All I can say is oof!

CHAPTER 109

Dr. Khan offered to move Claude into his office for a day or two as he wished to change the bandages to both Claude's leg and injured hand frequently and make certain his ankle remained stable.

"My office isn't intended as a living space, but since it would not be practical for Claude to return to his flat, for the time being we will make do. In the meantime, if you are able to find different arrangements, perhaps with one of his friends or a relative, that would be ideal, particularly with no stairs to climb."

"I will see what I can do," I answered.

Claude had no say in the matter as he had asked for additional pain medication and within minutes of being given another dose, he was unable to form a coherent phrase. He did, however, blissfully asked Phelan a dozen questions, none of which pertained to the previous inquiry, proving an amusing exchange while we traveled across town in a carriage that thankfully accommodated the four of us for three separate stops, the first of which took the longest as Claude fell into a deep sleep moments before we arrived at the physician's practice.

"Should one of us stay with him?" I asked.

Kamil shook his head while he unlocked the door to his practice and waited for Phelan and I to carry Claude inside, mindful that despite him being dead weight, his ankle was quite fragile as there was no material to form a splint in the tent, and his left hand had to remain draped over his body to prevent further damage.

"No, no, not at all. He should be asleep for the rest of the night and hopefully well into the morning." Kamil pressed himself to the open door, attempting to stay out of our way as we squeezed past. "Careful with my patient, gentlemen."

"Thank you for your suggestion, doctor, but he is far heavier than he appears," Phelan groused.

It was past midnight when we left Claude resting in an armchair with both legs propped up on an ottoman within a small back room that served as an office. We moved the desk against the bookshelf with the two wooden chairs stacked on top of each other to provide more space come morning when bandage changes and wound cleaning was needed. Kamil hastily scribbled a note and pinned it to the blanket tucked up to Claude's chin explaining to him where he was at should he wake before the doctor returned in seven hours.

"His injuries are not life-threatening and I suspect he will rest quite comfortably," Kamil assured me. "But..." His voice trailed away and he pursed his lips.

I shifted my weight. "As you were saying, doctor?" I impatiently prompted.

"But I will not perform surgery on this young man," he said firmly.

"Then he is to be a cripple with non-threatening injuries that will leave him unable to walk?" I snapped.

Kamil gave an exasperated sigh and stepped closer to me. He turned his hands over, palms facing up to display the scars that had been on his wrists and the heels of his hands for as long as I had known him. From the corner of my eye I saw Phelan furrow his brow momentarily before he straightened the blanket at Claude's ankles and busied himself fluffing an unused pillow.

"My abilities as a surgeon are not what they were twenty years ago, and even then, I was compromised," Kamil explained, keeping his voice low.

"Not compromised to the point where you ceased seeing patients," I replied. "Or have you forgotten?"

"That was not voluntary." Kamil averted his eyes briefly. "I will consult my associate when he arrives in the morning as I suspect we both have the same surgeon in mind who would be able to assist with this young man's ankle as well as his hand if there is a need."

"And if you cannot find anyone?" I pressed.

"It will not come to that," Kamil assured me. He headed toward the doorway leading to the front of the building and motioned for us to follow him out. I glanced back at Claude, reluctant to leave him, fearing he would wake alone and disoriented as I had so many times in Persia, my mind gauzy and mouth dry as sand. Kamil placed his hand gently on my arm. "You have my word, Monsieur. I take my oath as a physician very seriously and I will see that he receives the best care Paris has to offer."

We returned to the carriage and I sat back, uninterested in engaging in conversation while Phelan and Kamil made small talk regarding an upcoming art exhibit they were both interested in attending. I wondered if Claude would feel up to painting something for the theater program, a question I had not yet asked him. If he was administered additional doses of morphine, I doubted he would be up to doing much of anything besides stare at the ceiling from his bed.

"Are you certain I do not owe you for your services?" I asked once the carriage rolled to a stop in front of the doctor's residence. The lights inside were no longer on, but the cat still kept watch in the window, tail swishing as it noticed our arrival.

"Absolutely positive," Kamil answered before he stepped out, hefted his bag over his shoulder, and said he would send word when Claude was able to accept visitors. He took one last look at my brother and smiled. "I do believe you are able to remove the bandages from your head once you are settled for the night. The injury is only superficial."

"Be that as it may, the bandages wrapped around my head will make for a fantastic story and garner sympathy from my niece and nephew in the morning."

Kamil gave an appreciative smile. "Do as you wish, Monsieur Kimmer."

"I always do, Dr. Khan."

Once Kamil shut the carriage door, I crossed one leg over the other and turned to Phelan, who stared back at me from the opposite bench, his expression hardened.

"Is something the matter?" I asked.

He continued to study me in silence, his eyes narrowed in a way that made me increasingly uncomfortable.

"Lan?" I questioned.

"Claude was correct," he said at last.

"I beg your pardon?"

"How did you put it, Erik? Your unintentional untruthfulness?"

I immediately looked away, avoiding his scrutinizing gaze. "Is that what you wish to discuss?"

"Would you rather speak of more trivial matters?"

"After everything that has transpired this evening, I would rather sit in silence."

Phelan leaned back and folded his hands. He inhaled and closed his eyes. "As you wish."

"Good," I said under my breath.

"Good," Phelan replied.

I attempted to sit back and close my eyes, but doubted my brother would simply allow the conversation to end in such a manner. After several moments of silence I opened my eyes and studied him, my brow furrowed when I didn't find him staring back at me as I had anticipated.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Resting my eyes. Why are you breathing so hard?"

"I am not breathing hard."

"Ah, my mistake then. It must be the horses I hear."

"Indeed," I muttered.

The silence resumed and I crossed my arms, scowling at him. "Lan," I said sharply, annoyed that the silence I had asked for had been granted.

His grey eyes slit open briefly. "Has the definition of silence changed in the last five minutes?" he grumbled.

"Why do you think Claude was correct?" I asked, ignoring his tone.

Phelan inhaled and stretched his arms above his head as far as the carriage ceiling allowed. "You have never been daft, Erik. You already know the answer to that question."

His eyes remained closed, his expression passive aside from tension knit between his brows.

Frustrated, I pulled off my mask and wiped my hand down my face still gritty with the debris from the factory. "I suppose the answer is obvious," I said under my breath.

Phelan opened his right eye. "Blatantly," he agreed. "Little wonder you have struggled to make friends over the years."

I swallowed back the unexpected bite of emotion his words elicited, suddenly feeling more self-conscious about my appearance in front of my brother than I had since we had left the remains of my uncle's home in Conforeit, when he had seen my face for the first time since we were children.

"I see," I said under my breath.

"Perhaps I was incorrect and you are daft," Phelan muttered. He studied me while I remained without my mask and I was grateful for the darkness, for the obscurity the shadows allowed while we sat in close proximity to one another.

"I've received few opportunities in my lifetime for friendship," I said, fitting my mask into place at last. I sank lower in my seat, feeling the weight of his words and my own self-deprecation.

"Yes, you've said as much previously and yet you have squandered one of those opportunities."

"I beg your pardon?"

Phelan gave a frustrated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Claude believes you do not trust him."

My brother's words came as a surprise. "He told you this?"

"Erik, once you left to fetch Dr. Khan, Claude thought for certain he was going to die. Out of fear he was down to his last moments, he was quite forthcoming about many details, all of which I am certain he will not remember he told me come morning."

"Such as?"

Phelan lifted a brow. "You wish to know what Claude shared with me while you continue to remain a ghost? Perhaps the Grand Palace's artist is correct and you are nothing more than a violin."

"There is not a single detail of my existence that would be of interest to Claude aside from fulfilling morbid curiosity."

Phelan grunted. "Details such as your time in your Persia? A place I suspect you were not supposed to survive as Dr. Khan put it?"

My eyes widened, lips parted first in surprise that quickly turned to anger. I felt as though I had been ensnared by a trap set by my own brother, one meant to humiliate me.

"That is where you received those marks on your back, isn't it?" he continued when I didn't reply. "You were flogged there."

Heat scorched up the back of my neck. "Clearly I am mistaken and it isn't Claude's morbid curiosity but your own," I said through my teeth.

"Concern, not curiosity."

I scoffed at his words, irritated by the turn in conversation. "I am quite familiar with curiosity, brother. After all, I was paraded throughout Europe for the masses to view. It is unfortunate I had not yet been whipped when the gypsies placed me on display as a child. Perhaps they could have increased their fees, an additional coin per lash. Imagine their coffers overflowing with magnificent riches thanks to the son of the devil."

"Enough of this."

I gave a humorless laugh. "What is the matter, Phelan? Is your perverse curiosity sated at last?"

"You are the most..." He took a breath and tempered his mood far better than I was capable of doing. "I will not be goaded into an argument with you, not when I traveled across Europe to pay you and your family a visit. I apologize if I have offended you as that was not my intention."

"What was your intention?"

He briefly looked me over, his mouth set in a deep frown. "To know you better. The bits and pieces of conversation I've overheard tonight between you and Dr. Khan coupled with speaking to Claude made me realize how little I truly know about my own brother."

"Is that why you told me you nearly took your own life? Bartering your tragedy for one of mine as though your suffering is equal currency to mine? Your funds are truly insufficient."

"Insufficient?" Phelan appeared more taken aback than angry by my malicious inquiry, a reaction I had not expected. He fell silent rather than biting back, his head slightly dipping and lips pursed. The words I had spoken in a moment of anger resonated through me until the tightness of my odious mood gave way to a prickle of remorse. I swallowed, my heart hammering and mind racing as I stammered for suitable words of penitence.

"Lan," I pleaded. "I didn't mean to say-"

"You absolutely did," he replied, his tone unnaturally calm. He forced a smile and nodded, but his eyes were filled with deep sadness. "And so that it is clear, I did not tell you in confidence that I was so distraught after the end of my marriage and loss of my adopted daughter that I considered killing myself merely to coerce you into sharing some horrific detail of your past. I told you because I no longer wished to hold onto such heaviness and there has not been a single person since that day that I wished to confide in. Now in hindsight I realize the foolishness of my misplaced trust in a stranger."

My mouth went dry. I felt as though the world suddenly tilted and I was thrown off-balance, scrambling for purchase that could not be found. "I...I sincerely apologize."

Phelan gave a nonchalant shrug. "There is no need. Apologies cannot retract sentiment, and I believe I am equally at fault."

"No, you are not."

"Yes, I am. I unfairly expected to find the same person I knew forty years ago," he said. "Someone who would stay up late into the night whispering in my ear every thought that passed through his remarkably apt mind. But we are not the same as we were and that relationship has crumbled beyond repair, perhaps because you are correct and your suffering is worth far more than mine. By name we are brothers, but I don't know now if we will ever truly be more than that."

I swallowed. "Do not say that. Please."

Again there was no argument and no hint of anger. "You underestimate how much certain people truly care for you. If I didn't give a damn about you, Erik, I would not have brought up Persia. What you have experienced over the years truly and deeply saddens me in ways you will never comprehend. That is all I will say on the matter."

I stared at Phelan, watched the shadows and light from the street lamps flit over his features as he once again shut his eyes and folded his arms. The uneasy silence stretched out between us and I considered what I would say to him regarding my time in Persia. In the back of my mind, the scenarios of our unspoken conversation played out like scenes on a stage. I pictured us alone seated beneath two spotlights, me gesturing through explanations of puzzle boxes and inescapable chambers while my brother sat across from me, arms crossed and his expression grim. I saw him stand and excuse himself before he slipped through a doorway and the light that had illuminated his seat went dark, leaving me alone.

The carriage came to a rather hard stop and I blinked, jarred from my miserable thoughts. Phelan's eyes popped open and he yawned, twisting his spine back and forth. He exited the coach without sparing me a glance or uttering a word, and I half-expected him to continue down the street and into the night, my secret thoughts turned reality. Instead he walked up the steps to my front door and stood with his arms crossed and back to me.

"Lan," I said quietly once the coach pulled away and we were alone on the street. He leaned against the iron railing and waited for me to unlock the door. I came up beside him and noticed he rolled his tongue along the inside of his cheek while keeping his gaze trained on the door handle. I silently willed him to meet my eye, but he didn't acknowledge my presence.

"Certain people would stop caring if they knew what happened," I said as I fumbled with my keys. The words came out as a hollow whisper, forced from my lips.

Phelan finally met my eye. His jaw twitched before he finally spoke. "Certain people never stopped caring, not even when the days stretched out into years and it seemed unlikely you would ever be seen again. And I'll admit that even now certain people are such damnable fools that they cannot bring themselves to cease caring."

I turned the key and Phelan pushed the door open and stepped past me without another word. The house was dark and quiet once we walked inside, and Phelan mumbled over his shoulder that he would sleep in the parlor on the settee rather than seek a hotel room for the night.

"Are you certain you'll be comfortable?" I asked after retrieving a blanket and pillows from the linen closet.

"Absolutely not. I am planning to wake with a stiff neck and a sore back," he answered as he began unbuttoning his shirt. His tone was gruff as usual, but lacked the undertone of affection I hadn't realized was there before. "That will be the least of my worries this evening."

"You could take Alex's room," I offered.

"And wake my favorite nephew at this hour?" He hefted his suitcase onto the arm of the chair and flipped both latches. "I'll be fine. You needn't concern yourself with my comfort, Erik."

I lingered a moment longer, aware of the tension that stretched further with each passing moment. The way in which he used my given name felt like cruelest form of punishment.

"Why are you hovering?" Phelan grumbled without meeting my eye. He pulled out bed clothes and slammed the lid of his suitcase shut and I stepped back, startled by his actions.

"You are upset with me, and rightfully so," I answered.

Phelan grunted. "And hovering will definitely change that," he muttered. At last he met my eye and shook his head. "Go to sleep. There is nothing further we need to say to one another tonight."

Still I hesitated, but Phelan turned from me and mumbled that he didn't desire an audience while he disrobed.

"Lan, I-"

"Go to bed," he ordered. "Or I may walk out of here half-naked and returning to Brussels at once."

"You would leave in the middle of the night?" I asked.

He lifted his chin and stared straight ahead, his features hardened. Everything from his posture to his manner of speaking reminded me of the first time we had met at our cousin Joshua's house, when he had been ill-tempered and disinterested in speaking to me. "No, I would not leave without saying goodbye to Alex and Lisette," he answered. "They are children and don't deserve to be treated with such cruelty."

He turned from me again and after several moments of silence I knew he would not acknowledge me again. Disappointed, I exited the parlor, my chest tight as I walked upstairs and went through my nightly routine of washing my face and cleaning my teeth. Twice I paused, listening for the sound of the front door creaking open and my brother slipping into the night without bothering to wait until morning. I started toward the stairs, unsatisfied with the ending of our night, but the lights in the parlor were out and I heard the creek of the furniture as he sought a comfortable position downstairs. I forced myself into the bedroom, afraid I would do more harm than good if I attempted to speak to him again.

The stir of agitation was only kept at bay by the sight of Bessie stretched out on her back with her head on my pillow and ears fanned out. She wagged her tail when she saw me, but made no attempt to move from my spot.

"Erik? What time is it?" Julia mumbled in her half-sleep.

"A little after one," I answered.

She reached toward my side of the bed and touched Bessie's ear. "That isn't you."

"No, it's not," I said.

"I didn't realize I fell asleep. I meant to wait for you, but I was simply exhausted."

"There is no need for you to be awake at unreasonable hours."

Softly I opened the dresser drawers and changed out of my day clothes and into pajamas. I left my hair piece and mask on the dresser top on their respective stands and placed my onyx ring into the dish beside Julia's bracelets. It was still strange to find her personal items intermingling with mine, her perfume and hairbrush in the bedroom that had been exclusively mine for nine years.

"Is Claude…?"

"Resting," I answered. The single word came as a relief at the end of a long and stressful night. "In Dr. Khan's office for the time being."

Julia rubbed her eyes and turned onto her side. I nudged Bessie until she finally moved to the foot of the bed and circled twice before curling herself into a ball in her usual spot. "How is he?"

"He survived," I answered. "One of the few, it seems."

"How badly is he injured?"

"His ankle is broken and he has a puncture to his thigh. His left hand is swollen, but Dr. Khan wasn't certain if the injury would require surgery to repair."

"No wonder you look so upset. Is he expected to recover?"

I released a breath. "Dr. Khan seemed to think Claude will be walking again in ten weeks, but now that I have listed his ailments aloud, I have sincere doubts." I settled in beside my wife and combed my fingers through her hair, comforted by her presence.

"Ten weeks is a long time, but he's young and in otherwise good health. Thin, but he seems healthy enough."

I shrugged. "The factory owner's son made a brief appearance and told the survivors that the factory will not reopen. Whether it takes Claude six days or six months, he no longer has his previous employment."

Julia frowned at my words. "He will be devastated."

"I don't think he fully comprehended what happened this evening. Claude was quite dazed when another man managed to carry him to safety while Phelan and I were able to make it out the rear of the building before the rest of the roof caved in." I paused. "I suppose it is also worth mentioning my brother is sleeping in the parlor for the night."

Julia sat up, her eyes wide and mouth wide open in horror. She placed her hand over her heart and gasped. "Never mind where your brother is sleeping. My God, Erik, what were you two doing inside of the building?"

"Searching for the workers still trapped beneath the rubble. Claude was the last person we were able to find along with a little girl. Quite frankly I am unsure of how they were able to survive for so many hours pinned beneath ceiling tiles and the bricks."

Julia looked far from pleased with our actions, but she still managed a smile before she turned away from me, grabbing a small card from her night stand, which she handed to me. "Raoul sent this about two hours ago," she said.

Without reading the telegram, I knew what it would say: Apolline Gillis was to leave The Elise and travel to Paris. Raoul must have found enough evidence that the claims were true and the headmistress was running an unscrupulous business beneath the guise of aiding orphans. Given the circumstances, I wasn't sure if I should be pleased or concerned with the timing of the child's arrival.

"I looked at the station schedule and she should be on the eleven twenty train tomorrow," Julia told me.

"Claude will be in no condition to travel and meet her there," I said, placing the card on my nightstand. "Given the extent of his injuries, it is probably best if she doesn't see him immediately, particularly after an exhausting train ride."

"What are you going to do?"

I sighed and stared at the ceiling. "What would my wife have me do?"

"Well, you've already helped rescue Claude and survived a building collapse," she said with a sigh. "And without your wife's consent, I might add."

I turned my head to face her and smiled. "Would my darling wife have given her husband permission?"

Julia placed her hand on my chest and scooted closer to me. "Truthfully? I'm glad that you and your brother were not injured or killed. And of course Claude is very fortunate to have someone who cares so greatly for him. I'm certain he will be relieved when he's reunited with his sister at last and grateful you were there with him tonight."

I frowned at her words. "He asked me last night after supper to refrain from intervening," I replied. "I don't know how he will feel in the morning when he hears the news."

Julia studied me in the dark. "You mean with his sister arriving?"

I nodded, feeling dread like a pit in my stomach. Loneliness held an advantage in one unexpected aspect: I hadn't cared enough to intervene in anyone's private affairs aside from making the Opera House managers' lives miserable. Now that my social circle expanded, there were disadvantages to no longer being alone that I hadn't anticipated.

"He asked the doctor to refrain from treating him as he was more concerned with the financial implications than his own well-being."

"Claude surely knows you would offer financial assistance as his patron," Julia said.

"He doesn't want my help. He said as much last night when he asked that I not intervene in regards to his sister. I gave him my word and then blatantly disregarded his instructions not sixty minutes later when I had the grave misfortune of running into Raoul for the third time in the same day." I scrubbed my hand down my face and waited for Julia to tsk me over my disparaging remarks toward the comte, but she allowed me my frustration. "And now I sincerely hope Claude doesn't view Apolline as an additional financial burden I've created for him."

Julia traced her finger along my jawline, her brow knit with worry. "I suppose those details make the situation more complicated."

I sighed. "Exponentially."

"Surely you aren't planning on sending his sister back to the girls home?"

"No," I answered quickly. That had not been a consideration. "No, I can't do that."

I couldn't imagine Raoul's reaction if Apolline returned to The Elise after he had gone through the trouble of delivering Claude's sister to Paris, not to mention how devastated the child would be to leave the home, overjoyed to be reunited with her brother after years apart only to be sent back immediately when Claude was unable to care for her. Already she had been separated from her brother for far too many years.

"You will do what's best for Claude and his sister."

I grunted, feeling my ever-present cynicism come to the surface of my thoughts. I had managed to lose Claude's friendship and had quite possibly turned my own brother away in the same twenty-four hours. "You have far too much faith in me, Julia."

"I have precisely the correct amount of faith." She kissed my cheek and drew a circle with her finger on my chest above my heart. "Because I know what's inside of here."

I closed my eyes and turned my face away from her, fearing that whatever Julia saw inside of me simply did not exist.