Erik spent the next two days at the build site from sunup until hours past sundown. He was driven to ensure that the initial foundation laying for the building was perfect. In addition to the usual frustrations at the start of any project, he was fighting the weather. The men were alternately sweating under the hotter-than-usual May sun or soaking in the rain storms that came up unexpectedly. Still, he refused to let the weather put him off schedule, and his workmen felt exactly the same way.
Some of the crew had been working with him since the early days of rebuilding after the earthquake. Others joined as the company grew. All of them were as dedicated to the job as their boss. Erik was a hard taskmaster, but he never demanded more from his workers than he was willing to give himself. He often worked side-by-side with his men and made sure they were well treated. It wasn't unusual for 'the boss' to send a sick worker home and order him to stay home with full pay, or send an expensive doctor to look in on a worker's sick child. He lectured when one of his workers did something foolish or wrong, and he listened with an open mind when they came to him with their troubles. He was a fair man who respected his employees and they treated him with the same respect.
He'd given his workers a half-day off on Saturday, mostly to give himself time to prepare for the banquet that evening. Lillian's loss was still fresh and tearing at his heart. The last thing he wanted to do was put on formalwear and attend a party. Two and a half days of working outdoors when hot sun alternated with driving rain wore his nerves down to raw edges.
He'd felt unusually tired all day, but still forced himself to work beside his men in the morning, and chalked it up to the warm wet weather. He'd also been fighting a headache since the night before. All he really wanted to do was curl up with a good book and be left alone. Still, he'd agreed to go to the celebration because she wanted him there.
The grand ballroom in the hotel looked very much as it did three years earlier when Lillian Featherstone reentered his life. That night was a fundraising event for the Danby Foundation's newest hospital. This night was meant to be a celebration for the start of that hospital's construction and for the woman who made it possible.
Erik looked across the crowded ballroom and then down at the glass Nasir nudged against his hand. "This isn't water."
"I thought this evening would be hard for you, and you might appreciate something a little stronger."
Erik bit down on the urge to push the drink back at Nasir. He knew his friend was only thinking of his welfare. "I appreciate the thought, but water will do fine. The last thing I need is for alcohol to make me maudlin in this crowd." He took the glass and set it down on a nearby table.
Nasir nodded, giving Erik a critical look. He knew the last few days were difficult for his friend. He didn't say anything, but he'd heard the violin playing three nights earlier and feared it was a portent of something bad. When he heard Erik leaving the loft the following morning, he stopped his friend on the stairs.
.
'What do you want, Nasir?" Erik tried pushing past the man. "I'm late for work."
"How can you be late when it's barely past dawn?" One look at Erik's eyes told him something had happened. He hadn't seen such a look of devastation since the day Erik crawled out of the Paris sewers ten years before. "Please, my friend, I know something is wrong. A burden shared is a burden halved."
Erik looked at Nasir, considering his actions. His first instinct was to lash out and run. He wanted to be left alone, but he knew that wouldn't happen. So he pulled in a shaky breath and spoke quietly. "Lillian's dead."
"Oh, Erik, no. I am so sorry. What happened?"
"Sholokhov came to the office yesterday and told me. She'd had cancer for the last few years." He shook his head slowly. "I didn't know."
"That's understandable, you had no contact with her since she left after the earthquake."
"I should have reached out. I should have done something." Erik's voice rose with anger at his helplessness.
Nasir looked deeply into his friends eyes, grasping the thin shoulders. "And what could you have done? I know you were a master magician, but even you could not have magicked away cancer."
Erik opened his mouth to retort, then shut it again and blinked away tears. "I know. You're right, Nasir. There was nothing I could have done. Nothing anyone could have done. I just…."
"I understand." Nasir sat on the stair, gesturing for Erik to join him and waiting until he had. "When Bahar died, I felt exactly as you do now. I was angry and sad. I blamed Allah and I blamed myself for not being with her." He placed a solid hand on Erik's knee. "I thought 'if only I'd been there' but it wouldn't have mattered. She and the babe would have died anyway."
Erik nodded. "I know all this. I was there, remember?"
"Yes. I also remember thinking how grateful I was that she didn't have to endure alone. That you, my friend, were there with her. And that gave me comfort."
"I understand what you're saying." Erik stopped fighting the tears and let them fall for a moment. "Thank you. Lillian wasn't alone. Sholokhov said her family was with her." He sniffed, then pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, offering it to Nasir. "She had him deliver this to me."
Nasir looked at the paper, crumpled and tear stained and pushed Erik's hand away.. "Those words were for you alone, Erik. You do not have to share them. I only met the lady once, but I know she cared deeply for you.
"Whatever she wrote, take her words to heart. Whatever she asked of you, do it. That's the best way to honor her memory."
"Yes. You're right, old friend." Erik wiped his face and stood. "Thank you. How is it you always know what to say?"
Nasir quirked a grin. "We've been together so long, it's almost like we're married." He stifled a laugh seeing Erik roll his eyes as he tucked the paper back into his pocket. "I know you, perhaps even better than you know yourself.
"Trust her. Believe her. Honor her life by doing that and you'll become the man she knows you can be. The same man I've always seen beneath the mask. It just remains for you to see him, too."
"You've given me much to think about." Erik pulled out his watch, checking the time. "I've got to get to the office and pull some papers for the job today. We're starting on the Foundation's hospital and I want to make sure everything's perfect." He moved down the stairs on his way to the ground floor.
"Of course. You wouldn't be you if you didn't." Nasir also rose, following down the stairs until reaching his third floor apartment. "Be sure to drink enough water and be careful of the sun. Take a raincoat and umbrella, rain is forecast for the next several days. And make sure you eat."
Erik looked back up at his friend. "Now I hear it."
"Hear what?"
"You do sound like a wife." He laughed softly and continued out. "I'll see you later. Don't worry about me."
"Don't worry," Nasir muttered raising his eyes toward the sky. "Allah, why have you tasked me with this impossible man?"
.
"Please stop hovering, Nasir." Erik wasn't feeling well, and hoped to distract his friend from looking too closely at him. "Your lady friend is starting to look annoyed and I do not want her to direct her wrath at me."
The invitation delivered by Sholokhov and addressed to Nasir included an invitation for himself and a guest. The Persian wasted no time in inviting Mrs. Purdue.
"Ah yes, the lady." Nasir straightened his formal tie as he watched her coming towards them. "She does look lovely, does she not?"
"She does, " Erik agreed. Ever since the opening of the Imperalis' boarding house, Nasir had been keeping company with the widow. The woman in question walked over to them, a glass of champagne fizzing in her hand.
"This is a wonderful party. Thank you so much for inviting me." She smiled at both men, although Erik noticed her glance lingered longer on Nasir before turning her attention back to him. "Mr. Dantes, congratulations on your design being chosen for the hospital. I think it's wonderful."
"Thank you, Mrs. Purdue." Her direct stare made him feel a bit uncomfortable. He raised a hand towards his face, feeling a bead of sweat roll down under his mask. "Is something amiss?"
"Oh no, not at all." She smiled and gave a nervous laugh. "I hope you will not think me too forward Mr. Dantes, but is it the champagne or does your mask look different tonight?"
"Yes, Erik," Nasir joined in. "I noticed that, too. Is this perhaps a new design?"
"I didn't think anyone would notice, but yes." Ever since coming to America he'd worked on refining the masks he wore and making them more comfortable to wear for long periods of time in a warmer climate. Since he spent so much time out of doors with his building crews, he needed something lighter that would give his skin more breathability.
The leather of this mask was thinner than previous versions with a softer sculpt. It was still white, but less reflective than the one he usually wore. He wasn't sure about wearing it this evening, but he felt the situation would be good for a test. He knew the venue would be warm and crowded. If he could wear it comfortably for several hours, then he would work on adapting the locking mechanism on the mask he usually wore to this new design.
The electric sconces along the walls flashed in a signal that the program was about to begin and they moved towards their assigned table. Unlike the last Danby Foundation event they'd attended, their assigned table was placed prominently just below the head table in the center of the room.
Not liking to find himself in the middle of the attention, Erik had surreptitiously switched their place cards with some on another table set off to the side near a wall. The act only caused momentary confusion and the people with whom he'd switched were delighted to find themselves with a much better view of events.
As they settled into their seats, Erik felt Nasir's eyes on him. "What now, Nasir?" he whispered.
"You do not look well, Erik." He reached out to check for fever, but Erik dodged his hand.
"Stop that! It's nothing, just a headache. I think too much time working outside the past few days and then this damnably hot room." He picked up a water goblet from the table and drank deeply, hoping to soothe the fire in his throat. "I'm fine, I just wish this was over so I could go home and sleep."
Nasir nodded, he knew Erik had overworked himself at the building site, but he also knew there was nothing he could have done to stop it. "Very well, we can leave as soon as the entertainment is over." The invitations also mentioned a private reception following the evening's entertainment, but he had a feeling Erik wanted nothing to do with that so he hadn't mentioned it to his lady friend. "Marian and I will drop you off at the club before I take her home."
Erik nodded in agreement. "Thank you. That will be fine." All he had to do was get through the meal and hope the entertainment didn't last too long. Then he could be free.
Mercifully, the opening speeches were kept to a minimum and the dinner was edible. Erik knew Nasir was watching him so he forced himself to eat and occasionally smile at the other diners around him. Gods, would this evening never end? His head was pounding, his throat was raw, he was alternately sweating and shivering, and he ached from head to toe.
Just as Benjamin Sholokhov rose to the podium to begin to speak, a clap of thunder rolled over the room. Sholokhov flinched, then laughed nervously. "I think someone is trying to tell us to move along." He waited as people laughed and applauded lightly, then continued.
"Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen, I am Mr. Benjamin Sholokhov, physician and surgeon and Medical Director of the Danby Foundation's newest hospital here in San Francisco. As you know, the Foundation was the dream of Baroness Lillian Featherstone and it was her work and unending perseverance to the cause of helping children that brings us here tonight."
A portrait of Lillian was unveiled and Erik found his eyes welling. Nasir touched his arm and bent toward him to whisper. "It's a lovely portrait isn't it?" Erik could only nod, his eyes locked on the painting.
"As you know, Lillian has sadly left us," Sholokhov continued. "But she was involved in planning this banquet and the last thing she wanted was endless mind-numbing speeches—her exact words, by the way. Instead she wanted to give all of you a gift to help remember her by." He paused as a curtain opened behind the head table and a grand piano was revealed on a raised stage.
Another clap of thunder filled the room and people eyed each other nervously. They knew how ferocious the storms could sometimes be.
"All right, Lillian, I'll get on with it." Sholokhov laughed, glancing upwards and then turning back to the crowd. "Now it is my great pleasure to introduce to you, in a special recital, the world-renowned soprano, Miss Christine Daaé."
Erik flinched in his seat. No. Gods above, no. Not her. Nasir's hand came down on his arm, forcing him to remain in his seat. He looked at Nasir, trying to pull away without creating a scene.
The Persian shook his head, his hand firmly locked on Erik's arm, and leaned in. "Lillian arranged this. She must have had a good reason. You owe it to her to stay."
Applause filled the room, competing in volume with the thunder outside. The room lights dimmed down and the stage was brilliantly lit as a beautiful woman entered and stood in the bow of the piano.
"Thank you," she said blinking in the bright lights, "for everything you have done to make Lillian's dream a reality. I was blessed to meet Lillian and become her friend during the last months of her life. I am here tonight to honor that friendship the best way I can. I sincerely hope you will all enjoy my gift to my friend."
Christine sang for the next forty-five minutes. She began with The Jewel Song from Faust which had become one of her signature pieces, then she followed with arias from popular French operas and a small selection of songs by Franz Schubert. She finished the recital with Violetta's Sempre Libera aria from La Traviata, a selection which had the audience rising to their feet and cheering.
During the applause, Christine acknowledged the local tenor who'd sung Alfredo's few lines. He'd done a fine job, yet all the while during the song, she'd heard a different man's voice in her head. Why him? Why now she wondered, bowing automatically. Then she held up her hands to stop the applause and walked to the front of the stage.
Erik watched her from the shadows at the side of the room, barely daring to breathe. Finally, he felt Nasir release the grip upon his arm and he pushed back, gathering himself to stand and leave quietly. He felt sick, the room was too hot and his head was pounding.
He'd been asked by Sholokhov to attend a small private reception immediately following the close of the recital, but he had no wish to go, especially not now. He didn't want to see her there and have to stand politely by while he watched her being lauded once again. And he certainly didn't want her to see him.
"I've got to go," he whispered to Nasir.
"Wait just one more moment, she's going to say something."
"I don't care." He started to move and the Persian's hand locked once more on his arm, trapping him in place.
Christine waited until the audience seated themselves and were quiet once more. "Thank you. This concludes the evening's planned festivities, but before you go, I have one final selection for tonight's recital. It's not something I normally include in my concerts, but this was a special request by a woman who had become my dearest friend."
She moved back to the piano once more, then looked up and whispered. "For you Lillian, rest in peace." Nodding to the accompanist she clasped her hands and began.
Erik sat stricken as she sang the Ave Maria. The same Ave Maria he'd sung for Lillian in the damaged church three years earlier. As the last pure note of Christine's voice floated over the room, his heart shattered and he could sit no longer.
"Let me go." He pulled against Nasir's hold. It was too much—Lillian gone, Christine returned. The memories were crushing him. The lights were too bright. The crowd was suffocating. The room dimmed and spun before his eyes. He wiped his free hand over his face, looking around the room wide-eyed. "Where are we? Let me go. I have to get back."
"Get back where, Erik?" Nasir asked, slowly releasing his hold on Erik's arm.
"The opera house." He locked eyes with the Persian. "Can't let them find me here." Before Nasir could stop him, he bolted from the room and ran out into the storm.