CHAPTER 37

Erik had dozed in and out of sleep throughout the night. For the most part during his waking moments, he spent them staring at his wife, peacefully nestled within his arm. Occasionally he would caress the swell of her belly lovingly, thinking of the child which grew within her. They certainly had come a long way since that first moment he had pulled her through the mirror at the opera house. Had anyone told him then that he'd be where he was right now, he likely would have laughed it off. Just before strangling the person with his lasso, of course.

Now fate, it seemed, had given him everything he had ever hoped for. "My Christine…" He smiled as he watched the evening skies slowly giving way to dawn. His past may have started out tragically, but that was now far behind him. He looked forward to the future now, with Christine at his side and many children to bless his home with their laughter and love.

His thoughts strayed to Madame Giry, remembering how she had cared for him at a time when all others did not. She had been the only mother figure in his world of unending darkness. Over the years they had forged a friendship, though it was not always without its problems. Earlier on, he had had trouble with trusting her fully, always feeling the need to lie about everything. He had grown to learn that it was virtually impossible to get anything past her. At times it was as if she knew him more than he knew himself. But through it all, if he was certain of one thing, it was that her relationship was invaluable to him.

Laughing inwardly, he thought back to the port in Algeciras. What a sight it had been to see Madame Giry standing upon the docks, both hands resting atop the ivory handle of her cane, the stern look on her face torn with both relief and anger. Not that he had ever dreamt of being Raoul, but he was certainly glad not to be in his position at that particular moment. The hard look she had given the young Comte had only meant one thing. He had not been forthcoming with her about the nature of their absence.

Erik had remained quiet, the others following his lead as Madame Giry confronted Raoul immediately after they had disembarked the barge. Though only he and his wife had known her well, it did not take a genius for all of them to figure out that she was upset. He had never bothered to ask the Comte about the finer details involved in his and Christine's trip, concentrating only on recovering Meg and Alhena at the time. It all made sense now though seeing the older woman's face, knowing full well she would have never let Christine accompany her son-in-law had she been privy to her daughter's abduction.

Amused, Erik let slip a half chuckle, stirring his wife next to him. She simply turned away from him, taking the portion of his cape he had covering himself with her. He sighed, deciding it was best to get up and close the curtains of the window before the light of day disturbed her from her restful sleep. He took one last look at the passing countryside, the rolling hills shrouded in mist which would burn off with the first light of day. He held his hand to the window for a moment, feeling the cold against it, before covering the window and returning to lie beside his wife once more.

A week later…

Madame Giry and Meg had met them all at the train depot in Orléans, France. Their belongings were being stowed securely within the several carriages that Francois, Victor, and Nicolas had driven. They took a few moments to say their respective goodbyes, promising to visit the de Chagny estate for dinner in a few days.

Off to the side, Madame Giry walked with Erik, her arm locked with his for support. "There is much my daughter has told me, mon ami."

"I'm sure she has. I'd imagine anything more I could add at this point would be inconsequential," he teased.

They laughed together a moment, knowing how well Meg loved to tell tales.

"As true as that may be, I wanted to congratulate you on your impending fatherhood."

"Thank you." He paused, considering his next words a moment before continuing. "Annette, there is something I must ask you."

They stopped walking, and Madame Giry turned to look at him curiously. "What is it, Erik?" Her voice carried a trace of concern.

"I've had plenty of time to think about this during my time away, and I've already discussed the matter with Christine," he paused.

"Mon dieu! What's wrong?" The elder Giry felt a panic rise inside of her.

Suddenly seeing how this must look to her, he laughed and shook his head. "Must you always perceive things for the worst?"

"You must know by now that any matter concerning you, leaves me little choice in thinking otherwise," she admitted.

"Annette," he eyed her thoughtfully and smiled. "I simply wished to ask if you would consider being the Godmother of our child. Christine and I would be honored if you said yes."

"Idiot! You gave me such a fright!" She brought her hand to her chest, sighing in relief. "Did you think I would refuse such a request? I would be delighted!" Her laughter joined his as they embraced again.

"Monsieur Delacroix, the carriage is ready!" Victor called out to him.

"Then I shall tell Christine you've accepted." Erik stepped away, smiling back at her. "Now, come. I shall see you in a few days for dinner, but for now, after all of this," he turned, gesturing grandly to the world around him. "I would just like to return my wife to the comforts of our home."

The following day…

It was a cool afternoon at Père Lachaise. Erik, Christine, Alhena, and Nadir, had gathered at the main entrance of the cemetery. They entered the west gate, walking the long distance northeast to reach Eugène Delacroix's tomb. For Erik, it was a strange feeling to be traveling to the grave of a father he had never known, but yet he felt a tremendous sense of loss as he held tight to his mother's urn. With the afternoon breezes blowing his cape behind him, they slowly approached the marker.

A few moments of silence separated the four as they each paid their respects individually.

"You and your wife gave the world a tremendous gift, sir. My sadness is that you never got to see it in life. I should like to meet you someday, to see you both reunited together with my dearest friend. Allah willing, that shall be many moons from now. We all have much living to do yet, as does your son, Erik. Today and forever, may you both have peace upon your souls," Nadir prayed quietly. He then bowed before stepping away from the tomb.

"Your son has brought me such happiness. I am truly blessed because of Erik. I cannot thank you both enough for bringing him into the world. He means everything to me and I love him with all my heart. I wish you both happiness in heaven and an eternity of peace at the right hand of God. I pray that you both watch over us and our child, just as He does." A tear running down her cheek, Christine too stepped away.

"Father, I wish that we could make up the time we lost long ago. I know you loved us, yet I also know you grieved. I do not blame you for your absence anymore. I've learned that love can heal all harm. Until we meet again, know that I still love you. And Mother? I thank you for making me who I am. Not just for giving me life, but making me strong. In both words and wisdom, I learned everything from you. I will always love you, and I hope I can make you proud someday." Alhena wiped her eyes, looking over at Erik, standing beside her in silence.

"Mother and Father. Two concepts I thought I knew once. My deepest regret is that it took so many years to understand the true meaning behind those simple terms. I have not the words to say to express my appreciation for both of you. My life has not always been an exemplary one, being bereft of my parents love. But as you can both see, I've been redeemed by the love of those around me. That redemption will keep my soul happy and free for all the rest of my days. I hope that the two of you have found each other once more, just as I've finally found myself, whole in mind and spirit." Erik raised his head from prayer and reached out for his sister's hand.

Christine and Nadir stood a few feet back, watching as both siblings scattered their mother's ashes across the length of the grave.

When the task was complete, Erik wrapped his right arm about Alhena's shoulders and pulled her close as she wept softly. A few tears escaped his eyes, nearly forcing him to break down beside her, but for her sake, he remained steady.

The wind rustled through the trees, creating a sweeping vision of serenity. Leaves glided amongst them as they were carried through the air. Christine watched her husband and sister-in-law, wishing to somehow sooth their sorrow. She did what she knew best, in honor of their parents' memory. With the gift God had given her, one that Erik had helped to enhance, she would sing.

Ave Maria
Gratia plena
Maria, gratia plena
Maria, gratia plena
Ave, ave dominus
Dominus tecum
Benedicta tu in mulieribus
Et benedictus
Et benedictus fructus ventris
Ventris tuae, Jesus.
Ave Maria

Erik looked to the pale blue skies above, tears flowing freely now, as Christine's angelic voice rang out to the heavens and moved him deeply.

Ave Maria
Mater Dei
Ora pro nobis peccatoribus
Ora pro nobis
Ora, ora pro nobis peccatoribus
Nunc et in hora mortis
Et in hora mortis nostrae
Et in hora mortis nostrae
Et in hora mortis nostrae
Ave Maria

Her song came to and end, being replaced by only the whispering winds once again.

Nadir expressed his appreciation softly. "That was very beautiful," he smiled, and then took Christine by the hand. "Come, let us wait for them there," he pointed at a bench a few yards away. "You should not be standing for so long."

"Oh, I'm fine. I shouldn't leave him here like this." Her heart was breaking for her husband's grief.

"We will not be far," Nadir assured her. "They will be along shortly."

Christine looked back at the two, still facing their father's tomb completely silent. "I guess I could sit for just awhile."

The two of them walked down the path toward the bench, leaving Erik and his sister to their grieving.

Raoul sat in his study, months of paperwork piled upon his desk. It would take him weeks to go through it all, but he would do it all the same. He was not about to ask for his father's help, not after leaving France the way he did. He would just have to prove himself to be responsible, even if it meant being chained to his desk day and night. He sighed, wondering for the tenth time if he and Meg should have gone to the funeral with the others. Erik had invited them, but he also did not seem offended by their refusal. It was after all, a family matter.

"You sent for me, Comte?" Guifford knocked on the wall, poking his head in from behind the solid oak door.

"Ah, Monsieur Marceau, indeed I did." Raoul looked up from his work and waved him inside.

"Is there some sort of problem?" He asked tentatively.

"Problem? Oh, no. I'd like to have a word with you." Raoul gestured at a chair opposite his desk.

Guifford took a seat, removing his bowler hat. "I have something I would like to speak with you about also."

"You do?" Raoul leaned forward, his hands interlocked upon his desk. "Go on then."

"I would like to return home, to Compiègne if you will allow it. With all that has gone on in my life in the past, I have not seen my children and sister in several years now."

Raoul smiled. "I've made the arrangements already. You are to leave before nightfall."

Guifford was stunned. At the most he had hoped to beg for a few days off to spend with his family before the Comte put him to work in his employ. "Are you serious?"

Nodding, he continued. "As le Comtesse has promised, I've taken the liberty to compensate you for all that you've done. I've just finished setting up an account in your name and I think you will find the amount is more than suitable for your needs. Your family will never grow hungry again, Monsieur." Seeing the big man stunned by what he was hearing, Raoul winked at him, "See to it that you do not squander the funds needlessly."

"I don't know how I will ever be able to repay you for your kindness and generosity."

"You saved my wife's life. You owe me nothing." Raoul extended his hand across the table.

Guifford shook it firmly. "Was there something more you wished to ask? I find myself eager to gather my things now, if I may."

"Ah, yes. I almost forget. It's a matter of business." Raoul opened his desk and pulled forth several documents.

"What sort of business?"

"Well, as you know, I am the patron of the Opera Populaire, and it appears we are in need of a stagehand."

Shaking his head, Guifford replied. "I am not much for the Arts, Comte."

"You don't need to be. You would be in charge of building the new sets for the stage. My wife told me your field is carpentry, is it not?"

"Yes, that is true. Unfortunately my love for it never garnered me any work back home. It's been quite some time since I've planed a piece of wood or even picked up a hammer for that matter. My skills now may be less than satisfactory to meet your needs, Comte."

"That's understandable, given your previous line of work. Though, it is said that one never truly forgets that which they love." Raoul smiled. "Now, I can only hold the job for a week, in which time, should you choose not to accept, I will be forced to find someone else. The new production of Giuseppe Verdi's "La Traviata" is already in rehearsals and the opera house will be in need of those new set designs immediately, so you can understand the position I'm in."

"I do, though I was hoping to find something closer to home. I've spent far too much time away from my children already."

"If you are not opposed to relocating, I can make sure you that you would have a home here in Paris, in which to raise your children.

He blew out a great breath, in wonder of the Comte's offer. "You would do this, for me?"

"And your family," Raoul added.

"I apologize if I do not appear to be grateful, but this is something that I am not accustomed to. No one has ever treated me in this manner."

"I assure you, my offer is sincere. I am a man of business, Monsieur Marceau, not barbarity."

"If I am still allowed the week to decide, then I should like to think on it more and talk with my family before agreeing with certainty."

"Of course. I shall expect to hear from you in a week's time." Raoul stood from behind his desk and walked over to Guifford. "Come," he placed his hand against the man's back. "Let us enjoy lunch before you rush off to pack."

Both men exited the study and headed for the dining room, Guifford's rumbling stomach causing them to laugh on the way.

Erik and Alhena walked arm and arm toward Christine and Nadir. Just before they reached them, Alhena stopped and faced her brother directly.

"Where one journey ends, another begins, my brother."

"What do you mean?"

"It is time I was on my way."

"On your way to where?" Erik asked in confusion.

Alhena looked around wistfully. "Anywhere, but here really."

"How can you say that? You've only just arrived and you are here with me." He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "I can provide you with whatever it is you'll need here in France."

"France may be your beloved home, Erik, but it is not mine." Alhena met his puzzled gaze with a sad stare of her own.

"It's not my home either, Erik." Nadir joined in, as he and Christine walked up to where they stood, unnoticed by the siblings.

"Stay out of this, Daroga." He snarled. "This does not concern you. This is between me and my sister."

"Don't you talk to him in that tone!" Alhena raised her voice.

"Erik, what's going on?" Christine asked in worry, seeing her husband tense up as he faced the others.

Nadir put his hands on the Alhena's shoulders. "I can defend myself against the likes of him, my dear. I've been doing it for years."

"I said stay out of this, Daroga!" Erik turned on his friend, raising a finger before the Persian's surprised face.

Christine was not amused. "Please, you all need to calm down. This is neither the time nor the place to be fighting. We are amongst the dead and this place is to be respected." She pleaded with them.

"My apologies, sister. But my pig-headed brother seems to think he can run my life for me." Alhena replied simply.

"Pig-headed? Pig-headed!" Erik fumed.

Gripping the Persian by the arm, Christine implored him. "Nadir, could you please take my husband over to the bench. I wish to speak with Alhena without interruption."

"As you wish." He bowed to her, moving between Alhena and her brother.

"I'm not going anywhere. We're not done here." Erik stepped away from Nadir's grasp.

"You see? Pig-headed!" Alhena smirked wickedly.

"Alhena…" Christine chided, scolding her with her tone.

Erik sputtered, looking for a response. "I take great offense to…"

"Please!" Christine raised her hand to silence him. "Just go with Nadir. Do this one thing for me."

It took a few moments before Erik decided to comply with his wife's wishes, not wanting to upset her delicate state of being.

"Come on then." Nadir took hold of Erik's arm.

"I won't have you leading me anywhere. I am capable of moving of my own free will." Erik swirled his cape about him and rushed off down the path toward the bench, Nadir following after him and shaking his head.

"If you plan on trying to convince me to stay, I should warn you, you'll only be wasting your breath." Alhena told Christine, as the two women walked together.

Christine nodded in understanding. "I know that I have not spent nearly enough time with you, but despite appearances, I'm not about to stop you from leaving. I only wish to say goodbye and wish you well."

"I don't understand."

Looking around their quiet surroundings, Christine continued. "I, of all people, know that when a woman is set in her ways, there's nothing to keep her from changing them." She smiled. "You are a grown woman and Erik has no right to tell you to lead a life that is not yours. You should know that it is because he loves you, that he acts in this manner. You must also understand that he's never known anything remotely close to this."

"Close to what?"

"Family." Christine replied simply. "He never had a father. The woman he had known as his mother was a monster. And his true mother he had newly found, died before he could truly bond with her. You are the last piece to the puzzle, of the life he could have had."

Alhena scoffed. "Does he not realize that I will not be gone forever from his life? I plan on visiting him as often as possible, once I am settled wherever it may be. And I would hope that he would do the same."

"It is not knowing with certainty that you will, which fuels his need to hold on to you."

Her hand reached up to brush back her hair. "Well, there's no way of easing that fear of his until I do return."

"Precisely. Which brings me back to saying goodbye." Christine held out her arms.

Alhena wrapped her own arms around Christine lovingly. "You're a lot smarter than he'll ever know."

Giggling, Christine replied. "Oh, he'll figure it out someday." They released one another after a few moments. "So, you have no idea where you're headed?"

"On the train ride through Spain, Nadir often spoke of Persia. I don't know that I will call it home, but it is to be my first stop." Alhena admitted.

"Persia!" Erik said incredulously, storming up the path where they stood.

"I'm sorry, he wouldn't stay put for very long." Nadir sighed.

"Of all places, Persia?" Erik turned to glare at Nadir. "This is your doing, isn't it!"

"I never suggested she visit Persia. I had only spoken of it to her."

"And that makes it your doing, Daroga!"

"Erik!" Christine raised her voice, which made him turn suddenly to face her. "Be it Persia or elsewhere, she is leaving, and you and I have no right to keep her from going."

"Persia is dangerous!" Erik faced his sister. "It may be a place filled with mystic beauty, but there are dangers so dark and unimaginable... I can't allow this."

"Erik, listen to me!" Christine snapped at him impatiently, gathering his full attention. "Mon amour, if we do not grant her the freedom to leave, then we are no better than the men that had kept her against her will for the whole of her life."

As if he was slapped across the face, Erik knew immediately that she was right. It still made the decision difficult for him. He had hoped she would stay longer, at least for the baby's birth, "And for me," he admitted to himself.

"You can't travel to Persia alone. I need to be sure you'll be safe."

Nadir spoke up. "I have a place in Shiraz, miles away from Mazanderan. It is modest compared to your taste for the luxurious, but we would be safe there." He flushed slightly. "If she will allow it, I will gladly accompany her."

It almost seemed unfair that now he would be losing not only his sister, but his best friend too. But if there was anyone to entrust her safety to, it would be the Persian. "Nadir had once been responsible for my own life. While I live and breathe, I will not forget what he had done for me that day by the Caspian coastline."

Alhena smiled shyly. "I guess you could escort me. But I thought France was your home?"

He faced her, gesturing over his shoulder at Erik. "Only long enough to keep watch over his miserable soul." He smiled and continued. "I think it's safe to say he won't be causing any unnecessary mischief now that he'll be a father."

"Well, it would appear that some good will come of this trip of yours, sister. I can finally be rid of his bedraggled hide." Erik grinned, making sure to get the last jibe at his friend. He approached her and enfolded her in a strong embrace. "Be sure to write upon your arrival, or I shall worry. If I have to travel back to Persia because of your failure to write…" He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "I will be forced to drag you both back to France to stay."

Two months later…

As promised, Erik had received word from Shiraz, Persia. Unfolding the letter, he read through its contents with a smile. His sister, it seemed, was doing well and apparently had taken up sculpting as a hobby. Unfortunately for Nadir, that meant having to haul various sizes of rock for her to use in her pastime. He laughed aloud thinking of his friend catering to the likes of his sister. "Just when you thought you were rid of one Delacroix…"

"Erik?" Christine interrupted his musings.

"Yes, mon ange?"

"Can you help me with these drapes?"

Setting the letter down on his lap, he called out to her. "I'll be right there. You'd better not be carrying those upstairs yourself."

"Oh no, Nicolas is bringing them up for me."

As her voice faded down the hall, Erik continued to read his letter from Nadir.

This will no doubt be of any surprise to you, but nonetheless I must inform you of it. It appears as though our old friend Jean has met a most untimely, and excruciatingly painful, demise.

According to an old friend, the Shah learned that a large amount of his secret funds had been diverted to an individual account in Bornu that he was not aware of. As you can imagine, he took this rather personally. He sent out a hundred men to seek out the truth of the situation and bring back the perpetrators of the crime. I'm told they stormed Faraj's old home and killed all within with the exception of Jean. Don't think for a moment he was spared however. He was beaten soundly, and his skin peeled off in many places before he talked. He told all he knew about his former master and his associates, including the Comte. It was, however deemed to be all lies. Consequently he was sentenced to be taken back to Persia for judgment... by a rope around his body, dragged along the ground behind several sturdy horses.

Sadly, he did not survive the trip. Truly an incredible loss, is it not?

My contact will be arriving later in the week to discuss the happenings of Kukawa further. If there is anything more to be shared, I, of course, will send word to you.

I hope this finds you and Christine both in good health. You are never far from our thoughts, believe me. We hope to get the chance to visit soon, my old friend. Until then, our prayers go with you.

-Nadir and Alhena

The curtains were hung in the nursery, and it was almost ready to be graced by the little one's appearance, though that was still a few months away yet. Erik had plenty of time to finish the bassinet before then. He had been hand carving the mahogany wood to perfection, and now it was just about done. It would need a few more weeks of sanding and then prepping it for comfort.

Christine was lying in bed, cuddled up with a book when Erik entered the room. He undressed and got into bed next to her, caressing her stomach as he always did before falling asleep. Tonight he had something to ask her before then.

"Have you decided on a name yet, mon ange?" He asked quietly.

"I've been so busy with the nursery, I honestly hadn't thought about it yet. All we've been calling it is 'baby' over the course of my pregnancy and I guess I've just gotten used to it." She laughed, embarrassed.

"I guess that's fair enough. I've been concentrating on getting the bassinet aligned perfectly that I, too, hadn't thought about it," he admitted. "That is, until tonight."

"So, what did you come up with?" She wondered.

"It'll be a girl, as beautiful as you." He kissed her belly.

"And her name, since you're so sure, Monsieur Delacroix," she asked sarcastically.

His palm flat against her stomach, he smiled and gazed in amazement at it. "Simple. She would be my little kitten. I would call her Caitlin."

Christine thought about the name for a moment and then smiled. "I do fancy the name. Caitlin…" she said, testing it upon her own lips. "Caitlin it is then."

"I thought you'd see it my way." He winked.

"Erik…"

"Yes?" He replied.

"If it's a boy."

Realizing what she meant, he scrunched up his face in distaste. "What? No, I won't doom my child to be teased as a junior. And besides, it will be a girl. Trust me, I know these things."

"And how do you know these things?" She looked at him, disbelief apparent on her features.

He shrugged. "I simply do. And I'm right… oh, about half of the time." He teased at her, his hands poking about her body.

She stopped his tickling hands in hers and held them tight. "But if it's a boy…"

"We're not naming him after me. There is to be only one Erik in this house and that's me." He growled playfully, pulling her close as the night descended upon them.

Author's Note
The Countdown Now Reads: "3 Chapters Left!"

Disclaimer
I am not affiliated, nor do I own the rights to Franz Schubert's "Ave Maria" and Giuseppe Verdi's "La Traviata."