Well, I guess this is it!
I am so grateful to all those reviewers who have encouraged (and, at times, corrected) me. Thank you so much!
And my thanks to all who have read this story, too.
I do not own POTO, or its characters.
Persephone Seduces
Joel Simmons, special to The Times
I admit it. I was among many who had come to the première of Persephone expecting to bury Christine Darrow, not to praise her. Those of us who have admired Krystine Castro for these many years were not prepared to see her upstaged by an upstart. We waited, cudgels in hand. I must note that Erik Darrow, the upstart´s husband, had been forgiven his part in this supposed sham from the very beginning. After all, he had given us Gwydion and The Fates and the Furies as well as a great many orchestral works and various chamber pieces. Yes, we could forgive him anything! So we waited through Persephone´s brilliant overture for Christine Darrow to appear and receive the brunt of our wrath.
A miracle! The goddess Persephone herself appeared in glorious lyric soprano and disarmed the entire audience – and we listened, amazed. This was no product of blind nepotism, but dazzling genius. The part required a greater range than Darrow´s other works and featured vocal acrobatics which Ms. Darrow executed with the greatest technical perfection this critic has ever heard... her dramatic prowess failed her only, surprisingly, in the form of an unconvincing seduction of Adonis…
Christine´s eyes skimmed farther down, to where the critic mentioned Erik´s performance.
…and the question which now burns in the minds of all who heard this tenor´s glorious voice is, "Who was he?" There have been wild rumors regarding his identity. One of the stranger theories suggests that Erik Darrow himself was the tenor who sang Hades. Such an extravagant idea must have its origins in the incredible chemistry which existed between Ms. Darrow and this mysterious Hades…
"Such a shame you won´t take credit," murmured Christine, her head resting on Erik´s bare shoulder. The morning sunlight filtered in through the window, illuminating her husband´s unmasked features. She sat up and went absently through her morning ritual of massaging a soothing cream into his damaged skin, then gave the bad side of his face her customary kiss. His gaze, as intense as ever, never left her. He´ll never learn to take me for granted, she thought to herself in wry gratitude.
This morning was to be spent in bed. Erik had decreed it, and Christine was all too happy to lose herself in him during these hours. His lovemaking was gentle and joyful now, interspersed with snatches of poetry in different languages. When his kisses were not erotic, he kissed her hands, his unshaven chin brushing her knuckles roughly, and played with her hair.
As they rested, Christine alternately stroking and massaging his skin, he sat up suddenly and embraced her, a touch of his old tension returning.
"I have been a fool, Christine. Please forgive me. You must know that I cannot change, however. I shall always fear losing you."
This was as close as he would come to speaking of the conflict which had existed between them until last night. Christine accepted his statement, resigned and silent, running her fingers through his hair as she thought. She could insist, as always, that she loved him and would never leave him, but his fear would always be stronger than his faith in her love. His fear – a permanent fixture from his past.
"We´ll have to live this down from day to day," she finally murmured. There is no such thing as a perfect marriage, is there? And yet we are happy.
When Erik and Christine went downstairs to join their children, they found that Nadir had arrived and was chatting with Mrs. Donovan as the boys played. Christine was touched by Nadir´s devotion to his role as surrogate grandfather. These days, the majority of his visits were strictly social and had nothing to do with business.
As Mrs. Donovan went into the kitchen to prepare drinks, Nadir chatted quietly with Erik and Christine.
"I understand de Chagny is about to know the meaning of extreme poverty?" he inquired, fidgeting with a pair of Lego blocks.
"No," said Christine, "Erik decided to give Raoul a choice: extreme poverty or a transfer to Anchorage, Alaska. He and Chelsea chose Anchorage."
"The cold weather should bring that couple closer together, if only to keep warm," observed Nadir, smiling.
"That, and marriage counseling," Erik said, somewhat tartly. "I´m requiring that they seek it, now, rather than suggesting it. Mr. de Chagny´s marriage has better prospects than he suspects; perhaps common sense will finally guide him, and he will learn to be satisfied with his wife instead of seeking that which he cannot have."
Nadir nodded and looked distractedly towards the kitchen door. "I think I´d better help Mary bring those drinks," he said, and left the room to help.
"Mary?" said Christine, astonished. "How on earth did he manage to get on a first-name basis with Mrs. Donovan? I´ve known her for years, and she´s still ´Mrs. Donovan´ to me."
"She and Nadir have spent a great deal of time together being grandparents to our children. In fact, I suspect that they may be getting on quite well together…" Erik´s voice lowered suggestively at the end of his comment, and he invited Christine to approach the kitchen door with a quick gesture. As soon as they were both close enough to the door, Erik opened it quite suddenly, revealing Nadir and Mrs. Donovan immersed in a kiss. They pulled apart quickly, discomfited, their eyes directed at the floor – two teenagers caught in the act.
Erik and Christine stood frozen in the doorway – Erik with his arms crossed, and Christine clasping and unclasping her hands in nervous astonishment.
"Nadir," said Erik sternly, "I cannot have such things going on under my roof. We have been friends and associates a good many years, but I cannot have you pawing Mrs. Donovan…"
"He wasn´t pawing Mrs. Donovan," protested Christine, shocked at her husband´s prudishness.
"Then what in Heaven´s name would you call it?" retorted Erik, lifting a brow.
"Billing and cooing?" she ventured. "Certainly nothing serious, and I…"
"I disagree. It offends this household´s decorum – perhaps even its respectability. I despise issuing ultimatums; however -- Nadir, if you are not engaged to be married within the next hour, I will have no choice but to terminate your employment with me." This was said with such icy severity that even Christine, accustomed as she was to her husband´s extremes, shuddered. The color had drained from Mrs. Donovan´s face completely, and she stared at her employer, wide-eyed.
Erik shut the door in order to permit the couple some degree of privacy. Christine noticed that James and Miles were staring at them owlishly from the doorway at the other end of the dining room; they knew something was afoot.
"Erik," she ventured, "Don´t you think you´re taking this just a bit far?"
"Just give them time," Erik murmured, "and we shall see where this goes."
"What goes where?" asked James.
"Nadir and Mrs. Donovan…" started Christine.
"They like each other very much," interrupted James.
"It´s very tragic," pronounced Miles solemnly. He had developed the habit of using words whose sounds he liked before he learned their meanings.
"That, young man, is the wrong word for it. Tragic is derived from the word tragedy, and refers, in a nutshell, to a dramatic work which ends in death. Now, if you were to speak of comedy…" Erik instructed.
"Com-dy?" inquired Miles.
Just when Christine was certain she would scream, the kitchen door opened, and Nadir emerged. She was near enough to overhear his whispered conversation with Erik.
"It worked! She not only said yes, but she agreed to set a date! How can I ever thank you?" he said, beaming, as Erik gave him a congratulatory handshake.
"Erik," hissed Christine, "Did you two set Mrs. Donovan up? Did you? You did, didn´t you?"
Erik shushed her, an eye on the kitchen door, but Christine was beside herself. Nadir joined the children and ushered them quietly out of earshot.
"I can´t believe this! Erik! You´ve done it again! When will you stop marrying people off?"
"When you permit me to kill them instead," he murmured in her ear, smiling maliciously and nipping her neck with his teeth when he was certain no one was looking.
In the kitchen, Mrs. Donovan sat at a table, her legs still shaking with shock. Little by little, she began to absorb what had just happened, and she started to chortle, then to giggle uncontrollably. She did her best to stifle herself so no one could hear her, but gave up as she gave herself over to peals of laughter. Why did I ever think myself old? Why, I´m nothing but a girl yet!
No bridesmaids or groomsmen. No ringbearer. No gifts. No banquet. Just a simple ceremony – "an intimate celebration," as Nadir put it – with a select gathering of close friends, in the garden. The happy couple wanted nothing more. A table was set up on the patio for the wedding cake which Meg and Joe would be providing, along with punch and soft drinks appropriate for a morning wedding.
The Fates had gifted Nadir and Mrs. Donovan with a beautiful late-summer day, and Christine drank in the sunlight as she bustled about preparing things. Mrs. Donovan did not know what to do with herself, as accustomed as she was to making herself useful. Now she was ordered to relax and let others do all the work, and it disagreed with her character completely. She was incapable of sitting, and so she stood nervously in her unaccustomed trappings: her beige linen dress did not bear a single stain, and her salt-and-pepper hair, which she had always swept up into a bun, was now coiffed into gentle waves. She wore a discreet amount of makeup, too, and Christine thought she looked beautiful. She smiled to herself with the certainty that Nadir would agree.
Christine could hear James´ and Miles´ shouted greetings, and she knew that Meg and Joe had arrived. They appeared – Meg carried several bags, and Joe took the wedding cake to its place of honor at the table.
Christine opened the conversation with her friend with a direct question.
"Did you tell him?"
Meg smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, I told him last night, you know…"
"You see? It wasn´t that awful, now, was it?"
"Are you kidding? Joe gets all goofy when he´s happy, and he kept me up all night! He wouldn´t stop trying to feed me things! Then he started talking about how I´ll look in a few months…" Meg picked at an invisible stain on her skirt and shuddered. "Seven more months of this, and I think I´ll go bonkers…"
Christine glanced at the shady edge of the apple grove, and noted with surprise that Erik was conversing there with Joe. Or, rather, that Joe was speaking animatedly to Erik while Erik listened, amused. The congratulatory handshake near the end of their conversation seemed to last an extremely long time, and Christine realized that it was because Joe was simply too distracted to stop. Erik said something to Joe, but the handshake continued, while Joe continued to speak. Finally, Erik grasped Joe by the offending wrist and gently removed his hand.
Meg and Christine exchanged a complicit glance, then burst into laughter. Christine put an arm about Meg´s shoulder, sobering.
"How are you feeling this morning?" she asked.
Meg brightened. "Better! No morning sickness this time, but I only had soda crackers for breakfast, like you told me. Joe was ready to force-feed me!"
"It´ll get better, just wait. Well, I see the guests are beginning to arrive!"
The two women interrupted their conversation reluctantly and began the business of greeting people and helping them to their seats.
Christine and Erik sat with their children in the folding chairs near the back, since Erik´s first impulse when surrounded by people was always to disappear. The sunlight-dappled shade seemed to suit him, however, and he relaxed and watched
James and Miles were watching Nadir and Mrs. Donovan, craning their necks, as the judge began the wedding ceremony. James stood up in order to see over people´s heads, while Miles climbed into his mother´s lap. Erik glanced at them, smiling slightly.
"So, is this still tragic, Miles?" Christine asked softly, smiling down at him.
"No-o-o-o-o…" he said, his index finger in his mouth.
"Of course not," murmured Erik, putting his arm around Christine and giving her slow, tender look. "Tragedies, as I was saying, are sad affairs which end in death. This would be a comedy. Comedies, you see, end with a wedding."
They quieted and listened; near an apple tree, laden now with fruit, Nadir and his Mary exchanged their vows.