Part 1: The Island of Love
Eighteen years later…
Christine stood where the ocean waves kissed the land, her eyes closed, and her face to the wind. She sensed the moisture that hung like a fragile sheet of silk upon the breeze, and could feel the thunder clouds building in the northwest. Opening her eyes, she watched as layers of grayish clouds formed, concealing the descending sun on the horizon. Sparkling inside those puffy clouds, bolts of lightning intermittently appeared, brilliant shocks of white in the dark orangey sky, forking silently before barely touching the unsuspecting sea. She inhaled deeply, the sweet smell of the verdant grass filled her nostrils as it waved in the breeze behind her, yet she could still taste the tangy salt of the vast sea in front of her. Smiling, she turned and spoke to the powerful white stallion that stood beside her.
"There is an early storm approaching, Claudius. Tomorrow, or perhaps by midnight tonight at the earliest."
As if it understanding her every word, the horse lifted his nose to the air and whinnied. In the field behind them, a dozen other horses raised their heads. Then, as if connected by invisible strings, they all sprang into a gallop, racing wildly across the flat grassland. The stallion reared, declaring his pride and dashed after them.
Christine laughed, feeling the ground tremble with their pounding hooves.
"Tis a foolish waste of energy, if you ask me," grumbled an elderly, rotund woman who was slowly climbing the last few steps up the coastal rocks toward the young girl.
"Only because you cannot run with them, Mother," Christine replied, smiling at the exhausted woman. "If your legs were as long and strong as theirs, you would be racing the colts."
"Humph, I would beat them too," her mother replied in a grumpy tone, raising her right hand to wipe off the hot streaks of sweats from her sun-kissed face, frantically trying to catch her breath.
"Indeed. I think you still could," said Christine.
Her mother, Jameela, smiled sadly as she watched the herd skid to a stop before racing back in the other direction. She sighed, "I am growing old, my dear. And I fear for you, all alone here without anyone. What if an accident should befall you?"
Jameela often felt older than she truly was, with years and hard labor having taken its toll. Her grey hair that framed her weathered face was neatly wrapped inside a piece of cloth that held it in place. Her forehead was wrinkled with many peaks and valleys, caused by years of work and worry. Yet despite all that, Jameela's eyes always shined with immense kindness and harbored an abundance of affection for the young woman standing in front of her, whom she called daughter.
Christine laughed again. Tossing her mahogany hair behind her, she gracefully strode down the field without faltering. "Mother, you worry for nothing. I have all I need and I will never be alone. The horses are my brothers and sisters, and you are strong and hearty. I have never known what it is to be alone. Fear naught, Mother. All is well."
Christine paused as the white stallion reached her, warm and restless from his exertions. She grasped Claudius' mane and pulled herself atop his withers. Gripping him with her thighs, she sent him galloping again, this time speeding through the herd and scattering the mares in all directions.
Jameela watched her with a smile of pride. Christine was a beautiful young woman, her glorious dark hair flowing wildly down her back, alive with auburn highlights. Her skin had been kissed by the sun and her beautiful expressive eyes were the color of the bright blue ocean, fringed with long sable lashes. She was rather tall for a woman, yet rode with confidence and pride.
Her lovely daughter was also gifted with an ethereal voice, pure and melodious as an angel from heaven. Once in a while, when she sang, the birds from the tree branches and little furry animals from overhead and underground gathered around her, joining in her sweet song. Wherever Christine went, she walked in springtime.
But, as all mothers do, Jameela couldn't help but be concerned for her. Christine feared nothing. Her willful spirit often caused her to ignore caution, for she had yet to discover that life was dangerously unpredictable. On this isolated island, away from civilization, she functioned well, knowing every stone, tree, and meadow, having lived among them her entire young life. Christine could feel the environment as if she were an integral part of it. Yet, regardless of all that, there were still dangers that threatened to harm her. Jameela also feared a simple misstep could result in a broken leg, or worse, especially since she would not be around to look after the girl forever. Christine, however, dismissed her mother's concerns, innocently convinced that nothing bad would happen to her.
"You are a fool, Christine!" Jameela yelled after her. "Life can change in an instant. All that you believe is permanent can easily be gone with tomorrow's sunrise!"
Christine wheeled the stallion and tilted her face into the wind. "Nothing will change," she shouted. "This island will be my home, and you will be my mother, forever." She tossed her hair and flung out her arms. "Here is everything I will ever want!"
Her mother shook her head, remembering how her own life had significantly altered over the years. As she watched Christine spin once again and gallop away, Jameela thought back to how she and her late husband came to the island nearly twenty years ago.
Before coming to this island, Jameela and her beloved Arib had belonged to a gypsy caravan which originated from Middle East. There had only been the four of them, with Magen, and Jal being the other members of the group. Arib and Jameela were happily married while Magen and Jal had been their good friends since they were all children. The caravan went from place to place performing musical recitals for money on the streets of France, and Jameela had been their star singer and dancer. Their performances were spectacular and no matter where they went, people from all around would gather to watch them.
The four lived happily together until one day tragedy struck and everything was shattered…
One dark night, while everyone slept, a band of soldiers led by Judge Pheobus, Paris' Minister of Justice, came to arrest them. The Judge had a longstanding hatred for gypsies, and swore to see them wiped from his city at all costs. Magen and Jal were brutally murdered while attempting to defend the group, and while Arib and Jameela survived, they were taken away in chains. Arib was thrown into the dungeons, while Jameela was escorted by a couple of guards to an opulent bedchamber, where she was given an ultimatum: become Pheobus' mistress, or die. When she firmly refused his advances, he locked her in the chamber for three days without any nourishment. Miraculously, Arib somehow managed to escape his hellish prison and find her, carrying her weakened body out of the city and fled towards the sea.
Pheobus sent his men after the couple, but fortunately Arib and Jameela found an abandoned boat next to the dock not too far from Pheobus's castle. Climbing inside they sailed away, and after many days at sea, their vessel came to rest on the shores of the Island of the Wild Horses. Seeing it as the hand of Providence, they embraced their new lives, claiming it as their own permanent haven, and over the years they completely lost connection to the outside world.
The couple settled down on this remote island, happily spending their lives together in a small cottage which they built themselves. Their daily food consisted of edible vegetables, fruits and fishes. Their lives in the beginning were hard but the couple was simply happy to be together and safe. And if someday God granted them a child, nothing in this world would have been more perfect than that. Sadly, however, the couple remained fruitless until...
On one of his many trips out to sea to catch fish, Arib had come across another boat the unpredictable currents had pulled from some distant land and set adrift in the immense ocean. Inside the small vessel lay a crying infant. Arib brought the babe home to their cottage, and from that moment on the couple had raised the baby as their own.
The infant had been hungry and helpless, but had clearly once been blessed with love, for her blankets were made of the finest, handwoven wool. Yet what truly stunned the couple was that inside the blankets they discovered a blue diamond necklace and a bag of silver coins. The necklace was breathtaking, and must have been worth a fortune. Behind the diamond, engraved on the metal backing was the word "Daaé". While Jameela and Arib had no idea what that meant, they thought perhaps it was the babe's parents' surname. Yet, on this remote island with no other habitants besides Arib and Jameela, the expensive items really held no value. To them, the child itself was far more important, and with that in mind, the couple simply put the items away and completely ignored them.
Raising the little girl had been difficult at first because the couple had never had to care for an infant. However, as time passed, the task had become more familiar and they came to love the girl they named Christine as dearly as if she were their own. Tragically, two years ago, Arib passed away from illness, devastating the small family, especially Jameela. Yet, with Christine by her side, the bereft widow found the will to go on, and had continued to feel as if her life was very blessed. The girl had been an attentive daughter and a great companion to her mother, leaving Jameela to wonder what she would ever have done without the lass. During the daytime, Christine went out to look for food, while her mother would stay at home and do house chores. At night, when they ate together, Christine would tell her mother of her adventures on the island and sing a sweet lullaby to her before bedtime to sooth her soul.
Now as she watched Christine racing around on the stallion, she smiled to herself and nodded with pleasure. The girl had given her a reason to live a meaningful life, and the joy she had brought to both her and Arib was immeasurable. Christine had grown up so fast and lately Jameela felt like her time on this earth was near ending.
As night descended, Christine and her mother did their evening chores with little discussion. Jameela built a fire while Christine cleaned and prepared the mushrooms she had picked from the garden. As the older woman moved toward her chair to rest, Christine walked briskly outside to collect water. The sky was dark, but she knew the path to the water hole by heart, knowing where each root and stones made the path unsteady. She was finely tuned to the sounds of the insects as they clicked and chirped, guiding her along until she reached her destination. Without hesitation, she dipped her bucket into the stream, using her fingers and the weight of the water to tell her when it was full.
Christine returned to the cottage and poured some water into the pot with the mushrooms. Then she selected two dried herbs from the wall where they hung, and crumbled them into the water. Mother grunted her approval while watching her daughter, before pulling a blanket over her knees.
"You will need to bring in the clothes that I hung the morning. Otherwise they will get wet in the storm."
"Yes, mother. I already did that," replied Christine, a bit annoyed.
"What about the wood? Do we have enough?"
"Yes. I took care of that as well."
"What about…."
"Mother!" Christine sighed in exasperation. "It is only a storm, one that will bring great delight. We have weathered many storms and I know how to prepare." She then gave her mother a fond smile, her tone now light and teasing. "Now, cease this nagging and eat." With that having said, the two women settled in and had their dinner in companionable silence. When they were finished, Christine did the cleanup and her mother headed off to bed.
A/N: Thank you both betas Fantomphan33 & Erik'sTrueAngel for reviewing and editing the chapter. You both are awesome.