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Chapter 6: Joyeux Noel from New York
[featuring "Seasons Fly" and "An Obligatory Christmas Chapter"]
Christine begged Erik to visit her often, and he was incapable of denying her anything. Nearly every afternoon, after he'd finished Gustave's lessons, Erik knocked on the door of Christine's bedroom so the two could share tea on her balcony from the comfort of the armchairs. Some days they'd engage in lengthy conversations while other times they'd sit in silence alternating their gaze between the magnificent view and the ever adorable Ayesha curled in the sun. On afternoons when Erik didn't knock on her door, Christine ordered Gustave to hunt him down before the boy scurried out of her bedroom to play on Erik's supposedly magnificent piano; Christine had yet to see or hear the instrument.
"I've been summoned," said Erik from the doorway with a tray of tea things in his hands.
"There you are, Erik!" Christine giggled. "I'm not keeping you from anything, am I?"
"Of course not, Christine," he replied. No amount of work could separate him from the woman he loved if she desired his company.
Erik set the tea tray on a nightstand before dragging the tea table and armchairs onto the balcony as he did everyday. When he returned, Christine reached for him and wrapped her arms around his neck so he could carry her to her seat. He refused to let her walk even though she was sure she could make the short journey onto the balcony.
"Erik, I do have legs, you know," Christine joked.
"Yes, but I'm not convinced you've fully recovered." Erik set her gently into her armchair and stepped away to pour her a cup of tea.
"Thank you." Christine shivered as he placed the steaming beverage in her hand. Her cropped curls had grown long enough to blow around her face and be troublesome, but not long enough to sturdily pin in an updo.
"Are you cold?" Erik asked.
"I suppose a bit-"
Erik rushed inside and returned with the quilt from her bed. He tucked it around Christine's frail body. She thanked him as she drew the blanket tighter around herself. For an added layer of warmth, Erik set Ayesha in Christine's lap, and the cat was more than happy to be stroked by the woman's gentle hand.
"Autumn is upon us," said Erik sadly. "I think this might be one of our last outdoor teas." The trees along the shoreline were aflame with reds and golds, contrasting the dreary grey sky reflecting in the Long Island Sound.
"Oh! What a pity!" said Christine. She sighed as she took a sip of tea and absentmindedly ran her fingers over Ayesha's fur.
Tea inside, however, proved to be as enjoyable as tea on the balcony. Erik was grateful he didn't have to move furniture everyday. His only task was to make sure Christine's fireplace was roaring.
"Do you need help?" he asked as she slid off her bed and walked clumsily to her armchair.
"Erik, I'm okay," Christine insisted. "This journey is even shorter than the trip to the balcony."
"Yes, I suppose." Erik resisted the urge to help her into her chair, but he rushed to grab a blanket from her bed and wrap it around her body. Ayesha clawed at Christine's knees and Erik lifted the cat into her lap.
"It's snowing!" said Christine gleefully. Erik turned around in his chair to look out the window.
"So it is!"
"You know, Erik," said Christine as she stroked the cat's fur. "I am feeling much better these days. Couldn't I leave this room to see the rest of the house?"
"Hmm...no I don't think you are quite well enough yet."
"Erik, I swear you want to keep me an invalid for the rest of my life!" Christine giggled. After caring for her late guardian Mama Valerius for many years, Christine thought invalidity a fate worse than death, but now her mind was changed. If she remained an invalid, she'd never have to write Raoul and tell him she'd recovered; then she'd never have to leave Erik's side. Christine had exchanged letters with her husband, but as yet, there were no concrete plans for her and Gustave's return to France.
"Well it's not that I want you to stay an invalid for the rest of your life," said Erik thoughtfully as he poured Christine a cup of tea. Her ears perked up, certain he was about to express the same thoughts she kept hidden at the back of her mind, but he did not.
"Thank you," she said when he handed her a cup of tea. Ayesha clawed at her wrists so the stroking would continue. "Hold on a moment," Christine muttered to the needy cat before taking a sip of tea.
"I suppose I ought to tell you," said Erik sheepishly. "You cannot come out of this room because Gustave and I are planning a surprise."
"A surprise? For me?" Christine lit up gleefully. "Oh! What is it? Please tell me!" She reached for Erik's arm so she could give it an eager shake, but the man's chair was positioned too far away. Instead, Christine upset the cup of tea in her hand, and Ayesha jumped to the ground, fleeing to her master's feet. Erik laughed and offered Christine his handkerchief to sop up the tea.
"Christine, I can't tell you! It would ruin our surprise!" Erik winked one of his golden eyes before tipping his tea cup back to take a sip.
The anticipation of the surprise provided enough motivation for Christine to stay in her room, but it didn't stop her from aggressively interrogating everyone who entered her chambers. Gustave only came to visit so he could gloat about being in cahoots with Mr. Y, and the lady's maid who helped Christine bathe and dress didn't speak enough French to converse with the invalid woman. The stoic maid only knew she was forbidden from mentioning the activities of downstairs no matter what language she used. Erik, of course, was a brick wall when it came to Christine's incessant guessing.
As the date of Christmas approached, Christine had her suspicions on the nature of the surprise. On the Eve of her favorite holiday, she awoke to a large package in the corner of her room. She tiptoed out of bed to examine the tag.
Christine, do not open until instructed, the tag read. P.S. Get back in bed.
Christine could hear Erik's voice scolding her in her mind.
"Hmph," she said with a scowl as she climbed back into bed. The white box had a slight iridescent sheen that caught the light of the fireplace, and the big red bow tempted Christine for hours until a knock on the door woke her from the nap she hadn't realized she'd taken. She expected the visitor to be Erik for their daily tea, but instead it was the lady's maid. The woman walked over to the gift and placed the package in Christine's eager hands.
"Tiens," said the maid in her awful American accent. She'd already forgotten the longer French phrase Mr. Y had spent several minutes rehearsing with her.
Christine's nimble fingers pulled the red ribbon out of its bow and lifted the lid from the box. She gasped when she saw the contents. The dark green velvet dress was the most beautiful article of clothing she'd ever seen. Christine ran her fingers over the exquisite cream colored lace trim and ogled at the delicate pearl buttons down the front of the bodice. The maid had to pry the garment out of Christine's hands so the no-longer-invalid woman could be bathed for Christmas Eve dinner.
Christine's hair still lacked its previous length and volume, but the lady's maid was able to style something special with her shoulder length tresses. She smiled at her reflection in the vanity mirror of her dressing room as she admired the small chignon at the nape of her neck.
"Merci beaucoup," Christine said in elegant French. The ladies maid had picked up enough of the language to know she was dismissed. She gave a small curtsy and mumbled something in English along with a butchered pronunciation of "Madame de Chagny".
The maid frowned when she passed Mr. Y at the entrance to the Louis-Philippe room.
"Is she ready?" the man asked in perfect English.
"Yes, sir. And I think she liked your gift, sir," the maid said suspiciously. She was quite sure "Madame" meant married woman, so she didn't understand why the master spent so much time in Christine's bedroom; but that was none of her business.
From her dressing room, Christine heard a knock on the main door of her suite. She rushed into the boudoir to receive her guest.
"Hello, Erik. Thank you for the gift. It's beautiful!" Christine exclaimed as she twirled to show off her new dress. Erik smiled at her delight. He had been fearful the dress would need to be further altered, but it fit her like a glove.
"Joyeux Noël, Christine. I'm glad you like it. I thought you could use some winter garments as I doubt you planned to stay this long!" Erik noticed she was wearing summer boots underneath the skirts of her dress, but that would be remedied soon. He offered his arm to Christine and she accepted. They chatted as he led her down the maze of hallways leading to the main foyer.
"Close your eyes," Erik said when they were close. He placed a hand over her face because he knew she'd peek no matter how hard she tried to hide it. He gripped her waist as he carefully led the blind woman down the bifurcated staircase.
"We're about to turn," he warned when they reached the landing. "Okay. Now you may open your eyes," he said when they reached the bottom of the stairs. Erik lifted his hand from Christine's face as her jaw dropped. Evergreen garlands were wrapped around the dark wood of the staircase contrasted by silky red ribbons. Boughs of holly decorated every flat surface. At the center of the foyer was a brilliant Christmas tree trimmed with red banners and candles. Christine craned her neck toward the grand chandelier and spotted an angel sitting at the top of the tree.
"It's beautiful!" she whispered.
"We've all been working on it for weeks," said Erik as he led Christine to the Girys and Gustave standing beside the tree.
"See why we couldn't tell you, Mother?" said the boy. His mother nodded speechlessly as she admired the festive decor around her. Erik led Christine into an equally decorated parlour and sat her down on a sofa. Though she was feeling better, he didn't want to tire her out on her first day out of her room.
"How wonderful!" Christine exclaimed as she pointed to a gingerbread house on a side table. Gustave smiled and picked up the plate and brought it closer to his mother so she could admire the intricate designs created by the frosting and candies.
"I helped make it!" said the boy proudly. "Mr. Y helped too except he kept eating the candies."
"I did not!" Erik protested. He crossed his arms over his chest as he and Gustave narrowed their eyes at each other. "Okay. Fine. I ate one."
"Mr. Y!" Gustave whined with a stomp of his foot.
"Okay. Fine. It was seven!"
"It was eight!"
"Okay. It was eight!" Erik grumbled. "But we still had plenty left."
"May I eat one?" asked Christine, reaching for a red candy.
"Of course you may," said Erik before Gustave could protest.
"Fine," the boy grumbled as his mother broke a candy from the house and left a small gap in his intricately premeditated design. "Don't eat too many, Mother. You'll ruin your appetite for dinner."
"That is very kind of you, Gustave," said Christine as she reached for a second candy.
The group of friends and family migrated into the dining room to eat the exquisite holiday feast. Erik sat at the head of the long table, with Christine and Gustave on one side and the Girys on the other. Erik beamed ear to ear at being surrounded by the few people he cared about in a world that had treated him cruelly for so long. But he wasn't going to think of his sorrowful past tonight. Erik had never celebrated Christmas before, but the jolly holiday spirit in the air was beginning to rub off on him, and he wondered why people didn't celebrate Christmas everyday.
When a plate of delicious food was set before Christine, she was certain the candies would not stop her from digging into the meal, but after a few bites, she was unable to eat.
"I told you you'd ruin your appetite," Gustave scolded when his mother set her fork down.
"It wasn't the candies," she grumbled. "I'm just not very hungry tonight." After months of eating light meals during her recuperation, the decadent Christmas Eve dinner was too rich for her stomach. It pained her to waste such delicious food, but her spirits rose when Erik suggested they sing Christmas carols in the music room after they ate the bûche de Noël for dessert.
Erik's grand piano was just as magnificent as Gustave described. Seeing Gustave sit beside his father on the piano bench made Christine yearn for what could have been.
"Gustave's been teaching me the Christmas carols!" Erik said blithely as he took a seat at the instrument. Gustave had been shocked when he learned Erik had gone his whole life without singing Christmas carols and saw it as his duty to educate his father in the tradition.
The music room had impeccable acoustics; Erik made sure of that when he was drawing up architectural plans for his manor. The sound of his voice bouncing off the walls took Christine back to her days at the opera, when she was still a naive child who actually thought she was communicating with the Angel of Music. How Christine wished she could turn back time! She'd give anything to live in that state of innocence once more. After her Angel abandoned her, she'd spent years cursing herself for being so stupid, but hearing her Angel's ethereal voice once more reminded how easy it was to believe any lie his voice told her.
After Erik exhausted his limited list of Christmas carols, he surrendered the piano to Gustave who was more than happy to continue the merry-making. Erik sat beside Christine on a sofa so he could be near her voice soaring amongst the others. Though years had passed since she'd last performed opera, Christine's voice was still as beautiful as it once was, and Erik couldn't escape the giddy feeling that invigorated him every time he heard her sing.
When Gustave lifted his hands from the keyboard mid-song to stifle a yawn, his mother realized how late it was and told her son it was time for bed. The boy protested, but Madame Giry came to Christine's aid.
"I'm rather tired as well," said the ex-ballet mistress. "I think I'll go up to bed. What about you, Meg?"
"Yes, I'm rather tired too, and if we don't go to bed, Père Noël will not come!" Meg had no idea whether Gustave believed in the legendary figure, but at the very least the boy could play along.
"Oh, alright." Gustave shook his head and stood up from the piano. He and the three women bid each other goodnight and left the room, but Erik sat down at the piano again and played something softly.
"Erik… " someone murmured. Erik jumped and looked up to see Christine standing in the doorway. Though her voice had been little more than a whisper, it had startled him. He hadn't realized she'd stayed behind.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you!" Christine laughed, wondering how she had managed to spook the Opera Ghost. "I just wanted to say thank you for tonight. You don't understand how much this means to me."
"You're very welcome," Erik replied with a smile. Their eyes met and both lingered, waiting for the other break away.
"Joyeux Noël, Erik." Christine placed a soft kiss on Erik's cheek. It was nothing more than a friendly gesture, but she wished it could have been something more.
"Joyeux Noël, Christine." Erik returned her gesture with the same underlying longing. "Be sure to get some sleep or Père Noël will not come!" he teased. Christine giggled and waved goodnight as she left the room. Erik sighed and played softly at the piano again, though this time, the music was more melancholy than before.
Sorry for a Christmas chapter in February...