Erik:
Nadir and I sat by the windows in my room and waited. Outside, dusk was falling; the last warm tones of sunset were lingering in the sky, to no avail. Night was winning. I could hear footsteps approaching from the garden—at least two sets of human feet, and the faster syncopation of a creature with four. Anne, the boy, and Truffle?
Apparently so. My son said, "You can stay and listen, Truffle, but you got to keep quiet."
"I'll be here by her." said Anne. "Go on and play, love."
He must have done most of his tuning up indoors, but that slight difference in temperature and humidity between there and here had affected the strings just enough that he had to test and adjust them all again. The instrument itself was a mediocre one; its tone was not good.
Then he began to play, the first notes a little unsure, uneven, but then the thread of melody became gold, like the ugly little spinner of the fairytale who can take a handful of straw and make it into something of beauty and value.
For the most part, it was not what he played that was so remarkable—sentimental ballads, country airs, traditional folk tunes, a scrap of Mozart that wandered in from somewhere. Bach: Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring, which he must have heard in church, a smattering of other hymns… It was his playing. His touch was sure and confident, his technique skilled—and that was before one took into account the fact that he was not yet four.
I went back in my mind and worked out that his birthday must fall sometime near the end of June, which was next month. I had to get him a better instrument than that one, it sounded as if it was made of industrial-grade plywood. He would be turning four.
I had to close my eyes as a wave of complex emotions flooded me. As disastrous as the event may have been, he had been conceived in love, and Christine had loved him enough and loved me enough to find for him, not simply any woman who would agree to take him in for money, but Anne Norbert. I felt an inexpressible tenderness and gratitude toward Christine, and it broke my heart all over again, for I would almost certainly never get to thank her or tell her how much he, and what she had done for him, meant to me.
Then my feelings spiraled outward to encompass Anne as well, with her extraordinary heart. How was it possible to love so many people so much, and all at once, and not explode? Christine, Erik, and Anne, all three together.
I looked over at Nadir, whose expression proclaimed him to be far away mentally. In the past, perhaps, with his late wife and his dead son?
For once, I did not know which of us was to be more pitied, he whose beloveds had died so long ago and far away, but whose love he had had in such great measure—or I, whose loved ones lived so near, yet beyond my touch…
Erik played those worn, old, familiar melodies as if they were paint fresh and new—and then he played something that really was new, a simple lilting tune that became more complex as he made variations on it. It wound down into a whispery end. His own work? Very likely… Silence reigned a long moment, until I filled it with applause. Nadir followed suit, and outside I heard first one, then another set of hands join in.
"Dearheart, you don't clap for yourself!" came Anne's voice, with a gurgle of laughter in it.
I heard a small "Oh.", and the applause diminished to three.
I clapped until my hands stung. When silence fell again, I heard my son ask his mother, "Shall I play again?"
"One more tune for your encore, and then it's off to bed for us. We've got a big day ahead, tomorrow."
"What should I play?" he asked.
"Somewhat to send us off to sleep. What about Lullalow?"
The lullaby came through to me from out of the darkness, drowsy and sweet. When it was done, we clapped again, not so raucously this time, and as they walked away, I heard her say, "That was beautiful. I'm right proud of you. You're the best boy there is, you know that?"
His answer was lost to me, but I could guess it. He would reply that she was the best mother, only of course he would say 'the best Mam!"
I had to remove my mask to wipe my face. I had been crying—again. This made twice in two days. I looked at Nadir. No lights were on in the room, but my night sight sufficed. He had passed his own handkerchief over his eyes.
"It does not matter if—or, rather, when—or where I may die, for the better part of me will still be in this world—and that is not a declaration of suicidal thoughts, Daroga."
"I understood exactly what you meant." said Nadir, somewhat hoarsely.
We passed a few moments in a companionable silence.
"The boy and I," (I was not sure I could say 'my son' at that moment without bursting into tears.) "arranged for him to play tonight. Tomorrow night I will join in—and the day after, which will be Thursday, I will send a note to Anne—you will have to pen it for me—inquiring about giving the boy lessons."
"She will probably want to speak to you in person—and might insist on it being face-to-face."
"I will deal with that when and as it may occur." I informed him. "In the meantime, there is still more investigating to be done."
A/N: I know this is merely a scene, but the next one is so different in tone that I thought the effect of this part would be lost, so I decided to go ahead and post this, short as it is. The next chapter will see Erik Sr. on his way to Lyons!
Wow! As of this writing, I have 228 reviews for 19 chapters! That's 12 reviews per chapter. Thanks to you all. I'm also approaching 9000 hits… I've been writing this story for almost four months now, and the end is not yet in sight!
Sorry, no recipe this time!
The shout-outs:
Allegratree: Yes, New York was wonderful! It should come as no surprise that among the things we did was go to a play, to museums, and find some extraordinarily good gelato. I considered your suggestion, and 'ticked' has become 'brassed', which, to me, sounds much more like Anne.
C. Dragonstongue: Got your review this afternoon. I love a good grovel… ;-) and I aim to please when I can. Hope you like this one…
Sat-Isis: Sorry about your computer. Don't you just love them?
SperryDee: I'm working on that chapter of DPX! Hope I'll finish it this weekend, but the Fantastic Four movie is coming out. I do like Doom…hugely intelligent men in masks, don't you know…
Phantom Raver: You'll have to get in line behind me for L'il Erik cuddling.
Josette: Was that a 'meatballs were heaven' as in, you loved what I wrote, or a 'meatballs were heaven' because you tried the recipe? Either way, thanks!
MetalMyersJason: heh-heh-heh…that's what you think!
Bella: Oh, good! I missed you. Believe it or not, your review for chapter 18 came in three minutes before I posted number 19!
HDKingsbury, you deserve a medal for patience. Consider it awarded—and get better!
An Anti-Sheep Cheese Muffin: I seem to have a psychotic reader on my hands in you…
And thanks to Lindaleriel, Emily aka the Little Ray of Sunshine, Sue Raven, and Erik for President! Luv you all!