Chapter 24
On the day Erik came for her, the late August air had just begun to cool. The wind had become blustery as it blew in the first dark clouds of a summer storm. Nadir reclined in his chair on the porch, watching Émilie running about with her pretty young governess in the nearby meadow. Strangely, their youthful energy made him feel even older than he was, but he didn't mind. He felt as though he had done enough living for two lifetimes. Now he was content to sit on the porch with a pot of tea and watch his odd little family live around him.
Nadir laughed without humor to think that was all Erik had ever wanted.
He had been thinking often about Erik lately. Émilie had just turned nine and Nadir always thought about his old friend around the girl's birthday.
On the taller hills beyond theirs, Nadir could see the rain already falling with hazy grey streaks between the clouds and earth. The governess would shepherd Emilie inside soon though the girl would protest. Of all the things she had discovered since leaving the opera, she seemed to like the rain the best.
Yes, they would come inside just as the storm started and they would have a piano lesson. Émilie was teaching the young woman to play a Mozart sonata.
They had tried the city and a day school for Émilie. It had not worked. For all Émilie liked the light, she could not cope and would never be able to cope with the people and the noise and the movement. She had descended into panics and depression as dark as her father's before they moved away on took on the young governess instead. The girl was just out of finishing school when they offered her employment. From the beginning, she had been delighted with her young charge, blunt with her questions, and sparing with her judgments. Émilie in turn enjoyed having someone to practice her languages and play music with. Sometimes she even submitted to finishing lessons.
The last bit of blue sky was just disappearing when Erik crested the hill. He was hardly more than a black smudge on the horizon but Nadir could not mistake him. His black cloak caught the wind and tangled between his long legs and he held his hat in his hand to keep it from blowing away.
He strolled down the hill if he had done it every day of his life, and Nadir simply watched, as if he has seen it every day of his.
It seemed to take hours for Erik to reach the house, his form growing steadily and slowly as he came nearer. When he finally stepped up onto the porch, he looked the Persian up and down, glanced over at his daughter, and turned back again.
"Monsieur," said Nadir.
"Daroga," said Erik.
"Have a seat. Would you like some tea?"
"No, thank you."
They descended into silence again. Erik gazed wistfully at the girls tumbling about in the meadow flowers. They were as of yet unaware there was a visitor to their lonely mountain home. As Nadir waited patiently, Erik's eyes suddenly hardened behind the mask and he turned to Nadir with dangerous slowness.
"You make her cover her face?" he growled.
"I can't make that child do anything she does not wish to do. She's as stubborn as both her parents put together. She wears that veil because she wants to. It is more du jour than a mask.""
Placated, Erik sank back into his chair. "But her face?" he asked after a moment. "Is it bad?"
"Not as bad as yours, my friend."
There was no sign that Erik was smiling at these words.
Nadir sighed and said, "Any young men seeking only a pretty face won't be interested in your daughter. But then, given who her father is, I didn't think any young men seeking just a pretty face would be welcome."
"Too true," said Erik shortly, and he glared at the middle ground, likely already imagining intimidating the future admirers hoping to court his daughter. Nadir did not mention that Émilie had begun forming plans of haunting opera houses rather than marrying respectable men. Or that Émilie's dreaminess and reticence were more likely than her face to keep young men away. Erik did not need that. He was already on edge. Even now, it took a few minutes and a glance back at Émilie to soften the angles of his posture.
"And does she...does she...is she angry... Poor Erik...does she hate…"
"She doesn't wear the veil because she has to," replied Nadir calmly.
Erik nodded and this time Nadir saw the golden eyes glow with the hint of a smile.
The first raindrops fell not long after and Nadir suggested they go inside.
"The weather makes my bones hurt, old friend. We are not young men in Persia anymore."
"We were never young men in Persia." Still, Erik followed, lingering at the threshold only for a moment to glance back at Émilie.
"Do not worry over her, Erik," said Nadir as he led the way into the kitchen. "She enjoys the rain. Come in here and have some patience."
"It has been two years, Daroga, but I am still Erik," he said as he followed. He hung his cloak on the back of his chair before he said down. "I do not have patience when it comes to things I want unless there is a plan to be made for their acquisition."
"You needn't make a plan for this," said Nadir when he was sitting opposite Erik. "She will simply walk in if you give her a moment."
The moment came all too soon.
They heard Émilie come bounding into the hallway, laughing and shouting while her governess followed after, commanding the young girl in her sparkling voice to go upstairs and change before she caught a cold. Nadir saw them pass at the end of the hallway, but Erik had his back to the door and did not turn. Instead, the man clenched his hands on the table's edge, his bony fingers gleaming white against the wood.
"Erik?"
He whipped his head up to stare at Nadir with panicked desperation.
"What have you been doing these past years?" Nadir asked lightly.
It took a moment for Erik to bring himself under a tense control before saying, "Not sulking around in a basement, if that's what you're thinking, Daroga."
"What then?"
Erik shrugged. "Drawing. Some architectural consulting. Composing."
"Music?"
"Simple, inane things. For the masses. I publish them."
"How did you find us?" asked Nadir.
"I told you there was nowhere you could take her that I wouldn't find her."
"I know that. You'll notice I didn't take her any further than the French countryside. I meant, why did you find us?"
"I didn't intend to." He paused to turn over his shoulder. The girls hadn't come downstairs yet though they could be heard above. Émilie had grown louder now that her voice no longer echoed in a stone cellar. Erik turned back. "I wasn't going to come for her. I don't feel ready. But they're speaking of her. They say there is a girl in the hills who sings better than angels and plays impossible songs. I went to Christine's grave to talk with her – to her, I know she's gone. I went to sing her requiem at last. And I told her of her daughter and all that had happened…and that she sings. Christine would have liked that. And then when I left the cemetery, I felt that I must come. It would not do to wait. I needed to hear Émilie sing." He focused suddenly. "Is it true, Daroga? Does she sing?"
Any response was cut off as Émilie and her governess came down the stairs and disappeared into the parlor. Nadir caught a flash of a fresh blue dress and Émilie's pale face before she vanished.
"Will you take her?" Nadir asked. His voice was barely audible over the pouring rain outside the open window.
Erik had stiffened again and turned in his chair to catch the brief glimpse the kitchen doorway allowed of the passing girls. At Nadir's question, he came slowly back around.
"I wish only to see her. One last look at her and it should be enough to sustain me for the rest of my lonely years."
"You always say that and it is never enough. You always need more."
"Yes."
"Erik."
"Of course it is never enough!" Erik barked, getting to his feet. "She is my heart, she is all that I have." He raised his mask so he could run his hand over his face. "Just the memory of her has kept me sane and stopped the rage these past two years. She…made me…want to be different. Not look different, Nadir, but be different. I thought if I could see her again, I could…see if I had changed as I tried." He was pacing now, frantically. "How can she still be so beautiful, so happy – after me?
The first notes sounded on the piano and Erik immediately fell to the ground with a cry.