A/N: Dearest Readers,

This is the next chapter. Thank you all for your unbelievable comments. They were much appreciated. We hope you continue to follow us on our adventure. A new character will be introduced in this one. You will all hear from this person in the near future. Enjoy! As always, read and review.

With much love,

Angelina

Chapter 2 – The Family Man

New York City – 1906

The hustle and bustle of one of the largest cities in the world produced sounds that no man should hear. The daily racket of automobiles and screaming of children were just some of the noises that were slowly driving him insane. He sat at his piano in the grand study of his home. His fingers had rested on the ivory keys that he had been stroked constantly for months. The compositions he had been working on were suffering every morning. This morning his piano was suffering the slings and arrows of the daily grind.

"Would someone please tell them to be quiet!" Erik screamed. "Must they be so disrespectful so early in the morning?"

The door creaked open and he glanced over to see an angel standing in the doorway. A dark red flowing dress seemed to stand out against her pale skin. Her eyes sparkled and seemed to dull out the pendant she wore around her neck.

"And must you join them with your tirade?"

Erik smiled and held out his hand – beckoning for her to join him. "I am sorry, my love, but I have never seen a city so enamored on not sleeping."

Angelina grasped his hand and joined him sitting on the glossy black piano bench. "You must learn to drown it out, Erik. You have chosen to stay in New York. It is a city that never sleeps."

"I thought that was Chicago, mother," said a voice from the doorway.

Erik and Angelina both looked toward the doorway to see a beautiful young woman standing there. She was dressed in a well-fitted light pink gown with her blonde ringlets pinned up.

"No, my dear. Chicago is known as the windy city." Angelina rose and walked over to the young woman. "Have you been teaching her useless things again, Erik?"

"Father has taught me many things, but not useless or enough to suit my curious mind."

"A girl your age, Elizabeth, should not be as curious as you are." Erik began playing the piano – a tune both women had heard enough to recognize. It was a piece from the opera he had written which was the last one they had both performed in.

Elizabeth Alcott was a beautiful young woman who had just turned the mature age of 17. She was the apple of both her father and mother's eye. Elizabeth had her mother's smooth skin and petite body. Her eyes, temper, and talent came from her father. She was the perfect mixture of both parents. She was often told that no one knew where her golden locks had come from. It was a complete mystery to both of her parents and to herself.

"Father, I am a grown woman."

"You are but a child."

Elizabeth went wide eyed as she turned to Angelina. "Mother…"

"I am not involving myself in this discussion. I know better than to get between the two of you." She turned to leave the room and begin down the stairs. "I will be downstairs, making breakfast if you two wish to join me before lunch."

Elizabeth turned from looking at her mother. She looked at the figure sitting at the piano. His fingers glided over the keys as if they were swimming in water. The movements were graceful like a waltz.

"How do you do that?"

"With much practice." Erik looked up at his daughter without breaking from his song. "I have told you this repeatedly."

"You are always occupying the piano."

"That is no excuse, Elizabeth. You have many other outlets that you may use to your advantage. You are lazy and that will be your downfall."

She leaned against the cracking doorframe. "Why do you always say those things to me? Do you not know how hard I try to please you?"

"Do you?"

"Of course I do! I am constantly trying to improve upon my playing, my singing, and even my dancing – as much as mother knows that I dislike it."

"If you were not so preoccupied with a certain boy…"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and sighed. "Jean-Claude is not just a mere boy."

"He distracts you, Elizabeth. You have not been practicing."

"And how would you know? Have you been watching me?"

Erik shook his head and looked back down at the keys. "I have more trust in you than you think I do. However, if your dallying with the boy continues, I will have to cease my extra lessons for you."

She rushed over to the piano and stopped him from playing. Erik looked up into Elizabeth's eyes. Tears were ready to fall at a moment's notice.

"Please, father…I am begging you. Do not stop your lessons. You know how much joy that it brings me."

"Elizabeth Christine…come down to breakfast before your food gets cold. You must attend Mass this morning," Angelina shouted up the stairs. "I would like for you to leave on a full stomach."

Erik patted Elizabeth's hand and rose from the bench. "Let us go downstairs before your mother decides to do away with us both. She is continually slaving over breakfast, lunch, and dinner so that we may fill our stomachs."

"Do not avoid me, father. Please, tell me that you will continue to teach me."

"I will always teach you." He gently kissed her forehead and wiped away a lingering tear. "But do not think that I do not know you are not practicing."

"I promise to practice."

"Do not make promises that you cannot keep."

Erik brushed passed her as Elizabeth stood in the middle of the large study. She looked at the piano sitting in front of her. Sitting down on the bench, her fingers grazed the keys lightly, touching them so that they would not make a sound.

She longed to play as well as her father did. During the night, she would sneak from her room and sleep in the doorway just to hear him play. She had tried to mimic his movements with her own fingers, but never seemed to get it right.

You must find your own way to play. You cannot mimic someone else's and expect it to sound the same way.

It was odd, for Elizabeth, to have parents that were both talented as they were. Her mother was a dancer, a singer, and a pianist. Her father was a world famous composer, a pianist, a singer, and from her mother's claims, a dancer. She was none of those things. Although in her heart, she knew that somewhere deep down that there was a composer lying dormant. She longed to be able to convey her thoughts onto parchment – to compose a great opera that the entire world would fall at her feet clamoring for.

"Elizabeth Christine!"

Jean-Claude had offered her the world. She was willing to take him up on the offer. He was a young man who was secure in his future. Elizabeth didn't understand why her father hated him so.

"I will not ask again, Elizabeth," Angelina yelled impatiently.

Elizabeth rose from the bench and walked down the winding staircase. Her thoughts had always belonged to the music within her mind. Did her father have the same feelings she had? Did the notes haunt her until he scribbled them onto parchment? Did his fingers tingle as they danced on the ivory keys as they made his music come alive?

"I am so glad that you could join us," Angelina said – not turning from the stove.

"I am sorry, mother. I was…" She watched as her father eyed her with concern. "…pondering what I was going to do after Mass."

"And what are you doing, my dear?" Erik asked inquisitively.

"I will come home for my lesson, as always." Elizabeth smiled as her father nodded. "I believe today is Mozart, is it not?"

"Bach. We covered Mozart last time."

"But I love Mozart," Elizabeth whined.

"Mozart has been studied for several weeks. It is time to move onto another composer." Erik watched as Angelina did various tasks around the kitchen. "Angelina, are you going to join us?"

"I have too much to do – dishes to clean, windows to wash, and…" Angelina screamed as Erik pulled her onto his lap. She slapped him with the dish towel she had in her hand. "Erik, how many times have I told you not to do that?"

Elizabeth smiled as she watched her parents kiss. Standing, she took the Bible off of the table. She envied their love and hoped one day she would find a man that would love her as much as her father did her mother. Her thoughts turned again to Jean-Claude but quickly faded. "I will return in an hour."

Angelina quickly broke the kiss and looked over at Elizabeth. "Do you wish for me to walk with you to St. Mary's?"

"I believe I can make it." She walked toward the door and turned back to the two of them. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being my parents. Not many children I know have talented parents like I do. Most can boast about their riches and worldly possessions. I can boast of how talented and famous my parents are."

Angelina rose and walked over to Elizabeth. She put her daughter's face in her hands. "You are not ashamed because we cannot provide you with what your friends have?"

"You have provided me with everything I could have ever dreamed of. I have a beautiful house – a place where I can improve upon talent that I could nowhere else."

"We have moved you from place to place…"

"What child has not wanted to travel? I have seen more places in my lifetime than most will ever see. I am envied. And I am loved by the both of you." Elizabeth kissed Angelina on the cheek before opening the door. "I know that I am not the perfect child, but I hope that you are proud of me nonetheless."

Erik and Angelina both watched as Elizabeth left without another word said. Angelina turned to Erik with tears in her eyes.

"What would make her say something like that?"

Erik shook his head. "I believe I might have had something to do with that."

"Erik…"

"She has not been practicing, Angelina!" Erik stood and walked over to a window. Outside he could see patrons walking down the street and newsboys trying to sell the latest headline. "She is too enamored with the boy."

"Jean-Claude, I will admit, is a distraction. But why did you have to fill her thoughts with things such as those?"

"She must have had those moments before. I did not put those images into her mind."

Angelina walked up behind Erik and wrapped her hands around his waist. She leaned her face against his tense back. "She respects you, Erik. She admires and loves you."

"Then she must show me that. Instead of merely telling me she must show me. Why is it so hard for her to understand that I know that she loves me?"

"Because you are as hard on her as you were me when you were teaching me my lessons." He turned toward her and looked down at her. "She is not as strong as me. She is fragile and is still learning of the world around her."

"We have raised her since birth. You would think that she would know of the hardships that life has to offer."

"She still has much to learn." Angelina pulled away from his strong arms and began to clean-up the mess that lied before her. "She is not like me or you. Elizabeth is different – she is unique. We must learn to respect that."

"Angelina…"

She sighed and grasped his hand. Angelina didn't care if it was wet from dish water or not. "Give her the space that she needs. She will come to us if she needs us."

"This boy will hurt her, Angelina. I know his type."

"You think you know his type." Angelina turned back to start washing the dishes again. She peered out the window and saw the rotting swing hanging from a large tree branch. Angelina could hear Elizabeth's laughter from when she was a child as she swung on the swing. "But she knows to use her instincts. Let her be. She can only learn by example."

Erik just nodded and sat back down at the kitchen table. "Learn by example indeed."