Sorry all my responses were unusually short. I am stuck with using my Kindle for a bit and I have a hard time typing with only one finger. Please forgive and keep those wonderful reviews comming. I am loving them!
Guest reviews:
TheRebbs98: "A" big reveal is here at least...maybe even two!..Ha ha...Pirate Amir does love his hats and mermaids! Glad you liked it. I hope it will make you SQUEEEEE a lot and be just as excited.
Mystery: Maaaaaaybe...or something else big will happen. They will see each other again...promise. And you do amuse me with your "speed references". Ha ha
Guest: oh, your poor feels! I think they should get to baking!
PhantomChristine: hold that thought...And I figured you would try and spend it, that is WHY I stopped us. Trust me it will be spent soon. Ha ha
Guest: you called what? And read this chapter before you get too sure of yourself. Ha ha. No killing for Erik...Yes so proud. The manager remembered her name from the old list when she did not show up.
Cora: I am glad you are excited. Hope you still are at the end of this chapter. Ha ha.
MlleNikki: there is an advantage to waiting to read, right? ha ha Yes Raoul will make an appearance, and more so than he did in MBTM too. ha ha. Enjoy.
.
.
Chapter 29
Beneath the Mask
"Erik! Are you all right?" Christine gasped as she jumped back at the sound of shattered glass.
Doing his best to compose himself after her unexpected mention of the rose biscuits, which had prompted an instant flood of memories that threatened to overwhelm him, Erik cleared his throat and stooped to pick up the broken shards.
"Y-y-yes, Christine…I am…fine," he lied. For in truth his heart was now beating wildly and his hands were shaking so badly he felt he might accidently cut himself as he attempted to clean up his mess. "The glass was wet and…it slipped…that is all."
"I am terribly sorry," she consoled. "I wish I could offer my assistance, but I fear a blind girl and broken glass is a rather foolish combination." She did her best to keep her comments light, trying to ease the tension that had suddenly descended upon the room. Something had upset Erik - that was more than clear – but Christine had no idea what it could have been. His demeanor was much like the day she had asked about his appearance and he had tipped over the piano bench quite unexpectedly. Clumsiness and Erik were not two things that went hand in hand…so using her powers of deduction, Christine guessed that both times it had been something she had said or done. But what?
"Please, do not concern yourself," Erik instructed, standing up, the larger pieces now cradled carefully in his hand. He took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself, knowing that he needed to regain his composure before Christine began to question his strange reaction to her words. It was silly, that even the mention of rose biscuits could still ignite such a reaction in him, stirring the cherished memories from his past that were so long buried. Yet those few months when Anna had been there caring for him were still the most treasured in his life…now rivaled only by the short amount of time Christine had touched his lonely existence. Still, she would not understand his reaction to her words unless explained and that was the last thing he wished to do. Erik needed to push these feelings down and do his best to cover over his unbecoming behavior. "Do not move, Christine, while I fetch a broom and dustpan. I will be right back."
.
.
In his absence, Christine took the time to analyze Erik and his…well…oddities? Granted he had explained his aversion to going outside by his skin condition, and at first it did seem plausible. And yet…had he not just been out with her in the alley? Or when he had gone above to see to his investments? Not to mention the fact that every time the subject of his medical situation came up in the presence of his Persian friend, the man had become uneasy and choked over his words. Christine might not be able to see…but she was not that blind! What was Erik hiding?
Sipping her drink, she began to wonder why he had been so upset when she had questioned his appearance that day, why he had literally stumbled backwards when she had attempted to reach out and touch his face. His face…Christine suddenly realized that she had never touched his face. She had felt his hands, once she had forced him to remove his irritating gloves, and she had embraced his torso several times, out of grief as well as joy. But in all her time here, she had never allowed her fingers to graze over his face, to attempt to feel how he might look.
Well, perhaps it was time she did!
Yet would asking for permission thwart any attempt in doing so? Would he pull away and forbid her the privilege? The saying, 'it is easier to ask for forgiveness than consent' sprang to her mind. Could she do such a thing? Should she allow her curiosity to overcome her sense of propriety and intrude on his personal privacy? Yet, before she could allow the feelings she had come to have for Erik grow within her heart - feelings that she could no longer deny were there - she had to know the truth. If he insisted on keeping something secret from her, it must be quite terrible indeed, for Erik was not the kind of man who would be upset by small and insignificant things. He had more than once proven himself brave and confident, coming to her rescue on multiple occasions. So why did he seem to shy away from this one particular subject? And what did rose biscuits have to do with anything?
.
.
"Here we go, my dear," Erik announced as he came back in the room, working swiftly to do away with any small bit of glass that might prove to be a hazard. "All taken care of. You are free to move around once more in safety."
"Always my hero," Christine giggled, downing the last of her delicious champagne. She heard him move to the other side of the room to dump the shards in the waste basket and as he did, she bolstered her courage. Riding high on the success of her audition, she found the courage to follow through with her plan to learn the truth. "Erik…may I ask a favor?"
"You may ask me for anything, Christine," he assured her, reaching out to take away her now empty glass and setting it down on a nearby table. "You know that."
"Would you…dance with me?" she finished, looking a bit shy by her proposal, yet inside she was a jangle of nerves.
"Dance?" Erik questioned, sounding as if he had never heard of the activity.
"Yes…dance," she smiled invitingly, holding out her hand towards the sound of his voice. "I do not wish for our celebration to end and I feel so happy that I would like to dance."
"Yet…if I am to be your…partner…who will provide the music?" Erik stammered, feeling the sweat bead up on the back of his neck. She wished to dance with him? Inviting him to hold her in a rather intimate embrace as they glided across the floor? The idea was indeed tempting, yet…terrifying at the same time!
"I could hum, or sing," she suggested, laughing a bit at his feeble excuses, quite aware of the trepidation in his voice. "Or perhaps you have a music box that could provide us a tune?"
It was then that Erik remembered the music box he had taken from the store the night she had been attacked. He had been so distracted by the horrible events of that evening he had completely forgotten to give her the little gift he had purloined. He had hung up that particular cloak when they returned home and had not used it since, allowing the item to be easily forgotten.
"As a matter-of-fact, I just so happen to have one right here," Erik announced, walking to the peg on the wall and reaching into one of the many pockets this particular cloak housed. When he drew out the small mechanical device, something else slipped out as well, floating to the floor as it landed beside his shoe. Glancing down, Erik gave an involuntary gasp, followed by a curse under his breath.
Damn! Christine's letter!
The very one he had pretended to post and had planned to read later before seeing that it was truly mailed off to her parents. He had completely forgotten about it! Weeks had gone by since it was meant to have been sent and he could only imagine how sick with worry her doting parental figures must be. Erik knew he would be, if forced to remain out of touch with his precious Christine for so long a time. He now felt like a complete heel!
"Erik…is something the matter?" Christine asked, obviously having heard his expressions of dismay.
"No…nothing is wrong," he lied, picking up the letter and shoving it into his vest pocket. Well there was nothing that could be done about it now, he thought to himself. He would have to deal with the situation as soon as possible, perhaps even enlisting the aid of that persistent Persian once more. Oh, how that galled him. "I found the music box however," he announced, hoping to shift her attention back to it and off of himself.
"Wonderful," she smiled, clapping her hands in glee. "Wind it up then and let's see how it sounds!"
Erik was still feeling very uneasy, both from her request to dance as well as his discovery of the forgotten letter, but Christine's enthusiasm was infectious and he couldn't help but be drawn to her. He turned the little key a number of times until the springs were wound tightly, before setting it down on a nearby table and joining her where she stood. Erik was still nervous, but he was willing to overcome any such feelings if it meant the pleasure of holding his amazing Christine.
"This tune is perfect for dancing," she assured him, reaching out and feeling her way as she pulled one of his limp arms up and placed it on her waist, while the other one she held in her hand. She could feel him tremble slightly at her touch and she found it ironic, and a bit alarming, that he caused the identical sensation in her. "Now, all we need to do is count off the steps. One, two, three – one, two, three, and so forth."
As she counted, Christine began to move to the music, amazed at how easily he followed her instructions and allowed his natural fluidity to rise to the fore. In no time at all they were turning around the room as if they had been born to dance as a pair. And as Christine leaned in and rested her cheek against his chest, she could almost believe they were.
"You are a wonderful dancer, Erik," she complimented, enjoying the feel of his strong but gentle hand as it slipped its way to the small of her back, now fully taking the lead in their rhythmic movements. Christine released a happy sigh as she let herself be mesmerized by the sensations he was invoking within her. She had never felt so safe, so content, than she did right then. She could imagine staying locked in his embrace for all eternity, never wishing for more than she had right at that moment. And yet…she had to know the truth. Christine needed to understand what it was Erik was keeping from her.
She simply had to.
Erik was floating in a fantasy world, one where he was able to keep this delicate creature with him always. He would adore her, worship her and care for her to the end of his days, there was no doubt in his mind over that. She had changed so many things in his life, giving him hope and more joy than he had ever thought possible. If he could in turn give Christine back even a portion of what she bestowed upon him…well he would consider his life blessed indeed. Closing his eyes, he allowed his mind to wander, thinking of all the things he could bestow upon her. Security, fame and her dream of performing on stage. It was true that she may never be able to act out an opera - her lack of sight being a serious deterrent from that - but she could most definitely perform! She would fill every seat in the house with eager patrons clamoring to hear her sing, to entrance them with aria after aria while she simply stood there and amazed. Yes, he would see Christine shine; he would ensure that she was a star.
Erik was so lost in his dreams of the future that he failed to pay attention to the present… and the fact that Christine's little hand had left his shoulder and crept up towards his masked face. By the time he felt her inquisitive fingers sliding up the side of his jaw and onto the soft white leather, it was far too late.
Erik froze for only a moment before he jerked from her grasp with such fervor one would think her touch had burned him. Christine had apparently not been prepared for such a visceral reaction, for as he ripped his body away, she stumbled backwards, grabbing at anything that might stop her fall. Unfortunately the only thing her fingers and been close to at the time was his mask and as she tumbled to the floor, her backside cushioned only slightly by the small area rug, the ties that held his shield in place gave way and the whole thing came with her. She gave a yelp of fear as she struck the floor, but that was nothing compared to the cry of sheer agony that emitted from Erik's lips.
"WHY?" he cried, covering his face with his hand as he stumbled backwards, bracing himself against the small sofa. "WHY, CHRISTINE? Could you not simply leave well enough alone? Why did you have to go and destroy everything?" As he spoke, his grief and misery turned to rage and he unleashed his barely contained emotions on several pieces of furniture in the room. He felt exposed, hurt and worst of all…Erik felt betrayed! He knew it had been too good to last, that he had dared to fly too high and too close to the glorious heavens. And just like the fabled Icarus, he was now to face his doom as he came plummeting down to the cold, harsh reality of the earth. Christine was too good for him, he had never been worthy to touch such beauty and this fateful moment was the price to be paid for his ambitious dreams. Yet knowing it had been inevitable did very little to quell his grief or soothe his misery. It simply hurt too much.
"Erik…" Christine whispered, flinching at each crash and sound of breaking objects. She sat there on the floor, gripping the leather mask she had unintentionally ripped from his face, praying that he would calm down so that she could apologize. Yet as he raged on, she worried that she might have gone too far, that he might not be willing…or able to forgive this transgression. Oh, why had she been so foolish? What had possessed her to concoct this deception in order to sate her damnable curiosity? How could she have treated Erik in this deplorable manner? She felt the tears begin to stream down her cheeks as she sat there, drawing in on herself as she gripped the mask in her regretful hands.
Erik's wrath continued on until he was exhausted and spent, ending with one last vase being thrown against the wall in a resounding crash. Left panting and numb, Erik bent over and supported himself with his hands on his thighs, gasping for air as he did his best to regain his senses. It took quite a few minutes, but as he salvaged what little composure he still possessed, Erik became aware of the sound of crying from behind him, a soft whimper accompanied by sniffles. After a moment he remembered he was not alone in the room…that Christine was also there, having been fully exposed to his deplorable temper and rage. With a heart now full of remorse, he slowly turned around, his hands once more instinctively going to cover his face, though he realized she was unable to see what he felt compelled to hide. Yet, when he caught sight of the terrified girl huddled on the floor he felt like the lowest form of life to have ever crawled upon the earth.
His mind instantly flashed back to his childhood, to the day Anna had given him the drawing paper and he had allowed his frustrations over his failed designs to get the better of him. He had frightened her back then as well, causing his nanny to fall to the floor and he couldn't help but now envision his dear Anna sitting there before him. Why had he been reminded of her so often since finding Christine? Why did Anna plague his mind so, when for years he had been able to push such pleasant, yet equally painful, memories out of his head? However, when he looked at the quivering girl on the floor, instead of Anna's gentle green eyes staring back, it was the unfocused brilliant blue of Christine's…and they were full of tears.
Instantly, Erik's anger left him and all that remained was regret. Regret for his actions, for his words and most of all for blaming Christine for what was quite obviously his own fault. If he had only been truthful…if he had not lied to her…then maybe, just maybe, everything would not now be destroyed. He took a tentative step closer but as his shoe made contact with a tossed aside book, causing it to skitter across the floor, he saw her jump and shrink back, making him hate himself even more. The woman he loved now feared him, and there was no way he could fault her for that.
"Oh…Christine," he moaned, sinking to the floor as he buried his head in his hands. "Erik is sorry…." he managed to get out between sobs. "So very sorry… please don't hate him for what he has done!" That was all he could manage before he allowed his grief to overcome him, unable to speak further due to the devastation raging inside.
Christine heard his plea and her heart broke even more to think that she had brought him to such a state…all to satisfy her own idiotic curiosity. It made her feel small, petty and so very cruel – and in truth that was more than likely how Erik saw her as well. She had destroyed all they had built in just one moment by her wrong decision.
She had to set things right!
Slowly, Christine made it to her knees and with the help of one searching outstretched hand, she crawled to where she could hear his muffled weeping, eager to offer any kind of comfort for her mistake. When her fingers came in contact with his quaking shoulder, she felt him stiffen up but at least he did not pull away. Scooting closer until she was kneeling directly beside him, Christine placed one arm across his back in a soothing manner and leaned her tear stained cheek against the side of his arm.
"Erik, please forgive me," she whispered in a beseeching tone. "I did not mean to...to…" she had to stop there since in truth she was not quite sure what she had done. She now understood that he had been wearing a mask over his face and that the removal of it appeared to be what set him off, but she was still at a loss as to why. What had he been hiding? Was it his identity the mask shielded from view…or something else? "Please speak to me, Erik. Tell me what is going on. Why do you wear…this?" she held up the shaped piece of leather in her other hand, begging for understanding.
Her nearness was having a very calming effect on Erik, rubbing his back in a circular motion, once more very reminiscent of how Anna used to comfort him as a child. Lifting his head, Erik could now see the sincerity on Christine's face, the pleading look as she waited for him to explain himself…to tell her the truth. Even though it went against every fiber of his being, he knew she deserved nothing less than his full honesty. He had more than likely ruined everything already with his violent tirade; why not confess the rest of his sins as well?
Expelling a shaky breath, Erik shifted his body until he was facing her, still on his knees in a remorseful manner. Reaching out with trembling hands, he took the hated mask from her tiny fingers. He did not replace it though, choosing instead to bare his soul while uncovered and vulnerable. It was a small act of penance, but he needed to start somewhere.
"Christine," he began, searching desperately for the right words. "I…I have been untruthful with you. I have in fact…lied to you. I do not live down here beneath the earth because of some aversion to the sun…I do so to avoid the stares, the ridicule and the…the cries of fear." He stopped there and looked away, shame filling his eyes in the form of tears.
"Erik, what do you mean?" Christine pressed, now reaching up with her hands in an offer of comfort. Yet before she could make contact, he dropped the mask and gripped both her wrists, holding them at bay. It was not hard enough to cause pain, just enough to halt her progress and allow him to retain his dignity for a few moments longer.
"Christine…I…I am hideous," he choked out at last. "I am a freak of nature and I…I hide my shame behind…a mask. Yet, even though you are blind, you still recieved a perfect look at my true nature - through my inexcusable temper. I am a monster, through and through and for that I…I beg your forgiveness."
"Erik, it is I who should be asking for your pardon, not the other way around," Christine argued. "I should have respected your privacy, your choice to reveal - or not reveal - any information you felt I did not need to know."
"But don't you see…you deserved to know! You should be aware of the kind of hideous creature I am!" Erik moaned, pulling both her hands to his chest as he pressed them to his aching heart. "I deceived you into thinking I was a normal man, when in truth I am the farthest thing from it. I am a…beast…a living corpse!"
"That is not true…it can't be," she disputed. "How can you call yourself these things when you have been nothing but kind to me? You have saved my life three times since we met and that is something no monster or beast would have done. The man I have come to know is nothing like what you are describing in the least."
"Yet you cannot see me, Christine!" Erik bemoaned adamantly, causing her to pull back slightly at his harsh tone. "You are blind! And for that reason alone I allowed myself to…to pretend. I lied because I dreamed if you could not see the abhorrent face I possess, you could imagine that I was handsome…or at the very least not as hideously grotesque as I truly am. But no more…the illusion is gone…and only the ugly truth remains."
"But, Erik…you are handsome," Christine corrected. "You are handsome to me!"
Erik gave a bitter laugh before sobering.
"Not much of a compliment coming from a blind girl," he pointed out.
"I would still feel the same even if I could see as clear as day, Erik Trouville," she firmly insisted, a stern look crossing her face. "You claim to be ugly, that people do not accept you because of it, but I have had the privilege of getting to know you…the real you…without my eyes tainting the truth of who you are on the inside, where it counts. It does not matter to me what you look like, for outward appearances could never hide the true gentleman I see within." Christine pulled back and gave him a skeptical look. "Would you have treated me otherwise if I had looked different?"
"Of course not!" Erik affirmed, and he knew he was speaking the honest truth. For while he was quite pleased with Christine's looks, he could not deny that it was her heart and her amazing spirit that had caused him to fall in love with her…not simply her pretty face.
"Then why do you wish to paint me so shallow as to think that I would treat you so abominably?" Christine questioned. Her hands were still trapped between his own and she tugged at them gently, wishing for their freedom. "Allow me to see you, Erik…let me look with my hands and not my eyes."
"NO!" he gasped, shaking his head in terror. "I have had more than my fill of hearing people scream in terror from merely catching a glimpse of my face. I will not have you subjected to the horror of actually touching such a disfigurement!"
"Erik, please," she begged. "How else can I convince you that it does not matter unless you allow me to see you the only way I am able?"
"I do not need convincing, Christine," he stated firmly. "It is an impossibility, thus there is no need to even attempt such a thing."
"You are being ridiculous!" Christine fumed, becoming irritated with his denial of her request.
"I assure you, my dear…I am not," Erik countered, his tone just as resolute. "You are not strong enough to face the terror of what I am forced to call a face."
"Wouldn't I be the one best suited to decide such things? I promise I am not some delicate flower!" She released a small huff when she heard him give a hum of disagreement. "Well… not anymore at least! And since you freely admit to lying to me all this time…of the two of us, don't you think my word would be the one we should be trusting?" It was a low blow, she realized that, but she was prepared to fight dirty if it meant getting him to concede. As she waited for him to reply, the longer he stalled, the more confident of her victory she became. Regardless of what he felt, she knew Erik, and she understood his conscience would eventually force him to give in to her request. And she was right.
"Please, Christine, do not ask this of me," he begged. "You don't know what you are doing."
"Do you trust me, Erik?" she asked. "Do you trust that I would never betray your confidence again? I am not asking this out of morbid curiosity or to be cruel…I only want you to believe me, to understand that whatever you are, it is more than enough for me. I will not scream or run away, I promise. Please trust me."
Erik was stunned…had he not heard almost those exact same words once before? On the day he had willingly shown his face to his beloved nanny. Anna had not run away or screamed…she had kept her word. Perhaps he could trust Christine to do the same. Was it possible for such a miracle to happen twice?
"I…I do trust you, Christine," he sighed, his voice full of pain and fear. Yet his hands did indeed release hers, allowing them free rein, able to explore if she so desired.
Christine held perfectly still for a few moments, waiting to see if he would change his mind. When it did not appear that Erik would stop her, she allowed her hands to slide up his chest towards his face. He straightened and sucked in a deep breath the moment she touched him, his chin rising just a bit in an attempt to delay the inevitable, as her fingers crept closer and closer to their target. Up his neck they went and to his chin before coming in contact with his mangled face at last. He flinched as her thumb grazed his misshapen lips and she stilled her motion until he seemed to calm himself once more. Next she gently explored his cheeks and forehead, her brows furrowing as she mentally cataloged the oddly shaped topography of his face. She felt every bump, every dip and each patch of malformed skin he possessed. At last she brought her fingers back down to discover the absence of a fully formed nose, only a distorted bit of flesh housing mismatched nostrils.
"Do you still find me handsome, Christine?" he dared to ask, his voice now bitter and full of sarcasm. "You once asked why I remained a bachelor…well I think you finally have your answer."
"My good opinion of you has not changed, Erik," Christine assured him, allowing her hands to drop back to her lap, having seen all she needed. "I promised I would not betray your trust, and I always keep my promises." Her concerned expression suddenly changed, a small grin creeping to her delicate lips. "And it is nice to see that you were truthful about something at least," she finished with a confident nod.
"What is that?" he asked, completely stunned that after touching him the way she had, that she was willing to stay in the same room as him…not to mention still being conscious.
"That you indeed do not have a mustache or a beard," she told him, her little grin morphing into a big smile. "I have never cared for a man with facial hair, so I am pleased to find you clean shaven."
Erik sat there and stared at the woman before him in complete awe. He did not know whether to laugh or cry, for here was his precious Christine, the only woman he had ever loved in this manner, smiling up at him after he had revealed to her his darkest secret. She had not fainted, she had not screamed…she was smiling. Relief flooded his body, washing away the tense fear and dread that had consumed him and as it did, he bent forward, taking her hands in his as he pressed the back of them to his forehead. The tears began to flow freely as he thanked her over and over again, accompanied by words of his unending gratitude and devotion. Christine had done the unbelievable…she had accepted him.
"Shhhhh," she cooed, taking one of her hands from his grasp and bringing it up to stroke it through his hair as he continued to bow before her. "Don't cry, Erik. Everything will be all right now, nothing has changed."
Erik raised his head, looking at her with anxious eyes.
"You…you will still remain here…with me…even after learning the truth?" he asked, searching her face for answers.
"If you will still have me," she confirmed. "And as long as you are able to forgive me for unmasking you like I did. I truly am very sorry for that." She then smiled up at him. "Besides, I have grown rather attached to your little underground hideaway and…and where else would I ever find a better voice coach in all of Paris?"
Erik had no words to express his joy over her agreeing to stay, so instead of speaking he simply pulled her close in a grateful embrace, enjoying the idea that this perfect dream had not come to a dreadful conclusion after all. This was true happiness…this was bliss.
They sat there on the floor for some time, neither one willing to end their precious moment, but when he heard a small yawn escape from Christine, he knew it was time to rise.
"I think you have had a very exhausting afternoon, my dear," Erik announced, standing up as he tied his mask back in place. Gone was the unsure man who had just bared his soul, and in his place stood the composed and confident Opera Ghost once more. "I would recommend you take a nap, Christine. I will attempt to salvage what I can from the disaster I have created in here and have dinner waiting on the table when you choose to rise."
"Are you sure?" Christine asked, doing her best to stifle another yawn, betraying just how exhausted she truly was.
"Quite sure," Erik insisted, helping Christine to her feet. "Besides, it was you who pointed out that broken glass and a blind person do not mix. And I assure you, Christine, I have broken more than a few items in my fit of rage…for which I continue to beg your forgiveness."
"How about we call it even and never speak of it again?" she offered with a hopeful smile.
"You are far too generous…yet, because I desire it so, I will take you up on your offer," he told her, guiding her through the mess he had made and directly to her bedroom door. "Now, get some rest. You will need it now that you are an upcoming opera star, and I intend for you to start work on your piece for the festival directly after dinner."
"What a slave driver you are!" Christine told him with a laugh. "Do I not even get one evening respite?"
"You know what they say, my dear," Erik said with a tisking sound. "There is no rest for the wicked."
Christine gave an exaggerated moan of complaint as she made her way into her room, yet the warm smile she wore never left her lips.
.
.
Erik waited outside until he was sure she had made it to the bed safely, before returning to the sitting room and surveying the chaos he had created with a sad shake of his head. He stooped down to pick up a few scattered books when he heard the crumple of paper near his ear. Looking down he saw the corner of Christine's letter sticking out of his vest pocket and suddenly all thoughts of cleaning the mess around him were quickly forgotten. Righting his favorite chair, he sat down and opened the envelope, eager to read the words Christine had written to her parents – ones that she had refused to allow him to see. He felt a twinge of regret at reading her personal mail, but now that it was in his hands, there was no turning back. Her penmanship was surprisingly legible for having been written without sight, and he congratulated himself on having come up with the idea on how to keep her sentences straight. Erik was also very pleased that Swedish was one of the many tongues he had chosen to study, being both fluent in speech as well as reading and writing, for that had been the language Christine had chosen to pen her letter. Sitting back, he allowed his eager eyes to begin to read…
Dear Mother and Father,
Please forgive me for not writing sooner, but things have been rather strange here lately and time has slipped away from me. Do not worry though, I am perfectly well and enjoying my stay in Paris. It really is all you said it would be, Mother. However, I am afraid that our dreams of me singing on stage at the Opera Garnier have not come to fruition. I have since come to terms with my disappointment and moved on to seek other goals in life. I have not discovered what that might be just yet but I have confidence that I shall in time.
Erik paused there as he was forced to remind himself that Christine had written this letter before he had discovered her amazing voice and arranged for her to audition at the opera. At that point in time she had obviously figured any opportunity to do so had already passed her by. He wondered what her family would have thought of this news, had it actually reached them. Perhaps it was a good thing he had forgotten to mail the letter, since everything he had read thus far no longer applied.
I am quite content with my living conditions and have made a few new friends during my stay. In fact there is one person in particular I hope to introduce to you someday soon. His name is Erik Trouville and he has become quite dear to me. He is an amazing musician and I am certain that you both will be as impressed with him as I am. He has been invaluable to me in my search for other employment and has made sure I am safe and taken care of while here in France. I hope you both will come to care for him as much as I have, for he is quite exceptional in every way.
Erik halted here and allowed his eager eyes to reread the paragraph a second time, shocked at how Christine had described him. He had become dear to her? She had called him exceptional and even went so far as to say she cared for him! Erik could feel tears pricking at his eyes as he stared at the physical evidence of his Christine's budding feelings for him. No one had forced her to write this and she had believed that it was something he would never have seen, so why would she have penned such words if she had not truly meant them? Erik was genuinely touched. He took a deep breath and continue reading.
I wish I could tell you more, but since things are still very much in fluctuation, all I can do is assure you that I am happy, in good health and doing well. Please do not worry for me and I will write you again soon. I hope you both are well and that fall in Sweden has not been too harsh or cold, I know how father's bones ache when the snows arrive. I wish you good health and happiness.
All my love,
Your devoted daughter,
Christine.
Erik read the letter two more times in full before he pressed it to his aching heart and shut his eyes. If he had not already been convinced of his love for Christine before this, it would have now been solidified in stone. She was a treasure, his muse and undeniably the only woman in the world for him. Erik only prayed that by exposing his lies to her, as well as his horrible face, he had not killed any tender emotions that might have been growing in her gentle heart…no matter how small or insignificant they might have been.
Well, there you go. Erik has been unmasked!
how do you think it went?
Did she do the right thing?
were you happy to FINALLY have the letter read? I thought some of you were going to die from not knowing!
Was it what you thought she might have written?
