Christine walked several blocks as the sky began to grow darker. Why did I leave the shop? she thought to herself. I will have to walk back alone in the darkness. She felt a chill as the realization dawned on her. She was alone…completely and utterly alone, for the first time in her life. Not even when her father died had she truly been alone, because Madame Giry and Meg had become her family. But now…I have alienated everyone I love, except for the Girys…and I do not even know where I might find them! Hot tears began to spill down her cheeks and she wiped them away, frustrated with herself. Stop it, Christine! But the tears still came.
Finally, she reached her destination. The doors were still unlocked. Stepping inside, the warm glow of candles greeted her. The church was empty and she took a moment to light a candle for her father, as she always had. Father, I miss you…and I feel so alone. You sent me an Angel…and I did not recognize until now that he was the best thing that has ever happened to me. She crossed herself and knelt for a moment before seating herself in an empty pew at the back of the church. Everything was so silent that she thought for a moment that Father Michel wasn't there. A noise to her left caused her to jump suddenly, and he emerged from his study.
"M-Mademoiselle Daae?" he stammered, clearly shocked to see her sitting there alone. "Is everything alright?" His brow wrinkled with concern as he quickly approached her.
"Oh, Father!" she cried, burying her face in her hands. Her body racked with sobs and she could not make them stop.
"Mademoiselle? What on earth has happened to you?" He sat down beside her and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.
At last, the sobbing began to subside. Christine raised her head and looked at Father Michel with puffy eyes. "I've done it, Father."
"What have you done, Mademoiselle?"
"I've broken my engagement. And now I am alone and have no one and nothing…"
"What do you mean, child? You are not alone—you have the Laurents, and myself, and…Erik…"
"No, Father, I do not." She sniffled and tried to compose herself, but her lower lip was still quivering. "The Laurents are friends of my fian—former fiancé, and Erik…well, Erik…"
"Erik what, child? Does he know about this?"
Christine shook her head. "No. I mean, I told him that I was going to end my engagement, but he…he doesn't know that I've already done it and that I am alone now. Raoul…my former fiancé…asked me to leave his home immediately after I told him that I could not marry him. I have no family, Father…save my foster mother and her daughter, but I do not know where they are living. And…and I just can't go to Erik! He will think that I've only come to him b-because…I have nowhere else to go!" Hot tears began to fill her eyes once more.
"Child, are you now without a place to live?" he asked incredulously. "Your former fiancé asked you to leave without knowing if you would find a place to stay?"
"Yes, he did, but I have found a temporary place to sleep," she sniffled. She felt a surge of pride and she stuck out her chin slightly. "I have secured employment at a seamstress shop several blocks from here. And I can stay there until I have saved enough money to find a more…permanent residence."
"Well, thank Heaven for that!" He sighed and shook his head. "I am so sorry that this has happened to you, Mademoiselle Daae. You seem like a lovely young woman, and surely you do not deserve to be thrown out on the street--"
She interrupted him. "Oh, yes, a lovely young woman I am! So lovely, in fact, that I have hurt everyone who has ever loved me!" she cried, wallowing in self-pity. "I deserve whatever pain I receive, Father. I realize that now."
He shook his head. "You sound just like Erik."
"W-what?"
He sighed. "God wants what is best for your life, Mademoiselle. You must view this as an opportunity to grow…to find out who He truly wants you to become." This conversation is all too familiar, he chuckled to himself.
"I…I have never known who I really am…perhaps you are right, Father," she said slowly, as if she were analyzing each word individually.
"There! You see? Even a priest can have something valuable to say at times," he laughed.
Christine let out a giggle. Then her expression suddenly turned serious. "Father…do you think that Erik and I will ever be…together?"
"Oh, Mademoiselle, only God knows. But many waters cannot quench love, nor can rivers wash it away."
"That's lovely! Where did you hear that?"
"King Solomon." He chuckled. "He was very wise, you know, until…he made some foolish decisions."
"Really? What did he do?"
Father Michel cleared his throat. "He chose to do things his own way rather than God's."
"Oh." She looked down at her feet. "So…what you are saying is…that I should let God handle things?"
"I couldn't have said it better myself," he winked.
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Erik stood quickly to answer a knock at the door. A servant of the main house stood there, holding an envelope. "Monsieur, this came for you a short while ago." He bowed slightly and turned to leave. "Thank you," Erik replied.
He closed the door and looked at the return address—it was from Monsieur Renault. He ripped it open, nearly slicing his skin on the paper, and read the contents:
Dear Monsieur Durand:
As you can see from the line above, all has been made legal regarding your surname.
I am also writing to inform you that I contacted Monsieur Giroux of Giroux & Associates this morning and your salary will be sent directly to me and deposited into your account.
It has been a pleasure serving you again. If there is anything that I might do to assist you in the future, please do not hesitate to contact me.
Sincerely Yours,
Philippe Renault
And now I suppose that he will want his "reward" for his assistance, Erik thought smugly. But for once, he was actually quite satisfied. He tucked several hundred francs into an envelope with a note of thanks and signed it: Erik Durand. He thought it looked strange…his first name now completed with an actual, legal surname. He marveled at how his circumstances had changed after less than two weeks. He had gone from being a Phantom to being a real man with real employment and a real name. How he wished for the remaining thing to become his: a real wife. But I have more than I ever dreamed possible at this moment, even without…her. He said a silent prayer of thanks to the One who had made it all possible. I believe this calls for a celebration, he thought, as he snatched up his cloak and exited the house.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Mademoiselle, I was wondering…and forgive me for asking,but… have you eaten today?" Father Michel asked her, slightly concerned for her wellbeing.
"I…I had a sandwich earlier, Father." She looked at him quizzically, caught a bit off guard by the question.
"Oh. Very good, then. I would hate for you to go hungry. Have…have you any plans for supper?" He smiled as though embarrassed. What right do I have to ask these questions? he thought. Still, she has no family, and everyone needs a friend to look after them, don't they?
"Well, I…" she sighed. "No, not really. Madame Dubois, the seamstress, said that she had a few things in the shop kitchen that I could eat if I wished, but—"
"Well, then, it's settled. You will eat supper here with me! I have plenty and I don't mind sharing. After all, one can see I could stand to make my meal portions…a bit smaller!" he laughed, patting his somewhat round belly.
Christine giggled again. I like this priest, she thought. He is like a breath of fresh air for me! "Alright, I shall stay, then. If you insist, Father."
"I most certainly do," he stated matter-of-factly. "Now, the kitchen is right over here, so please go in and look around and help yourself to whatever you like. I will put a kettle on in my study."
Christine nodded. She went to the large curtain and pulled it back. What a clever place to put a kitchen, she thought. You'd never even know that it was here! She stepped behind the curtain, letting it fall back against the wall again.
Father Michel put the kettle over the fire in his study and went to the curio to retrieve two teacups. He nearly dropped one when he turned and caught sight of an imposing figure standing in the doorway of his study.
"ERIK!" the old priest nearly shouted. "My goodness, you startled me!"
Erik strode in with a swagger, pushing his cloak from his head. Smiling a wide, toothy grin, he replied, "I told you before, old man, I have to make an entrance!"
Father Michel laughed and embraced Erik in a fatherly gesture, teacups still in hand. "It's good to see you again, my boy! To what do I owe this honor?"
"I am a new man, Father. I came by to celebrate with you," he said, producing a bottle of wine, "that I am the proud bearer of a surname at last!"
"That's wonderful! So, what is this new name of yours?" Father Michel winked.
"Durand. Erik Durand. What do you think of it?" he smiled.
"Durand…it seems like a fine name to me, Erik. A fine name," he chuckled.
Erik glanced down at the teacups in the priest's hands. "Expecting me, were you?"
Father Michel gasped. He had completely forgotten about Christine when Erik startled him. "Oh…oh, my! Uh…no, Erik…I'm afraid that this other teacup is for…my visitor."
Erik immediately tensed and turned to leave. "You—you have someone here? I-I'm sorry. I must go…what if someone sees me?"
"Erik, wait!" Father Michel began. "It's…it's perfectly safe. I'll…think of something. You just wait here, please." Erik reluctantly stayed, but he walked to the darkest corner of the room so he could conceal himself should anyone walk in unexpectedly. He blended in quite well with the surroundings…he was barely noticeable in the shadows when fully cloaked.
Father Michel closed the study door behind him just as Christine was emerging from the kitchen alcove, carrying two plates, balanced very precariously in her arms. Thank goodness she is employed as a seamstress and not as a waitress, he thought, amused.
"Mademoiselle…uh…I…I…" he stammered, having no idea what to do in such an awkward situation. And then it came to him suddenly. Why am I nervous about this? Could this be the Lord's hand at work?
"Father?" she stared at him, concerned. "Is something wrong?"
"No, no, there's nothing wrong," he replied nervously, quickly taking one of the plates from her arms. "Thank you so much for making two plates. Did—did you find everything you needed?"
"Yes," she smiled. "I so appreciate your generosity. I hope that someday I can repay you."
"Oh, nonsense," he replied, turning red-faced. "We are all called to be generous, are we not?"
"Yes, I suppose you're right. But nonetheless, thank you," she smiled sweetly. "Did you say you had a kettle on in your study? I would love some tea!"
Father Michel's nervousness was gradually beginning to fade. "Yes. Yes I do have tea in the study. Would you care to eat your supper there?"
"Unless you would rather I get crumbs on your lovely pews," she laughed.
"Right this way." He turned and stepped to the study door, turning the knob. "Ladies first, Mademoiselle," he smiled in anticipation.
What has gotten into this man? Christine wondered. He is suddenly acting very strangely. "Father…are you certain that you are alright?"
He nodded and she turned slowly, stepping through the door into the dimly lit study, with Father Michel following closely behind.
Christine noticed the glow of the fire immediately, and the silver kettle. Her eyes wandered over to the curio cabinet and then to the other side of the room where she saw a large bookcase and a desk and…did something just move in the corner of the room? She jumped and let out a small cry, nearly dropping her plate.
Erik stepped forward from the shadows, pushing the cowl of his cloak from his head. "Christine?"
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A/N: Well, it seems that my stats have gone awry. They're stuck, and they're actually showing that NO ONE has read the last three or four chapters, which I know can't be true, because several of you have REVIEWED on those chapters. -sigh- How depressing. So, lemme know if you're reading, okay? Drop me a quick review!