Chapter 24: Forgiveness, Redemption, and Grace, Part 2
By 4:00PM the sun was unmercifully hot and the humidity sweltering. Donning her wide-brimmed woven hat upon her head, Christine downed a few large gulps of ice water from the two gallon jug before picking up the shovel and digging once more into the rather depleted mound of steaming, hot mulch. Scraaaaape scratched shovel along the pavement of the driveway. Clank plop the mulch responded as it hit the metal trailer. A repetition of scrape, clank and plop continued until the last of the mulch piled to the top of the trailer. With a grunt, Christine tossed the heavy shovel into the grass and sat on the riding mower, carefully maneuvering the small hitched trailer behind to the last flower bed at the far corner of the front yard.
Clank, scrape, plop, swish. The mulch whispered against dirt, flowers, and gloved hands as Christine knelt against the ground, spreading every last piece around the bushes and flowers. It had taken almost five full days of digging and shoveling and driving the tractor around the entire yard, back and front, for the landscaping to be completed. "This definitely went a lot faster when Dad and Nadir helped," she grunted to herself as she stood up to stretch her back. "That's the last of it," she said aloud to the tall trees as she turned to survey the fruits of her labor. It was beautiful. Day lilies, hydrangea bushes, pachysandra, and massive rhododendron bushes filled the multiple flower beds around the entire house. Stop standing still or you'll have to face your problems, Chris. Her mind screamed at her and her body jerked into motion. No stopping, keep busy. Don't think. Don't remember. Christine loaded up the scattered garden tools and shovels into the trailer and drove the mower back to the shed. No stopping, keep busy. Don't remember.
"They're keeping Erik overnight," Nadir said quietly as they drove off the hospital campus. In a large plastic bag sitting on the front seat between them was the now torn and ripped and ruined indigo gown and broken high heeled shoes. Nadir glanced over at the multiple bandages and the stitched and bruised face of Christine, now wearing a pair of scrubs given to her by one of the nurses who sewed her sutures. The only thing on her feet were the non-slip socks. Nadir cleared his throat, "I guess mostly because of the concussion, but everything seems mild. I think it's just a precaution." Silence. "Meg and Raoul decided to stay at the hospital until Erik gets settled. Meg said she'd call you tomorrow."
Christine's finger pushed the button to roll the window down all the way. The rain had stopped but thunder still rumbled and flashes of lightning still lit the late night sky, debris littered the streets and sidewalks after the severe storms. Flooding on some side streets. Lots of damage left in the storm's wake. How fitting, Christine scoffed to herself as she rested her head on her arm, feeling the wind hit her skin, blowing her hair in small, chaotic twists. Nadir slowly pulled up to the curb outside of Christine's apartment. She looked up at the darkened building. "I can stay, Christine, or we can turn around and you can sleep at my apartment," Nadir offered.
"No," her voice hoarse and tired.
"No to me staying or no to coming home?"
"Both." She glanced at Nadir who stared at his folded hands in his lap. "I'm ok. I think… I need some time."
"Ok, if you're sure?"
"I'm sure."
Nadir helped Christine up the wet brick steps and unlocked the door. Turning on the small foyer light, the room filled with a gentle yellow glow. "Do you need anything?" Nadir asked as Christine placed her destroyed gown on the floor.
"I just need to go to bed."
Nadir nodded and tucked Christine into bed. Her eyes grew heavy as he placed a kiss upon her forehead. "I love you so much, Christine. I'll come by first thing tomorrow, ok?" She nodded and closed her eyes.
# # #
She startled awake as a loud crack of thunder shook the windows. Mother Nature threatened to unleash fury again upon the earth, but ironically, like Christine, the raindrops of tears refused to come. Only the ominous sounds of anger rumbled deep within. Christine laid completely still, staring at the blank white ceiling, watching the ceiling fan whirl in its persistent unyielding circle. A bright flash followed by an immediate crack of thunder again rattled the windows. Her body ached, her head throbbed and her ankles cracked as she shuffled out of bed and stretched. Everything hurt, even the slightest touch to the skin was splintering. She walked down the short hallway to the living room and stood to take in the uncomfortable heavy silence. Lightning again, but this time it illuminated a framed picture of her and Erik. She sighed.
Christine went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. The light was blinding as she stood and stared. She hadn't gone grocery shopping in forever; it was completely empty except for a half-empty container of milk, some creamer, some lunchmeat, a few condiments, and an old leftover pizza she and Erik shared a few nights ago. She took everything out and put it all on the counter. She opened the freezer - empty except for the ice cube trays. She opened the cabinet underneath the sink and began moving the refrigerator items to a garbage bag. The last of the milk and creamer splashed into the sink and circled down the drain. Into the trash bag they went.
She looked around the living room. There really wasn't much hanging on the walls. One painting, one framed poster, a few pictures. Down they came into a pile on the couch. She gathered all the sheet music and music books and shoved them into an overstuffed folder. Christine went to her bedroom and pulled out two large rolling suitcases and Gustav's old duffle bag from his Army days. Eventually, all her clothes, toiletries, towels, shoes, and knick knack items were packed away and placed next to the growing pile of belongings in the living room. She slid on her sneakers, grabbed the keys to Frankenbeast and gingerly limped down the sidewalk towards the campus.
The parking garage was a beacon in the dark, damp night with its lights brightly shining behind the music building. Her body shook seeing discarded police caution tape. She stood for a long time staring at the washed off remnants of blood stains on the concrete landing at level three. Bile threatened to bubble up from her stomach, but somehow she willed it away as she turned to where the truck had remained. It roared to life, and the clanking of the muffler echoed too loudly as she drove out of the garage. She kept the truck running as she dragged the trash can from the side of the apartment to the sidewalk. One by one, step by step, she loaded her belongings into the truck.
Christine had reached the house in the woods as the sun began to peak over the horizon and welcome a new day. With the truck parked in the garage, doors to the house locked, blinds and curtains pulled closed over the windows, Christine collapsed onto her bed and wept until she exhausted herself to sleep.
Christine backed the small trailer up the short ramp into the shed and pushed it vertical to lean against the wall. As she emerged from the shed to back in the riding mower, a blinding glare at the end of the driveway caught her attention. She bit her lower lip as she watched Nadir's car pull in slowly. Taking her gardening gloves off and turning the mower off, she took a few steps forward, a faint smile on her face. She stopped dead in her tracks as she watched a very familiar young man emerge from the passenger side of the car. A knot immediately clogged her throat and gasped as Jeremy wrapped his arms around her tight. "Oh my God," she sobbed in his arms, "what are you doing here?!" She hugged him so incredibly hard.
"Hey girl," Jeremy whispered back. He stepped back from the embrace to take in the sight of his friend. She looked different. Older. Tired. Empty. Then he saw it. "What'd you do to your hair?"
Christine pulled off the hat and Nadir's mouth fell open. "You cut your hair! It looks…"
"Terrible?"
"No, not at all, no. It looks good; just different," Nadir added. Christine's normally waist-long brown curls were now lopped off and just barely fell below her shoulders. Her skin was tinted bright pink with sunburn on her bare shoulders and arms. The rest of her was sunkissed and a few shades darker from the time she had spent under the blazing summer sun. The furious pace in manual labor gave her more defined features of toned muscle. She seemed healthy on the outside. But both Nadir and Jeremy could see the war raging behind her darkened eyes, which Nadir knew the glow had dulled and faded the night of the attack. "Come here and give this old geezer a hug," Nadir said as Christine wrapped her arms around her godfather. "I've missed you so much."
"I know," she sighed.
"I've been worried about you," Nadir said, gently holding Christine's face in his hands. He placed a kiss on her forehead.
"I know," she said, feeling the pangs of guilt for keeping everyone she loved at arm's length for the past two months. It's better that way. Keeps them safe since I bring nothing but pain to those I love. Her body froze as the feelings and thoughts she had been stuffing away and running from came bubbling up like a geyser. Stop remembering! Survival mode kicked in, "Gosh I'm a sweaty mess . I was going to order some Chinese food for dinner if you and Jeremy want to head into town to pick it up, and I'll get cleaned up."
Nadir and Jeremy conceded and got back in the car as they watched Christine put everything back in the tool shed and headed back inside the house. "She's running on fumes, nothing but survival mode for her right now. I think this might get heated tonight," Jeremy reluctantly observed.
"It must be done."
# # #
"I don't think any of this is fair," Christine scoffed.
"And you think it was fair to up and leave without saying a word to anyone about where you were going?" Nadir retorted. "You didn't respond to anyone for nearly three days." Once again Christine wrestled with the pangs of crushing guilt. Deep down she knew Nadir was right, of course he was. But she had been so good at running, she'd been running since Gustav died. Emotionally and spiritually she was positively spent. But running had become such a constant survival mode so she didn't have to face whatever this feeling really was. "I knew you were here, but it's the fact that we couldn't reach you. Erik was worried sick. You didn't even bother finding out what he was going through. He needed you, and you needed him. You needed all of us, both of you."
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"It's been a long day. I think it best we all get some rest and perhaps continue the conversation when minds and bodies and spirits are refreshed," suggested Jeremy. The conversation was turning more into a prosecution. He knew Nadir wanted nothing more than simple answers, and no matter which angle he approached his line of questioning, it was getting them nowhere.
# # #
Christine couldn't sleep. Her mind churned over the memories of Arizona, of Jeremy and their growing friendship, of Western Cypress, of Gustav's death and funeral, of Kevin, of Meg and Raoul… of Erik. Remembering his touches and caresses as they would snuggle and cuddle together, the way he held her, the way he kissed her, the way he sang to her, the way he brought music back to her life. The recital, the warmth of the stage lights, the sounds of Erik's symphony, his voice saying "I love you." The slamming of the stairwell door and thunderous steps, growls and curses rupturing from Kevin's chest. "God, will this every STOP," she huffed out annoyed to herself. It was close to two in the morning, according to the nightstand clock that refused to sleep just like Christine.
Grabbing a glass of water from the kitchen, Christine walked out to the back deck and sat down in one of the adirondack chairs and listened to the rustling leaves. She glanced up at the night sky. Even the moon and the stars reminded her of Erik. She could never escape the thoughts of him. Oh how she missed him. Footsteps startled her as she looked up to see Jeremy walking towards her. "This seat taken?" Christine motioned to Jeremy to sit. "Can't sleep either, huh?"
"I usually don't. Haven't slept restful the past two months," she confessed. She offered Jeremy her cup to take a drink. "So… are you here to offer typical platitudes and Bible verses from Romans and Philippians to help me get over this?"
"No."
"'Just pray and read your Bible and have faith'," Christine mocked advice.
"No."
"Then why are you here? What do you want to say?"
"I'm not here to say anything, Christine. I'm here to be still and to listen."
The minutes ticked by in silence before Christine heaved a sigh and looked at Jeremy. "Alright…"
# # #
"You can't keep running away," Jeremy said after a long moment of silence. Christine hadn't been able to shed one tear since that night. Tonight, the dam threatened to break.
"But I've gotten so good at it," she whispered, almost wanting to laugh at the absurdity of it all.
"I think if you actually sat down and thought about it, anger hasn't been your constant companion. It's your grief. And grief, Christine, makes an absolutely terrible companion. It's going to destroy you and everyone you love. It almost destroyed Erik until…" Jeremy stopped suddenly.
"What did you say? You said his name… how do you know?"
"I met him, Christine, just yesterday. He told me and Nadir everything. And," this was going to hurt but she needed to know, "he loves you more than you can possibly know. He wanted me to give you this." Jeremy reached into his shorts pocket and pulled out the letter in a sealed envelope Erik had written the night before. With shaking hands, she held it with reverence. "He's a good man, Christine."
"I know." Another heavy silence. "Where is he? Is he ok?"
"Granting forgiveness, seeking redemption, and finding grace," Jeremy replied, "Just like you need to. Don't forget whose child you are. Remember, Christine, Jesus knows your grief, He knows your pain, He wept. Turn to Him." He got up and held her hand. "Good night, Christine."
# # #
The morning song of birds woke Christine as the blue and purple hazy colors of dawn birthed a new day. The sliding of paper rustled beside her. There laying next to her in the bed was the unopened envelope with Erik's handwriting. Without much sound, Christine dressed in a pair of leggings, a tank top and her favorite oversized sweatshirt that belonged to Gustav. She shoved the envelope into the sweatshirt's front pocket and headed into the kitchen. Jeremy and Nadir were still asleep. Scratching a note and laying it on the counter, Christine walked outside to the backyard, entered the shed, and wheeled out her bike.
Early morning fog blanketed the fields and woods along the long, winding road. She pedaled harder as the bike began climbing up the steep hill, her lungs burning as she sped along. Finally she reached the crest of the hill and stopped at the end of the road. There sitting before her on top of another hill surrounded by rolling fields of corn sat the church. She sighed heavily and began her trek.
Upon reaching the church, Christine dismounted her bike and wheeled it through the paved walkways that wound around the cemetery behind the church. It was perched atop the hill which overlooked miles and miles of lush green woods, the church's softball field and the outdoor grove and pavilion. The ancient tombs of fallen Revolutionary and Civil Wars soldiers lay below, a testament to the holy patriotism of her small town's war heroes. Finally she reached the spot in the far corner of the cemetery: two small headstones, side by side, shielded from the rising summer sun by the shadows of the towering cornstalks. Gustave Daae, 1948-2003, devoted husband, loving father, Vietnam Veteran, US Navy. Marie Clare Daae, 1950-1984, devoted wife, loving mother. "Hi Mom, hi Dad," Christine whispered as she sat upon the dewed grass. "It's been a long time," plucking up a few overgrown weeds around the headstones. The sealed envelope crinkled in her pocket as she pulled it out. "I don't know if I can read this but," she sighed, "I think he wrote this for all three of us." She thumbed the sealed flap and pulled out the letter, and she began to read it aloud.
# # #
And so, Christine, this I share with you in hopes that you will understand that I know what it's like to WANT to take the life of someone who has done unspeakable damage. Nadir holds the belief that I did not kill this man when I was still living with Mother. And I've never told a soul about that night except for Raoul, who was sworn to secrecy all these years. But I tell you this in hopes that you will forgive me for not telling you the full truth. Christine, my beloved, please forgive me.
He had bared his life and his soul to her completely, and she had just shared this with her parents. She wept uncontrollably, her tears dropping onto the paper and smudging Erik's written words.
I have loved you since the moment I heard you sing. I have loved you every day since. And I will continue to love you for the rest of my days on this Earth. Whatever you decide, I will always be here for you and with you, no matter what. My hope for you, Christine, is that you are able to find grace and peace. All my love for you, always and forever, Erik.
The sounds of footsteps behind Christine had her glancing over her shoulder. Without a sound, Nadir and Jeremy came to sit beside her, their arms coming around to hold her tightly. "Oh God," she huffed out through her choking sobs, "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry. Oh Nadir, I'm so sorry…"
After all this time, somehow he still remembered how to navigate the ridiculously complex dirt roads through the trailer park. Some things had changed, minor improvements, but everything else remained untouched, unimproved, dismantled, torn apart, run down. He felt sick as he pulled up to his childhood abode, the knot in his throat and stomach threatening to spill whatever contents of his stomach out onto the loose gravel. He swallowed hard as he brought a hand up and knocked on the lightweight door.
A hacking cough sounded from behind the thin trailer door as the locks disengaged. "Yes?" said a raspy voice as a shriveled woman opened the door. "My God…" her mouth fell open.
"Hello, Mother," Erik replied stoically.
# # #
She sat in silence on the sunken, worn out couch as Erik evenly spoke to her in limited detail where his life had taken him. "Well I hope she's a nice girl," she responded with not much feeling.
"She is, Madeleine. And I will be asking for her hand in marriage."
"Don't suppose you need anything from me?" Madeleine grunted out a sad scoff.
"No, Madeleine. I neither need or want anything from you or of you," Erik said evenly. "And I came here for nothing except to tell you that I forgive you. I forgive you for the hell you brought upon me which tainted my childhood. I have a family now which I know I deserve; people who love me unconditionally. I forgive you, Mother." And with that, Erik got up, walked out to his car, backed out of the carport, and pulled away, not once glancing back.
For the duration of the three hour drive back to Western Cypress, Erik drove in complete silence. It was over. He confronted his mother and granted forgiveness. He found redemption and forgiveness of his own. As he prayed, he felt lighter, the burdens of his past and on his heart and soul lifted, the load he carried no longer heavy. It was indeed the start of a new beginning. And he knew exactly what he wanted. It would certainly take some planning, but with help from Meg and Raoul, it could be done perfectly. And for what seemed like the first time in months, Erik smiled.
August 2006, Sea Isle City, NJ
"Hello, Mr. Destler! I trust everything is fine with your room?" the receptionist asked as Erik approached the concierge.
"Yes, it's perfect, thank you. I was hoping the hotel could assist me with something. Has Christine Daae checked in yet?"
"Of course, let's take a look." A few taps of the keyboard. "Not yet, sir, but her reservation is confirmed. What can we help you with?"
Erik smiled shyly. This has to work.
# # #
"Good afternoon! Welcome to The Reeds at Shelter Haven! Can I help you?" the tanned blonde behind the concierge counter greeted Christine.
"Yes, hi, Christine Daae checking in. I'm a guest for the Giry/de Chagny wedding."
"Ah, yes perfect," she responded. The keyboard clicked and clacked, two plastic room keys were scanned. "Here we go, room 506. Elevators are behind you on the left. Enjoy your stay with us!"
"Thank you," Christine smiled and wheeled her suitcase behind to the elevators. The elevator doors dinged open. Once to the fifth floor, the elevator dinged open once again and Christine made her way down the hallway to her room. She swiped her room key to release the lock. Pushing the door open, a sweet fragrance filled her senses. Her breath drew back as she walked in to find her room filled with at least three dozen long-stemmed red roses in crystal vases. She held her breath as she looked at the familiar handwriting on the card in one of the vases. She removed the card and proceeded to open the sliding door to the balcony. Her room overlooked the white sandy beach below. The waves crashed lightly as the beautiful pastel hues from the sunset began to paint the sky. She read:
Dear Christine,
I trust you arrived safely. I made reservations at Madigan's for 8:00PM in hopes that you would join me for dinner. A driver will come to pick you up at 7:30PM from the hotel. I took the liberty of having something special delivered to your room, which you will find in the closet.
I hope to see you this evening.
Yours always,
Erik
# # #
Erik sat nervously at the table in the corner, tapping his shaking fingers upon the crisp, white linen tablecloth. He glanced at his watch: 7:45. His phone vibrated from an incoming text from Raoul. Anything yet?
No. Still not here.
She'll be there.
He fidgeted with the silverware and napkins. He stared at the candle flickering in the middle of the table. The small jazz trio on the stage was quietly playing some tune he couldn't quite pay attention to. He glanced at his watch again: 8:03. She's not coming, he thought to himself.
"Right this way, miss," the waiter said. A few more steps, don't fall, Chris she muttered to herself. "Pardon me, Mr. Destler, your other party has arrived. Please have a seat ma'am. Can I start you off with something to drink?"
Erik stood slowly, his impeccably tailored suit cut him a dashing figure. He looked pristine, professional, and… charming, handsome… and, Christine had to swallow hard, God he looked sexy. Oh and his smile, his ever-so-perfect smile with a hint of sarcastic smugness she had loved. "Christine," he reverently whispered her name as he placed a small kiss upon her cheek, "I'm so glad you've come."
He pulled out her chair and she sat. Her perfume infiltrated his senses, her bare shoulders sunkissed with color from the summer sun, and her hair… "Oh my goodness, you've cut your hair," Erik said surprised.
Christine chuckled nervously. "Yes, I did." An awkward silence as Erik sat down across from here.
"Ma'am, can I start you off with a drink?" the waiter asked rather annoyedly.
"Yes, sorry, um, lemon water, please. Thank you," Christine quickly replied, offering a small smile.
Christine glanced at Erik's face, feeling suddenly nervous and her mouth dry. The awkward silence mounted.
The very thought of you
I forget to do
Those little ordinary things
That everyone ought to do
The pianist began to sing the opening stanzas. "Christine?" Erik swallowed hard.
"Yes?"
"You're more beautifully stunning than ever before." His hand fidgeted nervously in his jacket pocket, holding tightly to the familiar small, square box that had come into his ownership just a few weeks ago, bestowed and gifted to him by the man who had called him son. "Dance with me…"