Yo reader-friends, Thank you for answering my questions from the previous chapter, it gave me great insight into my writing and I had fun learning about my world of readers. That is one of the coolest things about being on
-Leesainthesky
Ch 87 Homeward
Damn train took nearly nine hours to reach Paris.
Some five miles outside of Les Andelys, the train stopped cold. Passengers stirred and looked to one another, whispering their puzzled queries. The conductor and the head porter swept through our car. The later man wrung his hands repeating, "Oh calamity," like a worried mantra.
It seemed that a Paul Bunyan sized ox had staged a sit-in on the tracks. I supposed the fellow was tired. Now, I don't advocate cruelty to animals, but if I'd had a Taser gun handy, the beast would have gotten a good prod in his hind quarters to encourage him to the other side of the tracks.
Even in the best accommodations, nineteenth century rail cars do not count air conditioning as a feature; add a long skirt, petticoats, one bouncing baby, cramped quarters and you've got Gabby soup.
A number of the passengers detrained for some fresh air, but Erik and I remained aboard and moved to the marginally less sweltering dining car. We sat drinking lukewarm lemonade by the car's large open windows. Erik removed his coat and I unbuttoned the top two buttons of my dress. The task gained me a few disapproving stares, but I didn't care, I was getting used to being gawked at.
"Erik, can't you sing to that beast, hypnotize it to get up and wander on?" I asked.
"Sing to the ox, are you serious? They'd surly have us arrested for witchery."
I tossed my ever-present wedding bouquet on the dining table, slid down in my chair and spread out my legs. "I know this isn't very ladylike, but my back is killing me."
"Poor darling, a measure of morphine could relieve your suffering. Would you like me to approach the porter? I'll wager that he could locate a vial."
"Sure, I'd like that, but it's not good for the baby."
"Yes, right. It would travel directly into the little fellow's bloodstream. I forgot, forgive me. Here, sit up and show me where you hurt."
I slowly hitched myself upright and bent forward over the dining table so Erik could massage my lower lumbar.
"This pressure on my spine is intense—ooh, that's good, really good; magic man with magic hands, please do not stop. What am I going to do when I'm nine months along? I'll be crippled!"
"Then I shall cater to your every whim, night and day, Madame DuPuis," Erik crooned to me.
"That's one consolation. I wonder what motherhood will be like—I mean, in 2006, mothers have disposable diapers and baby wipes for soiled butts, and then there's pre-packaged baby food and safe medicine for ear infections and the colic. I grew up a child of modern conveniences, how will I manage without them, Erik?" Weariness and heat was making me whiny.
"If you feel you'll be overwhelmed, I can hire a wet nurse for you, dear. Most wealthy women do employ them, and you are a wealthy woman, Gabrielle."
I lifted my head and blinked at him. "Me, wealthy—I guess I am, huh? Weird. Please don't misunderstand me, Erik. I relish the role of motherhood, even more so in this century than I ever did in the twenty first. Having help might be a good thing, at first anyway, but not a wet nurse. It's good to nurse your own baby. Helps get the ol' body back in shape, and it's better for the little one too.
Erik puffed out his lower lip in that brooding way he had. His eyes became dark slits. Was he thinking, angry, or both?
"Humph, a mother suckling her child—a natural occurrence, yet my own could not bear to sully her pure white breast with the mouth of an unclean beast. Never mind that she had carried me in her womb for nine months," he scoffed.
Erik never ceased to shock me with stories of daily cruelties pulled from the pages of his mind's diary.
"Erik, face it, your mother was mentally ill — severely whacked. Your handicap should have brought forth deep compassion for her child, not rejection. If you were my son, I would have given you all a boy could ever need and desire."
He hands stilled on my back and he sighed despondently, resting his chin on my shoulder. I tilted my head sideways to check his mood and realized that he was starring at my breasts. From anger to lust in less than sixty seconds--that's my Erik, I grinned internally.
"Yes?"
"Your breasts look amazingly delectable. Our child may have to compete—"
"Erik, geez!" I whispered sharply and scanned the train car, hoping that my husband's lusty banter hadn't reached the virtuous ears of our fellow travelers.
He would not cease his ogling, so I swatted him with my handkerchief.
"Shoo, horny man. You've not finished your duty, my back still aches."
"Married one day and already a cross old woman," Erik teased. He nuzzled the curve of my neck, nipping at a spot where an electrical current arched through my body, sparking at the junction between my thighs.
"It is the day of our honeymoon and I cannot have my own bride. It is a travesty! My balls are blue," he rasped darkly into my ear.
I chuckled. "Poor baby. Soon, Erik. And then we'll do it until I can no longer spread my legs for you."
"Promise?" His expression brightened.
"I promise, mon homme passionnant."
If my protruding stomach wasn't an obstacle, I was positive that Erik would have sniffed out a darkened corner, pushed my skirts past my hips and taken me right there on the train. I too hungered to lose myself in the glory of my new husband's body.
Appeased for the moment, Erik resumed massaging my knotted back muscles.
"How much does the thought of raising a child frighten you, Erik?" I asked.
Erik continued to rub while considering my query. "What I fear most is passing on bad traits to my offspring. Raising a human being is a colossal and delicate undertaking if you're serious about it, unlike our mothers."
"Certainly not something a couple should enter into lightly. I'll never understand why those who aren't mature enough to raise a child properly do not take precautions," I said.
"You forget, Gabrielle, in this day and time, they've not much choice. Every civilized nation, save for France, recently outlawed all contraception. The Church has kindly allowed for the natural calendar method."
"Uh-huh, and we know how reliable that one is," I said dryly.
Erik glanced form my belly to my face and smiled affectionately.
"In my thirty short years, I've borne witness to many people who treat parenthood like it's some sort of consolation prize— 'oh wow, we got our freak on and oops, look what happened'. Then they ignore, abuse, or abandon the child. I once covered this story for Channel seven in Atlanta about a boy who was kept in a cage and he ..."
Erik's massaging slowed until his hand merely rested on my back. When I glanced at him, I saw his face had turned stony.
My breath caught in my throat. "Mon dieu, the gypsy camp, how could I have forgotten? I'm always bringing up past unpleasantness, aren't I. I'm such an insensitive dork. Please excuse my boorishness, Erik."
"No, No, It's all right, you meant no harm, Gabrielle," he said. Sitting up straight and strong, he bit back a particularly sour memory. This time I lay my hand lay on Erik's back.
"And you are correct, darling; children should be wanted, cherished and loved. I daresay my own mother could find nary soul to assist her, save for an indentured servant and a benevolent old fool of a priest."
"Ah yes; Rouen, the community who toasted Joan of Arc to a crackly crunch. As for your mother, she was weak-minded. Erik, decent folk do not shun unfortunate innocents."
I twisted to face Erik, and continued speaking softly to him.
"Look at the confidantes you've made since we've been together; Mary Ann and George, Dr. Garrett and her husband, Barbara, the Rouxs. When we're in public people still stare, but often the motive is curiosity, not admonition. They want to know what drove you to hide your face, perhaps you are a war hero—many long for a story, Erik."
"I'll be damned if they get one at my expense." He gritted his teeth and hit the table with his fist.
"Okay, but maybe, just maybe, the world is getting kinder."
He laughed at me as though I had a simple mind. "Kinder. Really, Gabrielle, do you think that to be true? Perhaps on the surface there is more tolerance in your previous world, but allow me to recount the future we have to look forward to: Stalin, Mussolini, Hitler, ethnic cleansing, 9/11 ... Shall I continue, darling?"
"Evil will rub its elbows with us until the apocalypse. At this very second multitudes of world citizens in my century are committing countless random acts of kindness."
I felt the need to defend my contemporaries; hadn't we evolved beyond the pettiness of pedigree and looks to delve deeper into the hearts and minds of human kind—hadn't we? I mused.
"One hundred and twenty-nine years from now, we still won't have it right, not even close, but we'll be trying. Technology is a double-edged sword; it will make life easier and communication quicker and more accurate, but in other ways it dehumanizes us. We don't visit as often and handwritten letters are a rarity—there's also the online child porn thing which is just unconscionable."
"Merde, as assiduous as I am in my work, navigating your century sounds far too chaotic for even my taste; I would lose the remnants of my sanity."
"Or discover your personal utopia on earth."
"That, I have already found," Erik squeezed my free hand. I was pleased to see his mood had lightened."
A rumbling of low voices grew steadily from the front of the dining car. The conductor was sweeping up the aisle.
"Mesdames et messieurs, please take your seats. The obstacle has been successfully removed. We will resume our journey post haste,"he spoke urgently.
I craned to look out the window and spied another ox. I couldn't say where it had come from, but it must have been female—it was the only thing in two long hours that had interested the other great beast enough for him to lumber off of the tracks.
"Ah, the love of a good woman," said Erik, smiling.
"Yippee," I said when I heard the steam whistle blow long and loud. The train's wheels chinked into motion and we were back on out way to Paris.
"To stave off what you would call a 'maternal meltdown', would you agree to hired help?" Erik picked up our previous conversation.
"At the manor? Do you honestly want another stranger underfoot, Erik? I'm sure I'll be able to care for our child on my own, that is, if his father has plans to lend a hand."
"Why wouldn't I? I've no lofty notions of parenting being strictly woman's work. I would consider it an honor to assist in the care taking of my own child. You will, however have to teach me—"
"As if I'm an expert in child rearing?"
"More so than I. Your previous life taught you many superior techniques for rearing a child, did it not?"
"Modern diaper changing techniques for one," I said with the seriousness of a shaman.
Erik cleared his throat and slipped his hand into mine. "Gabrielle, I need to tell you something."
"Okay."
"After you fled DuPuis Manor, there was no one to cook other than Madame Roux. Marie, she is a fine woman, yet I've always found her talents in the kitchen somewhat lacking. And as she has reached her autumn years, the burden of keeping up my home wears on her ... I had no choice."
"No choice as to what? You didn't let her go did you, Erik?" He wouldn't do something so callus, would he? I worried.
"I've gone and hired a second housemaid," he blurted out.
"Come again?"
"Another woman to assist Madame Roux. Oh, Madame Roux's complaints are as long and wide as the Seine. I had to convince the woman that I would never, ever put Henri and her out."
I slapped my hand over my heart, "Thank the Lord, Erik. I love that old couple. They're my surrogate parents," I said winsomely.
"I hired a girl to help with the chores."
"And Marie is okay with this?"
"It is my home and I do as I please." Erik crossed his arms over his chest like a petulant child. My amusement at his irritation made him pout all the more.
"Well, now it's our home," I reminded him gently. "This—girl you've hired, is she trustworthy?"
"Her references are impeccable and Nadir could find nothing amiss in her background. She is properly obedient and meek. I think you will like her, Gabrielle."
"Does she cook, too?"
"No, Marie remains in charge of the kitchen."
"Ha, I wonder if I'll have to wrestle it back from her. Marie is a territorial old gal, you know."
"I'd think you'd rather not involve yourself in menial tasks, Gabrielle? As the lady of the manor and a new mother, it's not usual."
"I don't care, I like to cook. I like to eat my cooking, or at least not Marie's. Are you sure she's French?"
Erik laughed and rubbed my knee lightly. "My dear, if you prefer to cook for us, I have no objections. I, too, prefer that you prepare the meals and Madame Roux will have to, as you say, 'deal'."
"Good," I smiled. "As for this new girl, does Madame Roux like the girl?"
"In a fashion; she approves of her sound work ethic and meek attitude, but finds fault with the foibles of her youth."
I chuckled, thinking back on how Marie used to make me feel like the most incompetent lump on the planet when I first arrived at the manor—before Erik decided I would do better whipping up soufflés than making up beds.
"What's her name?"
"Catalina Caruso. She hails from Italy. Her father is a blacksmith and her mother a former opera singer."
Figures.
"With a name like hers, she should be Italian. Does she sing, too?"
"Poor thing cannot find one note in a score of them. She told me so herself."
"Is she ... attractive?"
Great Gab, now go flog yourself for asking that idiotic question.
"Attractive? How should I know? I rarely see the girl, save for a brief pass while she assists Madame Roux with the laundry. The girl is quite young, nineteen—an only child. Her résumé claims she served in the house of a Belgian diplomat before coming to DuPuis Manor."
"Why'd she leave the diplomat, then?"
"To be closer to her family; they reside in the next province."
"Erik." I wrinkled my forehead and addressed him with restrained annoyance. "Why didn't you tell me about her before now? Did you fear my disapproval?"
"No. You'd left and I needed someone to assist Madame Roux. I forgot to tell you, Gabrielle, that is all there is to it. Erik cocked his head. One corner of his mouth curled up into a curious smile. "Could it be that you are slightly jealous of the presence of another young female in your nest, Madame DuPuis?"
"Jealous? I am not the jealous type, Erik."
"For someone with your blasé attitude, you did a brilliant job on my underground retreat."
"Why yes, Erik. You traipsed off to Paris. The forged "dear Jane" letter arrived. I discovered 'Le shrine de Christine', complete with a wedding ensemble and shoes to match. I suppose I was a teeny weenie bit—pissed off. Here we were engaged and I found that under wraps—"
His lips stretched into a thin, dour line. "It was cordoned off behind the curtain; I'd not peeped at it in months--I've already explained all that to you, Gabrielle. I was consumed with our wedding plans and my opera and I'd not found time to discard it."
"Whatever."
"Gabrielle," he expelled a long, tired breath. "Please, let's not argue about the past."
An involuntary yawn took hold of me; I stretched my arms and drew my legs up against Erik's thigh. "Oh, don't worry about it; I'm much too pooped to argue with anyone, even you," I said, brushing my lips against his cheek.
"Wench," he murmured, curling a strong arm about my shoulders, an invitation to rest my head on his chest.
I nodded off, waking only when the train slowed down for the final few miles into the Paris station.
"My love, wake now, we're almost home," Erik whispered to me. I roused enough to peer out the window. We were mere miles from the comforts of Erik's enormous goose down bed, my surrogate grandparents, the Roux's, and stately DuPuis Manor.
Ten minutes passed before we could disembark. With the help of Erik's hand beneath my elbow, I stepped out of the train. The soft lights of Paris greeted me, illuminating the dusky night sky. When my feet touched the platform, I knew I'd returned to a place I could call home.
Scanning the throng of cabriolets waiting in the taxi stand, I lifted my face to Erik's.
"Where is our pumpkin coach?" I asked.
- ()-
Okay, next chapter Gabrielle greats Marie, Henri and the new maid. Eventually we'll have an exciting child birth as well. Stay—er—tuned.
-Leesa