Hello! There are +/- about ten more chapters to go with this story from how it's planned out. I've been working on some new stuff too, so if you're interested I'll provide more information once this one officially winds down.
Ch 80
Alex and Lisette were the only two children in the town square when I walked out of the inn and spotted them sitting on the edge of the fountain with their feet in the water. Neither one of them spotted me as they were facing toward Solan's, and as I approached I slowed my pace and appreciated the sight of them together.
As far as I could recall there had not been a fountain in the town square when I had traveled through Tormage with my uncle. Much of the town had changed, including the reaction of the townspeople to a boy in a crudely hewn mask who was now an adult in a more sophisticated covering.
The handful of people I passed smiled and nodded politely, most likely because word had quickly spread of my occupation. If I had paid a visit as a stranger, I assumed the reception would have been much different. Perhaps if I had come alone I would have been denied lodging or refused service at the cafe.
I thought of the handful of times my uncle had told strangers that I wore a mask to conceal wounds to my face that I had possessed since birth. When he did not think I heard him, he added that I had been whisked away from my negligent and cruel parents. His story was always met with concern and understanding. Eyes would flicker toward me with a look of greater acceptance and less trepidation of the mysterious boy who hid half of his face. Their softened features made me less fearful that I would be told to sleep outside or forced to eat in the alley.
"Teach me," Alex said to Lisette.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because. Now hold out your other wrist."
Alex crossed his arms over his chest. "Not unless you teach me how to do it too."
Lisette gave an exasperated sigh. "Fine. But why do you want to learn how to braid the stems?"
Alex shrugged. "For the girl I am going to marry. I will make her a flower bracelet."
"I don't want to get married. Ever," Lisette said firmly. "I am going to live alone in a little house with a fluffy gray cat and read books all day."
"I am going to move to a place where I can have six wives and a dozen dogs. And a lion who is friends with a bear! And my own falcon."
"What are you going to do with a falcon?" Lisette asked as she began to link flower stems together. I smiled to myself as that was the same question I would have asked.
"Send messages to Aunt Meg and Uncle Charles, Mother and Father, and you in your little house with your cat as long as you teach me how to make a bracelet."
"Fine, I will show you, but only because I want to see the falcon," Lisette said. "See how I loop this through here? You have to be very gentle."
Alex leaned forward and readily nodded. They sat in such close proximity that I could not see the flowers in Lisette's hand, but I appreciated the moment all the same.
"May I try?" Alex asked.
"Do it with me," Lisette said. She carefully walked him through each step, reminding him all the while to be gentle so that the flower stems didn't break.
"Alex?" Lisette said. "I did not mean to cause trouble by telling Papa you picked the flowers."
"I know," Alex said. "I am not upset with you."
"Do you think Papa is still upset?"
Alex concentrated on his handiwork before he answered. "I don't think so."
"I hope he is not."
"Ask him. He's standing behind us."
Lisette whipped around, smiling at first when her eyes met mine before she cautiously looked away. "How did you know, Alex?" she asked.
Alex finished tying the end of his flower bracelet together. "I always know," he said before he twisted around and squinted in the sun. He smiled when he looked at me and motioned me forward. He had always been quick to forgive, a trait he most certainly had not inherited from me.
"Father, would you like to learn to make a bracelet? And before you answer, we picked all of these flowers behind the store and not from the planters. Monsieur Batiste showed us where we could find more."
"I will spectate," I said as I approached and sat facing the opposite direction of Lisette and Alex with my feet on the ground rather than in the fountain. The smooth stone surface was warm from the sun, the spray of water from the three-tier fountain cool against the back of my neck.
"Watch Lissy," Alex said. "She is very good at this."
Lisette kept her head down and slowly wove a flower bracelet together. She didn't say a word as her small hands nimbly created what appeared to be the fifth bracelet of various lengths.
"Where did you learn this?" I asked.
She shrugged without meeting my eye and kept her voice so low I could barely hear her. "I don't remember."
"Make one for Father," Alex suggested.
"Boys don't wear flower bracelets."
Alex looked down at the two he had on his wrist. "Of course they do," he said. "Boys wear them to give to girls and then the girls make their eyes bulge and flutter their lashes, which means that they like the bracelets. Oh, and they also squeal. That's when you know they really like your gift."
"You are quite educated on how to win the hearts of young ladies," I said.
Alex shrugged. "Lis, make one for Father so that he can give it to Mother."
Lisette glanced at me. Whereas Alex had eight years of experience with my short-lived bursts of frustration, Lisette had heard me grumble and had unfortunately overheard me curse beneath my breath a time or two in frustration, but this had been different. I regretted my strong reaction and how I had directed it at my son.
"I'll gather more flowers for a necklace," Alex said as he stood in the water and hopped over the ledge bare foot.
Lisette didn't look up to acknowledge his words, and the way in which she sat still and quiet reminded me far too much of the little girl I had seen through my bedroom window, a toddler cast out by her father to sit on the back step alone when he wanted peace and quiet.
Lisette carefully braided the stems together, knotting one into the other to form a chain. Unexpectedly one broke and she paused, eyeing the two parts of the flower with alarm at her mistake. She nibbled on her bottom lip and attempted to untie the knot in the stem to attach a new one, but the task was far too tedious and delicate.
"I'll start a new one when Alex returns," Lisette said softly. "I don't have enough flowers and I think the rest of this will break if I attempt to remove the knot."
"You are quite masterful with something so delicate."
"Not really," Lisette said. "I should have been more careful." She wiggled her toes beneath the shallow water and stared at a distant point. "But I was not. That is why I ruined it."
"I should have been more careful as well," I said. "I apologize for losing my temper. It was not directed at you or Alex."
Lisette pursed her lips. She remained silent for a long moment as she made circles in the water with her toes. "May I tell you something?" she asked at last.
"Always."
"My father...my…"
I held my breath, waiting for her to call Louis her real father. I dreaded the thought of losing her trust so drastically that she did not want to consider me her father a moment longer.
"My first father had a gap between his bottom front teeth," she said. She pulled at her bottom lip to show me her bottom teeth, which were perfectly straight.
I studied her for a moment, unsure of what to say in return as I had not expected a conversation about Louis.
"Do you want to know how I know?"
"If you would you wish to tell me."
Without looking up at me, she scrunched up her face and said, "Be silent, Lisette," between her teeth. Her nostrils flared, breath hissing past her bared teeth in a display of anger to mimic Louis. After a moment, Lisette cleared her throat and swallowed, relaxing her features once more. "That is how I know."
Words of comfort and wisdom failed hairs on my arms stood on end and I suppressed a shiver. All I could think of was how much I loathed Louis Seuratti and what I would not give for the opportunity to take his life a second time. "I see."
"He liked panna cotta and he said my name in a very mean voice," Lisette said. "That is all I remember, I think."
I did not know my own father well enough to learn his favorite meals. I did not know the month or year of his birth or what his childhood had been like and as far as I was aware, his parents had not visited while I lived beneath the house in the cellar. I had no idea how my father had met my mother or why they had married when the nine years I had been in their home they were unkind to one another, which was putting it mildly. The vague memories I had of my parents were not ones I wished to recall, but like my daughter they were still part of my memory.
"I will not say your name in a mean voice, Lisette," I told her. "Not for as long as I live."
She met my eye at last, perhaps searching for sincerity. I wondered how many times, if any, Louis Seuratti had promised his wife and daughter that he would not scream and strike them again. My father rarely apologized to me and when he did, I knew he would betray his own words as he always made certain he left the cellar with his bottle and stumbled up the stairs, clutching to the glass neck while he left me hugging my knees to my chest, forced to sooth myself.
"May I ask you something?" Lisette said.
I nodded, twisting so that I faced her and offered my full attention.
"What made you angry?" she asked.
I should have expected such a question, but I found myself still caught off-guard by her inquiry.
"I was reminded of something from a very long time ago," I said. "It resurrected a terrible feeling that I haven't experienced in many years."
"Something you had forgotten about?" she asked.
"Yes," I lied.
I had never forgotten the traveling fair, not for a single day. Whether it was the middle of the night on a walk or a tepid afternoon spent in the dining room eating lunch, the thoughts crept up on me. Sometimes the feelings consumed me far easier than I wished to admit, and other times Madeline walking into my bedroom humming to herself and it was enough to retract the thoughts and push away the panic. Once in a great while she suspected that there was something amiss, but I had become quite masterful at holding a full conversation with her while digging my fingernails into my palms in order to combat the inner workings of my mind.
Lisette looked at me with grave concern. She searched my gaze, her hazel eyes filled with unspoken grief we both shared. "A sad feeling?"
"Yes, it was a sad feeling."
"You are thinking of it now?" She scrunched up her face again, testing the expression momentarily, and I knew that she could still hear Louis's angry voice telling her to be quiet. "It feels horrible."
I nodded. "It does."
"Why do some things still hurt when they happened long ago?"
My heart ached for my daughter and the burden she carried that I could not erase. I hated to think that she would remember her father's twisted features and the way he said her name for the remainder of her life. She did not deserve to be plagued by such memories.
"I do not have a proper answer to your question, I'm afraid."
"I think it hurts because I hear only his angry voice in my head and I don't remember if he had a nice voice too," Lisette said. "And because I don't remember a nice voice, I do sometimes remember that he liked mother's panna cotta and I think it made him happy."
Perhaps it was pure selfishness on my part, but I didn't want Lisette to remember a single detail about Louis. As far as I was concerned, he had not earned a place in her memories.
"Papa? Are you still angry?" Lisette asked without looking at me. Her voice trembled slightly and I realized she was still very much afraid.
"It would be truly impossible to be angry while sitting on the edge of a fountain beside you."
Her head popped up, her cheeks flushed as she smiled back at me at last. "Good. I would not want you to be upset when we are visiting your dear friend and her family. They are very nice people with exceptionally sweet donkeys and delicious plums. I would like to visit them every summer. Wouldn't that be wonderful?"
"Yes, it would be," I answered simply to appease her. A half an hour earlier I had not wanted to see anyone from the Batiste family ever again and had ended up invited to a performance that I had reservations about attending.
"Did you ever think you would see Madame Amelie again?" Lisette asked.
"When I was much younger, yes, but in more recent years, no. I did not have her address or recall the name of the town until my cousin gave me the box he'd kept for years. Without that information, we would not be here."
"You should write an opera about friendship. I would come to see it."
"That is an excellent suggestion and I would be honored to have you in the audience."
"I hope when I am as old as you I will be able to see my friends as you have."
"Yes," I said dryly. "It is a wonder at my advanced age that I was able to find Amelie."
"Mmhmm," Lisette said with an exaggerated nod, heedless to my tone.
Lisette continued to swirl her foot through the sparkling water. I followed the pattern and realized she had changed the circles to hearts.
"Papa, do you know what else?"
"What else, Lisette?"
"Your teeth don't have a gap at the bottom," she said. She looked me in the eye then, one hand shielding her face from the sun. "And when you smile, the right side of your mouth is slightly higher than the left, especially when you're listening to Alex tell a story." She paused and giggled to herself. "Just like you're doing now."
I hadn't realized I smiled back at her, although it wasn't much of a surprise. "You and Alex give me many reasons to smile."
Lisette leaned in closer. "And Alex sometimes makes you say bad words. And Aria when she uses her claws to climb up your leg, but that would make me say bad words as well."
"I will do better watching my language."
"Oh, I don't mind. All adults curse except for..."
"Your mother."
Lisette shook her head. She pulled her feet out of the water, sat on her knees, and whispered into my ear, "Uncle Charles."
I blinked at her, not particularly surprised that mild-mannered Charles Lowry was excluded from the list, but astonished that Julia-my saint of a bride-joined such questionable ranks. Perhaps Julia was the reason Lisette knew the bad words in Italian.
"Well then I will have a discussion with the rest of the adults to amend our language appropriately, Uncle Charles excluded and your mother apparently included."
Lisette giggled again in charmingly devious fashion. "But you can't tell her I told you."
"Of course not. Our secret."
Lisette offered me her smallest finger. "Promise?" she asked quite innocently.
I hooked my finger with hers. "As long as you give me your word to speak properly like Uncle Charles."
"Always," she whispered. "I will be a proper lady with a cat."
I grunted. "A gray cat, if I am not mistaken."
Alex dashed back with a handful of flowers and a wide grin on his face. "Monsieur Batiste said I should leave some for the bees to make honey, so I did."
Lisette carefully separated the flowers into three small piles and took a deep breath. "We have enough to make one each as long as we are careful." She looked to Alex, who nodded readily, and then to me. "I will help you."
"There is no doubt in my mind I will need as much assistance as you are able to provide."
Lisette furrowed her brow and pursed her lips as she looked me over. "Would you please hold up your hand?"
I did as requested and Lisette placed her palm against mine. My hand dwarfed hers, which made me chuckle. Immediately Lisette furrowed her brow and appeared quite skeptical.
"Hmmm." She tapped her index finger against her chin. "Your hands are suited to playing music, but I'm not certain you will be good at creating a flower bracelet."
"He will be terrible," Alex chimed in. "His fingers are twice the size of yours!"
Lisette sighed dramatically. "Yes, I see. This is very unfortunate and I do not have high hopes of this being successful."
"Such absolute flattery, both of you," I said, feigning insult.
"You could keep the flowers organized," Lisette suggested.
Seeing as how the flowers had already been separated into three piles, I did not see how I would be of any use whatsoever, but I agreed nonetheless. This was the memory I wanted her to remember from her childhood; a moment spent in a quaint town on a sun-warmed stone fountain rim creating flower bracelets in August.
"May we take everything back to the inn?" Alex asked as he gathered both his boots and his sister's. "I'm thirsty and it's too hot in the sun."
"That would be more comfortable. And there is a tray of food in the room if you are hungry before supper," I said.
Alex immediately perked up. "A tray of food? From Madame Amelie?"
"From the Ruby Pony."
Lisette gasped as she gathered up the flowers. "Oh! I adore ponies!"
"It's a theater, not an actual pony," I amended.
Lisette frowned. "That is very disappointing."
In the back of my mind I envisioned a red pony prancing up a flight of stairs, silver tray in its mouth, and knocking on our door with its hoof. Instantly I could see why my daughter was gravely disappointed.
Alex handed me the two piles of remaining flowers, which quickly became one, and looked around the square. "Where is the theater?"
"Beside the inn," I answered, pointing the building to our right.
"That doesn't look like a theater," Alex said.
"Well, apparently it is," I answered. "A small one, but a theater nonetheless."
"Why would they give you food? Do they think we are poor?" Alex asked.
I furrowed my brow. "No, Alexandre, it is because I have composed many well-known pieces of music and this is a show appreciation for my work."
Alex made a face to indicate he was not impressed in the least. "Do they perform operas or...?"
"Or plays?" I asked as we reached the entrance to the inn.
"Or something more fun?" Alex asked. "Like juggling."
"Marie performs there," I said. "That is the extent of my knowledge."
"Ooh! When does she sing?" Lisette asked as we walked through the lobby and up a narrow flight of stairs with burgundy papered walls that made the staircase seem somewhat dark and confining.
A gentleman with a pipe stared at my open palm and the collection of flowers as he descended and shook his head when we passed. I wondered if he had noticed the bare spots in the planters at Solan's and assumed a grown man had raided the displays.
"Marie sings tonight, actually."
"Will her family be there?" Alex asked.
"May we sit with them?" Lisette questioned.
"We will see," I said, although I doubted either of them heard my reply as they burst into our room and immediately began telling Julia about the Ruby Pony.
