READ THIS BEFORE CONTINUING: I have rewritten this chapter. After re-reading it, I decided that it could have been written better. What can I say, I'm a perfectionist in the worst way. Hope you enjoy!
Chapter 6
One Month Later…
Erik
He had never stepped foot in a church. Ever since he was a child, he had been led to believe that there was no guiding force in his life; no divine being to whom all of creation owed its very existence to.
His mother had given up on her beliefs in any sort of god when he had been born. How could anyone blame her? What kind of righteous being could or would create a face such as his?
No…Erik preferred to take destiny into his own hands rather than leave it up to some faceless deity. Yet here he was standing in a small chapel on the outskirts of Paris, not more than a foot from a priest.
He tried not to shift around too much, but he had never been a patient man, and he did not intend on becoming one now.
As he waited, he looked around his surroundings, almost shuddering as his eyes came to lie upon the crucifix that hung mere inches above the altar. Maybe there was something to this whole religious fixation.
Erik could not remember a time when Christine had ever wavered from her beliefs. It seemed that her faith, combined with his comfort, was what had sustained her during those years after her father died. She was a devout Catholic, to say the least.
That was precisely why he was standing in this chapel. She would hear none of his protests to being married in a church, by an ordained priest. So here he was, standing at the altar of a god he had never once called upon.
He pulled his gaze away from the altar and instead fixed his eyes upon the empty pews that filled the sanctuary. Only one pew, up at the very front, had someone sitting in it. Madame Giry. Her back was straight as a board and her hands were folded neatly in her lap. Ever the lady, she waited patiently for her daughter to join her and the ceremony to begin.
She had been the only constant thing in his life. Always there, offering kind words when needed, or a tongue lashing occasionally. He chuckled at the thought of some of the things she had said to him. Although they had both changed over the years, her sharp tongue had not.
They had always held a special bond. It was hard to forget that he owed his very life to the woman. For that, he would always be grateful to her.
Antoinette looked up and met his eyes for a brief moment of understanding. He simply nodded at her, and she replied in kind, with a simple nod of her own head.
Their moment was short lived. As the age old melody began to play, Antoinette stood respectfully as her daughter slipped into the pew to stand next to her. Moments later, Christine appeared at the opening of the aisle and began the journey that would end both their sorrows.
Erik tried to keep his jaw from gaping open. She looked more radiant than he had ever seen her. It was as if her happiness was seeping out from within her for all to see. She grinned unabashedly, looking at him as if they were the only ones in the room.