Chapter Summary: Tallis and Serge arrive in England and she discovers she is not the only one who is running from an impossible love. After a week spent with Christine, Erik ponders the changes he sees in her. Christine gives him the answers he seeks. Two angels break the bonds on their wings as forgiveness is found and accepted and goodbyes are spoken. And Nico has reached the end of his building and has grown tired of waiting …

CHAPTER FIFTY THREE

Tallis stood still and silent on the dock at Dover, England and watched as a tall, young man directed the loading of trunks onto a private-hire carriage. Her eyes were dull, her complexion pale, the only color coming from the autumn breezes that blew in off the Channel, chilling her cheeks. She was numb, her mind blank, incapable of thought. Tallis could not even find the desire to cry; all she wished was to climb in the carriage and flee to the other side of this new country. She only wished to fling herself into the welcoming arms of family and bury herself there.

"Fraulein?" a male voice called gently to her.

"I am sorry," Tallis said softly as she was pulled from the gray nothingness. She focused on the face before her. "I did not hear you."

Serge nodded his head. "It is understandable. The coach is ready to depart." He held out his hand. "If you would permit me the honor?"

Tallis took his hand and allowed him to help her into the coach. She settled on one of the benches, watching as Serge spoke to the driver before climbing in and taking the bench opposite her. She watched as Serge closed the door, waiting until the rocking motion of the coach settled before tapping lightly on the roof, the coach jolting and moving off at a steady even pace. Tallis studied the folded hands in her lap. "Thank you," she said quietly. "Thank you for being my chaperone. You did not have to do that."

Even though he knew that Tallis could not see it, Serge laid a hand over his heart. "I would never dream of allowing any young lady to travel such a distance without escort! It is not proper and it is certainly not safe. Who knows what monsters lurk in the wide world?"

Tallis raised her eyes at the last remark.

"Forgive me," Serge said. "I meant no offense."

"There is no need for forgiveness for no offense was taken," Tallis assured him and turned to look out the window as the bustling port city of Dover moved past. "He was so much more than the monster of the stories," she sighed.

"Tell me of this man whom you love so much that you would leave him to the arms of another woman," Serge asked.

"What is there to tell," Tallis wondered, her eyes never straying from watching the world move past.

"I am sure there is much to tell."

"There is," Tallis nodded slightly, acceding to Serge's request, giving in to her emotions. "He is complex. He is intelligent and talented. He is run by the moods of his heart but will never admit to that. He can be a beast yet there is such deep compassion within that animal – a compassion he is afraid to show for to do so will mean that he is weak and in need of others. He is afraid to love for that will mean he can be hurt. Yet the capacity he has to love is boundless." Tallis turned to look at the perfect young man who stared at her. "You only have to listen to his music to know that." She sniffled. "I just wish he were not so afraid to let go of what might have been so that he would have been able to face what could have been."

Serge sat quietly for a moment. "You are very wise," he said.

"No I am not," Tallis replied with a shake of her head. "If I were so wise, I would still be in Paris waiting for Monsieur Herrin to return from Boulogne."

"Fraulein," Serge began, "there will always be those in our lives whom we love more than our senses can say. Yet there may come a time when no matter how much we love them we must let them go for their own good. We must not let them cling to us out of desperation; they must come to us out of an honest willingness to be with us."

Tallis tilted her head slightly. "But what if they have known nothing but desperation in their lives? What if they have never truly known what it is to love?"

"Ah, you speak of a child!" Serge replied. "Even a small child must one day walk on its own – away from the loving embrace of its parents. Yet does that child – once it knows it is safe and secure on its own – not return to the parents who love it?"

"I should wish that the child inside the man I love would be that wise," Tallis told him as she lowered her eyes. "But I know that such a wish would be foolish, indeed."

There was no reply from the man who sat watching her. Finally a strange, derisive little sound escaped from between his lips. "You are not the only one who loves a child," he said.

Tallis raised her head, the question in her eyes.

"Her name is Ilse," Serge told Tallis, his eyes focusing on a sight she could not see, a gentle smile beginning at the edges of his mouth. "She is only eighteen and she is very beautiful. She has long blonde ringlets and large blue eyes and a smile that could melt the winter snow. She is very sweet and very innocent – still very much the child. Our engagement has been of long-standing for – while she insists she loves me and wishes to be with me for the rest of our lives – Ilse cannot make up her mind or draw the courage to stray from the safe harbor of her childhood home." Serge once again focused on Tallis. "She, much like your Erik, is afraid to face the uncertainty of the future and insists on clinging to the comfort of the past."

"But you have not left her."

Serge sighed. "I am afraid I have. That is why I was with my cousin and his wife in Paris. That is why Natalya asked her brother if I could join them to celebrate the anniversary; Alexander and Natalya are trying their best to help me forget that sweet child I have the misfortune to love."

Tallis was puzzled. "Misfortune? How could love ever be a misfortune? Even when it disappears, even when it can never be, even when it breaks our hearts, just by having been in our hearts it makes us better than we were before."

A crooked smile crossed Serge's face. "I think you will teach me much over these next few days as we journey forth." He turned to look out at the passing countryside. "Did you know that I am going to be spending time here in England?" He turned back to Tallis. "I am looking for a suitable home to lease for a few months while I think about what it is I want." Serge sighed. "While Ilse thinks upon what it that she wants. Perhaps I can find something not far from where your cousins live." He tilted his head to one side. "Would you come and visit with me were I to do such a thing?"

"I would like that very much, Monsieur," Tallis told him.

"As would I," Serge agreed. "They say that misery loves company and there is always the chance that we can help each other through the sorrow we are both feeling."

"I am not sure that I am miserable," Tallis told him. "Melancholy, perhaps, but not miserable." She smiled slightly. "Still, I would enjoy your company for you understand what it is that I am feeling."

Serge bowed slightly from his waist. "So it shall be done," he said.

"So it shall be done," Tallis echoed his words as she turned to once again watch the English countryside move past the coach windows, wondering what her new life would bring.

Erik, too, wondered what his life would bring as he stood in the back garden of Christine's home, watching the waters of the Channel roll in the distance. He had been with her for nearly a week and there was a definite change in the atmosphere of the house, in Marie's attitude toward him. Most importantly, there was a definite change in Christine; he sensed it the moment she had opened the door to his knock. Christine had greeted him with genuine warmth, almost as if she were glad to see him. He had noted the pronounced increase in the bulge beneath her gown, the softening of angles as her pregnancy added weight to her thin frame. He had seen the gentle glow in her eyes that radiated outward, changing every aspect of her. Yet that gentleness was tempered by something that Erik had not at first recognized. It was only over the last several days, as he watched Christine, walked with her, conversed with her, that he had come to know what it was that he had seen. That sweet glow, the gentleness, was tempered by a resigned sorrow that seemed to have aged Christine in muchthe same way that a fine wine ages over time. It had rounded her out, maturing her, completing her growth, turning her into something rich and mellow – it had turned her into a woman.

"What is happening?" Erik wondered to himself.

"What is happening where?" Christine asked as she approached him.

Erik turned to face her. "With you. With me." He was silent for a moment. "With us," he finished quietly.

"There is something," Christine told him. "We need to talk for there is something I wish to say to you."

Erik turned and pulled out one of the wrought iron café chairs from beneath the outside table.

"No," Christine told him as she moved to his side and slipped her arm into his. "Let us go into the parlor."

A worried look crossed Erik's face as Christine began to lead him into the house and she laughed at it.

"Do not be such a worry-wort," she told him. "Words are not always bad or hurtful; there are times when they can be of great release and comfort."

Erik made a grumping sound as he allowed Christine to guide him into the parlor. She walked him over to the sofa and made him sit next to her. He watched as she took both his hands in her own, studying them before raising her eyes, locking them with his. "What is it?" Erik wondered hesitantly.

"I have sent Marie away for the afternoon," Christine began, "for I wished this moment to be justbetween the two of us."

There was something of import happening within the room; Erik could feel it. "I shall listen patiently," he told Christine.

A broad smile brightened Christine's face. "There is a first time for everything!" she said and grew more somber. Christine wet her lips and drew a deep breath before continuing. "Ever since Raoul was murdered I have carried such a weight of anger and guilt upon my shoulders for so many reasons. I was angry with the men who felt they had the right to brutalize and murder him. I was angry with Raoul for leaving the day we had that disagreement as I called after him. And I have been so angry at myself for being so afraid of life!"

Erik opened his mouth and Christine shook her head.

"You promised to remain silent and let me speak," she reminded him before continuing. "Yes, you were the one who created that fear in my heart but it was also my fault. I have been such a child for so many years. I was more than willing to let everyone about me dictate my life, my emotions. It is very frightening to find yourself alone in the world at a young age …"

"As I know all too well," Erik interrupted her.

Christine smiled at him and squeezed the hands she held. "I was so willing to cling to anyone and everyone who would comfort me. I was willing to hide in the security of their emotions so that I would not have to face my own emotions." She studied Erik for a moment. "That night when you ordered me to choose between you and Raoul, you did me a great favor."

Now Erik was confused. "Pardon?"

"That night you made me begin to face myself, you made me quickly search my heart and soul, you forced me to stop being a child and begin to be an adult." Christine managed a small smile. "And I thank you for that." Then she heaved a great sigh, as her smile grew wider and softened; still the sorrow lingered in her face. "A little over a week ago it would have been Raoul's twenty-fifth birthday."

"I did not know," Erik said softly.

"How were you to know?" Christine replied with a shake of her head. "I tell you that because it is part of what has happened, what must be said."

"I shall remain silent."

"Thank you," Christine told him. "I am also five months along with my pregnancy and I have been waiting for something to happen with my child. I have also been waiting for a sign that Raoul has forgiven me for the foolish decision I made that was colored by my fears. My waiting was not in vain." She closed her eyes, a single tear escaping. "Shortly before Raoul's birthday I felt my child move for the first time."

"Christine!" Erik exclaimed. "That is wonderful!"

Christine sniffled and opened her eyes. "It is wonderful," she replied softly, "and it is also heartbreaking."

Erik was puzzled. "Why?"

"Because I have this image of Raoul when I told him that our child was moving." Christine shook her head. "I can hear that silly little laugh of his and see the joy in his eyes. I can almost feel the gentleness of his touch, as he would follow the movement of his child beneath my skin. It breaks my heart to know that Raoul will never actually do that, to know that the memory of this is something I created." The smile returned to Christine's face. "Yet this event has also set me free."

"How so?" Erik wanted to know.

"I have life growing within me," Christine said. "I have a living reminder of what Raoul and I shared tucked warm and safe beneath my heart. And my baby is alive and moving and suddenly so very real and not a distant hope, something that I needed to fear would leave me as everyone else I have ever loved has left. That I felt her began to move shortly before her father's birthday was the sign for which I had been waiting that would say I was forgiven." Christine rolled her eyes and laughed. "I know how ridiculous that sounds but after everything that has happened over these last months, this simple event that every other woman takes for granted, that Raoul and I waited for and wanted so desperately, has transformed me! It is as if Raoul gave me a gift for his birthday – that he is trusting that I am finally adult enough to raise his child to be everything he would ever want it to be – honest and intelligent and compassionate and loving." Christine sighed. "Everything he was."

Erik found himself at a loss for words.

"And because I have been forgiven, I am free to forgive," Christine said gently, taking one of her hands and resting it gently against the marred skin of Erik's face. "For every cruel and horrid thing you did to me and to Raoul, I forgive you – we forgive you."

"Oh God, Christine," Erik breathed, his eyes closing, his heart beginning to break into small pieces.

"I want you to know, to trust, that I mean every word I say. You are forgiven and free. The dark locks on your soul are opened and your spirit is free to soar. I want my angel to spread his wings and fly." Christine's thumb caressed his cheek. "And I want you to open your eyes and look at me."

Erik did as he was told.

"And I want to say that I love you."

Erik choked.

Christine laughed. "Is that such a surprise?"

"As a matter of fact, it is," Erik managed.

"Understand that I loved my husband; I shall always love Raoul," Christine said. "But that does not mean I did not love you, as well. You were the first man who set my heart fluttering, my soul soaring. You showed me that I had the potential to be so much more than just another chorus girl, another young woman full of dreams. You taught me how to dream! You began to create the woman that my husband fell in love with and that is a gift for which I shall be forever in your debt. There is a place in my heart and in my soul that shall always and forever belong to you. They are places that no one shall ever be able to touch, special places full of sacred memories that I shall carry with me till the day I die." Christine took her hand and placed it over Erik's beating heart. "And to know that I loved you is proof that you have the capacity to love, that you are worthy to be loved. Never forget that!"

Erik grabbed her hand and raised it to his lips. "I did love you Christine," he told her. "I did not realize it till the moment when you kissed me, when you were willing to sacrifice your future for Raoul's but I did love you." He smiled. "And, much like you, I think I shall always love you. You shall always be in my heart and in my soul – new as both of them are."

Christine sat silently for a moment. "Go to her," she told Erik. "Go to Mademoiselle Ordogne and hold to her. Keep her in your arms, treasure her, love her for you never know how long she will be in those arms. Do not make the mistakes I have made, please!" Christine pleaded with him. "Do not take for granted that there will always be a tomorrow to say 'I am sorry' or 'I love you' or to try and make up for past mistakes." Christine took back one of her hands to wipe at the tears on her cheeks.

"But what of you?" Erik asked, his eyes straying to her swollen middle. "What of your child? I need to be here! I need to make sure that nothing happens! I need to make sure that you deliver a healthy child!"

"Listen to me!" Christine told him. "I will be fine. Marie is here and her family is here and I have lovely neighbors who are all too willing to help out the young widow."

"But …"

"Just as I have finally let Raoul go, you need to let me go."

Erik shook his head. "But …"

"No," Christine was insistent. "I love you and I loved Raoul. God! How I loved my husband! But I was too young and too foolish to truly appreciate just how much I loved either of you till this moment. And that foolishness destroyed both of you." Christine shook her head as Erik opened his mouth. "You know it is true and do not try to argue with me. I betrayed you that night and it cost lives and it almost destroyed you! And look what my loving Raoul has done – he is dead!" Christine set her lips into a thin line. "No. I will never love again. There will never be another man in my life for I cannot take the chance that my love would destroy them as well."

Erik tilted his head at her. "Now who is it that speaks foolishness?"

"I am determined! I will never love again!" Christine replied and softened her tone. "I have loved and been loved by two of the most incredible men who will ever walk this Earth and that is more than most women will ever have in their lifetimes."

"Christine," Erik said sadly.

"You cannot change my mind, Erik. I am going to have my child here in this land that her father so loved and then we shall go America in the spring and begin a new life" A single hand went over her child. "It shall just be her and I." Christine laughed softly. "And Marie for she is insisting that she must come with us." Christine cupped Erik's face. "It is time to let me go. It is time for each of us to set the other free. It is time to admit that we will always love each other and let that love set our wings flying. It is time to say goodbye."

Erik's hands moved up to hold Christine's wrists. "I do not know that I can," he said.

Christine nodded her head. "You can," she told him as she leaned in for a kiss, drawing back, staring into his pained eyes, her own eyes reflecting the same pain. "Good bye, Erik; may you go with God. May you find the happiness you deserve, the happiness I could never give you, with Mademoiselle Ordogne. May your future be filled with a love that is real and true and will carry you both to eternity. When you think of me, think of me fondly for a brief moment and then put me back into the locked portions of your heart and soul. And never forget that I loved you, that a part of me shall always love you."

"Christine …"

"Say it," she urged him gently.

Erik drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly before reaching in to kiss Christine for a last time. "Goodbye, Christine," he whispered against her lips before drawing back slightly and resting his head against hers. "I shall carry your memory in my heart till the day I die. I shall pray that your child will be healthy and the exact image about which you dream. Know that I am truly sorry for all that I took from you and from Raoul and that I am eternally grateful that you have such a capacity for forgiveness within your soul. I bid you a safe and happy journey through your life and hope that your child will bring you much joy and that your memories of Raoul will bring you comfort. I promise that I shall love Tallis with a depth and sincerity that will honor her." He hugged her close. "And a part of me shall always love you, as well."

Christine sighed and hugged Erik back, each of them feeling their angel wings break free from chains of regret and bitterness and begin to soar free toward the promise of new lives.

And in the south of France, Nico, too, was hugging something, feeling his heart soar.

"Soon," he breathed as his hands caressed the polished wood on the outside. "Soon." He straightened and stared at the long object resting on sawhorses. "Such a pretty toy box," he said softly. "Such a pretty place to put the mess I must pick up." Nico walked around the long box, stopping on the other side, raising the top of the box and feeling the rough, unfinished wood inside. "No time to finish," he said, a decidedly evil smile crossing his face. "No time to finish for comfort." Nico rose and carefully shut the lid, turning his gaze toward the direction of the farmhouse. "No more time left," he snarled.