CHAPTER 11 Ruminations

Lisa walked the pair through the overgrown drive to unlock and release them from the property. A tall gangly fellow appeared from the front of a strange horseless carriage as they exited. Clad in a very ornate and formal tuxedo complete with coat tails, he seemed like a Geist that had stumbled from the great beyond to haunt them. He stepped up to the coach with great fanfare and opened the door.

"Good evening master." said the driver in an accent that was unequivocally Russian. Lisa couldn't help letting out an audible guffaw at the lordly title.

"Master, did he really just call you master?" she chided and thought for a moment that it was all an act being put on for her benefit, but the heated look Erik gave her told what he thought of her reaction. The boy on the other hand smiled broadly at Lisa's comment.

Gustave's initial nervousness had stemmed enough for him to give Lisa a quick hug before disappearing into the strange motorized coach. Over the boy's shoulder, his father, the infamous Mister Y of Coney Island, had given her a scathing look.

His father disappeared like a phantom into the dark space night had made of the vehicles interior, but she could see Gustave waving at her animatedly as the servant closed the door. Once out of view of his "master" the driver gave Lisa a mischievous grin and wink.

It surprised her to think how well practiced Erik seemed to be in commanding others, and how easily his menacing manners had slipped past her like water off a ducks back. For her, his attempts to intimidate and control were a worthless effort. Unlike other women, she'd been raised to know her own mind and strength of will. Lisa's upbringing had been far from sheltered. For which she was very thankful. The richness of her life experiences and the memory of her husband and father's enormous affection is what made her self-imposed seclusion tolerable.

Lisa's analysis had irked him. She knew that a lot could be learned by observing a person closely when they were stressed or trying to put forth a façade of strength, and it was obvious Mr. Destler was a man used to having his orders obeyed with very little debate. It wasn't hard for Lisa to surmise why. The walls he held firmly in place around him were a prison only a history of intense hate, anger, resentment and fear could form. But there was a solid representation of that barrier most people didn't have.

The papers had mentioned the mask he'd worn as something of a publicity stunt, advertising the Coney Island Park and the freak show that was its main attraction. Having seen the man up close she now knew there was more to that story. He wore it like a piece of armor, and he'd been wearing it long enough that it was like a second skin.

The mask had been made to fit the exact form of his face and mimic the features of his left side, implying to her that its intent was to hide and detract from what it held underneath. Its edges had been cut to cover the hairline above the right ear all the way to the left end of the brow, and from there the perfect lines could only be achieved by the design of a wig. He was hiding beneath the stark white porcelain something of which he was ashamed.

Lisa pondered carefully the man she'd met, and for a long time it wasn't his wig or mask that lingered in her mind's eye, it was his eyes. Gustave had the same eyes, blue grey and burning with an inner spark. For the boy there was no menace in them like in his fathers, instead there was unguarded warmth and the wealth of feeling that had made Lisa reach out to him that first night.

In the fathers eyes, Erik's eyes, there was a threat there, like the eyes of a tiger peering through the bars of its cage, hungry and alive with a ravenous intent. Those eyes, she'd have to paint them one day, if only to release the ghost of them that had begun to form in her thoughts. They had conveyed so much to her in the short time she had to inspect them.

He was very threatened by Lisa's friendship with Gustave, and every glance he'd shot her way told her in no uncertain terms his opinion of it. Given his attitude it had surprised Lisa that he'd agreed to allow Gustave to continue his visits, but it had given Lisa her own reason to be annoyed when she saw him standing in the foyer. If her mother had known of the events of a few nights ago, he'd never have been allowed in the mansion again. And knowing the great lady, she probably would have called her lawyer Mr. Westervelt to inquire about gaining custody of the boy.

Lisa could understand Erik's point of view, even though he'd mocked her. From all she'd learned from Gustave, his father and mother had deeply loved each other and her loss had been a trauma too great to truly overcome for either of them. There were memories to rich and powerful to ever give way for new ones. Loss was a sad lesson of life that came with age and tragedy. Unfortunately it was a lesson Gustave had learned at far too young an age. No child should have to grow up without their mother, as much as no mother should have to live through the death of a child, it was just unnatural.

Lisa wasn't fool enough to excuse her draw to Gustave as completely selfless. She understood that he represented a small taste of the experience she'd never have. She couldn't offer Gustave the motherly love she knew he needed, but she was more than willing to give this special boy her friendship. She just had to be careful, for his sake as much as hers.

Even before Charles death, Lisa had seen enough of the world to know that the love they'd shared was rare and precious. Few people were fortunate enough to find it once in a lifetime, and she'd never seen someone double blessed in that regard. She'd been lucky just to have it for a few brief years, and as for the joy and promise of motherhood, that one chance was dead along with her beloved husband. Lisa couldn't even imagine allowing another man to touch her without it causing her gut to twist.

Then there were the nightmares, depicting events that mercifully she could not remember in her waking mind. She'd once considered adopting one of the scores of children crowding the cities orphanages, but the world was a dangerous place. If she came to love a child as her own and lose it tragically, she didn't think she'd be able to survive the grief. It had only been because of the need to care for her mother that she'd come through Charles death. In setting all her energy and focus in caring for her mother, Lisa had been able to ignore the wounds on her soul that still bled.

She was sure Erik had similar injuries, so his consternation about the time and affection his son spent on complete strangers was not beyond Lisa's comprehension. She would do her best not to overstep her boundaries, especially if it would keep his overbearing presence out of her hair and home.

Lisa let out a huff as she remembered his first visit, and suddenly felt a little wistful. Was it becoming her nature to barely bat an eye to men who broke into her home? Why hadn't she been angry with him? How could she have excused his audacity? She managed to convince herself quickly that it was all for Gustave's sake and left it at that. Had she been less sure of her own misleading sense of control, the suddenly heavy thud of her heart against her sternum might have made her more on guard.