16

Erik was awakened by a small being jumping up and down on his bed on Christmas morning. Katrina stopped when he began to move, and dropped to her knees beside him.

"Merry Christmas, Uncle, Merry Christmas!" She whispered, feeling that perhaps it hadn't been right to wake him.

He smiled, a relaxing of the yellow lips around the teeth, and sat up to find Tomino across his legs. The pup received a frown, and a none to gentle push. "Good morning, Katrina. Come," He held the bedding back to allow her crawl in beside him, and cuddle against his side. One of the results of his deformity was an elevated body temperature, giving off the impression of an eternal fever. On these winter days when the cold seeped into the house on lake, it was a welcome item.

They had exchanged gifts the night before, he giving Katrina several new books and the score for the Magic Flute. For him, she had found some staff paper with the lines already drawn and had managed to make an embroidered muffler with Helen and Marie's help. Madame found the whole thing disturbing, but knew there was nothing in heaven or hell that would change it.

After she had nestled in, he reached to the stand beside his bed and picked up one of the new Christmas books and they read aloud until it was time to get ready for the church service. As they stepped out in the cold air, other people on their way to the holiday service joined them. Everyone was rosy faced and laughing happily. A few wore reverent expressions, and some children threw snowballs at each other. Katrina's eyes glowed with wonder and for a moment forgot herself in the lights and sounds. Erik kept a firm hold on her mittened hand, sure she would not hesitate to run off should the urge take her.

The church was not full, but the greenery, the quiet music and the hush of renewed joy that stuffed every heart did the weary man's soul good. He had continued the practice of church to humor his dead sister, and also hoped it would fill a deficit in Katrina that he often felt in himself.

For some reason that Christmas day, he knew that it was not the attendance that had taken root in the girl's heart, but what she had learned from her attention to the lessons taught there. It was an aspect he had never considered before. Watching her in the light of the candles as she studied the elderly organist, he felt that perhaps there was more to eternity than heaven and hell, and that perhaps there was a future for such a thing as he.

Unnoticed behind them, the Daroga and Darius entered and sat down. They had come because there was nothing else to do, and the opera was empty of people. The Persian noticed the girl beside the gentleman, and presumed it was the uncle she had been rumored to live with. She was something of an enigma to the opera as a whole. Darius could only see that his master was not gleaning the peace of the day and sighed resignedly.

The crowd left quickly, the prospect of large dinners or the need to be at a master's house to serve the dinner hurrying their steps. Katrina bounced beside Erik, trying to step in an even line to leave as much snow undisturbed as possible. He paused in the park to allow her to dive into the drifts, and considered the possibility of colds and coughs. A laugh behind him caused him to turn and find Helen D'Arcy watching in high amusement. It had been two weeks since their last meeting.

"She's not still for very long, is she?"

"Not unless there is music or books." He replied. "I believe I should wish you a Merry Christmas, mademoiselle."

"And I wish one to you too, monsieur." Helen examined the child running amok in the snow. "Would you care to join us for dinner?"

"I do not think that would be appropriate. But thank you."

She shrugged and smiled. "It is we who owe you thanks for helping Mama when she fell. Ah well, come if you change your mind, you are welcome."

He returned his own gaze to Katrina, whose hair was completely coated in little balls of ice. She was alternating between making snow angels and spinning down a slick sledding trail. "To you, who have made an agreement with my niece perhaps. But I think your mother and sister would require persuasion on the subject."

Helen smiled and shook her head, but made no further comment on the matter. "Were you just coming from church?"

"Yes."

"I would not have expected that. You do not seem the sort to darken the doors of a religious edifice."

Still he did not look at her as he answered, "I do it for Katrina's sake. It is what her mother would have wanted."

"Were you and your sister close?"

"No."

Katrina came running back at that moment, catapulting into her uncle's legs. Her shining eyes met Helen's excitedly. "Merry Christmas!" She gasped, before sitting down dizzily.

"Merry Christmas, Katrina. We will see you in a few days, yes?"

"Yes, mademoiselle." She blinked owlishly around her, and pressed her mittens to the ground in an attempt to steady herself. Erik picked her up, and walked away.

Helen smiled to herself as she watched. The painfully thin man bundled so no part of him could be seen, and the charming little girl, flushed from her exertions in the cold, waving over his shoulder as they went home.

Walking back to the opera, Helen was thoughtful. It was not her customary state, and soon she was as caught up in the spirit of the holiday as Katrina had been.

For dinner Erik and Katrina had roast goose, with pudding, bread and canned peaches. After the feast, Erik played and sang, Katrina joining in, cheerfully unaware of how strange a picture it made. Christmas songs from all the ages flowed from the piano and voices, with a few Erik had written. Afterwards was a large tea involving a chocolate biscuit cake as well as honey dipped nuts. When everything had been put right and Katrina dressed in her warm nightdress, Erik read again from the new book, stroking her hair fondly.

When she went to bed, he went to arrange the covers over her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. "God bless you, Uncle Erik. I love you."

"I love you too, Katrina." He said softly, kissing her forehead. It was so good to kiss someone's forehead, and not have them consider drawing away.

That night, Helen pulled out her disused oils and a canvas. While Marie and Madame played cribbage, Helen painted. Before the darkness grew close, she had nearly finished. With a smile, she walked across the room to survey the work. It was of a winterscape in the park by the church, a man carrying a little girl walking away through Paris as the child waved blissfully over his shoulder.

"It's one of your best pieces, dear." Madame D'Arcy commented, looking up from her cards.

"Yes, I think it has something my others missed."

Marie frowned, trying to remember how her sets counted. "What's that?"

Helen looked at the canvas in the firelight and felt herself begin to frown. "I don't know. I really don't"