Chapter 135 The Promise of a New Day

Madeline shook her head as she came into the parlor. DeChagny and Nadir had nearly emptied the bottle of brandy and made considerable headway in Raoul's humidor. It was certainly not her place to judge, nor was she. Though she was of a less amiable disposition over their behavior of the night previous. In their ardor, they had all but entirely defeated Raoul's purpose for requesting the remainder of the household servants to finish up the dishes sending her off to retire in her quarters early. Nadir and DeChagny had roiled themselves into hysterics on several occasions during their discourse, keeping Madeline from sleeping soundly; her room not being far off from the parlor.

She quickly tidied up the parlor returning once more to the kitchen. She'd a number of delicate la patisserie in the oven she'd return to. She rather preferred having ladies in the house. Raoul required so few delicacies, preferring the dense tortes and thick cooked puddings. Madame Giry and Meg on the other hand, enjoyed some of the finer things. Lace cookies, biscotti, delicate crepes, airy meringues. It pleased her to no end to see them enjoying such things. Today she'd make a soufflé le fromage for them when they rose. She'd no need to think of pleasing DeChagny nor Nadir, for certainly they'd be in no condition to join them for breakfast. She knew Raoul would be pleased with whatever she served as long as it pleased his guests. In this, and so many other ways, he was a true host. His mother would have been proud, Madeline thought as she made her way back to the kitchen.

XXXX

Outside Raoul's household was very busy indeed. They'd been clearing snow all evening long in an attempt to stay ahead of the storm. They'd quite a wide path now from the house to the stables, and had begun working on another area for the animals. The task had been long and tedious, with the snow as high as any of them could remember in their lifetime.

The air wasn't yet warm, though their toils kept them from having a chill. They were thankful the winds had died down. There was little else to do now but wait until it began to melt. They'd temporarily forgotten about the pine box that lay at the other end of their stables. Any that had been logical, would have grasped by now, their superstitions had proven to be folly. Save the storm that none could have predicted, none of their household had lost their lives, nor any animals, nor structures. In all they were very fortunate indeed.

They'd found and properly tended to the sleigh. They'd be ready should Raoul request its use. Word had already spread through the staff that his father had made mention of it the night previous. No doubt he'd have his way if the weather permitted.

XXXXXX

Pyotr and Sebastian lay with their heads down on the grain of the table. They'd fallen asleep somewhere between the pitchers of ale, and their early breakfast. Sheets of filled parchment lay here and there in the room, the door securely bolted lest anyone wander in and find them unaware.

They'd written a number of letters of delay that they'd send by messenger to their le concierge in Paris, he'd see to distributing them. They'd not have much time to reorganize once the snow cleared. Business was business, and it could not wait much longer. They'd devised and discarded numerous plots to encourage the family to move on, but in the end they'd abandoned every one. If this man was as he appeared, they'd do nothing but anchor him to his house if he'd even a hint of trouble.

Once the snow cleared, they'd dispatch the courier. Then they'd tend to the old farm house. Making room, and yet preserving the look of it being abandoned. Much to do, much to do. "No rest for the wicked," they'd chided one another in their drunken stupor.

XXXXXX

Madame Giry closed the door behind Madeline. She'd come to deliver a pot of Earl Grey and a fresh plate of anisette biscotti, dipped in grated nutmeg and ground hazelnuts. Madame Giry smiled as she retreated once more to the window seat.

The book lay abandoned on the cushion as she poured her first cup. The rising of the sun happened so quickly if one wasn't watching it. But when one had opportunity to do so from when the first shafts of light herald its coming, they could revel in its mystery, the glory of the birth of a new day. It was a miracle, that every day millions took for granted. It was a constant, a given. But to observe it, to drink it in as it quietly enters, shattering the hours of darkness that had come before it, was like witnessing the promise of God that a new day was beginning; an open invitation to make the best of it.

She smiled as she sipped the tea from her cup. The biscotti was a perfect blend of tender and crisp, nearly melting in her mouth. She'd had many baked goods in her lifetime, but there was something different about those she'd had as a guest in Raoul's home. Affluence provided opportunity for many things that the proletariat did not have privilege to partake of. The finest of ingredients, staff trained in the art of perfecting them...it was a pleasure she had come to appreciate, though she'd not allow herself to become desensitized to it. For once something became too familiar, the truest enjoyment and appreciation was lost. She knew for her, this was simply a brief reprieve from her normal life. Soon she would return to the Opera House, eating her portions in the dormitories. There the food was wholesome, adequate, but little more. She'd regard this time spent in Raoul's company as a retreat, to be enjoyed fully, and appreciated entirely from beginning to end.

As she poured a second cup of tea, and took the book once again in hand, she leaned her head against the polished wooden frame of the window. The day would be a peaceful one. The sky held promise of being blue, and with the sun rising, there was hope that all would be restored. She'd decided to spend the morning reading until someone retrieved her. She'd no want to hasten it, nor any of those who most decidedly needed the rest. Dear, sweet, Nadir. She smiled, glancing down at the note she'd written him. Maybe one day...maybe one day they'd find themselves in different circumstances.

XXXX

Christine woke, having been roused by a rather loud thud. She sat up rubbing at her eyes, glancing toward where she'd believed the noise to have come from. Misty glanced at her apologetically.

"Sorry mum, I knew the fire would be diminished by now, I'll just finish here, and be on my way." She glanced back at Christine and then returned to her task. "I do beg of you to forgive my clumsiness, to have woken you."

Christine started to stretch. She still felt tender from knee to breastbone. She'd never changed from the garments of Erik's that she'd worn the day before. She'd need to dress, she knew, though she'd have been content to stay in them until Erik returned to reclaim what was his.

"Do not let that cause you distress, do not worry. I was warm enough. Thank you." Christine sat on the edge of the bed as she watched Misty stacking the logs in the fire. She scowled just slightly as she watched. She could hear her father's voice in her head. "Cross it over to build a little house for the fire to live."

She slipped from the bed. No doubt of the many talents Misty possessed, stoking a fire had been one she'd not been properly instructed on. "Here, let me, I'd be happy to show you." She knelt next to Misty, taking the two smaller logs from her hand, and using the poker to reposition the others. "First this one, then that one in the back, then this one there, and last," she hoisted the final one in smiling at Misty.

The young girl smiled at Christine. "Mum, if you shan't mind my inquiring, where did you learn to do such a thing?"

Christine cocked her head off to the side in wonder, then quickly realized that neither Misty nor any of the others would have any knowledge of Christine's lineage, her past, or what circumstances she'd been in before coming to marry their master. She thought quickly. She'd no idea what Erik would have wanted, but decided to improvise. "A woman can never have too many talents can she?" The statement made Misty laugh, relaxing the tension just a bit.

The two stood looking at the fire as it began to take. Misty turned to Christine, "shall I draw you a bath mum?"

Christine stretched, then covered her mouth as she yawned. "Yes, I think that would be entirely lovely." Christine blushed as she heard her stomach growl.

Misty smiled. "Perhaps I'll see to some tea and a bit of breakfast for you first?" Christine smiled, "it seems that would be a good idea."

She glanced over at the little table over by the window. "If you'd not mind, I should like to take my tea here just this morning."

Misty nodded, "as you wish." The girl disappeared out of the door, and down the hall.

Christine strode over to the window seat, pulling Erik's robe up tightly around her. He'd be coming home today, victorious or no, and she would wait with eager anticipation as a child does at a window for their parents arrival. She'd run out into the snow on bare feet if she'd the need to. She simply wanted to feel his breath on her skin, the sound of his voice crooning in her ear, the touch of his hand on her shoulder. She missed him as lungs miss oxygen.

XXXX

Meg woke to find herself nestled neatly in her bed, pillows and blankets carefully tucked about her sides. She have thought she'd imagined that Raoul had stayed with her all the night, but she could see his boots discarded at the end of the divan in front of the fire.

She'd not remembered moving to the bed, in fact the last she'd remembered she was laying in Raoul's arms as he stroked her hair while they'd talked into the wee hours of the morning. She could not see him from her vantage point, reclined as she was. She was about to call out to him when the door to her room opened. Meg lay back down, feigning sleep.

Raoul was talking to someone, and it took but a moment to realize it must have been Madeline. "Do draw her a bath, but do not wake her unless she's not risen by nine, then do so gently won't you. Then do bring up a pot of that tea that she likes, and perhaps some of whatever it is that is the source of that glorious fragrance this morning." He strode with her to the wardrobe, going in.

Meg had to strain to hear, but she listened with careful attention.

"She rather fancies this lavender, though that shan't be warm enough for her today. Yes, that persimmon dress, it does have an accompanying...yes, yes, that shall do nicely. I want her to be warm, comfortable. Now, after our lunch, she shall have need for this, and perhaps, yes, this as well. Have those readied for her won't you?"

Meg had no idea what additional items, and in such quantity she'd be in need of. She smiled though, he had noted that she fancied the lavender dress, and also the persimmon. It was lovely, layered, long sleeves, very tastefully embellished. Meg closed her eyes again as she heard them retreat from the wardrobe. She pressed her eyes tightly as she heard what she knew were Raoul's footsteps, she'd begun to recognize them, especially how they sounded in her room.

He walked over to the side of the bed, leaning down and placing a tender kiss on her forehead. Madeline stood some feet away, awaiting his further instruction. "Maddie, do come here," Raoul whispered. Meg could hear as Madeline hesitantly came to Raoul's side. "Look just there," Raoul must have been pointing at something though Meg couldn't tell what it might have been. "Yes, it looks so much better this morning, you'd almost not be able to tell if it weren't for the thread and what looks like a scratch would you?"

Meg could hear Madeline inhale, "sir, pretty as bud of rose, sweet, sweet mademoiselle."

Meg felt Raoul brush another gentle kiss on her cheek before they moved to the door. "You'll see to all of it then?" Meg heard Raoul say to Madeline as he closed the door.

Meg glanced over at the small clock that lay on the table beside her bed. It was barely seven thirty. She'd not need to rise for another hour. She laid back down, just looking around the room. There were more fine things in this one room than she'd ever owned in her lifetime, nor had ever hoped to have in her wildest dreams. It still overwhelmed her that she was there, in Raoul's house, in this room, her mother in his house, Nadir...all of it...Six months ago she was but a unassuming chorus girl, and now...and now...She shook her head. She couldn't have imagined all that would happen if she had tried to.

She closed her eyes. She wondered what Christine would be doing at this very moment. If she was happily in Erik's arms at the winter house. What on earth would she have to fill her days? Really one could only read for so long before your eyes and mind grow weary. Regardless of what it was Christine filled her days with, Meg wished her only the highest degree of happiness, and hoped that one day soon that they'd be able to visit in person.

She yawned and stretched, sliding her limbs along the satin sheets. She raised her hand to her face, running her fingers lightly over the stitches. She'd become used to them in the few short days she'd had them. She'd been scrupulous about washing it carefully, and putting on the salve the doctor had given her. She was curious to look at it if Madeline and Raoul had noticed a change, she'd want to have a look.

Her curiosity had gotten the best of her. She simply had to know what it was that Raoul had wanted readied for her for after lunch. Meg slid ever-so-quietly from beneath the sheets and padded over to the closet door. Upon opening it she looked inside. She walked in a few steps, her mouth gaping.

There, on the divan in the center of the room was a long white fur coat, matching muff and fedora. Were they going somewhere? But in this weather, where pray tell? Meg thought she heard something in the hallway. Quickly scampering back to the bed, leaping beneath the sheets, pulling the covers up round her chin.

Madeline came in quietly carrying several large bath sheets, a basket of soaps and salts and made her way over to the water closet. Meg lay listening as Madeline began to fill the bath for her. She wandered back to the wardrobe retrieving a robe, and a pair of bedroom slippers. She went out closing the door behind her. That had been far too close. Perhaps she'd simply stay in bed until Madeline retrieved her.

XXXXXXX

Erik had stood watch, only letting the doctor passed when he approached to check on his patients. He'd only nodded at Erik. An examination was not necessary, he could tell by Erik's repose that he was doing quite well.

He had gone to the old woman, confirming for her daughter what they already knew. Erik had offered to be the one to take her by sleigh to the undertaker, but he'd been quickly discouraged. He had already risked enough, and was not himself yet entirely well. For now, the doctor would do what preparations he could do. As day broke and the weather held, they'd dispatch their stable hands to finish the task.

Erik watched carefully as Nicole led her mother up the stairs to some much needed privacy and rest. There was little to be done now, save what the doctor needed to do. Erik watched as the doctor and innkeeper loaded her onto a stretcher, covered her with blankets and took her out the door to the stables. Though he'd be tidy, the doctor had no want to do what he needed in the room so many took their dinner in. The stable was not inhospitable, quite actually the opposite, there were homes that were not as well appointed as the stables, perhaps that is why it was a preferred board for their horses when they were in Chauesser.

As they passed with the woman, Erik watched. Again his memory flashed. He'd never taken care of the disposal of a body that no longer had life, aside from Sara. The others that he'd bore witness to, were left for example or by request…he'd not had to deal with anything other than bringing them to their pointed end. He shuddered. Oh it was a welcome change to be among the living who had so much different a respect for human value…for the value of life. Those he'd encountered in Persia, those nefarious souls…were dead already, though they still had breath.

It wasn't until Erik was once again alone in the room that his attentions turned to himself. He sat down sighing. He'd need to find his clothes. He'd almost forgotten that it was a simple sheet that adorned his shoulders, and not the cape he was accustomed to donning. He looked around, and save his boots that rested at the end of the make-shift bed he'd occupied, he saw nothing. No cloak, nor clothing was in sight.

He stopped the first employ he'd seen requesting assistance, but she did not know. Erik sat back down, a bit irritated. He'd hoped the sled driver was still about, not having returned home himself. That would only further delay Erik's departure. Erik's irritation grew the longer he sat. Patience was a foreign animal to him, though he'd been trying to perfect it. He wanted nothing more now than to dress and return to Christine.

He stood, surely someone had to know where his belongings were. He began peeking his head inside of doors toward the back of the tavern. He'd found the root cellar, the silver closet, the pantry. It was not until he'd come to the last closed door that he had any hope at finding what he saught. Just as he touched the handle he heard a scuffle just beyond the door.

Erik startled the poor girl, she reeled back nearly toppling over the baskets behind her. "I'd not meant to give you a fright mademoiselle, I'm but looking for my garments." Erik said in a rather apologetic tone.

The girl was blushing heavily. She stammered, "No, no, sir…it's no trouble at all sir…" the girl averted her eyes. Erik's current garb, a singular sheet, wrapped about his shoulders, and a pair of oversized pants did not well conceal his masculine frame.

The last time she'd laid eyes on him, she'd caused herself much embarrassment. Talking to his young wife of his handsomeness at the mercantile. She and the collection of girls had spoken of him every day since first they'd seen him. Christine was as beautiful as she was pleasant, making it an easy match for them in their minds. Now, here he stood before her, in less than proper attire, and she nearly could not utter so much as one syllable. For there was quite simply something about him that nearly demanded silent awe.

Erik looked at her oddly, then down at himself. He couldn't imagine that he'd frightened her so intensely that she'd not even give him the courtesy of looking at him when he spoke to her. Surely she'd seen men in their night garb many a time, working at an inn as she did.

In truth, she couldn't look at him, he was someone else's husband. And her thoughts quite easily would betray her most scrupulous intentions.

"Mademoiselle?" Erik was a bit perturbed.

The girl scampered to the back of the room and disappeared behind yet another door with nary a reply. Erik could hear her speaking to someone whom he could not see. He was trying to be patient, but the longer they tarried, the more ill at ease he became. He'd considered heavily retreating to the outer rooms and simply waiting for the innkeeper to return.

Suddenly a woman came through the door, a bundle in her arms. She was a much older woman, likely enough so that she could have been the young girl's mother. "Here sir, we'd been asked to look after cleaning and drying them for you." She handed him a stack of still-warm garments. Erik took them thanking the woman. He turned to leave the room. She called out to him.

"Sir, I am sorry. The woman was a nuisance. Now to have lost her after such an altruistic feat." The woman stood shaking her head.

Erik stood looking at her in sheer horror. He'd not been addressed in this manner before. Inside he was seething…is that all this entire city thought of the old woman? He felt protective, defensive. The origin of those emotions for her were a mystery even to him as he stood there listening to this woman's chatterings.

"I should say you're something of a hero just for finding her, bringing her back to dear Nicole. She loved that woman greatly sir, you shan't know what this must have meant to that dear girl."

Erik cringed, he swallowed hard…that word…he hoped he'd not hear it again. He turned around. If only they knew…he was no one's hero. "Madame, if you'd permit me to speak freely.." she nodded, he continued. "This title you so flippantly allow to roll off your tongue…I am not worthy of. Hero is not a word I find befitting one who did only what one must do, what should be done. No…hero I am not. It is of little matter now, they've lost the woman to the depths, my contribution in bringing her this far was nothing more than anyone could have done. No, hero I am not, and it would be much to my pleasure if you'd not use that word again in my regard."

The woman looked horrified. She'd meant to compliment…thank him…she'd no thought that it would offend him. She simply nodded, lowering her head as he left the room.

The girl peeked her head from behind the door. "Mother?" She joined her mother folding clothes in the baskets on the floor.

"It seems our new young lothario is as humble as he is handsome." Her mother reached out tapping her daughter on her nose. "Now, we've much to do. No doubt all shall come looking for their garments."

Erik's heart was racing, his head was pounding. All he had on his mind now was dressing and leaving as soon as arrangements could be made.

He made his way back down the hall in a fervor, ducking into the first room that he found with the door ajar. He'd landed himself in the pantry. With the door shut, the room was dark, which suited him. He'd dressed so many times in the blackness of the lair, of Persia.

He'd no need to close his eyes, he could feel it, the memory creeping back in as he dressed with ease, hurriedly as one does as if preparing for flight from danger. It was a few minutes only before Erik had reaffixed his garments, his cloak draped over his arm. The clothing was a welcome warmth to his skin, they'd still been warm when she'd given them to him, no doubt having just come from the drying heat of the hearth.

Erik pulled the door open only to find the same girl just coming to the very door he was opening. Her hands flew up to her mouth and she turned around running back down the hall, disappearing into the room once more.

Instinctively Erik's hand flew up to his face, covering the right side…his respiration rising rapidly. He'd not thought of his face in a number of days, perhaps weeks now, and the trepidation on the girl's face reminded him of that horror. The words of the doctor sounding in his brain…. "keep it covered Erik, keep it dry, the skin is new, it needs to be treated with care." He'd done nothing but the opposite of this since he'd left home yesterday….

He was filled with an intense sense of urgency to find a looking glass, but where? He felt lightheaded…his chest ached causing him to cough, a deep, raspy sound coming from his lungs.

Erik pushed his way down the hallway feeling as though he were an animal trapped in a slaughterhouse labyrinth. His need, nay, his desperation grew… he needed to get away, get out, escape. He quickly found himself in the room where their beds had been. Someone in that short time had come and restored the room to its original arrangement. They'd be preparing soon for breakfast for those at the inn.

Erik's eyes hungrily scanned the walls. Then he spotted it, on the wall near the entrance. He made his way quickly to the glassy surface of the mirror that hung, beckoning him to allow it to reveal the truths that it held in its precarious balance.

He stood before it, holding his breath, eyes closed. This was likely to be as difficult as the first time he'd gazed on his altered flesh back at Courtland Manor, and suddenly he wished Christine was at his side, holding his hand, kissing him, reassuring him that she loved him no matter what came to pass.

He exhaled, moving the hand that covered his cheek. He inhaled, slowly opening his eyes, raising his chin, blinking once more before his eyes gazed upon his flesh. His heart raced…it wasn't what he'd expected, and inside his heart pounded.

Author's Notes:

Captainoblivious: Yes, a long weekend is wonderful. I hope to have one of those in a few weeks…oh who am I kidding…work never allows for it! Yes, our dear Erik. It seems just when he is about to get something that he needs, it is taken from him. But sometimes, we don't understand why things are delayed, put off, taken from us….it is not until much, much, later, that we see that things turned out the way they should have, and each thing that happened along the way had to happen, or we wouldn't have found ourselves in the place we needed to be in the end. Sort of convoluted I know, but I think you get the idea. Even the bad things that happen along the way, are all pieces in the puzzle that make up the fabric of our lives. Sometimes it's the seemingly bad things that shape us the most.

PhantomsRogue: Yes, so many possibilities indeed. The story spins in my mind, and I must say it is rather distracting. On-line collaborations can be interesting can they not? I rather imagine us being in the same room, looking a bit like DeChagny and Nadir, circling around the divans in front of a large fire, over a bottle of sherry saying "oh, and what if we…" and the other responding… "yes, but what if we then…", and yet the other saying, "oh my, yes, that will work…". Can you just see it? Anyway, it is a project that is swelling in my mind.

My sister said the funniest thing this past weekend. I wore an all black suit, which is my typical garb, but I had recently purchased a rather luxurious black turtleneck, had my hair pulled back, silver hoop earrings….she laughed at me over a cup of coffee in our favorite little coffee house. She said "you know, these last months have changed you, and today, you look like someone who I could actually see on the back cover of a book, pen in hand." The funny thing is, she's no idea that I've been writing this story!

I so look forward to this story…and to the story that we will be writing in the coming months…there is just something about it….it feels like fate has finally brought all of the odd bits of my life together so this can happen. I'm hoping that you can feel the same as our story takes flight.

On a lighter note, I did get my bread baked, and tonight I'll be delivering it to my friend. We are going to a German restaurant in the metro to celebrate Octoberfest! I've no doubt by this time tomorrow I'll be regretting the sauerkraut and cider beer…but the one good thing is that they have a walnut torte, and a black forest cake for dessert! Oh my, I am making myself hungry!

WriterMuseoftheNight: Your mind is always working isn't it? Yes, it was the grandmother's appointed time, though it was sad for all parties concerned, there was something very poignant about her death. Erik was able to be there, and to watch the humanity of the process in a way he'd never done before. Yes, I could imagine the intensity of his thoughts when he looked back and forth between the mother and daughter…wondering what that love must be like. For as an intelligent a man as he is, there are things that have simply been beyond his experience…the simple things that we take for granted everyday. Sometimes I look at people and have more empathy for them that what others think I should….but I try to keep in mind…what has their life experiences taught them…..has anyone ever exposed them to something different so that they should have responded any different than what they have? It's difficult to explain, but my mind seems to work that way. We are all just a bundle of experiences, and no one, no matter how learned or experienced, has walked in every different experience. I think that is why Erik in our story has been so much time learning about "life" because there is so very much I can imagine that he did not know.

As to Nadir and Madame Giry….only time and fate will tell if the two are ever to have an opportunity to be together. Though we know all too well that they've a desire to do so! That is often the burden of those who are relied on by so many…they sacrifice their own lives just to be a conduit for the lives of others. They recognize their importance in the circle of family and friends, and see it as their duty to keep everything together. We shall see my dear….we shall see….

As for the other things…I cannot tell you what I've up my sleeve…but you might be on to something. LOL!

Oh, oh….stop my beating heart…..is Erik sending a ribbon adorned rose my way? I think I shall faint…..

Tex110: No hair curling for our beloved Erik! He has far too handsome a face now to have his hair be a distraction! Similarities I was thinking more along the lines of parallels, polarizing opposites of sorts that showed that their differences were really their similarities in strength, conviction, preferences, though different, showing an intense core set of values. Hmmmmm…I know what I want to say…though I'm having a bit of trouble putting it into words. They are not at all the same…but they share something intangible. Both loveable in their own ways….and to different women!

PhantomLover05: Thank you for the confidence. I shall hope to not disappoint you! I hope to redeem myself in the coming chapters. No death, no life, no person comes to this story without a purpose, though sometimes they are but a means to an end.

Batteredchild: Thank you for the compliment. It was a difficult chapter to write knowing that I would be depriving Erik of the one link to his past that he was so close to. What are the odds? He needed to be there, to see this, to be part of it…there is something redeeming about it…though we won't know until much later…..

Draegon-fire: Perhaps I shall dig up some of them for you! Though I must warn you, you might think I'm even more crazy than you do now!

Yes, the reviewers in our Phamily are all very clever indeed! Just when I think I've been mysterious enough….someone figures me out! LOL! I do worry about so many things about what Erik will say when and if Meg and Nadir reveal things to him. I do think that Erik might be a bit tolerant of Nadir keeping that photograph from him until he was sure…I think he'd see the prudence in that…although I think it might freak him out a bit. The one thing I do know about our dearest Erik is that no matter how well adjusted he is beginning to seem…there is so much of his life he's not dealt with…it could be very difficult for him….can you imagine finding out something like that? Yikes!

Diveprincess: How are you my dear? It is good to hear from you. I am glad you liked chapter 134. I can only imagine what Erik was thinking during those moments. In recent weeks he's witnessed two deaths, both women he'd come to care about…both that held different keys to his past….though I think each little step brought him closer to where he needs to be. I think it speaks to some of Erik's humanness. He wants to be the rescuer of all things…first of Meg and Nadir at the winter house, and then the old woman in Chauesser. He is finding out that he cannot, does not have control over fate…and that is a difficult thing for him to comprehend. In all other cases where he's had interactions with the human race, he was able to be in control…in Persia….at the Opera House….I think these most recent experiences will help him reconcile his past, and to come to terms with things that are to come in the future…..

I have been doing very well…thank you for asking. I do miss the conversations I have with members of our Phamily…though sometimes time does not permit for all I'd like to say. All of you have become rather near and dear to my heart.

Do keep in touch my dear…we miss and worry about all the members of our little Phamily! I hope school is going well for you, and that your legs have healed and aren't causing you any difficulty!