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Chapter 2

"If the moon and stars should fall
They'd be easy to replace
I would lift you up to heaven
And you would take their place"

I Saw Red - Warran

The familiar red skull sealed letter that lay on the white cotton pillow beside me was the first thing I noticed when my eyes fluttered open. It was as if the world seemed to stop spinning as my heart beat picked up frantically. Picking it up, I felt butterflies fill my stomach while I held it up towards the sunbeams that filled the small room. It was from him. Feeling dazed, I used my pointer finger to rip open the envelope. Shakily, I pulled the letter that elegant penmanship was written clearly and in bold ink.

Dear Mademoiselle,

Welcome and salutations to my opera house. You and your sister's sudden appearance without my knowledge is intriguing. My condolences to the unfortunate circumstances that led your sister with an unnecessary injury from the curtain fall. The stagehand responsible for not being in his dutiful position at the catwalks will be taken care of I assure you.

It came to my understanding that you are to be remaining here temporarily. Auditions begin the morrow at eight, I will be watching. I expect to see you there. I do not tolerate those whom cannot pull their own weight taking refuge in my opera house.

Respectfully,

O.G.

Blinking, I turned the letter over to find a blank side. Rereading the words that were carefully written in fine script, I fought to keep from swooning. The Phantom had wrote me a letter. Although, his suspicion was hinted heavily. Pressing the letter to my chest, I sighed dreamily and closed my eyes. The only problem was that Abby and I were stuck here in the 19th century where there was no Wi-Fi or technology. We needed to get back to our time. Yet, you don't want to leave, do you? My mind taunted.

The wheels in my head started to turn. What if we are here to change the story in Andrew Lloyd Webber's plotline? To help play cupid in the Phantom's relationship with Christine? I couldn't hate Christine more than I did in that moment.

"Rose!" A voice muffled through the closed door as a light knock followed. "It's Meg and Christine, may we come in?"

Speak of the devil.

Stuffing the letter and it's envelope under the mattress, I called out meekly. "Sure!"

A moment later, the bubbly figure of Meg bounced into the room all blond hair flying and laughing blue eyes with a smiling Christine close behind. "Do all American's have such confusing speech?" Meg inquired brightly as she mouthed 'sure'. The brunette beside her laughed quietly.

"Meg, don't be rude." Christine admonished her friend before turning to face me. "Hello Rose, my name is Christine. I'm sorry about your sister." Her words were sincere and the concern in her soft features were genuine. It was hard to dislike her when I felt absolutely gobsmacked in being face to face with Emmy Rossum. Although, it was her character than the actual actress. I swallowed and forced a weak smile.

"Thank you." The words sounded foreign to my own ears as I muttered them.

"What brings you here?" Christine asked politely. "Do you sing?"

"I do," I answered the latter, pointedly avoiding her first question since I didn't have the faintest idea myself. "I used to do theater a lot in my school in America." I absolutely had adored theater arts. Becoming another person on stage was exhilarating.

Meg gaped, her hand coming up to cover her shock. "American schools have theaters?" Her blue eyes widened in delight at the prospect. I was mentally face palming as I forgot that the school system in the 19th century wasn't as modern or renovated as they were in my time. Hopefully my words wouldn't be contradicted by any other American they come across. Christine looked curious as well as both girls waited for my response.

Chuckling, I shrugged. "They are not as grand as this one and can hold a small assembly."

"Can you sing for us?" Meg begged. Her hands clasped mine as she puffed out her lower lip. "Christine sings as well. She is personally taught by her mysterious Maestro, but we never came across a singer who performed in American schools." I caught the look Christine shot the blonde when she mentioned the infamous 'Angel of music".

"It's nothing," Christine softly said, humbly taking the attention off herself. "But please do sing for us."

Only knowing modern songs from my time, I had a limited knowledge of what to sing. "Not right now, but another time maybe. I just really need to see my sister Abby," my eyes begged them to understand. "Please take me to her, I do not know the way." Meg's eyes softened and she gave my hands a light squeeze.

Meg pulled me by the hand off the bed. "Come, I will take you but we must hurry. Auditions are starting and Maman wants you there."

"I will go to the rehearsal and cover for you both," Christine smiled empathetically in my direction, before giving Meg a kiss on the cheek and slipping quietly but quickly out of Meg's room.

When we reached the door in the long corridor that led to the infirmary, I ignored Meg's pleas for discretion and barged in. Abigail was sleeping soundly in one of the many cots. Her black silk strands spread out across the pillow. The bags under her eyes and the needle mark on her arm suggested that she was sedated. My eyes drifted from her features to the light purple Hyacinth flower which a black ribbon was tied to the stem that lay on the end table. It was a bell-shaped, fragrant flower whose symbolism represented the asking of forgiveness from the recipient.

My mother loved gardening when she was younger. Before my father passed away, she would teach me the names of flowers and their meanings.

There was no question in my mind on who it was from. The jealousy from the unexpectedly kind gift was shocking as it threatened to quench the desire for my sister's well-being. Closing my eyes, I forced those thoughts away from my mind and took my sister's hand in my own. Abigail was probably confused and scared waking up in a new setting, a new time, and new faces. This flower would most likely bring a smile to her face. My heart swelled at the kind action of the supposedly cold hearted Phantom towards my unconscious sister. Tears welled in my eyes as I gazed down at her.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered. The wish I had uttered that night caused my sister to be in this state and here I was feeling bitter that I didn't receive a flower from Erik. Leaning down, I brushed my lips across Abby's forehead. "I will fix this," I promised. "I have an idea and I'm not sure if it will work, but I will get us back home."

"Rose?" Abigail's eyebrows narrowed as she frowned groggily. Her eyelashes fluttered before she sighed and buried her nose into the pillow.

"Rose," Meg startled me from my thoughts as she pulled me away from Abby's bedside. "We need to leave now. The doctor is coming and Maman will be angry with us both if we stay a second longer."

"But-" I started to protest. The urge to stay with my sister was strong, but I knew I needed to earn our keep and needed money to pay for Abigail's medical assistance. My ballerina days were more than half a decade in the past and I haven't been in gymnastics for a year. I could already see the humiliation if I attempted to dance after all those years. Abby was the dancer in the family. I was the writer and artist, not exactly dancer material. If only it was me lying there on that cot instead of you, Abs.

My protest was lost on Meg as she shooed me out the door and tugged me towards the stage. The theater was busy. Stage hands moved on the platform shouting and arranging set pieces. Madame Giry stood in front of a group of girls, using her cane to tap a girl's ankle as if scolding her on a poor move. The managers stood bickering with each other as they attempted to reason with a furious Carlotta.

"Girls in position," Madame Giry's voice was strict as she had the dancers' line up to rehearse. "One, two, three. One, two, three." She circled them and motioned for them to continue before turning to face us as we stood sheepishly with flushed faces from running. Meg looked down before muttering an apology and dashed to join the other girls. Christine surprised me by coming up to me, grabbing my hand and squeezing it before giving me a reassuring smile as she left to join Meg. I was left alone with the stricken woman whose features did not appear impressed with my tardiness.

"Can you dance?" Madame Giry lifted a brow as she studied my figure in contemplation. She obviously was not one to beat around the bush.

"Not well."

"Can you sing?" Her eyes narrowed as if judging my worth. "The Opera Populaire does not accept anything less than talent, my dear girl." Her unspoken words hung in the air as I followed her meaning. If I didn't prove useful, Abby and I would end up on the harsh streets of Paris. Which was no place for two girls, let alone one being injured. Madame Giry softened at the indecision and fear that played across my face. "If you cannot dance, I will recommend you to Madome Burboise. She is our seamstress and is in dire need of an apprentice. But I cannot guarantee a position as she does not like new faces."

"I can dance a piece from my ballot days," I said quickly. "I'm a bit rusty but I remember the assemblé perfectly." The elder Giry nodded and motioned for me to start when ready. The seamstress apprenticing was appealing, yet not warranted as a wise choice. Perhaps, I could meet Madame Burboise in the future and win her trust so that I may support Abby and I in the costume department away from curious gazes and questioning looks. In the meantime, dancing would have to do.

Closing my eyes, I started to get in position. Pulling memories from my mind, I desperately attempted to recall those lessons. Arabesque is one of the most popular basic Ballet moves. It is a position supported on one leg, which can be straight or in demi-plié, with the other leg extended behind and at right angles to it, and the arms held in various positions creating the longest possible lines from the fingertips outward. I positioned into the arabesque before moving my limbs gracefully as I could into an attitude, a standing position on one leg with the other leg lifted in the front or the back with my knee bent at an angle of 90 degrees and well turned out so that my knee is higher than my foot. The supporting foot was à terre, sur la pointe or sur la demi-pointe. My arm on the side of the raised leg is held over my head in a curved position while the other arm is extended to the side. I ended with an assemble as I shoot one leg up into the air and then jump the second leg to join my two legs together in the air and landed awkwardly in fifth position of plie after the jump.

I was out of breath as I stood under Antoinette Giry, the Prima ballerina's impassive gaze.

"You are out of practice, but your form is good," she said finally. A hint of a smile pulled at her tight lips as she studied the anticipation that was sure to be seen on my face. "You need training. Rehearsal starts every morning at eight until noon. I will have Meg take you to Madame Burboise after practice to receive your costume. In the meantime, I wish for you to observe the girls in preparation for the upcoming production of Hannibal."

Squealing inwardly, I kept my excitement hidden as I nodded acknowledging Madame Giry's words. Perhaps, I would survive this after all.

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