Chapter Six

Later that afternoon, after the errands had been run and they had gotten their belongings from Christine's old home, the carriage pulled up to Erik's home; Henri was asleep on Christine's lap, while Claire slept in her arms. It had been a long morning for both of her children, and she knew it was past their nap time. The trick would be getting both of them in the house and up to the bedrooms. Erik noticed her struggle, and, being a gentleman, asked, "Could I assist you?" She thought a moment.

"Could you take her?" she asked hesitantly, nodding to Claire, who was fast asleep in her arms.

"Certainly," he said, extending his arms to accept the child. In truth, however, he had never held a baby before, and hoped he would do it properly.

She gently placed her daughter in his arms, "Watch her head," she said quietly, out of habit.

He cradled her tenderly to his chest, supporting her head and neck, and walked to the house, telling the servants to fetch the numerous trunks of goods they had acquired during the trip; dresses for Christine and Claire, small pairs of pants, shirts, and jackets for Henri, and a new crib.

Christine entered the house, holding a sleeping Henri to her chest, his head resting on her shoulder. He walked up the stairs to the hallway and entered Christine's bedroom, standing awkwardly waiting for her arms to come free so she could accept the child. "I will assemble the crib," he said, handing her Claire after she'd settled Henri into bed.

"Thank you," she said quietly, not wanting to wake the baby girl, cradling her to her chest. He nodded and left the room to fetch the crib.

She smiled softly at Erik... He had been too good to them; her especially. She knew she did not deserve his kindness, and knew she would always feel the need to repay him, and would always be in debt to him. He had been wonderful for Henri; she knew her little boy was in love with him already... He had needed a father figure in his life. A father figure? Is that what I want him to be for them? she thought to herself, looking down at Claire to make sure she was sleeping soundly, and absentmindedly smoothed her short, wispy hair.

In a few moments, he returned; he knelt to the ground and quickly assembled the cradle, which was complete with a plush, pink interior. "There you are," he said, once it was complete.

She walked over to the crib, gently setting Claire into the beautiful crib; she leaned over and kissed her forehead softly, then straightened up, simply watching her sleep. It made her so happy to see that both her daughter and son were comfortable and at peace in their sleep. Christine glanced over at Erik and smiled at him once more.

He smiled softly, then said, "I will leave you in peace." He gave a small bow before turning and exiting the room. He made his way to his small music room, and sat at the organ there, but did not play, for fear of waking the little ones. Absentmindedly, she followed him into the music room.

He did not really notice, or mind, when Christine entered the room, as he poured over his many musical scores, trying to think of improvements or additions for them. Once he had finished, she said quietly, "I am quite out of practice when it comes to singing."

"So I have heard from your son... Why is that?"

She shrugged. "I suppose I just wasn't inspired to... My husband said it conjured up too many memories that he would rather forget."

"I see... That is unfortunate... You were quite a talent," he said quietly.

"Thank you..." she murmured, memories that she had been pushing away of the opera house and... Erik... flooding back to her.

"Yes... Do you suppose the children will wake if I play quietly?"

"No," she smiled slightly, "They're quite heavy sleepers."

"In that case, please excuse me," he said, pulling out a duet from Romeo and Juliet.

"May I sing with you?" she asked hesitantly.

"I suppose... The song, though, it's not quite appropriate... If you would not feel comfortable..." he rambled.

"It's alright..."

"If you insist..." With that he played the opening bars, leading into her entrance. He was most interested to see what she sounded like after all these years.

She began to sing, feeling self conscious and a bit nervous about what he would think.

He found that her voice, though a bit rough, sounded basically the same, which was good. She was nervous, he could tell, nervous of the criticism he may inflict upon her, but her energy was wasted, for he could find none. Any faults in her voice could be mended by practice.

When his cue came, his voice joined in with hers, creating beautiful harmony... He was amazed at how perfectly their voices combined, how right it sounded.

She felt herself become entranced by his voice once more; she felt her body relax as she sang... She hadn't realized how much she had missed singing... especially with Erik.

He fell into a music-induced stupor, one of many, aware of only his and Christine's voices; even the accompaniment did not matter so much any longer.

All too soon, the song came to a close; she gazed at him, feeling her heart quickening for reasons she could not comprehend. The final note of the organ lingered in the air longer after they had stopped singing. Finally, he rose from the instrument, standing directly in front of her, and looked deeply into her eyes. "Thank you, Christine," he said quietly.

She nodded, and had a sudden urge to embrace him, but she did not act on it... She simply stood there, her eyes not leaving his. She heard someone sneeze behind her, and turned to find her son standing at the doorway, watching them. Quickly, not wanting to be seen, Henri ducked out of the doorway.

"Henri, please come here," said Erik lightly. Henri peaked back into the room.

"Were you listening in on us?" he asked gently. He nodded silently, not wanting to get into trouble, he didn't budge from the door.

"I am sorry we woke you... Do you wish to go back to bed?"

"I think that would be a good idea," Christine said gently, "You're not in trouble, little man..." she smiled at him. "Come here," she said holding out her arms to him. He walked over to her, and she scooped him up, kissing his cheek. "Are you tired?"

"Yes," he said quietly, resting his head on her shoulder; he wrapped his arms around her neck, and looked over at Erik, smiling at him slightly.

He smiled back. "Rest well, son," he said, as they left the room. He sat at the organ once more, though found no desire to do anything.