CHAPTER 18
The morning was bright and cheery, despite the weather yesterday.
The sky had cleared up about as much as you could expect the factory riddled city to be. Francis woke up earlier than Alice and was already in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. It wasn't that she was a lazy guest. She'd asked if he wanted any help, but Alice was promptly shooed out of the kitchen.
"Voulez-vous jouer pour moi?" Francis asked, smiling at the pouting woman on his sofa. She raised an eyebrow at him. "It's been a while since I last heard musique, mon chéri. S'il vous plaît?"
Alice paused for a moment. She honestly had nothing else better to do, and besides, she hadn't had the time to play the past week. "Won't your son mind?"
"Matthew loves musique." Francis smiled wistfully. "It's one of ze few zings he enjoys."
Alice bent down to her violin case. A sizzling wave of nostalgia flushed through her. It was her father's violin. He had given it to her for her birthday. The rich, dark brown wood shined in the sunlight. Elegant, Celtic knots were curved in the sides. A large 'K' initial was carved in the back, curling at the ends of the lines. The violin was nearly a hundred years old. She clipped on the shoulder rest, and rosined her bow. "Any particular kind of music?" Alice asked.
Francis smiled. "Anyzing will do."
Bow met strings, and music danced through the apartment.
Memories flooded into Alice's mind. She remembered playing the violin alongside her father every Sunday. His bright red, flaming hair would glow in the light. His giant hands would hold the bow delicately, but securely, playing with graceful confidence. The fingers at the neck of the violin would dance around and flit around quickly.
But most of all, she remembered the large, happy grin that was always on his face.
Alice's nose prickled slightly. Memories of her father played through her head. His robust laugh would fill the whole apartment building, sending joy and bright light wherever it went.
Alice's own smile began to grew, though she couldn't feel it, she was too lost in the music.
But Francis could.
Breakfast was completely forgotten as the Frenchman gaped at the woman before him.
Her bright, leaf-green eyes twinkled with excitement and... Pure love. It was something he'd never seen from her before. It sent pleasant shivers down his spine. Alice's arms moved smoothly, despite the bullet wounds in her shoulder. Her posture was confident and filled with elegance. The golden light coming in from the windows surrounded her hair in a golden light, framing her face.
She was an angel.
It was over all too quickly, and the magic faded into memory.
Alice looked up at him, sheepishly. "I know, it sounds bad. I haven't gotten to practice in a week."
"Non!" Francis cut her off a little too quickly. "Il sonnait belle! Je ne l'ai jamais entendu quelque chose comme ça de toute ma vie."
Her face flooded cherry red, "T-Thank you."
A little boy stood in the living room, but Francis and Alice didn't notice him until he started clapping softly. "Matthew!" Francis cried, surprised.
The little boy had soft, rich violet-blue eyes. His curly, blonde hair was still messy from sleeping, and his skin was pale. Matthew carried a white stuffed toy in his arms, a polar bear. A soft smile covered his face.
Translations:
Voulez-vous jouer pour moi? = Will you play for me?
Musique, mon chér. S'il vous plaît? = Music, my Dear. Please?
Musique = Music.
Il sonnait belle! Je ne l'ai jamais entendu quelque chose comme ça de toute ma vie. = It sounded beautiful! I've never heard anything like that in my life.