A/N: Thanks everyone, for the reviews! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter!

Chapter Sixty-Five

Christine awoke in the morning, alone in their large bed. Erik's side had not been slept in. She had heard him during the night, talking and weeping and praying aloud, and at one point, she had been awakened by the sound of breaking glass and pottery. Oh, no...not my new dishes! she had thought mournfully, before she succumbed to a fitful sleep once again.

She lifted herself to a sitting position and reached for the crackers on her bedside table. As she nibbled on a few, she listened for any sounds of life in the house. Nothing. After a short time, her stomach was settled enough to rise from the bed, and she drew her robe around her shoulders as she left the bedroom.

She found her husband sprawled upon the settee, his tall frame resting uncomfortably on the cushions and his arm thrown up over his eyes. He was breathing deeply. Well, he's finally exhausted himself, I see, she thought with a smirk. She was still upset with him for his behavior toward Father Michel the night before...

Erik had nearly broken the kitchen table upon hearing the priest's intention to help the children of a people that had done great harm to Erik in his own childhood. He had slammed his clenched fist upon the tabletop so forcefully that it sent a small crack through the wood and quickly turned his fist a deep shade of purple. Father Michel remained calm during this tirade, as Erik paced and shouted and seethed with rage, and he did not utter a word when Erik cooled enough to ask him to leave the house at once...without supper ever being served. It was almost as if Father Michel expected him to behave in such a manner, Christine realized. Apologizing profusely, she had seen the old priest to the door while Erik retreated into his study, and she immediately went to bed, knowing that a rational discussion with her husband would not be possible that night.

Now, here he was, asleep, completely peaceful again. She wondered if his rage would be tempered once he awakened, and decided to busy herself by cleaning up the mess that was most certainly strewn across the kitchen floor. After spending several minutes sweeping up the shards of broken dishes, she caught sight of his dark form standing in the doorway. "Good morning," she greeted him, as pleasantly as she could muster.

He said nothing, but skulked across the kitchen to seat himself at the table. She continued to sweep, watching him as he rubbed his eyes and laid his head in his hands. Lord, change his heart, she prayed. Make him see that this is Your will, and that it has nothing to do with him at all!

"Can I make you some coffee?" She couldn't stay upset with him for long, and she knew it.

He looked up at her blankly. "Hmmm?"

"Coffee?" she repeated.

"No...thank you."

She continued to clean up the mess as he sat there, head in his hands again, unmoving. He has retreated into himself again. Draw him out...You are the only One who can, she prayed. She felt utterly helpless, knowing that he was in pain and there was little she could do to help him. She turned aside and gathered up the remaining shards of glass and pottery with her broom. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a movement in his shoulders and abruptly faced him again, disturbed by his posture. The shaking of his shoulders became rhythmic as she watched him in disbelief. She had been witness to Erik's tears of extreme pain only one other time...

The memory sent a fresh shock of regret through her heart. Slowly, she leaned the broom against the wall and approached him, pondering her next action. Standing near enough to touch, she reached out and grasped one of his hands. He did not pull away as she expected, but returned her gesture with a firm hold of his own. She moved closer to him and they remained there until Erik's display of grief subsided. He raised his head to look at her, his eyes bloodshot from weeping and poor sleep.

"I'm sorry, Christine. I shouldn't have...I didn't mean to...oh, forgive me!" he groaned, hoping that both his God and his wife would see fit to do so. "I may have lost the only father I ever truly had!" His eyes were still moist with tears as his mouth twisted in anguish.

"Erik...shhh. That's not true! Father Michel loves you, and I'm sure he understands. You must go to him and make things right." She placed her other hand upon his disheveled hair. "And I forgive you, mon amour."

He blinked a few tears from his eyes and gazed at her with unabashed gratitude. "I'm so thankful for you. And for...our baby. But I don't want to see him go...I feel as though I still need Father Michel in my life, and I don't want to lose him now. His friendship is...very important to me..."

"I know. And you know that he would never wish to leave you, either...but he must be obedient to the Lord in this. Surely you can understand that."

"Yes." He caressed her cheek. "I do understand." He thought for a moment before adding, "I have been feeling lately that He may ask something new of me as well...I don't know what it is, but..."

"Other than your work at the firm?"

He nodded, releasing a tired sigh. "I'm happy right now in my life, and I would just rather not have it altered considerably," he said with some bitterness. "And I'm afraid that once again, He is seeing fit to change things. I dislike change...when I'm not the one choosing the change."

She moved behind him, encircling his broad shoulders with her arms. "Erik, do you believe that He has your best...our best...in mind?"

He shrugged and then felt guilty for it. "I mean...yes, I suppose so."

"If He hadn't seen fit to change things, Erik, we wouldn't even be together right now." She kissed the top of his ear. "I know that I will likely never return to singing as I once did, which was not at all my choice, and it saddens me...but I also believe that He has even greater things planned. Like that verse says...about giving us a hope and a future."

He had to smile at her innocence. "I believe that, too." He pressed a kiss to her open palm and shifted his weight in the chair. "I need to get dressed and go into town to see Father Michel...and then unfortunately, I'll need to make the trip to Melun to check in at the firm. Will you be alright here until I get back?"

She laughed, looking at the pile of broken dishes on the floor. "Oh, I'm sure I can find something to do around here while you're gone...along with my daily nap," she smiled.

He stood, kissing her forehead. "I'm sorry about the mess. Let me clean it up...please."

"No," she said, wagging her finger at him. "Broken dishes don't matter, but injured friendships do. Now go."

"My, my, aren't we profound today?" he teased her. "If you insist. I'll be back by nightfall, I promise." He ran a hand through his hair, grinning. "With some new dishes."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Erik stood at the side entrance to the church, berating himself. I should never have opened my mouth! I was blinded by my pain...those Rroma children had nothing to do with my childhood, yet I acted as if he were committing a criminal offense! He grasped the door handle and pulled. It gave way as it always had, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Give me the right words.

Erik lowered the cowl of his cloak, revealing his masked and wigged visage in the church, as his keen ears detected the sound of books being stacked. It was coming from Father Michel's study, and he quietly moved around the pews to the other side of the sanctuary.

He stepped to the open study doorway and cleared his throat. Without looking up, Father Michel quipped, "Have you come here armed with weapons of some sort?"

Erik approached the old priest, his steps silent and fluid as always, who was standing at the bookshelf with his back to him. "Just my sharp tongue," he replied, finding Father Michel's question amusing, yet disturbing. "But I've sheathed it for the moment...I've come to apologize."

Father Michel turned toward him, unable to hide the surprise in his eyes. "You have?"

"Yes. I invited you to our home and then I threw you out...I behaved like a lunatic. And my wife now has a kitchen full of broken dishes to prove the extent of my idiocy." He lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you...I accept your apology, my boy." He attempted a smile to lighten the tension, but Erik remained solemn.

"I've...never had a father...you know that," Erik continued, stepping away and seating himself in an armchair. "The man I knew for part of my childhood taught me a few things, but he never really loved me for who I was...despite who I was." He swallowed hard, and found that he could not turn to meet Father Michel's gaze. "I've never felt the love of a father...until now. I just..." He fought back tears, angry with himself for being so conflicted. "I just don't want to lose you now...now that I've just found you." As he stared at the rug in front of the fireplace, Father Michel sat down across from him.

Waiting and watching, the priest marveled as this man, once hardened by life and his own darkness, now sat humbly before him, a picture of a hurting child.

"I'm asking for your forgiveness for my selfishness," Erik continued, at last looking at the old priest directly. "And though I don't want you to go...I understand why you must."

"Erik," Father Michel responded at last, "do you think that this has in any way been a simple decision for me? You are like a son to me, your wife like a daughter. And now...you are to have a child! I feel as though I'm losing the only family that I have, as well." He felt his own eyes beginning to fill with tears. "But I made a promise long ago that where He led me, I would follow. And I must keep that promise, no matter how much it pains me. He walked the most painful path of all, and I must also take up my cross, for the sake of the gospel."

"I know," Erik responded, scowling. "I know that you have no choice, really. But it...it just...upsets me." He paused to collect his thoughts, quickly growing more agitated. "No. No! It infuriates me that God would bring you into my life, only to have you leave again after such a short time! I just don't understand this!" His voice reached a tense pitch, and Father Michel laid a hand on his arm to calm him.

"My boy, we will always have each other...regardless of what happens here on this earth. We will spend eternity together."

"That's all well and good, but I need your wisdom now!" Erik spat. "I won't need to have someone teach me how to be a loving father once I've entered eternity, and I won't need someone to teach me the ways of God once I've arrived there, now will I?"

This anger is only a mask for his pain. Father Michel chose his words carefully. "I realize that, Erik, but you must believe that the Lord knows best about all of these things...everything will work together for my good and yours, if we trust in Him."

"Well, you'll have to excuse me if I'm having trouble with that concept at this moment."

"Understandably."

"How do you just accept this so readily...this...this arbitrary change in your life?" Erik asked, frowning.

"Oh, my boy," Father Michel sighed. "Through much, much prayer. Change is never easy, but I will stagnate if I remain here in disobedience to God's call."

Erik fell silent then, pondering the statement. Stagnate? Is that what is happening to me? Is this why I am beginning to lose the passion for my current work? He hadn't shared his feelings before, not even with Christine. He was afraid...terrified...of the things that God might ask of him...

"Erik? Are you alright?"

"Hmm? Oh...yes. Well, I mean, I was just mulling over what you said. And I suppose...I do understand. You've lost the desire for your work here, in Paris."

"No, no, that isn't it at all. I love my work here. I always have. But there is another place to which I am being sent. That will never change my love for my parish here, nor for you and Christine, and...your baby." He could restrain his tears no longer. "Oh, my dear boy...it pains me so greatly to leave you. It is the last thing on this earth that I would wish to do, and believe me, I would stay if it were not God Himself who calls me..." A large tear escaped down his round, flushed cheek as he closed his eyes. After a brief moment, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Father, I'm so sorry...I was thinking only of myself and how your decision would affect me...I had no idea--"

"No idea that this would hurt me as much as it is hurting you?" The old priest interrupted, looking up at him with a curious expression. "Erik, in my heart, you are my son. And you are also my friend. I am going into an unfamiliar land with an unfamiliar people, doing something that I have never done before. I'm very much afraid!"

Erik failed to suppress a laugh. "You? Afraid? After surviving and befriending the dreaded Opera Ghost, I should think you could do anything." He raised an eyebrow, eliciting a chuckle from the priest.

"Yes..." he said, drawing out a handkerchief to wipe his nose. "I suppose you do have a point."

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A/N: Please review...I do accept reviews from non-members! And thank you to all my readers:) Have a blessed week!