09-2008
Angel of Music
The warm air, filled with sunshine, was stirred by a gentle breeze as Raoul led Christine through an emerald forest. Wildlife stirred the nearby pond, creating audible ripples in the glassy water. A squirrel peeked out at the passing couple from his perch on an ancient oak tree, fascinated by their air of peace and hope. The man let go of the woman's hand and they both stopped next to a wild bed of beautiful flowers. Respectfully, the blonde figure knelt down and picked the largest, brightest blossom and presented it to his bride. Sunlight reflected off her ring frightened the squirrel away, though, when the woman took the flower and breathed in its wonderful aroma.
Raoul rose slowly,
never taking his eyes off of the flower. They stood that way for
several long moments, Raoul studying the flower, Christine with her
eyes closed over the flower, both smiling. "Little Lotte could not
have been more beautiful," he began at length, "than she was in
that golden dress beneath the late summer sun." Having spoken, the
man lifted his eyes to meet hers, which by now were open. Her brown
curls fell back behind her shoulders when she lifted her chin to
better face him. It seemed that her smile might have been a source
of light itself, for the fullness of it.
"That day,"
Christine continued thoughtfully, "Little Lotte found new joy and
realized that she did not need the Angel lof Music to make her soul
soar." The woman had been walking as she spoke, entering a large
clearing a yard from where Raoul stood watching her. "All she
needed was her true love," she extended her free hand toward him,
and he approached her, "by her side." With a firm but gentle
grasp, he took her hand and drew her to him, his smile growing as he
did so. There, in the shade of the flourishing trees, just barely
inside the forest, Raoul gazed into Christine's eyes – and
Christine into Raoul's – for a spell before either elected to
move. In one smooth motion, Raoul took the woman before him into his
arms and carried her over the threshold into the clearing.
The ballerina laughed freely as her groom twirled her around, and continued until her feet had met the ground. As the clouds above parted to shower the lovebirds with the full light of the sun, Christine found her hands in Raoul's. Through his golden eyes, she gazed into his soul – so full of life and its joys. Seeing the passion in him that stemmed from these triggered her adrenaline.
Christine's eyes glowed with the wonderment of her newfound hope and freedom, only adding to Raoul's delight. Though it was against the rules of society he had been raised under, he was not in the least reluctant or afraid to transgress boundaries of class to be with the woman he loved. He only wished he could have been reunited with her sooner than he had. The only thing hindering his love for her – and this just barely – was the bruise in his soul from all the years of missing her. "Christine," he sang, "I love you."
"Raoul, I love you too," Christine responded with song, their voices fading on a beautiful chord. When the sound disappeared into the afternoon, their lips met, soft against each other. No sooner had they parted than they were together again, and again, time after time, each time the kiss deepening a little more. Raoul's hands moved to his beloved's head and the small of her back, cradling her head and holding her close. Christine buried her free hand in her groom's thick hair; her other hand, still clutching the flower, slid up his chest, over his shoulder, and around his neck. The moments seemed hours, the world theirs to conquer. All doubts either had about their relationship were drowned alongside the despair of the past. The two were one, as reflected in their shadow.
When they parted, Raoul was breathless and Christine trembling with excitement. Neither was quite prepared for the after-effects of the adrenaline rush, and they rested against each other as they recovered from the sudden deficit of energy. No sooner had they caught their breath than something unexpected caught their attention. A sweet melody floated down from above, undeniably not from any earthly source. The song was a heavenly rendition of Monsieur Daaé's favorite piece: an upbeat dance that Raoul and Christine had always adored.
Memories tumbled through the minds of the young couple as the song progressed: dancing, running, playing, crying, caring, Christine's father… "Christine," Raoul turned her around, only to find a reminiscent smile confirming that Christine's thoughts were on the same past as Raoul's. "It's Daddy's jig," she reminded him. "Our song," he added. For several seconds they simply stood there remembering, not quite sure what to do. Then Christine spoke: "It's the Angel of Music," she whispered. Raoul looked up to the heavens and knew it to be true. Words did not seem to suit the occasion, so the man just laughed. At this, Christine's eyes lit up. In a moment, they were children again: laughing and dancing and chasing each other around the clearing to the tune of pure eternal bliss.
-Fin-