A Promise

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   The very next day, at the very same time, Nadette waltzed through the forest along the river bank, not even stopping to pick up the river smoothed rocks that invaded her vision.

She desperately hoped Erik would be there. She had so many questions for the mysterious boy! Where had he come from? What was he doing so close to the widow's house? Why did he wear a mask?

She decided she would not ask her last question, as that seemed like a very private matter. Perhaps, she thought, he had a mole that he did not like for people to see.

Nadette did not mind moles, though. Mama had one on her cheek, and Nadette thought it just made her unique!

As she pondered these questions, the sad house came into view, and she knew she was close to where she had met Erik the day before. So, she began looking around, her eyes searched the trees and the bushes and the brambles until she saw him. She grinned as she walked up behind him. He was sitting on a small rock and snapping twigs to pass the time.

"Hello, Erik!" She greeted him.

The boy spun around. He had been entirely distracted by his thoughts. He had been thinking of his mother, and of Lucy, and of the broken window, and of how cold it had been the night before. Mostly though, he was wondering if little Nadette would want to see him again. He was certain she would stay far away from here, but here she was! She had come.

And so, despite himself, he smiled and said, "Hello, Nadette."

Nadette was delighted that he had remembered her name, and had not called her by her first name, "You remembered! Most people do not. The paperboy even calls me Tabby. I have not told him how I hate it when he does that."

Erik was just happy she was talking to him, "Why not?"

"Well because... because it is rude! And he smiles so wide when he calls me Tabby. I'm afraid I do not have the heart to tell him to stop!" She explained.

"Oh, I see." he replied, "You said yesterday that you are not French?"

Nadette nodded. She loved to tell this story.

"Yes! My mother and I are German, though I was actually born here a few days after Mama arrived..."

And so little Nadette began telling him her whole story. This of course led to tales about how the other children were uninteresting, and of her favorite food, and how she was learning to play the pianoforte. She wondered if she was talking too much, and suddenly felt very self-conscious.

"Oh! I must apologize! I am talking far too much!" She exclaimed.

Erik did not think so. Erik liked hearing her stories, and he loved that she was treating him as if he were not the monster his mother had told him he was.

"Oh," he said, "I do not mind."

"Really?" She asked him, "Mama says I have a bad habit to saying too much."

"No, I quite enjoyed it." He admitted a little sheepishly.

Nadette was elated. He liked her talking? How very strange!

The largest smile crossed her face and she said, "But what about you?"

"Me?"

"Why, of course! I want to know about you!"

Erik began to feel uncomfortable. This could turn into dangerous territory rather quickly.

"Oh. Well, what do you want to know?" He asked carefully.

His change in demeanor was not unnoticed by the young girl, and so she smiled at him reassuringly.

"Well, where do you live?" She asked him.

With one finger, he pointed over to the sad house, "There."

"But, that's where the widow lives!"

"Yes," he said slowly. "She is my mother."

"Really?"

Erik nodded, his eyes downcast.

"I never knew she had a child." She said softly.

Erik made no reply. Instead, he waited for her next question.

Nadette decided he did not want to talk about serious matters. So she asked, "What is your favorite color?"

The boy was visibly relieved, "Red."

"I like green." Nadette replied.

The two asked each-other questions for the rest of the time they had, and though Erik was more relaxed, the question he dreaded sat and festered in the back of his mind.

So, after Nadette had turned to go home, with the promise that she would see him tomorrow he blurted out, "Aren't you going to ask about it?"

Nadette spun back around, puzzled, "About what?"

"About...well about this!" He gestured to his mask.

"Well," she spoke carefully, "I must admit I am curious, but I would never ask such a personal question. It is private."

"You don't want to tear it off and find out what lies beneath?" He questioned doubtfully.

"Oh! Oh Erik, of course I wouldn't do such a thing!" She said in shock.

Erik's amber eyes once again found the ground, but snapped back to meet her blue ones when she spoke softer, "I promise I will not ask, nor will I take off your mask, unless I have your permission to do so. Alright?"

Erik's young heart swelled with some emotion he had never felt before at her genuine words.

"Alright."

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