Chapter Twenty-one
Christine stood alone in the nightclub. The only light came from a tiny lamp on a table near the bar. The rest of the room was filled with shadows, shadows in which the mirrors gleamed.
She looked for a place to sit down. All the heavy chairs were upturned on the tables, the stool upturned on the bar.
She made her way to the piano and sat down on its bench, her form lost in the darkness.
She waited, knowing Erik would come...he would be there...she would see him soon.
As she sat there, all of Sam's words circled around her...warnings...Erik had changed...he did not want to see her...he wanted her to think him dead.
Why Erik...why...no matter what it is...no matter what has happened to you...I will always belong to you.
She heard a footstep outside and the door swung open. A man entered La Belle Reve, but she could not see him clearly.
He closed the door softly and walked to bar. In the low light, she saw him...it was Erik.
He was standing in profile, reaching for a bottle and small glass...his hands were as fine and as strong as she had remembered them as he poured a small amount of brandy.
His hair was indeed darker than it had been in Paris, but she saw no other change in him as she carefully rose from the bench, not trusting her trembling legs to support her now.
He was as handsome...no...as beautiful...as ever and she could feel the magnetic power of his presence there in that room.
He must have heard her move for he turned in the direction of the piano.
"Is that you, Sam," he asked and her heart raced at the sound of that rich, beloved voice.
It was then that she saw the stark white mask that concealed the right half of his face. The Inspector had told her the truth.
"Who's there?"
As he spoke, he reached behind him and switched on the light.
When he saw Christie standing there, one hand on the piano to keep herself from falling, the glass fell from his hand and shattered on the floor.
She held out her arms to him, needing to feel his embrace again.
But he did not come to her. His magnificent eyes were unchanged and, in those first moments, she saw a flicker of disbelief and joy turn to anguish.
And he turned away, his hand was raised to cover the mask and his head was bowed.
"Christine...Christine," he said in a broken voice, "why did come here?"