Decisions and the Second Departure
My stomach seems to grow overnight. There is no denying my condition now. The large bump pushes away all doubts I have had. It also brings on a new set of problems. I am always hungry, and I find that when I am not eating, I am extremely irritable. It is different for me; I have never had a huge appetite before. I also find that when I am not sitting down, I am bumping into things or knocking objects over. My back aches. And so I sit and eat most days. None of the meals are very elegant, but I take everything Erik gives me without complaint or criticism.
Whenever Erik vanishes on a mysterious trip for the day, I spend it with my brother. He has been deemed strong enough to fire a pistol, and so we are mostly left alone (although I know that Nadir Khan stands just outside the door for precautionary reasons). Taurin is able to stand and walk slowly now. He hobbles to a chair next to mine, a hand over his bullet wound. With a sigh, he sits down.
"Is there anything I can do for you?" I ask, taking in his closed eyes with some alarm. He shakes his head slowly and says, "I simply need to be out of that bed for a few hours."
A few minutes pass in a contemplative silence, and I debate within myself for those few minutes. But the lonely side wins, and so I lean closer to him and say,
"Taurin, may I speak with you about something?"
His dark eyes open, and he looks at me before nodding. "What is it?"
I suddenly feel very foolish and hesitate for a few moments. "It's…well, I – perhaps it isn't so important after all."
"Everything you think is important, Christine," he says, his voice surprisingly gentle and kind. Perhaps he doesn't really mean what he says, but I somehow cannot let myself believe that.
"Taurin," I finally begin, "I am several months along – "
"Obviously," he laughs.
I smile to humor him and continue, "And…Erik hasn't said anything about it – not once. It is as if the baby doesn't exist, as if it won't change our lives."
He is quiet for just a moment and then says confidently, "You must think that he hasn't thought about this at all, Christine, but you must believe me when I say that he has. I have known him much, much longer than you. He simply isn't one to share his ideas with anyone. He knows what he is doing."
And this comment seems to settle any doubts that Taurin had. I, however, am still not fully convinced. The moment to speak with Erik alone does not come until later that night. I need to bathe, and we both undergo the few awkward minutes while I undress nervously and slide into the tub, watching his back fiercely. It takes me a few minutes to relax enough to ask him what has been plaguing me. I do not have enough courage to jump right into the subject, and so I stall by saying, a slightly trembling voice,
"Taurin is feeling much better. I spoke to him, and he says that he does not like to be locked in the bedroom all day."
Erik does not answer. After a few minutes of silence, I ask, once again hating the way my voice sounds frightened and shaking,
"Erik? May I speak with you about something?"
"Hmm?" he responds, his voice light and disinterested. "Yes, what is it?"
"I – well, Erik, it's about…about the baby." My heart seems to stop for a moment as I wait for his answer. He says, still in the same impersonal voice,
"What about it?"
For a few seconds, I cannot help but sit with my mouth open, disbelieving. And suddenly I snap, "Don't turn around. I'm getting out." Savagely, I grab a towel and dress, yanking on the now-familiar men's clothing, hate and anger and hopelessness welling inside of my chest. I storm out of the room without waiting for Erik, my cheeks flushed. My growling stomach pulls me to the kitchen, and I pull anything I see toward me, slamming a plate down and throwing everything on it. Erik walks in a few moments later, the epitome of quiescence, and leans against the doorjamb, watching me.
"You moved surprisingly quickly, given your condition," he says lightly. I can tell he is pleased with his own joke, but it does nothing to amuse me.
"What condition?" I snap. "According to you, nothing is different with me!" I open a cupboard and reach for something on the top shelf. It is impossibly high for me to grab, yet I still stretch for it. It seems so important that I get that…
Erik moves silently behind me and picks it up effortlessly. He offers it to me without a word, but I shove it away and snarl, "I was getting that myself! You think that I must be helped along and watched all the time, but I am capable of things! I just – " A sob suddenly escapes, and I turn around, sitting in a nearby chair. "I'm so tired," I say. "I ache everywhere, and I don't know what's going to happen."
"Nobody else does, either," says Erik.
"No – that isn't what I mean," I say, staring at my hands. "I need to know what your plan is for the baby. You seem as if you simply don't even know that I am expecting. Are you…are you even happy about it?"
There is a heavy moment of silence. "Perhaps it will take some time to become used to the idea," he finally says.
"You have had months!" I say, turning to look at him. "How much longer do you need? I can't bear to be alone in this. I need to know that you will help me with this. You need to be here!"
"Have you forgotten how I was raised?" he snarls, his manner suddenly harsh and irritable. "Have you forgotten this?" He suddenly takes off his mask, and I shudder and turn away involuntarily. His hand, cold and bony, seizes my shoulder and steals my warmth. "Can you imagine how the idea of a child – my child – terrifies me?"
His hand is suddenly gone, and he stops himself abruptly. I do not think he intended to ask me his last question. There is a long moment of silence, and he finally sighs.
"Come with me. There are things I must attend to."
I sit in the small parlor for the rest of the afternoon while he speaks with several men. They never speak loudly enough for me to catch the entire conversation, so my attention drifts. For the first time, I wonder over names of the baby and whether I wish for a boy or a girl. I envision a little girl, her dark hair curly, her eyes bright and her cheeks pink. But then I picture a little boy who somehow resembles Taurin with the look of mischief in his sparkling eyes. I cannot decide which one I adore more, and I put a hand on my stomach as if the baby will tell me all I wish to know.
Late that night, I doze as Erik writes a letter. He will not tell me the subject or for whom it is, but I am content to watch him, shadowed deeply by the candlelight. The bed is warm and comfortable, and I feel myself slipping away into sleep.
"Erik," I say, my voice heavy with tiredness.
The scratching of the pen stops, and he looks at me. "Yes?"
"I'm afraid, too," I whisper, closing my eyes. He doesn't respond.
----
A creak echoes around the room, and it wakes me suddenly. I sit up, peering at the gloom, and recognize the tall frame.
"Erik?" I whisper. He approaches the bed. "What time – "
His fingers come to my lips, and I silence myself, feeling his long fingers press down. He then takes my shoulder and pulls me out of the bed. We exit the room, but not before he grabs the small coat and boots that I wear. After closing the door, he says quietly,
"Put your shoes on, quickly."
As I do so (I am forced to sit down to pull on the boots), I say, my own voice soft, "Where are we going?"
He waits until I have finished with my shoes and pulls me up, helping me into the coat. "They are coming tonight. I will not be surprised if they are on this very street – Hush!" I was beginning to say something, but his tone silences me. "We have enough time to quietly take you out of the house and away from the city." He takes my hand and leads me down the hallway, toward the larger bedroom.
"No one else can come with us?" I say.
He shakes his head. "There is no time, and we cannot risk you being followed."
"How many are coming?" I have grown too much to misunderstand the severity of the moment, and the fact that Erik is silent for a moment reassures any hopeful doubts I have.
"Enough," is his only comment. "I am only grateful we were forewarned." We reach the back doorway. Erik knocks on the door of the bedroom, and Nadir Khan emerges, swathed in black. The men look at each other for a moment.
"Are you ready?" Erik asks, and Khan nods. "We can only be thankful that I followed Claude's advice. We shall see what happens." Khan goes outside, but the door remains slightly open, as if waiting for someone.
My heart suddenly disappears, and my mouth becomes dry as I look at Erik. "What?" I say, my voice becoming shrill and panicky. "What – Erik – what are you talking about? You are taking me! You! Where is Taurin? You cannot stay – " He quickly puts a hand over my mouth, and I twist away.
"Christine, silence!" he hisses. "Stop, Christine! There is no time. Khan is taking you far away from here where you will be safe. No – listen!" He pulls me toward him and wraps his arms around me to stop my movement. His mouth is close to my ear as he says, "We have worked too hard for this, Christine. It was inevitable. We can only hope that something good will come out of tonight." I am aware of the tears that run down my cheeks. "You must not be seen, and you must not be caught. If you do, there isn't a possibility of getting you back."
"Why does he take me?" I sniff childishly. His restricting hold has turned into some kind of embrace, and I clutch him longingly. "Why can it not be you or Taurin? Taurin is hurt; he can't stay!"
At this, he pulls back, and I see a facetious smile on his face. "You know as well as I do that he is well...enough, and he would not leave even if I told him. Now." He opens the door wider. "It is time for you to go. Do not look back. Do not come back."
"Wait – " His touch is finally taken away, and I hold onto the door. "Erik! Erik – please – kiss me."
I am surprised – he does. I had expected him to say something like, There is no time, or perhaps he would not do anything at all, merely return inside; but he does, and the surprise of it adds to the kiss. It is desperate, manic in its longing to convey every emotion. There is a sudden crash that comes from the house, and he pulls away quickly, leaving me breathless and slightly disoriented for a moment. Then the door shuts. I stand, blinking stupidly, before Khan touches my shoulder.
"It is time to go," he says. I nod distractedly, staring at the door. None-too-gently, he takes my arm and pulls me away, and soon we are hurrying through the final streets of the city, toward the fields. Across the fields is the forest, dark and menacing in the blackness. I am not fast. My stomach makes it impossible, but I push myself and try to keep up with Khan.
"We are almost out of the city," he whispers, panting slightly as we stop for a moment. But his panting is not the only sound. There is the loud clattering of hoofs, and we both hold our breath. Khan has gone very still, and he whispers something under his breath. We begin to move again, but faster, and he speaks as we hurry.
"If anything happens to me, get to the forest. Go straight through until you find the little brook. Do you understand? Head East – the way that the stream goes. Follow it until you find the rocks. Can you do that?"
"Yes," I gasp, saying nothing more to save breath. The horses are getting closer. There is no way to outrun them. We have just reached the outside of the city when Khan turns around, pulling me behind him. He yanks a pistol out of his belt and –
CRACK!
The sound rips into my ear, and I hear the squeal of a horse.
"Go!" Khan yells at me, and I turn, Khan following behind. There is a moment of crazed silence, and then,
CRACK!
I scream as I plunge to the ground. Khan has fallen, and his heavy body trips my legs. For a frantic minute, I pull on his shoulder, whispering urgently, "Get up! Get up!" It is then that I notice my hand is wet and a metallic smell taints the air. Squinting through the darkness, I see that his eyes are closed. He is not moving. I struggle for a few precious seconds staggering to my feet, and in those moments the remaining horse and rider have come up behind me. Someone grabs me before I am able to run, and I scream hysterically while someone yells my name.
"Christine! Oh my – Christine! Stop, it's me!"
I turn around and look through the darkness to see Raoul's face, considerably older-looking and thinner than ever before. But at this moment, his features are softened, and he pulls me toward him.
"Christine, I can't believe I've finally found you – months and months of searching, and you're here! What has happened to you? And you – you're…" He puts a hand on my stomach, more gently than I expected. "We have time to talk, but it is not now. Come with me."
He walks over to the horse, but I stand, staring at the body on the ground. He was killed as if he did not matter, as if he did not have people who cared about him and waited for him to return. We would never reach the brook or the rocks in the east. He protected me with his own body, and now he is dead.
"Christine?" I push off Raoul's hand that rests on my shoulder, staring at the body.
"You killed him," I say, my voice a whisper.
Raoul is silent for a moment. "I had to."
"He was your friend." He was my friend.
"He was a terrorist and a traitor. Come, Christine. We cannot stay here."
But I still stay rooted to the ground, my gaze drifting up to the big mass of forest that looms before me. Do not be caught. I have failed…again. After all of my exertions, I have failed.
"Christine – get on the horse." His tone leaves no room for contradiction or argument, so I allow him to help me clamber onto the horse, groaning slightly as the ache in my stomach lurches.
Raoul jumps up behind me. He kicks the horse, and we clatter back into the city. Perhaps I should cry, but I have shed too many tears to learn that they do little, and so I hold them back. The rough jostling of the horse hurts my stomach, and I hiss slightly as the horse clambers its way up a hill. I can see the mansion, and my heart drops. I close my eyes, wishing it would disappear, but, when I open them, we have arrived at the front doors. Two men dressed in black come running out, and they take the horse away as soon as I clumsily slide off its back. Raoul hurries me inside. Although the mansion is warm, I have never felt so cold. Finally, when we are in my old lavish bedroom upstairs, he turns around and sighs, a smile coming to his face. He comes close to me – much closer than I thought he would – and he places his hands on my stomach.
"He feels strong." His breath stirs the hair around my face, and I say nothing. "How much longer?" he asks.
"Only a few months," I finally say, my voice quiet. His smile nearly breaks me, and he suddenly wraps his arms around me, his body warm. He steps back, still glancing at my belly every now and then, as if to remind himself that it is really there.
"You need something to wear," he says, eyeing my clothing with disgust and a slight trace of amusement. "All of your clothes are still where they were, though the maternity dresses will be moved in at once. We keep them here no matter what, and so I will have someone bring them to you. But I am sure you would like a nightgown and a chance to sleep. I wish I could speak to you tonight, but I must leave and make sure that everything has gone according to plan. Make sure to get some sleep. We will speak in the morning."
He leaves, and before I can think, a few women in black enter, their arms laden with clothing. They switch out the closet quickly, mumble words that mean nothing, and leave. For the first time in months, I am left completely alone. And I know that it will be spent awake.