Ch 78

Alex and Lisette took turns enthusiastically telling Julia about their ride around the Batiste farm, which was followed by picking a bushel of apples to be pressed and bottled on our final day in Tormage.

They were both red-faced and grinning after an afternoon spent working on the farm, however, being that neither of them had ever brushed out a donkey, collected chicken eggs, or picked fruit off a tree, everyday farm chores were quite exciting.

"May we pick more apples tomorrow?" Alex had asked Amelie as he grabbed an apple from the bushel and took a bite.

"You may stay the rest of the season," Amelie teased. "I'll return you to your parents in November. How does that sound?"

"I think my Aunt Meg would miss me," Alex answered.

As if their day on the farm could not possibly be any more enjoyable, Amelie had them both scrub as much dirt and leaves off as possible in a water basin before she had them follow her out back barefoot and lean forward. On the count of three, she proceeded to dump a bucket of water on their heads, which resulted in Alex laughing while Lisette shrieked in delight. Once they were sufficiently drenched, they ran into the kitchen bundled in towels and stripped out of their borrowed clothes with Julia's assistance and returned into the parlor beaming and in their regular clothes.

"I would like to bathe with a bucket of water from now on," Alex announced. His hair was still damp, the curls clinging to his forehead. "Father, it is very refreshing."

"And cold!" Lisette added.

We were almost back into town when Alex and Lisette spotted a few children they had played with the previous day and ran to say hello.

"Next summer, I would like to return to Genoa for a holiday," Julia said once the children were out of earshot. "I haven't seen my sisters or the family farm since Lissy was four."

"You would take the children?" I asked.

"I would like for all of us to travel," Julia answered. She looked down at Bessie, who stared up at her expectantly. "Of course you as well. Erik would never leave you behind."

I remained silent for a long moment, mulling over her suggestion. "Would Max approve of us visiting?"

"Max doesn't live in Genoa. Lucia and Geneva have no reason to tell him we would be on holiday."

"I would prefer if they traveled to see us," I replied.

Julia didn't argue. "They've never been to Paris."

"What about Rouen?" I asked.

Julia smiled and clutched my arm. "For the summer?"

I shrugged. "We would have ample room if we purchased a summer villa."

"And the extra help would be beneficial."

"We would have whatever size staff you found suitable."

"I meant I would like the extra help should we be blessed with an addition to our family. And rather than a nanny, I would prefer my sisters if even for a few months."

I came to an abrupt stop and stared at her. "Are you…?"

Julia immediately shook her head. "It's too early to tell. But I would like to think that we are expecting a new little life."

The very thought made my heart and mind race. I searched her eyes for some sign that she carried another heart, one that we had created together. The very thought still very much terrified me, but in the same instance, I could not help but entertain the possibility.

"Your brother and cousin could visit," Julia said. "And of course Madeline, Meg and Charles and the twins would stay for the summer."

"We have not yet purchased property and already you've filled up the house."

Julia leaned in closer and whispered, "I cannot help it if I've imagined our future together."

"What else have you imagined?"

Julia did not hesitate when she answered. "All of the Kire children, dressed in their finest clothes and on their best behavior, sitting in the theater to watch their father conduct a performance as he does every year."

"I suppose Bessie is not involved in these outings?"

Julia snorted with laughter. "Well, I must tear my husband away from his beloved dog every so often so that he remembers his adoring wife."

I didn't voice my opinion aloud, but I was fairly certain if I asked Antonio Le Blanc to allow Bessie into the theater he would have agreed in order to appease my demands. I could see her proudly seated beside our wide-eyed children, her head tilted to the side as she listened to the orchestra play. Much to the amusement of the audience, I suspected she would throw back her head and offer a hearty hound dog howl of approval. Some afternoons, when I was uncertain that the composition I toiled over truly was worth submitting, Bessie offered her approval by way of a long howl and thump of her tail.

"Do I have a say in any of the details?" I grumbled, my voice not nearly as stern or as irritated as I had intended.

"You will think you do," Julia teased.

"You are most amusing."

"What have you imagined for our family?" Julia asked. Her hand slid into mine with such ease, as though our fingers were meant to entwined, our palms meant to rest against one another. Every time I clasped her delicate hand, my insides fluttered followed by a calm I never knew existed that filled the emptiness of far too much time spent alone. I knew without a doubt that I would never tire of Julia's smile when she looked at me or the heat of her body and the scent of her perfume when she was near.

"I imagine sleeping on the edge of our bed from now until eternity."

Julia gasped in feigned horror. "You most certainly do not."

"I suppose tonight I will be sleeping beside Bessie at the foot of the bed if I do not better explain myself."

"Or on a bench in the town square," Julia grumbled.

"Nearly every night I wake with you pressed to me," I said. "My arm is pins and needles and I fear the slightest movement will wake you and so I remain motionless."

"That sounds miserable," Julia said. "You should have said something. I would gladly give you more room."

"I prefer my arm going numb to sleeping in the center of an empty bed." I turned to Julia and kissed the shell of her ear. "And if those aspirations are not lofty enough for my insatiable wife, then I will tell you I see another child on your lap, bouncing and laughing as I play the violin."

"That sounds lovely," Julia said with a dreamy sigh. "But tell me, do you see us with a son or a daughter?" Julia asked. She squeezed my hand tighter and grinned. "Or one of each?"

"You are not very subtle," I groused.

"I always imagined Lissy growing up with siblings close in age like I did. I never wanted her to grow up as an only child."

"She was hardly alone."

Julia frowned. "I simply meant I would like two more children close in age. Alex and Lissy will always have each other, and they adore Charles and Meg's twins, but Lissy is almost ten and Alex will be nine and I doubt they will be interested in entertaining a child ten years younger."

I inhaled. "You've put considerable thought into increasing the size of our family."

"Father!" Alex shouted before Julia answered. "Look! It's Solan's!"

We were almost to the inn when I looked from Julia to my son, who enthusiastically pointed across the town square at a buttery yellow building with two large, rectangular boxes of the same shade overflowing with various flowers on either side of the door. The name of the store was displayed across the entrance in white letters that matched smaller print painted on the large windows of the clothing store.

There were two Solan's locations near our home and a total of four throughout Paris. In recent years several other stores had popped up across France with a catalog in circulation for those who preferred ordering via post. Meg had subscribed to their mailings along with at least a dozen other businesses selling snake oils, elixirs, and various other items she didn't need but often ordered. I was certain Meg Lowry kept Solan's in business for at least the last five years, if not the better part of a decade considering her ample collection of gloves, hats, and boots that she swore were the best in all of Europe.

"May we look inside?" Lisette asked.

"I doubt they allow dogs," I answered.

"Why don't you take Bessie back to the room and I'll look with Lissy?" Julia suggested.

Before I could ask Alex if he wanted to return with me, the bell above the door chimed and Alex waltzed into the store and directly to a young lady straightening the clothing on a display. By the way he gestured, I assumed he asked the clerk if dogs were in fact allowed inside the shop.

A moment later, he dashed to the door and shouted, "She said Bessie cannot come inside!"

I looked down at Bessie, who forlornly stared up at me before she glanced across the street at the inn, then up at me again. Her mind was clearly made up, as was mine. I watched Julia and Lisette enter the store before I reached into my waistcoat pocket to make certain I had the key to our room.

The innkeeper's wife followed us up the stairs with a silver tray of cheese, salami, and grapes, which she said were compliments of the Ruby Pony.

"I am not familiar with the Ruby Pony," I said as I unleashed Bessie and sampled a piece of hard cheese.

"Oh, it's a wonderful theater," the innkeeper's wife said as she straightened the tray on the service cart, took a step back, then straightened it again. "We are very proud to have our own stage in Tormage."

I furrowed my brow. Not a single building in Tormage seemed large enough to house a theater. "Where is it located?" I asked.

"Next to our inn," she answered.

The building adjacent to the inn was a tavern with a modest two-story addition attached to the back that I had assumed was the owner's residence. "How many does it seat?"

She thought a moment, counting on her fingers. "I would say...thirty? With enough room in the back for at least another fifteen people."

The opera houses of Paris, Prague, New York, and Vienna seated hundreds of people whereas the Ruby Pony could entertain less than fifty. Given that the population of Tormage, it was not a surprise that the theater was so small, yet I was still largely unimpressed.

"What was last performed at the theater?" I asked.

The woman finally stopped straightening the tray and took a step back where she straightened her skirt. "Paulo and Marie," she answered.

"Is that a play or an opera?" I asked.

"Those are their names." She gave me a strange look. "You are visiting the Batiste family, no?"

"You mean Marie as in Marie Batiste?" I asked.

She nodded readily. "The very one. She has a lovely voice and her husband is a very good pianist. They perform the first and third Friday every month at eight in the evening."

"Tomorrow night, then?"

"Yes. Perhaps you and your family would like to stay one more night?" she asked as she reached the door.

"We will consider your offer," I said.

The innkeeper's wife thanked me and closed the door. Bessie shifted her weight and whined until I offered her a piece of salami, which she gulped down before she pranced in a circle and begged for cheese.

"The Ruby Pony feeds you well," I sighed, sharing my cheese with the dog. She clearly had trained me quite well to give her treats on command, I mused.

I placed the tray of food onto the chest of drawers, which was considerably higher than the service cart and out of the reach of a stout but long dog who was quite capable of stealing her own snacks.

Once the innkeeper's wife was well down the hallway, I removed my mask and wiped my face with my handkerchief. For the last few weeks while at home I had not worn the mask consistently, and I had nearly forgotten how cumbersome and uncomfortable the painted leather felt against my face, particularly following a day spent outside in late summer.

With the food out of the way, Bessie curled up by my feet while I reached into the pack Amelie had given me and rifled through the contents. I grabbed the stack of letters I had not yet opened and realized that they were not addressed to me exclusively, but also to my cousin and brother.

I turned the first one addressed to My Beloved Joshua over in my hand. The bottom left corner was damaged due to moisture, but still intact.

I picked up the second one, addressed to my brother in similar fashion, and before I placed it atop the first envelope, I discovered a sheet of paper stuck to the back.

Carefully I pulled the paper from the back of the envelope and unfolded the delicate sheet. I had not yet completely removed it when I paused, catching a glimpse of the image that had been circulated across France as well as various parts of Europe. The colors had bled, but it was still very much recognizable.

Breath held, I listened for Alex and Lisette's voices signaling they were about to burst into the room, but there was silence in the hall.

Without a second thought, I ripped the advertisement away from the envelope my uncle had sealed thirty years earlier and stared in disbelief at the red lettering and crudely sketched image of a monster in chains within a cage.

View a living horror.

A monster unfit for polite society.

Half-man, half-beast from the underworld!

Goose flesh rose on my arms and I clenched my teeth. The flyer attached to every possible surface in towns and cities was worse than I had recalled. Well before the crowd entered the tents, they were fed a false description of what waited on the other side of the canvas flaps. Every man, woman, and child was prepared to encounter exactly what Garouche promised: a living horror, unfit to be outside of a cage, a creature from the bowels of hell.

Absently I reached for my mask and nearly pushed it off the edge of the table. I retracted my hand and stared at the advertisement, reading each word again and again. Horror. Unfit. Beast.

There was not supposed to be any physical evidence remaining from the traveling fair. I had thought every flyer had been torn down and discarded, the banner burned and the abhorrent company of gypsies disbanded. The flyer-the distorted proof of what I had been-did not belong in my uncle's pack.

Again I reached for my mask and settled the pads of my fingers on the cool, smooth surface of the cheek. My mind reeled and panic coursed through my veins as I considered packing our belongings and leaving Tormage the moment Julia returned to the inn with our children. I was not certain I wished to see Amelie or the rest of the Batiste family or what I would say to her. I had not told her what delayed me for ten months reaching Paris and she had not asked, quite clearly because she had already known.

My stomach flipped and a shiver ran up my spine.

I wondered if Jean-Marcus had truly traveled to Rouen alone...or if Amelie had accompanied her brother and seen me chained and confined within an iron cage.