Antoinette Giry: I spent the week in such a relaxing state, I didn't even want to leave on Saturday. I'd met several great people during my visit, including a handsome young man named Jean-Claude, from Milan, France.

He had long black hair and the softest blue eyes.

We spent hours by the poolside, talking, laughing, and enjoying the clear weather. It was Mid-November, and there was a crisp chill to the air. The retreat itself was marvelous.

I received facial treatments, manicures and pedicures; and I decided, at Jean-Claude's advice, to cut my long braided hair. It wasn't short, but I had it cut up to my shoulders and styled in the latest English style.

I felt relaxed, warm, and comfortable. Each evening was spectacular, with a live band that played and Jean-Claude and I dancing. He was impressed by my talent, and I would only giggle.

I never told him about my experiences at The Paris Opera, only that I was a simple woman looking for some relaxation. I never even told him I had a daughter; which shamed me. I was proud of Megan; but yet, I often wondered if she was proud of me.

I worried about her and Erik constantly, all through my vacation. I was afraid of what may or may not have been happening between them; whether Erik was keeping a lookout for Meg or if Meg was keeping Erik in line.

Both of them together without some supervision was a disaster waiting to happen. The only thing I was sure of was that Erik would never harm Meg, and that, although neither of them were very well at being alone, at least Meg would not lose her head.

Perhaps it was that both of them needed each other, to counter-balance their exceedingly different personalities, and I was needed to guide them both, where ever they chose to go.

Jean-Claude and I spent our days together, relishing the short time we would have. I loved to hold his hand and talk with him. He would often stare into my eyes and murmur fanciful words. It set my heart on fire, and yet I didn't expect us to remain close.

Perhaps that is why I never told him much about my life. He, however, confided in me with the most intimate secrets.

I had never met anyone so charming and dashing, even my late husband could not compare to Jean-Claude's wit. We danced by the moonlight, laughed in the early sunrise, and at times it felt as if all my worries could fade away, with one simple man.

Yet they couldn't. Because another man dominated me

. I was in charge of one of Paris's most hunted and feared mass murderers, and he was with my daughter. No amount of wine and laughter could take away my responsibilities. So it was with a heavy heart, and several tears, that I refused Jean-Claude's invitation to his home in Milan.

I tried to explain we had two separate paths to take, and that I was going to travel further. I used every lie my heart could bleed, to make my new found happiness leave.

It was impossible for me to shirk my duties as a mother for some petty fling.

Although I knew Meg was well old enough to find herself a man and settle down, I couldn't bear the thought of leaving her all alone. And there was always the presence of Erik; the constant pressure of figuring out what to do with him.

He had been my charge and responsibility, and I couldn't throw away nearly twenty-two years of caretaking.

I was left on Saturday morning alone, as Jean-Claude rode away without even a kiss goodbye.

Meg: We spent the rest of the week skiing, walking, and playing the piano. Neither of us spoke about the kiss, and we filled our time with so many activities that we were never caught alone without some form of entertainment.

Erik seemed subdued, lost in thought, and I did not bother him. I knew my actions had been harsh and quick, and I wondered if I had hurt him somehow. Yet it was I who was also hurting. While Erik pined away for Christine, I too pined away for him.

Two loves, unrequited, and it increased the tension between us terribly.

Often I had seen Erik taking glances at me, but he would always turn away when I looked at him. He continued to wear his mask, and I did not pressure him to remove it. It wasn't until we were ready to descend the mountain that the tension broke.

It had been a wonderful three days at the ski lodge, and I was sad to be leaving. Yet my legs and feet were quite happy to be resting against my horse again. Erik had removed his black ski mask and was again wearing his white half mask.

He had taken the fedora back from me and had packed his wig with his luggage. I didn't mind, that hat looked rather silly on me, and yet when Erik wore it he excluded menace. I knew we would not be mugged on our way to meet my mother.

We hadn't actually been that quite and alone in several days, but now the silence grew around us like ivy on a vine. I asked Erik how long it would take us to reach the cross-roads where we would meet my mother, but he merely shrugged and replied he didn't know.

I looked back down at my reins and sighed. Finally I asked him, why he was so distant to me. To my surprise he told me I was being distant to him. I looked at him incredulously, unable to believe he would accuse me of being cold to him.

I was the one who broke down and cried, it was me who revealed my deepest feelings only to find that they were unrecepricated! Erik, however, told me it was only a young woman's crush, and that I shouldn't be so worked up over such a little thing.

We were friends and nothing more.

That made me madder than I had ever felt, and I slept that night far away from Erik.

Erik: Once again Meg was angry at me. I suppose that is the only feeling I inspire in people; anger and fear.

Of course I was rather exasperated by her. All during the time we spent at the ski lodge Meg continued to make advances upon me. Even after our conversation she continued to try and catch my attention, as if willing me to change my mind.

I did love her, if that was what she wanted, but I did not love her in the way she expected me to.

It was difficult enough with my conflicted feelings, but Meg was hardly giving me time to think over things.

I could barely keep up with her as she skied, walked, and even tried to start a snowball fight with some young people. The only time I could be alone was when I was playing the piano. It was my sanctuary, just as it had been at the Opera, and I poured my music into the keys.

During our trip back to meet Ann, Meg again tried to engage me in conversation. I had to tell her the truth, I couldn't love anyone as much as I loved Christine, but I did need Meg in my life. She kept me sane, she kept me from falling off the edge; but honestly, if she continued her advances I was going to become enraged.

I was beginning to miss Antoinette, and was glad when Meg chose to sleep on the other side of the forest road.

I needed some space to think, to solve, and to simply relax. I looked up at the stars, mapping out each little dot, but as time moved on I realized I was not falling asleep.

I thought of Christine, and how much simpler she had been.

In fact, she had been far too simple. At least with Meg I was being challenged.

She had a volatile and inquisitive nature, and I realized I did enjoy that. Perhaps I was being too hard on Meg. She did like me for who I was, as a man; and I didn't have to pretend around her.

I finally sat up and looked across at Meg's sleeping form. It would be rude to awaken her at such an hour, but then I wasn't the type of man to follow common curtesy. I patted my sleeping horse as I walked across to Meg. She was breathing deep, and I gently tapped her shoulder.

She did not wake, and I whispered, "Meg." I sighed. She was far to deep a sleeper. Christine would awake at the slightest noise, but Meg was lost in her dreams.

I shook her shoulder more roughly, and she awoke with a gasp, "Erik, what's wrong?"

I sat beside her and whispered, "I'm sorry."

She looked at me groggily and asked, "What!"

I repeated myself, "I'm sorry for my behavior these past few days. I have been rather oblivious to your feelings."

Meg was now sitting up and looking at me rather crossly. "You woke me up in the middle of the night to say this?"

I nodded, "It couldn't wait until morning. I am also sorry for waking you up." I hoped she wouldn't hit me for my brash behavior, but instead she folded her arms tight. "Erik, why after all this time, would you wait until the middle of the night to talk to me?"

I shrugged and replied, "Sometimes the best conversations happen at night." Meg yawned and told me, "But this is something we can discuss in the morning. I do accept your, apology, but please let me go back to sleep."

Her hair fell into her eyes and I automatically reached out to brush it back.

I liked looking at her eyes, but that one movement caught me in a web of strange emotions.

I stopped, my hand against her temple, and looked at her. I twisted the hair in my fingers, nervous and slightly drawn to her.

Meg looked at me, and I reached down, kissing her forehead and letting her hair go.

She smiled for the first time in several hours, and I whispered, "We can talk in the morning. Goodnight."

I quickly walked over to my belongings, calming my beating heart.