Chapter Summary: Even as they are forced to part, Anders and Orla plot a way to stay together. And Christine returns to Paris with her son, desperate to make him understand her actions.

CHAPTER TEN

Waves flowed in and ebbed out, reclaiming old gifts, leaving new presents to indicate life existed even where it could not be seen. She stood at the edge, moving with the undulation of the water, listening to the siren call of its depths. She always heard the music in the water, angry during a storm and peaceful as it lapped at land's edge while twilight descended upon the world. But now the sound heard was different, sadder. It spoke to her heart, to the hole growing there. It said, "I can fill the hole. Come to me. Come to me." It was a voice she could not resist and she began to walk toward the siren, heeding its call.

"Have we not done this before?" another voice asked as a hand grabbed at her arm.

Orla whirled around and flung herself into Anders' arms. He was her anchor to the shores of life and she clung to him, her face in his shoulder, her tears wetting his jacket. "You came. You came," she kept repeating, her words soft and muffled.

It took but a moment for Anders' arms to wrap around the girl sobbing on his shoulder. He drew her close, trying to warm her body, trying to warm her heart. Trying to warm his heart. "Why would I not come?"

"Our mothers."

"Come sit with me and we shall talk," he said, wrapping his arm about her waist and walking her to the driftwood log. He guided her down, sitting next to her, brushing away her tears.

"Your hand is cold," Orla told him as she turned into it, kissing it lightly.

"Your cheeks are wet."

As silence descended, the siren continued to call from the dark depths of the Channel - Come to me. Come to me. "What did your mother say?" Anders wondered, ignoring the sound of the waves rippling through his mind.

Orla sniffled back her tears, rubbing the end of her nose along the edge of her sleeve. "That my father fell in love with his student and he was jealous of her new lover."

Anders nodded. "My parents. My mother said much the same thing. She also said there was a fire in the opera house and that she and my father barely got out with their lives. It was not until later that she realized your father had also survived the fire."

"It is not enough!" Anger colored Orla's words. "It is not enough of a reason to keep us apart!"

"No, it is not." Anders agreed. "I think there is more than our mothers are willing to say." He shook his head. "There are whispers in the salons that stop when my brother or sisters or I enter a room. Ladies speak behind fans and men huddle in corners. They think we do not see, we do not hear, we do not know. All my life people have thought me an idle fool…"

"You are not a fool!" Orla insisted, sitting up straight, turning to Anders, grabbing his hands. "Just as I am not perfect!" Her anger deflated as the reality of her mother's demands came crashing in with the tide. "What are we going to do? I do not wish to say goodbye when I have just found you."

Desperate to prove he was not the idle fool he thought everyone saw in him, eager to show Orla – to show himself – he was the man she thought him to be, Anders had already given much thought to her words. "I did not sleep well last night for thinking of your very question." He raised Orla's hand to his lips, hoping to soften the blow of his next words. "I think that we must accede to our mothers' request." He took back a hand, placing a finger against Orla's lips, stilling her protest. "If we are to ever overcome their objections, we must let them have this moment. You know this is true." He waited as she reluctantly agreed. "But that does not mean we cannot stay in touch. Do you have someone you can trust to receive letters from me and get them to you without your mother learning?"

Orla thought for but a moment, her eyes beginning to sparkle with delight at the thought. "My friend, Gemma; her father owns the general store and the local packet office. She works for him sorting the mail. I can ask her to set aside any letters you send to me!"

Anders caught her excitement. "She would do that for you?"

"Yes. Gemma has a great love of intrigue and romance." A blush crept up her cheeks. "It is a dream girls share with each other. I can give her my letters to send to you. She will think this a great adventure!" Orla was nearly bouncing where she sat. "We will be able to write each other!" As she thought upon the letters she would be receiving, she began to return to earth. "What about you? How can you send me letters without your mother discovering what you are doing?"

"My father's aide – Chase Toussaint. He is very fond of me and has always held my confidences. He is the only one who knows of my desire to own a theatre. He always sorts through the mail before any of us receive it and he is the one who insures the mail from us reaches its destination. I know he will be willing to help us."

"This is so wonderful," Orla declared. "I will be able to see your words even if I cannot hear them. I will be able to hold your writing even if I cannot hold you."

"And we will find a way to be together," Anders insisted. "I promise you." As he reached in for a kiss, Orla pulled back. "What?" Hurt played across his face.

"My father," Orla began softly. "My father." She shook the hands she still held as her chin began to tremble. "My father!"

"I do not understand…"

Orla broke free, rising to her feet, beginning to pace, the tears starting. "My father! He is strange. He knows things. He has a way of knowing things!" Her words ran together. "He will know I am keeping something from him! He will find out and he will make me stop!" She stopped pacing and turned to Anders. "This is never going to work," she told him, "and I cannot bear it!" She turned quickly on her heel and began to run down the beach.

"Orla, I…" Anders said in a gentle voice hoping to calm his panicked companion. He would never finish the sentence, the words freezing in his throat as Orla began to run from him. He sat riveted in his spot as his brain tried to comprehend what his heart could not. The confusion lasted but a moment before Anders rose to his feet, racing after the woman he loved. "Orla!" he cried out. "Stop! Orla!" His long legs, unhindered by the petticoats his companion wore, had him catching Orla in but a few strides. He turned her around, holding to her as she sobbed hysterically, her fists beating at him. "Orla, stop it!" Anders kept repeating, wondering if she heard him. "It will be all right! Everything will be all right!"

"You do not understand!" Orla shouted between sobs. "My father is a ghost! He can see things that he should not be able to see! He knows things without a word being said! He will know! He will know!" She began to crumble to her knees, the cries overwhelming her.

Anders grabbed tightly to her waist, lifting her back to her feet, drawing her into his arms. He murmured soft sounds in her ear as she clung to him, arms wrapped around his neck, face buried his shoulder. He could do nothing but be strong, letting her cry out her fears even as he felt his own fears echoing in the call of a watery siren – "Come to me. Come to me." He wanted to let her know he shared in her fears but the brief years he had spent trying be what he thought the world - and his father - expected of him would not let Anders admit such a thing.

Until Orla's trembling words gave him the permission.

"I am so afraid." She raised a tear-streaked face to him. "Are you not afraid of what is going to happen to us?"

Freedom broke the chains holding back the desires of a short lifetime. Anders let out a long breath. "More than you will ever know." He took his hands from her waist, moving them up to cup her face. "I have spent my whole life being afraid of everything – mostly of disappointing my father." A sadly strange smile crossed his lips. "It would seem our parents are more alike than they would be willing to admit. Your father wants to cling to you and mine refuses to do so and our mothers are trying to protect them at our expense." The sadness on his face was replaced by the confidence he felt as he held the woman in his arms. "But I am not…" Anders shook his head, anger flashing momentarily in his dark eyes. "I refuse to let them do this to us!" He kissed Orla. "You and I are better than they are! We have not let old arguments cloud our vision. We will not allow old animosities to destroy this beautiful thing we are building! I believe this with all of my heart!" His hands moved down to her shoulders and he lightly shook her. "Tell me you believe it, too! Tell me!"

"I want…" Orla sniffled, her words uneven as she continued to cry. "I want to believe but my father…"

"Not your father," Anders interrupted her, his voice certain. "Not my father. Not our mothers. No one will come between us! I will not allow it!"

"So sure…" came the whispered words.

"With you in my arms, I am," Anders replied. "You are the confidence… the strength… the faith I have been seeking my whole life! As long as I know you will be there at the end of this road, I… we… can overcome anything!"

Orla struggled to gain control over the tears that would not stop and the ragged breathing that was leaving her light-headed. Or was that the man who held her so surely in his arms? She could not tell but willingly surrendered to the warmth she felt flooding her veins, the love that was making her heart beat. "You are…" She lowered her head for a moment and when she raised it, the sun glowed out from golden eyes. "You are my perfection," she whispered, "and if you say we can do this, than I believe it." Her voice grew stronger. "We can do this." Stronger still. "We can do this!" Orla broke free of Anders' grasp, opening wide her arms and turning in a circle where she stood. "Do you hear that world? We are in love and we will be together!" She stopped her twirling and returned to Anders' waiting arms. "We are in love."

"We are," Anders whispered back.

Her hand reached up to cup his cheek. "And we will be together."

"For an eternity."

As the young lovers drew close, their lips meeting, high overhead two gulls dipped and danced against the blue sky, squawking out their approval.

It was such a different sound from the blaring train whistle Anders listened to two days later. He shook his head and closed the slightly opened window of the private compartment he shared with his mother. "Too loud," he muttered as he leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes, picturing a girl with the sun in her eyes.

"Well, at least you have remembered how to speak," a female voice interrupted his pleasant thoughts and Anders opened his eyes to look at his mother. "I had begun to think you had lost your voice. Or perhaps it is just me to whom you do not wish to speak." Anders closed his eyes again and felt the jolt of the train as it began the trip to Paris. He heard his mother sigh. "Anders…"

Anders opened his eyes and sat up straight. "What do you want me to say, Mother?"

Christine shook her head and sighed again. "If you go home in such a mood, your father will surely know something is amiss and I cannot bear to have more distance grow between you both."

"Do not fret yourself over such a trivial thing, madam. I will be the dutiful son. I will wear a smile upon my face and be glad to be home. I will do as my father wishes and return to my studies. I will be the very echo of my eldest brother's life." Anders could not keep the hurt and betrayal from his voice. "And I will keep your secrets."

Turning toward the window and the early spring scenery moving past, Christine took a moment to compose her emotions. She willed away the tears that were starting and buried the pain at her son's hurt – the hurt she knew she had caused - deep in her heart. There had been and would always be a special place in her heart for her youngest child, the child who had helped to ease a grief and emptiness that had threatened to swallow her whole. He had truly been a precious gift and she needed to make him understand why she had stopped a first love before it had even started. She needed to make him understand the past – the fears that had haunted her, the nightmares that still haunted his father. She turned back to her youngest child, reaching out to place a hand on his knee, gently commanding his attention.

"Anders, I need you to listen to what I am going to tell you," Christine began, taking back her hand. "I would like it if you would just sit quietly, understand what I saying and not pass judgment upon either me – or your father.

There was something in his mother's voice, her momentary touch that piqued Anders' curiosity and focused his attention completely on her.

"Thank you." Christine gave her son a brief, wavering smile before beginning. "You know a little of the story of your father's life. You know that he was taken from us and we thought him dead. What you do not know is that was not the first time your father faced his own mortality." She fought down the urge to look away from the sudden interest in Anders' eyes, to look away from her own memories. "It was the night that the opera house burned. That was the night that Miss Herrin's father tried to kill your father."

Anders could not help the exclamation that slipped from his lips. "What? Surely that… that cannot be true!"

"I wish it was not." Christine raised a hand to her lips. "Oh, God – for your sake I wish it was not but it is. The choice I made that night saved your father's life. Later because of the fears born in those years I did not tell your father the truth of the secret I hid and he rode away from us. That is when we all thought him dead and I ran from my lies and my secrets. I ran to the house in Bolougne and it was there that Miss Herrin's father found me. He had come to ask forgiveness for all that had happened between us. We reached our peace but later when your father returned and discovered we had been together he…" Christine found dark memories still haunting her. "He was furious and I honestly could not fault him then and I cannot fault him now. He has been through so very much – most for which I am to blame. I cannot bear to bring him any more pain. I cannot bear for my sins to be the reason for a permanent estrangement between the two of you!"

So many thoughts ran through Anders' mind. He thought of his father and moments where he almost believed he was loved. He thought of his mother and whispers caught when little children should not have been listening. And he thought of a girl who moved away from him even as she continued to live in his heart. Anders shook his head, desperately trying to find his own voice in the cacophony. "Why… Why would my wanting to love Orla be the cause of further estrangement?" A grimace crossed his handsome face. "We are already estranged."

Christine rose to her feet and moved to sit next to her son. She took his chin in her hands and forced him to look at her. "Do not ever let me hear you say that again! You did not know the man your father was when we first fell in love. You do not know the kind, gentle, soft-spoken man who saw the good in this world and tried to make me see it, as well. He is just…" She paused, taking back her hand so that she could hold to both of her son's. "What I am going to say, you must never repeat. You must never let your father know. Do you understand?" She waited until Anders' nodded his head. "Your father loves you! He has had so much loss and pain in his life that when your brother died, he nearly died with him. Your father is… Your father is afraid of losing you. He loves you but is afraid to want to love you because if anything were to happen to you, it would break his heart and would truly be the death of him."

"I still do not understand…"

"Listen to me!" Christine wanted to shake her child. "It is not Miss Herrin. It is her father! There is so much bad blood between them your father would never forgive you for loving his child. Your father deserves to be at peace and happy in his life. This union would never bring that to him. Is it asking so much?"

"From me, yes!" Anders shouted back and turned away at the look that crossed his mother's face, his voice lowering. "From me, yes."

"This is but a first love, Anders," Christine reminded him. "You will find others."

Anders' head turned back. "Did you?" His words cut Christine to the quick and left her speechless. She lowered her eyes. "I am sorry, Maman," he said softly as Christine raised her eyes. Anders let out a long breath. "I am not happy but I do not want to hurt you." He managed a smile. "You are the last person in this world I would ever willingly hurt." He wondered if love turned you into an accomplished liar. "I will go home and I will not say a word about Orla. I will never mention her." He nodded. "I will do as Father desires and go back to school. Perhaps burying myself in my studies will help me to forget Orla… what has happened."

Relief and joy flooded Christine's expressive eyes. "Truly? Such a thing would make him so happy! It would make both of us happy." She studied her son's face. "But what of you?" The derisive laugh that slipped from Anders' lips broke away a piece of her heart.

"I think my decisions have been made for me. Would you not say such, Maman?"

"Anders…"

"You will forgive me if I am bitter and disillusioned for a little while." He squeezed the hands his mother still held, stilling her words. "I will not let Father see my disappointment but you must let me have some time to be angry and hurt." He shrugged. "I suppose it is time I finally grew up, though; time to live up to the family name – to the example set by Olivier. Time to stop being a little boy and be the man you and Father want me to be."

"All we want is for you to be happy," Christine replied.

"Then give me time, Maman," Anders asked, drawing his mother into an embrace. "Just give me time."

"All the time you need, my sweet babe," Christine whispered into his ear. "I love you."

"And I love you," Anders whispered not to the woman in his arms but to the woman in his heart.

Author's Post Script: This has been a year that cannot be over soon enough for me. It has been a year I would dearly love to forget but there is always some light in the dark. For those of you who may remember "Aria" (a former phantom fiction website) – there was a story there called "Madrigal" by Jennifer Linforth. Well, Jen has managed to take a simple fanfic and turn it into a traditionally published book! "Madrigal" has been released by Highland Press and can be found on both Amazon and Barnes & Noble. The story is incredible and faithful to Leroux's original. It has been amazing four year journey to this release and I am very proud of her! Plus the release party was awesome…(-: