Mariee Chapter 6

Erik was glad for the shade that the almond trees provided. The slanting sunlight on this April afternoon was surprisingly warm. His pale skin was not accustomed to the harsh rays and he would be reddened with sunburn tomorrow. Erik wondered where he would go from here. There were plenty of opera houses worth haunting in Italy. Perhaps there was a guild he would be required to join.

The brook's rushing waters danced and bubbled, creating a delightful, musical sound. He hung his jacket over a low branch and prepared to take his boots off. It would feel so good to wade in that cool stream…

A shadow fell across Erik's face. Christine! The flowing water had muffled her footsteps. Erik sprang to his feet, ready to flee, but stopped. She was here. He would not run from her, no matter how much she might despise him. He raised his face, such as it was, to look Christine in the eye.

"It appears, Mademoiselle Daae, that I have kidnapped you twice in one month."

Christine stood as still as the stone Madonna in the convent's courtyard. Tears welled in her eyes, and were reflected in his own. Then, slowly, Christine sank to the ground, overcome by shock, and relief, and a very heavy wedding gown.

"Angel, forgive me. For everything," were the first words from the weeping girl's mouth.

Erik had not expected to hear an apology.

"There is nothing for me to forgive. You are the one sinned against. I have wronged you so deeply that I can never atone enough for it." Erik longed to go to Christine, to hold her, to comfort her and dry her tears. But no, he must not. His task was finished. He had freed his love and he must allow her to choose a new life. Without him, of course.

"Raoul told me you were dead. That's why I said yes to him. I didn't know--" Christine raised her tear-streaked face to meet his gaze. She couldn't look at him enough; he was alive! He was her rescuer, her protector still.

Every nerve in Erik's body screamed at him to take the delicate girl in his arms. Instead, he took a step back. "Christine, you are a young woman bursting with life. You are made for life. All I could offer you was a miserable existence of darkness, clouded by a murderer's countenance."

"Why do you call yourself that?" Christine snapped, surprising herself with her reaction.

"The tenor. He did not deserve my cruelty." Eric dropped his eyes to the ground. The sight of the strangled singer dangled before him for a terrible moment.

"Oh, you don't know!" Christine looked up at Erik, and a tiny smile began to play about her lips.

"Know what?" Erik asked, puzzled.

"Piangi did not die! You frightened him so badly that he passed out cold. His neck never broke." Christine ruefully shook her head at the memory.

"Really? I thought surely…" Could this be true?

"He will live to pinch many more bottoms." Erik caught Christine's eye. They each gave a soft, knowing laugh. Piangi's predilections were notorious at the Opera.

Erik sobered. "But the fire must have taken many lives?"

Christine again shook her head. "No, Angel. The only good thing about the gendarmes' presence that night was their usefulness. They got everyone out. A few people suffered from the smoke, but no one died."

A shaft of sunlight took that moment to stream in through the trees, falling directly on Erik's face. Christine saw a weight slip from his broad shoulders in that instant. Erik had suffered greatly, believing that he had taken innocent life. He looked at Christine intently.

"You know that I never intended for Buquet to die, don't you? He slipped and became entangled in the flies." Christine put her hand to her mouth. "My sin is that I didn't try to save his life, Christine. So that is one death I truly own."

He had other deaths on his soul, but decided to confess them on another day.

"We have all done terrible things. I betrayed you like Judas, my angel." Christine's lip began to quiver again.

"No, Christine. I think you saved my life."

"How so?" Christine was now too confused to cry.

"The unmasking is the climax of Don Juan Triumphant. Aminta unmasks the Don and casts him away from her in scorn, correct?"

"Yes, we rehearsed it for weeks that way. It was supposed to be ironic."

"The police would have had a clear shot at me, had you not embraced me."

Christine pondered this for a moment. On that stage, high on the catwalk, she had been in a world of music and emotion. Nothing mattered, only the opera and her Angel.

"I think my heart knew what my mind could not, Angel. I couldn't bear the thought of anyone hurting you. And yet," Christine dropped her eyes to the rushing water, "that is what I did to you."

Erik understood then that Christine was truly consumed by the guilt she felt. Look at the poor thing! She was thinner than he had ever seen her, pale in the afternoon sun. Dark shadows were smudged below her eyes, her lovely eyes.

"If it will set your heart at rest, Christine, please be assured that I hold no grudge, no fault against you. You trusted me for so many years." Erik fought back the tears that were rising in his throat. He could do this. He would be a man. "I can only hope that you will some day be able to forgive the many wrongs I have done you."

"Freely and fully. They were wiped away the moment I saw you again." Christine and Erik, as one, expelled tremendous, heart-rending sighs. The past had been laid to rest.

They watched the horses graze for a while. The breeze picked up and showered a flurry of almond blossoms upon them, like snowflakes. Erik saw the flowers caught in Christine's luxuriant hair. He would like to sketch her that way…

Erik was amazed that he was so calm. Christine was with him. Quietly. Tranquilly. As though they were friends. This was an impossible thing.

Then, another impossible thing happened.

Christine patted the soft moss beside her. "Come and sit with me," she invited, extending her hand. Gingerly, Erik arranged himself on the brook's edge, careful to neither touch Christine or step on her gown.

"I think you should know that I'm keeping the money," Christine blurted. "This money has set me free. I am so grateful that I did not marry Raoul. I don't love him."

Erik's head began to reel. "But, why did you leave with him? Why did you choose him instead of me?"

"I tried to…" Christine began to pick at the seed pearls on her gown. "Angel, I thought you were going to kill him. You both were so angry, someone was surely going to die. I tried to tell you without words."

"Tell me what?"

"I kissed you twice and gave you my ring. Didn't that tell you anything?"

Erik took a long look at Christine. "You have changed. You know your mind better now."

Christine smiled at this. "I know practically nothing. I read music better than I read books. I read books better than I read people. Do you realize, I don't know your real name!"

Erik shook his head. How utterly symbolic of everything that he had done wrong! All the lies, the elaborate deception as the 'Angel of Music', the threats and manipulations, could be summarized in that pitiful statement: the woman he loved didn't even know his name.

"My name is Erik." Somehow, Christine's hand had crept into Erik's. He stroked it for a perfect, blissful moment, and then gave it back to her.

"Christine, you have been through too much. I cannot distort your thinking any longer. This is why I have brought you to the Carmelites. You may stay here as long as you wish." Erik rose to his feet with difficulty. If he didn't go now, he would never have the strength. "They will hide you from Raoul or anyone else. You will have the freedom to choose a new life, a life with hope. I do pray to your God that you choose a life of music."

Christine arose with a great effort. The gown was getting heavier by the minute. "Erik, you're not leaving, are you?" She clutched at his arm. He did not have the force of will to take it away.

"The horses must rest tonight. I will sleep in the stables and be gone at first light." Don't touch her face. Don't kiss that perfect, precious mouth, you fool. Let her go.

Christine bit her lip thoughtfully. "Let me be sure I understand you correctly. You wish for me to choose my own path?"

Erik nodded. "I only want what is truly in your heart," he murmured in her ear.

"Will you respect my choice?" Her eyes sought his out, seeking assurance.

"Always." Even if I never see you again, he thought.

"Will you accept my choice?"

"I must."

Christine looked at this man, so tall and straight, with the most fervent heart and profound gifts she had ever known. She looked at his mask; through his mask to the sad, misshapen features that had cursed his life; through the deformed face and into his very soul.

One more question hung in the air.

"Do you love me, Erik? Please, tell me truthfully." Christine forgot to breathe. Depending on the answer, she would never want to breathe again.

"With all my heart," Erik softly whispered. "For all my life."

Christine took her hand from Erik's arm. "Then I know what I must choose."

With a final burst of energy, Christine gathered her skirts and ran back to the convent.