A Home in the Country
Rumors in a small village spread. It didn’t matter to Erika, she rather enjoyed being the subject of rumor. Five years ago, she had been the fabled Mirage stalking the halls of the grand theatre in Paris. Now, she was the queer woman who always wore a heavy mourning veil and rarely left her home. By now, no one believed her when she said she was a mourning widow. They instead took her for a loose woman, never in wedlock.
It was true that she had never been married. At least, not legally. Her heart had forever belonged to one man, and only one man. It was also true that she was in mourning. She would forever be in mourning. Her heart had died six years ago, in the cellars of an opera house. A bullet that was meant for her.
Sometimes, she wished it had found its mark. But if it had, Charlotte would have never been born.
Erika opened the bedroom door a crack and looked in on her child. She had always enjoyed watching her sleep in the morning light. She looked….so, so much like her father. His eyes, his hair, and….thank God…his beautiful face.