Chapter 37

The modest one story home seemed a bit underwhelming for a woman who had the power to ruin his life. It was also disturbingly bright and neat, providing him with few shadowy corners to skulk in once he slipped inside. He settled for a pantry with slats in the door, taking care not to spill flour all over himself as he entered. He watched as Mariella gave her husband a kiss on the brow. He was a round, bald, stumpy looking man, rather a contrast to his wife's tall, buxom figure and runaway tongue. Now however, the woman was quiet, muttering a soft good evening before leaving Erik's view, but preparing dinner by the sound of it.

A toddler ran into the room, squealing "Mama!" his grubby hands waving in the air.

"My baby, how are you?" The child began babbling, and Erik's attention soon slipped away. Inevitably his mind wandered to Christine. Of course she'd been frightened by Mariella's discovery, but Erik was still shocked by her protectiveness of him. He was always trying to make Christine feel safe, but it never occurred to him that she might do the same for him. It was a strange thought, that his welfare might matter to someone, but it wasn't unwelcome. He was brought back to the uncomfortable present by a clattering of pans and a shout from the husband of

"Ay Benito! Get out of the kitchen if you're going to get in the way." The little boy ran by Erik's view again, still giggling and now significantly messier. Erik pursed his lips. He had never felt the need to carry on like that when he was a child, and he was certain that Anika would never be so bothersome and ill behaved when she grew older. "Dolce, something troubles you." The husband continued once the boy was gone.

"Of course I'm troubled, half my sauce is on the floor." He tsked.

"Forget the sauce, you have been quiet since you came home. Did something happen, when you visited your friend?" She came to stand beside him, nodding.

"I found something out about Christine, something she didn't want anyone to know."

"And of course you asked her about it." He said. It sounded as though they'd had similar conversations before. Mariella nodded.

"I think I really upset her."

"And what is this grand secret of hers?"

"I can't tell you." He chuckled.

"That's never stopped you before."

"But this time it could be really bad if someone found out." He frowned.

"Is the girl in danger?"

"No. I don't think so."

"Has this revelation made you think less of her?"

"No. Actually I'm rather impressed." A corner of Erik's mouth lifted. It was impressive that Christine spent all day with him and still managed to retain her sanity.

"Then don't tell me. Don't tell anyone. Don't even talk to her about it again if you were not supposed to know. She'll forget, eventually."

"You're right, of course." That was all very well to say, but Erik still wasn't convinced. "What are you going to do with your silly wife?"

"You aren't silly, you're too clever for your own good." She leaned in for a kiss, and Erik wished violently that he could escape. He'd always been uncomfortable with other peoples' displays of affection, having never experienced one himself. But now that kisses miraculously were part of his life, Erik was sure he and Christine never looked like that. Nothing further of interest was said that night, and Erik waited for the family to go to sleep before departing. He wasn't entirely surprised to arrive home and find Christine sitting in his bed, knees drawn up under her chin.

"What happened?" She asked the moment he came through the door. He gave her a summary of his evening as he shrugged out of his jacket. "So she won't tell. We don't need to worry anymore."

"I wouldn't stop worrying just yet." He said, moving behind his dresser to change into nightwear. "I still intend to tail her for a while and ensure she doesn't have a change of heart."

"If you think that's best." Christine didn't sound so sure.

"Will you be all right with Anika if I am gone frequently? Perhaps you could ask Angela for extra help."

"Oh I'll be fine." She said dismissively as he climbed into bed. "Most women aren't lucky enough to have a husband who works from home in the first place." His head hardly hit the pillow before she was in his arms, and any answer he'd been forming quickly fled his mind. They were silent a long moment before Christine said, "Where were you that you could hear that whole conversation anyway?"

"You know I am adept at concealing myself Christine. I assure you I was not seen."

"Yes, but where? I'm just curious."

"I believe it was a cupboard or pantry of some sort." Christine burst into giggles.

"You were in the pantry? Goodness can you imagine if she'd needed something, and opened it to find you lurking in her canned goods?"

"You find this dangerous situation funny, do you?" She nodded, failing to hide a smile and suddenly her sharp little fingers were digging into his ribs. He'd seen ballet girls tickle each other countless times, but it still took a moment for Erik to realize what was happening, and he did so with a yelp of surprise and a laugh that was entirely beyond his control. He let the madness continue for a moment before gently pinning Christine's arms above her head.

"Devious woman. We'll wake the baby." He found it very hard to sound stern just then, and wondered where his endless supply of ill humor had gone.

"Heaven forbid." She grinned, darting up to steal a kiss.

All of Erik's lost gloom was back the next day when he had to leave his warm bed and follow the nuisance of a woman once again. He'd like nothing more than to believe her promise and go on about his life, but he knew people did not often keep sensitive information to themselves when they could gain something from divulging it. However each day that Mariella seemed to spread every bit of gossip but theirs, Christine grew a little more smug, saying "I knew she wouldn't tell" when he slipped into bed at night. Once he grumbled that he'd be glad not to have to kill the woman, as she probably wouldn't stop chattering the entire time the lasso was around her neck. Christine didn't speak to him for a day after that, and made a point of visiting Mariella and making amends. As she pointed out, remaining friends with the woman could only encourage her to keep their secret, but he strongly expected she had done so at least partially to spite him. But in time even he had to admit that it seemed entirely unlikely Mariella would say anything at this point if she hadn't already, and he agreed to let the subject drop, at least for the moment.

Christine looked relieved at the news, and he noted dark stains under her eyes with concern. Caring for Anika without him had been a burden, whatever she said. He'd missed the two of them in the long days spent apart. It wasn't the soul rending absence he'd felt under the opera after Christine left, knowing he'd never see her again. It was a smaller, duller thing, a sinking feeling when he wanted to share a thought with Christine or cradle Anika close but couldn't. He and Christine had hardly seen each other while he let his paranoia run rampant.

"I'm taking you to the opera." He decided aloud.

"You're what?"

"We're going to evaluate what passes for musical talent in this city, as soon as possible. Buy a nice dress, ask Angela to take Anika for the night." She crossed her arms.

"And is that how you ask a lady to the opera?"

"My apologies." He said, extending his hand towards her, palm up. "Dearest Christine, would you please do me the great honor of accompanying me to the opera?" She placed her hand in his, saying,

"I suppose," with a coquettish smile. He brought her hand to his lips, a liberty he would not have dared a short time ago.

It should have been a simple thing, to take his wife out, but of course nothing was simple where they were concerned. Christine fretted about being apart from Anika for an entire night, and Erik constantly had to reassure her despite his own misgivings. If he trusted anyone with the baby it was Giovanni's kind, practical daughter, but what if something happened and he wasn't there to help? Christine and Erik finally managed to convince each other that they were allowed a night off, and Anika was bundled off to Angela with a mountain of supplies and a stern list of instructions written out by Erik. Then Christine had to buy tickets and wait for him in a private box because he simply refused to be visible in public so soon after the Mariella incident. He donned the mask as a precaution in case he was seen, and it was at once reassuring and more stifling than he remembered. He found a back entrance to the grand opera house in order to avoid the worst of the crowds, and the narrow staircases and dusty props were visceral, not altogether pleasant reminders of his time in Paris.

But all the fuss was worth it as he settled in to his seat next to Christine, who looked radiant in a rose colored dress with silver bows down the front. He could still scarcely believe that he was allowed to sit next to her and whisper criticisms and hear hers like any other husband (though of course their opinions were much more informed than those of the common masses), and even lean in and kiss the curve of her shoulder when the mediocre performance became too tedious.

"Do you miss it?" He asked during the intermission. He was torn between wishing it were Christine center stage singing the opera the way it was meant to sound, and being very glad that she was beside him. She gave a small sigh.

"I've not though of it much since I left. There have always been…"

"Other concerns." He supplied.

"Yes." She paused. "But seeing it now, I suppose I do miss it. Singing for an audience feels like nothing else. It's all I ever really wanted when I was younger." She looked around and smiled at him, though it was a little sad. "I never imagined myself as a wife and mother, but now that I am that seems a lot more important than a few years of-" she gestured at the stage "a rush." He nodded. "You know, I always thought you would have been on stage, in a different life." He let out a short chuckle of disbelief.

"That would have required a very different life indeed, my dear."

"No I mean it." She insisted. "There's your voice, obviously. But also the way you move and enunciate. You're a bit of a natural born performer." He peered at her, trying to decide if she was teasing him. After a moment she said, "Then again, I suppose you could have been almost anything."

"Well, as much as you didn't imagine yourself as a wife, you must believe I pictured myself as a husband and father even less. And I admit I am enjoying being wrong far too much to wish to be anything else." She grasped his hand where it rested on his knee, and leaned over to kiss him just as the orchestra started up. Yes, he most definitely preferred Christine next to him rather than under a spotlight and just out of reach.