Chapter 64
"Joshua said you do not typically accept visitors in the back of the gallery," I said to Phelan.
"Was he here tonight? Pity he left early. I suppose he had something better to attend."
"He did not say."
Phelan grunted. "How unfortunate," he dryly replied.
Before I could say another word, Theo Van Gogh knocked on the door and did not wait for Phelan to invite him in. Instead he cracked the door open, eyed Elvira, who was still on my brother's shoulder, and whispered something to Julia, whom I could see standing wide-eyed behind him.
"Why don't you invite everyone in attendance back here for an after party?" Phelan grumbled. "Come in or don't, but shut the door, you fool."
Theo hastily escorted Julia inside to the clamor of guests in the gallery and swiftly shut and locked the door, then proceeded to dramatically lean against it as though he alone prevented a stampede of gallery patrons from entering the back room. Julia looked at me briefly and rolled her eyes, which immediately piqued my interest as to what had transpired while I was with my brother.
"There is an offer on one of your paintings, Monsieur," Theo said as he pulled out his handkerchief and mopped his brow. "A very generous offer at that. More than you are asking."
If Phelan was the least bit surprised or pleased he did not show it. "Shall I guess who made the offer?" he asked over his shoulder.
Theo neatly folded his handkerchief and appeared somewhat flustered. "Will you make an appearance for the buyer?"
"Tell him I do not wish to sell to him," Phelan said with a dismissive flick of his wrist. He did not bother to turn his head and address Theo directly, and the way in which he slouched in his chair reminded me of an insolent child.
The color drained from the art broker's face. "Monsieur, surely you are not serious."
"What if I am?" Phelan fed what appeared to be dried blueberries he pulled out of his overcoat pocket to his bird and otherwise ignored the perspiring man standing at the door with Julia still at his side.
Theo sputtered for an answer. "Then-then he will be insulted, Phelan. Absolutely appalled by your brash treatment and outright indecency."
"Indecency," Phelan muttered. He glanced at me and smirked while Theo continued to turn a deeper shade of red.
"Why would you deny a buyer?" Julia asked.
At the sound of my wife's voice, Phelan twisted in his chair and craned his neck to meet her eye. "Ah, welcome, Madame Kire," he said politely. "Why would I deny a buyer? Because I can," he answered.
I started to stand and offer my seat to my wife, but she quickly shook her head.
"Then you wish me to tell the entire crowd of people, admirers of your work, that you do not wish to sell to Monsieur Moreau?" Van Gogh huffed.
I immediately recognized the name. Moreau was the gentleman outside the gallery clamoring for his name to be added to the guest list-the man who had dismissed me at once because I was not Mozart.
"Quite frankly he should not have been allowed inside at all. Tell that dolt Claude he is dismissed at once for failure to properly meet employment standards."
"I offered Claude no compensation," Theo pointed out.
Phelan snorted. "At last you've done something correct."
Theo threw up his hands and moaned so dramatically that I would have thought Meg and Alex gave him acting lessons. "I allowed Moreau in, Phelan. Why, he was out there on the street pacing back and forth, looking absolutely miserable with his plight. People far beneath him were entering left and right and quite frankly I could not bear to see him insulted a moment longer."
"So you insult me instead?"
A vein in Van Gogh's forehead protruded. I half-expected him to have a stroke. "Monsieur, I have a family to support. The amount Moreau is offering for your painting is...it's quite frankly absurd. If you would simply speak with him as a favor to me for all of the assistance I've provided over the years..."
Phelan rolled his eyes. "We both know half the commission you receive will go to your dim-witted brother and a brothel he frequents."
Van Gogh stood a little straighter, his jaw set and nostrils flared. He offered no argument and quite literally appeared to swallow his pride as his Adam's apple bobbed.
"Consider his offer," Theo said as he flicked out a small piece of folded paper from his overcoat and hastily dropped it on the table next to the pitcher of water. "Please, Phelan, you are the only one of my clients who will make a sale this month."
Theo let himself out of the back room and locked the door while Phelan did not so much as look at the piece of paper with the offer. Seconds ticked by and I found my curiosity piqued by a number scribbled on a paper that had absolutely no bearing on my life or my bank account.
"Why would you not sell a painting to Moreau?" Julia asked. She still had not moved from the door, which I assumed was mostly due to the bird guarding her master.
Phelan stayed silent a moment longer. "Because I do not care for him," he answered at last. He turned his head to the side and the bird dipped, pressing her beak to his lips. "And neither does Elvira."
"But you are denying yourself a considerable amount of income," Julia pointed out.
Phelan stretched out his long legs. "I deny myself nothing. The painting will sell another night."
I couldn't tell if he was outrageously confident or simply wished to leave his broker and the buyer sputtering for a response and create more of a stir. Phelan had a way of grating on the nerves of others; a talent he clearly excelled at.
Finally he took up the piece of paper and unfolded it. Scoffing, he tossed it back on the table. I looked over my shoulder at Julia, who stared back at me with her eyebrows nearly in her hairline. I assumed she had been present when Moreau made his offer and silently willed her to at least mouth the amount as I greatly desired to know what offer Phelan dismissed.
After a brief moment of tapping his steepled fingers together, Phelan sat up straight and sighed. "My pleasant evening has come to an abrupt end, Kire. If you wish to avoid the crowds I suggest you slip out the back of the gallery. I have no doubt there are sixty anxious art enthusiasts standing outside the door at this moment." He looked at his pocket watch and exhaled hard.
The gallery hardly seemed large enough to accommodate sixty patrons, but before I could question Phelan, he swiftly stood and stalked toward the door. He paused momentarily, offered a dramatically low bow to my wife, then disappeared through the door with the bird squawking from his shoulder. Shrieks briefly filled the gallery before Phelan slammed the door shut behind him. Even with the door shut I heard him demand everyone remain silent. His words were obeyed immediately, which I found impressive.
Julia pursed her lips, her expression crumpling now that we were alone.
"My dear…" I started to say as I rushed toward her.
Unexpectedly Julia snorted with uncontainable laughter instead of tears and covered her face with both hands.
"You are amused?" I questioned.
"You aren't? My goodness, Phelan is very dramatic."
"Indeed."
My wife took a breath and straightened her spine. "Do you want to know what Moreau offered for the painting he wishes to purchase?"
More than anything, I wanted to say.
"If you wish to disclose," I casually responded.
Julia made a face. She knew me all too well to believe I had no interest in such things. "Eighty thousand francs."
"For which painting?"
"The one with the…" Julia's expression darkened. "The figure at the bottom of the stairs."
"Moreau offered fifty thousand more than it is priced?" I asked incredulously.
"He followed Theo around and said he would have a banker friend of his withdraw cash right that moment if Phelan would accept his bid."
"Why is Moreau so desperate?" I asked.
Julia shrugged. "I have no idea. And I still don't understand why Phelan refuses. I have no doubt his artwork will sell, but for the amount Moreau offered seems unlikely."
With a sigh I looked from my wife to the closed door and severely doubted Phelan would return any time soon. Elvira continued to squawk, but other than the bird's vocalizations, I didn't hear anything else in the gallery. Seeing as how the night seemed to have abruptly ended, I reached into my waistcoat pocket for my watch and discovered the envelope containing the drawings from Lisette and Alex had intended for my brother.
"I suppose I could leave this here," I said, nodding toward the table between the two chairs.
"We can wait if you'd like," Julia offered.
Given the manner in which Phelan had stormed out, I doubted he would be in an amiable mood when he returned.
"Not necessary." I smoothed my hand over the envelope and left it on the table. Lisette had written To the Artist in large, carefully scribed letters with From Lisette and Alexandre Kire at the bottom. The way in which she signed her name made my heart swelled with pride as I had not considered Lisette taking my name as her own. "Shall we?" I asked as I offered Julia my arm.
Julia accepted and stepped closer. The heat of her body next to mine and the smell of her perfume sent an unexpected zip through my belly. I wondered if she felt the same when she stood beside me as we exited from the back of the gallery and into the alley leading to a busy street. The sun had not yet set and the air smelled like sugar and roasted nuts, a scent that reminded me of the nights I wandered outside of the theater in the colder months. I inhaled deeply, my mouth watering for a treat I had not enjoyed in many years.
A boy not much older than Alex stood on a wooden crate with a box hugged to his body containing roasted nuts and other treats. Beside him, a younger girl with stringy blonde hair that matched her brothers, sat cross-legged with a bucket of flowers beside her while she fashioned loose flowers into a crown.
Julia squeezed my arm. "Lissy loves the salted taffy," she said.
That was the only excuse I needed to cross the street. I waited for two wagons to bumble past before I approached the boy and his sister. Both children eyed me warily, their gazes -as expected-drawn to my mask.
"Taffy and almonds," I requested.
"Are you well this evening, Monsieur?" the boy asked as he handed me the taffy in a neatly folded waxed paper bag. Through the white paper I could see the pastel shades of candy and imagined the delight on Lisette's face when she discovered her treat.
"Well enough," I answered. "And you, young master?"
The boy grinned and picked up a brown paper bag filled to the brim with almonds. "As well as can be, all things considered."
I assumed he mimicked a phrase he had heard from his father, which both amused me and reminded me of Alex. "To better things, then," I said as I handed the boy payment. "No change required."
The boy's blue eyes bulged. "But Monsieur, this is too much," he stammered.
"Do with it as you please," I insisted.
With a grin he handed me another small bag, this one filled with caramels, and immediately showed his sister their good fortune for the day. The girl stuffed the ten franc note into her dress pocket, and I noticed the wariness in her gaze turned to gratitude.
"These are better than I remembered," I said as I crossed the street and offered Julia the bag of almonds.
She popped a small amount into her mouth and nodded. "I'm not sure I've ever had them."
"I ate them almost nightly when I was a boy," I confessed. "There was a cart across the street from the Opera House that sold bags twice as big as these. I am fairly certain that I kept that gentleman in business for the first five years I lived here."
"My husband indulging in sweets?" Julia teased. She playfully bumped her shoulder against my arm and grinned. "I cannot image such things."
"I learned that after ten the man wanted to be rid of the rest of his supply and he would give you two for the price of one, so I often ventured to his cart when I noticed he had only a handful remaining," I replied. The thought made me smile inwardly at how delighted I had been to gather up my treats and hug the warm paper bags to my chest. It had felt somewhat devious and yet practical on my part and I thought myself very wise and aware of the world and how it worked. "I'd devour one full bag on my return home and save the other for the following day. They always seemed better on the second day."
"You and Lissy are most certainly cut from the same cloth. That girl would sleep until noon every day aside from Friday when Anthony sells the sweet bread half price to clear the shelves for Monday. He always saves plenty for her, but she insists we walk down first thing in the morning so she has her pick of the bakery."
"Clearly you do not understand the importance of sweet bread."
Julia giggled. "I suppose I do not." She took another handful of nuts as we continued down the street, leisurely strolling past dozens of families, couples and throngs of individuals bustling toward their destinations. Once or twice a man or woman would meet my eye and nod, but for the most part everyone around us was swept up in their own private conversations or far too preoccupied with their own thoughts to spare a glance.
"How was your conversation with Phelan?" Julia asked.
I had taken another mouthful of almonds and silently mulled over her question. We had left the gallery so abruptly that I felt the majority of what Phelan and I had discussed was still not quite processed in my mind.
"Informative," I said at last.
"Is that good or bad?" Julia warily asked.
"A bit of both, I suppose."
She watched me from the corner of her eye and frowned, clearly dissatisfied that I was not more forthcoming. "I see."
"There is much he recalls of when we were children that I don't," I said. The crowd thinned out as we made our way past shops and cafes and neared our residential neighborhood. The street lamps would be lit soon as the sun set in a canvas of pink and orange. Lively music from taverns would replace the more demure offerings from cafes and musicians in the park.
"You were three the last time you saw him. I would assume you were simply too young to remember."
Her reasoning failed to make me feel less frustrated. "I remembered one instance he described." I paused and scanned our surroundings. Other than a group of boys kicking a ball around on the corner, we were alone. "After I went missing."
Julia nodded, but I noticed the flash of concern in her eyes. "I had no idea you went missing."
"I didn't either, not until Phelan told me."
"What happened?"
"We were living with my uncle, and Phelan had promised to take me down to the seashore, but he was preoccupied with drawing and lost track of the time," I said. "I apparently took it upon myself to walk down to the water before dark."
"You must have gotten turned around," Julia said.
"I suppose," I answered. I felt as though I must have followed Phelan to the seashore hundreds of times before this day, that I should have known precisely where to travel in order to get safely home. "I have no recollection of walking down to the sea or my father taking me."
Julia's lips parted, alarm settling in her hazel eyes. "Your father took you?"
"Yes." I paused. That was what I wished to believe. "Or so it seems. I'm not certain if he coerced me into following him or if I willingly accompanied him, but Phelan said I had been gone for several weeks before he and my uncle met my father on the beach with me at his side."
"Your uncle took you and your brother from your parents home when you were a newborn, correct?"
I nodded. The circumstances surrounding how we had come to live with my uncle were still unclear.
"Perhaps your father wanted a second chance to raise his sons," Julia hopefully replied.
"Doubtful." Again I looked around to make certain no one overheard our conversation. Julia simply looked at me and waited for further elaboration. "He had blackened my eyes," I answered quietly.
"Oh," Julia exhaled as though my words had punched the air from her lungs.
"That is what I remember; standing in the bright sunlight with my arm wrenched over my head and him ordering me to be silent. His intentions were not to provide a loving home, unless I had done something which angered him and..." I fought the urge to blame myself for my father's actions, to believe I had done something that warranted being given two black eyes.
"Alex has ripped up my compositions, pushed vases filled with water and flowers off the table, and driven me mad with his outbursts and I have not once considered striking him. Not once. What sort of man gives a boy three years of age two black eyes? What sort of father imprisons his son in a cellar and tells him there is no one in the world capable of loving him? He did not deserve a chance at raising me."
Julia immediately looked away. "It must be difficult to hear that he kept you from your brother and uncle."
"Not...yet," I murmured. Not in the light of day, not on the streets of Paris. After dark when I sat in my study or dressed for bed the description of that day would wrap around me like a vice and strangle every ounce of peace out of me. I would walk the length of the city with Bessie at my side rather than disrupt my wife's sleep as I knew when I closed my eyes, there would be no rest.
Julia frowned but didn't reply. Her fingers found mine and she squeezed my hand tightly.
"I've dreamt of that beach hundreds of times, of standing there with my father. I remember being barely able to touch my toes to the ground with how he held my arm up, how I wanted to ask him to let me go, but I knew better than to make requests," I continued. I remembered hoping he would release me, but in dreams I wished to dive into the water and escape him. "All of these years I never realized it was more than a dream. It didn't make sense to me why he would bring me to the beach when I was not meant to leave the cellar."
"Do you know why he brought you there?"
"No, but I assume it was merely to show my uncle that he had me in his possession, but unfortunately Phelan wasn't told what was said and I don't remember them speaking. I remember being told that if I uttered a sound he would make certain I had a reason to cry later."
Julia appeared truly shaken by my words. "In time perhaps you'll be able to string memories together. Earlier memories. Better memories of you and your brother together."
"And what if that never happens?" I snapped.
Julia searched my eyes. Despite my harsh tone, she still looked at me with more kindness than I felt I deserved. "Then I sincerely hope Phelan and Joshua help fill in the blank spaces."
I grunted in response but held my tongue as my irritation bubbled to the surface. These were more than simple blank spaces; these lost memories remained locked in a place that had no entry. I had been barred from myself in the most maddening fashion and I felt desperate for the answers. No matter how I kicked or clawed for the invisible door to open-or perhaps because I desperately wanted to know there had been something besides fear and hatred-the past eluded me.
"The earliest memory from my childhood is my brother Carlo chasing cattle back onto our property with one of the farmhands after a tree knocked over the fence during a storm. I sat on my mother's lap while they drove cattle back into the pasture, and one of the steers kicked my brother in the head and he pitched to the side and fell in the grass. My mother screamed in a way I had never heard before and pushed me off her lap to run to him. My stomach dropped, and I remember thinking I had just witnessed my brother's death. To this day, when I think of my mother screaming and Carlo falling, I shiver."
"How old were you?"
Julia inhaled and thought a moment. "Carlo was ten so I must have been five."
"He survived the injury, correct?"
Julia nodded. "Knocked out cold, but he made a full recovery thanks to a thick Falschetti skull."
I grunted as we reached the front steps of our home. Restlessness had already started to bite through my peace. I felt it tingling in the tips of my fingers and like static in my hammering heart, this agitation that would not be ignored.
"I know for certain we played from the first light of day until there were fireflies dancing in the field," Julia continued. "I know we had parties outside behind the house in the summer and slept in front of the fire in the winter, but I have no memory of it that wasn't passed down from sisters and brothers who were older. They remembered the details I was too young to recall. Not everything, of course, but enough."
"There is no one alive who would know what happened when he took me," I said remorsefully. The thought made me shudder. Taken. Removed from everything I had known; love, trust, and being wanted despite my deformity. I wanted to believe I had not gone with my father willingly, that I would have looked in his eyes and seen malice and run as fast and as far as I could have until I returned home to the security of the home I shared with my brother. I would have tumbled onto his back and wrestled with him on the floor.
In my heart I could not believe I had willingly left my uncle's home and followed my cruel father. Deeper still I could not fathom that anyone had ever wanted me at all. Every pulse of blood through my veins had been fueled by the undeniable fact that I was a monster to the rest of the world. From birth I had been condemned to a lonely and dark existence. I had survived in order to spite the rest of the world, not because someone had cared enough to save me.
I was not worth saving. Over and over, my father had made certain I knew that I was barely tolerated. I had not been worth anything at all, not unless it involved a paying crowd to gawk at the caged beast or a wealthy sultan purchasing a gift for his beloved daughter. This long-held belief, this rot within my mind, it had kept me alive all of these years. Worthless. Unwanted. Unworthy.
"Erik." Julia grabbed my wrist as I pulled my keys from my pocket and held them tight in my fist. I met her gaze and saw concern in her hazel eyes and realized I was breathing quite hard. I wondered how long I had stood there in silence, held captive by my dark thoughts. "Don't leave late tonight."
"I won't-"
"You will. I know you will. You'll wait until everyone is asleep and take Bessie out at two in the morning. I can see it in your eyes."
"There's nothing to see," I muttered. I looked away from her and stared at the door handle. In my most agitated state, the house felt terribly small and confining, no different from the cage at the traveling fair. We were not inside yet and already I wished to disappear into the night, roam the street like the ghost I had been for so long.
"I'll take Bessie out early and read in the study for the night," I offered.
"Stay with me." Julia rested a gentle hand on my arm.
"I won't sleep," I said quietly.
"I don't care. I would rather have you awake beside me than out alone."
"It's not simply staying awake. You know this," I argued.
"I understand and I don't care."
"I do," I said firmly. "I absolutely care."
Julia shifted her weight. By the look in her eyes, I knew she had not conceded. "Please, don't do this," she whispered. There was desperation in her voice and emotion she could not hide. I knew she had pleaded with Louis when he left her alone for much different reasons. Every time Julia begged Louis to stay, he ignored her. "I cannot force you to stay at home, but I am begging you for my sake and for the sake of our children, don't leave tonight."
"You have my word I will take Bessie out early and spend the rest of the night at home, but I will not make further promises."
Julia nodded, satisfied with my answer. She gripped my shoulder as I turned and unlocked the door with a trembling hand. My chest tightened, the onset of panic undeniably strong. For one brief moment my vision threatened to blur.
"I think I will take Bessie out now," I said.
"They're home!" Lisette yelled from the end of the hall the moment I opened the door.
Her words were followed by Bessie baying, Aria giving off an ungodly screech as the dog stepped on her tail, and two infants wailing in the dining room. If I wanted a distraction from my thoughts, one was provided in the form of utter chaos.
Meg appeared in the doorway, red-faced and flustered by the cacophony while she bounced her screaming daughter in her arms. "Audrey has been inconsolable for the last hour," Meg said. "And now I cannot get Xavier to stop fussing. We returned only a moment ago to look for dice, but…." She took a deep breath that ended in a sob.
"Here," Julia said as she marched down the hall and reached for the screaming infant in Meg's arms. "I'll have her sleeping in no time."
Meg's bottom lip quivered. She appeared haggard, as though she had not slept in many nights-which I assumed she had not given that there were two screaming newborns in need of her attention. Still, she looked unwilling to surrender the baby to Julia's care.
"I've ruined your night," Meg whimpered.
"Not in the least," Julia replied.
Rather than acknowledge my wife's words, Meg looked apologetically at me.
"Where is Madeline?" I asked.
"She went to the drug store to see if they could give Audrey something to stop her crying. Mother said she has never heard a baby cry like this before."
Madeline had clearly forgotten how Alex screamed when he was cutting teeth. He howled with impressive stamina for hours on end, passed from one person in the house to the next without success of soothing him.
Julia finally pulled the screaming child into her arms and Meg covered her face with both hands and shook with the onset of tears.
"Oh, Meg, I apologize for asking you to watch Lissy and Alex," Julia said. "I had no idea Audrey wasn't feeling well."
"Alex and Lissy have been no trouble," Meg replied. "They've tried to help, but Audrey..." Her face crumpled and Julia rubbed Meg's back.
"Why don't you return home and lie down for a while?" Julia suggested.
"I couldn't."
"You most certainly can. Erik is going to take Bessie for her walk and Alex and Lissy will take turns rocking Xavier while I hold Audrey. You return home and I'll bring your twins home by ten."
"But-"
"They will survive two hours without you," Julia promised. "It's no trouble at all. I've missed having a baby in the house, even a screaming one. Please, Meg, I insist. Erik and Bessie will walk you home."
Meg dried her eyes and finally nodded as Bessie ran in circles at the sound of the word walk.
"I'll return for them when you are finished with your walk," Meg offered once Julia rounded up all four children and gathered them in the dining room where she began issuing orders to Lisette and Alex. Already the two infants had calmed considerably.
I stared at Meg for a long moment as I shut the door behind me. "Julia will bring them back when you've had rest," I said.
"But they're crying."
I lifted a brow. "As Alex did, often all night long."
"Not all night."
"He cried until you ran into the nursery in the middle of the night and rescued him. And then again when you put him down in his crib and he wanted you to entertain him. Or have you forgotten how often he woke as an infant? Teething, fevers, late naps...he yelled for you when he heard the branches scraping against his window, a dog barking down the street, your mother singing? Need I continue?"
With her bedroom next to the nursery, Meg was often the first one awake. She swooped in on the nights Alex did not sleep in my room and carried him up and down the hall or whirled him around the study until he fell asleep again. Not once had she seemed annoyed or unwilling to cater to a child who did not belong to her by blood but whom she loved all the same. From a distance I watched her in silence, this young woman who rarely looked me in the eye. So many times I had wanted to thank her for caring for Alex, but she kept her distance and I did the same.
"I am glad there was not two of him," Meg said.
I chuckled at her honesty. "We would have had to organize an intricate system to exchange infants evenly every eight hours had there been multiples."
Meg forced a smile as we reached the corner. She attempted to stifle a yawn, but her exhaustion was quite evident.
"I didn't expect you home from the art show so early. I wouldn't have brought everyone back if I had known."
I shrugged. "It's a small gallery. There was not much to see."
"Phelan Kimmer, he's your immediate family," Meg said. I couldn't tell if it was a question or a statement. "Your real family."
"Related by blood," I replied. "My real family…" I looked at Meg briefly. Her eyes fluttered shut, but she continued walking, albeit not in a straight path. "My real family is going to walk into the bushes if she does not open her eyes."
Meg came to a sudden stop and swayed to her left. Both of her arms shot out for balance and I grabbed her elbow with my free hand and righted her. Again her bottom lip began to quiver.
"I am not a good mother," she said under her breath.
"That is absurd," I grumbled. Seeing as how my tone did nothing to sooth her, I cleared my throat and started over. "You were instrumental in Alexandre's upbringing. Quite honestly, if you had not spent so much time with him, I do not think he would be as content as he is today," I confessed. My hand remained on her elbow despite her walking in a straight line. She did not appear in danger of falling or swaying to the side, but she made no attempt to step away.
"You are saying I spoiled him."
"Yes," I answered dryly. "The highest and most sincere compliment I am capable of giving is that you indeed spoiled my son to the extent that you could not walk through the house without him screaming for your attention."
"May," Meg said under her breath. She smiled at the memory of Alex, unable to properly say her name, shouting May until he was blue in the face. They had been closely bonded from the start, an inseparable pair of laughter, kisses, and grins.
"I did not expect you or Madeline to raise Alex as you did, but now that he is almost nine years of age I cannot imagine the task falling on me alone. You may not have been related to Alex by blood, but you genuinely cared for him. If I'd had someone like you when I was a boy..."
I stopped speaking abruptly and turned away, releasing her in the process and leaving the thought unfinished.
"How old were you when you last saw your brother?" Meg asked quietly.
Her inquiry surprised me. In all the years I had known Meg, she had not once asked a personal question. It was rare that she asked how my music came along.
"I was three and a half."
"Do you remember him?"
Another question I was surprised she asked.
"Not at all."
"And you met our mother when you were thirteen?"
Our mother. I glanced at Meg and saw sincerity in her heavily-lidded blue eyes.
"Twelve, actually. My date of birth is in December."
Meg smiled. "More cake," she teased.
I shrugged. "If my wife allows it."
"In between the time you last saw your brother and the time you met our mother, you-"
"I had my uncle for less than six months, and when he unexpectedly passed I was imprisoned by gypsies for the sake of entertainment. Before that I had a mother who did not acknowledge that I existed and a father whose first instinct upon seeing me was to leave me out in the snow to die."
Meg's eyes turned wide and glassy with remorse. "I never knew."
"And now that you know, what changes?" I snapped. "Are you surprised in the least by my complete lack of caring parents, Madame Lowry?"
Rather than look away, Meg studied me for a long moment as we paused at the hedges on either side of the walking path that led to the front door. The way in which she stared in her doe-eyed, innocent way made me increasingly more self-conscious of my unwarranted ill temper.
"I am surprised that you have a brother," she admitted. "And I am saddened that you have not been reunited until recently." Meg paused and continued to study me. She searched for something I doubted she would find. "Honestly, Mother spoke about the fair once or twice long ago, but she didn't say much and I gathered I was not supposed to ask questions."
I looked away from her, feeling somewhat surprised that despite how close Madeline and Meg remained, Madeline had kept most of my past a secret.
"I do not think I have heard you mention your birth parents, but I understand why you would not want to think of them," Meg continued. She took a careful step closer. "I've always wondered..."
She did not finish her statement. I suppose over the years I had given her much to wonder about.
"Forgive me for speaking harshly," I said under my breath.
Meg merely nodded.
"I meant what I said about Alex," I quickly added before she walked away from me. "He is fortunate to have you in his life and I am as well. I apologize if I did not make that clearer to you all of these years."
"He was easy," she replied softly. There was fondness in her voice when she spoke.
"You have obviously forgotten Alex's true nature. He was terrifyingly small and fragile as a newborn and he grew into an infant with a temper and penchant for slamming his head on my desk. May I remind you, Madame Lowry, that Alex turned into a toddler who fearlessly slid down the banister and jumped off the dresser to see if he could fly?"
"A newborn crying should be the easy part, I suppose."
"I do not believe there is an easy part," I said.
"How did you know what to do for Alex? When he cried? Or when he hurt himself?"
I inhaled. "The instances in which I felt confident of my child-rearing abilities have been few and far between." I shifted my weight. "Time and again I have failed, but despite my shortcomings, I simply wished to provide for Alex in every way I had been denied."
Meg's lower lip began to quiver again. "I am sorry that you-"
"Madeline has also been instrumental, but if you dare say a word to her…"
"We would never hear the end of it." At last Meg chuckled.
"Precisely."
Meg blinked slowly and I feared she would fall asleep standing up.
"Rest," I commanded.
"But the crying-"
"Julia has already made up our minds," I said dryly. "I am confident that we shall survive two crying infants for a handful of hours. I can assure you that if you so much as attempt to retrieve your children this will undoubtedly be my fault and Julia will never let me hear the end of it. For my sake, I suggest you return home and rest. Is that understood?"
At last Meg nodded and stepped nearer. She gently squeezed my wrist. "Thank you."
I nodded and watched her return inside while Bessie pawed at the hedge and dug a shallow hole in the dirt, which she proceeded to sniff until she sneezed.
"Come on," I said as I tugged the leash. With one last sniff-followed by another sneeze-Bessie happily trotted at my side, tail gently swaying back and forth with each step. "You'll be content with a short walk tonight, won't you?" I asked.
Bessie answered with another sneeze, then stuck her nose to the ground and led the way down the street.
Our normal route consisted of walking through the park, which took us past the gallery and all of the shops and cafes that were closed for the night when we normally set off well past midnight. The entire walk, depending on how many smells Bessie detected, took anywhere from sixty to ninety minutes. The shorter walk, however, was roughly twenty minutes and took us toward the abandoned Opera House.
Despite the difference in length, Bessie still eagerly pulled forward at the prospect of new smells along our route. I smiled inwardly as her ears dragged along the cobblestones.
I reserved the shorter route for nights when it was raining, bitterly cold, or I was simply in need of a short break from my music in order to clear my thoughts.
There were typically more gendarmes in the part of the city surrounding the Opera House as several streets past the crumbling structure there were seedy taverns, darker alleyways, and garishly painted women in brothel windows and doorways. The air had the acrid scent of trouble; a mix of perspiration, cheap perfume, spilled ale, and stale cigarette smoke along with the underlying stench of distant slaughterhouses and coal burning factories.
Despite the extra gendarmes about, none of the patrols took much interest in a man out for a walk with a Basset hound. Every so often we were greeted with a nod and a muttered, "Evening," before they went back to smoking their cigarettes or whistling down the street.
"Shall we return home and rescue Julia?"
Bessie lifted her nose from the ground, tongue lolling from the side of her mouth with uncontainable canine mirth. I truly wondered how Bessie interpreted everything I uttered into something joyful as she never seemed disappointed when I spoke to her.
"You are much better than a bird," I said to my faithful companion as we neared our turnaround point.
"Is that so, Kire?"
I turned on my heel and discovered Phelan some twenty paces behind me with his arms crossed and eyes narrowed. He looked inconvenienced-an expression that seemed typical for him now that we had been acquainted several times.
"It is absolutely so," I answered.
To my surprise, my brother laughed.
