Do not panic, this is an Erik/Christine coupling. Desiree is important to the story line, so please bear with me.
Thank you for all the wonderful reviews. I didn't have as many for the last chapter as I had hoped, but maybe folks are busy…none the less…I bring you chapter 9 – enjoy!
THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT
Part II – Making Life out of Nothing at All – Chapters 8 - 10
CHAPTER 9
It had been the longest two days of Desiree's life. The man tossed and turned, and burned with a fever from the infection invading his body. She bathed his forehead, neck, and chest with cool water and constantly checked his temperature.
He had spent the greater part of the days and nights mumbling and fighting battles in his sleep. She had once heard that words said in the midst of a heavy sleep, never lie. This man had been through extreme anguish all of his life.
He spoke of betrayal and lost love; of a viscous, unloving, uncaring mother and gypsies, who abused him mentally, physically, and sexually. His vivid words made Desiree cringe with revulsion at what he had been put through; and he revealed things to her that she was sure he would have rather not.
It seemed to have all started with his mothers loathing, and the mask she forced upon him; and then it just escalated from there. Desiree could not believe the atrocities she heard spew from his mouth. She soothed his heated brow and spoke calming words into his ears, hoping to reach his fevered mind.
By the time his eyes opened on the third day after his arrival, Desiree knew just about everything there was to know about this man…except, his name.
"Hello, Mr. Adonis…" she leaned into his features and smiled brightly, "…oh, my green-eyed Adonis…" Desiree sang, as she threw open the heavy drapes covering the windows; dust went everywhere. "I was wondering what color those eyes would be."
He threw his arm up and covered his eyes from the sharp invasion of light. He sat in stunned silence, taking in his surroundings. He was supposed to be dead…the needle slipped into his vein and administered the weapon that would finally take him from this miserable existence…once again, death abandoned him.
He felt like death, he probably didn't look much better; and yet, before him stood a beautiful young woman with red hair and blue eyes; an obvious, protruding abdomen registered in his brain as pregnancy, so there must be a husband about.
"Where am I?" came his raspy question.
The angel smiled, came toward him, and wiped his brow. "You're in my home…such as it is." Her eyes collided with his, and she smiled even brighter, "You overdosed on Morphine…which I choose to believe was an accident…and I found you in my barn." She put her finger to her chin as if recalling details, "After that magnificent horse of yours pointed me toward you."
He was having trouble keeping up with her accelerated speech. She spoke faster than he could process thought at this moment, and she spoke with a strange accent. He realized she was staring at him and dropped his eyes.
"You should have left me." He pointedly said, his tone becoming hushed and threatening.
Without missing a beat, she chastised, "Don't give me that tone and I was not going to let a perfectly good man expire in my barn."
The man just sat there with his mouth agape, staring at this woman as if she had lost her mind. "What could have possessed you to help me?" he asked. "You should be terrified of me." Panic filled his eyes and then his hand shot to the right side of his face. He cursed under his breath and stared her down with his left eye.
Desiree watched as the proud, sensual demeanor he had been portraying, became something else entirely. His entire countenance changed to one of vulnerability and mistrust.
"Don't bother, I have bathed your brow, forced soup and water down your throat, and listened to your life history for the past two days…and all of that was done without the mask." Her stare was unsettling, "There will be no hiding behind that mask in my house, Mr. Adonis."
The hand slowly lowered, but his eyes fixed on hers. "How can you bear to be in the same room as I?" He asked; uncertainty in his tone.
"Well, let's see." She replied, putting her finger to her mouth as if in deep thought.
She looked deep into his eyes; they were the most striking shade of green she had ever seen and she found in their depths a longing…a longing for acceptance and understanding.
"You have done nothing to make me frightened of you…you have the most striking eyes I have ever seen, your voice calms my soul…" Her face lit up, giving her an inner glow that seamed to illuminate the room. "…there are lots more reasons, but we'll stop there."
Erik scowled at her, looking disappointed and grumpy. "Why did you help me?"
"Number one, because how did I know that you weren't an angel from God sent to keep me company; number two, my parents taught me to treat to others as I would wish to be treated, and number three; my husband, God rest his soul, never met a stranger; he loved everyone." She breathed with conviction in her voice.
The man smirked, but the action did not reach his eyes, "Believe me, child, I am no angel from God." He declared.
"Well, maybe not, but you are still from God…one way or the other." Desiree insisted. "And I am no child."
He fixed a cold stare on her, but his lips curved in a whisper of a sad smile, "You are compared to me…you don't even know me."
Desiree was not in the least bit intimidated by his foul mood, "In that, you are wrong, Mr. Adonis…I know a great deal about you…you talk when you sleep." She leaned over him and smiled. "You don't look old, Mr. Adonis, so please stop calling yourself old…I am twenty-four, I doubt you're much older than that."
Erik stared incredulously at her animated features. He had thought her no older than Christine had been, but she was only three years younger than he was. She was petite and fresh looking; very misleading to a man who knew next to nothing about women.
"Why do you keep calling me that ridiculous name?" He asked, turning toward the door as it opened.
The doctor strode in at that moment and walked up to the bedside. "How is our patient, Madam Monét?"
Desiree wrinkled her brow and pursed her lips, "He's a bit of a grump, but other than that…charming." She chided, smiling at the handsome stranger.
"I'm sure." The doctor retorted, with uplifted eyebrows. "I am Dr. Thibaud Bateaux, and this lovely woman is Madam Desiree Monét."
They stood beside his bed, as if waiting for him to introduce himself. They obviously weren't going to leave until he did.
"I am Erik…" he hesitated in using his real last name, so pulled one out of the recesses of his mind, "Erik de Ville." He finally replied with a bored sigh.
Desiree smiled, every feature of her face lighting up, "There, now don't you feel better?"
Erik scowled at her annoying brightness. She was a sprightly little thing, and it grated against the scrooge that lurked within him.
The doctor did a thorough examination; letting Erik know that the sores on his back had scabbed over and were on their way to healing; he would have permanent scars, but they would fade with time.
"Scars are something I am very familiar with." Erik mused.
"Alright, enough depressing talk, you need to eat…and I have some fresh potato soup that has just reached is perfection…coming right up." Desiree chirped, her heart leaping into her throat.
Erik mumbled, "Are you always this infuriatingly perky?"
She headed out the door as she spoke, "Yes, it's a curse from my mother…she was the ultimate optimist."
Erik rolled his eyes and smirked at his "good fortune."
"Oh, lucky me." He muttered.
She came back, not two minutes later with something that smelled delicious. She put a napkin at his chin, which he reluctantly allowed after she slapped his hand away, and proceeded to feed him the soup.
"I am not an invalid; I am perfectly capable of feeding myself." Erik insisted, as he grabbed for the bowl again.
Desiree cocked her head and pursed her lips at him, "Consider it practice for when the baby arrives." She remarked, as she continued to spoon the delectable soup into his mouth. Erik reluctantly admitted to himself that the soup tasted heavenly.
"I am no baby, Madam." He pouted.
"It is hard to tell with the way you are acting." She retorted.
He gave her an indignant glare and decided to cooperate with her. His humiliation would end much sooner.
He examined her features, closely. She barely looked more than a child; strawberry blond hair and blue eyes stood out from an elfin face, dotted with freckles. She was quite striking, actually – had Erik been interested in such things.
They finished feeding time, and Erik half way expected her to try to burp him. This thought planted a strange image in his mind, which caused him to smirk. He continued to watch her move about the room, picking up items that had fallen to the floor and placing the bowl and spoon on the table in the corner.
His dark, searching eyes managed to make her slightly uncomfortable under their assessing stare. She glanced at him and gave a nervous smile. He was extremely handsome, and seemed to have no knowledge of this.
"May I have my mask, please…Madam Monét?" Erik asked, trying to sound businesslike.
Desiree looked at him and smiled as if he were the most attractive man on earth, "I told you there would be no hiding in my house…I've only known you for three days; and after three days I don't even notice the deformity."
Erik was trying to be patient…after all, she was just a child, "My dear, I can be a patient man, but I have found myself pressed to the limit over the past several months…please, just give me the mask."
She silently strode over, retrieved the offensive item from the wardrobe, and roughly handed it to him. He instantly placed it over his right side, making it seem as if he was placing a layer of skin over it.
"Are you really the Phantom of the Opera?" Desiree asked, knowing it would jolt him.
The only sign of his disturbance was a slight increase of the pulse at the juncture of his neck, "Where did you hear…" dawning lit up his face, "I talk in my sleep." He whispered.
"Yes you do…and things said under the veil of sleep are never lies…I know all about the accusations brought against you and the fact that you are not guilty…I get the newspaper down here to, you know." Desiree said with a smile. "Your genius in music and art precedes you, Monsieur. It is an honor to meet you."
His face was unreadable. He did not hear the admiration in her voice or the breathy tone with which she spoke to him. All he heard was the fact that she knew who and what he was.
"If you give me one day to get my strength back, I will leave." Erik stated, scathingly, dropping his eyes to the floor and clenching his jaw.
"Leave? Why on earth would I want you to leave?" She exclaimed. "You just tried to commit suicide, Erik…I am not letting you go anywhere." She bent over and kissed his forehead, leaving him awestruck in her wake, "God has a purpose for you being here, and He will reveal His will, in time." He fluffed the pillow and blankets around him and smiled, "Now rest, we will talk later."
She picked up the bowl and spoon, and glided out of the room, leaving him still wondering about the kiss to his forehead. Whatever possessed her to do that?
This woman had lost her husband, was completely destitute, by the looks of things; was very pregnant, with no way of supporting the child…and she still spoke of God with joy in her heart and voice. Erik had never seen such faith.
His eyes were heavy and his head was pounding, so he slipped back down beneath the covers and drifted into another deep sleep. Why was he spared the peace of death this time? Only time would tell.
TBC
