Chapter Sixty-Six

Three weeks had passed quickly, and Erik had spent most of his time isolated in his study. Only on occasion would Christine hear him pounding out his frustrations elsewhere...on the piano, which she hoped would survive the onslaught.

She had been feeling more energetic for several days, even waking hungry for breakfast...shunning the stale crackers at her bedside. Sooner than even Doctor Farzin anticipated, it seems. She smiled to herself and hummed a tune as she set about to do some of the washing. Won't Erik be surprised! If he ever emerges from his study long enough to notice...

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Blank. A blank page...again! Growling in frustration, Erik crumpled the paper, ripping it from his drafting table. This has to stop! They're not paying me for a lack of ideas on this project! He and his partners had agreed that he should be the one to design the largest of the most recent tasks, and there he was, pacing the room, with no vision for the structure whatsoever. He knew what the client wanted, but couldn't bring himself to create a structure so devoid of emotion. Even a structure of minor beauty would at least satiate his desire to make something worthwhile, but no...it was just a simple project...large structure, large undertaking...but a simple and bland one nonetheless. He just couldn't see the point.

Several times, he had fought against the melodies in his head, which called to him to be written and played...and several times, he lost the battle. He hated that he was avoiding his wife and their unborn child, but he didn't feel worthy of them in his solitary state of mind. He was angry at God, angry at himself, angry at the situation that seemed to be going nowhere. I used to abhor change, and now...now I crave it! If something doesn't change soon, Lord, I don't think I can stand it! His mind screamed for release, for purpose, and clear direction. Help me...I feel like a blind man, groping along a wall...a man without eyes to see the path I am to take. "So, what now?"

Sighing, he returned to his drafting table and placed a fresh paper there. He closed his eyes and prayed...give me something to go on. Something...anything. His hand moved across the page fluidly for some time, his slide rule left untouched, and eyes still tightly closed. A picture came to his mind...rooms filled with color, simple angles with windows to let in the sunlight...warmth and welcome...hope. Hope? His eyes popped open and he stared down at the page before him. What in God's name is this?

"Erik?" Christine's gentle voice came from the other side of the study door, causinghim to jump in surprise. He hadn't even heard her approach, he had been so absorbed in his sketching.

"Yes...come in, mon ange."

The knob turned and Christine opened the door, noting Erik's grim demeanor before smiling deliberately at him. "I thought you might be ready for lunch."

"I'm really not very hungry."

"Oh." Her smile quickly faded.

"But thank you."

As she bowed her head and turned to pull the door closed behind her, he spoke again. "Christine...will you come and sit with me a while?"

She looked up, her eyes alight and her smile back in place. "Oh...I'd like that! Of course." She eagerly seated herself in an armchair and he came to sit in the one nearest to her.

"I've been thinking..."

"I know."

He glanced at her curiously, seeing a slight amusement in her features. No doubt, she knows me too well. "I've been very unhappy with the way things are...in my work. I can't seem to--I suppose I just don't--oh, I don't even know what to say about it!" He exhaled sharply in frustration. "Now...with Father Michel leaving, I feel lost at times. He knows what God would have him to do, but here I sit, completely uncertain of my future!"

"And you've been praying about this?"

He eyed her sharply. "Of course I have been."

"Good. I'm glad to know that you haven't neglected your prayer time as you've neglected...a few other things lately."

His mouth gaped in surprise at the audacity of her statement. She must truly feel hurt. "Christine..."

"Maybe you should speak to Father Michel about it. Perhaps he can offer you some advice."

'Since you aren't asking for mine', is what she really means to say... "Yes...perhaps." Though I already know what Father Michel would have to say on the matter. He smiled a little, studying her features. "If the offer is still open," he said at last, reaching forward to caress her hand, "I think I would like to have lunch now."

She relaxed, returning the smile. "I'd like that, too."

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Erik spent the next several days making peace with the situation beyond his control. Father Michel's departure was imminent, and Erik knew that he could either make things more pleasant for his friend or he could cause bitterness to grow. He chose the former, and had gone to the church to help him pack his belongings...mainly books and a few personal items. Never in his life had he pictured himself wrapping and packing teacups and saucers...

"You have to write when you arrive."

"Of course I will."

"I will be expecting to hear from you very soon after you settle in."

Father Michel turned and gave him a queer look. "Yes, Erik. I understand...there's no need to worry, my boy."

"I'm not worried." And I used to be such a convincing liar.

"Could've fooled me." Father Michel tried not to laugh as Erik glared at his retort. "Oh, Erik. We are family now. It's only natural for you to be concerned for my well-being, as I am for yours. Wouldn't you agree?"

Erik huffed. "Well, yes, "concern" would be a better term. It is a long journey...many days and stops along the way...and a portion by boat along the Danube, as you've said." He gestured dramatically with his hand. "Naturally, I am concerned for your safe arrival. "

The old priest laughed. "Well, now, that wasn't so difficult, was it?"

"What time does your train leave tomorrow?" Erik asked, pointedly ignoring his question.

"Noon. I've informed the Laurents of my departure, as well. They have offered to drive me to the train station."

Erik frowned. "I thought that I was to take you there."

"Oh." Father Michel went back to packing. "Well, I must have forgotten about that. They offered, and--"

"You cannot be replaced."

"What?" The priest stopped abruptly, turning to see Erik's mournful expression.

"No matter what you are trying to accomplish by reuniting me with the Laurents, they can never take your place." He stiffened his jaw. "You will be missed, Father."

Father Michel released a long sigh, settling the last book into a crate. "Erik, no one can replace anyone in this world. I am just trying to look after you and make certain that you never go back to...well, that you never go back. You need to be around people who care for you. And your wife needs it too...and so will your little one."

The silence hung thickly in the room then, and Erik turned away, finishing the job of wrapping each fragile teacup.

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"I don't want to do this. I don't want to say goodbye. I can't."

"Yes, you can, and you will. We will do this together, and we will pray for him every day."

"What if something happens to him? What if I never see him again?"

Christine sighed, turning to face Erik as she descended from the carriage, her hand in his. "You can't do this now, Erik. You have to be strong, for Father Michel. Come...they may be waiting inside."

They entered the train station and Erik glanced around the bustling room, looking for familiar faces, attempting to keep his mask hidden beneath the cowl of his cloak.

"There they are!" came a young woman's voice in their direction. Erik turned to see Amêlie Laurent maneuvering her wheelchair toward him, her dark hair flowing freely about her shoulders. "Monsieur Erik! Madame Christine! It's wonderful to see you again!" Her smile seemed to light up the room, and Erik couldn't help but return it with a smile of his own.

She is maturing quickly. "Hello, young songbird," he said with affection, reaching for her hand. "Have you been practicing and singing?"

"Of course. I wouldn't want to disappoint my teacher...although his absence has been long and rather unbearable," she winked. "Have you abandoned me?"

Erik sighed. "No, I've just been busy with work and with our new home. I'm sorry...I have neglected my favorite student, haven't I?" He grinned, cupping her small chin in his hand. "And I have missed you, Amêlie."

She blushed, turning her head quickly to smile at Christine. "You look beautiful, Madame Christine! I hear that you are to have a little one! I'm so excited for you both!"

Christine stepped forward, leaning in to grasp Amêlie's hand. "Thank you, Mademoiselle Amêlie. I hope that if it is a girl, she will be as sweet and lovely as you."

"Oh!" Amêlie gasped in surprise and giggled. "Thank you so much...that is quite a compliment! I hope that your child has your lovely voice and your husband's extraordinary artistic abilities."

"Then we shall have quite a handful to deal with, won't we?" quipped Christine.

"Well, congratulations are in order, I hear!" Monsieur Gregoire's voice boomed as he and his wife approached behind their daughter. "Expecting one of your own! I see you wasted little time," he teased, firmly shaking Erik's hand.

"Yes, I never was one to procrastinate," Erik laughed. "How have you been, Gregoire? And Madame Suzette, you're looking well. I've missed visiting with you both."

They chatted briefly, exchanging pleasantries and insisting upon future meals at each other's homes, until they heard a train whistle in the distance. Erik's smile faded rapidly, and he turned to see Father Michel standing and observing his friends. "Oh...it's almost time," Erik spoke softly.

Monsieur Gregoire eyed him sympathetically. "Yes. Yes, it is. I suppose we should say our farewells now."

"And prayers for safe travels," Madame Suzette added.

They all gathered around Father Michel, quietly praying for his safety and for blessing in his new ministry. The old priest lost his composure as he heard Erik's voice amongst the others, trembling with emotion. Many tears were shed and Father Michel embraced each one, the last being Erik.

"My son." He opened his arms and Erik came into them like a child, sobbing into his shoulder. He gripped the sides of Father Michel's traveling cloak in his fists, fighting the trembling of his body as best he could, not wishing to humiliate himself nor cause Father Michel further pain. The Laurents turned away out of respect for the moment, looking elsewhere and making small talk with Christine.

They embraced until the last call to board, and Father Michel pulled away. "Until we meet again, my son...I love you." He placed his palm on Erik's damp, unmasked cheek and tenderly looked into his eyes one last time. "Remember that you have a father who loves you."

He stepped onto the train and found his seat. The friends he was leaving behind stood outside the window...all of them waving and smiling bravely...except for Erik. Instead, he stared at the ground until Father Michel's window was nearly out of sight, lifting his eyes to meet his friend's for one brief second just before the train rolled out of the station. Numb. Oh, God, just let me go numb...

Erik is in Your able hands, Lord. Take care of him, and let his heart remain steadfast. Father Michel gladly accepted a newspaper from another passenger on the train, but found that he was reading the same words over and over again, absorbing none of the information. After an hour of the charade, he sighed and folded the paper again, placing it on the seat beside him. Just let me sleep, so I don't have to think...

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A/N: Thanks so much for your reviews! They always brighten my day.