Chapter Three
Christine had been plagued by thoughts of Erik. Her monotonous, quiet life had been irreversibly altered by their meeting. Over and over, she recalled their past, her betrayal of him, his crimes and, unfortunately, the memory of his kiss. The intensity of that brief contact had not diminished through time. She was deeply ashamed of herself for thinking of it but the memory clung to her stubbornly. In hindsight, she identified the significant tension between her and Erik as undeniably physical. Her innocence had shielded her from such knowledge before but no longer could she deny it. Her agonizing indecision must have cost Erik dearly. He had tolerated her childish whims, always treating her with deference, even as he must have wanted her.
Forcing herself to the present, she went to into her bedroom. This had always been her own designated room and she had not shared it with Raoul. Distractedly, she stood on the balcony lost in the past. Finally, she situated herself near the French doors and tried to focus on her mending, but it was no use.
She was haunted by her Phantom once again.
Bells pealed throughout the tiny village heralding the beginning of Mass. Erik had not stepped foot in a church since his youth but he would hear her voice again. Nothing could keep him from such a temptation. He stood in the vestibule on the side of the great cathedral and inhaled the incense from the altar. Shifting uncomfortably at the prospect of being in a church, he was consoled by the fact that he was relatively alone. The great pipe organ startled him momentarily as the Processional began. Erik nervously lowered his hat on his forehead as though he could disappear behind it. The shadows of the vestibule hid his cloaked form sufficiently, but it was unsettling to be here. Fleetingly, he considered leaving when the voice rose up to Heaven. Suddenly weak, he listened as Christine sang in Latin, grateful for the wall which held him up.
He had forgotten. He had completely forgotten the power her voice had over him.
Christine poured her heart into the melody. She imagined that her Phantom was lurking somewhere in the cathedral and could hear her sing for him. Certainly, she knew that Erik would probably rather be flogged than be in a church but she pretended anyway. She sang as he had taught her, in honor of him and in honor of their memories. Never before had she emptied herself into a service as she did now. He listened, she was sure of it. Inexplicably, tears came to her eyes.
Following the lengthy Mass, Christine bustled out of the church attempting to shoulder her cloak on while she walked. The day was somewhat brighter than recently but it was still cold. She had dismissed her carriage in order to walk home, all the while steadfastly denying to herself that she hoped to encounter Erik. There was no possibility of that and what would she do should she meet him? Sternly rebuking herself, she never noticed the dark shadow which followed her from the forest.
Erik did not dare to approach her with so many people milling about after Mass. He wanted to spare her any awkward explanations to neighbors. As she made her way, he discreetly trailed her until she arrived at a more isolated spot.
Going slightly ahead of her, he reached the path leading to her home and waited silently beside the lane. He heard her footsteps before he saw her and chided himself for the excitement throbbing through his veins at the prospect of talking with her again.
Christine stopped briefly to catch her breath and to stem the rising disappointment. He hadn't come - he had not heard her sing for him. Catching a movement in the corner of her eye, she looked up to find him, arms crossed, leaning gracefully against a tree watching her.
Birds sang above them but neither was aware of anything but each other. Erik remained as still as a serpent. After an eternal minute, Christine realized she was not breathing and exhaled, whispering, "Erik!"
"You sang beautifully, Christine. It is almost enough to cause me to reform my soul and begin attending regularly." he murmured wryly.
"I did not see you, Erik. Were you there?" she smiled.
"Did you think I would miss such an opportunity?" he said softly. "Your voice is the most exquisite sound I have ever heard, my dear."
His words wove a spell over them both as nothing moved or breathed. Their eyes bore into each other; the silence overflowing with taut meaning. Erik slowly moved toward Christine and lifted his hand to her cheek, brushing her face with the back of his fingers. Involuntarily, her eyes closed as she savored his closeness. What was this magic he had always had over her? She opened her eyes and caught him staring at her lips. His eyes flew up towards hers, posing a silent question. Her heart answered, "Yes!" but he reluctantly stepped gradually away.
Disappointed, Christine willed herself to breathe normally. "You flatter me, monsieur."
Placing her hand inside his arm, he began walking with her. The attraction between them was as potent as ever except for one small detail. She was aware of it now; he saw it in her eyes. Like a magnet to steel. He had to control this - there could be nothing more between them and was it not enough to walk with her, talk with her? He could not, would not risk his heart again. To love her and lose her one more time would kill him without fail.
Not knowing what to say, Christine was quiet. Gathering her courage, she asked as casually as possible, "Do you have any plans for this afternoon?" Still not trusting himself to look at her, he told her he did not and instantly regretted his words. "Then, would you care to join me for tea?" she said winningly. She knew she was putting him in an awkward position but felt no remorse.
Erik's eyes glittered as he looked at her. "Why would you want me in your home, Christine?"
She sighed, giving in. "There is so much to talk about, so much we've left unsaid. I'd much rather speak with you in the privacy of my own home than here in the woods. My servants have the day off and we would be quite alone, I assure you."
Somewhat surprised at her blunt explanation, Erik found himself saying, "As you wish."
They turned into the gate up a well-appointed lawn toward the opulent house. "Forgive me, my dear, but I daresay Phillipe did not disown his brother." Erik quipped. Laughingly, Christine shoved Erik in mock disdain. When she opened the door, he hesitated and the hunted look came back to his face. Christine waited and held our her hand. He took it in his carefully and entered the doorway. His eyes surveyed the interior noting touches of Christine everywhere. It was disconcerting to realize she had shared this home with Raoul but he reminded himself that was how he'd always known it would be. Christine allowed his perusal without making a comment, understanding it would be trying for him. Still holding his hand, she led him from the foyer down a hallway. "Now, I want to show you my favorite room." she whispered conspiratorially with an impish grin. Erik raised one eyebrow but said nothing. She led him into a library-turned- music room. In one corner, flanked by windows, was a beautiful grand piano. Almost without realizing it, Erik gravitated towards it as she had known he would.
"Raoul forbid me to own a piano but I confess I did acquire one after he passed away." she explained guiltily. Still, Erik said nothing but stared at the beautiful instrument. Christine came next to him. "I am the only person who has ever played it and it is in dreadful need of tuning. Would you mind?"
Snared now, Erik looked down at her with a slight smile. "You mischievous child! You lured me."
Christine gazed up at him, suddenly serious, and murmured "As you once lured me." Immediately, she could see the change in his eyes as the desire flared. What she once mistook for anger in him was actually passion. Her mouth went dry while she lowered her head in confusion. With a firm hand, Erik lifted her chin and forced her to look into his eyes. Forgetting his caution, he beheld her while the demons inside him begged him to kiss her. With a will of iron, he dropped his hand and moved to sit at the piano.
Christine was entranced as he began to play. His entire being was one with the music and she had quite forgotten how marvelous it was to watch him. Inevitably, he closed his eyes as his body swayed slightly. She was suddenly struck with the evident sensuality in his movements. Drawn to him, she crept closer toward the piano bench and cautiously sat on the edge. His music was captivating and she felt herself deliciously drowning in it.
Erik was aware of the precise moment she sat next to him but continued to play because it kept his hands occupied and also because he knew it pleased her. Unbeknownst to Christine, he played a song he had composed after he had become her Angel of Music. He'd never played it for her before and it seemed right to do so now. The world dwindled to the notes he produced from the piano and the two of them.
Christine had not recalled the strength and power of his music. His talent was mythical and she followed obediently where ever it led her. She prayed he would never stop; that he would just keep playing so she could stay beside him.
His song ended but the enchantment lingered around them, so much that it was almost tangible. Erik kept his eyes on his hands which were resting against the keys, knowing without a doubt, that if he looked at her now, he would take her. They sat digesting the beauty that had surrounded them both until Christine stood. "I'll get you some tea, Erik. Please continue to play. It is pleasing to hear you play again."
Erik watched her leave the room and began to play a safer melody.
Christine had been plagued by thoughts of Erik. Her monotonous, quiet life had been irreversibly altered by their meeting. Over and over, she recalled their past, her betrayal of him, his crimes and, unfortunately, the memory of his kiss. The intensity of that brief contact had not diminished through time. She was deeply ashamed of herself for thinking of it but the memory clung to her stubbornly. In hindsight, she identified the significant tension between her and Erik as undeniably physical. Her innocence had shielded her from such knowledge before but no longer could she deny it. Her agonizing indecision must have cost Erik dearly. He had tolerated her childish whims, always treating her with deference, even as he must have wanted her.
Forcing herself to the present, she went to into her bedroom. This had always been her own designated room and she had not shared it with Raoul. Distractedly, she stood on the balcony lost in the past. Finally, she situated herself near the French doors and tried to focus on her mending, but it was no use.
She was haunted by her Phantom once again.
Bells pealed throughout the tiny village heralding the beginning of Mass. Erik had not stepped foot in a church since his youth but he would hear her voice again. Nothing could keep him from such a temptation. He stood in the vestibule on the side of the great cathedral and inhaled the incense from the altar. Shifting uncomfortably at the prospect of being in a church, he was consoled by the fact that he was relatively alone. The great pipe organ startled him momentarily as the Processional began. Erik nervously lowered his hat on his forehead as though he could disappear behind it. The shadows of the vestibule hid his cloaked form sufficiently, but it was unsettling to be here. Fleetingly, he considered leaving when the voice rose up to Heaven. Suddenly weak, he listened as Christine sang in Latin, grateful for the wall which held him up.
He had forgotten. He had completely forgotten the power her voice had over him.
Christine poured her heart into the melody. She imagined that her Phantom was lurking somewhere in the cathedral and could hear her sing for him. Certainly, she knew that Erik would probably rather be flogged than be in a church but she pretended anyway. She sang as he had taught her, in honor of him and in honor of their memories. Never before had she emptied herself into a service as she did now. He listened, she was sure of it. Inexplicably, tears came to her eyes.
Following the lengthy Mass, Christine bustled out of the church attempting to shoulder her cloak on while she walked. The day was somewhat brighter than recently but it was still cold. She had dismissed her carriage in order to walk home, all the while steadfastly denying to herself that she hoped to encounter Erik. There was no possibility of that and what would she do should she meet him? Sternly rebuking herself, she never noticed the dark shadow which followed her from the forest.
Erik did not dare to approach her with so many people milling about after Mass. He wanted to spare her any awkward explanations to neighbors. As she made her way, he discreetly trailed her until she arrived at a more isolated spot.
Going slightly ahead of her, he reached the path leading to her home and waited silently beside the lane. He heard her footsteps before he saw her and chided himself for the excitement throbbing through his veins at the prospect of talking with her again.
Christine stopped briefly to catch her breath and to stem the rising disappointment. He hadn't come - he had not heard her sing for him. Catching a movement in the corner of her eye, she looked up to find him, arms crossed, leaning gracefully against a tree watching her.
Birds sang above them but neither was aware of anything but each other. Erik remained as still as a serpent. After an eternal minute, Christine realized she was not breathing and exhaled, whispering, "Erik!"
"You sang beautifully, Christine. It is almost enough to cause me to reform my soul and begin attending regularly." he murmured wryly.
"I did not see you, Erik. Were you there?" she smiled.
"Did you think I would miss such an opportunity?" he said softly. "Your voice is the most exquisite sound I have ever heard, my dear."
His words wove a spell over them both as nothing moved or breathed. Their eyes bore into each other; the silence overflowing with taut meaning. Erik slowly moved toward Christine and lifted his hand to her cheek, brushing her face with the back of his fingers. Involuntarily, her eyes closed as she savored his closeness. What was this magic he had always had over her? She opened her eyes and caught him staring at her lips. His eyes flew up towards hers, posing a silent question. Her heart answered, "Yes!" but he reluctantly stepped gradually away.
Disappointed, Christine willed herself to breathe normally. "You flatter me, monsieur."
Placing her hand inside his arm, he began walking with her. The attraction between them was as potent as ever except for one small detail. She was aware of it now; he saw it in her eyes. Like a magnet to steel. He had to control this - there could be nothing more between them and was it not enough to walk with her, talk with her? He could not, would not risk his heart again. To love her and lose her one more time would kill him without fail.
Not knowing what to say, Christine was quiet. Gathering her courage, she asked as casually as possible, "Do you have any plans for this afternoon?" Still not trusting himself to look at her, he told her he did not and instantly regretted his words. "Then, would you care to join me for tea?" she said winningly. She knew she was putting him in an awkward position but felt no remorse.
Erik's eyes glittered as he looked at her. "Why would you want me in your home, Christine?"
She sighed, giving in. "There is so much to talk about, so much we've left unsaid. I'd much rather speak with you in the privacy of my own home than here in the woods. My servants have the day off and we would be quite alone, I assure you."
Somewhat surprised at her blunt explanation, Erik found himself saying, "As you wish."
They turned into the gate up a well-appointed lawn toward the opulent house. "Forgive me, my dear, but I daresay Phillipe did not disown his brother." Erik quipped. Laughingly, Christine shoved Erik in mock disdain. When she opened the door, he hesitated and the hunted look came back to his face. Christine waited and held our her hand. He took it in his carefully and entered the doorway. His eyes surveyed the interior noting touches of Christine everywhere. It was disconcerting to realize she had shared this home with Raoul but he reminded himself that was how he'd always known it would be. Christine allowed his perusal without making a comment, understanding it would be trying for him. Still holding his hand, she led him from the foyer down a hallway. "Now, I want to show you my favorite room." she whispered conspiratorially with an impish grin. Erik raised one eyebrow but said nothing. She led him into a library-turned- music room. In one corner, flanked by windows, was a beautiful grand piano. Almost without realizing it, Erik gravitated towards it as she had known he would.
"Raoul forbid me to own a piano but I confess I did acquire one after he passed away." she explained guiltily. Still, Erik said nothing but stared at the beautiful instrument. Christine came next to him. "I am the only person who has ever played it and it is in dreadful need of tuning. Would you mind?"
Snared now, Erik looked down at her with a slight smile. "You mischievous child! You lured me."
Christine gazed up at him, suddenly serious, and murmured "As you once lured me." Immediately, she could see the change in his eyes as the desire flared. What she once mistook for anger in him was actually passion. Her mouth went dry while she lowered her head in confusion. With a firm hand, Erik lifted her chin and forced her to look into his eyes. Forgetting his caution, he beheld her while the demons inside him begged him to kiss her. With a will of iron, he dropped his hand and moved to sit at the piano.
Christine was entranced as he began to play. His entire being was one with the music and she had quite forgotten how marvelous it was to watch him. Inevitably, he closed his eyes as his body swayed slightly. She was suddenly struck with the evident sensuality in his movements. Drawn to him, she crept closer toward the piano bench and cautiously sat on the edge. His music was captivating and she felt herself deliciously drowning in it.
Erik was aware of the precise moment she sat next to him but continued to play because it kept his hands occupied and also because he knew it pleased her. Unbeknownst to Christine, he played a song he had composed after he had become her Angel of Music. He'd never played it for her before and it seemed right to do so now. The world dwindled to the notes he produced from the piano and the two of them.
Christine had not recalled the strength and power of his music. His talent was mythical and she followed obediently where ever it led her. She prayed he would never stop; that he would just keep playing so she could stay beside him.
His song ended but the enchantment lingered around them, so much that it was almost tangible. Erik kept his eyes on his hands which were resting against the keys, knowing without a doubt, that if he looked at her now, he would take her. They sat digesting the beauty that had surrounded them both until Christine stood. "I'll get you some tea, Erik. Please continue to play. It is pleasing to hear you play again."
Erik watched her leave the room and began to play a safer melody.