Pie Jesu

Pie Jesu

Pie Jesu

Pie Jesu

Qui tollis peccata mundi

Dona eis requiem

Dona eis requiem

Young Jessup McInerny, Julia and Helen's youngest brother sings the requiem with Christine, accompanied by Gustave on violin and Erik on piano.

Posters of Meg's performances over the years provide background to the closed casket covered with a spray of pink roses, tulips and snapdragons sitting stage center on an oblong dais. Once the hymn is finished, Edward takes over at the piano, playing the music of the day. Members of cast and crew and friends gather in the theater to pay their respects. As with most affairs for the company, a buffet is provided and quite soon the somber air of the Requiem is replaced by a few cast members singing along to Edward's s of the songs of the day and conversations interspersed with occasional bursts of laughter.

"Rather than having a funeral mass, I think Meg would prefer a service in the theater – a full audience for her to bid farewell to the world" he said to Erik when the four friends met again, once his grief allowed him to think more clearly. Grateful Erik was still speaking to him at all.

"No church services?" Miss Fleck asked. "What does Adele think? She is very devout…" Catching herself, she pressed a hand against her mouth.

"A priest came shortly after we discovered Meg was dead," Erik says. "Christine telephoned the church and the person she spoke to thought it wise if a priest came right away – something about the soul leaving the body." He shrugged. "I know nothing about such things. The man was most kind, curious – the entire situation was unlike anything else he ever experienced, I am certain, but asked no questions, simply performed his duties and left with a nice donation for his church."

"Meg might have been looking down with a smile on her face at the poor man," Squelch said. "Poor father. Called to an amusement park to perform Extreme Unction in the infirmary on a woman looking more like a mummy from Egypt than a human being just recently died."

The attempt at humor brought a small laugh to each of them – breaking some of the tension created at the mention of Adele. Each of them studiously avoiding any reference to her. What did one say?

"Meg was not a church goer – she preferred going to the theater," Gregory said. "She loved performing. Maybe too much."

"Even as the Oo La La Girl?" Erik asked. "I used to wonder if she had been encouraged to go to the city, audition for the ballet…"

"Stop it." With those words, Squelch did just that – squelched Erik's attempt to blame himself again for Meg being Meg. "We all had to work here to make Phantasma a success. Even Adele said so."

"Still…she was just coming into her own in Paris."

"I do not know about Paris, but here she was a star," Miss Fleck said. "You could see it in her eyes when she was on stage. The ballet would have meant a lot of hard work with no guarantee she would be the prima – what she did here, she could do in her sleep and get much more attention."

"If you want to know the truth, I never really knew when she was not performing."

"Gregory!" Grace exclaimed. "You of all people saying that. You adored her. Was only yesterday you were tearing away at Erik."

"I know. I know. I do…did – if anyone knew her, it was me and I never knew who she was. Never knew what would make her happy. I so wanted her to be happy, but, except for a few moments – mainly with LuLu – I doubt she ever was."

"Performing here is what made her happy," Squelch concluded for all of them. "Give her center stage one more time that is what she would want."

"So, the theater, not the church?" Erik concluded.

"No churches." Gregory nodded, offering his hand. "Thank you for the offer of the theater."

Erik took the outstretched hand in both of his. "We shall do her proud."

The Wake appears to be the success Gregory hoped. A time of joyful remembrance of the woman he loved for as long as he can remember. A few hours where he is able to forget his sorrow – trying to see a life where the stunning blonde girl he first met crossing the Atlantic would not be present – for better or worse – imagining the latter.

"You do not think it odd no one has asked us about Adele?" Christine asks as she, Erik and Gustave retire backstage after completing their performance.

"Julia and Helen invited La Sorelli to help them greet everyone passing the casket to answer questions," Gustave says, tossing a look over his shoulder, throwing his young bride a small wave. The sisters and retired prima ballerina are positioned in a short receiving line at the head of the stairs leading to the stage. Joining them are Margaret and Emilie, handing out memento moris – a postcard of Meg as The Pink Lady. Emilie's presence a last minute decision based on a temper tantrum suggesting her conversations with the mourners would be more favorable to Meg if allowed to participate.

"I am old enough – I am certainly tall enough," she pouted, casting a side eye at Margaret whose height she did indeed challenge.

Margaret, at fifteen appeared to have reached her full height at 4' 10", while Emilie had yet to grow into her long arms and legs, suggesting the ten-year-old would be tall like her father. For the moment, they were of comparable height, only moderately shorter than Julia and Helen.

"Do not think this is the end of the conversation, little sister," Gustave said. "We simply do not have the time to deal with your hysterics."

"She will be fine," Julia said. "Will you not? Just smile and hand everyone a card."

With a screwed up face, the girl agreed. Too many years in Julia's care advised not to push the young blonde woman, now her sister-in-law, too far. Helen and Veronique's presence only ad

"Where is Raoul?" Erik asks.

"Keeping Nadir company if you can believe it," Gustave laughs lightly. "He offered to stay close to him once he and Maman arrived. I am not sure if Uncle is feeling any comfort from his presence, he is already beyond distressed. I did not want to leave him on his own, though. I was grateful for Raoul's suggestion."

"Are you sure he will not mind?" Irene McInerny asked when Christine asked her to tend to Adele for a few days until something more permanent could be arranged. "Sometimes people prefer strangers to care for their sick family members."

"If that is the case, Nadir Khan is not the man I believe him to be," Christine said. "He trusts you and thinks the world of Helen. I am only happy you are willing to help until we understand what we are dealing with. Your family has been a real blessing to all of us."

"Even having Martin drive?" Irene chuckles, tapping her eldest son on the shoulder from the back seat of the Packard.

"It is my job, Ma," the gangly redhead laughs from the driver's seat. "See my cap – says Hotel Phantasma, it does. Better than the waiter's job for me – too many people in the restaurant for my taste. Not happy with this or that. Had to watch me temper."

"Too much like your Pa."

"Well, it got me a better job. Get to drive nice cars and all."

"I can understand a full house being stressful," Christine says. "My Pappa and I lived on the road for much of my young life. I am often overwhelmed myself."

"Yes, ma'am, driving about with one or two passengers is a sight better than chatty brats runnin' about all the time."

"Do not speak of your brother and sisters like that, Marty."

"Hah, tell me you are na likin' workin' in the nursery with only one or two babbies you don have to suckle."

"Marty!"

Christine laughs.

"You have no idea how grateful I am to you and the mister for the employment you have given our family."

"You have no idea how grateful Erik and I are having your family becoming part of ours," Christine said. "Here we are. I think we can handle your mother's bags. Just wait to drive me and Mr. Khan to the theater."

The two women walk up to the door of the brownstone house, much like her own, if smaller and not as ornate.

The carved oak door, with an embossed glass window opened before they reached the top of the short stairway. "I do not know what to do, Christine," Nadir said. "Thank you for coming, by the way. I am at a loss. She soiled herself. Will not eat. Will not speak. Just lies in bed staring at the canopy over the bed."

"Your housekeeper?"

"I could not let her see Adele like this," he replied. "My wife is a proud woman and the gossip…well, you know. I am already hearing rumors about what really happened in Meg's dressing room."

"Raoul was never one of Nadir's favorite people – but then again, neither was Meg," Christine says. "Trying to belong, no doubt."

"He is actually getting along fine with the crew," Gustave says. "I think he is actually happy now – working with his hands. Nadir adores Helen, so Raoul is part of the package."

"You are being most tolerant," Christine says with a touch of sarcasm, teasing her son.

"Julia pretty much forces it on me – he and Helen visit quite often, and I have learned not to argue with my wife."

"You mean to say you did not learn that from me?" Erik chuckles.

"The McInerny's have had quite an effect on all our lives," Christine says. "Irene is with Adele now."

"Adele? Hello it is Christine. I have Irene McInerny with me, she is going to stay with you for a while."

The darkened bedroom might as well be empty for the lack of response. The woman lying on the double bed beneath a duvet of brilliant read looks almost childlike. The presence of the petite woman diminished in her grief…regret…sorrow. Christine was not certain if any of those terms was appropriate. Adele might as well be dead herself and could be mistaken for such were it not for the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

"Some light and air might be helpful," Irene said, removing her coat, hanging it in the armoire, before walking to one of the two tall windows overlooking a garden, throwing open the heavy damask drapes, and unlatching the window. "There that is better."

"Yes. It is," Christine replied, walking to the bed. Sitting on the edge, she smoothed a few damp curls from her friend's forehead. "Adele, can you hear me?" The dark eyes offered no response, not a glimmer of recognition.

Staring instead at what? Where has she gone? Back to the Garnier where she could pound the floor once with her staff and bring order to chaos? That was always her gift. The person one could seek out when the world went awry – not for a soft word or a pet, but for reason. But for all the matter-of-fact behavior, when the praise came, you knew it was real. "You did well. He will be pleased."

Irene joined her, pressing a hand against Christine's back. "Let me tend to her," the older woman said. "The mister said she soiled herself, I should like to be certain she is clean and dry."

"Mr. Khan's first wife was an invalid for a time before she passed…"

"Even so," Irene said, with a small smile. "A man is still a man."

"Let me help," Christine said, walking to the bathroom. "A pan of warm water. There should be some lotions and powders…"

"Linens to make nappies as well..."

The two women worked in silent tandem, changing bedclothes and the nightgown and undergarments of the woman who could not or would not acknowledge their presence.

Acknowledging the order of the room and the occupant, Christine said, "I must go – the Wake will be starting soon, and I think it will be good for Nadir to leave the house for a while."

"Aye," Irene said. "She is fine for now. I will find the kitchen and prepare some broth for her in a bit."

"Thank you." Christine took another moment to kiss Adele on her forehead. "Be well, my friend."

"I shall take good care of her."

Christine stopped at the door, turning back, she returned to the bed, lifting the duvet. "Her feet. We did not tend to her feet…"

Irene cocked her head. "They were in clean stockings…there was no need…"

Christine shook her head, pulling off the wool stockings. "They were badly damaged from dancing…" Her voice catches at the sight of the mangled toes.

"Dearest lord almighty," Irene exclaimed. "You go on, I will take care of her. Give them a good massage…fresh stockings."

Christine hesitated, her aqua eyes filled with tears.

"I will take care of her. I promise." Irene took her arm, drawing her back to the door. "Best be going. Mr. Khan…the wake…"

"Yes. All that," Christine said. "Thank you."

"No words at all?" Erik asks.

Christine shakes her head. "No."

"The act more than she could bear."

"Yes. Can people will themselves to die?"

Erik response is a wry grin.

"You?"

"Many times – more than I can recall," he says.

"Do you think she will succeed?"

"Possibly, I realize now my will to live was stronger than any desire to die, thankfully. I do not know about our Madame Giry – once determined to accomplish something she always succeeded."

"I hope she fails. This once, I hope she fails."

"Yes. Well, we shall see." Taking her arm, he leads her back toward the Wake. "For now we must see to our guests and pay our last respects to Meg."