Chapter 11 Not a Dream
Christine lay in the warm softness of her bed half awake and listened to the soft piano music that was playing somewhere. Her eyes were still closed and she was not aware of whether this was real or a dream. She had a strange dream: one of those double-dreams that you seem to wake up during but it is still a dream. She vaguely remembered walking up to her mirror and then stepping through it to meet Erik who led her down stairs and through seemingly endless corridors. She snuggled deeper into the soft velvet blanket she had wrapped up in and smiled contentedly at the dream. Erik had been incredibly charming and intoxicating with his presence and voice.
As she began to wake up, the piano music became louder until she realized with a start that it was not part of a dream. Someone was really playing a piano in her room! Christine's blue-gray eyes flew open and she sat up, black velvet blankets sliding down to her waist. Her sight adjusted and she suddenly found herself in a strange room; one that she had never been in, except in her dream. But I walked through a mirror, and Erik was on the other side...it HAD to be a dream, right?
Erik heard the rustle of blankets behind him and stopped his playing, wondering if he had been playing too loud and had awoken his sleeping beauty.
"Ah, you are awake, my dear. I hope you slept well." Christine's jumped at the voice and finally noticed Erik looking at her over his shoulder from the piano bench. He smiled at the look of surprise that registered upon her features.
"I did, thank you," she answered hesitantly. Her mind was still cloudy and she couldn't quite decipher what part of the evening had been real and what had been a dream.
"Last night," she began slowly. "were you really behind..."
"Yes," Erik answered quickly.
"And I really walked through..."
"Yes."
"And the dark hallways..." Erik nodded.
"And you escorted me to...well, here. Where is here?"
"Yes, I brought you here, to my home. This is my music room," he stood up and gestured around the room filled with instruments and sheet music as well as comfortable lavish furniture. Christine pulled her knees and blanket up to her chest, staring at the black fabric. It was finally starting to sink in that last night was not a dream.
"But you are mistaken, Christine. It was not last night, but two nights ago. You have been asleep for almost thirty-six hours straight." Christine's stare shot up to him, eyes open wide. I have been asleep for a day and a half! What about classes? What about Meg and Raoul? They must be worried sick about me!
"I was beginning to get worried, so I came down here to play and make sure you were well. I hope I didn't disturb you," he continued, looking genuinely concerned. He almost seemed to blend into the décor of the room with a maroon button-down shirt and black pants. His white mask, as usual, stood in stark contrast.
"No," she assured him. She folded her legs under the blanket and let it fall onto her lap. "But I've been missing for so long. What about..." She began to express her concern, but Erik glided over to sit on the other end of the couch.
"Everything has been taken care of. There's no need to worry."
"But..." He placed a long thin finger on her lips to quiet her and shook his head.
"As far as everyone outside this room is concerned, you have taken a short leave to visit your ill foster grandmother. Your professors and friends all think you are back in Nathwood for the week," he explained, looking her straight in the eye.
"How?"
"Oh, it was easy really. A few phone calls and letters, and everything was set," he gave a small smile of pride. Christine couldn't help but give a smile in return, and then the most pressing question dawned upon her.
"Why? Why did you bring me here?"
"You need work Christine. Your singing is improving, but you have an audition in a week's time and I do not believe you are as prepared for it as you need to be. I need you to focus solely on improving your singing. There are too many distractions out there."
"So...this is like vocal boot camp?" she asked hesitantly. Erik chuckled, something he had never really had reason to do before, and stood up.
"I suppose you could call it that. I warn you, the training is going to get intense."
"And what if I don't want to?" She was shocked at his expression. He went from friendly and warm to cold, hurt, and dark in an instant.
"Then you can fail," he spat and turned his back on her.
"I'm kidding," she added quickly and grabbed his elbow. She stood and turned him to face her once again. "Of course I want to. Erik, I can't tell you how much I appreciate you going through all this trouble for me." His expression softened and he held her close for a minute, savoring her warmth and the feel of her body pressed against him, and the feel of her sleep-tousled hair under his chin.
"Erik, this may sound silly to you, but are you really the Angel of Music? My father used to tell me stories, but..."
"He's in Heaven now, and you needed guidance," Erik interrupted. It wasn't exactly a lie. Sighing, he stepped back and took hold of her shoulders as arms length. Christine stared at him in awe.
"Time is wasting, Christine, so we had better start soon. There are clothes for you in wardrobe which I believe to be your size. I will fetch you something to eat and return in a few minutes." He stepped around her and disappeared through the door.
Christine watched him go and turned her attention to the wardrobe he indicated. Like all of the wood furniture in the room, it was dark mahogany finish with ornate carvings in the doors. She grasped the brass knobs and opened the doors. There were instrument cases and stands resting on the floor, but the rod and doors were loaded with clothes for every occasion. She noticed dress pants and jackets, button-down blouses and sweaters, even formal gowns and Victorian-style dresses. The two drawers below housed undergarments, socks, jeans, fitted t-shirts, and pajamas. It was only upon closer inspection of the lower drawers that Christine noticed at least a dozen pairs of shoes placed on the wardrobe floor: sneakers, loafers, boots, dress shoes with and without heels, sandals, slippers... Christine picked up one of the loafers and inspected the size. I was a size 7, her exact fit.
After close consideration, Christine reached for a pair of black slacks. Her hand brushed against something smooth and slippery and the candlelight glinted off of the object. She carefully parted the clothes and removed a shimmery pale blue Victorian gown with lace around the top and hem. Silver thread had been embroidered in intricate designs on the bodice. The dress took her breath away and she felt obligated to try it on. After a few minutes of fighting with the zipper, Christine was astonished at how well the dress fit her. It felt like it was tailored to fit every curve and was the skirt was the exact length, falling right below her ankles. She chose a pair of silver flats and searched for a mirror but found none, so she twirled, feeling like a princess as the skirt flared out around her.
"What's the special occasion?" Erik asked from the doorway, holding a tray. He had been watching his angel twirl around the room like a carefree little girl for a few moments and smiled. She's happy. At least this once, I have made her happy.
Christine stopped in mid-twirl at the question and turned bright red.
"It was so beautiful that I had to try it on," she said, looking at the floor in embarrassment. How much did Erik see of her little dance? How could I let me see me like this? He must think I'm just a stupid child. "I'll change."
Erik set the tray on the end table and crossed the room. He stood in front of Christine and gently raised her chin up to him and gazed into her eyes. He brought her hand gently up to his lips. Christine shuddered as a pleasant sensation ran up and down her spine.
"You look beautiful, my dear," he said.
"Beautiful? You just said I'm beautiful?"
"Yes I did," Erik said confused. "Hasn't anyone ever told you that you're beautiful?"
"No," Christine replied sadly. "Pretty, incredible, and other words the may mean beautiful, but never beautiful."
"Well, now you have. You are beautiful, Christine, in such a special way unlike anyone else. That dress does not do your beauty justice, but do not change."
"Ok, I'll keep it on," Christine replied, near breathless. His face was so close to hers that she could feel his breath gently on her face. Her focus went from his intense eyes to his inviting lips. She shifted her face slightly closer...so close...
"Dinner?"
"Huh?" Christine stepped back, flushed.
"Are you hungry? I brought you dinner," Erik repeated, walking over to the tray. He lifted the brushed silver shield to reveal a plate of chicken fettuccini alfredo, a small salad, and a glass of red wine. Christine stood frozen in shock at the meal in front of her.
"Where did this come from?" she asked as Erik pulled up a chair and motioned for her to sit down. She complied.
"The kitchen, " he replied and sat across the small table. "I hope you find it satisfactory."
"You cooked this?"
"Cooking is one of my many talents, along with fashion design." Christine nearly choked on her forkful of salad.
"You made this?" She looked down at her dress in awe. Erik nodded.
"That piece is one of my favorites. I made it especially for you." Christine beamed.
"Now finish you dinner before it gets cold," Erik instructed. Christine turned her attention back to the wonderful meal prepared for her.
"What about you? Aren't you eating?"
"No, I already ate," Erik lied. He hardly ever ate, only about a meal per day if that. It was his music and passion that sustained him.
"I will, however, have a drink with you," he continued. He left momentarily and returned with an open bottle of wine and a piece of stemware that matched Christine's. He raised his glass in toast.
"To us and hopefully the start of something wonderful." Christine felt a pang of uneasiness. She had heard those words before but for some odd reason, she couldn't remember where.
"To us," she replied with a smile, pushing the pang away. The wine was very sweet and complemented the meal nicely. She savored each bite of the food and was disappointed when she reached her fill.
Erik cleared the tray and returned to the music room. Christine asked if he had a mirror around so she could see the dress for herself.
"Come, I shall give you the grand tour of my domain," He offered his arm and escorted Christine around his lair. At the end of the hallway on every floor, there was a janitor's closet and behind each of those closets, Erik had built a room which could be accessed by a small staircase stretching from the basement all the way up to the third floor. Erik's library and drawing room was in the basement. Above that, on the ground floor, was Erik's kitchen and bathroom. The music room was on the second floor and Erik's bedroom was housed on the third floor. He did not actually take her up to his room. It was too close to her dorm room and he would show her it all in good time.
"How did you manage to build this, Erik? Doesn't anyone know that these rooms are here?"
"No, I was actually hired to help build this dormitory several years ago and I added a few changes to the architectural plans. The dolts the school hired to build this were none the wiser and the head architect was too busy on other jobs to survey the building in progress. I suppose everyone just thinks we have huge janitorial closets."
Christine was in awe at how "with a few changes" Erik was able to create a perfectly hidden 4-story home at the end of the hallways of a college dormitory. She certainly wouldn't have believed it was possible.
A few hours later, they returned to the music room and Christine flopped down exhaustedly on the couch. He sat down next to her and let her head rest on his shoulder.
"If I had known that I was going to be hiking, I would have chosen a different outfit. This dress is heavy!"
"Tired?"
"Mhmm, " she nodded and closed her eyes.
"Well, you should be. It's about 2 in the morning."
"What? How can that be?" She snuggled closer to Erik who suddenly felt his heart skip a beat.
"You woke up in the middle of the day, my dear."
"Oh," she said quietly in understanding.
"You had best be getting some sleep. Tomorrow the real work begins."
"Oh," she sighed in disappointment—not at the work, but at the fact that Erik would be leaving. She was relishing in his warmth and just being next to him. It seemed like forever since she had somebody to lean on. She felt him shift and stand up. He reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze.
"Good night, Christine."
"Good night, my Angel of Music," she replied with a content grin. Her father had kept his promise after all. Somehow, this man or angel was sent to her to help her achieve her dreams. Only time would tell if they were meant to come true.
Erik blew out all but two of the candles before leaving the room. Christine then slowly pulled herself up to a standing position and proceeded to find her way out of the dress and into some pajamas.