Chapter Seventy

Erik opened his eyes as the sun was setting. We fell asleep. Monique! Oh, no... He glanced at Christine, who was resting soundly on his right arm. Moving slowly, he was able to remove himself from the bed and exit the room. He found his friend seated in an armchair near his piano, reading a book from the shelf. She looked up and smiled as he entered.

"Hello...I hope it was alright that I waited here. I'm assuming that everything went well?"

"Yes. And of course...my home is your home. I have no secrets any longer," he said with a slight smile.

"Hmm," she replied, snapping the book shut and rising to replace it on the bookshelf. "I thought I would stay and prepare supper for you both, if you don't mind." She smiled and smoothed out her skirts. "Oh! I nearly forgot! There was a delivery for you by messenger. It's on the kitchen table."

"It's not necessary for you to stay, Monique...I am capable of preparing our meal."

She put her hands on her hips and squared her shoulders. "I am aware of that, Erik, but I think that you can use a rest, along with your wife." She glared at him. "Do we understand each other?"

He chuckled. "We do." Starting then for the door, he stopped suddenly. "Well, what are you standing here for? I'm hungry!" He smiled with satisfaction as she gasped in surprise, and went to the kitchen to retrieve his message.

By the time Monique arrived after looking in on Christine, Erik was seated at the table, his brow lined with worry. "What is it?" she asked him, hurrying to his side.

He exhaled deeply. "I knew it. I knew this would happen. They are beside themselves..."

"Who?"

"My partners at the firm." He shook his head. "It's the Populaire. Giroux and Associates was to be in charge of the reconstruction, but it seems that the managers' financial backing has...run out." The hint in his eyes told the rest of the story, and her mouth dropped open.

"No! The Viscomte? Surely not! He would not abandon the Opera!"

"It seems that he has."

"But why?"

"I have a feeling that the Viscomte is more clever than I gave him credit for. He must know...he must have made the connection between me and the firm, and...well, you can probably guess the rest."

"Oh, Erik," she said mournfully. "I'm so sorry. What will you do now? Do you have other projects? And what will the managers of the Populaire do? Will they now have to sell the Opera?"

"I wish I had some answers, Monique...but I do not." His mouth was set in a grim line.

"Well," she said, rising from the table, "let me get supper on. It's the least I can do for you right now."

"I'm afraid I've lost my appetite," he said as he stood. "But you and Christine have a nice meal. I'm going out for a while."

"But...what am I to tell Christine?"

"Tell her that I'll be home in a few hours, and not to worry. I'm going to see a friend."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I suppose I understand why you did it...but I am concerned for everyone involved." Gregoire Laurent rubbed his forehead as it beaded with nervous sweat. "This puts the managers in quite a situation, as well as...the architects, does it not?"

"I'm sure that the managers will recover," Raoul said with a little too much self-assuredness as he watched his acquaintance curiously. "If they cannot find another patron, then they can surely sell the Opera...wouldn't you agree?" He raised an eyebrow as the older man shot him a worried glance. "And as for the architects...I'm sure there will be other business."

"Well...yes, I suppose so. I'm just...surprised, that's all. But I see your reasoning. Clearly, you don't want to associate yourself any more with the memories of that place, and of Christine, if it makes your fianceé uncomfortable."

"Yes. And I just thought you should be aware of it before it becomes public knowledge. I have always appreciated your candor and wisdom...however, this time I felt that it was in my best interest to listen to Angelique, as well as to my brother. He has been pressuring me to withdraw from the project for quite some time."

"Ah. I see."

There was an awkward pause, before Raoul grimaced. "But you see...that isn't the only reason why I did it."

"It isn't?" His throat suddenly felt tight.

"No." He looked away from Gregoire's eyes momentarily, considering his own thoughts. "I also discovered that...that the man who is now Christine's husband is one of the architects at Giroux and Associates."

So it's come to this... "And you were uncomfortable with that?"

"Of course I was! You don't know him, Monsieur! The man is...he is..."

"Well?" Gregoire was becoming angry and was having difficulty hiding it. He folded his arms across his chest. "What is he?"

"I am not what you think I am."

The two men whirled around at the sound of the uninvited voice in the room. At first they saw no one, but then, emerging from behind the parlor door, came the very man whom they were discussing...friend to one, enemy to the other. Erik stepped inside, followed by Guillaume, the butler.

"Monsieur Durand to see you." Guillaume bowed and retreated speedily from the scene.

Raoul was terrified, yet filled with hatred at the presence of the man who, to his mind, was nothing but pure evil. Though he had to admit to himself...there was something that seemed less threatening about him. His jaw dropped open in shock as he looked from his nemesis to his longtime acquaintance and saw it clearly...they know each other.

Gregoire glanced sorrowfully at Raoul, and then looked to Erik, saying nothing.

"I'm sorry to arrive unannounced like this," Erik began, his eyes fastened steadily on his friend. "I had no idea that you had...company." His gaze traveled to the young Viscomte. How could I not recognize that boy's carriage outside? I can always see so clearly in the darkness... His icy stare nearly set Raoul's legs to trembling. "If I had known, I certainly would not have come."

Raoul opened and closed his mouth silently, thinking that he would respond with some pointed remark, but no words formed. He turned slightly, staring at Gregoire Laurent as if he expected an explanation or action on his part.

At last, Gregoire approached his friend, hand outstretched. The truth, at last... "Erik." He greeted him as warmly as he could, considering the unusual circumstances. "You know that you are always welcome in our home. Was there...something you wished to speak to me about?"

Erik hesitated, noticing the confusion on the Viscomte's face at Gregoire's words.

"Always welcome in our home"? What is this? What in God's name is going on? Raoul tried to move, but found that he was rooted to the spot, witnessing the display of friendship before him...and his stomach churned while his mind raced. How do they know each other? Through business? No...Christine was here...and the Laurents know her, and perhaps they...no, it must be through business...that's the only thing that makes sense. There couldn't be any other way...unless they...no...no. Bile rose in his throat as it all began to make sense...the day he saw Christine in town...her insistence at wanting to speak with him as he was approaching the Laurent carriage...her nervous glances at the window...her relief as he walked away...Oh, my God. His throat was burning then, and his eyes stung with the threat of tears. "It was you." He nearly choked as he approached Erik slowly, trying to control his own rage.

The softness in Erik's eyes that had been directed toward Gregoire was quickly replaced by a guarded haughtiness. He couldn't help himself. "What's wrong, Viscomte? You act as though you've seen a ghost!"

Raoul let out a snarl of anger and advanced upon Erik. Quickly, Monsieur Laurent stepped between them, blocking Raoul's path. "There will be none of this in my house!" His firm tone startled both men. "You will behave as gentlemen! This has gone on long enough! Sit down, both of you." He pointed brusquely toward the armchairs near the fireplace, and Erik promptly seated himself out of respect for his friend, turning away to stare at the cold hearth.

Raoul looked blankly at Monsieur Laurent as though he had not understood him. The older man gestured again, but Raoul tightened his jaw and turned away. "I'll not sit in the same room with this maniac!" He made a move toward the door as Erik spoke.

"Resorting to name calling is hardly a noble trait, Viscomte," he smirked. "And recanting a commitment reveals nothing more than sheer selfishness."

Raoul stopped. So the news has reached him, then. "It is not for selfishness that I withdrew my funding for the Opera...not that I have to justify myself to the likes of you, Monsieur le Fantôme!" Raoul spat, his face reddening by the second. "The woman I love has asked it of me, and out of love, I have done as she requested! But then, what would you possibly know of love?"

Erik shot out of the chair, his fists clenched and eyes blazing. "I should kill you where you stand, you pathetic excuse for a man! I know more of love than you could ever dream, and I have learned it from the woman who is my wife!" He then dropped his voice low, and added smugly, "I believe you know her."

Raoul suddenly charged at him without warning, sendingErik's mask toppling to the floor before Gregoire could pin his arms behind him and drag him away. "You see?" Raoul shrieked wildly. "Look at him! He is a monster! You have befriended a monster, Gregoire! He is even more twisted on the inside than he is on the outside!" He struggled against Monsieur Laurent as Erik calmly gathered his mask from the floor, placing it back upon his face.

He raised a hand in reassurance, praying silently for restraint. "It's alright, Gregoire. It's alright. Let him go."

"Not until you agree to be civil to one another in my home! I will throw you both out if need be."

"That won't be necessary!" Raoul retorted, seething and still struggling against his captor. "I am leaving, and I will not return here! After all the years of friendship that my family has extended to you, I cannot believe that you have betrayed me in this manner! You have clearly lied to me, Monsieur, for months! This is inexcusable, and possibly even unforgivable!"

Gregoire released him and spun him around, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Now, listen here, young man! Befriending this man here has been more of a blessing to my family than you will ever know! You have nothing to do with our friendship, and the only reason why I withheld information from you was to keep the peace, for all of your sakes, and especially for Christine! That poor young woman deserves far more than to have the two of you plotting against each other for the rest of your lives!" He poked a finger into Raoul's chest. "You are getting married soon, and he is already married! You both have women that you love. Thank the Lord and be happy! Life is too precious to waste on hatred!"

At this, Erik's felt some remorse. He fought back tears as he thought of the precious life that had just been lost to them. "Indeed...it is." He moved toward Raoul, surprising even himself as he extended his hand in a peace offering. "Viscomte."

Raoul quickly stepped away from him, shaking his head as Gregoire released him. "You may be right, Gregoire, but the day I grasp the hand of this man in forgiveness is the day that the earth stops turning." With that, he stalked from the room and left the house without another word to anyone.

Erik and Monsieur Laurent stood there in silence, taken aback by what had just occurred. After a moment, Erik moved to the armchair again and sat down. Gregoire came behind him then, laying a hand on his shoulder. "That...was most unfortunate. For all of us."

Erik's voice was monotone. "Yes."

"I'm so sorry...I had no idea that he was coming, nor that you were coming, for that matter. I still can't believe what just happened."

"It happened. That much is certain."

"I'm assuming that you were coming to give me news about the Populaire...it seems that you've wasted a trip."

"I did. But...there is something else." He turned to his right, looking up at his friend. "I...I don't know why it has happened, but...Christine...she has lost the baby." His voice trembled as he spoke...baby.

Gregoire closed his eyes at the news. "Oh, no...Erik, I'm so sorry." He sat down in the other armchair. "When did this happen? Is she...recovering?"

"A few days ago. She seems to be doing better today than she was before. But it has been quite difficult for both of us."

"I'm sure it has. Is there anything that we can do? Anything at all?"

"No...our needs are met. Please...just pray, if you would. I...need direction at this time, and Christine needs strength to get through this...all of this pain. It's just so hard for her..."

"Of course we will pray. All of us." He hesitated a moment. "By the way...I haven't seen you in church of late. You have been missed."

Erik sighed. "I just don't feel right going back there...not now that Father Michel is gone. I've only heard from him once, and things didn't seem to be going very smoothly for him. Now I'll need to write to him with...less than encouraging news, I'm afraid."

"I understand. But our new parish priest has been asking to meet you...he's heard of your legendary music, and tends to look longingly at the organ loft each service." He smiled a little. "It's as if he's hoping you will just 'appear' and begin to play."

"Sounds rather like some sort of ghost." Erik shook his head. "I know that I should attend, but...with all we've been through lately, I just don't know. But you needn't worry about us...we will be fine."

"Now, Erik," Gregoire scolded him, "you do not have to walk through your life alone. You make sure that you keep in contact with us. After Christine is feeling better, we will have you for dinner."

Erik nodded. "Let's hope that it's sooner rather than later."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Erik arrived home to find Monique still awake, reading a book in the front room. "Well, it's about time," she whispered. "It's nearly midnight!"

"There were some...unfortunate complications. Couldn't be helped."

"Oh? Such as?"

"I'm too tired, Monique...I'll discuss it with you another time." He frowned. "It's too late for you to go home now...you're staying in the guest room. No arguments."

She smiled knowingly. "I've already unpacked my things."

"Good." He nodded, and then paused to give her a questioning look. "Things? You packed things?"

"Of course! I didn't know how long you would need me, so I packed a bag with some necessary items. You didn't think I would just come for a day and then leave, did you?"

"Well, I...well, yes. I suppose that is what I expected. And you carried nothing with you today when you arrived."

"I left my bag outside on the step. You never even noticed it," she winked. "Seems you're losing your keen sense of sight, mon ami."

"And you are still as obstinate as always."

She laughed. "Obstinate? Mon cher, you have to look no further than your mirror to find an obstinate person."

"True. And now I can also find one in my guest room. Good night." He heard her cluck her tongue in frustration as he left the room, and smiled to himself. Home, at last.

He crept into the dark bedroom and felt his way around, removing his clothing and mask, and slipping into his side of the bed. He and Christine hadn't shared the bed since her miscarriage, and it seemed strange to do so. She stirred as she felt his weight upon it.

"Erik?"

"Yes, mon ange, it's me. I'm sorry to wake you."

She rolled over and laid a hand on his chest. "It's alright. I'm just glad you're home." She asked no questions of him, of where he had been or with whom. "Good night."

He kissed her hand. "Good night, mon amour."

XXXXXXXXXXXX

"No...no! Let me out of here! Let me out!"

Cruel faces...taunting faces surrounded him as he clung to the bars of his cage, squeezing his eyes closed. He screamed as the whip slashed across his back. "Stop! Stop it, please! Don't hurt me anymore! Let me go, please! I just want to go back to my mother!"

"Your mother doesn't want you...she never wanted you...she can't take care of a freak like you! You're cursed! An abomination! A piece of garbage! You're not even a person! You worthless Gypsy trash!"

"We don't owe you anything! You deserve to be beaten! You are nothing more than a mistake! A curse on this land! You should leave! Leave, and never come back! Get away from here! Go back to where you came from, Gypsy scum!"

Another crack of the whip, then silence...the faces blurring as his eyes brimmed with tears, and their mouths moving noiselessly. A voice suddenly pierced the silence like a trumpet. "Whom shall I send? Who will go for us?"

Erik woke, gasping and in a cold sweat. Christine was breathing steadily next to him in the darkness, unaware of the disturbance. He quickly got up and made his way to their lavatory, splashing cool water on his face. He shook his head, discouraged. They've come back...the nightmares have come back. Lord, make them stop...I don't need this now...

He returned to bed, but after over an hour of restlessness, he gave up and left the bedroom, finding himself at the piano. I can't play at this hour. He got up and meandered to the bookshelf, as a thought came to him. I need to write to Father Michel and let him know what has happened... Quickly finding some paper, he penned a brief letter and signed it before plodding off to bed again, this time fully exhausted as he fell into a deep sleep beside his wife.

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A/N: I want to thank each one of you for your encouraging reviews. I appreciate them so much. I continue to notice many of my own errors as I write, and I am eager to finish this story so that I can go back and correct some things. LOL! With seventy chapters now written, that will be no easy task. Again, thank you for reading. And to you, the many anonymous readers (and there are a LOT of you), won't you please drop me a line? Even a short note would be wonderful. I'd love to know what your impressions are. Thank you! I will do my best to update again soon!