his splattered feet and a nerve began to twitch in his jaw as his face flushed bright red.

"Erik—" Kathleen gasped, desperately trying not to laugh as she attempted to say something to ease the situation.

Erik glared at her in outraged disbelief. "I fail to see what is so damned funny about this, Kathleen!"

"Don't swear—Erik," she managed before turning away and giving into gales of laughter.

Erik looked at her as if she had just sprouted an extra head, then stomped off. The boys too looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

Kathleen finally regained her composure and was able to see to Jackson. Then after getting the girls back to their laundry hanging, she went to find Erik. It wasn't hard. He was making a fine racket as he took up the charred floor boards of the privy.

He's blowing off a head of steam, she thought, still amused by the whole Jackson affair. Erik ignored her, though Kathleen knew good and well he realized she was there.

"Jackson is sorry about your boots, Erik. He said he would polish them for you," she said by way of a peace offering.

He still refused to acknowledge her as he tramped to the back of the cottage for scrap lumber and a hand saw, measured the pieces, and began to saw them.

"Erik, what are you so angry about?" Kathleen huffed, her patience wearing thin. "The privy, or that I laughed at you? I'm sorry, but it just struck me as funny and I couldn't stop it." She threw up her hands in exasperation. "I needed a good laugh after last night, to tell you the truth."

That stopped Erik in his tracks. He stood to his full height and turned to her, pinning her with cold green eyes. "Glad I could oblige you with a good laugh, Mademoiselle!"

Kathleen moved to stand before him. "I did not mean to offend you, Erik. And the boys will be punished. They will paint the privy for you and will also lose recess privileges for a week." Her lips curled into a smile. "I doubt poor Jackson will soon forget his first attempt at smoking."

Erik's face lost some of its tense angry look as he went back to his work, but he still did not speak.

Kathleen tried one more time. "You know, you might have tried something like that as a boy…" She suddenly cut herself off and bit hard on her lip.

"If I had been a normal boy, you mean," Erik finished, looking up at her from his work placing the new boards in the privy floor.

Kathleen turned away, mortified by what she had said. "I'm really making an idiot of myself today!" She muttered miserably.

Erik's warm, broad hand grasped her arm and turned her back toward him. "I know you didn't mean anything by it," he said softly. "You were just making an observation." A small smile tickled his lips. "I over-reacted about the privy and my boots." He looked down at the dull boots and the smile grew wider. "Though I will let Jackson polish them. I suppose I am still learning about the things that boys do—what children do." He held Kathleen's gaze warmly. "I have much still to learn about the world, it seems. I've been locked away far too long."

"You had good reason," Kathleen said. "Which reminds me, I didn't get a chance to tell you the rest of what Clareesa told me about Paris, and it is important to you."

Erik's expression told her that he would rather not hear about Paris at all, but she plunged ahead, knowing his opinion would change after she told him.

"Clareesa said the police claim to have found a man's body by a lake underneath the opera house and are calling it 'The Phantom's Corpse.' His face was badly burned, but there was still a charred mask on one side. Some of the people who had worked at the opera identified him as the man who had lived in the cellars and haunted the place."

Erik's mind raced as he listened to this incredible tale. It was true he had left his white mask behind just before his escape…and there was only one person he could imagine who would come and see if he had indeed made it to safety or if he had been killed. It had to be the work of Madame Giry, his one true, trusted friend.

Someday, mon cherie, I will thank you after enough time has gone by, he vowed. Suddenly a real sense of freedom filled his being. He smiled possibly the biggest smile he had ever smiled since coming to the orphanage.

"Thank you, Kathleen," he said and took her hand. He bowed and bestowed a courtly kiss on the back of her hand. She turned rosy and would not look him in the eye. She seemed flustered when she told him that she had to return to work. Erik chuckled and said, "Well now, I do believe we are even, my dear. I've floored you for a change!"

"Oh, do go on!" She shot back at him as she made her way back toward the house. Midway across the lawn she stopped and listened. Erik was whistling a happy tune and she smiled radiantly, knowing that everything would be just fine now.

However, her heart still pounded against her ribs and her face reddened again as she thought of his kiss. If she had looked into his eyes just then, her secret would have been secret no more.

Erik came to supper carrying Priscilla on his arm. The little girl was dirty from head to foot, but giggling happily at being with "Mithter Erik" again.

Kathleen's mouth dropped open at the sight of her. "What have you two been doing?"

Erik couldn't help but grin as he said, "She's been 'helping' me this afternoon. She mucked all the dead leaves out of my flower beds and is preparing them for planting."

He surrendered the filthy child to Kathleen, who sent her off with one of the older girls for a good washing up.

"You spoil her, Erik," she scolded, though her twinkling eyes took any reproof out of her words.

"The little mademoiselle charms me," he said in his defense, and took his usual seat at the end of the dining room table.

Jackson eyed Erik warily from his seat midway up the table and Erik winked at him. The rest of the children saw the exchange and glanced Erik's way cautiously, much as they had during his first meal with them, but soon quiet conversation blended with the sound of silver scraping on china, the way it normally did at mealtime.

Toby whispered loudly to the boy on his left that he was going to learn to play the piano because Mr. Erik had promised he could.

Tommy snickered at Toby from across the table, proclaiming, "Boys don't learn to play the piano! That's for girls!"

Toby's face fell, and Erik jumped to his defense. "I play the piano, Tommy, and am I not a boy?" He said sternly enough so that the whole table could hear. Every eye riveted on him and Tommy flushed with embarrassment and looked down at his plate.

Nine year old Monty piped up and said, "Yeah, but you're a teacher!"

Kathleen grinned at Erik from the opposite end of the table. Her expression clearly said, Let's see how you get out of this one.

Erik rose to the challenge, looking one at a time into the faces of the children as he spoke. "There was a boy a long time ago named Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart who wrote his first piece of music and played it on the piano at seven years old."

A gap-toothed boy named Leroy called out, "That's how old I am!"

The rest of the children looked at Erik with wide-eyed fascination, as a chorus of "oohs" and "ahhhs" echoed round the table.

"When did you learn to play?" A girl of eleven asked.

"Not so young as Mozart, Victoria," he told her. "I was thirteen. I did learn to sing as a child though, and still enjoy it."

Kathleen looked surprised at this new revelation, but Erik simply shrugged and grinned self-consciously at her.

"Mr. de Parria plays the violin as well, children," she said. "So you see, you are very lucky to have such a talented teacher."

"Can we hear you play the violin?" One of the children asked.

"I'm sorry, but I don't have one right now," Erik told them, "but if Miss Flannery agrees, I will play the piano for you before bedtime." He looked to Kathleen for consent.

"Pleases" rang out everywhere around the table. Kathleen smiled and gave her permission, but told them dishes would have to be done first. Mrs. Maloney always cooked the meals, but Kathleen let her go early on Saturday evenings and she and the children did all the cleaning up.

The dished probably had never been done with so much order before, or with so little fuss. Soon afterward, the parlor was crowded with sixteen children sitting on the couch, chairs, and floor.

Erik played a Mozart for them and several other lively pieces. Then Kathleen brought out a sheaf of popular music from several years before. Erik did not know the words but played while she led the children in singing.

Kathleen's heart felt near to exploding as she stood at Erik's shoulder to read the words. It felt so right to be here at his side sharing in his passion for music.

He sang a song in French to finish the evening and his smooth strong baritone held Kathleen and the children in awe. They had never hears such a performance in all their lives.

Later, after the children had all been sent to get ready for bed, Kathleen and Erik put the parlor back to rights.

"You have a nice voice, Kathleen," Erik said, closing the piano lid and looking over his shoulder at her.

"My voice is nothing compared to yours," she said as she straightened the couch cushions. When he had first began to sing his song, warm tingling sensations had rushed through her veins, and were with her still. When she finished her chore, she sat down on the neatly-arranged couch and studied him. "You, Erik, have a truly marvelous voice. I am no authority, but I can sense that a voice such as yours should grace the stage."

"Ah, but that can never happen, as we both know," he said dryly, but without bitterness.

"It is a shame," Kathleen said, and then smiled at him. "But this way we can keep you all to ourselves here, without you running off around the world."

Erik noticed that look in her eyes again, that something that was more than just happiness over the evening's fun. He was tempted to ask her about it, but held himself in check. His heart was still wounded by Christine's betrayal and deep inside he wondered if all women, even this one, were prone to such cruelty.

But still he held his hand out to her. "Shall we go see how they are progressing?"

She took his hand, surprised by his offer to go upstairs to check on the children. He helped her to her feet then let go of her hand and took a step away from her. She felt hurt by his quick stepping but gave no indication of it. He held the door for her as a gentleman should and was actually chatty as they walked up the stairs. He said he had enjoyed the evening and spoke of the children's reactions and did not even notice her subdued responses.

While Kathleen went into the first of the two girl's rooms, Erik went on down the long hallway to the large room at the end that she indicated was the boys' room.

Erik could hear a series of thumps and muffled childish cries coming from behind the door and he opened it and stood there for several seconds without being noticed. A pillow sailed across the room and knocked one of the younger boys flat on the floor. When the lad stood up again he suddenly saw Erik standing there. Just then the others did too and made a mad dash for the bunk beds.

"Gentlemen, are you ready for lights out?" Erik said in a tone of voice that clearly indicated that there was no other option.

Leroy piped up from his cocoon of blankets, "What's a gentleman, Mr. de Parria?"

Erik had to think for a moment, for he wasn't used to answering children's questions. He walked to the center of the room and said, "A gentleman is a man or boy who acts with good manners toward all people, and especially to ladies."

Nine year old Monty screwed up his face. "I don't like girls! They're stupid!"

"Now, Monty, a gentleman has to be nice to everyone, even people he doesn't really like," Erik said, pulling the boy's blankets up to his chin. Erik leaned closer to him and Monty sank into his pillow, his eyes wide.

"Believe me, in a few years you will change your mind about girls," Erik promised with a smile.

"Yeah, Miss Kathleen ain't stupid, Monty!" Jackson added. The other boys agreed with this statement, except for one.

Erik noticed that Tommy was the only one not attending the conversation. He was rolled over on his side, his face turned toward the wall.

Probably still smarting from my treatment of him today, Erik decided as he crossed the room and turned down the gas lights. I will have to seek him out tomorrow and try to make friends with him. This new life is nearly exhausting at times!

He backed out the door and closed it behind him. When he turned around, he jumped in fright, startled to see Kathleen's shadowy form leaning against the wall in the dim hallway.

"You are almost as good at scaring people as I was!" He joked.

"I'm sorry," she said with a tired smile. "I was just enjoying hearing you talk with the boys. It's a new thing for them to have a man to talk to, since the only one they have ever had around before is Zeke on occasion."

"I can see that I am going to have to replace this sad mask soon," Erik said, touching it gingerly. "The children still don't seem to know what to make of it, and if I don't it will completely disintegrate soon and really will scare someone."

"Oh, that reminds me," she said, stepping away from the support of the wall. "Stay here a minute. I have something for you."

She walked briskly down to her room at the opposite end of the hall. A light flared momentarily in her doorway and then she returned carrying a small brown paper package. She gave it to him, and he turned it over in his hands for moment, studying it, wondering what it contained.

"I nearly forgot about it yesterday," she said. "It arrived just before Clareesa came but then I didn't see you at supper last night…"

"I know the rest," he said ruefully. He peeled back the paper to reveal a perfectly formed mask made of leather that was the exact color of his skin tone. He examined it thoroughly and said appreciatively, "How ingenious!" as he saw the thin wire earpiece and tiny clip in the nose hole, made to hold the mask snugly in place. He turned away from her and removed the ragged old mask, replacing it with the new one. Then he showed Kathleen.

"It fits amazingly well! How did you ever do it?"

"I kept the plaster mold you made of your face before you made that mask and took it to a costume designer at a theater on Broadway to make the new one from."

He smiled and she was glad he was pleased with it, for it gave her great pleasure to do this for him, to give him something that would make him feel more secure in his new world.

He stepped forward and placed a brotherly kiss on her cheek. His soft breath tickled her ear as he whispered, "Thank you very much, mon cherie."

Kathleen's traitorous heart pounded at his closeness and she stepped away from him. "I—uh—can have another one made anytime you need one," she rushed to say.

"Maybe I should have a black one made for evening wear," he teased.

Kathleen thought she could care less what color the mask was as long as he was the one behind it.

"Goodnight," he told her, and his long strides carried him down the hall and out of sight as he descended the stairs.

Kathleen went back to her room on legs that trembled a bit and closed the door behind her and leaned against it for support. She was so very weary, but her brain would not rest.

She felt at once the urge to cry and the urge to throw something.

Instead, she went to her bedside stand and opened the drawer. She reached for the framed photograph inside and sat down heavily on the bed. She had not looked at it since Erik had come, but she did now, burning every detail of the young soldier's handsome face into her memory. A tear plopped onto the glass and she wiped it away. "Oh, Sam, why did you have to die in that bloody war? I could not love you as completely as you wished, but I still would have been a good wife to you."

She rose restlessly to her feet and went to the window. She could not see Erik's cottage through the trees, and it saddened her. She looked down at the picture again and said to Sam, "Now I know how it must have been for you to be in love all alone."

She looked back through the window and stood up on her toes, straining to see the house just once through the darkness. She gave up finally and sighed, "And this must be how he feels about Christine," and closed the drapes.

Baby Josie stirred in her basket and Kathleen returned the photograph to the drawer and went quietly to the baby's bed to see if she was waking up. Josie squirmed and frowned but then stilled and slept on. Kathleen's gaze traveled over the tiny girl's round face.

"Sweet little one, you could have been mine and Sam's," she cooed to the infant and stroked the wispy strands of hair on her soft head. "But now I want a little boy with Erik's dark hair and emerald eyes."

Immediately she clapped her hand over her mouth, horrified by what she had just said, wondering where that wicked thought had come from. She stalked to her bed and flung herself face down, groaning, "Pray, Kathleen! Pray that God will take this burden from you!"

And she did.