CHAPTER 19
It became a habit on those first few mornings that Lisa would find Erik sleeping in the chair next to Gustave's bed. She would collect the tray of tea he always made in the middle of the night, and by the time she returned with breakfast he would have awoken, gone to his room to freshen up, and returned to Gustave's side. It was only after he was convinced that the boy was going to make a full recovery that he used the bed next door, but even then he didn't retire until the early morning and only for a few hours.
From the first morning that the boy opened his eyes it was clear he was on the mend. There was only a brief concern for the fever that didn't break until the third day, but every day Gustave's strength and appetite improved. The biggest obstacle was keeping the 13 year old entertained. While the fever lasted, the doctor ordered for Gustave to remain in bed so everyone assembled in his room.
Mrs. Aguilar slept on the first floor due to an injury she'd had many years ago so she could not climb the stairs. The matriarch was very saddened that she wouldn't be able to attend to her guests. Then Erik had been gallant enough to carry her up to Gustave's room so that she could visit with him.
The old woman beamed as if she was being rescued from a fire breathing dragon. Lisa couldn't help smirking at the way her mother clutched Erik's neck. It may have been obvious to the rest of the world that the man was very uncomfortable and instantly regretted the impulse to offer his help, but Gloria Aguilar chose to remain blissfully oblivious.
They played cards, and Lisa taught Erik and Gustave how to play dominos and mahjong, but by midweek Gustave had become antsy and yearned to leave his room. Dr. Gillis acquiesced only to giving allowance for the boy to move about the house accompanied. He continued to advise it was necessary to keep the boy's movement to a minimum and not risk any respiratory distress.
Erik being as concerned a father as Lisa had ever seen, even compared to her own, would carry the wriggling child down the stairs and back up at the end of each day. Despite being of age enough to be considered a young man, Gustave looked as comfortable as a toddler in his father's arms. The rest of the time was spent between the library, music room and Lisa's studio.
It amazed Lisa to see how happy the boy had become being here with his father. The troubled look in his eyes that had concerned her faded more each passing day as father and son found new ways to connect. It even seemed to Lisa as she watched Gustave watch Erik, that the young man was proud of the older.
Erik too was transforming from the brooding, unstable malevolent man she'd first judged him to be to a tentative friend. He was still uneasy about spending all his time with new people, but he was finding it easier than he'd ever expected to build his social skills. Even Kara seemed to warm to him, and was soon milking as much information as she could about his favorite foods and preparing gourmet versions of them. Lisa surmised that by the end of Gustave's convalescence Kara would become the equal to any French chef on either continent.
In the evenings after dinner, everyone would file into the music room where Erik would play the small spinet. At first he played the usual pieces, like Mozart and Brahms, but with Gustave's encouragement he gifted them with renditions of his own work.
Lisa couldn't help being moved by the wealth of feeling being conveyed in each complex and carefully constructed composition, especially because they were all played from memory since Erik hadn't produced one sheet from his belongings.
It was plain to see that each piece was very personal to him and had a story behind it. Without thinking, Lisa one day asked if there were words to accompany his music, Erik replied gloomily that he no longer wrote vocal accompaniment for the music since he'd lost his soprano.
Gustave would always fall asleep cuddled between Lisa and her mother on the couch while Erik played. Erik would then take his child to bed while Kara and Lisa assisted Mrs. Aguilar to her room. The boy knew he was well enough to make the trip unassisted, but it was delightful receiving this extra attention from his father.
"Can I ride on your back?" he asked the man on the fifth day of his convalescence. Erik looked back at him dismayed.
"What on earth do you mean." He asked.
"Well, being carried in your arms is nice and all, but it's really for girls. I'd be more comfortable on your back instead don't you think, and it would be fun." said the boy. Erik looked on his son quizzically. He understood what the boy meant, having seen young boys play piggyback, but he'd never played as a child and fun for him had never been that kind of merriment.
Still unsure but willing to make an effort for Gustave's sake, Erik helped the boy onto his back and carried him up the stairs. Gustave was pleased more than words could express. He didn't understand why one small gesture could have generated such an enormous feeling, but he was grateful for it.
He was starting to imagine so many wonderful things for the both of them. Things he'd only ever fantasized about when he'd looked at other fathers and sons at the park. He almost felt normal and the sensation made him hopeful.
Lisa would try each night to lie in her bed and fall to sleep, but the compulsion to join Erik in Gustave's room for a late night chat and cup of Persian tea was too enticing to resist. The spice of his brew wasn't really to her liking, having become long accustomed to the robust flavor of her mother's Russian blend, but the promise of his company made it an easy sacrifice.
Before Gustave's incident, had anyone asked either of them if they'd even consider spending time and effort getting to know each other, both would have replied with an emphatic 'never'. Now it was a given that they both enjoyed and looked forward to the company of the other; something that didn't go unnoticed by Gustave, Kara and Mrs. Aguilar or the small group of attendants that visited Erik frequently to discuss his business.
They discussed many topics from politics, to philosophy and religion. Lisa was pleased to find that despite a formal education Erik was very well read and knowledgeable. He had a witty and open humor, even if sometimes puerile. One just had to get past his normally brash attitude to discover the quality of the man underneath. Once he dropped the persona of master it was like the emergence of new person.
It broke Lisa's heart to see that he truly considered himself a monster because of the deformity, which he only ever referred to offhandedly. As consequence he kept everything at a distance. Lisa still couldn't deduce why he'd opened up to her the way he had.
Her curiosity about what lay beneath the mask had diminished to barely noticing it most of the time, but there were still so many questions she had, and suspicions. What had happened in Paris, and what part if any did he play in the mysterious Phantom of the Opera episode.
He talked about the Opera Populaire in regards to the productions they'd put on. He was expert on every piece of music, from its background to its mechanics. Though he'd been taught to read and write by the same friend who had given him refuge from the gypsies, when it came to music he was purely self-taught.
He could play nearly every instrument on every part for all the Opera's he knew or seen produced. Erik spoke several languages, was in fact fluent in all the tongues of the music he loved, Spanish, Italian, Russian, German, Swedish all the way to his beloved French.
Lisa tried to show off her French, but after Erik cringed several times he gently recommended they stick to the more common English before her accent made his ears bleed. Lisa rolled her eyes at his comment. He was, she decided, very French and full of that national pride his compatriots often had. When in response she gifted him with a few well-placed Spanish expletives he nearly woke Gustave up with his chuckling.
Lisa spoke in depth about her experiences traveling with her parents. She spoke of Europe's national beauty and richness of culture, as well as the old world cruelties she'd witnessed. Other places where not only those cursed with medical abnormalities were outcast, but people suffering from disease and infirmity. Many took advantage of these unfortunate, like the gypsies had, making them profitable by parading them for the public.
Erik listened intently was she described what she witnessed. Though he'd lived it, hearing it from an outsider who felt empathy for the downtrodden touched him. What would Lisa have thought if she'd come across The Devil's Child during her travels? He didn't chime in as she spoke of those times. Erik had trained his mind to avoid the recollection of his early days, though the sense of anger, anxiety and hate were never far away.
There were other topics they never discussed, like Christine. Lisa had tried to ask a few carefully worded questions if ever the subject invited it, but her attempts were as flipping a switch to turn off a light. Erik would immediately shut down and be lost to the discussion until the conversation was led safely away. It was frustrating for Lisa, but she felt the exact same cooling effect when the topic of her husband came up. Luckily she had her mother to fill those moments. For Gustave and Erik, it was simply a blank spot.
Lisa's understanding of his being reserved didn't stem her lingering interest at the details of his past. Lisa told herself she had no intention of allowing Erik's mysterious allure to seduce her into investing unnecessary emotions in him. She tried to train herself that she could admire his dark beauty, but not succumb to its pull.
Had Kara or her mother known the growing conflict within her, they would have pointed out to her how foolish she was being and that in denying her own feelings she was only leading herself deeper into the trap. Mrs. Aguilar might have encouraged Lisa's burgeoning sentiments, but Kara would have done all she could to turn the tide.
Kara was happy to receive Salena's telegraphed response to her inquiry in a weeks' time, but it was disappointingly lacking the confirmation she'd hoped for. In Paris the phantom was old news. Most considered the matter closed and the phantom dead, if he'd ever really existed at all. Many speculated that the whole thing had been a stunt put on by the managers to increase sales, but had accidently resulted in the fire.
It wasn't anything that she didn't already know, but there was one thing that did stand out to her, a name. Madame Antoinette Giry and her daughter Meg had been in residence at the Garnier at the time. The Madame had also been the ballet mistress and guardian to Miss Daae, while Meg had been Christine's closest friend.
Even more telling was the information she received about the Vicomtes' passing, but not because it was full of details. She was sure that Mister Y had used his wealth, position and influence to sweep the affair under the table. The papers had reported the events as completely accidental, but they had revealed that the shooter had been Meg Giry.
Apparently she and her mother had come to New York just after the events in Paris and settled at Coney Island working for the same Mister Y. Kara had tried inquiring about it with Dr. Gangle. She rather liked the gentleman, and he reminded her of the brother she'd lost many years ago to the mercenary violence in her county. He was intelligent and good humored with a certain flare that endeared him to whomever he met.
Most days Kara would entertain Phantasma's master of ceremonies in her kitchen while he waited on Mr. Destler. They were often chatting about this or that, so when she started in about the death of Christine Daae.
"I thought Gustave had told about all that." He replied.
"He told us some, but all from the perspective of a child." She said nonchalantly. Dr. Gangle, whose first name was Frederick, sighed deeply. He wasn't in the habit of disclosing the personal details of his employers life, but he'd felt for some time that these women were going to get more than they'd bargained for.
"It was an accident, just like it was reported in the papers." He said as a matter of fact, but Frederick new it wouldn't satisfy Kara.
"Yes, I remember reading that much. But how is it a woman accidently shots her childhood friend in front of the woman's child, her own mother and employer out on a pier late at night." she remarked, trying not to sound frustrated, just innocently curious.
"Does it matter, an accident is an accident." He stated dryly. He folded his hands over the copy of the New York Times he'd been scanning. Kara was looking at him squarely from across the island in the kitchen.
Frederick figured he knew why she wanted more information. They had accepted to Gustave into their little coven as the bright, engaging and lovable child that he was, but the master was could not be considered inviting. Though he'd seen an unprecedented change in the man over that last several days, he still wasn't the kind of stranger most simply open their doors too.
Kara must be afraid for her little family as anyone in her situation should be. Dr. Gangle couldn't be called an expert of the master's past, but he could speak to the character of the man he knew.
"Look, the only person who could possibly give you more is Madam Giry, but I don't think she'll be talking anytime soon. As for me, I can only tell you that you should not fear the master. True he is strange and menacing at the best of times, but he'd intended you any harm he would have done it already. Right now he wouldn't risk Gustave's unhappiness." He said.
"And what if we were to displease him? Can you be so sure of his benevolence than?" she asked.
"Yes. When Meg Giry's bullet killed Mademoiselle Daae, he had every chance to strike her and her mother down but he didn't. I seriously doubt that you could commit a worse crime against him."
"Has he been so good to you and your kind to deserve such obedience?" She asked cynically.
"Yes, indeed he has. It may not be his nature to befriend or show care for us, but he's done more for we freaks than anyone has in all our lives. We live well and we are safe." He finished.
Kara was not persuaded. Perhaps she would need to delve deeper, and perhaps this Giry woman was the only one who could either set her mind to rest or lead her to the truth.