The Psychotic One- Thank you for your indepth review, it was really nice. I'm confused as to which chapter you were talking about, so I may go back and re-edit it, chapter twenty seven or six?
asingledarkcrimsonrose - HA! you have NO idea, the whole scarydad-Erik-thing is what the entire last half of the book is about, though its understandable, and very complicated, and he has a right to worry.
LotRseer3350- Erik will do nothing, he's too into Danielle to give a damn about Raoul. Christine's voice? Well, Erik has always been, a little delusional, and maybe like Raoul a part of him snapped.
I Despise Raoul- Canada day is Canada's Birthday. It's the first of July, it's kinda like the Canadian version of Independance day, with the barbeque's and fairs and fireworks and stuff.
KieraLee- Yes! thankyou for being the only person to mention they noticed that Claude is soon to be Meg's husband!
Chapter Twenty-Seven: These dreams
She's been taking lessons
from a great teacher
The voice and organ rose as one, until it reached a tremendous crescendo and then fell until it was a whisper. He would have played on just to listen to her soft, smooth voice that soothed his very being, but there were no more notes left on the page to be played. Erik let out an exasperated sigh while raking his hair with his fingers. Such beauty in purest sound always made him want to weep.
"You did excellently Danielle." He said finding his voice, and finally looking over to her. She sheepishly smiled at him, and tucked her chin in to her chest, letting her curly hair fall into her eyes.
Her smile lit his heart on fire.
"Thank you Erik," The five year old said and came over to the bench where he was sitting.
"I have never heard such a beautiful rendition of 'Twinkle, Twinkle little star.'" He said as she opened her small arms in a gesture that she wanted to be picked up.
He hesitated for a moment, as he always did, then took her small body into his arms and sat her right beside him on the organ stool. He was always shocked that the child loved him so unconditionally; with such devotion he could never accept. She doesn't understand, he always thought. It is one thing to love her, but me? She does not know me; she could not ever truly love me.
"One day I shall learn to play this." Danielle said quietly in awe at the majestic instrument in front of her.
He was bemused at her proper manner of speech. Her brain is developing faster than her body, mind you, she does live with you, he thought.
"Your lessons are done for the day." He murmured into her hair, as he brushed one of the brown curls out of his face.
He loved the feeling of silk running through his long, old fingers. It was one of his many pleasures, it was quite pleasant to be able to just touch someone without them flinching away.
"All of them? Mathematics, and writing, and singing?" She asked not really paying attention to what he was telling her, she was already running her porcelain fingers along the worn keys.
"All of them little Angel, I cannot really judge your writing, mine has never been sufficient to read. Your singing is excellent and by doing 'twinkle twinkle' you're starting to sound more proficient in English, soon we'll take up Swedish and Latin. As for your mathematics... what is 4+3 equal to?"
"Seven... and 4-3 is 1 and 7+1 is 8... I know my simple addition Erik." She said looking up at him with striking green eyes.
Over the years, her eyes and turned the shade of an emerald green; unlike the previous color they had held resembling sapphires. Sapphires, like Christine's eyes that he had yearned for so much. That was the only trait of her father's that she processed, and if he didn't look to closely he could pretend that she really was his daughter. If he could pretend Danielle was his, sometimes he could imagine that Christine did not die as tragically as he dreamt every night when sleep finally overtook him at last.
And yet, every time the little one looked at him with such love, and adoration, his heart spilt in two. In those moments when she looked at him, he knew he was not her father, not anyone particularly special, just her caretaker.
"So I may go read?" She asked with excitement.
"Have I ever stopped you?" He asked with a smirk.
Smiling as only she could do, she kissed his unmasked cheek and ran into the den area where all the books were stacked on shelves.
Letting out a shaky sigh Erik realized he needed time to recuperate. Such devotion could kill someone, he thought. Such love, and beauty is dangerous to your health old man.
A typhoon of memories stormed around him, catching him off-guard and all so suddenly.
"Erik… Erik I love you..." Christine whispered in her sleep.
"Oh my angel, what are we to do?" she asked, snuggling closer against his body which spooned hers.
"I do not know my Christine." He cooed softly in her ear. He felt the brush of her curls against the exposed side of his face.
"What is wrong my dear?" he asked her pushing curls that had fallen into her eyes back from her face. She seemed so scared, as if she just had a nightmare, he could feel Nadir's eyes boring into his back.
"Say it once more please." She asked barely above a whisper.
"Say what?" he asked her curiously.
"Call me, 'your' Christine."
"I always loved you Erik, I always will... Thank you for loving me Erik. It was the most beautiful gift I have ever received other than Danielle…"
"Only if you call me 'your' Erik," he retorted.
"Alright, my Erik."
Her laughter.
Her smile.
Her eyes.
"Erik…"
"Oh Erik."
"Eriiiiiiiiiik."
"Erik, may you read to me?" Danielle called from the den.
"Uh... Not right now Danielle, I have to rest for a while." He said and fell over towards the coffin. His chest was seizing, tears blindly fell from his eyes and he was gasping and wheezing.
Too many memories, they had receded somewhat, but still spun around him like a fog overhead, thick and melancholy-like they spun until he felt faint. The memories were all surrounding her, his Christine, and how his little Dani and she were so close in comparison.
He climbed, literally, into his casket and closed his eyes, remembering to breathe. He hadn't had an attack in years, and unlike before Danielle, he was now terrified of them. To leave her now would surely be a crime. He couldn't let her starve down in the cellars of the opera, and picturing that fate for her always gave him the strength to carry on.
"Erwik..." She had said still having a bit of a problem pronouncing it at the age of three. He had been sitting in front of his violin case, not touching it, only looking at it helplessly. Panic rose in him, he turned cautiously and saw her in the doorway.
"Yes my little Angel?" He asked uneasily. She had not been in this room since the age of two. How did she get out of her bed? He had only put her down for a nap...
How long ago? He couldn't remember how long he had been sitting there in that room. He wanted to protect her innocent eyes from the shroud of death and aura of evil it possessed. However when he looked into said eyes, he could see she was not upset, and that instead curiosity filled them till it spilt over into her actions.
"What's this?" She asked looking around.
"You know Danielle, you are not suppose to be in here." He said still sitting helplessly in a chair, his hands clenching the arms, not knowing what to do.
"I knocked, no answer..." She said as she made her way into the room and looked all over it, all while playing with the curled ends of her hair. She was wearing a little blue dress that day, and her black dress shoes. Had she really knocked? He had not been playing so he would of been able to hear. He had not been playing for he never played. He only would sit there and remember the times when he found the courage too and Christine would listen in awe, listen or sing with the grace and beauty he only dreamed he could possess in his soul forever.
"What's that?" She asked pointing to the coffin. He had been dreading that question, and forgot at the tender age of three, she would not know what a casket was.
"It's a Cat basket..." He said remembering the fib he told to Christine so many years ago.
"Oh... but..." She said confused and walked towards him to be picked up.
"Go on Dani angel, what is it?" He asked as he placed her in his lap after deliberating touching her or not.
"We no have a Cat..." She said thinking.
He was brought back to earth by the sound of her fumbling over words.
"Then the boy said, I think that's won... won... won-der-ful." He heard her say with her melodious voice.
Oh that voice! What had he been thinking denying her music? Had he been deranged? He knew that it was still a wound closing for him at that time, and now all it left was a scar that he could remember fondly.
"Erik," She had asked coming into the music room, this time she was four and he was less startled. She had been walking into his room for more than a year.
"Yes Dani?" He asked his gaze never leaving the ebony keys. He lightly touched them and felt an intense electricity run through his body. He had betrayed music; he had left her when she needed him the most. He had done to her what so many had done to him, shun her and pretend she was not important any longer.
Sometimes when he was in a delusional state of mind, he truly believed she had sought revenge the night of Christine's death. That if he had not intended on playing the violin his Angel would have been alive still today.
Music was punishing him for giving up on her; she was a cruel mistress indeed. So he would sit there, looking over at the keys, wondering what music intended if he tried to reclaim her once more.
"What's this?" She said taking her thumb out long enough to point to the massive organ he was sitting in front of.
"Danielle, stop sucking your thumb, I have told you a thousand times it's a bad habit, angel."
"Sorry Erik." She said hurt.
"Oh Dani, no I am not angry with you, it is time though you break yourself from this habit. As for this, this plays music, it's an organ." He said dejectedly and ran a hand through his thin hair.
Looking at the instrument made his eyes fill with tears. Would he ever be able to play like he once did?
"Why don't you play?" Dani said, as if she was reading his thoughts.
"Because my little Angel, I can no longer play." He said
"Why not?" she asked as she finally attached herself to his leg.
"I don't think I know how to anymore little one, it has been almost 6 years." He said looking down at her wistfully.
"Wow, that's... that's... I'm four..." She said trying to understand how many years that technically would be.
"Yes you are my angel, almost five now." He said hoping to change the conversation.
"You never know till you try. Try to play Erik." She said looking back up at him with earnest eyes.
Out of the mouths of babes, he thought. She looked at it then back at him, trying to tell him with her eyes to try.
Sighing, he touched the keys once more, and felt the familiar tingling sensation he felt whenever he sat there not playing. His mind urged him to play, if only to please the child he would give his life for, however his fingers could not press against them and create a sound.
Frustrated he couldn't look at her, afraid of her displeasure. Slowly he rose from the seat and picked up Danielle.
"Come my love, it is time for your dinner." He said pressing his lips to her forehead.
He came back to consciousness again, he could still hear her reading, but still he was too weak to leave the safety of his bed. Slowly another memory crept up on him.
Erik felt shame from not being able to perform the simple task of playing the organ, until one day he heard her singing.
"Ring around the Rosie, pocket full o posies." She was singing lightly out of tune.
"What was that?" He said turning to her surprised.
"The night we went for a walk. I heard a girl singing it. Near the bridge," She said looking back at him and repeating it.
"Ring around the Rosie, pocket full o posies..." She sang again with such beauty that he was enraptured. However her voice was off-key, such an annoying little problem he could solve. Yes a new protégée to teach, a new angel of music, and this time he would not fuddle things up like he did with Christine. No this time things would be perfect; she would be perfect.
After all, he already called her angel and placed her on his pedestal of affection.
Without thinking Erik said "No Danielle like this..." and then played one of the keys in front of him so that the organ's glorious sound surrounded them and filled the room.
Surprised that he finally conquered the fear of the instrument, he looked down to a beaming face below him still.
"I know," She said simply and skipped off, singing the song in key.
"Erik?" He heard her call to him, slowly the fog of memories lifted and he opened his heavy eyes to see her standing above him.
"What's wrong angel?" He asked his voice filled with sleepiness.
"You have been sleeping for hours." She said simply.
"Oh my, I apologize my dear, are you hungry?" He asked her and lifting his weary body from his 'bed'. He couldn't keep sleeping in the casket or he would surely one day never get out of it. He was in his fifties now, and high time he got a bed. Perhaps one day he would do just that.
"Not really... its just..." She said and bit her thumbnail.
He smiled softly to himself; she still had not been able to break that habit, but it had its uses, he knew she only did it when she had something on her mind.
"Yes Dani? Continue." He told her.
"In the book I was reading, the little boy, well he had a Papa... A Father." She started.
Oh no, he thought, here it comes. He would have to explain things to her and she would be crushed. She would either demand to be taken back or feel incomplete, all because of him.
"Well, I don't know what a Papa is." She said furrowing her brow in confusion and looking up at him.
He thought long and hard for a moment, what was he going to tell her? What was a father? He had never had one and all the people who should have been a parent to him had treated him with malice his whole life. All the books he had read made a father out to be a valiant man who cared for his children.
"It is, it is the um... well my angel, a father is..." He began to stumble.
"It is a man who cares about his child or children very much, one who loves them and takes care of them until they are grown up." He said thinking that was the most logical way of putting it.
"Oh well, then I suppose you are my father." She said with the same simplicity and innocence again.
"No Danielle, I am not your father, a father is related to you by birth." He said looking down at her.
"But... you love me don't you?" She said with a fearful voice that made him melt and for once, made him not hesitate to pick her up.
"Of course my angel, of course." He said trying to quell her fears.
"Then, is there really someone out they're who is related to me and loves me?" She asked repeating all the information he had given her.
"Yes, I'm sure there is actually Dani." He said kissing her forehead.
"But he doesn't take care of me! Not like you Erik..." She said
"My angel, I love you but I'm not related to you, it's not..."
"But, that does not matter, because I don't know him, I know you, and I'm YOUR angel!" She said with tears in her eyes "I'm YOUR angel Erik!" she said letting them slip.
"Oh yes Danielle, you are my angel, hush sweetheart, hush..." he said easing her head onto his shoulder.
"I don't want anyone to be my Papa but you Erik," She said fiercely. "I should get to pick! I should get to say who is my papa, who I love."
"I suppose you should." He said tiredly, not knowing what she was leading to.
She smiled as her arms wrapped around his neck and she kissed his cheek. "Good, then I say you are my Papa, and that's what I am going to call you from now on." She said.
His heart skipped a beat, she had just called him Papa; something he had secretly wished for everyday.
"No Dani, that's not..."
"But Papa, you said!" She interjected. They stared at each other for a moment, that little girl in his arms, how could he deny her anything.
"You said I could choose, and I choose you, you are my Papa. That's final." She said firmly and nodded her head.
He couldn't help laughing, "Oh is it now?" he asked amused.
"Yes, now Papa we should go make supper." She said and looked out of the room.
Erik transferred her weight unto one of his sides and carried her out of his room into the kitchen.
This will be one of those memories I will reflect on, he thought as a tear fell behind his mask.