Disclaimer:I want to acknowledge J.S. Bach for the incredibly beautiful song contained herein. And thank you to Leroux, etc. for the best characters on the planet!

Chapter Forty-Six

The guests began to arrive, seating themselves in the first two rows on each side of the center aisle. Father Michel took the time to introduce the Persian and his servant to the Laurents, and pleasantries were exchanged.

"Are you ready to sing, Mademoiselle?" Father Michel whispered to Amêlie, smiling.

She sighed deeply, trying to calm herself. "I certainly hope so! I am a little nervous, Father…but I want to do this…for Monsieur Erik and Mademoiselle Christine."

He patted her on the shoulder. "Child, you are a blessing." She smiled up at him, her eyesswimming with tears. "Thank you," she answered sheepishly.

The daroga discreetly studiedSuzette Laurent for a moment. "Madame, may I ask a favor of you?" he asked her in a hushed tone. She glanced at him curiously, hesitating before she answered. "Yes…." He held out to her a long scarf of white silk and smiled as he explained a wedding tradition of his homeland. She returned the smile and nodded, taking the scarf. "Of course…I would be happy to help." He bowed slightly to her, turning then to his servant, Darius.

"Do you have it?" the Persian whispered.

"Everything is already in place, Master," Darius explained, motioning with his arm to the small, decorated table near the altar. The Persian glanced at the table, settling his eyes on a small cup placed near the center, between two squat candelabras and to the left of an open Bible. He smiled satisfactorily as he took his seat.

Monsieur Laurent placed Amêlie up on a wooden stool to the far left of the altar area and helped her to adjust her gossamer wrap around her shoulders. He became emotional as he looked upon his daughter. She was not a small girl anymore…she had the beginnings of womanhood about her. Most of all, he thought, her heart is pure and full of love. He was so very proud of her. She grinned at her father and he gave her a wink of encouragement. Everyone sat quietly, waiting for a signal that the ceremony was about to begin.

Erik paced nervously in Father Michel's study, waiting for the priest to enter. Father Michel had stepped out to greet the wedding guests and had not yet returned to begin the ceremony. Where is he? Is Christine ready? What if I forget what I'm expected to say? He began to sweat and had to remove his mask to dab at the perspiration on his forehead. Suddenly, Father Michel opened the door and entered. Erik turned away quickly,replacing his mask.

"I'm sorry, Erik…I hope I didn't startle you," the old priestapologized sincerely.

Erik snorted. "Well, I suppose I deserved it."

Father Michel looked at him quizzically for a moment before a look of acknowledgement came over his face. "Ah…yes, I suppose you did," he laughed lightheartedly. "You've given me quite a fright on more than one occasion, haven't you?"

Erik laughed for a moment before his thoughts returned to the ceremony at hand. "Father," he spoke thoughtfully, "I have a few concerns."

The old priest smiled. "First, let me pin this on your coat. No groom would be properly dressed without one of these," he said softly, securing the rose to Erik's lapel. Erik stared down at it in surprise, but he remained silent. "Now, back to your concerns…my dear boy, if you didn't have them, then you wouldn't be human. But now is really not the time to discuss them…your bride will be downstairs in moments."

Erik bit the inside of his cheek. "That's…that's what I'm concerned about. She is going to be my bride, my wife. That is a responsibility like none I have shouldered before. What if I am not the kind of husband that she needs me to be?" He shot a worried glance at the priest before staring down at his shoes.

"Erik," Father Michel began softly, placing his hand on Erik's shoulder, "She will not be your burden…she will be your partner, your helpmate. And if you love her as Christ has loved you, then you will be exactly what she needs, my son. Keep your relationship with the Lord at the center of your life, and lead your wife to do the same. Everything beyond that is in the Lord's hands. Trust Him with your life and your marriage, Erik."

Erik met his gaze. "Thank you, Father," he spoke with more confidence in his voice. "Please…would you pray now?"

Father Michel nodded and drew his arms around Erik, invoking blessings upon the couple. His voice was strong and sure, and Erik took every word to heart. Finally, Father Michel patted Erik's arm. "Ready to go?"

"Yes, Father. I'm ready now."

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"I need help pinning this! Quickly!" Christine's voice trembled as she beckoned Madame Giry to her side. "I can't seem to get it to stay on." She frowned at herself in the mirror as she held her veil.

Madame Giry strode to her briskly. "Don't worry, my dear, we'll see to it. Hold still."

She had Christine's veil atop her head in moments, pinned to perfection. "Finished."

Christine smiled and closed her eyes, relieved. "Thank you." She stood and turned around to face Meg, who was dressed and ready to go, looking beautiful in her own right. "Meg, you look lovely. I am so glad that you're here with me." She reached out to tightly grasp her hand.

"Christine, I have never seen a more radiant bride. Honestly," Meg gushed, tears brimming in her eyes. "May God bless you on this day and every day," she smiled. "Now try not to cry during the ceremony, or your cosmetics will be ruined," she teased her.

"Well, then I suppose they will be ruined," Christine laughed merrily. "How can I keep from crying on the happiest day of my life?"

"It's time, my dear," Madame Giry said softly, touching Christine on the arm. "Are you certain that you're ready?"

"I know that I want to be Erik's wife more than anything, Madame…yes, I'm ready." She nodded resolutely as Madame Giry and Meg led her halfway down the wooden stairs to wait until it was her time to enter.

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Erik walked toward the altar area, following Father Michel. His palms grew clammy as he caught sight of the very small gathering of witnesses. He tried to smile at Monsieur Laurent as he caught his eye, but all he found that he could do was nod at him rather formally. The daroga stood, falling into step behind Erik in line as he passed by. Erik glanced ahead and was surprised to see Amêlie seated on a stool near the altar area. She looks absolutely lovely, he marveled, and he smiled at her. Why is she seated here? She must have a role in the ceremony, Erik realized with delight. She smiled back at him and blushed nervously. Father Michel and Erik took their places, and the daroga moved to stand silently behind Erik. Meg peered out of the upstairs door to signal their readiness, and Father Michel nodded at Amêlie to begin. She swallowed and drew in a deep breath, sitting up as tall as she was able. Her voice rang out, clear and sweet, as she sang:

Jesu, joy of man's desiring,
Holy wisdom, love most bright…

Erik smiled at Amêlie proudly as she began to sing. Slowly, he turned toward the aisle and saw several tall, lit candelabras lining each side. Meg stepped out from the doorway to the upstairs and began to glide gracefully toward the center aisle, smiling as she came. In her hands, she clutched a single red rose. Erik was a little surprised to see his former trademark flower for the second time that day. Then again, he had no idea what he should expect.


Drawn by Thee, our souls aspiring
Soar to uncreated light.
Word of God, our flesh that fashioned,
With the fire of life impassioned,
Striving still to truth unknown,
Soaring, dying round Thy throne.

Meg arrived at last at the front altar and stood at the bottom of three steps. Erik nodded at her politely and she returneda smile with nervousness, suddenly finding it strange that the Opera Ghost was standing here as a groom, like any "normal" man. She turned toward the upstairs door again as young Amêlie began the second verse:

Through the way where hope is guiding,
Hark, what peaceful music rings…

Madame Giry opened the door, holding her hand out for Christine. The younger woman took it and stepped out, trembling. She smiled self-consciously at her foster mother, who linked arms with her as they headed toward the center aisle.

Where the flock, in Thee confiding,
Drink of joy from deathless springs.
Theirs is beauty's fairest pleasure;
Theirs is wisdom's holiest treasure.

Time seemed to stop momentarily as Christine reached the aisle and Erik feasted his eyes upon his bride. She was a vision in shimmering white, her veil slightly obscuring her face. Her auburn waves were loose and flowing freely about her exposed shoulders, and a lump formed in his dry throat at the sight of her. She seemed to glow in the candlelight, appearing more beautiful and angelic than he had ever dreamed. His eyes were drawn to her waist, where she clutched a bouquet of several deep red roses. He nearly gasped as he noticed that they were tied round with a large, thick, black ribbon. He had thought at one time that she might wish to forget such a symbol of their past, but to his immense delight, she had embraced it fully.

Thou dost ever lead Thine own
In the love of joys unknown.

Tears sprang to his eyes. Oh, Lord, can this be happening? Is this pure and lovely creature truly to be my bride at last? I don't deserve her…but I pray that this is not a dream! His heart felt as though it were about to burst when Christine's eyes met his as Madame Giry stopped a few feet from him. She glanced at Father Michel and waited. Erik could not tear his eyes from Christine's radiant countenance.

"Who gives this woman to be married to this man?" Erik heard Father Michel speak, startling him from his reverie.

"I do," Madame Giry replied, turning and lifting Christine's veil, and placing a light kiss upon her cheek. She gently lay the veil over her face again and smiled. Erik took a timid step toward them and Madame Giry took Christine's arm, placing it within Erik's. He gazed down at his bride in wonder and love as her eyes roamed over his face, taking in every shadow and nuance that looked so incredibly surreal in the candlelight. Erik's white mask seemed to glow, and his entire appearance nearly left her breathless. Christine shyly turned her gaze from him, realizing that he was now smiling at her, his full lips curved slightly upward at the corners. She shivered at the emotion that coursed through her at that moment. Her pulse quickened and her mouth went completely dry as she silently prayed that her knees would not give way during the ceremony.

Erik led Christine forward as Father Michel beckoned them to come up to the second of the three steps at the altar area. Christine turned quickly before they approached, handing Meg her bouquet of roses. Madame Laurent stood from her seat and leaned over to Madame Giry. "I need your help with something," she whispered to her. "It's a Persian tradition." The older woman was slightly put-off by this unexpected recruitment, but she graciously stood and took one end of the white silk scarf from Madame Laurent. Suzette continued to hold the other end tightly, and the ladies stood on the top step on either side of Father Michel, Madame Giry on the bride's side and Madame Suzette on the groom's. They stretched out the scarf and held it at waist level, awaiting some sort of cue from the Persian.

Erik turned to the daroga beside him as the ladies approached, and shot him a puzzled glance. The elderly man simply raised his eyebrows at Erik and smirked, shifting his weight awkwardly.

"Friends and loved ones," Father Michel began warmly, "we are gathered here this evening to witness the joining of Erik and Christine in holy matrimony. These two hearts have been through many trials and tribulations to arrive at this point, and we rejoice with them as they have at last found love with each other and peace with God. Marriage is a true and lasting covenant that is not to be entered into lightly. It is a commitment to remain true to another person for a lifetime. Erik and Christine, I charge you to remember this at all times, no matter what may occur. As our Lord Jesus Christ said, 'In this world, you will have trouble, but take heart, for I have overcome the world.' He has given you to each other so that you might be an example of His love. You can do all things through Christ, and together as husband and wife, you can overcome anything." He turned his attention to Erik then, raising his eyebrows. "Would you both please join hands at this time?"

They did so, and Erik's chest seemed to tighten as he gazed into the face of his beloved. His thoughts swam with memories of her, of her voice, her touch, her kiss…and his mind began to wander to thoughts of what their wedding night might be like. He suddenly felt ashamed of himself, and his cheeks reddened. Christine noticed it and smiled abashedly at him, as if she herself had been thinking the same thing. Father Michel was speaking something about "husbands loving their wives and wives loving their husbands" but neither Erik nor Christine was able to concentrate on his words.

After a few moments, Father Michel addressed the daroga and Erik snapped back to attention as the Persian moved to stand next to the priest. Carefully lifting the Bible from the small table in the center, he read the passage to where it had been opened. However, he read it in Farsi first, and the wedding guests listened in awe to the strange tongue without understanding what was being read. Erik alone understood him, and tears began to fill his eyes, not only because of the words that his friend was reading, but because he was reading from the Bible…he, a devout Muslim. Erik knew that the Persian was doing such a thing out of a great love for him, and it moved him immensely. After several seconds of this, he began to speak so that others could understand, though with a heavy accent. "In the Holy Bible, in the book of First Corinthians, Chapter Thirteen, it reads: "If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing. Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends."

He closed the Bible gently, placed it back on the small table and returned to his place behind Erik, meeting his friend's eyes for a split second as he did so. It was long enough for Erik to see that the daroga was becoming emotional. Erik turned his gaze back to Christine and smiled tenderly, seeing that she also had been moved by the reading. He squeezed her hands gently, caressing them with his thumbs. Love, he mused. Real love…something I've never had before…until now. Help me, God, to truly love this woman who now stands before me, unselfishly and completely.

The Persian motioned to the ladies holding the silk scarf and they raised it up high, over the heads of Erik and Christine. Christine did not understand the gesture, but she was certain that Erik did by the way his eyes began to moisten again when he saw the scarf being lifted. He leaned forward slightly and whispered to her as softly as he could, "a Persian blessing." She nodded and smiled admiringly at her husband-to-be. Attending a Persian wedding had been one of the few things that Erik recalled fondly from his time spent there. Their ceremonies were always so beautiful…so intimate and symbolic. At the time, he did not think so…but now, things were very different. This was his wedding.

"You will now exchange your vows." Father Michel gave Erik a slight smile as he turned to him. "Erik, will you have this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to keep yourself only for her, to love her sacrificially as Christ loved the Church, to honor and cherish her from this day forward, in plenty and in want, in sickness and in health, until death shall separate you?"

"I will," Erik answered with a lump in his throat. He lost himself in Christine's deep brown eyes as he listened intently to every word that Father Michel spoke, and he meant it with his whole heart when he made his promise to Christine before God.

Father Michel nodded and turned to Christine. He gave her an encouraging wink as he began. "Christine, will you have this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to keep yourself only for him, to love him and submit to him as you would to Christ, to honor him and be apillar of supportto him from this day forward, in plenty and in want, in sickness and in health, until death shall separate you?"

Christine's mind was racing. Please, help me, Lord, to do all that I promise here today. "I will," she answered, all the while watching Erik's expression of indescribable pleasure at her response.

Father Michel smiled and turned to the Persian. "Do you have the rings?" The daroga stepped forward and pulled the two platinum bands from his breast pocket. He handed them to the priest and stepped back. "Erik, take Christine's left hand and repeat after me, please." He held out the small band and Erik took it, praying that he would be able to keep his grasp on it in his moist hands.

Erik held the ring before Christine's finger and studied her face beneath the veil. She gasped at the beauty of the band, which resembled vines interwoven. It reminded her of the roses that Erik had always given her, just as he had hoped. Father Michel began, "With this ring, I wed you, and all my worldly goods I give to you; In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost; Amen." Erik repeated the vow and slid the ring gently on to Christine's petite finger. She gazed at him in awe, a single tear releasing to slide down her cheek.

Father Michel turned to Christine and handed her Erik's platinum band. She turned it in her fingers carefully. It's perfect…it suits him wonderfully. She looked at his face and saw that he was gazing at her intently. She blinked her tears back and repeated after Father Michel the same vow that Erik had spoken. She slid the handsome ring on to his finger and grasped both of his hands tightly.

"Erik?" Father Michel smiled. "I believe you wished to say something to Christine?" Erik nodded, taking a deep breath and gazing lovingly at his bride. "King Solomon said, 'Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave. It burns like a blazing fire, like a mighty flame. Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot wash it away.'" He paused for a moment as a look of recognition crossed Christine's face. She glanced at Father Michel, who was smiling humbly. Erik continued, "Christine, we have been through many waters and rivers, and our love is stronger than ever. I thought once that I had lost you forever, and that death would have been welcome. But I thank the Lord that He redeemed my life and brought us together again. I pray that our love will grow stronger over the course of our lives, and that it will burn brightly even into eternity." Christine began to cry and raised her hand to caress his cheek. He rested his face against it, and reached up to grasp her fingers. "I love you with all that is in me. And though I will never be worthy of it, I thank you for loving me in return."

Father Michel nodded and turned to Christine. "Christine, is there something that you would like to say to Erik?" She swallowed hard and her mind immediately went blank. She prayed to remember what she had meant to say, but nothing came. At last she began, faltering slightly. "Erik, you have been my teacher, my friend, my encourager, and my love. I am so thankful for you…and for a second chance to choose a life with you. Once…once you were in darkness, but now you walk in the light, my Angel. I choose to go with you, wherever you go. I thank the Lord for our love, and I give Him praise this day." She drew in a breath and lifted her chin slightly. Erik held her hands in anticipation as he realized what she was about to do.

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A/N: Hmmm...what's she gonna do? Oh, you already know, don't you? Yes, the next chapter will be a continuation of the ceremony. And after that...well, what usually comes after a wedding? Hmmm...I'm thinking, I'm thinking...nope, no idea.-grins- Thanks to those of you who reviewed. I appreciate it, truly. It's so encouraging! I'm showing a lot of hits, but only a few reviews. I've noticed that the "M" rated fics usually get a lot more reviews. Just found it interesting, that's all. Come on, you "T" rated readers! Come on! You can do it! Review! -smiles-