"Mother….mother…" Meg was lightly shaking her mother's shoulder. She reached down, taking the cup and plate from her mother's lap. "Mum…have you been sitting there all night?" Madame Giry shook her head, raising herself out of her groggy sleep. "Is everything alright?" She said, pulling the blanket back up over her shoulders. "Mum, you have sat up all night staring out that window. You must come and lie down on the bed, stretch yourself out, it's not good to be bent all up that way" Meg said, leading her mother to the bed.
Madame Giry reached out and hugged her daughter, before retreating under the covers, allowing Meg to pull them up under her chin. "Meg dear, thank you." Meg sat on the edge of the bed next to her. "Did you see anything…I mean…out the window last night, did you see anyone?" Meg asked with a hopeful hesitation in her voice.
Madame Giry closed her eyes and shook her head. "No, no one…I had so hoped that I would see some evidence, some hope that…" Madame Giry brought her hand up to her mouth, stifling a sob. Meg reached down and took her mother's other hand. "She loves him doesn't she mother…loves the Phantom?" Meg looked down, a bit embarrassed by her question.
Madame Giry swallowed hard, "I believe she does, she would never have chosen to go with him, she could have revealed his true identity, yet she chose not too. One can only assume…the way she looked at him Meg, was how I looked at your father…once one has known true love, you can see it in the eyes of another."
Meg turned her head, "you miss him…my father?" Madame Giry, surprised expression on her face, "yes my dear, I miss him every day, and every night I think of him, the kind gentle man. You have his eyes you know." Madame Giry reached up to caress Meg's cheek. "Not a day goes by that I don't wish him here, but then, he left you here with me, and I can see him in your eyes." Meg smiled, an almost childish smile at her mother.
"Where will they go…I mean if they survived…where will they ever be able to hide?" Meg asked, genuine concern on her face. "Meg, I don't know much about Erik's past, other than he was taken in by a band of gypsies and put on display. Oh how he hated them for their cruelty. I don't know where he came from, or where he would return, if he could. But I do know that he is resourceful, you needn't worry about his ability to take care of her."
Meg looked down, sorrow clouding her eyes. "Will I ever see Christine again?" A tear drew in the corner of Meg's eye. "I do not know now. But I do know that Erik doesn't give up on people he cares about. There are very few of those." Madame Giry seemed lost in thought now as she continued. "Meg, when you were but a little girl, and your father had just died, Erik was concerned for you, and for me. Some mornings I would find small packages or envelopes in my room, tied carefully with a black ribbon. Inside, there would be items that he had crafted with wood, or small poems with pressed flowers. Sometimes he would put currency in them, if he felt that there was something that you or I were in need of. In some ways, he tried to be a father, a helper. I knew then that in spite of all his faults, he had a good heart, and the capacity to love." She smiled, wiping a tear from her eye and turned to face Meg. "When I tried to thank him with notes, he would simply dismiss it, as though he had not been the one to do it. He cared for us Meg, just as he does Christine."
Meg looked at her mother, confusion running through her mind. "They say he was a monster, that he took, he destroyed, he killed….they never gave him a chance to live, to know what it was like to be part of anything real." Meg looked sad now, as she glanced back toward her mother and then down to the floor.
"Meg, I must ask you not to share this knowledge with anyone. It is a precious memory, something that I guard with my heart. It will come to no good for you, or for me. They will think we've gone mad." Meg nodded in understanding.
"Mother, you rest now. If you don't' mind, I think I'll find some breakfast." "You go ahead my dear, I will rest for a little while. Madame Giry stretched a bit and said "you are right…the bed is much more comfortable than that hard wood chair." Meg smiled at her mom as she passed through the door and down the stairs.
XXXX
"Good morning miss, did you have a good night's rest?" The innkeeper greeted Meg, pouring her a cup of steaming coffee, pointing her to a chair at the table. "Yes, thank you. It was so very kind of you to take us in last night." The innkeeper smiled at her, turning back to what she was cooking on the stove.
"It's a right chilly morning out there again this morning, the streets still smell of the stench of all that burnt wood." Meg looked out the window, seeing just faint traces of smoke coming out of the windows of the only real home she had ever known.
"My name's Sara." The woman smiled at Meg, setting a large plate of fried potatoes, eggs, and toast in front of her. "Thank you Sara…it is alright that I call you by your first name?" Meg stammered. "Yes, I prefer it." The woman smiled back at Meg. "Has your mother rested? I heard her come down the stairs a few hours ago, I figured she hadn't yet slept."
"No, I'm afraid she couldn't bring herself to bed. She sat up just staring out the window." Meg put her napkin on her lap, lowered her head. Looking back up at the woman. She gratefully slid her fork into the eggs taking her first bite. It had been breakfast yesterday since she'd eaten last, and her stomach had long since stopped growling. The velvety feel of the eggs on her tongue was wonderful. Meg blew slightly on her coffee before taking her first sip. It was strong and hot, filling her with a warm feeling all over. Sara sat watching Meg eat her breakfast in silence.
"Sara, it's curious that there aren't many others at your inn this morning, what with the fire and all" Meg said looking up at Sara.
Sara busied herself in the kitchen, replying, "It's an odd thing really. Nearly a week ago, I received this letter, asking to reserve the inn for a week, starting last night. It was specific that they wanted all of the rooms for privacy reasons. No name or anything, just the letter and payment in full. The note said that the guests may or may not be arriving, but I was to hold the rooms open even if they wouldn't be occupied."
Meg stopped eating. "What?" "The letter said that the guests would be obvious and I should be looking out the window watching for them, and invite them in because they might not be aware they were to be my guests."
Meg looked pale now, she put down her fork. "That's why I invited you in last night. I'd sat watching out the window waiting for these guests to arrive, but then I saw you and your mother standing there, and I realized, that you must've been them…..so I invited you in. Turns out I must've been right, since no one else ever arrived."
Meg could barely breathe. "Where did this letter come from?" Meg asked. "I don't know really, it just appeared here one day last week. I opened my door for the morning and it was tucked inside so it fell right at my feet." The woman said, looking down at her shoes.
"Do you still have it?" Meg asked, with great curiousness. "Yes, maam, I do." The woman rose and went over to a drawer in her cupboard, pulling a small white envelope from it. She walked over to Meg and handed it to her. Meg flipped it back and forth in her hands. There was no writing or markings of any kind on it, save the bent corner where it had been lodged in the door.
"Oh, I almost forgot." The woman made her way back to the drawer, pulling a small object from it. She walked back to the table and laid it down. "This was tied around it. Pretty fancy for just a letter." Meg looked down, there on the table next to the envelope, was a small black silk ribbon. "Mother had been right….he does care." Meg said under her breath.
"What was that?" Sara asked. "Nothing, I agree, it is odd indeed. May I have this envelope and ribbon?" Meg asked, starting to pull her chair from under her. Sara stood up, "why yes, not much good to me, may I ask why?" "Meg said…no reason, I just hope to someday discover who might have been so generous, and thank him personally, that is all." Meg was standing now.
"Miss, you've hardly eaten any of your breakfast." Sara said as Meg moved toward the stairs. "Oh, do you mind terribly if I take it upstairs with me? I'd like to offer some to my mother if she is awake." "No, that's no trouble, but your mum can certainly come down for a hot breakfast herself if she likes."
Meg took her plate and cup, thanking Sara, walked back to the stairs. Envelope and ribbon under her arm. "This is most delicious, I'm sure she will like it." Meg smiled and disappeared up the stairs. Sara walked back to the counter, taking her dishes to the sink. "Odd things happen in this city every day, but this is by far the oddest." She thought to herself.
"Mother?" Meg nudged her mother, but she was sound asleep. Walking over to the chair by the window, she sat her plate and cup on the nightstand. She looked down at the envelope and ribbon. Putting the envelope down she started running the satin ribbon through her fingers.
"How had he known what would come to pass?" Meg smiled a little, even in the wake of this disaster, not knowing any of the details, or what would happen next. He had cared for her mother…and for her. It made the possible loss even greater to bear. She closed her eyes and said a little prayer.. "Lord, keep them safe…wherever they might be." She opened her eyes again, looking over at her sleeping mother. She turned her attention back to her breakfast, thankful from the next warm bite, to have one.