A/N: Well, hello again at last! I am finally wrapping up this story in the next chapter or two, and I thank you all for your understanding as I have gone through many schedule and life changes of late. I am sure that some of you are frustrated by my lack of recent updates, but sometimes that's just the way life goes. I promised you I would complete the story, and I keep my promises. (I may decide, however, to leave the ending up for a limited time because I would like to do a major re-edit on this story. And you never know...I might just change the ending again after I've posted it. I haven't yet made up my mind.) I want to say thank you to all those who have been reading this story. I hope that it has touched you in some small way, and that you have enjoyed it. I want to say that writing this story has awakened a dream of mine that had been asleep for too long, and now I have begun a new career because of it. So...thank you to those of you who have been so very, very encouraging to me over the past year. (Yes, it's actually been over a year since I began this story.) But I've said enough...
Chapter Seventy-Three
"What in the name of--" Erik's eyes were wide as saucers. "How...when? Where did you--?" He inhaled at last, trying to form a sentence without stuttering, straightening himself as he did so. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm so glad that I could surprise you. I felt I owed it to you, since you surprised me with your unannounced departure, Erik." The former daroga of Mazenderan stepped across the threshold of the dingy orphanage, a wry smile creasing the already heavily wrinkled skin around his eyes. "I have come to help in any way I can."
"But...I--"
"No, don't," the older man said, lifting up a hand in protest. "Don't try and lie to me. I know you are struggling here to build this place, and we've come to help."
"We?"
"Of course. Darius and I." He removed his bowler. "I understand that you are greatly unprepared and likely have no lodging for us, but he has arranged for something temporary in Giurgiu until something a bit closer can be acquired. He has taken my larger items there ahead of me."
Erik stared at him in disbelief.
"May I at least put my hat and coat in your room while you show me around the grounds?"
Erik shook his head, let out a single, deep laugh, and finally nodded. "I suppose so. But how did you know?"
"From your letter."
"But I said nothing of our struggles in the letter."
"Exactly. It's what you didn't say that led me to the truth of the situation. And I knew I couldn't allow you to deal with this on your own. I am not unaware of how the...these nomadic peoples...are treated. And though I cannot say that I have great fondness for them," he shrugged, "these are mere children who are in need of a home. What kind of a man would I be if I did not do some good works and show myself worthy of Paradise?"
"You can't earn Paradise, Daroga...despite what you believe." Erik smiled a little as the Persian studied him, stone-faced. "But...if ever there was a man who I believe could come close to earning it, it is you, my friend. Thank you...I'm so glad you've come."
The Persian's expression softened then, and he placed his palm against Erik's already extended one, grasping it. "Very well. What are we waiting for?"
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The new facilities went up in half the amount of time that Erik had estimated, fueled no doubt by the power of prayer and by the steady work of hands that had come to assist him. He knew that the daroga was not fond of the Rroma people, and yet he stayed. He had remained for months, working diligently alongside Erik each day. After the first light snowfall, Erik knew that they had no choice but to finish the roof in a matter of days. Darius was laying the floor inside as the other two men worked in haste at the top of the structure.
Father Michel was growing impatient...not that he wasn't grateful for Erik's work. It just seemed that, although the work went rapidly, the weather had not been on their side through the entire endeavor. He prayed fervently for the completion of it so that furniture could be moved in and the children settled into their new dwellings. The orphanage and dormitories had been an ambitious project for Erik, and the priest knew it. It was one thing to draw up plans, but another thing entirely to toil away in the elements every day, and he saw the exhaustion of the men each night.
Christine had taken on a greater role in the care of the infants, and she seemed to enjoy it. Erik often secretly observed her as she sang and rocked them to sleep. Though it gave him joy to see it, he knew that they both desired the same thing...a child of their own. The Sisters quickly came to love Christine and her caring spirit. She was patient, and an extra set of hands and eyes were constantly needed for the young ones. On this day, she watched out the window, beaming with pride as the men worked and conversed with each other...
"Where did you put it?" Erik growled with impatience.
"Put what?"
"My hammer, of course! I lent it to you a moment ago when you misplaced yours!" He leveled a fiery glare at the Persian and stood from his squatting position on the roof. "We have to get this finished, and you are losing things constantly, Daroga!"
The Persian raised an eyebrow at him. "Look down, near your left foot."
Erik's face turned scarlet. "Oh." He stooped down again, without apologizing, and resumed his furious pounding at the roof tiles.
"You're welcome."
Christine shook her head, grinning, as she watched the exchange between the two men. After a moment, she saw Darius emerge from inside the structure and head toward the older building. She walked outside to meet him, carrying a sleeping child in her arms.
"Can I get you something?" She smiled at him, keeping her voice low so as not to wake the baby.
"No, thank you. I just came to tell you...I'm finished."
Her eyes lit up. "You're finished? Oh, that's wonderful news!"
"Yes, and..." He paused for a moment, looking away in thought. "And we are ready to hang draperies and bring in some of the larger furnishings. To whom should I speak about this?"
She smiled. "Follow me."
Darius stayed a few paces behind as Christine turned, leading him inside the building toward the classrooms, where she cracked a door and poked her head inside. After a few seconds, Father Michel emerged.
"Christine? Is everything alright?"
"Of course! Good news! We can begin moving furnishings inside...larger ones...and draperies!" She beamed, and Father Michel's expression took on the same glow as he clapped his hands.
"Praise the Lord! Oh, this is wonderful!" He looked behind her at Darius. "Thank you...I will gather up a few of the older boys and then I will meet you and we will move as much as we can."
Darius nodded and retreated back through the building and outside to the grounds, where the Daroga and Erik were still snapping at each other.
Erik saw him approaching and frowned with annoyance at yet another interruption. "What is it, Darius?"
"Sir," he bowed, "we are ready to move in larger furnishings. Father Michel may need your assistance."
"You're finished? Already? You've completed the flooring?" He wiped the sweat from his brow as he stood, a slow smile spreading across his dusty face. "Well...Daroga, what are we waiting for? Let's get moving."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Two months later...
"I don't want to do it again!"
"You must try. I have been very patient with you up until now, but if you continue to rebel against me, I will stop teaching you. Do you understand?"
A sullen look came over the young boy's face, and he sighed, surrendering to his teacher's will. "Yes."
"Alright then...pick up the violin and play it again, more slowly this time, Luca. I know you hate scales, but...if you do not first learn how to walk, then you will never learn how to run." Erik restrained a grin as the child looked up at him with innocent brown eyes.
"What does running have to do with playing the violin?"
"Just play."
There was a soft rapping at the door as the mild scratching of the bow against the strings began again. After an hour of little else but scales, Erik welcomed the break.
"Just a moment, Luca," he said, resting his hand on the boy's shoulder. He turned slightly toward the door. "Come in."
The door creaked open and Christine poked her head into the room. Her eyes met with Erik's first, then Luca's. She smiled. "Hello, Luca."
"Hello, Madame," he replied in French.
Christine glanced quickly at her husband. "I see you've been teaching him."
"Of course," Erik winked, smiling down at Luca.
The boy looked to his teacher and spoke in a tongue that Christine still did not understand, though she had heard it spoken since they arrived in Romania. Erik laughed and responded briefly. This apparently delighted the boy, as he leaped from his chair, set the violin carefully in its case and rushed from the room with little more than a hurried "goodbye" in French to Christine.
She laughed as the boy brushed past her. "What on earth...?"
"You've no idea how glad he was to see you come," Erik chuckled. "He is most definitely in your debt."
"What are you doing to that poor child?" Christine teased him, drawing nearer and slinking her arms about his waist. He encircled her then with his, placing a lingering kiss upon her head.
"It's good for him. He has talent, but lacks discipline."
"Are you forgetting that I know what a demanding instructor you are?"
"No...but I was much harder on you. You were my star pupil."
"Hmmm." She lifted her chin and met his eyes. "Well, your star pupil has made you lunch. Come with me."
"I don't really want to stop for lunch. I'm sorry."
She drew away from him, annoyed. "But...Luca is gone and I assumed that you would be free for another hour, at least!" She stuck out her lower lip, feigning a pout. "And I took the trouble to make it. What if I brought it here and I could sit with you while you work through lunch?"
"No."
"Why, Erik Durand!" She huffed. "You are being very inconsiderate today!"
"No, I am not," he said, suddenly grasping her arm and pulling her close to him. "I am being selfish. I don't want lunch." He raised an eyebrow, and she blushed.
"Oh. But--"
"Though I do appreciate your trouble."
"Oh, really?" She stifled a smile.
"Hmm...yes. I must find a way to return the favor."
"You, my dear, are incorrigible."
He smiled slyly. "Yes, and persistent, too," he said, moving his face down to hers. "I usually get what I want."
She turned her head away, his kiss landing firmly on her right cheek. She wriggled free of his grasp, making a dash toward the door. "Well...you'll have to catch me first."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
He didn't want to move an inch. His wife lay next to him, sleeping, and he knew it was late in the afternoon by the long shadows cast in their bedroom. Our new bedroom, he thought drowsily to himself, his eyes grazing the updated, yet very modest, furnishings. The curtains were new and untattered, made by Christine from leftover fabric used to make curtains for the children's dormitories. He smiled and hugged her closer to his bare chest, exhaling lightly into her curls. I am so proud of this woman...she has become such an indispensable help to everyone here. He felt a light fluttering near his heart then, and looked down to see her waking.
"Good afternoon, mon amour."
She blinked. "Afternoon? Oh, my goodness! I...I have work to do, Erik! How could you allow me to sleep like this?" She moved away from him and gathered her clothes in haste. "And you! You have lessons, don't you?"
"No, Luca was the last one today."
"Oh. Well...shouldn't you be assisting Father Michel with...some sort of work?"
"Father Michel knows that my wife comes first."
She sighed in exasperation. "Oh, you are impossible! Now everyone will know what we've been doing!"
Erik laughed heartily. "Mon ange, we are married! These things are allowed."
"I'll just tell the Sisters I...had a very sleepless night, and I was exhausted. Something." She struggled to don her corset once again.
"If you lie to them, they will know. You are a terrible liar, mon ange." He slid out from under the covers and crept up behind her, wrapping her small frame in his arms and nuzzling her neck before she could protest. He felt her acquiesce to his touch, and smiled against her skin. "At least, I always know when you are lying. You cannot hide your true feelings from me."
"No," she replied breathlessly, "I don't suppose I can." She turned to face him. "Erik, I..." She paused, biting her lip.
He noticed the hesitation in her, and brought his palms to either side of her face. "What is it?"
Tears began to fill her eyes. "But...I don't want to...I don't know how..."
"Nonsense! Whatever you need to say, you can say it."
"But...I'm afraid...I don't know what you'll do...or feel..."
Erik frowned. "Christine, are you...afraid of me? After all this time? We've been past my episodes of—of...rage for...well, for years now! What on earth could--"
"I'm pregnant." She trembled in his arms and lowered her eyes to the floor.
Erik stood, stunned and devoid of air in his lungs, for several seconds. At last, he reached down and lifted his wife's chin, searching her eyes. "How long have you known?"
"N-not very long," she choked out hoarsely. "But...but I think I am nearly three months along...I just lost track of my monthly...w-with the construction and the school...we had been so busy that I—oh, Erik! I feel so foolish! I've not felt ill at all, and I...suppose I just overlooked it."
His eyes glimmered with the hint of tears as he smiled down at her. "I am so happy, mon ange. You've made me so very, very happy." He tenderly claimed her lips with his own and felt her relax into his embrace. After several moments, she took in a breath and whispered the question that had been gnawing at her mind since she discovered her pregnancy. "Erik...will—will everything be alright this time?"
Erik's heart sank and soared at once. He, too, was thinking of the child they had lost. "Christine...I can only promise you that God is with us, no matter what happens. I love you." He gathered her more tightly into his arms and pressed her cheek to his breast, as she released hot tears against him.
Oh, God, he silently prayed, let this child live. Please, let our baby live.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A/N: If you can find it in your hearts to forgive an author for the great delay, please review! Thank you!