Child of Freedom
Chapter 2- Questions
"Where did you get that?" Pierre asked me.
"I found it in the cellar." I said, still trying to recover from the shock.
"Why do you think it was there?" He asked, taking the basket from me and putting it on an empty counter.
"I don't know." I replied, gently removing the baby from the basket and cradling it in my arms.
"Is it a boy or a girl?" Pierre asked suddenly.
"I don't know." I said. "I think we should call a doctor to check and have the baby examined." I suggested. "That way, we can know if it's healthy, and what needs to be done to take care of it."
"Good idea." Pierre said. "I'll have Jean take a letter to Dr. Hureaux." He quickly pulled out some paper from a drawer and scribbled a note to the doctor. Then he called Jean in.
Jean was a young boy of about thirteen, who Pierre told me had a crush on me. The boy blushed slightly when he saw me, and his face contrasted with his bond hair.
"Jean, I would like you to take this message to Dr. Hureaux right away. It is very important." Pierre instructed. Jean nodded and took the letter. Then he dashed out the kitchen door.
"I will prepare something for the baby to eat." I said. "Do you think you can handle the preparations without me for a moment?" I asked.
"Of course." Pierre assured me. His brown eyes twinkled in amusement at an unspoken joke.
I smiled back at him, and turned to place the baby back in the basket. It seemed very tired, or else very weak. I wondered how long it had been left in the cellar. I prepared a bottle (we had some because, at one point, before I came, Mme had become pregnant. Unfortunately, the baby had died) and tested it on my wrist before picking the baby up in my arms and feeding it.
The baby seemed to smell the milk, and reached up its little tiny hands. It grabbed at the bottle and began to suck greedily on the nozzle. I had to pull the bottle away from the baby at one point because it was drinking too much milk, too fast. The baby finished off the entire bottle and yawned loudly.
I remembered what I had learned in grade six when I had taken a babysitting course. I gently lifted the baby back into the basket for a moment, and put a towel over my shoulder. Then I picked the baby up again and held it so that its head was just above the shoulder that had the towel on it. Gently, I patted the baby's back until I heard a small urp. I patted its back a few more times, and when it didn't burp again, I lay it down in the basket. Almost immediately, the baby fell asleep. It looked so precious, lying there.
I smiled, and I set the baby a distance away from where Pierre was working. Then I turned to help him. As we worked, I pondered possible ways that the baby could have ended up in the cellar. None of them made sense. I sighed. I hoped that Jean returned soon with the doctor.
-
Erik sat at his piano, writing furiously. An idea had come to him for a song, and he couldn't get the notes down fast enough. Occasionally, he would play a note, but he mostly just wrote what notes came to mind.
Finally, Erik put down his pen, finished at last. He played the song once through, satisfied that it sounded the way he wanted it to.
It only took Erik a few minutes to feel restless again. He wanted to g out and take control of the opera again, but he knew that if he did, not only would Rebecca find out an be disappointed in him, but he would most likely be caught, and punished.
Erik decided to go and see how Rebecca was doing. Normally, he wouldn't have left her side until dark, but because she was with someone who appeared to be trustworthy, Erik had let it go. But now he was becoming restless, and he needed something to occupy his mind.
Erik left his lair under the Opera Populaire, where different operas where still being acted out, and headed towards the rich end of Paris.
The couple that Rebecca worked for was known for being very snotty, and very rich. Their family had been rich for generations, and it was only natural that the respected M. Roger Rouleau and his wife, Maria Rouleau, be renowned for just the same things.
Maria Rouleau was a bit of a sickly creature, with thin blond hair and tight, pursed lips. She always wore clothes that made her bosom look like it had been squashed, and she never did believe in wearing any rouge on her cheeks.
Roger Rouleau was the exact opposite of his wife. He was a rotund, jolly man, who never could seem to stop eating. Unless, of course, his wife told him to. That would be the only time when he would be unhappy. M. Rouleau was often a bit rude, but that was more out of ignorance than it was from thinking that he was superior to others.
Erik reached the mansion in good time, and peeked through one of the kitchen windows. That's when he caught sight of the baby. Rebecca was holding a baby. She began to feed it, and smiled at the cute, chubby, little arms reaching up for the bottle of milk.
Erik needed to know if she had adopted. Such an idea would mean that she had gotten married, or would be getting married, and Erik didn't want that to happen. He didn't know why he didn't want her to get married; he just didn't want her to.
Erik climbed the trellis that led to Rebecca's room, and waited behind the curtain. Every so often, he would hear footsteps approaching the room, and he would hold his breath in anticipation. But the footsteps never entered the room, and he would always be disappointed that he would have to wait a little longer.
Finally, someone entered the room. He held his breath, and stepped back in alarm as the person opened the curtain. Erik covered Rebecca's mouth to prevent her from screaming, which would alert the other people in the house to his presence.
Defiantly, Rebecca tore his hand away from her mouth. "What are you doing here?" She hissed in a low tone.
Erik caught sight of a basket that Rebecca had set down on the bed. Instead of answering her question, he strode over to the basket and looked in. inside was the baby.
"I found it in the cellar when I went down to get some potatoes." Rebecca offered in explanation.
"So it's not yours?" Erik asked.
"Of course not, silly." Rebecca teased with a quiet laugh. "I've barely been here six months. You think I would be crazy enough to marry someone before I knew them for at least a year?" She laughed again and sat down on the bed beside the basket.
Erik sat down beside her and looked at his hands. Rebecca smiled at him. "So how's the new life going?" She asked.
"Boring." Erik said, lying down on the bed with his arms stretched out. "I can't do anything but compose and follow you around." Erik wished he hadn't said that.
"Ah," was all Rebecca said at first. "So that's why I haven't had much for trouble." She mused.
"How about you?" Erik asked. "Has your life been any more interesting? Besides finding that baby, of course."
"No, not really." Rebecca said. She stood up and gently carried the basket over to a table that was in a corner by the window. She set the basket down and smoothed her dress.
"I have to go to bed, now, Erik." She said, looking at him pointedly. "I have a big day tomorrow. Mme Rouleau is throwing a party, and I am the only one besides Pierre who is any good at cooking. That means that I have to get a good night's sleep tonight."
Erik stood up and walked over to the window. He gazed out at the Parisian homes. The people there would be getting their children ready for bed. Someday, Erik hoped to have a family.
The pressure on his arm reminded Erik that there was someone else in the room with him.
"Erik?" Rebecca asked. "Are you all right?"
Erik nodded, and turned away from the window. "I must be going." He said. Then Rebecca did something that surprised him: She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.
"Goodnight, then." She said, smiling.
Erik recovered form the shock of her actions and said goodnight to Rebecca. Then he climbed out the window and headed to back to his lair. Back in his home, Erik passed the night pondering Rebecca's actions, and touching the spot on his cheek where she had kissed him.
A/N: Okay, here's the second chapter. Review, please!
