Side note: From the previous chapter, Erik considers all of the notes he sent in the opera house as "music-related" since it was all about business conducted pertaining to music (and extortion, ha ha). That's just how he rolls.
Chapter 40
What I expected to write was a symphony of a letter to Amelie Batiste, however, at five in the morning, before anyone else stirred, I dressed in the early morning light as I watched Julia sleep.
She murmured something to me as she rolled over, but I made no reply as I doubted she would remember it.
Bessie followed me downstairs for a brief walk to the end of the street and back, and then we returned home to a quiet house. She gave me a look of canine disappointment once we reached the front steps as we hadn't traveled far and she knew my mind was elsewhere.
"I'll make it up to you," I promised. Bessie looked nonplussed, and I swore that she was the only soul who truly knew my thoughts and feelings before I did.
Words evaded me. I sat in the parlor and read through another note from my uncle, hoping for a bit of inspiration. His words were simple and comforting, the perfect narration from a man who had shaped my life more than he would ever know.
His letters were often less than poetic, mostly rambling and sometimes with thoughts unfinished. But they were his words that I could hear in his voice and that was all that mattered. No pretense, no sentences out of a great novel. They were simply written in his voice.
Once again my uncle managed to influence me, and I wrote a letter to Amelie that was much more of a simple folk song than a grand, complex masterpiece. I mentioned Julia and Lisette and of course Alex, who had already introduced himself. I mentioned Bessie, mostly because she sat beside me and looked up with her sad, pleading eyes. I told Amelie I was a composer and that perhaps she had heard of me, but didn't want to assume she knew my work. I did not mention my uncle's death as I wished to tell Amelie in person. It seemed like something that should have been done face-to-face.
My letter was a single page long and filled with everything in my life that I truly loved. Satisfied, I sealed the envelope and left it on the table in the foyer beside my keys and a canvas bag Julia had set out containing the clothes Alex needed tailored.
Bessie followed me out into the hall looking less than amused that her loyalty forced her to stay at my side even if I merely moved ten feet from where she slept. She looked at me, then at the stairs.
"Go back to bed," I insisted. She did not need to be told twice. A moment later she hopped up the stairs and I heard the bed creak where she jumped up and most likely pressed her long body against Julia's. I was more than a little surprised that Julia allowed Bessie on the bed with her, but figured she was probably sound asleep and thought it was me and not a dog. I chuckled at the thought of Bessie being mistaken for a person-and of all people, me.
Being that I was more of a night owl than an early bird, I was quite startled to hear Madeline, who crept through the back door and into the kitchen around seven in the morning. I sat in the parlor and looked over the paper as she rustled noisily through the cabinets and hummed to herself, breaking my concentration.
"Oh, damn it," I heard Madeline say under her breath.
She would have never survived as a thief, I thought to myself as I left the paper on my desk.
Brow furrowed, I walked into the kitchen, intending to ask if there was no coffee in their house, and proceeded to scare the living hell out of her once she stepped down from a stool and found me standing in the doorway. There was sugar spilled along bottom shelf, which I assumed was the reason behind her harsh language.
"Why are you awake?" she asked after lightly swatting my arm.
"Why are you sneaking into my house?" I returned. I sucked in a breath and rubbed my arm where she had swatted me for dramatic effect, which earned me quite the glare.
"I'm not sneaking," she bristled.
I cocked a brow. "Very well then, Madame, my sincerest apologies for inquiring as to why you are quietly walking unannounced through my home."
"Monsieur Leach brought over this delightful coffee." She held up the container and gave it a shake. "I forgot to take it yesterday." She turned away and added, "And I have missed seeing you. Is that so wrong?"
She had seen me hours earlier, but I simply rolled my eyes at her dramatic response and smiled to myself. "Do as you wish," I said as I walked out of the kitchen.
Ten minutes later Madeline walked into the parlor with two cups of coffee, hers black as always, mine with enough cream and sugar that it no longer resembled coffee.
"You know Julia has an appointment with Dr. Kahn this morning?"
"I am aware."
"You will not be accompanying her?"
"I will not," I said as I took a sip of my coffee. "But I will be nearby at my cousin's home."
"You know where the physician's office is located?"
"I've passed it several times." Naturally I was not about to take Kamil's word for it that he was practicing medicine in Paris and took it upon myself to make certain he shared an office with the doctor Julia knew.
Madeline seemed satisfied by my words and sat back. "Julia is an excellent mother," she said as she looked toward the window and sipped her coffee.
"So were you," I replied.
She offered a grunt. "Yes, well, if I were young and newly married, I undoubtedly would be very interested in starting a family."
"With Senor Brero perhaps?"
Madeline turned her full attention to me, her eyes wide and fair complexion turning a deep crimson. She fumbled for her cup of coffee before clearing her throat. If Julia had been awake and downstairs, I had no doubt she would have stormed into the parlor and most likely lobbed off my head for my comment.
"He is a very nice man," Madeline said once she looked away again. "A perfect gentleman in every way."
She stirred her beverage furiously and blew on the surface to avoid saying another word, and as I watched her, I regretted making her flustered. She had been a young widow, in her mid-twenties from what I could recall when her husband unexpectedly died. As Julia had said, Madeline most certainly deserved to be happy. She had spent just as many years alone as I had.
"Why didn't you ever marry again?" I asked suddenly.
My question clearly caught her off guard. She blinked at me. "I beg your pardon?"
"After Gaetan passed. Why didn't you ever remarry?"
"I suppose no one ever asked me."
"You could have had any number of suitors," I said, instantly regretting my words. Even if Madeline was not truly my mother, I had no desire to think of men falling over themselves to win her hand.
Madeline took a deep breath. "I had a young daughter to care for, an entire troupe of dancers to look after, apartments to keep tidy and organized, I had y…" She looked at me briefly and forced a smile as her voice trailed off. "There was never time."
"Never time," I said under my breath.
"My place was in the theater."
To that I grunted.
She gave me a sideways look. "Why are you asking?"
"I'm merely making conversation."
Madeline gave the slightest shrug of her shoulders and looked me over in silence, which made me terribly uncomfortable. The longer she stayed quiet, the more I dreaded what she would eventually say. I suppose after asking her about Senor Brero I deserved to feel the same level of awkwardness.
"I do beg your pardon," I said gruffly.
"You never simply make conversation," she pointed out. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and in an instant she saw through me. "You think you are responsible?"
Of course I thought I was responsible. She never had time because I had returned to the theater after her husband passed unexpectedly and every moment of her day not spent with her daughter or the rest of the ballet was dedicated to me.
For years we had a parasitic relationship. Looking back, I felt as though I had all but sucked the life out of her.
Still, I attempted to discard her words. "Why would I-"
Madeline raised her hand and held up her index finger, effectively silencing me. "The past is the past," she said firmly.
"Not to me," I muttered.
"Erik, there is nothing I can do to change what has happened. I cannot bring Gaetan back. I cannot give my daughter brothers and sisters. What should I do?"
"You should have done more for yourself."
"Yes, I should have," she admitted. "But that does not mean I regret our friendship. You know this."
"Not ever?"
Madeline frowned. "Are you looking for an argument?" she questioned.
I wasn't sure what I was looking for. I already knew the truth, even if Madeline refused to say it.
"We both made our own mistakes, but after thirty years, I would rather choose to forgive you than harbor anger."
My mistakes were far greater than hers, which she was well aware of.
Madeline shook her head as though she knew my thoughts and refused to entertain my mood. "Besides, if I had married again when I was much younger, I would not be learning the tango from Senor Brero." She wiggled in her chair like an excited schoolgirl and offered a wide grin.
"The tango?" I asked incredulously. "You will be the latest scandal in Paris, Madame."
Madeline took another sip of her coffee. "He is a graceful dancer, very light on his feet, and when he whirls me around…" her voice trailed off into a blissful sigh. "Dancing is truly the language of love. You should take your wife out dancing."
"We simply could not keep up with you and your amor."
Madeline chuckled. "He is truly like being in the arms of a dream."
Before I could tell her there was no need for her to continue praising my tailor and his apparent seductive dancing, a tremendous thud from my bedroom made both Madeline and I abruptly turn toward the parlor door and stare out into the hallway.
Bessie yelped a moment later and Julia muttered an apology before yelling, "She is fine!" Then much quieter, "You are fine."
"What in the world," I said under my breath.
I stormed into the hall and saw Julia on the landing with Bessie sitting beside her, holding up her left paw.
"She rolled off the bed," Julia explained somewhat frantically. She looked from me to the dog. "She was right next to me and then…"
Bessie whined pathetically and limped toward the stairs. Her forlorn eyes appeared even more droopy and pathetic than usual as she stared at me and whined.
I looked from where she sat to the bottom of the stairs and sighed, wondering if it was outside of reason to build a ramp for the dog. Despite being long and low to the ground, she weighed a good fifty-five pounds and was never cooperative on the rare occasion in which I attempted to pick her up.
"Don't move," I said.
The door down the hallway opened and closed and a moment later I heard Lisette gasp. "Bessie!" she cried out. "Oh, is she injured?"
"Who is injured?" Alex asked as he appeared a moment later.
Julia looked helplessly from me to Bessie. Before she could answer, Alex sidled up beside me and slapped his hands on his knees. "Come on, girl! Come on!"
"No, Alex, you shouldn't call if she's hurt," Lisette admonished.
Bessie whined and shifted her weight from her right paw to her left paw. My eyes narrowed and I crossed my arms over my chest. "I suppose I'll go for a walk on my own," I said.
The role of "injured dog" was quickly abandoned as I said one of Bessie's favorite words. She charged down the stairs, ran past me, and sat at the front door with her back end furiously wiggling and all four feet securely on the rug.
"Cured," I said dryly.
Julia gave a sigh of relief and joined me at the bottom of the stairs. "Thank God. I reached over and she rolled directly onto her back and off the edge."
"That dog has fallen off his bed more than once," Madeline commented with a shake of her head.
Bessie gave another whine, although this time it was purely out of impatience. "I do believe I owe her a walk," I said.
ooOOOoo
I waited for Julia to prepare for her appointment and walked with her and Madeline down the street. Ruby was busy cleaning while Lisette and Alex ran to their studies with Charles.
"We won't be long," Julia promised. "Take whatever time you need and give your cousin my best."
Bessie tugged on her leash as we stood at the corner of the street. I doubted she had memorized the route to my cousin's home, but she was certainly in a rush to continue with her walk.
I looked past Julia and into the physician's office where Kamil stood speaking with the other doctor. He looked at me from the corner of his eye, held his hand up to the person he was speaking with, and excused himself.
"Monsieur Kire," he said once he stepped outside. He offered his hand, which I accepted.
"Doctor Khan," I replied. My posture stiffened and I had no idea what to say to him. Never one for small talk, I had no desire to ask him how he liked the weather or if they were busy with patients for the day. Instead, I crossed my arms and stared at him.
Julia placed her hand on my arm and stepped between us. "I will see you when you return home," she said to me. I wasn't sure if she expected me to simply excuse myself and be on my way, but I didn't budge.
Kamil turned his attention to Julia. "You look well, Madame. Good color to your cheeks."
"I feel quite well," she replied with an easy smile.
"Good. You seem to be well rested." His gaze flickered to me momentarily, but he turned his full attention back to Julia before I could react.
"I have followed your instructions," Julia said. She patted my arm one last time before excusing herself and entering the office.
"One of your operas opened this week," Kamil said smoothly after a long moment of silence.
"It has," I agreed.
He smiled in apparent amusement. "I have considered attending," he said.
"I will not influence you either way."
The doctor chuckled to himself and tapped his fingers together. "Enjoy the rest of your day, Monsieur Kire. I hope our paths cross once more."
I did not, but I decided not to say as much as he turned away from me. Bessie gave another tug at her leash and with that I turned and allowed her to drag me toward the corner and across the street, where we weaved past a mule pulling a cart and earned a glare from the old man holding the reins.
Joshua lived three streets away from the doctor's office, an easy and enjoyable stroll past many small shops and a market. It was strange to think we had lived not more than two miles from one another for years and I had not seen him. Or perhaps we passed one another frequently and simply did not know it.
Now that we had met one another, I looked forward to seeing my cousin. I still felt as though we were mostly strangers, but I was eager to know him not only because of my affection for his father, but because he was the only blood relative I had left.
"Erik," he said as I approached his home. "And Bessie."
I found him sitting outside of his home in a small, narrow courtyard of neatly trimmed boxwood bushes and an enormous hydrangea. There was an empty seat beside his at a small, round table and he gestured for me to sit.
"How are you?" I asked.
"Very well, very well. Attending your opera, I see," Joshua commented as he gestured toward the newspaper on the table and smiled. "Testan is relentless. After all these years of criticizing your work and now you're part of his family."
"I'm sure he's thrilled," I replied dryly.
"When are you attending your opera?" He poured steaming water into a teacup for me without asking.
"Tomorrow evening," I said. "A wedding gift. Julia's idea, actually. She sends her regards."
"Give her mine as well." Joshua took a sip of his tea. "And your holiday? Surely you are still taking time away?"
"We should be leaving in three weeks."
"Very good." He leaned to his side and gave Bessie part of his breakfast, which she eagerly took. "I trust Madame Giry told you I had asked if you would stop by?"
I nodded. "I meant to pay a visit last night, but the hour was late when I had a moment to leave the house. I do hope nothing is wrong."
"Nothing urgent," he said. "And nothing wrong."
Bessie whined and pawed at him for another bite of sausage. I started to apologize for her rude behavior when a gentleman strolled up and stood in front of us, his hands on his hips.
I eyed the stranger only briefly, and when he made no remark, I turned my attention to Bessie and pulled the little beggar away from my cousin.
"It appears as though my seat has been taken," the man standing in front of the table said.
He had a deep voice resonating with irritation. As I always did with unfamiliar men, I averted my eyes and started to stand, but Joshua made a noise and dismissed the gentleman standing over us.
My heart beat much faster than necessary, my hands clenched into fists beneath the table. I wound Bessie's leash around my wrist and considered excusing myself, but the man shifted his weight and inhaled sharply.
"No, no," he said dryly. "Do not get up on my account."
Joshua sighed and returned the irritation to his new guest. "You are a day early."
"Am I?" the man rudely commented. He took another step closer, his body so close to mine he nearly touched my shoulder. "What's the matter?" he asked. From the corner of my eye I could see him staring down at me. "Nothing to say to me? Cousin?"
When I looked up to face him at last, I found gray eyes narrowed and focused on mine. One glance and I was reminded of a face I thought I had forgotten.
My father's.
