Disclaimer: There is a man who lives inside my soul. His name is Erik. I did not create him, or any of the characters associated with him, so have no legal rights in this regard whatsoever. However, I do own the right to dream...and I can spin new dreams about him...
Chapter 2: The Voice of Innocence
Christine shook her head gently to clear away the memories, at least for the moment. She knew that they would periodically continue to torment her, but this was something she simply had to bear. It was her punishment, she thought in resignation, for having destroyed the two men who had loved her, through her cowardly indecision...
Her little son stirred uneasily, grasping her neck more tightly, and she feathered a kiss upon his forehead. Her eyes grew moist as she felt a wave of tenderness overtake her.
"Maman," the child whispered in a melodious lisp, "why are you crying?"
"Oh, Erik!" she cried out, feeling guilty at his having become aware of her darkened mood. "Maman is not sad, sweetheart. It's just that she loves you so much!" She hugged him more tightly to her, stroking his smooth, ebony-shaded hair.
"Is that really why you cry?" he asked seriously, now partially detaching himself from her, to stare into her dark brown eyes with his golden amber ones. He even has his father's eyes, she thought wistfully. She was grateful that he had inherited no trace of deformity, although she would have loved him just the same if he had. But no, his face was angelically beautiful. She wondered if he looked as his father would have, had destiny been less cruel to him...
She now gazed at him in stunned silece. He was showing unmistakable signs of a precociousness that could have come from only one source. Already he had demonstrated a keen aptitude for music. Christine sang to him often, and he was able to reproduce the melodies he heard from her exactly, the very first time she sang them. His curiosity was insatiable. Christine had found herself wondering, on more than one occasion, whether his child's brain was able to comprehend adult conversations. She was sure of the answer now, and resolved to be more discreet when speaking with others in his presence.
"Does it make you sad to see your Maman cry, my little man?" she asked him, smiling through her tears.
"Yes...I don't like it when you cry." His face was so solemn that she felt her heart turn over.
'Well, you don't have to see me cry any more, Erik," she whispered. "Here. Can you wipe away your Maman's tears?" She handed him the handkerchief that she usually kept hidden away in a sleeve of her dress.
He took it from her, and proceeded to wipe her eyes with all the earnestness of innocence. She tried to keep her tears from flowing again as she watched him do this, but it was impossible.
He suddenly sighed in exasperation. "Maman, your tears just keep flowing and flowing!"
Laughing, she gently took the handkerchief from him, and kissed his little forehead soundly.
"It's all right now, sweetheart. See, Maman's tears are stopping now. She is all better!" Attempting to erase his worried little frown, she began to giggle like a little girl, and tweaked his nose. She was finally rewarded by his smile, and then he threw his little arms once more around her neck.
"Come, my little man! You have made your Maman feel so much better! Let us now go to your Aunt Meg's, shall we? You know how much she loves you, do you not?"
He nodded vigorously, grinning broadly at her, and her heart melted. She saw so much of his father in him...but she must not give in to sorrow again. At least she had this precious memento of that one night when Erik the man had tenderly held her in his arms, singing softly to her of his love...a love she had spurned because of her abject cowardice...
"Je t'aime, mon amour..." she whispered, casting her gaze heavenward.
Immediately her budding little genius wanted to know whom she was speaking to.
"Ah, my little darling," she answered sweetly. "I was speaking to our angel in heaven."
His eyes immediately lit up with wonder. "We have an angel in heaven?" His lisping voice was full of awe.
She laughed again, holding him to herself more tightly. "Indeed we do, sweetheart. He is always watching over us. He is our Angel of Music, and it is he who has gifted you with your extraordinary talent."
Again he detached himself from her, to stare at her, open-mouthed. "Truly, Maman?"
"Yes, Erik," she replied, smiling at him, again coming perilously close to tears.
"And...does he have a name, Maman?" His eyes were round with more than childish curiosity.
"Yes...he does, indeed. He is named Erik, just like you." She paused briefly, then decided to plunge ahead. "He was your Papa, but he is with God now. And, he is always with us, too, only we can't see him."
"Oh! But does he hear us? Can we talk to him?"
"Yes, of course. You may talk to him anytime. You may not be able to hear him, but he can certainly hear you. He loves you very much, sweetheart."
He frowned as she said this. "But Maman, why did he go with God and leave us?"
She had to duck her head at this, for she felt tears welling again. "You would not understand this now, Erik. Someday I will explain it to you. Now we had better go before your dear aunt begins to worry..."
"But Maman..." She shook her head, smiling tightly, and turned to look up at the sky. The rain had been slackening as they spoke. Holding her son more closely in her arms, she hailed the first passing brougham.
Once inside, she settled little Erik next to her, hoping that he would not pursue the topic. Her hopes were dashed, however, as he turned his serious little eyes on her again.
"I can understand many things, Maman."
Her mouth hung open as she looked at him. She had underestimated him. Now what would she do? She was casting about for an easy excuse to extract her from this difficult conversation that she herself had blundered into, when her own little son incredbibly came to her rescue.
"I can understand that this is difficult for you to talk about, so I will stop asking you questions about it."
She had to stifle an involuntary gasp. Had his father also astounded his own mother in this fashion? She smiled at him, answering as if he were a little adult.
"Thank you, Erik. I appreciate that." She couldn't stop smiling with pride. "Could you possibly become a little boy again, just long enough to allow your Maman to play horsy with you?"
He squealed in delight. "Oh, yes!" And he jumped into her arms with childish abandon.
