Harmony
Raoul, Vicomte de Chagny looked across the table at his wife, Christine. "Is something bothering you, my dear?"
Christine jolted her head up in surprise. "What? Oh, nothing. Nothing at all."
Raoul studied her face, trying to guess whether she spoke the truth or had fallen into another fit of depression. Thoughtfully, he gazed her brown eyes and blond hair, as he munched on the last of his dinner. Three years earlier, Christine had performed at the Paris Opera. A deeply deformed man who wandered about the basement of the Opera House (know to the public as the Phantom of the Opera) had fallen in love with her voice. He hid behind a mask, but down within his lair, Christine had seen his face. Both the sight of it and the rage that filled the so-called Phantom terrified the young singing star. She knew that the man, whose hatred for himself and the world was uncontrollable, would kill her. Raoul had promised to love and protect Christine, but even today, he feared he could never protect her fully.
"Raoul?" Christine's voice broke the silence. "I think it is you who is in the clouds now," she laughed.
Her husband looked up and smiled at her musical laugh.
"Raoul, there is something I must tell you. We are going to have a baby."
"Oh, my dear, that is simply wonderful! Magnificent! There is so much planing we must do...." his voice trailed off. "Exactly how much do we need to plan for?" Again, Christine's giggle, which she had attempted to stifle, danced in the air.
Months had passed since Christine announced the birth of their child would be soon. She sat in the lovely garden, splendidly alive with rose bushes and green plants. In the center of the courtyard, a giant oak ascended into the sky. Upon the grass, the sun cast playful shadows. It was in the shade of that tree where Christine sat.
Raoul looked at her from the porch. He had rarely seen her so happy, so at peace in quite some time. He hoped with all his heart that at last, with the child, she could move on. But still, one the remained to trouble him: she had not sung since her departure from the Opera House.
"Monsieur...monsieur," a voice repeated from behind him.
"Yes?" he asked, turning around to see that the voice belonged to his elderly housekeeper.
"Monsieur, there is lady out front going by the name of Meg Giry out front."
"Oh, yes. But of course. Send her in at once."
The housekeeper nodded, obliging, and turned inside.
Raoul scurried down to inform Christine of Meg Giry, an old friend of hers, arrival.
"Meg!" Christine exclaimed with delight as if they were girls once more.
"It's so wonderful to see you!" Meg replied, hugging her friend. She stepped back and then nodded respectfully to the Vicomte de Chagny. "Monsieur."
"Please, Meg. Raoul," he insisted.
So the other common pleasantries were made and shortly after Raoul left the ladies to talk.
"I'm so glad you could come, Meg. I wrote to you as soon as we knew when the baby was to be born."
"I am so glad to be here."
"How is your mother?" Madame Giry was the ballet instructor at the opera house. Both girls' performances originated in ballet, and that was how they became friends.
"Not so well, I fear. She is getting on in age, and is often quite ill."
"Oh. Send my regards to her, if you would?"
"Of course, Christine."
It was two days later, in the early hours of the morning, when the stars were beginning to die and a thin gray line traced the horizon at the eastern sky that the baby was born. It was a baby girl whom the parents named Harmony.
Just as the crimson fire of the sunrise would soon chase away the darkness of the night, Christine began to sing to her baby, to chase away the tears that she wept. Perhaps her song could finally chase away the darkness left from her past as well.