Thank you so much for your patience! Here is chapter 8!
Disclaimer: If you know it I don't own it.
The days had passed since her time in the underground. Her head had healed completely and now she was back to finish the renovations of the Opera House. All the while under the watchful eye of Erik.
The area in which she had fallen through had been fixed. The floorboards had been reinforced before the floor itself had been completely replaced. Samantha did not want to experience that again.
The long day had ended again and Samantha had found herself alone in the theatre. She had found an old phonograph and some music. Winding it up it began to spin and soon the needle was set in place. The sound of a beautiful waltz echoed through the theatre and Samantha began to sway to the tune. It was a waltz. The pace was exactly that, 1..2..3...1...2...3 and so on. Her feet moved in time with the slow music. She had not danced in so long...
She spun around quickly only to come face to face with a suit clad chest. She saw the porcelain masked face of Erik and smiled. His eyes stared at her softly as his hand found hers. The other placed at the small of her back pulling her closer. Together they followed the beat of the music.
1...2...3...1...2...3
He spun them causing the smile to form on her face. "You are doing well..." He said as they continued to dance around the stage. Erik watched as Samantha continued to smile. It warmed his heart to see it. After the frown had graced her beautiful face for so long, the smile...that beautiful smile. It was as if he felt the light and warmth of heaven. The tune finally ended and Erik, while holding her hand, bowed to her. Samantha did a small curtsey before she gave a small applause.
"Well done, Monsieur." He bowed again as she finished clapping. "If only I could dance so well."
"Ah but you did, Mademoiselle." It was his turn to smile. "For you did not step on my toes once." He chuckled as Samantha gave him a playful glare. But she was so stunned for she had never heard him laugh. It brought another smile to her face as she listened. It was a hearty happy laugh that seemed to resonate from within his chest.
"You have a wonderful laugh. You should laugh more often."
"If only I were to have things to laugh about-"
"Than I shall bring you things to laugh about. I have wonderful movies to show you."
"Movies? Oh yes, the um...moving pictures. Which ones?"
Samantha smiled triumphantly "You will have to see. Meet me in my room at 7 pm tonight." She said as she ran off.
"Wait where are you going?" He asked as he watched her run up the Isles.
"I have some shopping to do." She called out leaving poor Erik dumbfounded. And so by 7 pm that night, he arrived and saw her in, what she called, her comfortable cloths. He was dressed simply in a shirt his trousers and a robe. For she had requested he be comfortable. Samantha had set up a bed of pillows by her laptop and a bowl of popcorn.
"Just in time." She said as she gazed through the flipbook of DVD's she had. The first film she showed him was a movie called "Arsenic and Old Lace" from 1944 starring Cary Grant. A film about two old women who kill lonely men. Their grandson, a marriage hating critic who has to deal with his aunts killing, on top of getting married and his serial killer brother returning home. Along with his strange doctor friend. Cary Grant's performance got a few chuckles out of Erik. He rather liked the plot line of the movie and how well it was portrayed.
"This is one of my favorite movies. I actually worked on the play in high school." Samantha said with a smile as she laid against Erik's shoulder. He blushed slightly under his mask as she became snuggled up against him. He smiled as he laid his head on top of hers. The next film was the 1967 Mel Brooks film "The Producers" starring Zero Mostel and Gene Wilder. Samantha explained to him that this film was a classic that spawned into a play followed by a remake. By the end of The Producers, Samantha had fallen asleep against him. Hesitantly he leaned over and closed the laptop, not really knowing how to turn it off. Then he picked her up only to tuck her into bed.
With a sigh, he leaned down and kissed her temple. "Avoir de bons rĂªves, mon cher ami" (Have good dreams, my dear friend). He whispered as he watched her curl up in the blankets. He smiled as he left through the mirror for the night. He prayed he too would have good dreams.
