Chapter 39

Alex read his letter after supper while I attempted to write mine. He was delighted to have received correspondence and suddenly had the desire to write to everyone he knew that did not live in Paris-which was sadly limited to Hermine and Archie Leach.

I had not written anything that was not sheet music or related to selling my music for as long as I could remember, and after I wrote Amelie's name at the top of the page I found myself at a loss.

We had not seen each other for years, and I was not certain what to tell her. I did not know whether she was married, widowed, or neither. The letter she had sent was under her maiden name, but I was not sure if she had simply written back under the name Alex had used as to not add to the confusion.

Part of me wished I had left Amelie as a perfect memory in a bloody and violent past, but the thought was snuffed out by my lifelong desire to see her one more time. Now I simply needed to write to a woman I hadn't seen since I was thirteen years of age. She had been a stranger to me then and now, thirty years later, she was even more of a mystery.

From the corner of my eye I caught Alex staring at me.

"You do realize I have excellent peripheral vision?" I asked without looking at him.

He began tapping his foot wildly on the wooden floor. Eyes closed, I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Alex," I warned.

"Have you had a vision?" he asked. He sat bolt upright, his hands gripping the edge of the chair in anticipation.

"Pardon me?"

"Peripheral," Alex replied a bit impatiently. "Is that what you said? Is it when you see things in your mind? What do you see right now?"

"I see you from the corner of my vision tapping your feet incessantly."

He was not impressed in the least by my observation "What have you written so far?"

"Her name," I mumbled.

Alex looked at the clock and back at me with his face twisted in disappointment. "That's all? It's a quarter past nine."

Which meant nearly an hour had passed since we had finished eating. Words eluded me and I realized my time was better spent elsewhere.

"Does it take you this long to write music?" Alex scratched his forehead and gave me a look of concern.

"No," I said flatly. Being unable to complete a simple letter had turned highly irritating. "Time for bed."

Alex yawned and slid out of his chair like a snake. "May I write Madame Batiste in the morning? And Mademoiselle Leach to tell her we will see her soon?"

"If you wish."

He smiled and threw his arms around me. "Thank you, Father. If you would like, I will write your letter as well," he offered. "Uncle Charles said I have excellent penmanship."

"You are far too generous."

"That is what Madame Batiste said in the letter she sent me."

"I would assume so considering you offered to fund her holiday with your allowance. Tell me again, how much do I compensate you for your duties?"

Alex grinned back without a hint of shame. "I would work day and night to send her enough money to visit you," he said.

I looked him over, appreciating his kindness. He had always been quick to gather books from shelves, pens that rolled off the desk and out of reach from Charles, or any other task required. A word of praise from his teacher was compensation enough for him. I had no doubt he wished to earn enough money to fund Amelie Batiste's travel for no other reason than he expected her visit would please me.

"I am sure Ruby would assign you some duties," I said.

"I would do anything she asked," he said dreamily.

With that he disappeared from the room. I heard him gasp and greet Madeline before telling her I was in the study using my peripheral vision.

"That's very nice," Madeline said to him, apparently not willing to sit through an entire dissertation of Alex explaining what he meant.

I sat back and folded my hands, waiting for her inevitable visit, but to my surprise Madeline asked for Julia instead. Moments later Julia walked out of Lisette's room and I put my unfinished letter where Charles had once kept all of his papers for the universities and hoped a bit of inspiration would rub off on the nearly blank sheet of paper.

I looked at the clock again and wondered if it was too late to pay my cousin a visit. By the time I arrived at his doorstep it would be well past ten and I had no idea if he normally stayed up as late as I did.

The letters from his father were neatly stacked in a wicker basket, and I reached for the top one in the pile. I could tell it was the collection Julia had already read since they were face-down.

Inhaling, I pulled out the first note addressed to my cousin and read through the contents, which was little more than my uncle giving a complaint of the weather, his aching bones, and me not saying more than a handful of words for the duration of the day.

There are times when I catch him stealing a glance, but the moment I address him, he looks away. He does not remember what it is like to have someone willing to listen to his every word. A boy his age should take great pride blathering on about whatever crosses his mind.

I felt a great sense of disappointment in my younger self. How I wished my uncle knew I had words to spare for him now. Many nights I spent wide awake, imagining what he would have said to the questions burrowed in my mind. All too often I agonized over the inflection in his voice, how he would have reprimanded me for being foolish or petty. Sometimes I lost his voice completely and his kindness was drowned out by my father's harsh tone, Garouche's curses, and even the woman in black from Persia smoothly demanding obedience.

For too many years I had lost my uncle. Now I struggled to bring him to the forefront of my thoughts.

With a sigh, I pushed my chair back and noticed Lisette quietly standing in the doorway. Her quiet presence startled me and I wondered how long she stood there watching me read. I could see why Madeline always scoffed at me when she caught me standing in the doorway.

"Trouble sleeping already?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Not tonight. The waltz will definitely help."

"I'm afraid it's too late to play more music," I said.

"I know." She offered a quick smile. "May I have Aria sleep in my room?"

"You may, but as a word of warning she prefers sleeping on your head."

"I don't mind." Lisette lingered a moment longer. "May I ask you a question? About the sad song you played?"

"Shall I sit again?" I offered.

"No, it's only one question." She walked into the room and stood beside me with a curious look on her face. "Is that song from On Summer Nights?"

My mouth dropped open. "It is not, but how did-"

Lisette tilted her head to the side, waiting for me to finish my thought. That was an opera I had not only written, but that had opened at the White Swan Opera House. It was also the same opera Julia had obtained tickets to see as part of our wedding celebration. Our night at the theater had completely slipped my mind.

"Oh my God. What day is it?" I hurriedly asked.

My daughter grinned casually despite my obvious panic. "Do not worry, you have not missed it. The opera is in two days."

I merely blinked at her. "How did you know?"

Lisette shrugged and swung her arms back and forth as she twisted her spine left and right for a moment. She looked equal parts angel and devil. "Because," she said as she motioned me closer and whispered, "Mother and Grand-mere Giry are in the dining room talking about it right now."

I started to stand upright again, but Lisette tugged on my collar, keeping me in place.

"I did not eavesdrop," she said. "They were talking about the opera when I was sitting with them. Mother is certain you would forget."

I gave a slow nod. Julia was absolutely correct as I had completely forgotten her wedding gift to me was box seats at my opera. With my newly obtained knowledge from Lisette, I had a bit of an advantage.

When I stood to my full height, Lisette smiled back at me. "I suppose that was more than one question."

"My dear, I do believe you have saved me." I squeezed her shoulder, and with a wider grin she put her hand on top of mine.

"From being strung up by your toes," Lisette said quietly. She looked very serious when she spoke.

Her words made me chuckle. It was more like never hearing the end of my folly, but I nodded in agreement with Lisette.

"Perhaps the next time you would like to attend the opera with us?"

"Is it expensive?" she warily asked.

"Seeing as how I wrote the piece they're performing, they tend to give me complimentary tickets to see performances."

Her hazel eyes grew wide. "You must attend all of the time."

My expression faltered. "Not all of the time."

Truthfully I had never attended one of my own performances and the tickets sent to me were normally tossed into the refuse and forgotten. Rather than bore Julia half to death talking about my music over the last five years, I wished I had swept her off her feet and taken her to the theater. My damnable reclusive nature had kept me away.

"I should go to sleep." Lisette stifled a yawn. I did the same, which she noticed. "And you should too, Papa."

Not only did Lisette look like her mother, but she sounded like her as well. Weeks into marriage and it felt as though my family should have always included a wife and daughter.

"Excellent advice."

With another quick smile, she offered a gentle hug, then skipped out of the room, turning at the door to wave.

"Lis," I said before she disappeared. "Thank you for the reminder."

She nodded. "Papa? Would you call me Lisette? I do not prefer Lis or Lissy."

"Oh, yes, of course," I said awkwardly. "Your mother calls you Lissy all the time. I simply thought..."

"It is a baby name." She made a face to show her disdain.

"My apologies, Lisette."

Her expression brightened again and she gave a deep curtsy before she returned to her room.

With both children gone to bed, I straightened the desk and walked into the dining room where Madeline and Julia were finishing up their conversation. My hopes of visiting Joshua would have to wait until morning as it was now past ten and I had no desire to knock on his door so late.

"I do not know how you are still standing after staying up half the night," Julia remarked.

I planted a kiss on her forehead and heard Madeline make a sound of disgust, which was undoubtedly in response to my poor sleeping habits. Turning, I kissed Madame in the same manner, which earned me a decisively disapproving look that slowly turned into a smile.

"You have to keep an eye on him," Madeline said to Julia. "He will do this frequently if you do not watch him."

"An eye on me indeed," I grumbled.

Madeline stood and patted my back gently. "I should return," she said with a weary sigh.

I noticed she did not say she would return home and knew she missed the room now occupied by Lisette. I doubted that she missed the house so much as she missed her place as mothering everyone under one roof.

"You should be well rested for your little visit," I commented.

Julia shot me a murderous look.

"I beg your pardon? What visit?" Madeline asked.

"You are accompanying Julia to her appointment?" I asked smoothly.

Still, Julia's eyes remained narrowed, but thankfully Madeline had no idea I had originally meant her Spanish suitor.

Madeline looked up at me and furrowed her brow. "Yes, I suppose. We have other activities planned as well."

"Ah, yes," I said with a nod. "Something you enjoy, I hope."

Julia cleared her throat, which I took as a warning to hold my tongue. In return I offered an easy smile. "I do hope you have a moment to spare for dress shopping tomorrow."

My words caught her off guard and I watched in silent satisfaction as my wife lifted a brow. "Dress shopping?"

"For the opera," I continued. "Did you forget we are attending On Summer Nights this Friday evening?"

Julia's lips parted and she looked from me to Madeline and back again. She chuckled to herself and smiled, clearly impressed. "I did not think you would remember."

"How could I forget?"

As soon as the words left my lips I worried I had said far too much to remain convincing. My place had never been on the stage and my ability to act was lacking.

"You forget to sleep," Julia pointed out as she playfully thumped me on the chest. If she suspected I had knowledge of their conversation, she did not give any indication.

"Sleep is unimportant," I said dismissively. I kissed her again on the forehead as she slid her hand into mine. "Whatever dress you want, it is yours. In fact, buy two."

"A night at the theater and a new dress? You are clearly under some sort of bewitchment, Monsieur Kire." Julia reached for the folded newspaper on the dining room table and handed it to me, her finger pointing at an article. "I suspect you read this?"

Immediately I saw the name Testan and scowled at the paper in my hand. "I did not," I muttered. "What does that asinine fool of an uncle have to say this time?"

When I looked up, Julia issued a pointed look. Madeline excused herself for the evening and returned home, saying something over her shoulder about me sleeping at a sensible hour. I mumbled something in return that I would sleep when I was tired for no other reason than I wished to be disagreeable.

I scanned the title of the article and looked up at Julia. "'Kire to attend own opera.'" I had half the mine to crumple up the page and discard it. "How is this news and how in the hel...world does he know?"

"I mentioned we were attending," she said innocently enough.

My eyes rolled to the back of my head under their own volition. "Is he sitting beside us so that he may mock every damned note?"

"Would you simply read what he wrote?" Julia said with an exasperated sigh. She walked away from me and into the kitchen, clearly annoyed. "It's after ten at night and you are surly as ever."

My surliness had no clock to follow, I wanted to tell her. With a sigh I scanned through the article, disinterested by the content.

At last Kire is subjecting himself to the same form of torture theater patrons have endured since his first opera, 'The Fox Pursues'.

My lips twitched with each ignorant word. How I despised that man. He was not worth the price of ink to print his abhorrent words.

One may ponder what brings E.M. Kire to the theater this week to take in the lackluster opera 'On Summer Nights', and I do believe it is none other than his marriage to my lovely niece Julia.

I highly doubt one of his operas more suitable for dancing bovine than the sophisticated high society of Europe drew in my dear niece, which can only mean one thing. Despite Kire's lack of musical understanding, the elusive composer may be a halfway decent gentleman. Halfway is better than no way, I suppose.

Does he deserve my niece? Absolutely not. Perhaps in time his wife will inspire the life-long bachelor to write something audiences would like to hear. If you are reading this, Monsieur Kire, let it be known I look forward to your next disaster. I will be certain to pack enough cotton to protect my delicate ears from your musical assault.

Congratulations, Julia and E.M Kire, and enjoy your work.

Your Favorite Critic,

Luc Testan

"He likes you," Julia said once she returned to the dining room.

"Clearly," I muttered. "I would shudder to think what your uncle would write if he did not like me."

"Have you read any of his other reviews?"

I immediately bristled. "Why would I waste my time?"

"Because Uncle Luc writes a few sentences for other composers, but when it comes to you, he takes out half a page." Julia put her arm around me and smiled. "My uncle fully admits he does not understand your modern approach to music, but he would enjoy debating your style versus Mozart."

"Debate indeed."

"Well, even if you do not have my uncle in your corner, you certainly have Lissy." She paused, waiting for me to look her in the eye. "Feed her cookies in the middle of the night and she is your co-conspirator."

"I beg your pardon?" I said despite assuming Julia knew her daughter had reminded me of the opera.

Julia arched a brow and I sighed.

"How did you know?"

"Lissy told me she was going to sleep, but she turned toward the wrong way down the hall and I knew she was off to remind you. I thought it was very sweet of her."

"She prefers to be called Lisette," I said. "Lissy is a baby name."

Julia gave an appreciative smile. She grabbed my hand and curled her fingers around my pinky. "I do believe you have a nine-year-old daughter wrapped around here."

As much as I wanted to protest, I settled for a half-hearted scowl. There was no denying I would have delivered the moon to Lisette if she asked for it. Thankfully, she asked for no more than a half a cookie or a simple doll to add to her collection.

"Quite frankly I do not know how you survived all of these years raising a daughter on your own."

"She is honestly no trouble at all."

"No, I am sure she is not, but one bat of her eyelashes and I would have supplied her with a full stable worth of ponies, a castle, moat, and a serpent to guard the drawbridge."

"Ah, well, I assure you she does not need any of those things," Julia said with a laugh. "Your time is more than suitable."

"I do hope it stays that way when she is twenty-five," I said.

"Sons carry their fathers names, daughters always carry their fathers hearts," Julia said before she gave my hand a tug. "Off to bed. I promised your mother I would keep an eye on you."

"You will undoubtedly need both of them," I replied.