--

"You can hardly complain." I point out to my husband. "They're gone." I lift up my new dress, pleased with the way the sleeves hung off the bodice. Erik's foul mood would not affect me today.

Erik closes his eyes and presses his finger on his forehead. "Could we… please stop talking about it?"

I fold the fabric and throw him an exasperated look. "Not even my friends? Really, Erik… you just don't like people."

"Correct." he answers succinctly. "I hate people."

"All people. Even the ones who might be nice to you. Assuming you're nice to them, of course. Even the ones you haven't met? Those people, too?"

He gives a deliberate nod to each of my claims.

I lift up a white and yellow dress, one that is a particular favorite of mine, but will be no good during the cool weather. I put it to my face, exposing only my eyes, and give Erik a simpering look. "Even me?"

It's his turn to give me an exasperated look.

"I'm quite serious." I say conversationally. "You like me. But, according to you, you must have hated me at one point. Before you even knew me."

For a moment, he looks slightly horrified that I have come to this conclusion. I can see him searching for something to say to that. I wonder absentmindedly is Erik has ever had to grasp for words around anyone other than me. "I love you." he exclaims softly. "So you're different."

"I'm not saying you don't." I assure him quickly. "I only meant—well, never mind, it was a silly question—"

Still looking a little guarded, her watches me as I continue separating my summer and winter gowns. I hope I have not upset him too much.

"You were different." he repeats, as if he wants to make that perfectly clear. "You weren't like the rest. You were innocent."

I squirm at his tone. The way he sees me is… ridiculous. "I was not perfect." I sigh patiently.

"Yes, you were. Are." is his stubborn response.

"Maybe in your eyes, dear, but no one—"

"You are in my eyes." he agrees, and he sounds pleased that I've said that.

I restrain from rolling my eyes.

He chuckles appreciatively, and I smile. He's been in such a good mood lately… to be exact, ever since Marianne left, although I try not to think about that too much. I still feel foolish for making such a little thing turn into a horrible ordeal for Erik.

As soon as Marianne arrived up North, she wrote me. Already, I've gotten nine or ten letters. Most of them sound cheerful and hopeful, although her irritation shines through when she speaks of how her mother-in-law was not as bad as she'd made her sickness out to be.

"The woman just wants attention, honestly… Karl is not happy with her either, but of course he's too manly to say anything like that about his mother…It's much cooler up here, if feels like autumn already…"

Spring had always been my favorite season. In Paris, it was the time when all the snow was cleared and the flowers began to bloom again. It was the most common time to do a new show at the Opera, after our much needed February break.

But up here, the winter is still very much present during the spring months, and the weather simply grows muggy and damp. I can already tell that autumn will be my new favorite season. The trees are beginning to change—golden, bronze shades that stand out on the grey ground and glimmer oddly in the fading sunlight.

I set another dress over the back of the chair, and Erik asks, "Are you going out tonight?"

"No," I say. "I'm just setting out a few lighter dresses to keep during the winter. I can still wear them with a shawl…"

"You are lovely." he offers unexpectedly.

I turn away. Of course, I am flattered as always, but we made a rule a long time ago that it would be better if neither of us ever mentioned the other one's looks (a rule that I follow religiously, and a rule Erik has and will never follow).

I see him put his fingers up to his face and touch his cheek briefly, and then stand up. "I have a job." he announces suddenly.

I look up, astonished. "You… what?"

He nods.

I set my dress down, pursing my lips in thought. "What are you talking about? When did this happen?"

"It's a company." he murmurs. "Very private, very unique. It's right on the edge of Stockholm."

"Stockholm?" I say skeptically. "When did you go to Stockholm?"

"When I was gone for a while." he explains earnestly. "When I came back to build the piano."

"You went all the way to Stockholm?"

"Love, I went further than that." he points out, watching my eyes closely.

"And this company is…?"

"An engineering company. In a way. They examine each print in construction, fix all the angles and degrees of the structure, make sure everything will match up. They take employees by mail…" He trails off, waiting for me to make the connection.

"So… you mail them work?"

"In a way. They send designs. I decide whether or not I should send them to the company to check for mistakes." He makes a bit of a face. "I'm the middle man."

I nod a little my mind still reeling from this new information. "That is… well, it's wonderful!"

He shrugs, nonchalant. "We'll need the money eventually. We brought quite a lot with us, but we must replenish it somehow. I would feel better if we did not wait until we are in dire need of it." He gives me a sly smile. "I am rather used to having a lot of it."

I, for one, have never even thought about the matter of money, something that seems very ignorant of me now. And I knew our cottage was quite expensive.

"I could always get my own job in town." I suggest. "There are lots of things I could do."

He shakes his head. "Nonsense. You belong in our home. I, being a caring husband, would never make you work."

"I am quite capable."

"Oh, I know." he says, looking surprised. "But I wouldn't want you to feel obligated."

My mind has already traveled into the future. There is a small group called the Mountain Children; seven or eight young boys and girls who meet twice a week to go on nature walks and play in the meadows. Their leader very recently passed on. While that was very sad, I read the notice and saw it also gave a plea for someone to take over so the children could continue meeting. It would only run until October, and they seemed anxious for someone quickly, so the children could have a few more dates.

I run this idea by Erik, who looks slightly doubtful.

"I could do it." I protest. "I have experience working with children, I used to play with them at the Opera." For a moment, I remember all of the little dancers who used to crowd around me and ask for sweets in between their long rehearsals. "I could take care of them fine."

He blinks. "If… if you truly wish."

I am stunned by his lack of argument. "Oh yes!"

He seems unusually stern for a moment. "You would really be dedicated to do that? To be in town for a while?"

"It would only be twice a week." I remind him, guessing his fears. "I will be here most of the time, like always."

I can tell her is reluctant to let me go. But after a moment, he inclines his head, looking a little bemused. "Very well."

I am looking forward to it.

Next Tuesday, I will go down in the afternoon and take the children into the valley. I met my young assistant when I accepted the position in town; she was sixteen or seventeen, with a dimpled smile and hair straight as paper.

I have come a long way from the young girl I was at the Opera.

It really is almost autumn now, and things are changing.

There are the leaves, first of all. The faded green is finally succumbing to all the bright, warm colors of fall, literally the path with crunchy leaves.

There is the weather, which is growing increasingly cooler at night, bringing winds upon us, until I am tucked under my blankets with my hands over my ears.

There is the simple matter of Erik having a job—my Erik, having an actual job, like an actual person!—and the idea that he does not seem repulsed by it, but unexpectedly eager. There is my job as well, a miracle in itself for Erik letting me out of his sight in town for more than five minutes. I think that this activity will not take up nearly as much time as I spent with Marianne, so Erik has no cause of complain. At least, not logically.

Most importantly, there is Erik and I, alone upon our hill. There is no friendly redhead coming to converse with me anymore. There is only Erik for me now, with his lighter moods and his expressions of trust.

And the new baby growing inside of me.

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