Chapter Twenty-One

Upon leaving Erik's home, Christine found herself running to the nearest metro station having seen three missed calls from Meg and a text that read, Someone broke in and drugged Cloe. Please come. I don't want to be alone tonight.

Once at the metro, she checked the times to see if it would be better to hail a cab. Still, with the roads not being completely free of ice, she didn't trust one. Fortunately, the train was on time and she made it out to U Street in very good time. From the U Street stop, she didn't wait to catch a bus, instead of running the six blocks uphill that it took to get to Meg's apartment.

When she reached the fourth floor, having slipped in the front door behind another resident, she saw Meg having what looked like was a final conversation with an officer in the doorway. The man tipped his hat at Meg and passed Christine without much interest. Christine reached out to give Meg a hug.

"It's time to talk," Meg whispered, "Let's get inside."

Over the course of the night, both women finally laid their cards of secrecy flat for each other. Meg, having a story that would destroy Raoul Peters in order to boot Phillip Tusk out of his perfect light as a result and Christine, being the secret interest of the allusive Erik Underwood. During the time, Cloe had woken up and taken to keeping her head rested on Meg's leg. Having no further secrets between them seemed to make the air much lighter.

"Part of me is glad that it happened," Meg said between sips of tea, "I was more worried that you would ask me not to print it, especially after what happened today. Then whoever was out to get Tusk would be out to get me too."

"But," Christine asked slowly, "Do you think you're in any danger?"

"No," Meg shrugged casually, "Not really. They left me a note saying they wouldn't do anything so long as I didn't do anything."

"Is it still here?"

"No, the investigator took it to see if they could get any leads. He doubted it, though. There weren't any fingerprints anywhere so they were probably wearing gloves."

"What did it say?"

Meg looked to her forehead, trying to remember the words exactly, "'Our contract has expired. Your knowledge serves inadequate. Redirect your writing and keep your career.'"

Christine replayed the words in her head, "Kind of cryptic, don't you think?"

"I don't think so. Basically, without proof, I have no story. So, that's a snow week wasted, but I'll recover. Besides, all of this police talk started to spark my interest in their line of work. I may write a short story on my own experience and leave out the real reason why the break-in took place."

"You're so calm about all of this," Christine noted after a sip of tea.

"I could say the same thing about you." Her voice picked up the pace with excitement, "Erik Underwood wanting to marry you! Erik Underwood wanting to marry anyone. You had better get those millions of bucks in a legal contract before you say anything."

"But Meg, marriage." She set her cup down, "I'm only twenty-five. I don't feel that old. He said I could travel and do what I wanted, but we both know that can't be true. There will be responsibilities and events I'll be expected to show up to. What will he expect out of marriage? That was never talked about either."

Meg gave her a weird look, "I…expect just about everything else. Unless, well, he never struck me as gay, a-sexual to the records, but I never spent as much time with him, personally."

Christine felt herself blush, "No…oh my god. How did I not ever think about that? Oh god, I can't even think about that!"

"Really? Girl, that would be the first thing I thought about! And you are a regulation haw-tee!" Meg punched her shoulder and Christine couldn't help laughing a little, "Has he ever made any looks at you? Ever tried anything?"

"Well…no. He held my hand tonight, but it didn't seem so…I mean, it was strange just because we had never touched before."

"Risky behavior there," Meg said sarcastically.

"He once called me beautiful," Christine added, "but he wasn't in the right head. I don't know. I just never thought about it."

"Hey, so long as you don't think he'll be abusive or anything like that, I say take the money and run. That's a song, right? Just follow the song." Meg smiled, "We should turn on some tunes!"

Christine stopped her before she got up, "But Meg, I'm not like that. I want to work and do things and make my own way. Money or not it already feels like a prison."

"Why can't this be kind of like making your own way?"

"Because I don't feel like I have a choice!"

"But Christine," Meg took her friend's hand and smiled, "you do. He's not putting a gun to your head or anything. You know, it's weird, I feel like he actually is trying to give you what you want. You used to love everything about music, but we both know music and art don't pay the bills. Unless you're my ma, but she's crazy. You have to admit that having money taken care of does make things a lot easier. and so long as you're smart on your end, you'll be set for life. So feel free to pay off my college loans for me, k?"

Christine sighed, "So you're saying I should say yes?"

"I'm saying you should count your luck. As strange as this thing is, so long as you get what you want to be contracted out, he can't expect anything from you, right? He wants a titled wife and someone he can stand. Why not?"

"Because…" she had to think.

How could Meg be so casual about all of this? This was her entire life they were talking about! She didn't want to have to go through so many hoops just for four years. This entire bargain was ridiculous. When she finally thought about what her father would say, she knew what the issue was.

"Because he doesn't love me. I don't want to be someone who has to get a divorce. I don't want to go through that. This isn't fair."

"Christine," she took her friend's hand warmly, "Nothing in life in fair. You know as well as I do that you've got to work for what you have and you have. Your last ten years have been harder on you than any other story I've ever heard of outside of a war-torn country. Maybe this is what you've been working for, maybe this is your break. Why don't you take it?"

"But then…what does that mean? What does it look like? Raoul and I were dating as of two weeks ago and now I'm marrying someone else on a whim?"

"Firstly, it doesn't look like anything. No one knew you were actually together so as far as looks go, nothing looks bad. Secondly, it's not on a whim, you've already thought too much about it for it to be on a whim. And I know you have feelings for Raoul even though he was so messed up, but Underwood isn't asking you to have feelings for him, right? It sounds like he doesn't want you to get hurt, he just wants to look out for you. The only expectation that's there is your answer. Considering the crappy world we live in, that doesn't sound half bad to me, personally."

"Well, do we need to point out the obvious age difference? Or money difference?"

"People will say things, I know they will, but this happens all the time." Meg smiled with a glint of evil in her green eyes, "I'll just have to help you ignore it, then tell you dirty secrets about the reporters writing them."

Christine smiled lightly but sighed, "My stomach feels like it's all knotted up. Too many emotions for one day."

"I agree and you look as tired as I do, I think. Maybe the tunes and dance party can wait for another day?"

"Yeah, I think I'll be able to pass once the lights are out."

"Good. You've got a big day tomorrow, chica."

XXI

Erik had skilled himself in reading lips. It was necessary to have a leg up on those who wanted to speak more about him rather than to him. He had asked Nadir to leave the surveillance camera up in Barnes' home for a week or so further, even as Doug had repeatedly told him there would be no point to it and it could have easily gotten them other issues. The investigators passed it without thought, even seeming to question whether Meg was right in the head or not for having called them out there then say nothing was stolen.

He figured that Christine would be the first person she would call. He had also suspected that after such a day that they would be talking quickly, letting the dam of secrets burst now that there were no reasons to keep them from each other. Erik was prepared for the private relationship to end, why shouldn't she admit to it now?

It did concern him what Barnes might think as she seemed to be the only person that Christine went to for serious advice. Surprisingly, and necessarily, Barnes seemed to be in agreement that his plan was what was best for Christine and that she would be lacking sense to decline. He even smiled when he noticed Meg trying to cheer her up. This was good. The only active people in her life were telling her two to one that this was the best thing for her.

As Barnes and the dog crawled into bed in the corner of the room, Christine settled herself under a blanket on the couch. Once all lights were out, the camera switched to night vision. Christine lay there with her eyes wide open for a long time. She eventually turned to her side, reached into her purse for her phone and swiped it open. It didn't take her long to find what she was looking for. Erik couldn't see it from the angle of the camera, but from her eyes, she could tell that she wasn't reading, just staring.

It must have been a photo. Her expression showed pain and he wondered if it was that imbecile Peters that was looking back at her. The screen went dark a few times and she had to keep tapping it to see the photo. In time, she fell closer and closer to sleep, her hand with the phone finally falling to her side to where he could see the outline of an older man with thick curly hair, a younger girl with blonde hair hugging his side.

Her father. He was the one standing in Erik's way. Alive or dead, that was who's approval he needed and if all he cared about was love, this situation would never work. He turned away from the monitor and looked out into the darkness of the Study. It was easy to note how very dark his house was without her around, specifically because he usually kept the fire low when he was alone. All of what was left of her now was the little orange kitten that curled up to Roach where she usually sat next to the fire.

It occurred to him that he may never win the dead man's approval. He wondered if the two of them had ever talked about what Christine would have wanted in a husband. A sarcastic thought came to mind, Not a half-face politician like you. Still, this needed to be done. She had to say yes. There was no other way about this. He needed her and he needed her father to see that somehow.

A new thought came: if he was to win Christine, he would need to win over her father. That was the key. That was how he got her to give him what he needed.

Suddenly, there was far more work to do before tomorrow evening than he ever could have expected.

XXI

The day passed too quickly for Christine. Congress had one more day off before they went back in session and she wished that they would have started already so that Underwood wouldn't expect her to meet him so early in the evening. He had given her instruction via private messenger to be in front of The Kennedy Center no later than five that afternoon. The note, having been written on expensive parchment and sealed with wax and attached to a red rose.

She sent a photo to Meg with the text, This is ridiculous.

Meg texted her a smiling emoji and Christine rolled her eyes. Another messenger with a note came about two hours before she planned to leave. This messenger brought a large box with them and she took it.

"Do you know if anyone else is coming?" Christine asked, "I'm about to take a shower and I'd hate to think anyone was waiting out here."

"I'm just the messenger," the woman said.

"Right," Christine shrugged and took the box inside, her shower still running from her trying to warm up the water. She opened the box, pulling off a layer of tissue paper to find dark sea green chiffon dress with a Hermes personalized tag folded on top of it with a handwritten note reading, This evening's events require such expenditures. Till dusk, E.

She texted Meg, What's Hermes?

The response was quick, OMG LIKE ONE OF THE MOST EXPENSIVE CLOTHING LINES IN THE WORLD SHOW ME SHOW ME SHOW MEEEEEE!

Christine held the dress out for herself to see. It was very elegant with a single thick strap over one shoulder, the bodice meant to hold tight over her chest until reaching a simply attached belt that would fall on her waist. The skirt of the dress flowed effortlessly to the floor. Christine shook her head. Even she couldn't deny that the dress was gorgeous. She wondered if it would fit her…not before a shower.

After a very long relaxing shower, she saw that she had missed about ten angry texts from Meg yelling at her to show the dress. She decided that her friend could wait a little longer until she had her hair dried. She kept her makeup light as usual, nothing too interesting or obvious. Her hair was another matter that she decided to braid and pin up to the back of her head for safety. Putting the nude heels that she used for the Crusade, she finally took a look in the mirror to take a picture of herself for Meg.

Once again, the response was immediate, OMG STOP IT JUST STOP IT YOU'RE SO EFFING GORGE I CAN'T! Another text, Have you thought about jewellery?

No….thoughts?

As if on cue, Christine's doorbell rang. She went to the door hesitantly. It was getting close to the time she would be leaving and she was worried that he would go so far as to pick her up. Nervous energy was beginning to fill her stomach. She didn't know what was going to happen and it was starting to be so much already. The dress…it was beautiful. And it somehow managed to fit her flawlessly and she even liked it on her! She wondered if he had picked if or if someone else had, but there was no time to think on that.

On the other side of her door stood an older man in a black suit and cap. When she opened the door, he removed his cap and held out a smaller box to her.

"Evening, Ma'am. I'll be taking you to the Kennedy Center, but before we go, I was told to give you this."

Christine looked over the man's shoulder to see a black limousine parked neatly on the side of the road. She thanked him and asked for a few more seconds to get ready. He nodded politely and said he would wait in the car. Of course, there were beautiful jewels in the box. Of course, the shimmering white diamond square earrings and bracelet matched the dress and belt perfectly. Her reflection took her breath straight out of her body. With one last picture, she through the matching dark sea green cape over her dress and headed out.

The man introduced himself as Earl and held the door open for her on the limousine. Fortunately, she was the only one sitting in the back. She wondered how anyone could drive the tiny Washington neighborhood streets in such a long car, but Earl had no trouble. As he had told her she was welcome to drink whatever she liked during the trip, she took him up on the offer and had herself a full glass of white wine. She needed to calm down.

Without too much traffic, they were in front of the Kennedy Center within fifteen minutes. It was starting to get dark and the lights were on all around the building. The sounds of rush-hour were starting to fill the air and half of her wished she had gotten stuck in it. Nonetheless, she thanked Earl as he helped her out of the limo and wished him a good night.

At the top of the steps, another man waited for her in a long black coat, "Good evening, Ms Gallagher."

"Hello," she said quietly. She took a closer look at him, but couldn't place where she had seen his black hair, brown eyes, and strong jaw before. He was an attractive guy, she noted and appeared to be in good financial standing according to how well made and warm his coat was.

"How about we go inside?"

She followed him in and they walked down the red carpet of the Hallway Of Nations together. There was an awkward silence as the two of them seemed to want to talk to each other, but couldn't find the exact words.

"I'm sorry," Christine finally said, "but do I know you? You look so familiar, but I can't place it."

The man turned to her and stopped his pace for a second, beaming with a full smile, "You remember me?"

"I think?" she shrugged, still trying to place him.

"Well, I don't want to give too much away. Wow. You were so young then. I can't believe it."

Christine smiled awkwardly, "Can you just tell me?"

The two of them turned and went down the white marble steps towards signs pointing them towards the Opera House auditorium.

"I guess if I were to point something small out, that would be alright."

She followed his finger to a poster outside of the National Symphony Orchestra auditorium on the wall of him holding a baton, his name printed below it.

"Stev Rein! You were the conductor when my dad was working for Boston Pops!"

He smiled genuinely, "I always knew you had a memory on you!"

She could have hugged him, but suddenly felt weird in the context. So for a moment, the two of them simply stared at each other and smiled stupidly. She wanted to ask him so many questions, to ask about how he had wound up here, but they were now at the door of the auditorium.

"I'm not supposed to say anything else. Maybe we'll talk after, okay? And if not, I'm going to have to find you on Facebook at least. I want to hear about how you are. The music world misses you and your father more than you know. It's not every day we meet a pair like you two. Now come on,"

She was smiling bitterly sweetly when they had entered. The lights were bright and magnificent over the red velvet chairs, carpet and side panels that glossed the house. As she had never been inside in years, all of it appeared very loud and distracting to her so she looked up to see the array of chandeliers that seemed to make a huge flower over the top of the ceiling. The white light calmed her enough to finally look to the stage. Before she sat the entire National Symphony Orchestra in their evening wear. As they saw the two of them enter, they stood as they would for the conductor. Stev led her to a seat in the center of the house about halfway back behind a horizontal walkway that broke up the rows of seats past the orchestra section. Before leaving her there, Stev shook her hand and finally brought it to her lips to for a quick kiss.

"We're so excited to present this. So many of them had heard of your father. This is a treat for them too."

Stev hurried out of the row and made his way to the orchestra. Unlike the orchestra's she had gone to, it was strange to have no one clapping as he approached. It was so quiet and she could hear as Srev turned pages on his conductor stand. Before raising his baton, he looked back at her and smiled. She tried to smile back.

In truth, this was terrifying her. She had not heard an orchestra live in at least eight years. Was all of this to torture her? To threaten her into submission? Where was Erik anyway? She looked around fast to see if anyone else was in the auditorium. No one she could see. Maybe that was better. Maybe she could run if she needed to. Maybe no one would notice. There was still time.

A crackling came from the speakers around her and she looked up. Was someone turning on a recording? That didn't seem right. The lights dimmed on the house and a little bit on the stage as well. Someone began to speak from the monitors.

"Hello everyone, thanks for coming out here tonight."

Christine stood in fright and whispered, "It can't be." She would know that voice anywhere, from miles away, from centuries away. That was the one person, the only person, a ghost, her father. But he was well, he wasn't sick or coughing or dying. No, he was coming from the speakers. There were people who were watching him. It was a recording.

"I know it's been raining a lot recently, but the good news is, I just got my little lady here a new pair of rain boots which seems to change everything, doesn't it?"

Rain boots. Rain boots. They were pink and had flowers on them. It must have been the late eighties or early nineties. She had loved those boots up until the day her feet wouldn't fit in them anymore. They made her love the rain. Her father spoke again.

"I'm going to play for you what the classical world considers as pops, but that the modern world considers classics." He always said that for those kinds of concerts and her mouth hinted at a smile. "We hope you enjoy."

A violin was heard from the speakers as three half notes were played, as they were, the orchestra on stage began to float into the music, working with the song. The sounds blended well enough together despite the scratchy recording and when Christine closed her eyes, it might as well have been her father playing first chair right there with him. The song had always been one of her favorites, Somewhere Over the Rainbow.

Suddenly, she didn't feel she was there, standing in the middle of one of the aisles of the Opera House. No, she felt weightless, drifting, and happy. Truly happy. Her face lifted to the sky and while tears flowed freely down her cheeks, she smiled wider than she ever thought she could as the song began to shift. Christine was beginning to travel to another place. She remembered this night and this arrangement. It was for a small wedding where they could only afford one instrumentalist and chose her father. The father-daughter song had been a compilation of Somewhere Over the Rainbow, Smile and something else she hadn't remembered yet.

She stood for minutes more, her eyes closed, her hands folded to her chest as if in prayer. She never wanted to lose this feeling of love and fullness. She didn't want to face the world once the music ended. This was her family, the only family she ever knew that knew her just the same. It was the music, the orchestra, her father. As the song began to shift into the last of the set, a new sound reached her ears.

A young pure voice filled the speakers and started to sing Moon River. That was the song, the one she had forgotten. She wanted to kick herself. How could she have forgotten one of her favorite songs? Because of that very reason. It was one of her favorite songs. She loved to sing it with her father and the voice she heard was so joyful. Pain filled her heart and she opened her eyes to the sounds of the song ended.

Immediately, she wanted it back, wanted them to play and play forever to fill the hole in her chest before it engulfed her. She walked forward a little to the edge of the next section of seats and placed her weight on the barrier there. The song had now ended and the orchestra stood, placed their instruments against their chairs, and began to clap. Stev then turned around and joined in with them.

She couldn't understand why they were clapping and so she stood there feeling dumb. A few people wiped a tear from their eyes. She still didn't understand.

"Christine," Stev called out, "You ought to know how important your father is to us." He turned back around, "Here, can everyone who has not heard of Mr Charles Gallagher before this sit down." She watched as about fifteen people sat down. That still left nearly fifty people standing. "Now, all of those who have played with Charles, please stay standing." Roughly a third more sat down, still so many were standing. "And how many of you standing had the chance to meet Ms Christine Gallagher, please raise your hand." All but ten people raised their hands and smiled back at her.

Christine found herself moving closer to the stage. She wanted to see these people. She wanted to recognize them again. Her father was in them and she wanted to see him in them. One woman who had been playing the piano raised her hand and spoke, "I went with him to buy those pink boots, Christine. Remember how happy you were?"

She smiled in shock, half-way raising her hand to wave.

"You and I would sneak to the kitchen and eat candy corn when we worked together in Tallahassee." A man from the cellist section laughed after winking at her.

"I found you a bandage after you tripped at a pool at a resort at Myrtle Beach." An older woman said as she held her bass with one arm.

"I took lessons with your father while you were in Cincinnati." One of the first violins said, "He was one of the most patient teachers I ever had."

"You told me my piccolo broke your ears," a middle aged man laughed, "Later that year I broke the piccolo. Damn thing hurt my ears too."

Other voices joined in and she ended up not being able to hear all of them. Christine began to stare at them in shock, not knowing how to respond to any of the comments as so many of these memories had been locked away in her mind. She never thought that having so many others bring up her father would bring her the relief that it currently was. There was a tie that she felt with these people and she was compelled to walk forward until she was touching the stage and looking up to them.

"I think what we're trying to say here is," Stev quieted the group down a bit when he spoke, "Is that we miss him too. He affected all of us in one way or another and when he left, we missed you too."

"You were the only kid I ever liked. The only one I would put up with backstage!" A man yelled from percussion and made everyone laugh knowingly.

Stev sat down on the stage and smiled down to her, "You should have known you always had a family in this world. I heard some of his old band went looking for you after he died. They said they lost you to foster services."

"I…I didn't know they were looking," Christine choked out as the orchestra started to sit down and pack up.

"Well, it's good to see you again." A second violin said as she cleaned her strings, "You've grown up to be even more beautiful than you were and that's saying something!"

As the musicians left, many of them came by to say hello, reintroducing themselves as they came. They shared stories with her on how they knew her father, how devastated they were to hear what happened to him, and how wonderful it was to meet her again. Some left their phone numbers and names for Facebook for her to reconnect with them. A few even gave her a hug.

Eventually, everyone had left. She looked around the empty auditorium wondering what she should do next. There had been no sign of Erik the entire night. Instead, she saw Meg walking down the aisle, a camera bag slung over her shoulder.

"Meg? What are you doing here?"

Meg beamed, "I was told to come here to get you ready for the next part."

"What?!"

Meg came close enough to her for a hug, "According to Underwood, it was very easy to get my number. As a young reporter, I consider that a compliment."

"Wait, how much do you know about this?"

"Enough to skip work for the day to act as designer for your special night. Oh, and I've been taking pictures. Underwood wanted things to be well documented."

"Is he not here?"

"I don't know. What I do know is that I need to get you into your next dress. To the dressing rooms, we go!"

Pix of the Kennedy Center Opera House on the tumblr. capitolintent DOT tumblr DOT com
What do you think of the night so far? This chapter made me cry!