Chapter 98

"I don't want to fight you," I whispered.

"Why?" Bernard snarled.

"Because I don't," I answered, feeling overwhelmed and defeated, my heart sinking to the bottom of my abdomen.

At last Bernard lowered his hands and gave a solemn nod. "Good, 'cause I'm tired as hell. I been searching for you for the last two damn days. You're lucky I like you as much as I do or I'd knock you real good."

"I still don't understand."

"What's difficult to understand?"

"Why did you return to Paris?"

Bernard frowned at me. "Why do you think?"

I couldn't answer him. I had no idea."

"To see you," he said. "We got an appointment on Monday, remember? For the drawing I bought. Figured I'd come back a few days early and we could sit around and stare at each other without talking 'cause I kinda miss that."

My gaze lowered and I felt my throat start to tighten to the point where I felt an invisible hand strangled me. The sudden flood of relief in seeing Bernard made me light-headed.

"Are you done here?" he asked. "Or do you want to go a round and get it out of your system?"

My legs began to wobble, my mind numb. I was broken, more than I could ever withstand. Mentally I was in no condition to put up a fight. Physically I wasn't sure how much longer I was going to be able to stand.

"You gotta answer me, Professor," Bernard said through his teeth. "You wanna take a swing at me?"

He put his hands up again, elbows down, the look on his face challenging me to engage. I started toward him, hands at my sides, the prick of tears against my eyes.

Weariness and despair forced me to the ground and I sat heavily before I laid down on my side, unable to move further. I blankly stared at the shattered window, numb inside and out, my eyes losing focus while my mind threatened to shut down.

Bernard was on top of me at once, rolling me onto my back before he knelt. My eyes flooded with tears as he straddled my prone form. I drew in a sharp breath, eyes pinched shut, unable to think of anything else but the night Erik had disappeared thirty-one years earlier.

I had killed Erik. My negligence, my ignorance, it had led to this terrible moment and three words in the Epoch:

Erik is Dead

There was nothing I could do to bring him back. I laid on the street, imagining myself outside of the little shack that Alak had taken Erik as an infant while I was forced to walk behind them.

Over and over, I lived through the moment when Alak returned from his search for Erik, unable to find my brother and livid with me for my negligence.

Bernard would grab hold of my arm, same as Alak had done so many years before, and ask if this was what I had wanted. He would suffocate me with the weight of his body and press into my arm and I would never, ever recover.
"No, please," I begged. "Bernard, please don't."

I writhed, left arm clutched to my chest and right hand keeping it in place, attempting to protect myself from the physical pain I knew I couldn't tolerate.

"Don't touch my arm!" I shouted before the breath was stolen from my lungs. I inhaled as much as I could and released it in a howl, same as I had done at the age of seven, when the world around me had collapsed. "Please don't touch my arm."

Erik was dead. He had been dead for years. He had been beaten and neglected, ridiculed and scorned and it was all my doing. I had done that to him, to the person I had claimed to love more than anyone else.

All of the feelings I wished to suffocate, all of the emotional pain I attempted to numb with physical pain resurfaced in one long, dreadful sob of grief that would not be held back a moment longer.

I wept as if I had shattered, as if the pieces held in place broke free at last.

"Professor," Bernard said, his voice a soft rumble. "I ain't gonna do nothing to you. It ain't like that with me. You know that, yeah?"

Somewhere inside of me I knew that Bernard would not intentionally harm me. He was my friend and my brother, and I should have felt relief in having him with me, but the hollowness inside gave way to another mournful howl of anguish that turned into a quaking sob. At first I didn't recognize it as something that had come out of my throat, but the emotions that followed ripped through me, filling the emptiness with unbearable sorrow.

Bernard sat me upright and maneuvered so that we were side by side on the street. He drew me closer, one hand on the back of my skull, his head next to mine.

"I got you, Professor," he said softly. "I got you."

Not knowing what else to do, I put my arm around him, desperate for comfort, for a sense of no longer being alone.

I should not have wanted or needed the physical affection Bernard offered. I was a man in my thirties and I had been alone for as long as I could remember. I should have told him that it was unnecessary, but I couldn't bear to tell him to stop.

Please don't leave me, I wanted to beg him. I will not survive the night if you leave me.

Bernard ran his hand along the back of my head, fingers combing through my hair. It was the single most pleasant and comforting sensation I'd ever experienced in my adult life, and I wasn't sure if the words asking him to stay had been spoken aloud or remained private thoughts.

"You wanna not talk about it?" he asked once I caught my breath.

"He's gone," I said. "My brother is gone."

"Gone?"

"Dead."

Bernard grimly nodded. "Who told you that?"

"His obituary ran in the paper Friday evening."

Bernard sighed. "Christ, that ain't what I was expecting you to say. No wonder you're here on this shit side of town. What the hell happened?"

"I don't know. I never saw him and I have no idea if he's been buried already or not. I know nothing at all, other than I'll never see him again."

Bernard frowned at me, blue eyes filled with sympathy. "You sure he's...?"

"Positive."

"I'm real sorry to hear that. I know how much you loved Erik."

I hadn't expected Bernard to use my brother's given name, and the tears came faster, the sobs longer and harder until I couldn't catch my breath again. I attempted to focus all of my energy on quieting myself, but the harder I tried to calm down, the harder I shook until I began to cough.

"I'm sorry," I said between breaths, mortified by my behavior.

"You don't gotta be sorry for nothing and you sure as hell don't got to hold onto that. I got you, Phelan," Bernard whispered. "I got you. Let all of that out."

I had no idea how long we sat together on the street, but eventually I had no tears left to shed and exhaustion replaced emotion. Bernard held on, his hand between my shoulder blades, chin on my shoulder. He held onto me in a way that I had always wanted to feel embraced by Erik.

"You let me know when," he said. "And then we'll go."

"Is Celeste with you?" I asked at last, drawing back from him.

"Yeah, of course. She's at the hotel. Probably sleeping like a little angel piglet snorting in her sleep after she ordered bedtime tea for room service. I probably made a mistake telling her to get whatever she wanted. I bet she got a whole chocolate cake or something and ate it in bed."

"What time is it?"

"Hell if I know. One or two, probably? I been out since five or six looking for you."

"You don't have to stay here," I said, the words in contradiction of how I felt. "You can go back to her."

Bernard shrugged. "The kid's asleep and don't need me right now and know I ain't gotta stay, but I ain't leaving you alone. Don't matter if you're good with it or not 'cause I ain't letting you walk back home alone. End of discussion."

I wiped my hand down my face, feeling like a fool for sobbing in front of Bernard. My erratic emotions were infantile and I couldn't begin to imagine what he thought of how he had found me. Perhaps he wished he'd never looked.

"I live clear on the other side of town," I said.

"Yeah?"

I blinked at him, unsure of what to say.

"If you're trying to convince me to leave, that ain't going to work."

"I don't want you to see me like this."

"Why?"

"Because," I snapped. "Because I'm ashamed."

"Well that's a shit reason," Bernard said. "You ain't got nothing to be ashamed of, Professor. Your brother died. What are you supposed to do? Act like it don't mean nothing? You loved the hell out of Erik. Why would you try to hide that?"

"It's emasculating."

Bernard studied me, his face in a familiar scowl. "I disagree. You ready to get up?"

I nodded, and in silence we walked toward a waiting carriage that I hadn't seen him hail, wondering if the horses and driver had been there since Bernard had found me.

Bernard pulled a paper out of his breast pocket and read my address to the driver, who nodded and waited for us to climb inside.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw two gendarmes round the corner and realized one was Boucher, who most definitely recognized me. They started to approach until Bernard turned to see what I was staring at.

"Stop!" Boucher yelled. "Kimmer, stay where you are."

"That ain't no way to address an artist," Bernard grumbled.

Boucher ignored Bernard and reached for his handcuffs as he stalked towar me.

"Woah, there. You got a problem?" Bernard snarled.

"There was a fight here," Boucher said.

"Oh yeah? I don't see no fight."

"Most of the participants are being taken to the station," Boucher said, looking directly at me. "I intend to take every last one off the street."

"Good." Bernard crossed his arms. "Keep 'em for the night."

"Is this man with you?" Boucher asked, his eyes narrowed as he continued to stare at me.

"Yeah, why?" Bernard asked, stepping forward.

"I need to speak with him."

"About what?"

"About the fight."

Bernard looked back at me, then at Boucher. "Does he look like he's been in a fight to you?"

Boucher's expression lost all of its confidence. "No, but–"

"You got a problem with him? 'Cause if you got a problem with the Professor, you're gonna have one with me too and I don't think you want that."

"And why is that?"

"'Cause you don't. Is that clear?"

"No, it is very unclear and I suggest you step aside or you'll be sitting in a jail cell next to this criminal."

Bernard stepped forward. "So we got a problem, yeah?"

"If you want to make it one," Boucher replied.

"I ain't making it a problem, 'cause none of us have done nothing that justifies you taking us in. So if you think you're taking me in for no goddamn reason, Thierry needs to meet us at the station and I don't think you want to involve the chief of police. Marie-Terese don't like it when her husband is called out in the middle of the night and Thierry ain't gonna take kindly to you when he sees me there for no reason." Bernard smiled to himself, seeing Boucher's expression sober. "Yeah, you didn't think I knew him, did you? So we got a problem?"

Boucher averted his gaze. "None at all. Good evening, Monsieur."

I had never seen Boucher back down to anyone and stood quite flabbergasted as the inspector walked away without another word.

"How do you know Chief Alonzo?" I asked once Boucher was out of earshot.

"I had to talk to him when Bea was murdered. He and his wife both met me at the station in the middle of the night. Real nice guy."

"That's how you know she doesn't like her husband called away late?"

Bernard shrugged. "For that jackass, probably not. But she made an exception for me, given the circumstances. She's a sweetheart."

Once Bernard and I were seated across from one another, Bernard inhaled and looked at me in a way that would have made me self-conscious if I hadn't known him better.

"When I got the telegram that my Bea and Helena was both missing, I felt like the entire world stopped moving. I was concerned about Helena, but I was devastated about Bea. If they'd wanted me to cut off my leg, I would have used the saw on myself to get my little girl back."

He was quiet for a long moment, his blue eyes distant.

"It was after a match when I heard the news and I'd missed the last train of the night, so I had to wait until morning. Whole damn train ride I tried not to break down and sob." He shook his head. "But I was just filled with dread and there was no one to talk to about it, so I went into the lavatory and spent twenty minutes in there just bawling my eyes out. Didn't want no one to see me like that.

"And then I was told they found Bea's dress, the one Abi made for her, but not my little girl. And then they found a body way far from the dress and I needed to see if it was her. I went down to the place where they had her covered in a sheet. They'd tried to clean her up a little, make it not look so bad, I guess." He scoffed. "Cause you know, it wasn't going to be so bad if I saw her dead and she had her hair combed."

My throat tightened as he spoke words that were difficult to comprehend. I had no desire to see my brother's body. I was not certain if I could recover from seeing him lifeless. As it was, I felt as though I would never be the same.

"I nodded to let them know it was her," Bernard continued, clearing his throat. "And then when I walked out, I couldn't help it anymore. I couldn't stop myself from sobbing over losing her. She was my everything, Professor. My best little friend in the world. And she died a horrific death 'cause someone was pissed at me for winning and they did things to a girl that grown men shouldn't do or even think about.

"I cried like I ain't ever cried before and I didn't stop for a week. Does that make me less of a man?"

I shook my head.

"Does it?"

"No," I answered aloud. "Of course not."

Bernard shrugged. "No, it don't. So don't be feeling ashamed 'cause there ain't nothing wrong with feeling something."

I swallowed and sniffed. "I haven't felt anything in years," I said. "Decades. I don't want to feel anything ever again."

Bernard frowned at me. "You're depriving yourself."

"No," I said. "I'm not deprived. I'm…I'm preventing the pain."

Bernard's frown deepened, and he glanced at my left arm. "With all due respect, Professor, don't seem like you succeeded to me."

I took a shuddering breath. I couldn't admit it to Bernard, but I was fairly certain the only escape from turmoil was death, but I was too much of a coward to face my own demise. I wasn't sure what existed beyond my earthly hell and didn't want to find out that it was exponentially worse.

"You got a bruise there or is it my eyes going bad?" Bernard asked.

"Bruise."

He didn't ask, but he continued to stare at me.

"I did this," I said. "I did this to myself."

Bernard cursed quite loudly in response and I felt obligated to tell him what had happened since he and Celeste had traveled to Wissant. With each detail, a weight lifted from me, and despite having no control over my life, it felt as though I had more clarity in the midst of chaos.

"You got stairs, don't you?" Bernard asked suddenly.

I blinked at him. "Pardon me?"

"To your apartment. How many flights up?"

"Two, but you don't need to come up with me."

Bernard didn't respond verbally, and I knew whether I wanted it or not, he was coming up at least to see me inside.

"God damn stairs," Bernard muttered. "These knees don't like stairs."

He was speaking lightly, but I couldn't think of a suitable reply to match his tone.

The moment the door opened, Elvira began squawking. I lifted my gaze to tell her Bernard meant no harm when I instead gasped, realizing I'd never let her out of her enclosure.

There were at least two dozen feathers on the floor of her enclosure. Once I fully drew back the blanket covering her cage, I realized she had plucked her chest and one wing almost completely bald. Her exposed flesh was red and irritated from the damage.

"My love, what have you done?" I asked, immediately unlatching the hook to the door.

"Does she always look like that?" Bernard asked.

"No," I answered.

"What the hell happened?"

It wasn't her fault, I knew. It was mine. Mine for leaving her for over twenty-four hours.

"She was alone too long."

"How long you been gone?"

"Since last night when the newspaper came out."

"You said the paper came out Friday, yeah? It's Sunday morning."

My heart sank. I had never left Elvira alone for more than nine hours at a time and usually it was closer to four as I hated leaving her by herself. Abandoning her within her enclosure for so long was unforgivable neglect on my part. She must have felt as though she'd been returned to the salon to languish in solitude.

"Elvira, my darling," I whispered. "I'm so very sorry."

She continued screaming as I opened the door. Somehow she managed to swing the door wide open and flew out, driving herself head-first into the back of my chair where she proceeded to roll across the floor.

"Hey," Bernard said softly to Elvira. "Come on now, none of that. You got two bird enthusiasts here and you're gonna hurt yourself."

"Bernard, don't," I warned as he approached Elvira.

"She ain't gonna do nothin'," Bernard said, ignoring my words. "Now come on, Elvira, you need a lift or something?"

Elvira walked around to the other side of my chair and clawed her way up the side to the backrest while Bernard held his arm out to her.

"Careful! She bites!" Elvira screeched.

"You don't wanna bite me," Bernard said. "Come on, let's go to that nice window on that big ass indoor tree. That's a real nice tree you got there. You can see the whole city."

Bernard stuck his arm out further, inviting Elvira to either hop onto his wrist or bite him.

"Bernard–"

"I got her," he said without looking at me. He whistle, patting his arm to encourage the bird staring back at him to accept his offer.

Elvira opened her beak and I braced myself for her to nip at him. It didn't take much for her to draw blood, which she had done to me more times than I could count.

To my relief and surprise, she hopped forward, landing on his forearm where she tugged at his sleeve.

"Hello, darling," she cooed, imitating my voice before she nibbled on his sleeve again.

"She's looking for the button," I said. "She likes to rip them off."

"That's alright," Bernard said as he walked Elvira to her perch. "I know a great seamstress who can sew it back on."

"Abigail is gone," I blurted out.

Bernard turned and frowned at me once he had Elvira on her stand. She immediately left him in favor of her food dish, allowing him to fully face me.

"Howard made her leave, yeah?" He sniffed and gazed around my apartment. I gestured toward the chairs, offering him a seat if he so desired, which he accepted. "He acted like he was gonna tell her she had to go voluntarily or he was gonna take the boys with him. What kind of choice is that?"

"You knew what he intended?"

Bernard frowned. "He ran his mouth when we was out for lunch one day, but I didn't think he was serious and I told him it was a real shit thing to do to his sister. He said he was gonna tell people she was screwing one of her customers so she had to leave 'cause she'd be disgraced. I told him if he did that, she wasn't ever going to forgive him and neither would I."

"There is a rumor she's…" I nodded, but Bernard stared blankly at me. "With child," I said at last.

Bernard sighed in disgust and shook his head. "You don't believe that rubbish, do you?"

"I…I thought it might be mine," I said quietly.

"You and Abi were…?"

I knew how much Bernard loved Abigail, not in a romantic way, but as more of a sister, and I had no desire to have him think poorly of either of us for the time we had spent together.

"You were sleeping with her?" Bernard asked.

"We had seen each other previously," I answered, unable to tell if he was upset. "But we were friends before she left abruptly."

"Seen each other?"

"Intimately," I said at last.

"So you thought the rumors were true and she was in a family way 'cause of you?"

"I thought it could be a possibility."

Bernard didn't say anything in return. He looked away from me, scratching his face, leaving me unsure of what to think.

"I ain't pissed at you or nothin'," he said at last. "Abi is old enough to do what she wants, and besides she really liked you. I kinda figured the two of you were seeing each other in that way, but that ain't none of my business. I'm positive she ain't got nothing cookin' though, if you know what I mean. I think that's all Howard and his bullshit."

I felt the urge to sigh in relief while still being furious that someone like Jean continued to spread rumors.

"How's Marco?" Bernard asked, adjusting the pillow against his lower spine in the chair where he sat across from me.

I stared at him for a long moment. "I'm not sure. I haven't seen him recently."

Bernard looked at me in a way that silently voiced his disappointment. "He's your son, yeah?"

Eyes averted, I nodded, deciding I may as well confess to being Marco's father if I had confessed to sleeping with Abigail. "Yes."

Bernard turned his head to the side and covered his mouth, concealing a yawn. "The kid is a little enamored with him. She would write to him daily if I'd let her, but I keep telling her she gotta pace herself or he's gonna be bombarded with a whole stack of letters when he gets back home."

"Marco told Celeste he's on holiday?"

Bernard eyed me. "I don't think it's a holiday."

"I'm not sure what you mean."

He poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue. "He said he was going away for a while."

"A while?"

"Yeah."

"Where?"

"Didn't say."

"There's six more weeks of school. I'm surprised his mother pulled him away from his studies."

"I ain't certain he told his ma," Bernard said. "He didn't say much to the kid in his letter, but I got the feeling he kinda…left."

I gaped at him. "Left?"

Bernard gave a single nod.

A shuddering breath left my parted lips. "We were supposed to meet at Hugo's to paint two weeks ago. After the opera house fire, I neglected to join them."

"You think that's why he left?"

"No," I said with a shake of my head. "I don't think my absence was that impactful to him."

I had put all of my focus into Erik and none into Marco and I was left without my brother or my son. A new wave of emotion threatened to strike me down again, which felt more than a little deserved.

"You mind if I shut my eyes for a little bit?"

"Of course not," I replied, glancing at the clock above the fireplace. It was nearing three in the morning. I should have been sound asleep in my bed. "Will Celeste be fine by herself?"

"The kid ain't going to be awake until at least eight or nine and I already put in an order for breakfast at the hotel."

I nodded slowly.

"You're coming with me to eat at the hotel. We got a big ass spread of food," Bernard said. It wasn't a question, and I didn't argue, grateful to be surrounded by friends I missed dearly.

OoO

I put the two chairs together, giving Bernard the ability to stretch out between them, head on a throw pillow, feet propped up on my chair. I offered him a blanket as well, which he accepted and wrapped around himself like a cocoon.

"This is better service than the hotel," Bernard commented before I cleaned my teeth and face and returned to my own room.

Somehow I managed to fall asleep swiftly, into a dreamless state of suspension. I woke to the sound of muffled voices and sat up, still dressed in the clothes I'd been wearing since Friday, and opened the bedroom door, surprised to see Bernard was still in my apartment.

"Joshua?"

My cousin turned to face me, his expression grim. "Phelan," he said. "Why are you in the same rumpled clothes you wore yesterday?"

"I was so tired that I never changed for bed last night."

"Tired? From what?"

"I was up late. Forgive me, I wasn't expecting you. Is something wrong?" I asked.

He continued to stare at me in a way that made me fairly certain he was annoyed with me. It was a familiar, disapproving expression, one that he had issued many times over many years, but not since the gallery closing a week earlier.

"Joshua is-"

Joshua didn't say a word, but he held up the newspaper.

I drew in a breath and looked away from him. "Is that from last night? I haven't had a chance to read the newspaper yet."

"You didn't have a chance to read the newspaper?"

"No."

"Hmm. You never had a chance to return to my home as you said you would, either," Joshua said. "Elizabeth and I waited up until midnight, hoping you would be true to your word, but we were both disappointed. I suppose by now I should expect disappointment."

"I was going to come back later today."

"Ah, I see. I suppose you had more important things to do or women to bed last night, considering your shameful attire." Joshua made a noise low in his throat. "Why would you trifle with me and Elizabeth after we lost Carmen?"

"That is not what happened."

His expression was still very much one of anger, but there was something more to it, something he didn't want me to see as he lowered his gaze. "Phelan, when were you going to tell me about Erik?"

"I don't know," I said under my breath. "I didn't know what to say, especially with Carmen passing away–"

"You knew two weeks ago, didn't you? You knew that was him at the theater, the one who set the fire and killed dozens of people."

"That wasn't what happened."

"But you knew he was the one they were searching for and you didn't say a word to me. You knew the sketch of Hamish was incorrect and you didn't tell me. Why?"

"You were taking care of Carmen. I don't know why you are upset," I said, keeping my voice low.

"No, Carmen has nothing to do with it and do not use my wife as an excuse. You kept it to yourself," he replied. "You knew all of this time and didn't say a damn thing."

Bernard had moved closer to Elvira, feeding her snacks from her bowl in an attempt to stay out of the conversation. He turned his head, looking at Joshua, his gaze hardened.

"I would have told you after."

"After what?"

"After everything with Carmen settled down. It didn't seem appropriate to bring it up."

"Is that what you intended to do? Wait until my wife was dead and then tell me you'd found Erik? That he was wanted?"

"He was not completely at fault," I said defensively. "Not as the newspaper would have you believe. I tried telling you that and you wouldn't listen."

"Was he not completely at fault because you aided him?"

"No," I said. "No, I saw Erik from a distance and I wasn't able to reach him. The stage caught fire and I tried to go after him, but I was forced to exit the building and I never saw a trace of him after that. I've searched the streets and tried to locate him, but to no avail."

Joshua grunted. "I suppose you can stop wasting your time trying to find him now."

My heart stuttered. "Wasting my time?"

"Yes, wasting your time. Thirty years of it and God knows how much of your meager financial resources you've poured into finding him. Now that is no longer necessary." He held up the newspaper, the front page of which had the sketch with the words 'GHOST CONFIRMED DEAD' above it.

"It was not a waste of time, Val" I said. "Finding my brother was never a waste of my time."

My cousin sighed heavily. "As sorry as I am to hear that Erik is gone, I suppose this is for the best."

My mouth dropped open. "How can you say that? How can you possibly think this is for the best?"

"Because you fixate on him and it's unhealthy. Now you can move past his disappearance and finally grow up."

His words left me barely able to breathe. "What did you say to me?"

Val looked as though he regretted his words, but made no attempt to retract them or correct himself.

"You know as well as I do that your obsession with locating Erik was unhealthy. Now you can properly let go of him and move on."

"Move on?" I echoed.

"Your attachment to him was destructive. Surely you were aware of how much your obsession poisoned you."

"One more word," I said through my teeth. "One more word and you will permanently speak through a broken jaw."

Val raised a brow and scoffed. "You intend to threaten me? Where were you last night? In a jail cell? Perhaps you would like to return there?"

Bernard inhaled sharply and turned his full attention to Val. "Monsieur Kimmer, I am real sorry to hear about your wife. I know you're pissed as hell right now, and I think you should go."

Val paused, looking Bernard over. "This doesn't concern you."

"I disagree. This is concerning me a whole hell of a lot."

"Phelan is my cousin," Val argued.

"You told me that when I opened the door. The thing is, I don't see no reason for you to talk to your cousin the way you just did."

"You don't know him like I do."

Bernard shrugged. "Maybe I don't. But I know him well enough not to tell him he needs to grow up and forget his brother."

Val grew more frustrated by the second. His nostrils flared, jaw set. "That's not… that's not what I'm saying. You are twisting my words regarding a situation you know nothing about."

"I know that your cousin loved the hell out of his brother. I know that he's spent his whole life wanting his brother back and now that's never going to happen. You can deny it all you want, but I sure as hell heard you tell him to grow up and move on days after he got the worst damn news of his life. If that ain't what you mean, then maybe you need to go home and think about what you want to say to him 'cause right now, you ain't making anything better talking to him this way."

Val glared at Bernard. "Perhaps you are the one who should leave as this is a private family discussion."

Bernard crossed his arms. "I asked you real nicely. I ain't gonna be so nice if I have to ask you again. Now, walk out the door, down those stairs, and he'll talk to you when he's ready and you've cooled down. Yeah?"

"Don't tell me to cool down," Val warned.

"Leave," I said without looking at my cousin. "Leave or I'll never speak to you again, Val."

Val erupted with a humorless chuckle. "That's your threat? You'll never speak to me again, Phelan? That sounds like a wonderful promise to me, something I should have asked you to do years ago. It certainly would have saved me the trouble of watching you ruin your life again and again."

I stared at Val for a long moment, my heart hammering. "You almost had me convinced at the gallery that we could honestly be friends. You almost had me believing that you were there because you truly cared for me. That I was actually important to you."

Val's eyes were ice cold when he stared back at me. "I've tried," he said. "God knows I've tried, but you have proven to me again and again that you are not worth my time or effort."

"Out," Bernard said. "Now."

I doubted Val would have given Bernard's words a second thought if the boxer hadn't stepped forward, advancing until he stood nearly chest-to-chest with my cousin.

"Tell him you'll see him later, when he's up to it, and by that time you're gonna have one hell of an apology prepared," Bernard commanded. "Or we're gonna be walking down those stairs together. And you ain't gonna enjoy that."

Val's jaw twitched, his nostrils flared. He glared at me from the corner of his eye and started to speak, but Bernard cleared his throat.

"You want me to count to three like you're five years old?"

"Phelan, if you show up at Carmen's funeral on Friday, I'll call the gendarmes and have you-"

"You don't want me at Carmen's funeral?"

"No. I don't want you anywhere near me ever again."

"You don't mean that," I said.

"I absolutely do. I cannot bear the sight of you a moment longer."

"Out," Bernard said.

Val turned away and stormed out the door, slamming it behind him.

Bernard remained quiet for a long moment before he turned his attention back to me. "I hope you don't mind me sending your cousin away like that."

"I don't."

Bernard rubbed his nose. "You know he don't mean none of that, yeah? He's got a lot on his plate, same as you."

"Val meant every word."

"You think so?"

"Yes. He's accustomed to speaking to me in that manner," I replied. "He's always felt like I've wasted my life."

Bernard huffed. "Give him a few days and see if he changes his mind."

"He won't," I replied.

"Let him keep his opinion to himself, then," Bernard replied. He nodded at me. "Either we're gonna get breakfast at the hotel or I'm taking a bite out of Elvira."

"I'm not hungry."

"You'll be hungry once you see all the food the kid ordered."

I was fairly certain that Bernard was not interested in my excuses and I was going with him to the hotel whether I agreed or not.

"I need to clean up first and change clothes," I said.

"You got ten minutes."

oOo

A change of clothes and freshening up did wonders for my mood. I didn't feel like myself, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. I felt like the version of myself who knew Bernard Montlaur, not the version of myself who could not cope with the loss of my brother and sister-in-law.

"You're gonna love the hell out of the frame," Bernard said, his voice filled with genuine excitement.

"You've seen it?"

"No, but I know it's gonna be great."

His response was truly what I needed to hear. "How long are the two of you staying in town?"

Bernard shrugged. "Through Tuesday at least, maybe Wednesday. Maybe for the week. Depends."

"You don't have a match here again, do you?"

Bernard shook his head. "Nah, no boxing," he said. "I got a friend to see, though. First time I ever came into this damn town or any other for that matter just to see someone." He turned to me, crooked smile in place. "In case I ain't being real clear, I mean you."

"I am glad to see you. I apologize, Bernard, for my sullen nature. I know I may not show it properly but–"

"You don't got to apologize, Professor. I been where you're at and I know it's pure hell. If you want to not talk about, we'll sit on the floor and not talk about it. That good with you?"

"If you have time…"

"I got time," he assured me. "And then if you got time, lets go a few practice rounds."

I nodded slowly. "I would like that."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

"Good, 'cause after all the hours I spent searching for you last night, I still kinda wanna kick your ass. But in a nice way. A gentle ass-kicking, if you will."

His words made me chuckle. "You want to gently pummel me?"

"Eh, no, I'm gonna pummel the shit out of you, but at the same time, I'll take good care of you," Bernard promised. "I won't knock you out or nothing."

We walked into the hotel lobby and took the lift up to the second largest suite the Gold Medallion had to offer where Bernard led me into their accommodations.

Celeste was at the piano, gently tapping the keys while she hummed to herself. She lifted her gaze when we walked in and gasped once she saw me, nearly falling off the piano bench with excitement.

"Bern! You found The Professor!"

"Of course I did. Told you I would," Bernard replied. He looked around, sniffing the air. "Food ain't here yet?"

"Any minute now," Celeste assured him. She turned back to me and smiled. "I'm so glad to see you, Professor."

"A pleasure seeing you as well, former Cleaning Assistant."

She grinned back at me, dressed in a light green frock with a thin white sash and white trim that matched the white band resting on the crown of her head.

"Is that new?" I asked.

Celeste readily nodded.

"Give it a spin, kid," Bernard suggested.

She hopped to her feet and did two full circles, twirling around the floor like a cyclone ready to take out everything in her path.

"Madame Soward had it sent to Wissant for me. Isn't it lovely?" Celeste asked.

I forced a smile. "It's a good color on you."

"You should try green. I bet emerald green would suit you well."

I thought of the suit that Abigail had made for me to match her dress and nodded in agreement. "I will take that into consideration."

Hotel staff delivered a generous amount of food and a pot of coffee that Celeste said she ordered exclusively for me, which I felt obligated to drink.

As we began enjoying our meal, I happened to ask how she liked Wissant, and after taking an extraordinarily deep breath, her eyes grew wide and she spared no details. She grinned while speaking, clearly comfortable in her new surroundings.

"You must come visit," Celeste said to me.

"I will."

"Do you promise?"

I rarely made commitments, but nodded, feeling relieved to see the two of them again. "Of course."

We sat around the breakfast table, eating far too much food while Bernard asked about art shows and Celeste talked about the bird houses they had made, one of which was on its way to Paris for me in the 'large box as big as a fanny' as Celeste put it.

"Bern, can me meditate?" Celeste asked. She had already flopped onto the plush rug by the piano, arms and legs outstretched.

It was an unexpected delight to see her behaving like a girl, comfortably at ease in the presence of men considering what she had endured.

"You in?" Bernard asked, nodding at me. "I ain't getting on the floor though. I'll take that sofa and you can have the other one."

We took our places on the furniture, the two of us removing our shoes. I laid flat on my back, knees bent and hands clasped over my stomach.

"Deep breath," Bernard said as he settled into the other sofa. "Be here, in this room, in this moment. Leave everything in the past behind you."

I filled my lungs with air, and for the first time in weeks, I closed my eyes, held onto my breath, and gave myself permission to let go. I followed Bernard's lead, inhaling, holding the breath, and slowly exhaling. I focused on my stillness, allowed my mind to wander from the noise of my thoughts, and released as much heaviness as I was capable of achieving, permitting the shards of grief and sorrow to remain in my wake.

"I should return to Elvira," I said as mid-morning turned to early afternoon and our meditation session came to an end. "But I'll meet you both for dinner?"

"Yeah, sure," Bernard agreed. "We'd like that."

We headed down to the lobby together, Bernard and Celeste to the park to feed the ducks while I continued home once we made plans to meet for dinner at the Teal Drake.

"Six sound good? I'll make reservations."

"Six is perfect," I agreed.

Bernard grabbed my shoulder and squeezed with a bit more pressure than I had expected. "Thanks for coming by the hotel with me."

"The pleasure was mine."

I turned from them, heading toward home with my heart much lighter than it had been since I'd seen Erik for the last time. The loneliness felt less suffocating as I was at ease knowing that I would see them again in a few hours. It would not bring back Erik or Carmen. It would not lift the grief completely or vanquish the anxiety I felt always present, but for the time being, I thought less of loss and more of time moving ever-forward, of what awaited on the horizon rather than what was unable to be changed in the past.