Chapter Fourteen

I'm in the waiting room...I can't see for the smoke. I think of you and your Holy Book, when the rest of us choke. -U2

Reunion

When Alana woke just after sunrise the next morning, she got up and found Erik, sitting on the driver's seat of the cart, already prepared to leave and obviously waiting for her. He was facing in the opposite direction, shrouded in his black cloak. He turned his head slightly as he heard her get to her feet, and she caught a glimpse of his white mask. Faceless. That was how he looked right now. She shivered.

"You're up," he said softly. Immediately she calmed down, wondering why she had been afraid, even if it had been for just a moment. She had always been safe with him. Well, there had been that strange night where he'd thought she was Christine, but she knew he would never do anything to hurt her. He was the one who'd saved her life twice, accompanied her on this journey to find what was left of her family. She would always be safe with him. Alana walked up to the cart and climbed into the seat next to Erik.

Automatically, he moved to the right, as far away from her as he could possibly sit without falling off the seat. It stung a little, that he always wanted to keep his distance from her, but she was getting used to it. He had been through a lot, and it would take time for him to recover. She knew he was still missing Christine, but time could heal anything, couldn't it? Surely someday he would be able to move on, maybe even come to his senses and realize that he didn't need to wear the mask. Maybe…

A few early risen passersby gave them odd looks as they suddenly pulled out of the alley. She probably looked terrible, after having just woken up after a night outside, and Erik definitely looked very intimidating in his black cloak. "Did you rest well?" he asked, his voice rather tense. Alana looked over at him but couldn't see his face. It was completely hidden by his hood.

"Yes I did," she said, her thoughts flashing back to that night. At first, she had been dreaming about…something bad, she couldn't remember what anymore, but she did recall others. Some were peaceful, others were full of adventures. She was in different places she didn't recognize, seeing things she had never seen before, beautiful cities, incredible landscapes, wonders of the world. Other times, she was in a quiet, dark place lit by candlelight. She didn't know where she was, but she felt completely at peace. Throughout all her dreams, she heard music, and a faraway voice singing to her, and sometimes, she would look over her shoulder and see someone standing in the background, always watching over her, always keeping her safe. She knew it had been Erik, there in all those dreams. Dreams always mean something, her mother had told her long ago. So what had those dreams meant?

Erik just nodded at her reply, and they drove on, only speaking when Alana told him whether to take the next turn left or right or to continue straight on. She remembered the general area where her uncle lived, but she began to realize that the Paris streets did not look quite the same as when she had lived there as a child, or come to visit later, before her mother died. Some of the street names were different, and some streets were missing signs altogether. Many of the buildings looked different, and so did many of the people. Everything and everyone looked…sad, defeated. What happened here? Alana wondered. This was not the Paris she had known at all. That's when she realized that she was lost. They had come to a place where she didn't recognize any of the streets or landmarks.

"Erik, could you stop the cart please?" He pulled back on the reins, and Raven stopped. He turned to her. His face was still hidden, but she could tell he was waiting for an explanation. "I need to ask someone for directions to my uncle's house."

She heard him sigh. "You've gotten us lost, then," he said, his voice icy.

Alana bit her lip. He was angry with her. "I'm sorry. I won't be long." She got down from the driver's seat, looking around and spying a bookshop. There was bound to be someone intelligent in there she could ask. "I'll go in there and ask someone," she said, gesturing toward the shop.

Erik nodded to her and said, "Do you see that café over there? There is a water trough for horses in front, and Raven could use a drink. I'll be there."

Alana left and entered the bookshop, greeted by a musty smell. She sneezed. The shop was dusty, too, and empty except for a little old man with spectacles at the desk.

"Well hello there," the old man said, looking and sounding surprised to see her. "Welcome. What can I do for you, mademoiselle?"

"Good morning, monsieur. I was wondering if you could help me find a place I'm looking for."

The man's face fell, and he looked sadly at the shop's shelves full of dusty, unsold

books. "I can try, mademoiselle, I can try. Pray tell, what place do you need to find?"

She walked up to the desk. "I'm looking for my uncle's home. He's a pastor, and I know that he lives across the street from his church, but I haven't been to Paris in a very long time and I don't quite know how to get there."

"Hmm." The old man stroked his white beard. "What kind of church is it?"

Alana tried to remember. "Well, it's large, and made of stone, with stained glass windows, and…"

"That's what they all look like," the man said. "What denomination? Catholic, Lutheran, Calvinist?"

Alana vaguely remembered seeing books by a man named Calvin on their shelves at home. They were her father's, and he'd never bothered to read them, but most likely they were gifts from his half-brother. "Calvinist," she said, fairly sure of her answer.

The old man asked her a few more questions about the house and church's surroundings, and she told him that she remembered they had been near the nicer part of the city, with beautiful parks and large, elegant houses nearby. Finally, the man said that he knew what place she was talking about; his daughter had actually gotten married at that church. His eyes watered when he mentioned her, but he accounted it to all the dusty books, and proceeded to draw her a little map with instructions on a slip of paper. "Why don't you take a look at some of my books while I draw this out for you?" he asked. "Please."

There was an almost begging tone in his voice, and Alana couldn't refuse. Business was obviously slow, and she felt sorry for him. Somebody had to buy a book, and she had a little money left over that Erik had insisted she keep. She searched the dust-ridden shelves and came across a large volume called, Myths, Legends, and Fairy Tales From Across the World. She took it and blew the dust from the cover, flipping through the pages. The book wasn't much to look at on the outside, but on the inside there were countless interesting stories, each one with gorgeous colored illustrations. Some of the stories were ones her mother had told her as a child. That was it. She was going to buy this book.

The old man had finished making his map, and his face lit up when she brought the book up to him and took some money from the hidden pocket of her dress.

"Bless you, my dear," he said, taking the money, looking as grateful as if she had given him ten million francs instead of just ten. "Business has been so terribly slow these past months." He looked around sadly at his empty shop. "No one has time for books anymore, or the money to pay for them. Why, I remember when this shop used to be overflowing with customers, but that was before the war, before the Commune, before this infuriating military infiltration. Be careful my dear. Paris isn't the place you remember anymore. Don't do anything to draw attention to yourself…everyone's paranoid these days. If you're not careful, people will get suspicious and the soldiers will come and take you away, like they did my precious, precious daughter." The old man's eyes watered again, but this time he did not account them to the dust. "They took her off to Versailles, and I haven't seen her since. Always be on your guard, mademoiselle. Be cautious, constantly alert. Don't believe everything you hear, and be very…" He lowered his voice to a whisper. "…very careful of the people you choose to trust."

Alana left the shop, carrying her new book and the map the old man had made for her. Though the day was warm, she felt a chill in the air as she looked at the crowd of people in the street. They looked sad, tired…like they were all carrying heavy burdens on their backs. As she looked at them, in some ways she could feel it too. She glimpsed a mounted soldier riding across a nearby avenue, and she shuddered. She just wanted to find her uncle's house as soon as possible.

Erik was waiting at the watering trough in front of the café. When she came up to him he turned to her, his face still hidden. He made no attempt however, to hide his irritation. "Took you long enough," he said, rather unkindly.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "But now I know where we need to go. My uncle's house isn't far from here at all, actually."

"Climb up, then," Erik said, and she got back up into the driver's seat with him. Of course, he moved away from her.

"I don't bite," she said, feeling hurt and suddenly upset with him. What had she done to him to make him try to avoid her?

"Who said you did?" Erik asked evenly

"Well, half of the time I'm around you, you act as if I've got some kind of horrible contagious disease you don't want to catch. I know you've been especially trying to avoid me the past couple of days, and I'd like to know why. What did I ever do to you?"

Erik didn't respond, which infuriated her.

"Why can't you always be like you are when you're giving me a voice lesson? Then you actually talk; I know you have so many interesting things to say, so say them. And when we're singing or you're playing your violin, I can see that you're almost…sort of happy. I know you've been through a lot, but why can't you at least try and be like that all of the time? I'm trying to be a good friend to you, but you're making it a little hard, Erik."

He still didn't answer her. Alana wished she could see his face, see what he was thinking since he wouldn't tell her. There was so much more she wanted to say to him, but she didn't know how to say it. More than anything, she wanted to get to know him, but he just seemed so…closed off, like there was a wall between them. She wondered what he thought of her, and remembered that day at the cave when she'd found him, crying alone in the dark. He had seemed so grateful to her then, for coming to him and trying her best to comfort him, but lately he'd seemed like he would rather do anything than be around her, unless they were having a lesson. All she wanted was to talk to him, to have some kind of normal relationship with the man who'd saved her life. Now she found herself thinking, much to her disappointment, that maybe Erik was a lost cause. No, she told herself. There's no such thing as a lost cause. She would never stop trying.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Erik couldn't look at her. He knew she was upset because of him, and he hated that. He couldn't talk to her either. What could he say? She was right about everything…when they were speaking of music, or when he was teaching her more about it, he was almost happy. Being able to teach her was incredible; she was a wonderful student. She was a good friend too. But that was the problem. Every time, after a lesson, he would realize how much he'd been letting his guard down, and that upset him.

He couldn't let himself get too close to her. Their friendship, if it could truly be called that, meant so much to him, but he was torn. Whether she was with him or away from him, she was always on his mind, somewhere, but he couldn't let himself lose sight of what was most important: Christine and him. The more time he spent with Alana, the less time he spent thinking of Christine. Sometimes, he didn't even think of her at all. Even if it was just for a moment at a time, the thought worried him. True love wasn't supposed to die. He had to keep fighting. He couldn't forget her; he'd sworn there would never be a day where he would not think of her.

Erik didn't know how to be a good friend to Alana. He knew he could not spend too much time with her, could not get too close to her, and yet he wished he could. She wondered what the problem with him was, but he couldn't tell her. She deserved better than to know the truth, that if he was not always extremely careful, that if he let his guard down too much with her, even for a little while, there was a very real danger of him forgetting Christine. Forgetting his first love, his only love. No, he told himself. I will not let that happen. He would never let Christine go again.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It didn't take long for them to find the street Alana's uncle lived on. There was the church, large but nothing compared to the towering cathedrals in Paris like Notre Dame, and there was her uncle's house right across the street, a charming building. It was old, but freshly painted in bright white, and there were colorful flowers in holders under every window. Alana smiled. There was one thing that was still just the same as she'd remembered.

"Well, this is it," she said. "We're finally here." She got down from the driver's seat. "Do you want to come with me to the door?"

"No."

She sighed. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"All right. Are you willing to stay right here then? I'll be back in a minute."

He nodded slightly, and she went up to the front door of her uncle's house, her heart pounding. She hadn't seen him or his family in years, and the thought of seeing them again made her nervous. What if they didn't remember her? Or worse, what if they didn't like her anymore? What if, in secret, they'd never liked her in the first place? Alana just stood there in front of the door, afraid to knock, until she realized how silly she was being. She and Erik had come all this way, and not for her to just stand there, too scared to speak to her own flesh and blood. She knocked on the door.

Soon, it opened, and there was her uncle, dressed in a crisp brown day suit, looking like she recalled, the only difference being that he was a little older now, his hair gone gray. His eyes, like her father's, she noticed for the first time, looked at her in a kind, friendly way. "Good morning, mademoiselle. How may I help you today?" There was no trace of recognition in his eyes at all.

Alana didn't know what to say. "Um…I…"

"Yes?" Her uncle waited patiently for her to find her words.

Finally she did. "Uncle Raimond." She saw his expression change from common friendliness to surprise. "It's me, Alana."

He was taken aback. "Alana? No, surely it can't be! The last time I saw you, you were but this high!" He stooped and held his hand palm down near his hip. "But it is you," he said, smiling at her. "You're wearing your mother's necklace."

Alana's hand went to the locket.

"And you look just like her. Absolutely beautiful. Why…what's wrong, child?"

Alana couldn't hold it in. She burst into tears and threw her arms around her uncle. He patted her on the back, and she pulled away, looking sadly at his concerned, caring face. How could she tell him?

"What's troubling you, my dear niece?" he asked.

"It's my mother," she said.

"What about her? Is Una all right?"

"She's dead."

Raimond brought her inside the house and into the sitting room, where he sat her down on the soft couch and took a seat beside her. His face had gone pale, and his eyes had become red and watery. He'd had no idea of what had happened to Alana's mother. Her father hadn't wanted to have a typical funeral. He and Alana had buried Una alone, on a cold, dark, rainy winter morning. After that, Andre had lost contact with everyone he'd ever known, except his daughter, but even the relationship they'd had…it was shattered. He and his half-brother Raimond had once been very close, despite the arguments they'd had from time to time about religion-Andre had never been interested in church and all that went with it-but after Una died, Andre had made no effort to get in touch with his half-brother again. Alana would have written to him, but she hadn't known the address. Now as she looked at her uncle's shock and grief, she felt as if she were reliving the day her mother died.

"What happened?" Raimond asked numbly.

"Pneumonia," Alana managed to say.

Raimond closed his eyes. "She was so young."

Alana nodded and a whole new flood of tears ran down her face.

"But we must be of good cheer," her uncle said, trying his best to smile. "Una is with the Lord now. She's happy, and she would want the same for the people she loved." He patted Alana on the shoulder, and she nodded. Her uncle was right. She knew her mother would have wanted her to be happy, so she tried her best every day to put on a brave face and be cheerful, and live each moment as if it were her last. That's what her mother had done. And that's why she hadn't been afraid, even when she was so terribly sick, dying.

"How's Andre?" Raimond asked.

More tears. Alana just shook her head, and her uncle's expression grew panicked.

"Don't tell me he's gone too!"

"No," Alana said between sobs. "He's alive, if you can call it that. He…he hasn't been himself, since my mother died, and that…" she trailed off.

"What is it, child?"

"That's why I'm here today. I couldn't stay there anymore."

"Couldn't stay? Why not? He's alone now? What's happened? Did he…no, he couldn't! He didn't hurt you, did he?"

She looked at him sadly. "He's not himself. I don't know what he is anymore. I…left a note, telling the family I worked for to take care of him…I need to write to them now, as soon as possible and ask how he's doing."

"Your mother died several years ago, Alana," Raimond said, grief-stricken and choking out the words despite his best attempts to keep a brave face. "What made you decide to leave, now?"

She took a deep breath. "One night, not long ago, my father got very angry with me. I was so afraid. He had been angry with me many times before, but I had never seen him so furious as he was that night. I wanted to get away, but I couldn't." She couldn't bring herself to say the words "he was hitting me." She couldn't bear to tell Raimond exactly what his beloved half-brother had become. "Then, someone saved me. Took me away, and convinced me to come here to Paris, to find you. The man outside with the black horse and cart, wearing a dark cloak…did you see him?"

"Yes, I saw him. That's the man who saved you?"

Alana nodded. "He's saved me more than once, actually. Without him, I don't know what would have happened to me."

"Well, you are very lucky to have him, my dear. Is he still outside? We must bring him inside too. We can't just leave him waiting out there alone." Raimond got up.

"He won't come inside."

"Why not?"

"I already asked him. He wouldn't come to the door with me. He's very shy."

"As I recall, so were you, my little niece," Raimond said, smiling a little. "He must come inside, I insist. It's already such a hot day."

"I wish he would come inside too, but there's no arguing with him. He doesn't like other people very much."

"He likes you. Otherwise he wouldn't have gone to all the trouble to save your life multiple times and bring you here."

That struck Alana hard. It was true. But why, of all people, was he able to face her? Could it be because she had not pestered him about the mask when she'd first met him? She'd been so confused and curious about it, but she'd wanted to wait for him to explain it himself.

"By the way my dear, you are very welcome to stay with us. There is more than enough room for you, and your friend, should he change his mind."

It would be so wonderful if Erik chose to stay with them, she thought. She's been with him nearly every waking moment for the past days, and the thought of being without him now seemed so strange, unimaginable even. "I'll go ask him again," she told her uncle. "Maybe he will change his mind."

"Would it be all right if I joined you?" Raimond asked. "I'd very much like to meet the man who saved my niece's life?"

"I think it might be all right," Alana said, "but let me go first. And I should give you a warning about him."

"A warning?" Raimond raised an eyebrow.

"My friend…Erik. He wears a mask. Whatever you do, don't stare at it, don't ask about it. He wears it because he got a very bad injury to his face in the war, and he's terribly ashamed because of it."

"But there is no shame in battle scars…"

Alana smiled sadly. "That's what I tried to tell him, but like I said, there's no arguing with him. But who knows? Maybe he'll come to his senses someday." She hoped for it more than anything. "I hope he does decide to stay. It would be wonderful if he could get to know you. Maybe you could help him. Goodness knows how much I've tried. He's a good man, I know it, but he's been suffering so much for a long time."

Raimond smiled back at her. "You truly are your mother's child. She was always trying to help the people around her, even if she didn't know them, or if they didn't deserve her kindness. She taught me a thing or two about life, and even though I became the leader of an entire congregation, I've always believed she knew more about the ways of God than I ever could."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Erik saw Alana and the gray-haired man come out of the house, his arm on his niece's shoulder. He quickly averted his gaze, not wanting to look into the face of a clergyman.

"Erik?" Alana was standing in front of him now, and her uncle had stayed on the sidewalk. "My uncle wants to meet you very much."

Why? So he could condemn him? He had other plans. "I don't have time. I have to find a place to stay."

"He says you can stay here…"

"No. I don't want to intrude…"

"But there's plenty of room, my uncle said so. Please stay." She was sincere. He could tell she really did want him to stay, but there was no way he would share a home with a clergyman, and his family. Or Alana. It couldn't possibly end well.

"No," he said again. "I would prefer to find a place of my own. Here." He handed her the bag that contained her two other dresses. "I will be back tonight at ten for our lesson."

"Ten? But the curfew…"

"I'll be here tonight. Walk on, Raven." And with that, he drove off, leaving Alana staring after him in frustration. As soon as he was out of sight of her and the clergyman uncle and away from that church, he felt a wave of relief wash over him, though he didn't have the faintest idea of where he would go from here.