Chapter Seven
A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart and can sing it back to you when you have forgotten the words. -Anonymous
In learning you will teach, and in teaching you will learn-Latin proverb
A Friend and a Teacher
Alana could have slept for hours and hours, but something pulled her from her dreams and she woke. She soon realized she was alone in the dim cave chamber. Where's Erik? she immediately wondered, and then she heard singing. A man's voice, deep but beautiful. The sound was haunting, full of sorrow.
Erik.
She got to her feet and set off through the cave tunnels, trying to follow the sound of the voice and find him. It was difficult; she was walking through a labyrinth of faintly lit tunnels and his voice echoed through all of them. She knew she was getting closer though when she was able to distinguish the words of the song he was singing:
Think of me
Think of me waking silent and resigned
Imagine me
Trying too hard to put you from my mind
Recall those days, look back on all those times
Think of the things we'll never do
There will never be a day when I won't think of…
Suddenly the singing stopped, but Alana was close enough now and when she turned a corner, she found Erik. He was lying on the ground, his whole body shaking as he wept uncontrollably.
"Oh my goodness! Erik! Are you all right?" Alana asked as she hurried to his side. Stupid question, she thought to herself. He was clearly not all right. She sat down next to him. He was lying on his side and she couldn't see his face, just the mask he wore. There were tears in the eye she could see, and they were both underneath the mask and running down it. Alana thought it would be best for him if she took it off while he cried, but she didn't dare remove it now. However, he hadn't acknowledged her presence at all; he just kept sobbing, holding the ring around his neck tightly with both hands.
"There, there," Alana said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. She felt him flinch, then actually relax a little at her touch. "It's all right. Don't worry. I'm here." She rubbed his shoulder gently. He still wept, and her heart broke for him. The elegant, aloof, talented, impressive, strong-tempered man she had met was gone, and in his place was a small, fragile child. "It's all right," she whispered. "I'm here. I'm your friend. You're going to be all right."
Slowly, the sobbing grew slower and his body relaxed. His iron grip on the diamond ring loosened, and Alana took his hand. To her surprise, his hand enveloped hers and he gave it a little squeeze. Alana found herself smiling, and continued rubbing his shoulder with her other hand and whispering words of comfort to him. Finally, she felt him start to stir, and she moved back a bit to give him some space, but she couldn't go far. He still held her hand, more tightly than before. Erik sat up, smoothing his dark hair with one hand, then rubbing his right eye and wiping away whatever tears were left on his face and neck. His eyes were swollen from crying, and his face was red and splotched, but in spite of all this Alana noticed that he was still handsome. Extremely handsome. The hand he was holding grew hot, and she felt that electric feeling she'd felt that first night she'd spent at his house, when she was sick. She felt almost feverish again now.
Erik sighed, seeming to gather what inner strength he had, and he opened his blue-green eyes. "Thank you," he whispered, gazing intently at her. Alana felt all warm inside, but cold as well, as if she were happy and yet, afraid of something.
"You're welcome, Monsieur," she said, smiling. "It was nothing, really."
"Call me Erik," he said, the ghost of something like a smile passing briefly over his lips. "And it was most definitely not nothing." He took her hand in both of his and this time, Erik smiled.
Erik looked back through time and saw his younger self, and his mother. At the moment her bottles of alcohol were set aside, and she sat in front of the one small mirror she had, arranging her hair and putting on dark, heavy makeup, wearing a rather flamboyant, low-cut red dress that looked to be a few sizes too small. She noticed him watching her and scowled.
"What are you looking at?"
Little Erik shook his head. "Nothing."
"Well, I have to go meet a very important client soon, so why don't you run along and play with your friends while I'm gone?"
Erik just looked confused.
"Oh, that's right," his mother laughed. "You don't have any friends!"
He shrank back into a dark corner of the room, where he knelt on the floor and hugged his knees.
"Never had any, and never will! No one in their right mind would ever want to be a friend to a freak like you!" She threw her head back and laughed again, as little Erik bowed his head and rocked slowly back and forth, trying not to listen to her.
The older Erik looked at his mother and this time, he laughed at her. She'd always thought she was right about everything, and as a child he had always believed she was, too. For the most part, he still did. But this time, this one, sweet, precious time, she was wrong. Dead wrong. Because just a few moments ago, someone had said words his mother had told him he would never hear.
"I'm your friend."
Erik let Alana lead him back through the tunnels to where they had stopped earlier. His head was spinning. He couldn't believe what he'd heard, and yet the expression on Alana's face, the meaning in her words, and the feeling of her hand in his couldn't be doubted. She was his friend. And he was hers.
He was in awe of the emotions washing over him. His heart felt so much lighter, the dark music in his head faded into new songs of celebration, with words he couldn't quite understand yet, but he had hope he could understand them in time. Hope. That was something new as well. Hope had somehow awakened inside of him for the first time in his life. Alana had found him at one of his weakest points, and somehow she had known exactly what she needed to do, and more importantly, what to say to him. Her words had burned, with a heavenly warmth, into his broken heart and made their way down, down, into a deep part of his soul that he'd longed to forget. A place where a small, lonely child, crying alone in the darkness, suddenly looked up from his sorrow and rose to his feet. There was a light in the window, and as the little boy moved towards it, his tears vanished and a smile spread across his face.
"Erik?"
He suddenly came back to the present. They'd returned to the cave chamber where they had left their things, and Alana was looking up at him, concerned. "Are you all right?"
He nodded, feeling new strength surge through him. For the first time in his life he felt…not alone. "I've never been better," he said, meaning every word.
"Good." Alana smiled. She had such a charming little smile, but like him, she rarely used it. Like him, she had led a troubled life of sadness and fear. And maybe, he could help her like she had helped him. Maybe. Though his new friendship…he loved that word…had suddenly made his world a better place, he knew he was still plagued by self-doubt. Would Alana still call him a friend if she knew what he really was? He didn't want to think about it, and tried his best to banish the darker thoughts with the new music in his head, but the doubts still crept through the depths of his mind, trying to poison his happiness. For now, however, he refused to let that happen.
"Where did Raven go?" Alana asked, gesturing at the empty cave chamber.
"She probably left to graze," Erik said, unconcerned. "Or to get water. She won't be far off."
Alana nodded, and her foot touched the wooden case they had brought. She knelt, and ran her hands over it. "What's in here?"
"This," Erik replied, kneeling beside her, "is one of my most prized possessions."
Alana pulled her hands back immediately.
"No, it's all right," Erik said. "I'll show you." He opened the case, revealing a small violin, immaculately polished. He took it out and cradled it in his hands, running his hands over the smooth, shining wood with an expression on his face like that of a parent holding a beloved child.
Alana looked closer at the instrument. "It's beautiful," she said. Then her gaze fell upon some small writing on the violin. She squinted in the dim light to get a better look, then gasped. "Oh my goodness! It's a Stradivarius!"
Erik smiled again. "Yes, it is."
"Wow," she said. "I've never seen one before. It must have cost a fortune!"
Erik nodded. "Yes, a small fortune. But worth that and more. This violin has gotten me through so much, and it plays better than any other instrument I have ever had."
"Can you play something now, then?" Alana asked. She had never heard a Stradivarius, or heard Erik play before.
Erik nodded and took the bow from the case. "What would you like to hear?"
Alana shrugged. "Anything."
He thought for a moment. In most cases, he would have selected a melancholy piece of classical music, or one of his own gloomy compositions, but now, for once, he felt like playing something lighthearted, uplifting. It was hard to come up with such a piece, since most of his repertoire was depressing, but eventually, a song he had overheard being played inside a church during his childhood came to his mind, and he brought the bow to the strings, and began to play.
As he played, he kept his eyes closed, letting the music take him away to another place as it always did. There was nothing he loved more than to lose himself in a song. When he finished, he opened his eyes to find Alana beaming at him and clapping her hands. Was that the glimmer of a tear in her eye?
"That was beautiful, Erik! I've always loved that song. It's my favorite by Bach."
Erik nodded. "Thank you. I'm glad you liked it. Yes, 'Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring' is a wonderful piece of music. I regret not playing it more often. I don't believe I have played that song in many, many years."
"Really? And yet you still played it so well, better than anyone I've ever heard! You should be out there, in the Paris music halls, in the theaters of other cities and countries! You're good, Erik. So good."
"Thank you," Erik said a bit stiffly. Once she started talking about him giving performances, he had paled a little and felt like he was going to be sick.
"Are you all right?" she asked.
"Yes," he said firmly, recovering immediately and putting the violin away. "Now we had better go back to the cart. The sun is bound to have set by this time."
When they came out of the cave, the sun was almost out of sight, but a haze of pink and orange and a bit of blue still hung in the sky. Alana caught her breath. "It's pretty, isn't it?"
Erik knew she was trying to get a reaction out of him. "Yes it is," he agreed, but he said nothing more.
Raven was grazing on the other side of the creek, like he had predicted, so he called her over and they rode her back to where they had left the cart. The forest road was remote and usually empty of travelers, so the supplies they'd left behind were untouched. In no time at all, they were on their way to Paris again.
"So," Erik said, noticeably startling Alana with his first attempt to make conversation. "You have heard me sing, you have read some of my music, and you have heard me play."
"Yes, I have," Alana said. He could tell she was getting nervous, afraid where he was going with this conversation.
"Do you sing?" he asked, genuinely interested.
"Oh, no," she said dismissively. "I mean, I sing sometimes when I'm alone, but never around other people. I'm not very good."
"How do you know?"
"I don't know." She blushed. "I just know I can't sing."
"Everyone can sing," Erik insisted, finding it hard to conceal his amusement.
"You wouldn't say that if you heard me." Alana played with the locket around her neck, visibly anxious.
"I haven't heard you. Sing a song that's important to you."
"I can't!"
"Sing." Erik spoke softly, the word sounding like a request and a command at the same time. She would sing for him.
Alana sighed. "All right. My mother, before she died, used to plant a garden every year, and we would tend the herbs and flowers together in springtime. And there was a song she taught me. She said it was a very old song from her homeland."
"Sing it for me."
Somehow, Alana found herself unable to refuse him. She took a deep breath, and dared to sing the first verse.
Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
Remember me to one who lives there
He once was a true love of mine…
She stopped.
"Is that all?" Erik asked.
She shook her head. "No, there's several more verses of it."
"Then sing them."
She rolled her eyes.
"Please."
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Reluctantly, she began to sing again, but as she continued to sing the other verses, memories of her and her mother in the garden, singing the song together came to her mind, and she sang with emotion. She sang with the happiness she remembered, and the sadness she felt as she reflected on how she could no longer be with her mother like that. As she sang, she forgot about Erik completely, but when she was finished, she came back to reality and couldn't help but make a face. Her singing was pathetic compared to Erik's.
He was looking at her-his expression had grown a little brighter. He nodded slightly to her. "How do you think you sang?"
Alana covered her face with her hands, embarrassed. "Not nearly as well as you."
"You are a better singer than you think you are. With a bit of training, you could become very good indeed. And the song…" His face continued to light up. "…was beautiful. Simple, yet complex. Wonderful, timeless melody. Tell me," he said, intrigued. "Do you know why the names of the herbs are repeated?"
Alana thought for a moment. "Well, no one knows for sure…the song is very old…but my mother said that in her homeland the four herbs were symbols, and together they were said to have magical abilities."
"What do they mean?" He asked, very curious.
She recalled her mother's words. "She said that parsley will take away any bitterness. Sage brings strength. Rosemary represents many things-faithfulness, love, and remembrance. It also stands for prudence and sensibility. It's a symbol of love-like love grows slowly, so it grows slowly, but once it is fully grown it is very strong. And finally there's thyme. Thyme symbolizes courage."
Erik nodded slowly, looking deep in thought. "Very interesting. Do you believe all that? That they are magical?"
"That's what my mother always said. She told me that they are not magical in themselves, but the virtues they symbolize are. They can bring two people together in love- a love that lasts forever." Alana sighed. "It certainly did for her. She loved my father so much…but you know what happened to my family in the end. So, I don't really know if I believe in any of that anymore."
Erik was silent, and a faraway look came into his eyes. Though he typically tried to keep his true feelings to himself, Alana could see the emotions, thoughts, and memories rising up inside of him. If eyes truly were a window to the soul, then Erik's was a deep, mysterious place.
"Do you really think I can sing?" Alana broke the silence.
"Yes. There is a nice tone to your voice, but you have a bit of trouble with your pitch, and staying in the appropriate key. And your vibrato…you must do something about that."
"Oh." Her face grew hot with embarrassment.
"But with training, you could be a wonderful singer."
Alana grinned. "Really? I could really be a good singer?"
"Better than good."
"Then I suppose I need a teacher. I would love to get better…could you teach me?"
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Erik's world froze over. It was true, Alana's voice was good, but she definitely needed a teacher. He knew he had the ability to make her into a phenomenal singer, but he couldn't. He could not teach again. He could not have a relationship like that with someone again. Not after everything had gone so terribly wrong before.
And yet, he wanted to help her. She said they were friends, something that no one had ever said to him before, and he had missed having someone with him, to sing with, and to have someone to share with him in the music he heard in his head. Deep down, he felt that just maybe, Alana could understand that music, but he wondered if he would help her or harm her. Everything he had ever done had ultimately ended in failure. It was foolish to even imagine that this time would be different. But Alana had music inside of her. He could feel it. It called to him, was something he longed to hear. He could not ignore it.
"Hello? Erik?" Alana's voice broke through his reverie. "You looked like you were off in your own world again. Are you all right?"
"Yes," he said. "I will teach you."
