Erik - Chapter 28

"I don't-and haven't for a very long time, but my sister and brother-in-law do, and every year, they come down here to pick what has been growing during the summer.  One year, they made so much wine, they had enough to not only give away as gifts, but enough to last them almost two years!  This year's crop doesn't look to be quite that abundant, though there should be enough grapes to make a few liters anyway.  Well, there's more to see here in the Bocage.  Do you know anything about this region of France?"  I shook my head, and he added, "You're in for a treat, then.  My family used to spend a lot of time here, so I was able to learn a little about this area.  There's a lot of history behind it.  Come!"  He then offered me his arm, and we left his house to go on our excursion.
We walked across the grassy area and, as we entered the woods, I noticed how close together the trees were, and commented on it.  "The trees are mostly pine and oak, and these thickets used to house packs of wolves during the Middle Ages.  Now, only deer and a few wild boar can be found along with the usual assortment of smaller animals.  In the old days, the nobles used the forest for a hunting preserve but now, the animals are all protected."

"There's wild boar here in the forest?  Aren't they dangerous?" I asked.

Erik chuckled and replied, "I don't think so-Melusine doesn't allow her animals to molest humans!"  He then added mischievously, "She's also the one who protects them, you know!"

Melusine?  Who's that?" I asked.

"Why, don't you know?  She's the local fairy!  It's also said that she's the one responsible for building the chateau as well as creating this forest-all in a single night, from what I understand!" Erik replied, smiling as he did so.

Unsure if he was only teasing or was serious, I pressed my lips together and said, "And you think I'm nuts for believing in ghosts!"

"Ah, but your ghosts don't have magical powers-Melusine does!" he retorted mischievously, and then added, "Even now, she's using them!  Turn around and look at the village!"  I turned and looked to where he was pointing and, as if out of nowhere, the village of Vouvant appeared out of the dissipating fog and began to take shape.  "Now, let's just see if your ghosts can match that!" he exclaimed, and then added in a more serious tone of voice, "If we hurry, we can see more of the forest before it starts to rain again.  Come!"

I turned around to face Erik and we made our way through the brush and finally came across a gravel footpath.  For once, I'm glad I decided to wear flats!  I'd never make it through these woods with high heels! I thought as we went down the path.  Erik looked around as if searching for something, and then exclaimed "There!"  We made our way quickly down the path and finally stopped and found ourselves standing in front of a large map set up in a small shelter on the side of the footpath.

"It's a good thing they have maps in this place!  Those woods look like they're so thick you could get lost easily!" I exclaimed softly.

Erik nodded and said, "You can.  This whole Bocage region was once described as a 'labyrinth' by General Kleber when he was chasing the Royalists during the Vendee Uprising.  Even the locals have been known to get lost in these parts from time to time.  At any rate, the picnic area's over that way!"  He pointed to an area on the map that was around the corner and up a bit from where we were standing.  As we walked along on the path, I noticed that there was a dense thicket of underbrush on both sides of the path, and behind the thickets were thick clumps of trees, which created an aura of mystery, but at the same time, a sense of grandeur, not unlike one feels when one travels through the national forests of America.  As we passed by a tiny clearing in the thicket, I stopped to admire the scenery.  The open space between the bushes was barely wide enough for one person to squeeze through, but the area behind it opened up to reveal a small grassy area sheltered by a small canopy of low lying branches of the pine trees that encircled the grassy area.  Erik noticed that I had stopped to look around and, seeing the look on my face, said quietly, "That's supposed to be Melusine's bedroom."

I looked up at him and smiled.  "It's a lovely spot-almost lovely enough to have our picnic right here!" I replied.
He shook his head and said, "The French authorities are very strict about such things.  No, we'll have our meal in the picnic area.  If we hurry, we can see more before it starts to rain again.  I really don't like the looks of those clouds building up in the east."  I looked up at the sky and saw that he was right, for the clouds were coming back and were building up again.  I then nodded my assent, and we quickly left the spot that I had found so enchanting.

The picnic area was another five-minute walk from the small clearing and was situated in another clearing at the top of a small rise in the forest.  As we reached the small group of picnic tables arranged in a circle around a small grill, Erik asked, "Well, what do you think of this part of the Bocage?"

"It's lovely, especially the woods.  But, I didn't think France had many forests!" I exclaimed as I sat down on a picnic bench.

"You've been spending too much time in Paris, my dear!" Erik said as he sat down opposite from me.  Then, he added, "Since you'll be here for awhile, I'll show all around this part of the Bocage.  This is only one end of the forest, and in my opinion, the prettiest end."

"What's at the other ?" I asked.

"Oh, there's a petting zoo for the children, a small train that takes you around that end of the forest as well as some excellent swimming and fishing areas.  It's more for the tourists than for the locals and brings in enough money to help keep this national park going, but it's not as quiet as this end is, which is why I like coming here instead," he replied, and then added, "Well, would you like to start eating?"

"Must you really ask?" I said mischievously.

Erik chuckled as he opened the hamper that he had brought with us and took out a small container that held some olives and small tomatoes, as well as some cheese wrapped in aluminum foil, a small round loaf of bread, another container that held some apricots, a small jar of cherry preserves, and a large bottle of mineral water.  "While this isn't very much, it's a wholesome repast and is quite adequate for our needs for the moment.  Here, let me slice some bread for you," he said as he retrieved a large bread knife from the hamper.

As he sliced the bread, I said, "Erik, I know you don't like to discuss your...past, but I would like to know how it is that you got here."

He paused from his task for a moment, and then asked, "What would you like to know?"

"How you came to be living here in France, here in the Bocage," I replied as I reached for a slice of bread.
Erik remained silent for a moment as he unwrapped the hunk of cheese, and then said, "My parents decided to leave Yugoslavia the year I was born.  Stalin had died the same year I was born and the Chetniks were threatening to unleash yet another wave of terror against their opponents, which of course included the Croats, and my parents felt that it was time to leave their beloved homeland.  It took my parents about a year to prepare for their departure.  They saved their money and gasoline rations and managed to get enough gasoline to power my father's small fishing boat to get us to Italy.  But it wasn't easy-there was always someone willing to betray them to the Chetniks!  And the trip wasn't easy either, for you see, we couldn't just sail straight across the Mediterranean to Italy-too many patrol boats guarded the coastline!  So, that meant that my father had to sail up the Croatian coast in order to try to get us to Venice but even that wasn't easy because Tito had an arrangement with the Italian authorities to turn back any refugees that tried to come into Italy.  I was too young to remember the trip, but my parents spoke of it often.  We had to sail up the entire coastline without being detected, and then hope we would come ashore without being stopped by the Italian navy before we could even make it onshore!  It was not an easy trip to make and to make things worse, my sister and mother were sick with some kind of virus, so my father had quite a task on his hands!  We were finally able to make it to Venice and to freedom but only because the British consul thought we were worthy of being granted asylum, and took steps to make sure we were granted it.  Had he not done so, I would be catching fish for a living instead of rats!"

"Your situation sounds like so many of those trying to come to America.  Who makes up those crazy laws in the first place?" I mused and then added, "So, you made it to Venice, and then what happened?"

"We stayed in Venice only a short time before moving on to France.  My father was able to get a job in the shipyards at Marseilles, but neither he nor my mother really liked living there-they complained about the high crime rate a lot, so after a year or two, we moved to Rouen," He replied as he poured some water into two cups he had taken out of the hamper.

I took the cup of water he offered me, and then asked, "So, how did you get a home here in the Bocage?"
He smiled and replied, "The house was to be a retirement home for my parents.  They had been looking around for some property for quite awhile before they found this place.  They had been looking for something that they could manage, even in their old age, but never really quite liked anything they found until they came here to the Bocage--either what they were looking at was too expensive or it was too run down and would be too expensive to repair.  Then, they found this place and they fell in love with it.  Of course, it helped that it was in an area that had been known for its fidelity to Mother Church during the Revolution!  At any rate, I wound up spending my summer vacations from school helping my parents fix this place up.  By law, my parents weren't allowed to do anything to the outside of the house since it would spoil the historic atmosphere of this area, but they were allowed to put in the patio as long as it would not be seen from the front as people went by.  They were also allowed to do anything they wanted to the interior.  I can't tell you the number of hours we put in plastering the walls and finishing the basement, or the inconveniences we all put up with while getting electricity put in!"
"But you have no indoor plumbing!" I exclaimed.

Erik shrugged and said, "My sister's not allowed to install pipes until she has installed central heating, and my brother-in-law doesn't want that because it will destroy the ambiance of the dacha, so I'm afraid you'll have to use the privy instead.  Besides, getting hooked up to the sewer line isn't cost effective anyway."

"Why not?" I asked, as he handed me a slice of gruyere cheese to eat with my bread.

"My sister and her husband only use it occasionally-usually only during the summer, and only a few weekends at that!  It would be too expensive to keep the place heated up in order to keep the pipes from freezing in the winter, so they're willing to put up with the privy in the meantime," he replied.

"But, if it's so expensive, why hang on to it?" I asked as I tore off another chunk of bread and put a piece of cheese on it.

Erik shrugged and replied, "Sentimental reasons, I suppose.  Besides, we both have fond memories of this place."  After a moment of silence, he added, "And now it's my turn to ask a question.  How was the gala last night.  I was unable to attend, so I didn't see it."

For a moment, I was puzzled for I remembered how he always managed to see performances at the opera house, no matter if they were sold out or not.  Finally, I said "It went rather better than I thought it would-both Carlos and Carlotta were gone.  You really didn't miss much, I guess, but did you hear about Carlos?"

He nodded and said, "I heard about his death on the radio.  What a shame!  Carlotta didn't show up either?"

"I guess not.  Actually, I thought it went better without her.  Isabeau and Sophie both sang beautifully and Carlos' replacement didn't sing too badly, either!" I replied.

"So how did the chorus do?" he asked as he took some olives and tomatoes from the container and gave me a few of each.

"Pretty well, I guess.  At least the director didn't have any complaints!" I replied as I took an olive and ate it.
"So, what about you?  What did he have to say about you?" Erik asked.

"Nothing, as far as I know, but the manager, M. Hauptmann says I can expect to get a letter from the music director asking me to audition next month," I replied.

"Excellent!  That's just the news I was hoping to hear!  Well, we'll start in tomorrow on more lessons-I'm not about to let you regress!" Erik exclaimed.

"But, I thought you said I needed a vacation!" I protested.

"Yes, but you can consider this to be a working vacation instead!  This is wonderful news!  I'm so happy for you, my dear!" he exclaimed, as he grabbed my hand and kissed it.  Just then, a peal of thunder sounded and he looked up at the sky briefly before turning to me and said, "My dear, I think the rain is returning much earlier than I had thought it would.  We'll have to cut our picnic short and head back to the house immediately!"  I nodded, and we quickly gathered up the uneaten food and after putting it in the hamper, we quickly left the picnic area and made our way back to the house.

We raced down the gravel footpath and as we emerged from the forest, I noticed a large square-shaped depression next to the house on the left side.  "What's that?' I asked and pointed to the depression,

Erik looked in the direction I was pointing and frowned.  "A dream that died!" he said rather sharply, and then added in a more gentle voice, "Come now, or we'll get soaked!"  He then took my hand and quickly led me to the house.  As we stood on the patio under the canopy of grape leaves, he fished the key from the pocket of the black shirt he was wearing and after unlocking the back door, we quickly entered the house, with not a moment to spare.  Just as he closed the door behind us, the rain started.  As we listened to the raindrops hit the roof and windows, he said, "We got in just in time-I would hate to have to dry yet another set of clothes!  Well, let me get some light in here and we'll continue our meal at the table."  He walked over to the table that was next to the wing-backed chair and lit the oil lamp that was on it, and then pulled a straight-backed chair from the corner of the room and placed it next to the table.  "We can continue our picnic here.  This isn't exactly what I had in mind for a picnic, but it will have to do for now-at least until after it stops raining!  If it stops raining before it gets dark, we can resume our tour of the forest.  In the meantime, we can occupy ourselves right here!"  Then, he turned up the flame of the lamp a bit more and motioned for me to sit in the straight-backed chair.  I sat down and looked around the room as he placed the hamper on the floor next to him and began to take the uneaten food out of it and put it on the table.  He then reached down and took a couple of cloth napkins out of the hamper and placed those as well on the table and said, "I had meant to get these out earlier but the storm came up so suddenly, it was just as well I didn't.  Now, we were talking about your voice lessons--we can have a lesson this afternoon after we've eaten and rested."

I continued to look around the room and then asked, "Did you come here often when you were younger?"

He nodded as he took a slice of bread and tore off a piece and ate it.  "Yes.  We spent almost every summer vacation we had when I was younger coming here to work on this place.  You see, it took my father a long time to come up with the money to get this old shack into livable condition.  He had to replace the roof, and the walls needed to be redone for one thing, and then my father decided to add on the patio and finish the basement and all of that takes money.  Since my father always paid cash on the barrelhead for everything, it took quite awhile to get this place finished."

"Did he add that upper level as well?" I asked as I pointed to the alcove.

Erik nodded and said, "Yes, that was to be my parents' bedroom.  Unfortunately, my father didn't have much time to enjoy it--it was the last project he lived to see completed!  He died of a heart attack shortly after I finished my studies at the conservatory."

"He must have been very proud of you.  But does it bother you to come here since there are so many memories?" I asked.

Erik shook his head and replied, "Not at all.  The memories I have of this place are almost all pleasant.  In fact, I consider it to be a refuge from the chaos of Paris.  Indeed, I wish I could live here instead, but a man has to make a living and there's not much to do around here except farm!"

"Was your father still working at the shipyard when he died?" I asked, trying to keep the conversation going.
Erik shook his head again and said after he finished eating his bread, "No, the shipyard was laying off workers by then-it was the beginning of the world-wide recession of the 'seventies.  He did manage to find work as a taxi driver though, which helped very much to ease the emotional pain of being laid off.  He also did a lot of gardening here at this place.  That grassy area between the house and the privy was once one gigantic vegetable garden.  Father was able to grow all our food there-potatoes, cabbages, carrots, leeks, beans, you name it!  We also used to have some apple and plum trees as well, that produced every year!  What a time my mother and sister had canning and preserving all of the bounty from this place!"

"They canned food?  On that thing?" I asked incredulously as I pointed to the wood stove on the wall behind me.
Erik burst out laughing, and then said, "No, we grew all of that here and then took it home with us to Rouen to do the canning.  No, I'm afraid that stove is only good for heating this house and maybe boiling water on the top of it for making tea!  I'll have to tell Slavitska what you just said-she'll get a kick out of that!"

Erik continued to chuckle as I squirmed in my seat.  "Well, I didn't know..." I muttered finally.  After a moment of awkward silence, I decided to change the subject and said, "You said your parents were from Yugoslavia, but how did you get a name like 'Erik'?"

"My baptismal name is Evginy, but my parents decided to let me change it when I first started school as a young child.  You see, the other children couldn't pronounce my name correctly, so to avoid any problems, my parents let me change my name to 'Erik'.  I've never regretted that decision for, by changing my name, I've always felt like I fit in better," he said as he opened the container of apricots.

"I see, so how did you get into music?" I asked, curious as to how a man from his background would get into the fine arts.

He took the knife out of the hamper and began to cut the apricots in half.  Finally, he said, "My parents knew that I was gifted, even as a young child, but at first, they weren't too sure how to handle my talent.  My father was a working man and didn't like the idea of his son being unemployed or underemployed while trying to make a living as a musician!  Besides, they thought the public schools were be able to teach me everything I would ever need to know.  It didn't occur to them that I would soon outgrow my music instructors at the lycee and would need additional training.  Finally our parish priest got involved and convinced then to let me take lessons from Rouen's best piano teacher.  She was an Italian lady, a Madame Avano, from Naples no less, who told me she suspected that I could sing as well.  She was the one who recommended me to the conservatory in Paris.  My parents were reluctant to let me go there-after all it's pretty expensive to go to music school, especially one of the best in the world!  But what could they do?  After all, I had passed my Bac the first time around, with flying colors to boot!  And besides, what could Rouen offer me besides a teaching position at one of the lycees in the city?  So, after much arguing, they finally let me go, but not without reservations on their part!  Now, it's my turn again to ask you some questions!  What part of America are you from?"

Shrugging my shoulders, I replied, "Well, I was born in St. Louis, Missouri, and when I was twelve, my family moved to Denver after my father got a promotion in the company he worked for-he was an accountant for a large chain of department stores.  At any rate, that's where I met my ex-husband.  We got married after I completed junior college, and we ended up moving around the States for the next twenty years-my ex- was enlisted Air Force, so that meant moving around a lot!  Then he retired from the Air Force, got a job in Denver, and then about two years ago, was transferred to Washington, D.C. where I was able to get a job as a tour guide for one of the Civil War battlefields outside of the city."

After he finished eating an apricot, Erik asked, "So, if you were still in America, where would you call home?  Missouri?  Washington?"

I shook my head and said, "Neither one.  Even though Pete calls St. Louis home, I consider Colorado to be my home."

"But, aren't your ex-husband's family there?" Erik asked.

I shook my head and said, "No, both my in-laws are dead now, and as for Brad's brothers, they're all scattered throughout the country-one lives is Texas, another lives in Michigan, and the third lives in Florida.  And as for my ex-, I don't think he'll ever move back to Colorado because his new wife and her family are from Virginia, and from what my daughter has said in the one letter I got from her, I doubt Brad will ever go back to Colorado!"
"But what about your children?" Erik asked.

"I shook my head and said, "I don't really get along with them all that well.  They never liked the fact I stayed Catholic after their father left the Church, and if Mme. Renard's suspicions are correct, my daughter's been using me to get more money and for what I don't know!  At any rate, Colorado is far away from my ex- and my kids, and yet it's close enough to Pete and Sharon to go visiting."

"And your parents, what about them?" Erik asked.

"They're both gone now-Dad died of a heart attack about five years ago, and Mom died of cancer a couple of years after that.  It's just as well, though.  They would be broken-hearted if they saw me now!" I replied.
"You must miss them very much!  Do you miss America as well?" he asked.

I nodded, and then said, "I miss a lot about America, but there are some things I don't miss at all.  Besides, my life is here, now."

"Do you remember when we first met?" Erik asked.  His decision to change the subject surprised me a little, but, knowing him better by this time, I took this change in stride.

"Now, how can I forget that?  You scared the life out of me there in the workroom!" I replied.

He smiled, and then said, "Actually, that wasn't the first time we met.  Do you remember the night you were helping Jean-Baptiste do inventory?"

Puzzled, I replied, "Yes, but why do you ask?"

"Do you remember what you saw in the costume room?" Erik asked.

"Do I ever!" I replied, and then added, "Now, wait a minute!  How would you know about that?"
Still smiling, he answered my question by asking, "How do you think?"

I sat back in my chair, and after a moment, said, "So, you're that skull I saw!  How could you do such a thing, frightening me like that!"

"I really didn't mean to frighten you, but you had me cornered.  I couldn't get out of the room without you seeing me, and after all, you had interrupted me while I was catching rats!  I had to do something, so I quickly pulled out a rubber mask that I always carry with me for just such emergencies, and put it on.  I'm truly sorry that I scared you so!" Erik replied, and then added, "Well, I guess I should put these things away..."  He began to gather the dirty containers together and then wrapped the cheese in the foil.

"Here!  Let me help you," I said.

"Very well, you can put the bread, cheese and preserves back in the refrigerator that's downstairs in the basement, and I'll take these things outside and rinse them off under the pump," he said as he rose from the wing-backed chair.  As he made his way to the back door, he added, "You might want to take the lamp with you.  It's pretty dark down there and I wouldn't want you to fall and hurt yourself!"

"I'll be careful, I promise," I reassured him as I put the cheese on top of the jar of preserves and balanced them in my left hand while taking the lamp with my right hand while making my way downstairs.