Thank you all for your reviews. Let's see how Erik's lesson goes now that he has an audience!
21.
Jenna watched Erik pace back and forth in the little passage behind the chapel. There were still a few minutes left before his scheduled lesson with Christine, but he was a bundle of nerves. In the time it took them to get from Carlotta's dressing room to the chapel, he had transformed from the smooth, confident opera ghost to a barely contained animal—almost like a zoo tiger traipsing back and forth in its cage, anticipating the keeper's arrival.
"Erik, you should try to calm down." Jenna said softly, trying to soothe him from her place in the shadows. "She will be here soon."
"And you said you could be silent," he snapped at her, glaring as he rounded in her direction. "Remember, I said no distractions."
"Oh yes," Jenna spat back at him, quite perturbed at being relegated to nothing more than a distraction. "I heard you loud and clear!"
Erik turned from her and resumed his circuit on the stone floor. He was being absolutely ridiculous, and Jenna could not stand to watch it.
"Erik," she began again, hoping to make him see reason. "Why are you so nervous? You are the teacher."
"Apparently, not a very effective one." he snarled at her, "I have not been able to teach you to be silent!"
"You are being hateful!" she shot back. "And my point was that Christine is the one who should be nervous! She's the student here. You're the one she has to impress."
"Impress me?" Erik looked at her incredulously. "She impresses me just by existing. I am not worthy to breathe the same air as her." His eyes took on a faraway look, as his voice hushed. "She is truly the angel, Jenna. I am merely an imposter."
Jenna regarded him silently. It was clear Erik had strong feelings for this Christine. They were written all over his face when he spoke of her-such a look of reverence and awe overtaking his features. It was as if a fire suddenly glowed behind his eyes at the mere mention of her name.
She was surprised to note a sense of sadness come over her at the realization. Why should she care? She rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of the notion. Just because they had shared some laughs and had some tea together, didn't mean she expected him to glow for her the way he glowed for Christine. Just because it thrilled her to watch him carry out his crazy schemes with such confidence and grace didn't mean she would contemplate abandoning her own world to stay here with him. Just because he had sung to her, and held her when she'd cried, and made her believe, even for the briefest of moments, that she was worthy of a prince. . .
"Angel. . .?" Jenna's thoughts scattered when she heard a female voice, clear as a bell, float through the opening in the wall. Erik caught a silent breath at the sound, and turned toward the small fissure. "Angel, are you here?"
"I am here, Christine." Erik's voice was deep and hushed.
"Oh, Angel," Jenna heard Christine respond, relief and excitement evident in her voice. "It is so good to hear your voice."
"Yours as well, child." Erik uttered softly, in golden tones. "Have you practiced your breathing exercises?"
"I have, Angel!" the crystalline voice responded. "They have helped greatly."
"Very good," Erik nodded, even though Christine could not see him. "I am pleased. Now then," he continued, assuming the mantle of teacher, "Take a deep breath for me, Mademoiselle, and begin your scales."
As the bird like warbles of the young soprano issued through the wall, Jenna's eyes were on Erik. His lips were slightly parted, and his eyes half closed as a look of divine ecstasy washed over his face. His head was inclined slightly back, and the breath seemed to still in his chest. He was so entirely transfixed by the sweet strains coming from his pupil, that he never noticed Jenna inch closer, until she too could gaze upon this mysterious creature called Christine.
The first thing Jenna noticed was the hair. Long and curly, it was the deep, rich color of mahogany. It framed a heart shaped face of porcelain skin which betrayed the slightest hint of blush on the high cheeks, and rosebud lips that were rounded in song. Her eyes, large and blue, looked like they could hold the entire ocean in their depths. She was small in stature and delicately built, and her dainty perfection shattered Jenna's spirit like an crystal glass carelessly dropped on a stone-her heart pierced by the shards. Christine was exquisitely beautiful and her voice was flawless to match. Of course Erik was enthralled by her. What man wouldn't be?
When her scales were complete, Erik smiled and said, "Brava, Christine. Now, let's try some arpeggios and glissandos. On C."
Christine began and Jenna watched Erik once more. One thing was certain—he had not needed to worry about her presence being a distraction. She was standing rather close to him now, and still he did not notice she was there, such were all of his energies focused on the petite songbird in the next room. Likewise, the girl was wholly focused on him. She hung on his every word, and did every exercise exactly as he asked, as if her very existence depended on the sweet morsels of praise he allowed her with each successful note. It was like there was an invisible thread tying one to the other, their attentions were so singularly honed on each other. Teacher and student, angel and ingenue-the rest of the world seemed to be irrelevant when compared to their mutual fascination with one another.
Jenna took a few steps away—not that Erik noticed—and sat on the floor with her back against the wall. She had wanted to see Christine. She had wanted to meet this seamstress about whom Erik had spoken so highly. She had wanted to share this lesson with him, to understand this part of his life. So why was she now feeling so shaken?
Because now you know you will never have him! a voice in her mind answered her unspoken question. With Christine in his life, he will never be yours.
Of course, that line of thinking was ridiculous! She was not even from here. The universe had played some kind of strange trick on her, thrusting her out of her own time, sending her back 130 years! She did not know how or why it had happened, but she had to get back. Erik was trying to find a way to send her back. There was no way they could ever have been together.
But you were beginning to want him anyway.
Jenna shut her eyes tightly against the realization that once again, she had begun to fall for the wrong man. She had such an incredible talent for finding ways to make herself miserable! Even now, when her focus should be on trying to figure out this mystery and find a way to get home, her traitorous heart was dallying with yet another ridiculous romantic notion. So what if he was dashing, and talented and smarter than anyone she had ever known? So what if he made her laugh, and made her furious, and made her feel so utterly alive? One look at him with Christine, and she knew he was as unattainable as the stars in the night sky. And to think she had even briefly wished that he could be her prince! It was clear that the only royalty to which he would ever swear allegiance was standing on the other side of the wall.
Jenna covered her face with her hands, and felt a velvety softness tickling her finger. She reached behind her ear and retrieved the rose Erik had taken from Carlotta's dressing room and given to her. It was the tangible reminder of a frivolous moment in time when they had felt so right together—two parts of an unbreakable team. She held the smooth, thornless stem and gazed at the lush red petals, a delicate, sweet aroma wafting up to fill her nose. She reached up and loosed her hair, taking the black ribbon, and tying it around the rose's stem. Its elegance was now entwined with darkness—the black satin a perfect symbol of Erik's own shadowy grace—and the bloom's beauty was greater for it.
"Will you be here tomorrow, Angel?" came the high pitched voice of the girl behind the wall.
"Of course, my dear," was Erik's velvet reply.
Through the pain in her chest at hearing their sweet exchange, Jenna realized that the lesson was winding down, and she removed her cloak, hastily stashing it behind her on the floor.
"Until then, Angel," there was the hint of a giggle in her voice.
"Until then, Christine," and even though she couldn't see him, Erik bowed low in the direction of the wall which shielded him from the object of his affections.
He made to linger there until Christine left the chapel but Jenna coughed loudly and startled him out of his reverie. He glared in her direction to silence her, but Jenna only placed her hand to her mouth and wheezing in a deep gulp of air, as if she were going to cough again.
"Angel?" Christine called again, sounding a bit confused.
Erik made no reply. Instead, he silently moved over to where Jenna sat and dragged her up off the floor, meaning to charge off toward the boat. After they took a few steps, however, Jenna dislodged her hand and dashed back to where she had been sitting to retrieve her cloak, earning an annoyed huff from Erik. As she bent down to grab the fabric, she leaned her palm on the wall for balance, tapping it lightly with her fingers as she did. Once her cloak was in hand, she hurried back to join Erik, who was growing more and more impatient by the second.
When the dark haired soprano heard the light rapping on the wall, she turned back from the door she had just opened. She felt a trembling in her chest as she walked back into the room, and had to take a breath to quiet herself. There, on the floor beneath the far wall of the chapel, lay a flawless red rose. She knelt down before it, extending a shaking hand to retrieve the delicate bloom, bringing it close to her face to sniff its fragrant perfume. "Angel. . ." she whispered as she gathered the blossom to her chest, knowing that she would always treasure this gift.
XXXXXXXXXX
"I thought you could be silent!" he hissed at her as they sailed the final distance to the underground home, Erik so incensed by her little distraction after the lesson, that he stood as he used the long paddle to steer them toward the shore.
"I was silent!" Jenna insisted, irritated by Erik's show of temper. He had no idea how hard it had been sitting there watching him make goo goo eyes at his beloved Christine. It was all she could do not to wretch at the memory.
"Silent? Really, Mademoiselle? Because to me it you sounded like a cat trying to vomit." he seethed.
"There was something in my throat!" she insisted, indignantly. So what if it was not true? She had just needed him to get moving for her idea to work. "Perhaps it was some dust. If we had not been hiding behind a wall it might not have happened."
"If you had any decorum it might not have happened either. Have you never learned to clear your airways properly like a lady?" he shot her an incredulous look.
"No! I guess I never before had the benefit of etiquette lessons from a man who climbs into women's dressing rooms through their mirrors!" she snapped back. She had been so tempted to tell him what she had done on his behalf—how she had left the rose to make Christine aware of his fondness for her—but now she could barely stand to be in his presence. She longed to reach shore for no other reason than to be able to storm away from him and slam her bedroom door in his loud, obnoxious, complaining face. Ungrateful, insufferable. . .jerk that he was!
"At least I can conduct myself with stealth." Erik shot back with great affectation, still fuming over her uncouth, inelegant, and graceless behavior behind the chapel. She could have ruined everything with Christine!
Jenna merely huffed in response and looked away from him, crossing her arms over her chest. She'd been rather stealthy herself, she thought spitefully, considering that he had no idea she had left her rose for Christine. Her rose. For Christine. Despite her annoyance with Erik, Jenna could not help but feel her heart ache a bit at the memory of slipping the precious bloom through the opening in the wall, so that the true object of Erik's affections could enjoy its beauty.
They traveled the rest of the way in silence, Erik too annoyed and Jenna too somber to speak. As they began to dock, however, a terrible bellowing assaulted their ears. Despite the tension between them, their eyes quickly met and Erik was out of the boat first, ushering Jenna behind him, placing his body between her and the unnamed threat.
"Let me out of this thing, will you!" came the desperate roar once again.
Jenna gasped in surprise. Erik had warned her that there were many dangers in his lair—many traps to capture those who dared to enter with ill intent. Had someone been trying to attack him tonight? Had someone meant to threaten his home?
"Erik!" the voice shouted, "Erik, this isn't funny. Let! Me! Go!"
Jenna noticed Erik's stance relax a tiny bit, and when he glanced back at her, she saw his lips curl into a wicked grin. He sauntered arrogantly into the sitting room, Jenna following closely behind. When she saw the source of the mournful cries, she put her hands to her mouth to hold in her giggles.
Nadir, stood on the tips of his toes, his arm upraised above the bookshelf, seeming to be reaching for something inside a. . .book? Judging by the way he was struggling with his whole body to retrieve his arm, he was, apparently, stuck.
"Good evening, Daroga," Erik drawled. "Care for a drink?"
"Get me out of this. . .contraption, Erik!" The Persian sputtered.
"Did you get my note?" Erik asked, eyebrow raised, head cocked to one side as he leaned his long body against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.
"Yes, Erik," He hissed, between clenched teeth. "I got all your notes. The one you placed in the liquor cabinet that said, Not here. The one you placed in the kitchen that said Try again. The one you placed inside the piano that said, Think higher. Really, Erik, did you think I was going to look in the piano?"
"You did." He responded dryly, stating the obvious.
"And," Nadir continued, completely ignoring Erik's remark, "I got the one on the false book that said Erik's Cognac, right before I opened the cover and my hand got snatched by. . .by. . .shackles!"
Erik snickered and goaded, "You missed the one on the dining table that said "Give up now, you foolish Persian."
"I saw that one," Nadir spat back, "But I ignored it."
"A pity." Erik clucked his tongue in mock sympathy, "I tried to warn you, Daroga."
"You made your point, Fiend!" Nadir growled, "Now release me!"
"Gladly," Erik said with amusement. He reached behind the bookshelf and flipped a hidden switch, and the shackles which had ensnared Nadir's wrist instantly opened, unceremoniously dumping him onto the floor. "That should teach you to steal my alcohol!" Erik smirked, as he watched Nadir pick himself up off the floor.
"Well, it's not as if you ever drink it!" Nadir snapped, dusting off his trousers and straightening his tie. "Why do you even keep it here?"
Erik shrugged nonchalantly. "Entrapment."
Nadir huffed, his voice raising an octave in outrage. "So you admit it! I. . ."
"Oh, do quiet down, Persian!" Erik reproved, with a roll of his eyes. "My fingers are getting itchy!"
Jenna watched the exchange with amusement. Once again, Erik was in his element—his mischievous scheme against poor Nadir having brought out his sense of fun and adventure. This was the Erik she enjoyed, and she felt her irritation with him begin to melt away as she watched him lift his arm and easily reach the bottle of amber liquid on top of the shelf. He walked over to the liquor cabinet and poured a glass, taking mercy on the hapless Persian. "Here you go, Daroga." Erik handed over the goblet of brandy to Nadir, who drank deeply.
When he finished his drink, Nadir made his way back over to the bottle, and poured himself a refill. "Where have you two been?" he demanded, as he threw his head back and drank.
"I just finished my lesson with Christine." Erik answered.
"Well, you weren't there all day!" Nadir remarked, dabbing his mouth with a handkerchief. "Just what did you do to Carlotta? The opera house is all a twitter about the Phantom again."
"Let's just say," Erik responded, that wicked gleam coming back into his eyes, "She had a rather hair raising experience." He glanced over at Jenna and she could not help but giggle. Her heart jumped a little in her chest when she saw the glint in his eye grow brighter.
Nadir looked between the two and rolled his eyes. "I think you are corrupting our guest, Erik."
"No," Jenna answered Nadir while looking at Erik. "I was pretty corrupt before I met him."
Erik met Jenna's eyes, and flashed her a small smile. In that moment, the previous stress between them was gone.
"Well, wherever the source of the corruption lies, Erik," Nadir informed, shaking his head, "You may wish to tone it down."
Erik sighed at the silly Persian. "Whatever for, Daroga?" he asked, removing his cloak and hat and laying them on the settee until he could hang them up in his wardrobe. "Carlotta deserves far more than what I do to her. She is a wicked, hateful woman."
"Never-the-less," Nadir returned. "She is the prima donna. And she has vowed not to continue as such if the Phantom is not stopped."
Erik rolled his eyes, "Oh please, Nadir. That cow will never willingly relinquish her position on the stage." He helped Jenna remove her cloak, and laid it next to his. "Phantom or no Phantom, she cannot resist an opportunity to deafen the masses with her unconscionable caterwauling."
"Regardless, Erik," Nadir swirled the brandy in his glass as he tried to make Erik see reason. "The managers may take her seriously and start. . .poking around down here."
"Bumbling fools!" Erik muttered under his breath. "They would never make it past the traps."
"I hear she even demanded they stop paying your salary."
"They wouldn't dare!" Erik responded, completely unaffected by what he considered Nadir's hysterical warnings. He sat down on the piano bench, and flexed his fingers. "They know if they did that, a disaster beyond their imagination would occur."
"Still Erik," Nadir warned as he took another sip of his drink. "I wouldn't push it too far. You know Carlotta can have temper tantrums. If she refuses to go on, even temporarily, there is no one who can take her place. The opera will lose a lot of money if they had to refund all those tickets, and they might not be able to afford to pay your salary."
A smile crossed Erik's face as he began to play softly. He remembered the angel with whom he'd spent a portion of the afternoon. How beautiful and pure was her voice! How warm and inviting was her smile. There will soon be someone who could take Carlotta's place, he thought to himself. And that someone is Christine.
XXXXXXXXXX
"The power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories, that it has come to be disbelieved in. Few people dare now to say that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other. Yet it is in this way that love begins, and in this way only." 1
He closed the book, he had been reading her, his eyes becoming too tired to continue. The room was dark, save for the small reading lamp situated above her hospital bed. He had spent all of his free moments with Jenna today. He took her for a walk in the courtyard, so that she could get some fresh air. He'd sat with her during his break and talked to her about the mundane things that filled his day. And he'd stayed with her, long after his shift had ended, just reading to her, so that she would not have to lay here alone. Even now, when he knew he should be heading home—that he should have headed home hours ago—he lingered, watching her breathe, admiring the way her strawberry curls fell over her face.
. . .It is in this way that love begins. . .It was crazy, he knew. He'd barely spoken to her before the accident, but as he looked at her now, he absolutely could no longer deny that what he had just read in the book was true. No matter how unlikely it seemed, even to himself, he knew how he felt about Jenna. It had started many months ago, with just one look—a glance shared over a patient, a smile shared after a mutual task completed. He had started falling in love with Jenna from the moment he'd seen her his first day at the hospital. But he had not believed, for, truly, . . .few people dare now to say that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other. So, it had proven his singular talent to let unimportant things get in the way, so that he could shove aside this burgeoning feeling that a look had led him to love—a glance had led him to emotion. He should have spoken to her, asked her to dinner, let her know he was interested. If he had things might have been so very different now.
He took her hand in his, stroking the palm gently, thinking of all the reasons why falling in love just from a look should be impossible. Yet the words he'd just read kept coming back to him. . . .It is in this way that love begins, and in this way only.
XXXXXXXXXX
Jenna sat on the cushioned chair in her room, reading quietly to herself. It had been a long day, both when they had been navigating the opera house, and later when Nadir decided to stay for dinner, after discovering there was once again liquor in the lair. When Erik had returned to the piano, after the Persian had taken his leave, Jenna perused Erik's book shelf and chose a book whose story was familiar to her from back in her own time. Victor Hugo's Les Miserables—the classic tale about love and redemption set with the June Rebellion as a backdrop—would have been published just about two decades prior, she thought to herself, as she eagerly turned each page. She remembered hearing the music from the stage show that, while different from the novel, had been extremely popular while she was growing up. Jenna had always been so moved by the plight of poor Eponine. She had dearly loved the hero Marius but he had only ever thought of her as a good friend, while he gave his heart to the beautiful Cosette after only seeing her once. His love for Cosette did not sway Eponine's own heart, and she even went so far as to lay down her life for her beloved Marius so that he could be safe.
Growing up, Jenna had often wondered what it was about Cosette that was so special. Yes, she was beautiful, but what else had Marius known about her when he decided she was his true love? He had known Eponine so much longer. Why could he not return her affections? Why did he have to fall for the fair Cosette after only one glance, when he had a perfectly good woman wanting to love him all along? How was he so blind that he could only recognize her love for him when it was too late?
A gentle rapping on her door startled Jenna out of her musings. "Jenna?" Erik called softly, as if questioning if he could open the door.
"Come in, Erik." Jenna called out, surprised to hear his voice.
The door opened slowly, and Erik entered, carrying a cup of tea. He swallowed audibly before beginning. "I thought you might like to have some tea to soothe your throat," he said, quietly, holding the cup outward to her, his eyes slightly downcast.
"To soothe my throat?" she asked in confusion, standing up and taking the tea from him.
"Yes," he said, shyly, still not exactly meeting her eyes. "After your coughing spell this afternoon, I thought tea might do you some good."
"Oh," she said simply, feeling guilty at the way she'd manipulated his actions earlier, and how angry her coughing had made him. She took a sip of the tea, which was steaming and rich, and all at once she and Erik locked eyes.
"I'm sorry," they both said at once.
"What for?" they asked in unison.
Each looked at the other and laughed lightly at the way their minds both seemed to be set on the same things. Erik quietly led Jenna into the sitting room, where he motioned for her to sit on the settee before joining her. "I apologize for being cross with you about the coughing when I should have been concerned."
"I apologize. . ." Jenna began, not wanting to lie, but also not wanting to admit that she had tricked him.
"No, please," he stopped her by holding up his hand. "Hear me out. I should not have been so cross with you. . ."
"Erik. . ." Jenna interrupted him.
"Mademoiselle, please," He admonished her. "Do not interrupt me when I am trying to apologize to you. It is difficult enough to do as it is."
Jenna opened her mouth to tell him he truly did not have to apologize—that her cough had been a ruse and that she had deceived him. But when she looked in his eyes so full of genuine penitence and sincerity, the words froze on her lips, and instead she took a sip of her tea.
"I should have showed concern for you," he finally continued, when he realized Jenna was no longer going to cut him off. "Instead I only showed ire. For that, I apologize."
"It's alright, Erik." she responded, still feeling horribly delinquent.
"It is not, alright-the way I treated you," he insisted. "But. . .Jenna. . .Christine cannot begin to suspect that I am not actually an angel."
Jenna looked into his eyes, and saw the desperation that lay behind his remorse for being rude to her.
"Erik," she asked him gently. "Why?"
"Why?" he asked her, in disbelief at her simple question. "Because if she knew, she would only run from me."
Jenna's eyes narrowed and she shook her head. "Why on earth would you think that, Erik? She hung on your every word as if she adored you."
"It is the angel she adores." Erik supplied, looking down sadly. "Not the real me."
"Well, that's because she doesn't know you." Jenna tried to make him see reason. "If you would go to her, and not hide behind a wall. . ."
"She would run!" Erik said shortly. "She would flee in terror to find that her angel was really more demon than saint, more monster than man."
"Why. . ." Jenna asked, shaking her head, her heart feeling tight in her chest, "Why do you say that about yourself, Erik?"
Erik chuckled sadly, closing his eyes, "Because I know the truth," he whispered, sardonically. "I know what lies behind the mask."
Jenna only stared at him, sympathetically, as Erik rose from the settee. "You have had a long day, Jenna. Perhaps it is time you finish your tea so you can rest." He walked off, then, in the direction of his own room, leaving Jenna to ponder what exactly could lay behind the mask that could cause Erik to believe himself a monster.
1Victor Hugo, Les Miserables
OH, Jenna! I know you were well intentioned, but, really, do you think leaving the rose was a good idea? What do YOU think, good readers? Jenna got a first hand glimpse at how enthralled Erik is with Christine, but she also got a good taste of his temper. Of course, they cannot stay mad at one another for long-especially when there is a Nadir to torment! And in the end, Erik apologized. Do you think Jenna should have come clean? And oh, how Victor Hugo seemed to resonate with both Jenna and our doctor.
Please review and let me know what you thought!