Beautiful Music by Kathlyn Lammers Page B

like he had the first day she was born into this world. He allowed a small smile to escape his lips as they walked. Mary had looked to him for comfort in the dark. And she should. Nothing was going to hurt her when Alaric was around. Through the dark corners, the murky water, and the death traps, Mary was safe with her father.
    ***
    “Jama mon M. Fermier!”Those were Rahab’s opening words as she and Madame Wenton came down after the show. Being a gypsy, Rahab spoke a language that both the adults picked up so they could understand her when she was angry.
    “He’s just doing to his job,”
    “He doesn’t know what his job is!”Rahab was angry, and it was obvious. And she turned away. Madame Wenton turned to her daughter, who was seated at the piano bench, a plate of food on her lap.
    “How are you doing, Mary?”
    “Daddy said I could dance tomorrow.”
    “Ah,” With a slight glance at Alaric, who was comforting Rahab, Madame Wenton advance towards to her. “Well, Daddy doesn’t know everything about dancing…” She bent down to check to injured limb, relieved to find it was already returned to normal size. “However, this time, I can allow him to be right.”
    “Pardon?” Alaric turned with a half smile.
    “Mommy said you don’t know anything.” Mary said with a grin, and the Madame blushed.
    “Hush. Rahab, could you take Mary upstairs? I’ll be up shortly….”
    “If I don’t drown myself in the lake first, “Ahab said, bitterly. Alaric tried to smile at her.
    “We will talk later, Rahab. Go on.”
    It took awhile for the girls to leave, but when they did, there was a comfortable silence.
    “Daddy doesn’t know anything?” Alaric repeated with a grin, going to pick up the plate Mary left. The Madame shrugged.
    “I just wanted to make sure she really was alright to dance tomorrow.” Madame Wenton stretched her legs, legs that had known nothing but dance since she was nine. Alaric watched in admiration. Even now, she still took his breath away.
    “She should be,” Alaric reached out for her. “One day, Madeline, I shall write a great Theatre. And Mary and Rahab will dance the lead, Carol will sing angelically, and even you shall have a part.”
    “Don’t you write a part for me, Alaric,” she twisted out of his hold. “My days at the stage are over. I had my rein once.”
    “I remember,” he said, almost dreamily. “Those were the days.”
    “And I am older than you, you forget,” she said. “I no longer wish it, Alaric, please.”
    “You were not too old to give me such a beautiful daughter,” he said
    “That was 15 years ago,” she shook her head.  “I must go to the girls, now. I’ll return when I can.”
    And then she was gone, leaving Alaric alone.
    It was funny how the people he loved most in life knew his worst. Madeline had been the one to rescue him from a life of pain and torture. Mary knew how cynical and depressed he was. And Rahab herself was a gypsy, an offspring of the very band that had once captured him. And yet he wondered many things about the past. Was his mother still alive? Was his Madeline still young enough to give him another daughter? What did Rahab indulge herself in with those band of gypsies? She had started too young at so many things. The once and only time he had slept with her, out of animal lust , he had found her not a virgin.
    He remembered it clearly, that night burned into his memory. They had gone out, celebrating her acceptance into university. Stumbling home after the clubs, they fell into bed, their mouths devouring each other.
    He remembered tasting every inch of her, feeling the toned body from years and years of dancing. He ran his hands up and down her legs, over her arms and flat stomach, until she pushed him aside, a devilish grin on her face as she rolled on top of him. Undoing his belt with a practiced hand, and pulling out his manhood,