A/N: I know it's getting longer between chapters. It's interesting how plans at the beginning of a story can change - and how the MIDDLE of the story ends up changing drastically as you think of different ideas while you go along. Then of course this summer I had my child at my shoulder EVERY MINUTE OF EVERY DAY! But yesterday the distractions were quiet and non-existent, and the creative dam affecting my ability to write this scene broke away. Floodgates have opened, and I sincerely hope no one will have to wait so long again!
Unfortunately the editing is still going to be mostly poor. My keyboard is getting steadily worse and I cannot read large blocks of text to edit the way I would like. It would take me a year... I appreciate everyone's understanding. But I will STILL do my very personal best to minimize the problems.
Love to everyone - especially. E.M.K.81 for her constant collaboration and support.
She had been dozing happily across Erik's lap – her head pressed to his shoulder as the fire slowly died and the sweat cooled on her body. The temperature of the room was nearly uncomfortable; but not enough so that she wanted to move. The one thing in the world she loved more than anything else was being in Erik's arms … and she never took it for granted. Staying there in his lap – slightly uncomfortable but safe and wrapped in love – was far better than getting up long enough to reach for a blanket.
But her satisfied shallow dreaming was brought to a chaotic end when Erik's body suddenly jolted beneath her. His arms tightened around her, then flailed around so violently that he almost cuffed her on the side of the head. Her eyes flew open as Erik's thighs tightened into hard trunks beneath her, and he nearly stood upright with a scream. Arabella had to pull her head away from him to preserve her hearing as a cry that sounded literally ripped from the bowels of his soul worked its way up his throat and through clenched teeth that finally parted to allow a wordless scream to peal through the room. Arabella grappled desperately for his shoulders – unable to wrap her legs around him for purchase but not wanting to fall onto the floor. For just a moment, Erik was like a bucking horse beneath her.
"No!" Erik yelled, his eyes now wide open but clearly not taking in the world around him. Arabella saw sweat pouring down his forehead and cheeks… wondering how she hadn't realized the sheen had been forming over his entire body while she lazed on top of him.
"Erik!" she protested, her nails digging accidentally into the skin of his neck as she sought to remain seated. "Erik, it's all right!"
He still wasn't quite seeing her; but it seemed he at least heard her. Something in his eyes shifted, and his body slumped back to the chair as his body began to tremble violently. He did not scream again. He did not cry. He just shook and panted for breath as he stared around the room – taking everything in as his hands sought her out blindly. They found the small of her back first, pulling her in closer to him as he had in the hours before… slid up her back and to her upper arms before caressing down to her elbows and then along her hips. It was almost as though he were blind and could only identify her through his fingertips.
Seeing she wasn't about to be violently uprooted, Arabella released his shoulders. Erik did not flinch at the pain of her nails removing themselves from his skin. He had known torture … the pain she inflicted had been easily overlooked by his well-trained body. But something had upset him, obviously… and she wondered what kind of mental torture could leave him shaking and screaming… Her hands caught at his face, framing it in her palms and trying to make him turn his eyes to her own as she leaned into his field of vision.
"Erik…" she pressed insistently.
At the sound of her voice, his hands on her hips tightened, his arms still affected by tremors much more like violent seizures than shivers of fear. He blinked once … then twice in rapid succession as he tried to focus his enormous pupils on her. They were so dilated that she could barely make out a thin line of golden iris around them.
"Erik, miri ves'tacha… I'm here. What's wrong? What happened? Are you ill?"
Slowly, his eyes finally focused on her. His body – which barely moved now except for the constant trembling – seemed to calm. She wondered if he was so still because he sought control over the shaking. He seemed to be concentrating very hard on his body, as she could feel the muscles bunching and loosening almost in a wave of effort. His pupils retracted into a more reasonable size and he stared – finally – directly into her face. His hands rose up and clamped down hard – but not painfully – on her shoulders.
"Bella…" he rasped. "Bella… are you all right?" he demanded. In spite of the sepulcher rasp of his voice, it was still somehow shrill. "Are you hurt?"
The sound of his voice made goose-flesh rise on her naked skin. She released one side of his face and instead placed it gently along his neck – her thumb brushing the ridge of his jawline.
"No, miri kom." She promised quickly. Seeing Erik so out of control in fear forced the blood in her body to run cold and fast. It was almost like a herd instinct … a panic of her own wanting to set in despite her knowledge that nothing bad has happened. Erik was not the kind of man to become out of control with fear. To see him in such a state … it made her feel almost sick with dread. "I am here… I am fine. What happened, Erik? Was it a dream? You were sleeping…"
It was strange how her question made the trembling start in his body. Arabella's eyebrows rose almost into her hairline as Erik lost that little bit of physical control over himself again, a cloud of not-quite formed tears forming over his eyes.
"Yes…" he breathed. "Yes… the worst… oh Mon Dieu… ma belle… hold … h-hold me…"
"Miri…" Arabella instantly placed one hand on the back of his head and began to draw him close – but the fear between them was making the temperature of the room feel all that much colder. She shivered briefly and decided that pulling him closer could wait just a few seconds. "Yes – yes I will. Just…"
She pressed away from him, straining to rise into a partial standing position so that she could reach a small blanket they habitually kept out on the back of the divan in case someone fell asleep there. It was much easier than hunting one down in one of the cupboards or wardrobes. Erik had gripped her by the hips again – although it was the furthest thing from an intimate gesture she'd yet experienced with him while both of them were nude. It was an act of pure desperation – as though he feared releasing her.
Luckily she didn't have to scold him for restraining her. She managed to grasp the blanket with her fingertips, and shook it out so that she could pull it around them as she reseated herself – this time on the arm of the chair. Erik kept a hand firmly on the small of her back as she arranged the blanket and then pulled him close so that his head rested against her bare breast. The other arm wrapped almost too tightly around her. Sympathy washed away her fearful reaction to his wakening, and she stroked at his mostly bald scalp.
For a time she sat like that with him, just stroking his scalp and feeling his fingers stroke what flesh they could reach. It was the strangest way of being touched … as though he were continually trying to convince himself she was there – that she was well and whole. Arabella tried humming for a time – wanting to soothe him as he had so often soothed her. But after a time she cleared her throat and gave up. It was obvious she did not have the kind of voice to put Erik at ease.
"Do you want to tell me about the nightmare?" she asked gently. "Or … would you rather I distracted you? I'm sure I could think of something much more pleasant to occupy your mind."
Her offer was more of a tease than a serious suggestion. They had both been quite satiated by the evening's intimate turn of events. She was still sore and throbbing in a pleasant sort of way … and no doubt Erik in his more advanced age needed at least several more hours of recuperation before he might feel tempted to lie with her again. He might be vigorous for an older man but … he was still an older man.
"I cannot even entertain a mere thought of … that… just now…" Erik admitted with a croaking voice that attempted humor and failed miserably. "Ma belle… you are perfect… Usually I want you every moment even when I do not … I mean…"
He did not lift his head from her breast, but she could imagine him blushing hotly.
"… but I cannot…" he continued more feebly. "I cannot … exorcise the images… Mon Dieu… that nightmare…"
"It's all right." Arabella insisted gently. She pressed her lips to his scalp gently numerous times. "Tell me… make it go into the open air so it can leave you in peace …"
"You … you were … in the torture chamber…" Erik breathed – sounding like an incredibly small child that is so full of terror he can hardly confess what frightens him. "Your legs had been broken; and Christine… she was there…"
This did not much surprise Arabella. She knew he dreamed of Christine quite often. He murmured her name in his sleep … but she never told him. It would only make him feel guilt he had no control over… Considering her song - and his dance with her – at the masquerade… she'd have been surprised if he did not dream of her.
"She said it was my fault…" he was so close to tears now that he was sobbing dryly. "To save you I … I had … to … to … cut her open!"
Grimacing, Arabella gave up on caressing him and just wrapped her arms as tightly as she dared around his shoulders. His own arms repositioned themselves and squeezed her waist like a suffocating corset – but she made no complaint.
"I do not understand." She admitted.
"She had swallowed the key…" he explained. "I know, there is no key… But in the dream, there was. There was … and she had swallowed it. And to save you … I would have to open her stomach…"
Arabella shuddered, feeling ill at the gruesome idea. She did not want to ask what his decision had been. It should not have mattered to her. Most people had no control over what they dreamed or how they acted in them. But … Erik's dreams involving Christine could do absolutely nothing but hurt her so soon after the masquerade.
"Oh … ma belle… it was so real…" Erik moaned softly. "I had to choose between her life and yours. And I did it! I cut her open!"
Arabella's whole body jolted in surprise. She could not help it. But Erik did not seem to notice.
"It was so real! I don't want to see Christine again. I couldn't… Not without thinking of that dream! And I … I need to … the torture chamber. I have to take it down! This is not the first nightmare I have had about it. I cannot leave it up any longer! It would just … it…"
Clearly he could not think of the right words to explain himself; although Arabella held him for quite some time patiently waiting.
"Erik…" she said slowly, although the words she was about to speak made her feel slightly ill. "…Your Christine would never be so evil. You know this. And she is your pupil… a truly brilliant singer…"
"No." he insisted. "I cannot see her again! It is … the temptation … and the horror of that dream … It … is the last drug I have to purge myself of…"
"Erik…"
"She would never harm someone knowingly…" he acknowledged quickly. "Oh, ma belle… the worst part was not Christine! It was… I knew she was right! It was my fault you were in that chamber… that your legs were broken! I had to have broken them… tossed you in there … so that I could … be with … oh …"
The horror of his thoughts made him heave. He sat up straight and lurched away from her to avoid being sick all over her … but nothing happened.
"I do not believe in omens…" he continued when he could speak again. "…but to have dreamed that I hurt you … destroyed your legs… my beautiful gypsy dancers' legs… obliterated what you are! I broke you!"
Swallowing thickly, Arabella pushed the blanket down before taking his hand and leading it up and down her legs.
"I am all right." She told him firmly. "I am not hurt. You did nothing to me."
His hands continued stroking her legs as he stared down at them. There was no hint of desire in his gaze. He did not seem to believe what he saw and felt. Arabella sighed. She would have suggested going to bed with him and getting more sleep; but he was clearly much too disturbed to sleep. She would not go to bed on her own when he so clearly needed her.
"Shall I make you some tea?" she asked, tilting her head and forcing amusement into her voice. "I promise to not overwhelm it with sugar."
"No sugar…" Erik's response was immediate – but he did not smile at her inside joke. "Just … the tea to settle my stomach… I feel ill…"
"With that on your mind, I am not at all surprised." She admitted. Slowly she stood up and walked into the bedroom to fetch them both robes. She put her own on before returning to Erik in his chair and handed it to him. He did not move to put it on immediately – merely held it crumpled in his lap. "Perhaps you should play. It always helps you make order of the chaos…"
"Yes…" he admitted listlessly. He did not sound eager, though. "…My hands… they're still shaking. I couldn't hold the violin…"
"There is always the piano – or the organ."
"No… not the organ." He objected quickly. But he made no explanation, and after a moment Arabella left him to start the tea. She would have made him something to eat; but she doubted very much if he was capable of choking down any food at that time.
When she returned he was in his robe and sitting at the piano … but he was not playing. His hands were not even on the keys. Gently she put the saucer and cup on the top of the unopened piano. Clearly he had not truly intended to play, or the large top would have been propped open.
"What is wrong, miri ves'tacha?"
"I think … I think my fingers are still too stiff from sleeping." He answered lamely.
He had never actually lied to her before. It was so obvious … but … she decided this was an unimportant lie. He was still partially in the grip of that horrible nightmare – he had to be. Seeing him so tormented by his own thoughts was a kind of agony she felt helpless to soothe. As it turned out, though, Erik himself could not bear that he'd told her even an insignificant lie.
"I cannot play now. I … I am scared – no - I don't know…"
Arabella moved behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders. He was iron-hard … and she began to knead at the muscles. It took most of her strength to try and relax him.
"Do you remember what you always tell me when I have a particularly terrible dream?" she asked. "Concentrate on here … on facts…"
"The fact … is that I still have feelings for Christine." He breathed. "In my nightmare, I hurt you to be with her … and then I killed her to save you! I understood what it was like to be Christine … having to choose – even though she never loved me and her choice was not the same kind!"
He turned and looked up at her.
"My feelings are not as strong for her as they once were. But I know how much they hurt you. In my dream I broke your legs… My beautiful dancer's legs…"
His hands lifted and parted the front of her robe below her waist. He was not looking down at her … this was not an attempt at seduction. His hands found her thighs and he stroked them. In spite of his touch not meaning to be seductive, Arabella still felt a gentle wave of excitement course through her … her skin tingled … but she said and did nothing. She endured the slight teasing in order to let him convince himself she was all right.
"You cannot dance without your legs." He whispered. "I broke you … I broke who and what you are… and I will not do that in reality! I … I have to take the chamber apart so no one can ever … so that it cannot be used as a weapon. And I … I have to stop thinking about her. I have to … stay away. For myself … and for you…"
Arabella took in a slow, deep breath.
"I know how you feel, Erik." She murmured. "You remind me every single day how you feel … But you would never do something like that to me. You would never hurt me that way."
"That way … no…" he agreed. "But I do hurt you – don't I? Bella… I know I cannot tear out my feelings. But I can refuse to give into the temptation of seeing her again. I can do that much…"
Slowly, he dropped his hands and stood up – his body almost coming into complete contact with hers until she took a half step back.
"Would you like to help me tear that horrible thing down?" he asked.
Wordlessly, Arabella nodded.
"Good. First I have to turn off the gas heater … seal it… Then we can begin to dismantle the chamber…"
While he did that … she quickly put on a simple house dress. Then she met him in the room that should have become a library. He looked to her curiously, holding a tool in one hand and silently asking if she was certain she wanted to help him do this. She managed a smile.
"Let us tear down this thing that frightens you so much." She offered, holding her hand out for the tool.
Erik chuckled bitterly, shaking his head at her hand and motioning for her to stand nearby. He had already brought a stepladder into the chamber, and he climbed it so that he could begin his work.
"I have far too many of those…" he muttered. "I do not even know where to start… but … I suppose the chamber is the closest thing right now…"
He began at the top of one mirror.
"Bella…" he began slowly after a moment, slightly grunting as he lowered his arms after several minutes of struggling with the screws high up over his head. "…Do you know that in spite of everything, I still dream? Finally getting rid of this … abomination … it makes me realize that I do still dream! I dream of … a normal house … a normal life… a normal wife…"
Arabella flinched slightly; but he was not looking at her and did not notice.
"Just a normal and boring life. Would … would you help me with that?"
Arabella thought he meant that he was making his dream come true by getting rid of this last vestige of his terrible past. But she decided to humor him – and to distract him from his lingering darker thoughts.
"Of course. What do you consider a normal house?" she asked curiously.
"A normal house…" he began, taking a moment to catch his breath. Holding ones arms over their head in such a strenuous way could be a bit suffocating… and Erik would tire a little faster than someone about her own age. "… Like the ones I built in Belgium. The first few I actually … I built them for myself. You know? But there … there was always something missing."
He turned back to the first mirror, looking over his little bit of work so far.
"Can you hold this up while I unscrew the bottom? I don't want it falling on my head!"
Chuckling, Arabella gripped it the best she could. Erik knelt and began to work again, keeping his head bowed.
"I was never satisfied in the houses I built. Now … now I realize it was no technical failure that disturbed me. It was something that had nothing to do with the architecture! The houses were built for more than a bachelor living all on his own! They … they were built for families…"
He stood to take the mirror out of her hands and laid it gently on the ground several feet away. He only dared glance at her briefly before going back to work on the top of the next mirror.
"I could not love my houses because they were not meant for me, alone. With a wife, I doubt I would care at all about those houses… any failing in the design wouldn't matter…"
Arabella thought for a long moment, watching as his eyes brightened slightly as he spoke. He was finally dismissing his nightmare … firmly grasping reality by losing himself in fantastic dreams.
"Would you build us a house?" she asked curiously; willing to play the game with him. "A comfortable house with a solarium and small room meant only for our music?"
"The solarium would have to be on the southeast side…" he mused thoughtfully. It was as though he could already see a design in his mind – and it slowed down his work on the torture chamber. "Then it would be certain to get the most sunlight possible… And a music room … yes … one with a dance floor…"
Arabella finally smiled fully at the thought of a room just for her to dance in while Erik played his violin. She could just imagine the polished mahogany floor… the wainscoting … the gold and glass chandelier… There would be red velvet curtains to make it feel almost like a stage…
Her fantasy caught hold of her immediately; but she tried to control it. She reminded herself she was just trying to help Erik forget his nightmare. This was in no way an actual plan for some future house.
"I don't want to build our house in Paris." Erik stated abruptly. "It would be too … but … But a smaller town! A small city with a theater, and a few building enterprises so that I could find work. Somewhere no one knows us … where we could start a completely new life…"
As she took hold of this second mirror and watched Erik kneel; Arabella could not help but gape down at the top of his head. She wondered how long these flights of fancy would go on, and how extreme they would get. It made her feel excited … but her very excitement was not a good thing. She could not let herself dream the way Erik could. When she dreamed, she wanted it to happen. Erik's dreams had always been a coping mechanism to survive the harsh life heaped upon him. Unlike her … he did not have expectations of his castles in the air turning to stone on the ground.
"I like the thought of that." she admitted. "I could try to be your proper gaje wife in a proper gaje home…"
Erik smiled distantly. He did not seem to notice or care that his robe – since he had never dressed – would hang open or bunch up in obtrusive places at times.
"I like the idea of coming home to my wife after a day working on one building site or another." He admitted freely. "Coming home in Belgium or above in Paris was always so … unpleasant. The house was always cold. There was never a meal ready and I was usually too tired to make one. I could not go to a shop for food because they would all be closed by that time… All I had waiting for me was housework and a pile of dirty laundry. Other men returned home to a warm house and a cooked hot meal. Even the lowest worker had a wife to greet him… I just had a dirty and empty cold house."
Arabella had opened her mouth to tell him that was all in the past. She didn't want him dwelling on his past unhappiness. But he didn't really seem to be melancholy. He was still smiling softly. To anyone else that smile would look ghastly. To her … it looked exactly like what it was. Especially when he paused to meet her gaze and his golden eyes shone brilliantly at her.
"The idea of coming home to find you waiting for me … so that we could spend the evening together looking into the flames of our fireplace… I like that. It is something I would love."
"I dreamed of a life like that once." She admitted. "Before … in the doctor's house…"
She winced; expecting the memory of what she'd done to herself to make Erik upset again. Instead, he just smiled even more for a moment.
"That was when I dared to dream of having a real and normal family." He stated. "Having someone to love … who loved me. When you accepted my proposal… I dreamed of having a family – even a child – that would love me … whom I would protect and love. I had always wanted a wife – even as a child. For years and years … every time I imagined my wife … I saw you in my mind…"
For the first time in a very long time, Arabella felt shame over her actions fill her. She remembered that day as if it had only just occurred. She could recall Erik coming into the crude operating room and how bleary the medication had made her brain feel. Her thoughts had been like wisps of smoke… But she recalled his proposal… she recalled the guilt of almost taking something away from Erik in a moment of panic. She remembered waking up to Erik's face – unmasked only for her for the very first time – and she remembered the ring on her finger.
She glanced down at her special, rose-gold ring with its real citrine and false rubies.
"You know … it was when you carried me through that doctor's house that I realized how much I dreamed of being your wife." She breathed. "I did not think I could ever be a truly proper gaje wife… but I wanted to be. I wanted to try…"
As Erik continued working with her limited assistance, she laughed in embarrassment.
"It was not until I felt the softness of the bed under my body that I truly made up my mind! Is that not the most ridiculousand selfish reason beyond belief? I knew that I loved you … that it was utterly and irreversibly real… But somehow I didn't really know how to feel it even until after we lost the baby. So I made my already mostly decided choice because of something as foolish as the softness of a gaje mattress! And then when I woke up … when you nearly insisted I marry you … that I did not just know you loved me … but I felt loved. I know bunica loved me… that you loved me… But until that moment I had never quite … managed to feel loved… I was just too afraid to let love in as more than a fact… like knowing my hair color…. Letting myself truly feel for you in return took even longer!"
Erik slowly stopped working, leaning his arms on the stepladder in order to look down at her in amused curiosity as she shook her head.
"I knew I loved you. But I don't think I understood it … how deep it ran … until I saw how you reacted to losing me. God … I hated seeing you suffer so much! Now … I want the life you speak of more than anything! But this time I … I don't want it for all those ridiculous material reasons. I just want to see your dreams made flesh…"
Erik slowly stepped down onto the floor and stepped towards her.
"You were not selfish." He told her quietly. "You were just … desperate. I understand that. And as cruel as it sounds… what you were suffering made it easier for me at the time. Knowing I wasn't alone in my pain ... that we could both somehow find a sense of happiness and peace with each other … I am not surprised at all by what you've just told me…"
He reached up, gently brushing his fingertips briefly down her cheek. Then he smiled and turned back to the latest mirror that had his attention.
"How does Trieste sound? In Austria?" he asked abruptly. "We can go anywhere you choose. It is entirely up to you. There are only a few places I cannot go: Persia, of course. Then there is India, Afghanistan, and Turkey. Beyond those four places, the world is ours!"
Arabella blinked up at Erik in shock.
"You say that as though we were really going to leave Paris." She said in disbelief.
Erik barked out a short laugh in response.
"We are." He stated. "I cannot … Paris… I have to leave Paris, ma belle. I have to. If I do not leave Paris soon … I know I will not be able to hold to the letter of my promises. I know myself, ma belle. I need to get as far away from this Opera House - as far from her - as I can. I may as well be honest about that!"
Arabella stared up at him … not knowing what to say.
"You said you were too frightened to start a new life up there…" she breathed.
"I am more accustomed to having you at my side now…" he admitted. "With you I am not half so afraid of anything. I am ready, Bella. I would rather risk failure than stay here knowing that every single day I might hurt you more somehow. The further I am from Christine … the better it will be. The more I can move on from that …"
He frowned as he lay down the latest mirror on top of the others as he thought of something.
"I mean it, Bella." He insisted, turning to her again. "I want to … work again. I want to come home every night to my sweet gypsy dancer. All I sincerely ask is that we live in a small town where we can have the modern amenities and luxuries I am now so used to … running water, a chance for electricity … you know… I want to be close to a city with an Opera – or at least a Theater with more than trashy vaudeville and burlesque shows!"
Warmth filled her as Arabella found herself grinning, reaching up to frame his face in her hands.
"Erik … that kind of endeavor is going to take so much money!"
"Do you really think I have been spending an entire 20,000 francs a month all this time?" he laughed almost giddily. "And of course, there are the smaller thefts I have committed through the years! That adds up after a time, ma belle! I have more than enough money to outright buy you the very house of your dreams – if it exists! I can replace every single thing in this house! It is not necessary, I realize, but I could! Please … tell me where you want to go."
Arabella bit her lower lip, beginning to gnaw on it thoughtfully.
"Is Trieste … is it beautiful? Is there a great deal of nearby nature and wilderness?"
"Honestly…" Erik shifted uncomfortably in embarrassment. "I have only heard of the place. I have not actually been to the city. But wherever we went, ma belle, I would take you to the countryside any day that you needed – work permitting, of course!"
The thought of having to schedule holiday with his own wife due to work had him suddenly laughing again, and he actually needed to sit down until he could make himself stop. He seemed giddy. Arabella watched him, still grinning even though she was feeling a very confusing combination of hope, joy, and worry.
"Then … then I do not need other options." She promised. "We go to Trieste, if you want that. And … because we will be leaving … it is only fair we attend this Opera … while we still can. You know nothing will ever hold a candle to its current company …"
Erik sobered almost instantly. He glared at her – but it was an amused kind of glare.
"You wish to test me?" he asked. "You wish to tempt me?"
"No." she replied – with absolute honesty. "That is not what I am trying to do. Erik … planning and getting ready will take time. And I want you to be able to finally glory in what you helped to bring to this place… You should have a chance to enjoy Christine's success. We will only attend the Operas. We will not go every night – of course. But … we will go see each new production until we leave … so you can have those memories. Memories not tainted by your jealousy or regret or … darkness. You can just take joy in your pupil's success. Christine is a great singer. I would never deny that."
"I will do that … if it important to you." Erik looked doubtful. But at the same time she could see the desire in his eyes to do exactly as she suggested. "…Even if it is only a test to see if I can truly give her up in that way."
"It is not." She insisted.
"Perhaps you do not think so." Erik sighed. "Come … sit with me, ma belle… I think the rest of this chamber will have to wait until later this afternoon. It is much easier to take it down than it was to assemble – but I am some fifteen years older than I was when I put it together!"
She sat with him on the couch that had long since replaced his black one … resting her head on his shoulder and burrowing her hand into the aperture of his robe so that she can feel his heartbeat against her palm. Erik draped his arm around her shoulders, stroking her loose hair – careful to avoid snagging them in knots. For a long time they sat in easy quiet – although it was clear Erik's thoughts were not quite easy.
"Do you really want me to see her perform?" he finally whispered. "Bella… I cannot guarantee my reaction to such a thing…"
"It will be something good to carry with you." She admitted. "I do not want your last memories of her to be swamped with jealousy and pain. I want you to have happy memories of the girl you made into a prima donna performing on the stage you helped to build. So long as we only attend performances … as long as you can resist going to the mirror-"
"-I am not even tempted to do such a thing!" Erik denied vehemently … which made Arabella slightly uneasy. It felt like he was far too defensive… as though this were a lie he wished to hide.
"Then we will have good memories of marveling at her triumphs together … and then we will put this chapter of your life behind … and start a new one of our own."