The Light of His Life
Disclaimer: Don't own POTO… but I do own Piers.
A/N: All my reviewers, I owe you my thanks. When people ask me to update something in particular, I find that I do… so this is for everyone who wanted The Light of His Life updated next. Enjoy!
Please read and review…
Chapter 9: Two Proposals, a Burial, and an Almost-Wedding…
Christine was scared to go back out there… she'd just rejected him. No, worse… she'd just spent at least ten minutes discussing some weird form of marriage between them while kissing him rather intimately and then she twisted his poor heart in front of him and rejected him. She was beyond cruel…
And now she was dressed and ready to leave, but she was scared to walk back out into the hotel room and find him wailing his poor heart out, or smashing things… or not there at all. But she could hardly do any good standing in a bathroom all day, could she? And Meg would wonder what was up…
Oh, Meg… what would she tell her? She couldn't very well go out there and tell her and Mrs. Giry that Erik had just proposed to her in the bathroom, could she? Oh, goodness, no – never. She wouldn't betray Erik in such a way – she would never humiliate him like that.
Squashing her stupid pride, she bit back a sob of frustration and opened the bathroom door, stepping out into the harsh cool of the air.
"Well, thank goodness for that," Meg mumbled, "we thought you'd died in there. But don't mind me – I've only been waiting an hour to use the bloody loo…"
She jumped slightly at the sound of Meg slamming the door behind her and tried to make better use of her senses when she noticed her masked Angel sitting on the made-up sofa bed by the window. His hands were resting lightly on his knees and he was not looking at anything in particular – though he looked up at her when she came to stand directly in front of him. "Erik."
"I'm going to reception to look at the brochures…" Ada announced. "Meg will catch me up… We'll be back in ten minutes."
Nodding, Christine turned back to face her heartbroken Angel. He was ever-so-beautiful, she thought, with his expressive and longing blue eyes and his lips, which she'd so enjoyed kissing just a few moments ago. "Beautiful Angel…" she said as she stroked her palm across his jaw.
"Don't, Christine," he muttered dejectedly, looking away from her in despair, though he could not prevent himself from hugging her hand to his face. "I can't bear this."
Vaguely, they heard the sound of Meg disappearing out of the door after her mother and Christine leaned down in front of him, showing him with great leisure what she wanted. And finally, she did kiss him again, revelling even as he fought with himself not to allow her to use him like this. A stray tear broke free and ran slowly down along his cheek from his closed eye. It only spoke the pain he was feeling even as he experienced the joy of kissing her. "Christine…" he sobbed, breaking down upon her shoulder.
And she held him… held him until he had completely cried himself out and then she kissed him again, her common sense be damned. And she kept kissing him until he responded to her kisses in like. It was beyond her how she'd rejected him one moment and had the audacity to start kissing him again the next. All she knew was that she wanted to be with him right now…
Sitting on his lap, brazenly, on the sofa bed, she wrapped her arms around his neck and continued in her quest to make him more breathless than if he'd run a hundred marathons in the last hour. "Harder."
"What?" he asked, confused beyond belief, having been concentrating on nothing besides those lips she was assaulting him with.
"Harder," she commanded again.
He complied as well as he could and somewhere his subconscious started a list, for him to be able to check back with, of what she liked in the way of kisses. And then he found himself becoming a tangle of limbs with her in a way that was not quite what he had wanted… she was desperately crawling over him in an effort to extricate herself from him before Ada and Meg, whom she could hear unlocking the door, saw them in that compromising position.
Unsure whether she'd succeeded or not, Christine leaned back against the wall, Erik sitting about three feet away from her, both of them looking a little ruffled. Meg looked puzzled at the unusual distance between the two of them and shook her head, sitting down upon her own bed. She couldn't be bothered trying to figure out those two – they were far too strange when they were together.
Eventually, the wet area on her back where her hair had soaked through became too annoying for Christine and she was just about to get up to take care of it when Erik spoke to her.
"Come here, let me help you." He pulled her back to sit on the edge of the sofa between his knees and picked up her discarded towel to gently dry her hair for her. And, oh, he had always loved her hair…
'Heavenly' could not even begin to describe how it felt as this seventeen-year-old piece of perfection hung all over him. It was not that he had any improper thoughts about her in this instance, no, but merely that the situation they were in was making him feel very peaceful… the way he imagined that a man might feel with his wife of forty-odd years – still hopelessly in love but also so connected to each other that the mere presence of her beside him made everything seem more beautiful. He could only be too glad that he had already found that with his beloved, though she was obviously unaware of such thoughts as she hugged her arm more tightly around his shoulders.
"You're awfully quiet, Angel…"
"Am I?" he smiled as serenely as he could at her, suddenly feeling very tired.
"I haven't worn you out, have I?" she laughed, rearranging herself on his knee.
Honestly, Erik wasn't so sure that she hadn't… though, perhaps she'd worn him out in a way she was not aware of. The peace she offered him was, after all, making him sleepy, and really was nothing to do with their afternoon activity. He had always prided himself on being able to keep up with her no matter what strange or tiring thing she decided to drag him into… but it was another thing swimming with her. It was far, far too calming for him…
She was perched on his knee in the shallow end, using him as a make-shift chair as she rested from her recent flurry of activity and he couldn't help but become distracted with her hair – it wrapped around him like the finest of gossamer… coiling around his waist, sweeping across his shoulder… tickling his chest. He loved it… It was the most tender thing in the world, being wrapped up in the soft comfort of his love's hair. He couldn't exactly explain it, but he found it to be very intimate…
"I would hardly call it being worn out, what you do to me… though, I am tired, now that you mention it, my dear."
"Would you like to go inside, Angel? We could get dried off, then I'll make you some tea and you can lie down… perhaps we could even lie on the sofa together in front of the fire," she smiled encouragingly at him and then slipped off of his knee, finding it was actually getting quite cold anyway.
"I love it, sweetheart. What a wonderful idea!" And he was just out of the pool, going to retrieve Christine's towel for her so that she wouldn't get too cold between getting out of the pool and having it on, when he found himself accosted with the presence of someone so very unwelcome.
"Christine…"
"Oh, hello, Raoul," Christine smiled sweetly, waving to him from where she treaded the water, keeping her shoulders beneath within its comforting warmth.
"I knocked but there was no answer and then I thought you might be round the back on such a great day…"
"Mmm," she agreed. "Angel thought we might enjoy a nice, relaxing swim… now he's so relaxed, he's tired." She laughed genuinely at his dearness and was just about to exit the pool when Erik placed a firm hand on her shoulder, refusing to allow her to get out in her swimsuit in front of that boy.
"Well, if you're not tired, why don't I join you and he can go inside…"
Erik's hand twitched violently in the towel he was holding and he was just about ready to throttle the boy. No way in hell was he going to allow Raoul to get into that pool with Christine, to see her just in her swimsuit or to even think about getting into the position they had just vacated! No one else could have her hair! It was his! And so was she… all of her – from that hair down to her perfect little toes. He'd die before he'd ever allow another to touch her or see her. And he'd do more than that before he would give up lying on the sofa in front of the fire with her.
"Thanks, Raoul, but I'm all wrinkly anyway and I'm getting cold…"
Silently Erik made a mental note to take Christine somewhere lavish for being just so lovely and turning the boy down. And then he successfully followed through a complicated manoeuvre of getting Christine out of the pool without being seen, much to Raoul's dismay.
Erik now had no intention of going to sleep and instead decided he would spend the next hour slowly and gently drying his love's hair while they sat together.
What could he say…? It had become somewhat of a habit since then…
Having finished drying the back of her hair enough so that it was no longer soaked through, he turned her around to face him so that he could dry the front and the sides of her hair without getting the towel in her eyes. "What's wrong?" he asked, seeing the strange look she was giving him.
She shook her head and lowered her gaze to his shoulders while he continued. She didn't know what to do now that she was having second, or was it third, thoughts about kissing him. But she had no right because she'd seemingly led him on not once now – but twice. So seeing the look of tenderness in his eyes, she felt guilty and frowned. "I'm sorry."
"What for?" he asked softly, not really paying attention with the whole of his consciousness as he continued to dry her hair.
"For kissing you like that…" she whispered to him, so that the other occupants of the room would not hear her.
"I thought you kissed very well actually," he commented matter-of-factly, also in a hushed voice. "You were perfect."
She blushed and shook her head. "Thank you… but that's not what I meant. I meant that I shouldn't have kissed you at all."
"Was I not very good, Christine?" He was terrified that she would tell him that they'd been so right for each other until she'd experienced his kisses… that he'd just not been good enough. But then, why would she seek him out from the bathroom just to kiss with him unless he was passable? "You were very responsive," he commented, trying to convince himself that he had not totally blown his chances with her because he couldn't kiss well.
She blushed even redder at that and shook her head again. "Angel, I've never tasted anything sweeter than you," she replied honestly and a shiver of delicious pleasure ran through Erik. "But I still shouldn't have kissed you… We… our relationship… it's complicated."
"I know that it is complicated and that it confuses you… but I cannot help my feelings for you. If I'd let you go back with Mrs. Giry, do you think this would be easier for you? Because I think you would believe me a strange old acquaintance of your guardian's, who was coming on to you too strongly…"
"I admit, I would be wary of you if I didn't know you the way that I do… but it is because of how we know each other that this is so strange."
"When we were kissing, did you find it repulsive?"
She blinked, taking a moment to truly think it through… and she could never have called it repulsive – never – for he was better than she could ever have dreamt. "The opposite, Angel…"
"Then what's wrong with it? Tell me and I'll fix it…"
"You're my teacher," she sighed, wishing that that had been their only problem.
"I'll resign." He was ready to do anything if it meant they could be a couple… and while he would miss her terribly during the day, he knew it wouldn't be for long, and it would all be worth it if they could come home and be together as they should.
But Christine would never let him do that. She wouldn't let him give up his whole career for a love-affair with his charge. And she'd miss him too much for that anyway… "You're my foster father," she tried next, to show him how unlikely it was for them.
"That will terminate when you turn eighteen in a few months…"
A little shocked at him having an answer for everything so quickly, she hit his chest not hard enough to hurt him, and moved a bit further away from him in her anger. "Did you plan for this?" she asked incredulously.
"For what?" Erik was confused… what had he said now that had offended her so?
"Did you plan for us to be together when you first fostered me? You seem to have covered every eventuality…"
He shook his head and took hold of her hand. "Not consciously… but I have always loved you."
Christine bowed her head and tried to think of a way to tell him how she was feeling without hurting him too greatly. "I think… I think that, until we… until we've sorted things out and I've finished school – until I can think things through… I don't think we should do anything more intimate than we usually do…"
He was devastated more than he could say, and he could feel the lump slowly raising itself in his throat, but he loved her too much to argue. "I… I will honour your wishes, my love."
"Shall we go to breakfast now? Give Meg and her mother a break…"
"Happily…"
"We're going for breakfast now," Christine called, slipping her coat on as Erik helped her, leaving quickly.
Shaking her head, Meg thanked goodness that she didn't have to watch her best friend be fawned over by her guardian, though she still would rather her friend not be out of her sight with that man. Truly she did not trust Erik Phelps-Jones. Ada, meanwhile, was a bit disappointed by the imminent leaving of her daughter's best friend – she had always thought of Christine as a daughter as well, however estranged, and she also did not look forward to being alone with Meg for the rest of the holiday. Meg would be sulking and annoyed that she was now on holiday just with her mother… but what could she do? So, walking into the bathroom to see if there was anything in there to explain Erik and Christine's stranger behaviour in the last few minutes, she noticed the message Christine had obviously written on the mirror. Though faded, it was still legible and she found herself smiling despite it all. That was not to say she understood a word of it… Christine and Erik had always had their very own private jokes and statements that would mean nothing to anyone else but would make the pair of them blush to matching shades of mauve.
"You said forever wasn't long enough…"
Sobbing, Young Christine ran straight into the comforting arms of her Angel, who was waiting for her in the teachers' car park and rather surprised to find the girl barrelling herself into his chest in tears. "What's wrong?" he asked instinctively, wrapping his arms around her as tightly as he could without making her uncomfortable.
He leaned back against the car, holding her as she cried and then he peeled her back from his chest to wipe the drying tears from her cheeks. "Tell me."
"They said no one would ever want to marry me…"
Surprising her completely, he dropped to bended knee right in the middle of the car park without needing to stop and think about it. "Christine Daaé… you've lit up my life… you are the very love of my life," he said truthfully, holding her left hand delicately in both of his. "I am filled with happiness the second you come into view and I am desolate when I do not have you near. Christine Daaé… will you marry me?"
"Yes, Angel," she said after a pause in which she studied the dear man who would do so much and go so far to make her happy.
He stood up slowly and kept hold of her hand, uncaring that a few teachers had stopped to watch as they got into their cars. "See… you had someone propose to you long before any of those girls will ever have someone propose – if ever." Then he leaned over her and kissed her cheek close to her ear, pausing to whisper to her, "You forget we are already married."
"What?"
"It was a few years ago… you don't remember, I see. You were a summer bride… it was on the patio… you actually asked me to marry you… I can honestly tell you, I've never been happier… we wed, Christine, and you don't remember… but at least you know those girls were very wrong."
"I'm sorry, Angel… I do remember, truly I do. It just slipped my mind – I have not thought about it in a while," she admitted, trying to console him.
He nodded and tried to smile for her. He couldn't explain why it hurt him so much that she had forgotten, even briefly, that they had been bride and groom in a fake wedding ceremony when she was much younger. He thought about it nearly every day – not always consciously… but he did think of her as his wife – so it hurt him that their 'wedding' had meant so little to her.
"How did I ask you?"
"Hmm?" He had distracted himself so with destructive thoughts that he had not heard her question him.
"How did I ask you to marry me?" she repeated as they got into their car and started off.
"I was lying in bed, sweetheart," he said fondly, remembering. "And you came bounding into my room and jumped on me, climbing over me in your haste to tell me what you wanted to do that day. You grasped my hand and you said…" He paused, clearing his throat as the emotion of the memory started to choke him. "You said you loved me… and you wanted to be a bride today and that you'd chosen me to have the great honour of first refusal to be your groom. Of course, you used different words… but you asked me if I'd want to marry you and you slid a sticky sweet ring onto my ring finger when I accepted your proposal." He screwed his face up in imitation of revulsion when, really, he had found it charming. "It was disgusting… but loveable. I had to keep it on all day to make you happy – but I did it gladly. You don't know this but I had an engagement ring commissioned the next day to commemorate the one you had given me… I wear it over my heart on a chain around my neck. It is for you when you are older."
"Erik," she said so clearly that he was surprised and turned to her momentarily.
"What's wrong?"
"That has got to be the single most beautiful sentiment in the entire world." They shared a look that said more than he could at that moment and she found herself raising her Angel's pedestal even higher in her perception. "You know that I don't believe in divorce," she smiled cheekily at him, and he could not help returning the gesture.
"No… nor do I," he laughed, waiting to see what she was leading to.
She drew circles on her lap with the tip of her finger, biting her bottom lip as she had her fun drawing it out. "I suppose that means you're stuck with me… forever."
As they stopped at traffic lights, he looked over at her for a long moment, suddenly turning the light teasing into an entirely serious conversation. "Forever isn't nearly long enough."
"Would you like some orange juice?" Erik asked as they sat down to their continental breakfast at a table towards the side of the restaurant.
"Thank you…" she nodded, holding her glass out for him. She looked at him curiously as he started eating next to her and she really couldn't pull her eyes away from him. "Why are you being so nice to me?"
He wrinkled his forehead and stared over at her. "Why shouldn't I be nice to you?"
"Erik, I'm sorry, I–"
"I don't wish to speak of it."
"Erik–"
"No, do not mention it. It never happened."
She felt so guilty she wanted to let him do what he liked, but she thought that burying their heads in the sand was not exactly a permanent measure. "You're hurting, Erik… and it's my fault. Let me take some of it away."
"You must think very highly of yourself if you believe I can't do something as simple as eat breakfast civilly, just because you don't want me the way I want you." Of course, he couldn't… but that was not the point.
She reached over and squeezed his arm comfortingly, offering a sympathetic smile. "You have every right to be angry… I don't mind if you have to shout at me – though, perhaps once we're home."
"I am not angry at you. You had every right to reject a hideous creature like me in the cruellest way you could think of…"
"Oh, my Angel…" she said sadly. "I haven't rejected you… I told you that. I just don't want you to get in trouble."
"So you say…" he mumbled.
Playing with her knife nervously, Christine found her courage at the moment sufficient to ask him a question she'd been wanting to. "Do you find me attractive?"
"Don't play with my heart, Christine," he warned, staring pointedly at her, though he could not ever muster enough anger at her to pull his arm away from her touch.
"I'm not playing. I think you are the most handsome man in the world…" she admitted. "Do you find me pretty?"
"'Pretty' would not even begin to describe your beauty."
Forever, she thought sadly. It'll pass like a walk in the park. Why waste time when forever will never be enough? "Nobody knows us in Florence," she stated suddenly.
"What does that mean?" Erik was confused… first they had been talking about breakfast and then his attraction towards her – and now they were talking about their lack of acquaintances in a country they did not even live in. He wished she would include him in the little conversations she had with herself when she was jumping between subjects.
"We never did have a honeymoon…"
"What?" Could she say nothing that would make sense?
"You think I don't remember when we 'got married'… but I do – and I also remember we didn't have our honeymoon."
"If you are going to torment me, Christine, at least have the decency to do so in language I will understand."
"Shush, Angel," she reprimanded softly, squeezing his hand this time. He felt like he'd been told off for something and he had absolutely no idea what he'd done. "Have you paid for the flights yet or only reserved them?"
"I paid a reservation fee, that's all… why?"
Happy that her spur-of-the-moment plan was working so far, she jumped up and started tugging lightly on Erik's arm. "Let's go back upstairs and tell them we're going home… and then take our things to a hotel a few hours away. We can stay for the remainder of the trip together."
"Stay in Florence together?" he asked confusedly, still where she left him lost in their conversation about five questions back.
"Why not?"
"You're sure? Please tell me I'm not reading something into you wanting to stay here with me…"
She shook her head and smiled in her certainty. "You aren't, Angel… and I promise to be open with you while we are here. I'm staying because I'd like to be able to work out my feelings for you."
Satisfied, he nodded and took her hand as they went upstairs to do as she'd said. He was already so sure in his feelings for her.
Yawning, a recently awakened Erik had just gone down to the kitchen early that morning, quiet in his weariness. Surprisingly, his little seraph had not jumped on him to wake him up… in fact, he had not seen her at all that morning. And while he had only been up a scarce few minutes, he was already missing her terribly. Yes, he would go up and see her just as soon as he'd finished. He was standing by the kitchen window in his bathrobe, pausing in rinsing his mug out as he yawned and looked out at the back garden and then he noticed… the rain was pelting down and he was quite surprised to find that his little Christine was standing stock still on the grass.
Of course, he rushed outside to her and turned her to face him, terrified that she would get ill out there in the cold and the wet, and he had absolutely no idea just how long she'd been there. Slowly, he brushed some of her tangled, drenched hair away from her forehead and pressed her against himself. "What are you doing?" he asked worriedly. "Has something happened? Christine, you're scaring me…"
"Angel, you're crushing him," Christine complained, struggling lightly against him.
Surprised, Erik let go of her and crouched down so that he was more level with her to see what she was talking about. And though the heavy rain slightly obscured his vision, he noticed what appeared to be a long stuffed toy in her arms. "What's this?" he asked, coaxing her arms open so he could understand better what was going on. And he managed to persuade her to turn the little dead weasel over to him while he tried to take in the situation properly. "Christine… what were you doing with this?"
"He was lonely, Angel…" she whispered sadly, prying the little creature back out of Erik's hands.
"Sweetheart…" he started, unsure of how to tell her. He was not sure, even, how much she knew of death that she could understand. "He's not lonely… he is dead, little love."
"He was lonely, Angel, lying in the mud… he deserves to be buried."
"How about we wait until it stops raining, and then we can give him a proper burial, hmm?"
"I'm surprised at you, Angel… he deserves the same respect in death as he deserved in life."
"When did you become such a mature young woman?" he laughed, and then stopped himself quickly as he saw her seriousness. "Alright… I'll get a spade; you pick the place you want to bury him."
Returning quickly, he asked her if she'd made up her mind yet and found himself surprised that she wanted him buried right next to the house. "Why not at the top of the garden where there'll always be flowers on his grave?"
"Flowers are pretty, Angel, but they are for the living. Here, he will be near the house's warmth and the window to the music room is just up there… that he will always have."
"You have a wisdom quite beyond your years…" he murmured proudly. "Your ability to empathise with anyone still astounds me, little one. Tell me… why do you care so much?"
"Because, Angel," she started, and she looked at him with such clarity that it would have surprised him in a fully grown adult, let alone a young child. "He has to put up with it for an eternity… I can't let him suffer."
"You are so loving, aren't you? Come, let's go inside and get you dried off… we'll have hot chocolate and sit in front of the fire. I'll sing a requiem for your weasel at bedtime."
"I love you, Angel. No one else would understand."
"Oh, my sweet Christine," he smiled, taking hold of her little hand as they started towards the door. "I love you."
"The way you complained about him being here, you'd think you'd be glad to see them go…" Ada commented as she watched her daughter mope in the hotel room the day after Christine and Erik had left.
"They're not answering," Meg complained, ignoring her mother's observation. "I'm going to call his friend… get him to check up on them. Do you have a number?"
"For Piers? I should do, somewhere here…" And she rifled through her handbag until she came across her address book. "Ah. Found it…"
Dialling the number, Meg waited impatiently as it rang and just caught herself before she sighed in relief when he answered. "This is Meg Giry… I was wondering if you'd heard from Christine and Erik yet."
"No, I haven't… they aren't back yet."
"What do you mean? They went home yesterday…"
"Well, they aren't here. I thought they would be so I went round a few times, but they're not there – Erik's car isn't in the driveway, there are no lights on, and he hasn't answered the door like he usually does when he gets fed up of the ringing…"
"Well, thanks anyway."
"Of course."
Saying goodbye, they both hung up and Meg turned to her mother with a frustrated expression. "He says they're not there."
"How can they not be there when they left yesterday? It doesn't take a whole day to get from Italy to England."
"Don't ask me…"
"But why would they stay?"
Suddenly, something changed in Meg's expression and she turned back to the phone, Ada watching her daughter as she looked up a number and dialled out. "Uh, hello… I seem to have misplaced all of my flight information – I'd like confirmation on when I have to be at the airport. My name is Christine Daaé… I'll be travelling with Erik Phelps-Jones. The tickets should be under his name." Ada watched still as her face lit up and she smiled. "Wonderful. Thank you," she finished, hanging up. "I don't know where they are… but I know where they'll be and when they'll be there."
"Do you, Christine Daaé, take Raoul de Chagny as your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others as long as you both shall live?"
"I–"
"Stop this travesty at once," Erik shouted, barging in on the little dress-up wedding ceremony being held between Christine and Raoul, with some of her other friends present, just in time to prevent her from committing adultery and bigamy, he believed.
"What's wrong, Angel?" she asked innocently, looking up at him with those wide, unassuming eyes that could make him do anything for her.
But he could not let that happen this time… the hurt was just too much. He placed his hands on her shoulders and resisted the urge to shake her until she relented. "How dare you do this with him when you have already taken vows with me?"
"Angel… I don't understand," Christine blinked confusedly. "This is just make-believe… Raoul and I aren't getting married."
"Do these words mean nothing to you?" he shouted at her, holding her firmly, while consumed with revulsion at the sight of her wearing the same dress she had worn at their 'wedding'. "You can't just say them to one person one day and then another the next! There is a sanctity in marriage… it is a union between two people – not whomever you happen to feel like that day."
As young as they were, the other children did not much enjoy hearing an adult in such a rage and they ran off to play somewhere he wasn't. Which made Christine cry, of course, and Erik looked once at her tears in those precious eyes and his anger evaporated. He'd made her cry and her friends run off… she was just eight years old and he'd ruined her day over such a little thing. He was ashamed of himself. "I'm sorry… please, don't cry. I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean to shout at you… and I'm not angry at you. I just… I love you so much and I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."
He pulled her against himself and buried his hand in her hair, pressing her into his chest tightly. Then he crouched down in front of her and pulled her hands into his. "This ring," he said, pointing to the little finger of his left hand. "This ring I bought when you first came to stay with me, so that I could give it to you when you were old enough… I wear this ring for you, Christine. I wear it as a symbol of my fidelity."
She looked at him curiously, not completely understanding. And she told him so in her child-like innocence that so flattered him towards her.
"Darling… it only means that I love you too much to ever let anyone come between us. As an example, how would you like it if I put on the pretence of marrying another?"
"I'd hate it," she answered honestly.
"Good girl," he smiled, kissing each of her palms individually. "Stay faithful to me as I stay faithful to you."
"Angel?"
"Yes?"
"I'll promise never to marry Raoul if you buy me some ice cream…" she smiled mischievously, as though she'd gotten away with a naughty deed.
Erik looked at her seriously for a long moment and then shrugged his shoulders once, getting up to go and get his coat. It really was a small price to pay for what he would be receiving…
"What are you smiling at?" Christine asked brightly.
"Oh," he started, turning to her as she brought him out of his daydream. "I was just thinking about you…" he finished sentimentally, stroking his hand along her bare forearm as they sat together on the bed in their new hotel room. Christine had convinced him to get them a double room instead of two singles, foregoing completely any pretence over why they were there. She knew they would only tiptoe around each other if they had separate beds and didn't know where they stood in their relationship. Besides… they'd slept in the same beds before. Erik hadn't needed much persuading…
"Why think about me when I'm right here?"
"Sometimes the past is less painful than the present…" he murmured, brushing his lips against her temple.
"It doesn't have to be…"
"What does that mean?" he asked.
"This week together, away from all other distractions, might just do us some good to work out what we want."
"You said two weeks apart would do us good…"
"Clearly, I had taken leave of my senses."
"How do you feel, Christine?" he asked ambiguously. She wasn't sure whether he wanted to know how she felt about him or just how she felt. And she couldn't make herself speak to ask him, choosing to stare simply at him instead. As he noticed something glinting in the light, he looked down. "You're still wearing my ring," he pointed out.
"Yes."
"What does that mean?"
She turned towards him fully and placed both of her hands over his on the pillow serving as an armrest between them, staring down at them until she had the courage to look up at him and was sure of the right words to say. "I love you."
"Oh, Christine…"
"I love you so much…" And she kissed him just to show him and for her own sake – it felt remarkably freeing being able to kiss him without having to account for her actions. "How I love you… but I'm not sure…"
"About marriage?" he asked, quite ready to tell her the proposal could be postponed indefinitely, until she was ready, whenever – and if ever – that occurred.
"About acceptance… I'm not sure how well such news would be received. And you certainly cannot tell anyone until after I've left school or you'll be in a whole world of trouble. And I can't allow that. But… if you can wait until then, I'd… I'd like to be with you."
"Yes. God, yes."
"May I keep the ring until then?" she asked softly, leaning back on the pillows again and replacing her left hand comfortably on his thigh as he held her.
"You may keep my ring and my heart always."
Smiling, she leaned her head back against his chest and snuggled up as he put his arm further around her. They would be alright, she thought. Never did she doubt that… though she might come to find, as with all things, that perhaps she should have.
© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, July 2006
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