A/N Thanks to everyone who reviewed my prologue chapter!
I am being deployed overseas in a couple of days with the Army and I don't think I will have internet access for at least a couple of weeks. So unfortunately I won't be able to update this story often. But with my trusty laptop I will accumulate many more chapters so when I do update it will be a big chunk! I can probably update a couple more before I leave but we will see.
Also, I need a beta reader! If anyone is willing to do that for me I would really appreciate it. Just send me an e-mail.
Chapter One
A Meeting in the Square
Christine squinted against the sunlight that penetrated her eyelids. When she cleared her eyes and regained her sensibilities she saw that she was in La Place de la Concorde back in Paris! She inhaled her breath sharply; aware or how different everything felt. Of how different she felt.
Then the memories hit her.
The old woman was right. Her life had been happy but mediocre. She had three children with Raoul named Anton, Leon, and Claudine. They all lived in their house on the hill for many years.
Anton left to study at the university in Germany and became a doctor while Leon married a fisherman's daughter from the town. They decided to run off at Raoul's protest to his choice of marrying such a common woman although his mother, herself, had been common. Finally the son was reunited with his family when Raoul came to his senses. Claudine always had her head in the clouds. She was constantly daydreaming about fantasy worlds. Eventually she married a young man who had a fair amount of money to his name.
Christine never sang again. She could never bring herself to sing like she once could. It always reminded her too painfully of him. Raoul never questioned her decision or even discussed the events at the Opera House. That was somewhat of a taboo subject in their household.
But the feelings remained with her forever. Something was missing in her life and she knew it. Who could she go to? Who could she talk to? No one of course. The feeling remained bottled up within her. Sometimes at night when all was quiet she would find tears sliding down her cheek. The dreams were something else she could never escape. She was in darkness always and it the distance a dark figure stood. She could not see his face but she knew who it was. He sang sweetly and called to her. Her feet moved towards him but never reaching him. Even when she began to run his shape drifted farther and farther away. She cried out his name as he disappeared. Her body fell to the ground in tears and cold wet stone met her heaving form.
Sometimes the dreams were far more personal and intense. His lips kissing her all over and whispering her name in between haunting breaths. She would wake flustered and breathless; sweat dripping down her back.
One night she woke in turmoil; calling his name out. Raoul became pale with a look of consternation upon his face. He didn't speak or eat for days after that.
He always knew deep within his heart that she never fully belonged to him as he wanted. For the deepest recesses of her heart belonged to another. It despaired him so!
He often would ask her, "Christine, do you love me truly?" As if to reassure himself.
"Yes dear." She would always say to him.
But he knew she wasn't being completely sincere. If she wasn't with him for complete love then why was she with him? Security? Safety? He did not know and did not dare to ask her for fear of losing her once again.
Her life had ended in regret. She lived her whole life running from what scared her most: her own heart and her own desires. In her head a thousand scenarios played over and over throughout the years. Possible outcomes of different choices made.
Christine now stood alone in the square watching the city bustle around her. The day was beautiful and bright. She felt at peace.
A voice spoke in her head, There he is over there. Go to him.
She saw a figure sitting with his back to her hunched over and working with a pencil on a board. Her heart caught in her throat as she slowly moved over towards the figure.
Oh God, it's him! I know it is!
She thought. How will I face him?Yet her feet kept moving in his direction.
The figure was so intent with his work that he hardly noticed the shadow which darkened his presence. But he finally noticed the two feet in front of him and looked up at her.
"Bonjour." She said to him.
Her face radiated with warmth and beauty. He was so taken aback that he glanced quickly behind him to see if she was talking to another before turning back to her.
My God,
Christine though. He is so beautiful!She stared at his face intently; unable to take her eyes from the gorgeous sight. It was as if an angel were sitting there in her presence. His hair was dark and cut short with slight curls playing at the top of his head. His face bore a scraggly look and his lips, plump and pale red, were inviting. Then his eyes. Oh his eyes! She thought breathlessly. Deep blue and green gazed out at her from behind a slender nose. She could have been lost in their radiance forever.
This is what he looks like under that terrible deformity?
She thought. She could hardly believe it."Are you talking to me?" He asked, jolting her from her trance.
"Yes!" She replied nervously. "It was so beautiful out that I decided to take a walk and I saw you sitting here… alone."
He smiled at her showing off sparkling white and dimples.
"Oh… yes! I like being alone when I work it's very calming."
He barely finished his sentence when she looked dismayed and said, "Oh… I'll leave you to your work then."
She looked down and started to turn away when he jumped up suddenly.
"No!" He paused startled at himself because he hadn't meant to say that so forcefully, "I don't mind really. This picture is almost done and… I don't mind your company."
Could this really be happening?
He thought. Is this stunning angel really talking to me?A bright smile lit up her face and she turned back towards him.
"What are you drawing? May I see it?" She asked.
"Of course." He handed her the board with affixed parchment.
She gasped when she saw the picture. He had been drawing the fountain in the square. So perfect was it in every detail she could hardly believe what she saw. The water was clear and bubbling. He even sketched in people around it. They almost seemed alive and breathing! It was truly breathtaking.
"Oh my," She began. "I've never seen anything like it." Which wasn't completely true. She had seen his work before. His sketches and paintings hidden away for no one in the world to behold but her. In his painting she saw life and beauty. It was an expression of his soul and the longing he had for life in the outside world.
He looked away, humbled from her praise.
"It's not quite done yet."
He paused as if thinking and then stammered, "When it is, you can have it!"
He realized what he said must have sounded and stupid and he reprimanded himself immediately.
She looked intently into his face and feelings of old came back to her. She almost choked on emotion.
"I would lo… I would like that." She replied
"I'm Christine by the way."
Her eyes sparkled in the sunshine and he stared at her beauty. I will paint her one day. He thought to himself.
"Christine.." The words rolled beautifully off his lips. The way he said her voice sent shivers down her spine. It always had.
"Call me Erik."
He took her hand in his and they stood there locked in each other's eyes. Both neither wanting to part their gaze.
When he had spoken his name it was as if all the doors between two worlds had began to crumble. So it really was him! She saw him standing there and yet she saw the Erik of old. He wore a soft, loose-fitting, long-sleeved shirt with earth colored pants. Then she saw him as he was, dressed regally in black satin and silk from head to toe. A fine black cape hung around his back, accenting his slender form. He peered out from behind that mask of sheer white; his eyes boring into her soul.
She gasped and pulled her hand away from his and she saw him normally once again.
He frowned slightly at her sudden retreat but she spoke, "Your work should be in galleries along side the likes of Gauguin and Renoir."
"Some of my work is displayed in galleries here in Paris. But I'm not nearly good enough to be compared to them."
"Nonsense!" She retorted. Her warm smile lit up his heart.
"May I ask, what it is you do?" Erik asked.
"I work with a master seamstress here in Paris." Christine began. "We design many elegant wardrobes for the rich and common alike! We make everything from costumes to regular dress. Our shop is located on the Rue de Rivoli."
Erik smiled and replied, "So I am in the presence of a fellow artist then?"
She blushed and laughed at his remark.
"So what is your exact job?" Christine asked him tentatively.
"Oh, I paint, write, compose, and design. Whatever takes my fancy really."
"That sounds like an easy life." Christine smirked at him.
He chuckled at her remark, "I do get by."
"So you write?" Christine asked. "Are you currently writing anything at the moment?"
"Actually yes." He replied. "I'm working on a story based in old Ireland about a servant girl who works for a noble. Well, it's a tragic love story, let me tell you. She has the affections of two men. One who is rich and handsome, but she is not in love with him. The other, is a common man she has known for a while who works at the stables. She loves him terribly like a brother, like a husband, like everything else in the world. They are soul mates but she it torn because if she marries him their life will be uncertain. If she marries the rich man she will have money and security for the rest of her life."
He continued, "It's going to be terrible really. Terribly tragic. I hate stories with happy endings because how often do we have happy endings in real life? It's just not realistic. I want the kind of story that makes you cry. The kind of story that makes you despair. That's how you know that you can still feel inside."
He took a deep breath, "People can be so foolish in the choices they make throughout life. It isn't until the end of their life that they look back with regret and think about the path not taken. How many people are willing to take chances instead of living safely in regret?"
She was so stricken by his words. So stricken as if what he said were strictly for her. As if somehow he knew the inside of her soul. It made her tremble and she suddenly wanted to throw her arms around him but she restrained. His eyes looked at her deeply and knowingly.
"I'm a terrible romantic at heart." He told her grinning and putting his hand over his chest.
Christine could hardly believe him. Was this really happening or were this whole thing a dream? Had the old woman put her under some kind of spell?
"Christine?" He asked her inquisitively looking into her blank eyes.
She snapped out of her daze and returned her attentions. They both looked at each other for a while smiling, neither knowing what to say or caring to break the comfortable silence.
Finally Erik spoke, "The sun is getting low. I'm afraid I've lost the ideal lighting for my artistic endeavors." He grinned at her as he said it teasingly.
"Oh no! I'm sorry I took up so much of your time!" Christine protested.
"No." Erik said. "Don't be sorry at all. I will come back later and finish this. My time hasn't been wasted by you at all. In fact, I've rather enjoyed it."
She felt like such a giddy little girl! Anytime he smiled at her or said certain words she felt all bubbly and silly inside. She couldn't believe this feeling. This amazing feeling! Was it love? Surely she had loved him for a long time. She never wanted to admit it to herself. She longed for him with despair over the years. The feelings never faded as she had thought they would, but became even stronger and more intense! Now she was able to see a side of him that she knew existed but he hardly showed. Too many cruel years had turned his demeanor hard and stoic. He didn't like to show what was under his fragile skin for fear of being hurt. But she had seen him cry, she had seen him beg, she had heard him whisper words of love into her ears. She knew this gentle caring part of him existed and under the right conditions was flourishing.
They walked slowly down the street watching Paris light up shop by shop, lamp by lamp. The two of them hardly saw the outside world. Their auras were so enveloped in each other that they walked in a daze. They could have been walking on clouds rather then the streets of Paris and not even realize it.
Eventually they ended up by the Canal St-Martin and they stood by the water as it flowed on by. The moonlight played off the water as soft sounds of bubbling filled their senses.
Feeling hungry they dined at a fine Parisian restaurant near the water. They shared a bottle of cabernet sauvignon along with stories of their lives. They laughed and smiled and were so enthralled at each moment they spent together that they hardly wanted it to end.
At last it was getting late and grudgingly they both decided to retire for the night. Erik walked Christine to her flat and stared into her eyes by the moonlight.
"Please say that you'll see me again." He said softly to her as he took her had gently in his.
Her heart fluttered madly in her chest and she replied, "Of course. Tomorrow I will find you by the fountain in La Place de la Concorde. I look forward to seeing the finished picture."
He smiled happily at her and brought his perfect lips down on her silky smooth hand.
"Bonne nuit ma belle."
And he walked into the darkness leaving her weak and trembling upon her steps.
Well, if you think the rest of the story is going to be smooth and easy like this chapter, just wait! I have some plot twists and surprises in store. Things are going to get exciting! Please look forward to the next chapter.
Oh, and Gerry Butler as Erik anyone? Hehe.
