Ch 73

Madeline was the only person who had known of me during those dreadfully long and humiliating months in which I had been imprisoned by the gypsies. I had estimated that in ten months with six shows a day over six days a week that seven to ten thousand people had viewed me. Thousands of men, women and children had walked through the tents to watch Garouche strut around the cage and rattle the bars until he had the crowd salivating for fresh blood.

Thousands of people over a ten month period gaped at me in the last tent, and amongst them was quite possibly Amelie's brother Jean-Marcus. The thought made me shudder.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I said dismissively.

"The gypsies," he said, taking a step toward me as though somehow his words would jar my memory. "You traveled with them."

I shook my head. "No."

"That is how you had access to the jewelry."

"It is nothing of the sort."

He stared impassively at me. "Did the gypsies know that you took the jewelry? That you stole it back from them?"

I had been found immediately sneaking back into the tent, but it had been a week before they realized some of their treasure was missing. It hadn't mattered whether they knew it was me or not as they assumed I was behind the jewelry and a considerable amount of funds missing-funds that I considered rightfully mine as they obtained a decent amount of their wealth with me in chains. I had nearly gone from a living corpse to a very dead corpse once Garouche picked through all of the wagons and came up empty-handed.

"As I have said-"

"Did you go willingly with them after your uncle passed away?"

"No," I said sharply. "I went to Paris, as you are aware."

He stayed quiet for a moment, weighing my words.

"I suppose you know everything about me?" I asked dryly.

"Not everything."

I grunted in response. "There is nothing to know, I assure you."

"I saw the banners for the traveling fair," he blurted out at last. "Three months after you left here there were advertisements for their exhibits. They stopped outside of Rouen for several nights."

My heart stuttered. I wondered if Amelie knew what had happened, if she knew of my shameful past. I had no desire to speak to her or anyone else in the Bastiste family of the fair or the Opera House.

"Why were you in Rouen?" I countered.

"Looking for you."

My eyes narrowed. I didn't believe him, not even for a heartbeat. If he had bothered looking for me at all, I didn't want to be found by him. In truth I didn't want to be found by anyone. "Of course you were," I dryly muttered.

"At Amelie's insistence," he said, his voice rising with impatience. "Marie looked around the surrounding areas and asked our neighbors for weeks while Amelie asked if we might travel to Rouen and see if you passed through as it is the closest city of decent size where you might have spent a night or two before making your way to Paris. She begged me to take her so that she could search for you."

"And what did you find?"

"The promise of a boy sired by the devil himself, a half-man, half-creature on display."

"With a spade tail and horns, I presume?"

"On the banners, yes." Jean-Marcus looked sharply at me. "But inside the tent, it was a boy bound in chains and contained within an iron cage fit for a rabid beast. There was a sack over the child's head and he was little more than flesh stretched over bones, so thin it was a wonder he was alive at all, though I suppose that added to the description of a living corpse. And the welts?" He ruefully shook his head. "When the gypsy grabbed his club and stood over the boy, I turned away."

His description made me involuntarily shudder. With my eyes squeezed shut and hands shielding my head from the blows, I never truly knew if anyone averted their eyes when Garouche struck me. The amount of patrons goading him on made me believe that the crowd demanded blood and humiliation, both of which they received each time.

"I saw your face in the end, after the gypsy clubbed you until you stopped writhing in the straw. Everyone saw."

My blood ran cold. Dozens of times I had peered through the bars and imagined Amelie looking back at me. My eyes would lose focus, my mind would drift, and I would imagine her standing beside me, telling me to quit daydreaming so that I could help her feed Moon and go about our chores for the day. I would wake up one day, I told myself, and find that I had simply dozed off in the barn and the horrors I survived daily were simply nightmares and nothing more. Foolishly I hoped for safety and acceptance, and week after week I remained trapped in hell.

"Amelie saw this?" I asked, unable to muster my full voice.

Jean-Marcus shook his head. "I didn't let her travel to Rouen."

I momentarily relaxed my clenched fists, thankful Amelie had not been amongst the crowd. I did not want her to know of what had happened after I left Tormage, to see me bound and beaten for entertainment. I assumed she would think less of me, that she would see me as a monster instead of a boy.

"And I never told Amelie or Marie what I saw," he added. "Amelie...she would have been broken hearted."

"And you? Were you satisfied with what you saw?" I asked as I stared him down. "The devil's son caged at last and unable to hurt anyone?"

Jean-Marcus bowed his head. "I was ashamed."

"For what?" I angrily questioned.

"Because I told you never to return," he said.

I narrowed my eyes. "I beg your pardon?"

"Because that was not-"

"Papa! Come see Eclipse!" Lisette yelled.

"Eclipse and Bessie are friends!" Alex added.

"Not another word," I said through my teeth. I took one last look at Jean-Marcus before I turned and walked out the door and nearly into Lisette.

"You are missing everything!" Lisette scolded.

"My sincerest apologies," I said.

With an exasperated sigh, Lisette took off running along the fence line toward the barn with Alex racing behind her. Amelie stood several feet away and smiled.

"The pack is on the table," she said.

"I am grateful to your family for keeping it safe all of these years. I look forward to seeing the contents this evening when we're settled at the inn."

"Jean-Marcus, did he-"

"He's still inside," I said before Amelie finished.

She pursed her lips, her eyes momentarily searching mine before she nodded at last.

Awkwardly I turned away from Amelie, hoping to avoid whatever inquiry was on her mind. Marie and Julia's laughter drew my attention, and the sight of the two of them clinging to one another as they enjoyed each other's company made me smile. It reminded me of the dozens of instances I watched Julia and Meg in the garden, the two of them constantly caught giggling like carefree ballet dancers. Further down toward the barn, Bessie ran along the fence while two beasts of burden trotted along, bucking and braying at the dog.

"I've taught Eclipse tricks," Amelie said as she came up beside me. "She's not as talented as Moon-or rather, she's not as obedient."

"Moon? Obedient?" I asked incredulously.

"Why do you say it like that?" Amelie asked, placing her hand on her hip as though I had greatly offended a member of her family. "Moon was incredible. Her ears would prick forward and she would listen to every word I said. Everyone loved her and she loved everyone."

"Not everyone. She disliked my uncle."

Amelie raised a brow. "She did?"

"She would listen to me, but she would flatten her ears and attempt to bite him."

Amelie gasped dramatically. "Shame on her."

"I will compensate your family for the burden of carrying for her more than two months-and for the unexpected addition of another animal."

Amelie threw her head back and laughed. "You will compensate us with a private performance, just as you did that one night long ago."

"That would suffice?"

"Of course it would. The Erik Kire performing here at our home? All of Tormage will speak of this for years."

I chuckled to myself. "A handful of songs will make up for my trollop of a pet donkey?"

Amelie gasped and shook her finger at me. "Moon was no trollop! She was a very fine four-legged lady. True, it was a very big surprise to wake up one morning and find Eclipse, but I'll have you know I was thrilled. Moon gave birth to Eclipse on my birthday."

"I can think of nothing more flattering than a donkey born on one's birthday."

Amelie looked at me from the corner of her eye and grinned. "I always knew you would understand my excitement. And I wanted to write to you, to tell you all about Eclipse, but you didn't respond to my first letter. Or my second. By the third I was certain you had settled into your new home and forgotten about our dull little town and it's unexciting people."

My lips parted and I stammered for the correct response. "I...I apologize, Amelie, it was nothing of the sort."

"I have twenty years of Moon stories to tell you in three days," Amelie said as she approached the fence and reached over to pat one of the two donkeys standing on the opposite side. "And as you are aware, I am perfectly capable of chatting for three days straight."

"Three days of talking?" Marie said. "You still have time to leave, Erik."

"Never," I answered. "I've prepared three day's worth of nodding."

Marie grinned back. "Let's see if you survive today."

"Marie, did you show Alex and Lisette their tricks?" Amelie asked.

"Of course not," Marie replied. "Steal your thunder? Never."

Amelie cleared her throat. "Eclipse," she called as she reached into a wooden bucket and picked up a carrot. She tapped the vegetable against her palm three times. "How many days are Alex and Lisette staying in town?"

The beast stamped her right foot three times, which caused Alex and Lisette to break out into astonished applause.

"She is brilliant!" Alex said. "What else does she know?"

"Oh, my. You want to see more tricks?" Amelie asked.

"Yes, please!"

Amelie smiled. "One more trick for now." She whistled and said, Eclipse, dance."

The animal took two several steps backwards and then pranced forward.

"She's better than some of the ballet dancers I've seen over the years," I said.

"Bessie, we have work to do when we return home," Alex said as he patted our dog on the head. "Eclipse knows more than you. Uncle Charles must allow you to study with us from now on so that you learn arithmatic."

"What is the name of the other donkey?" Lisette asked as she reached through the fence and patted the other animal on its side. A cloud of dust came up from the donkey's mane and Lisette turned her face away. "Oh, she's so filthy! I love her so much!"

"This is Dria. Marie purchased her ten years ago so Eclipse wouldn't be lonely. She loves to roll in dirt and kick over buckets of treats."

"She is naughty! I love her even more!" Lisette said.

I reached through the fence and stroked Eclipse's white muzzle down to her black nose. Her ears twitched, her velvety lips searching my open palm for treats. Soft, dark eyes met mine, and I remembered how much I had enjoyed simply running my fingers through Moon's mane or scratching her sides. I had found peace in caring for her, in sharing an apple or putting my arms around her neck as she leaned into me.

The scars on her hind end were unspoken momentos of cruelty she had endured before we met, but she trusted me and I trusted her. I had whispered my deepest secrets into her large ears and had laughed every time she pushed me with her head, demanding the treats she knew I carried. Despite her insistence when it came to food, I could not imagine whipping or kicking her as punishment.

"You are the spitting image of Moon," I murmured.

"Moon was very happy here," Amelie said. "She told me often with a swish of her tail or a nuzzle against the back of my neck."

"I am confident that she did." A rush of memories swirled within me. I was grateful Moon had been allowed a home where she grew old and died peacefully rather than being worked to death and mistreated.

Amelie handed me half a carrot, which I fed to Eclipse. "She has Moon's personality. Very sweet with a dash of impatience when she's not fed fast enough."

Bessie stood with her front paws on the lowest board of the fence and stuck her head through the opening, giving Eclipse the opportunity to lick her several times before I pulled on the dog's collar.

"Bessie has dirt and saliva on her nose!" Lisette shrieked. "Oooh, I love being on holiday!"

"Oh, Lissy," Julia groaned.

"Perhaps tomorrow if your mother and father agree you can ride Eclipse and Dria around the old orchard," Marie said.

Immediately Lisette and Alex turned to me, their eyes large and pleading for the opportunity to ride.

"We will see," I said.

My words immediately deflated both of them.

"But," Julia said. "If you eat all of your supper and are quiet at bedtime, I'm sure you're father will consider it."

"He may even ride with you," Amelie teased.

Amelie and Marie led us around the perimeter of the orchard behind the house. The unpaved trail looped around past the vegetable garden where Bessie attempted to walk through, but one whistle from me and she trotted to my side and followed along with her tail wagging. Late night walks through the park where I allowed her off leash as a pup provided useful, and although she lagged behind or loped ahead, she never strayed far.

Our carriage returned shortly after we returned to the house. Amelie ran inside and grabbed the pack, which she handed to me before we rode to the inn located off the center square in town.

For the life of me I couldn't recall the name of the inn my uncle and I had stayed in for the night, but I was certain we pulled up to the same building. The new owners-a younger man and his wife-made a point of saying that they normally would not allow a dog inside the rooms, but given that they had a brand new phonograph and two tins with my music set up in their lobby, they had made an exception. They grinned profusely, mentioning that it had been months since they'd had anyone of interest staying the night.

Amelie had reserved adjoining rooms for us, which Alex pointed out was a quarter of the size of his room at home and considerably smaller than the rooms at the Leach Estate and not nearly as decorative. The night at the estate in Roeun had clearly spoiled him.

"When do we eat?" Lisette asked.

"We return to the Batiste home in two hours," Julia answered as she rummaged through the trunks and set out clothing for everyone. "Madame Amelie and Madame Marie are making supper for us."

"Will Monsieur Batiste be at supper?" Alex asked.

Julia looked over her shoulder at Alex. "I'm not sure, my dear."

"I liked him," Alex said. "He was very nice."

Julia stood upright and placed her hands on her hips. "Why don't we look around for the next hour while your father looks through his uncle's old belongings?" she suggested. "You'll work up a better appetite."

Both children agreed with some reluctance, clearly interested in seeing what the pack contained.

"Will you tell us what your uncle said?" Lisette asked.

I had carefully flipped through a few of the pages while Julia shut the trunks and made sure they were prepared for a walk around Tormage. "If I am able to read it. There is quite a bit of damage."

Lisette frowned. "You will be able to read it," she assured me, adding a gentle pat to my left shoulder.

I appreciated her optimism, and once they stepped out and left me alone with Bessie, I removed my mask and scanned the first pages of my uncle's leather bound journal, unable to make out more than a handful of words on molded, fragile pages where the ink had long ago bled and made the lines illegible.

I looked up from the journal at the small room with its landscape paintings and striped papered walls and attempted to remember how it had looked the night we had stayed.

Many small memories had been forgotten, details that in the moment seemed inconsequential. We had talked for hours every night no matter if I grated on his last nerve during the day or if we had happily traveled along desolate roads from dawn until sundown.

I had thought my uncle would be beside me forever, a permanent fixture in my life. After years spent alone, I had convinced myself that I was finally part of a family, finally wanted. I no longer needed to grieve the absence of my mother and the cruelty of my father; we would settle in Paris and I would meet my uncle's sons. At last I would have what I had always been denied. At last I would be wanted and loved.

His death had stolen that perfect future from me. Hatred had accompanied my mourning, and I was ashamed to admit how much I had loathed my uncle for dying when I needed him the most.

I carefully turned another page and the ink was not as distorted, the words more easily deciphered. He wrote about fishing lines and storms at sea, and I held my breath, hoping that the next few pages would be the same.

A dozen pages in and my uncle mentioned my cousins and his wife. He'd filled half the page with worries of how he would provide for his family and talk of his infant son being unthrifty. The last two trips out to sea had been unsuccessful and his hand was still healing but fairly useless as he'd lost two fingers and broken his wrist in a fishing accident when a rope snapped. The children were hungry. The garden was bare. His wife was worried and he was frustrated and questioning his worth.

My uncle had not consistently documented his life, and as I turned the pages, several months had passed and his youngest son was deceased. Much of what my uncle wrote was nonsense, which I assumed was a product of his grief. He spoke of the heartache of losing his son, of not knowing how to console his eldest child or his wife. The loss was beyond young Joshua's comprehension and his wife retracted deep into her own misery.

And then the tragedy of losing a child became worse when his wife passed, leaving him as a single father to a young sun. He dedicated a single sentence to his wife's passing.

The love of my life is gone.

I flipped through more pages where the water damage was not evident aside from the crinkled edges that sometimes blurred the margins. I casually scanned the contents, most of which revolved around nights spent at the tavern with his son sitting by the fireplace at his feet until late in the evening when he finally returned home. His handwriting was difficult to read, a combination of missing two fingers and most likely far too much to drink. I was about to close the journal whenl I saw my name.

I will never return them to my bastard of a brother. Phelan I should have taken at birth. Erik, God bless this child, may not survive the night. He is weak. So very weak from hunger and cold as a corpse.

I went back a page after realizing I hadn't paid much mind to the contents and read of how my uncle saw my father engaged in a scuffle. My uncle left the tavern and found us shivering and half starved. He claimed to have asked my mother if he could watch us for a while and she made no reply.

I thought for certain the little one was already dead. He was blue tinged and cold to the touch, but Phelan is a feisty one and did everything in his power to keep his baby brother alive. There is Kimmer blood in Phelan's veins, to be sure. He fought me all the way home, but I will not give up on him. Feral, that boy, but there is hope for him.

Yes, I wanted to tell him, help my brother.

Months were missing in between. My uncle wrote of the frost finally letting up and spring flowers in the woods popping up through the snow. He spoke of my cousin and brother playing together and of my brother always stopping to pick me up the moment I began to cry. The little one, he called me. Phelan had evidently given me a name, but I couldn't tell if it was before we were taken from our parents' home or after we had lived with our uncle for a time.

It's been five months now and Phelan will never forget that he is to protect the baby. The slightest sound out of the little one's mouth and Phelan is at his brother's side. He does not wait for me to take the baby from the cradle. No, Phelan takes his brother out and immediately seeks to comfort him. It is only after a bit of persuasion that he will give his brother to me. I am grateful that in our family these three boys will grow together. Seeing them interact, sometimes I miss Bjorn. Most times I don't.

I started to turn the page when the door to our room opened and Julia stepped inside.

"Alex and Lisette found two other children their age who wanted to play," she said before I asked. She crossed the room and drew back the curtain. "I can see them from here."

"Good," I said.

"How far are you into the journal?"

"A third of the way."

Julia looked over her shoulder. "You've read more than I expected."

"The first twenty pages or so were not in suitable condition."

Julia allowed the curtain to fall back into place. "What about the letters?"

I looked from her to the envelopes stacked beside the leather pack and frowned. "I haven't looked through them yet."

"Alex and Lissy have ten more minutes. Would you like me to give you more time?"

I took the letters and placed them in between the pages where I had stopped reading in the journal and closed the cover.

"There isn't much yet," I said with a sigh.

"It looks like you have plenty of pages left," Julia said.

"Your optimism never ceases to amaze me," I mumbled. "You and Lisette."

Julia came up behind me and wrapped her arms around my neck. "We want what's best for you."

I reached for her hand and kissed the backs of her fingers. "I'm starving."

"This should tide you over," my wife said as she placed a pear hand pie on the table and patted my shoulder.

"Sweets before supper?" I asked as I raised a brow. "What strange and generous spirit inhibits my wife?"

Julia offered a sly smile. "We are on holiday."

She left and returned moments later with our two red-faced children. Alex stayed with me in our half of the adjoined rooms and changed clothing for supper while Lisette followed Julia into the other room.

The carriage arrived ten minutes late, which felt like an eternity thanks to Alex making certain we were aware that he was hungry and liable to starve to death.

When we finally arrived mere moments after Alex dramatically slumped over against the window, we discovered Marie and Amelie had decorated a long table behind the house with large, glass candle holders and a moss green runner. Freshly picked flowers adorned two vases in the middle on either side of a wicker bowl with pears and apples. It looked like scenery waiting to be painted, and I thought of how Claude would have most likely added a unicorn on stilts to the background.

"I hope you don't mind Bessie," Julia said as she followed Marie toward the house. "The innkeeper said we cannot leave her behind in the room."

"She's more than welcome, particularly if she chases the rabbits away," Amelie said. "The children are welcome too if they set the table."

Alex and Lisette exchanged looks, then ran inside to help Julia and Marie. They returned with a basket of utensils and napkins, which they placed around the table.

"We've walked through the park almost every night for the last year, and as much as Bessie follows her nose, she's never caught a rabbit," I said to Amelie.

"Surely she has seen plenty."

"Rabbits, squirrels, and the occasional stray cat."

"What did she do the first time she saw a rabbit?" Amelie asked.

"She ran back to me," I answered.

"Is she aware that she is a hound dog?"

"Apparently not. The moment the rabbit moved, she yelped and turned tail. I'd never seen her run so fast in my life. I ended up carrying her home."

"You did not."

"I did."

Bessie had practically jumped into my arms to avoid being eaten by a wild rabbit. At the time she was a decent size, far too large to be comfortably carried, and yet I had hefted her into my arms and walked with her against my chest until we were out of the park and safely on the street. I had known far too much fear in my life to force her to walk beside me. She trusted me from the moment she came into my home and I would not betray her.

Amelie laughed as she placed silverware around the place settings. "The life of a city dog."

"She was the unwanted runt of the litter," I said as Bessie ran back and forth along the fence line, apparently in search of the donkeys. "Given that she has no hunting instincts whatsoever and neither do I, she is a perfect fit for our home."

"What I remember most about you, more than you playing the violin, is how much you loved Moon. I'm not surprised you saved a sweet hound. What does surprise me is she doesn't stray far."

"Impeccable training," I boasted.

Amelie chuckled. "Who would have ever guessed E.M, Kire is not only a famous composer, but a trainer of hounds."

Bessie bayed, and I heard footsteps over the gravel edging around the side of the house. She rounded the corner a moment later with Jean-Marcus behind her. He reached down, stroking her back before she took off again toward the barn.

It came as no surprise that Jean-Marcus was invited to supper. He glanced briefly at me, waved to Amelie, and disappeared through the back door where Alex enthusiastically greeted him.

Lisette appeared a moment later carefully clutching the angel figuring Alex had sent by post to Amelie. She placed it on the center of the table and took a step back.

"Madame Amelie said I could display the figurine as long as I was careful," she said as she leaned forward and gave the statue the slightest nudge with her fingertip.

A moment later, Alex held the door open for Julia, Marie and Amelie, who carried out different dishes of food. Jean-Marcus followed behind with his mother clutching his arm.

"I want Alexandre seated next to me," Madame Batiste announced as she sat at one end of the table.

"I am here, Madame," Alex said as he slid into the seat at her left and reached for her hand.

The Batiste family served a meal of rabbit with dijon mustard, a mixture of vegetables, bread fresh from the oven, and a cheese curd tart for dessert that Marie cut into generous slices. Alex gave the last bite of his to Bessie, who thumped her tail against my leg in delight of her gourmet scraps.

Jean-Marcus sat back once he finished eating and lit a cigarette. He held out an engraved cigarette holder toward me, and I declined with a shake of my head. Jean-Marcus shrugged and took a drag as he eyed the angel figurine at the center of the table.

"Why the dove?" he asked to no one in particular.

"All of the angels in the store had doves," Lisette answered. "I found a hummingbird for Mother and an angel for your sister."

"I would expect an angel with a violin," Jean-Marcus said. The end of the cigarette glowed orange as he puffed on the cigarette. "An angel of...music."

Beside me, Julia straightened her posture, but I kept my gaze trained on Jean-Marcus as he exhaled smoke through his nose. Breath held, I waited for him to direct a smug look in my direction, a knowing expression in his eyes that he knew of more of my past than simply the traveling fair.

"Angels only have harps or horns," Lisette said matter-of-factly. "And doves."

"Is that so?" Jean-Marcus asked.

Lisette nodded. "That's all Papa Milo's carried."

"It's a beautiful gift," Amelie said. "And I'm honored you and your father thought of me, Lisette."

"All angels are beautiful," Lisette said. She looked at Amelie and smiled. "And kind. That's what makes them angels."

Amelie places her hand over her heart. "I remember when my daughters were as sweet as you."

"Where are your children?" Julia asked as she turned to Amelie, who was seated on her other side.

"Most likely destroying my home." Jean-Marcus rolled the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger before he flicked the ash off the end. "When all eight of them are together, they tend to create chaos."

Alex's eyes widened. "Madame Amelie has eight children?"

Amelie grinned at Alex, amused by his question. Her expression reminded me of the way Meg smiled and laughed at my son and his perpetual need to ask questions. "Goodness, no. I have two very sweet and well-behaved daughters. Marie and Jean-Marcus are responsible for the rest of the devils."

"Alex," Madame Batiste said. "Would you escort me inside? I'm tired and it's chilly."

"May I walk you inside too?" Lisette asked.

"Of course." Madame Batiste pushed her chair back and held out one hand to Alex. Once she stood and Alex took her hand, she reached out to Lisette, who eagerly took her place opposite her brother. "Keep me company until your father plays the violin."

"Amelie spoke of you quite often," Jean-Marcus said once Alex and Lisette had his mother inside. His gaze was distant, the cigarette in his hand burnt down nearly to his fingertips. "The boy with the violin."

"Of course she spoke of him," Marie said as she took a sip of her wine. "He was so talented. And perhaps a little...arrogant."

"I beg your pardon?" I groused.

Marie held up her index finger as she offered explanation. "You strolled into Tormage and had the audacity to tell me I sang through my nose."

I furrowed my brow. "My apologies, I have no recollection of being so..."

"Truthful?" Amelie said. "You were correct back then and it holds true to this day."

"Not true at all. Besides, no one in church complains," Marie said.

"They're tone deaf," Jean-Marcus said under his breath.

Marie stuck her tongue out at her brother and pretended to pout as she crossed her arms. "How dare you treat your favorite sister so horribly."

"Favorite?" Jean-Marcus and Amelie said in unison.

Julia chuckled to herself. "You remind me of my siblings. We haven't been together in many years."

"We're rarely apart," Amelie said. "I'll pay you ten francs to take both of them."

The table erupted in laughter. I sat back and listened as Julia easily conversed with Amelie and her siblings around the table. Marie passed a bottle of wine to Jean-Marcus, who filled his cup, lit another cigarette, and passed the bottle to Amelie. Within minutes I blended into the background.

My relationship with Madeline had rarely been one of playful banter and gentle teasing. She had stumbled upon me at a time in which I was far too broken to withstand such treatment, no matter how good the intentions. I wondered what sort of conversations I would have had with my brother and cousin if we had grown up together, if I would have offered to exchange my brother for Amelie's sister.

"Erik?" Julia nudged me in the arm and I sat upright and turned to face her. "Amelie asked you a question."

I inhaled sharply. "I apologize."

"You were meeting your...cousins, correct?" Amelie asked. "When you traveled to Paris originally?"

"My cousin and brother," I said.

Amelie blinked at me. "Oh, I see. And then your mother and sister?"

I realized I had missed out on a seemingly large portion of the conversation.

"Adoptive," I answered, hoping that would be explanation enough.

"Oh," Amelie said. "I didn't realize..."

"Amelie, why don't you allow your old friend to play the violin rather than suffer through your interrogation?" Jean-Marcus suggested. He raised a brow and turned his attention toward Marie. "And you. No singing."