R&R, thanks to those who have. I shake my fist at those who haven't.
Chapter 6: Little Lottie Let Her Mind Wander
"Raoul! What are you doing here?" He looked the same, if not a bit more mature. But I suppose he could say the same for her. Especially since Christine was still in her warm-up outfit from the unaccomplished ballet rehearsals.
"I could ask you the
same thing. Especially since I know who your husband is."
Years
before, when Christine had made her choice, Raoul had promised to
keep her secret.
"You promised you wouldn't bring him back."
"I did no such thing." She gazed over his long hair, now pulled back in a ponytail. He still wore his finery, but he stooped a bit, as if defeated by an unseen force. Christine pitied him.
"You did. You said you wouldn't bring him back. He might get caught here. The police still want to question him in his…murders." He sat in the chair Christine use to sit in and look into her vanity.
"He's repented of that. He attends church-"
"That is your own personal affairs. I speak only of the past. Does a murderer not deserve to be punished even though he is sorry? What would you say if someone killed your father, and got away with it if he were sorry." Raoul shook his head. "Whatever makes you happy, Christine."
Christine's fists balled in anger. How dare he?
"How dare you? What makes you an exert on my husband'smind?"
Raoul stood. "I only came back because I wanted to see…to see what was. I didn't come to argue with you. I shouldn't have come back." Christine's eyes softened.
"You have a right
to. Please, if you wish to stay, do so. Would you-" She stopped.
No, he wouldn't want to see Clarissa. The child that wouldn't
have been, had she gone with him. They'd have their own
children.
" If you please? I wanted to be alone, here. We've
said enough." He pointed at the door. Christine's shoulders
slumped. She started for the door.
She glanced back at the mirror, and saw no one there. They were alone, perhaps. She turned. Erik would understand. She went back to his side and knelt before him. He peeked down at her.
"I'm sorry, Raoul. I never wanted us to part the way we did…."
Christine?
Christine?
Christine could hear Raoul's cries as she broke free
from the kiss that held her to her angel, her phantom…her Erik.
She gasped and turned to see him coming to the gate that held the
world at bay from the Phantom's dungeon.
"What will we do?" Erik's eyes gleamed. She shook her head.
"Not like that. I love him too…He was my first love. You have to stop the madness. Or I can never go with you." She stumbled back. His face of rage passed over into shock then sorrow.
Raoul stumbled upon
the scene and frowned. He panted at the gate, hanging his soaked
arms in the grates. Why was he holding her?
"Lift the gate
Erik," Christine ordered. Erik shook his head, but Christine was
adamant. "LIFT IT!" He pulled the lever that started the
lifting mechanism. He turned from them but Christine grasped his
hand. She forced him to look at her.
"I've made my choice already, and that won't change."
She made her way down to him, her childhood sweetheart. He grasped her around the waist and eyed the phantom. "Let's go."
Christine planted her feet. "No, Raoul. You need to understand. I love him…"
"Why Christine?"
"I love him. I loved you once…" She couldn't explain it and shook her head. "It's different. You're like a brother. Erik is…different." She grasped his hand, he looked at it like it was completely foreign to him.
He reached out, tentatively, and touched her hair. He then took her in his arms, and whispered "Little Lottie." He stood abruptly and opened to door to leave, only to run into little Clarissa at the door.
She stood and gazed up at him with large eyes. She glanced past him to her Mama.
"Mama? Who is he?" Raoul's face was ashen.
"This is Monsieur De Changy, Clarissa. Introduce yourself." Christine walked behind him.
Clarissa executed a little bow and cried, "Bonsoir, monsieur."
He knelt on one knee. He took in her little ballerina dress, the shoes, and tights. Her brown eyes and curls reminded him of his Lotte. He looked back at Christine. He understood. This love was different.
"I must go, Christine. I must go on." He patted the young girl on her shoulder then moved past her. Clarissa stepped further into the room, cooing at the flowers and paintings. She turned to her Mama.
"Mama, who was that man?"
"My old friend, poppet. Let's go find Papa."
