Chapter 59

In the months that followed, Poppy's wild cravings died down. She was still emotional, though. Crying at little things or getting mad at the little things. Finally, when she was about seven months along, she became normal again. Her temper was shorter, but Erik learned the hard way to tread carefully. The first time she snapped, he found out how short tempered she was. He had been working on the opera he was writing. He was not going to wait until 1986, for the British composer to write his supposed story. He wanted to write it and write it right, not wait until after he was dead, for it to be twisted all-around. He had been asking how the ending went after Don Juan. Poppy answered well enough, happy to have a hand with the story. When he had the outline done, Poppy asked whom did he have in mind to play the parts. Erik told her that most of the company would be playing their parts that were in the book and musical. He would be playing his self. Poppy nodded, telling him only the original would be right for it. Armand would play Raoul. Erik had gritted his teeth a little at the name, but nothing more. But then came the storm. Poppy asked who was going to play Christine. Not thinking about Poppy's past hate of Christine, had told her that she would. Poppy had fallen silent. Then asked:

"You have got to be kidding?" her voice was quiet, but the storm was brewing.

"No. I think you would make a great Christine." He had meant her voice, for it was getting better everyday. But Poppy's hormones were shot up so she was looking for a fight.

"I would make a great Christine!" She shrieked, "Am I so much like her? Or are you trying to make me like her? Do you want the little bitch back? Is that why you are writing this opera? To pretend that I'm her? If you want her go, find her, and leave me the hell alone!" Suddenly she burst out crying. Sinking to her knees, Poppy cried into her hands.

Erik had stood there shocked at what she had said. Surly, she didn't mean those things. He was kneeing beside her the moment she had fell to her knees. He gathered her tightly into his arms, holding her like a child to his lean, but powerful frame. Poppy cried on his shoulder, allowing him to soothe her.

"Pas le cri, mon amour, s'il vous plait ne pas pleurer," he whispered, rocking her in his arms, one hand held her tightly to his chest, the other was tangled in her long hair, stroking it. His face was buried in her hair and Poppy felt him kissing her head softly.

Her sobs slowly came to an end. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean those things I said. My temper is just terrible at the moment."

Erik continued to rock her, "I know. I'm sorry as well. I should have remembered your state. I had only meant—"

"I know. You meant my voice. I –" she stopped.

"What's wrong?"

She smiled, "The baby just kicked." Poppy took his hand and placed it on her small abdomen. At seven months, she looked like she was five.

Erik felt her hard stomach. Suddenly, he felt a hard kick at his hand. He pulled away, shocked. "The baby?"

Poppy smiled sweetly, "Yes. The baby knows you. Every time you sing, it'll kick and move then settle down." She thought for a minute, and then found his hand again, placing it back on her belly. "Sing."

Erik began to sing, feeling the baby kick upwards then began to settle down let Poppy had said.

"Night-time sharpens, heightens each sensation ...
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination ...
Silently the senses abandon their defenses ...

Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendor ...
Grasp it, sense it - tremulous and tender ...
Turn your face away from the garish light of day,
turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light -
and listen to the music of the night ...

Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams!
Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before!
Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar!
And you'll live as you've never lived before ...

Softly, deftly, music shall surround you ...
Feel it, hear it, closing in around you ...
Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind,
in this darkness which you know you cannot fight -
the darkness of the music of the night.

Let your mind start a journey through a strange, new world!
Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before!
Let your soul
Take you where you long to be!
Only then can you belong to me ...

Floating, falling, sweet intoxication!
Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation!
Let the dream begin,
let your darker side give in to the power of
the music that I write - the power of the music of the night ...

You alone can make my song take flight help me make the music of the night ..."

When he finished, both his loves were asleep in his arms.

Aww how sweet! I have decided what the baby will be. It may be a girl, or I may surprise you all and give them a boy. You just never know! Some of the answers were great! Twins! That'll really made Erik frazzled.

Pas le cri, mon amour, s'il vous plait ne pas pleurer- don't cry, my love, please don't cry.

Like I had said n my other story and profile, I love the languages, but am not fluent. I know words and phrases, but that is all. Sorry.