A/N: I know, I know! You thought I'd abandoned this story? Well, I apologize. Real life has its way of digging its claws into you when it is least convenient. I had been working on a video for a friend as well as dealing with a few bouts of illness here at home among myself and my family. Plus, helping with Vacation Bible School and everything else one can volunteer for seemed to take up all of my time. I hope you will enjoy this update. I'm going to try to bring this story to a close by early Fall, 2006. I will be homeschooling my children again this year, so it will take a lot of my time again, once that starts up in late August. Thanks for your patience! I appreciate you all:)

Chapter Seventy-One

"We're sorry, but we felt it best to have a face to face discussion about this situation. We know that it is a long trip for you..." Monsieur Raleigh shifted uneasily as Erik stood in the doorway, dressed in his usual black and looking as commanding as ever. "We believed it would be more...productive to converse in person rather than by messenger."

"A practical assumption," Erik replied. He had determined to say as little as possible when the meeting was arranged. He was going to listen, for once, before charging ahead with any sudden reactions. "Let's get down to business, then." He seated himself in the only unoccupied chair in the room--Raleigh across from him at the desk and Beauvais on his right--and folded his arms in front of his chest.

"Yes..." the partners shifted their eyes from Erik to each other and back again. "We know you are aware of the situation with the Populaire..."

"Of course. You sent me word by messenger."

"We did. And...you are also aware that we have had a bit of a...dry spell recently...when it comes to securing new clients."

"I am aware of that." Erik found himself wondering why Monsieur Beauvais sat, stiff and silent, fingering his moustache as always, while Monsieur Raleigh did all the talking.

"And we have been taking quite a loss, financially. We unfortunately have found that we are going to have to cut back on some things considerably...salaries and such...in order to stay afloat. I know that this must come as a shock to you."

Erik raised an eyebrow. "Gentlemen, I knew that it was a distinct possibility...things being what they are, now that the Populaire is no longer on our list of projects."

"Yes...true." Raleigh responded. The men all sat awkwardly for a moment before Raleigh took a deep breath. "Forgive me for asking this, but there have been...rumors..."

"Rumors?" Erik felt a sick tension pulsating in his veins while his stomach became as a lead weight within him. Paralyzed by the moment, he couldn't have moved if the whole building had suddenly caught fire.

"...About why the managers at the Populaire suddenly lost their funding."

Erik made his best attempt at a nonplussed expression. "And I'm to assume from your tone that these rumors have something to do with me?"

Beauvais spoke up at last, stuttering. "We--we don't really believe that there is any truth to these rumors...do we, Raleigh?" His lip twitched as he released a strained laugh.

Raleigh eyed him with disdain, and turned his attention back to Erik. "People are saying that there may have been some sort of...bad blood...between you and the patron of the opera, the Viscomte de Chagny." He paused, watching Erik's face for a sign of acknowledgement. There was none. "We are your partners, and this business is our livelihood as well. Is there any truth to this?"

Erik studied Raleigh for a moment before answering. I should have seen this coming. I've been so distracted by my grief...I should have known... He stalled. "Obviously, you think that there may be some truth to it, if you are confronting me on the matter."

Beauvais leaned forward, shaking his head vigorously. "N-no, no, not at all...we just--"

"Enough, Charles," Raleigh boomed, weary of the man's transparent cowardice before their masked partner. Huffing, he continued. "Monsieur, there have been rumors surrounding you from the moment you came to this firm. We have overlooked many until now, but...if we have lost a significant account because of--"

Erik held up a hand, stopping Raleigh mid-sentence. "No. I understand." He leaned forward in his chair and focused his eyes on the mahogany desk before him in an effort to remain calm. So...the ghost truly has found me at last. "The Viscomte and I had a bit of a...conflict of interest...in the past. Over the woman who is now my wife. If he discovered that I am a partner in this firm, then...it is reasonable to assume that he may still hold some hostility toward me and has decided to withdraw his patronage altogether." He looked at his partners with gravity. "I assure you, I have tried to avoid the Viscomte for quite some time. Had I known that this would happen--"

"I'm sure you have, but...this personal matter has had a very unfortunate effect on our firm." Raleigh grimaced, rubbing his worry-lined forehead. "We are concerned that these rumors will cost us other business. The Viscomte has many friends in high society, and we cannot afford to have our good reputation sullied...whether or not the rumors are true."

Erik could feel his face burning. "I do not believe that he will cause us any more trouble," he replied through clenched teeth.

"But can you guarantee it?" Raleigh leaned forward, his eyes sorrowful and imploring. "Can you know this for certain?"

Erik knew where this was leading. He straightened in his chair, realizing at last what had to be done. "No, Monsieur, I cannot. I am not a soothsayer, nor a reader of men's minds, regardless of what other rumors you may have heard about me. And I am also not a fool. I know what you would ask of me now."

Raleigh pursed his lips, his expression full of regret, as he reached into his desk and retrieved several papers. "Monsieur Durand, we are prepared to offer you a generous sum, today, in return for your third of this firm. We cannot afford to wait. You know how quickly rumors spread in Paris..."

This sudden demand did startle Erik. He had hoped to at least have a day or two to mull over his departure from the firm, and was angry that his hand was being forced. "I see. Well, you've certainly thought this over." He glowered at the two men as he went on. "It appears that you would have reached this decision regardless of whether these so-called rumors were true. Strange how I overestimated your character, gentlemen. Your late employer clearly had more faith in me...and more faith in the truth." He stood and brusquely snatched the papers from Raleigh's hand, rifling through them to surmise the contents. After several seconds, he tossed them to the large desk with contempt. "This offer is not what I would consider a 'generous sum.' I have been the lead architect on most of our recent projects, and you are aware of this. I have brought in a sizeable amount--"

"This is our offer, Monsieur," Raleigh interrupted, as Beauvais' eyes went wide with dread at the interaction between the two. He squirmed in his seat when he noticed that Erik's hands at his sides were balled into fists, his knuckles turning white. He looked as though he were a large cat, ready to pounce upon its prey.

Erik's mind roared with an animalistic bloodlust that he fought desperately. He envisioned himself grappling Raleigh's neck and squeezing until his eyes bulged and his life left him. Reason fled away for a moment, and he took a step toward the man, his eyes full of an unearthly rage. Beauvais leapt up, stammering something about "civility" as Raleigh came close to tipping backward in his desk chair, clearly terrified.

Then, as quickly as it had come, the rage subsided, surprising no one more than Erik. If I kill this man, I will prove to my wife and everyone else that I have not changed. I cannot do this...I cannot put Christine at further risk by committing this heinous act...Oh, God, help me...I don't understand why this is all happening... He closed his eyes and pressed his hands on the edge of the desk, shaking his head slowly. "This is wrong," he growled. "What you are doing is wrong."

Raleigh's voice came out in a choked whisper. "I'm--I'm sorry. We...have no choice..."

"You do have a choice," Erik spat back at him, reaching for a pen and signing the papers that still lay in disarray on the desk. He slammed the pen back to the desk, some ink spitting from the tip on to Raleigh's hand. "I'll expect to receive my money tomorrow. No later. Or I will be hiring an attorney, gentlemen. After the way this has been handled...that should concern you."

Raleigh at last leaned forward in his chair again, his face still white as a sheet. "Agreed."

An air of silent fury reigned as Erik placed his fedora upon his head and stalked from the office. Descending the stairs, he wondered how on earth he was to tell Christine that he had no way to provide for them any longer. I could start my own firm, but...what if the Viscomte is out to destroy me? And unfortunately, he thought with a groan, he could do it. Oh, Lord...I need guidance. And I need it now. He sought refuge in a familiar place, more by habit than by forethought.

The alleyway was quiet, and he pulled on the side door, a bit chagrined when he found it to be firmly locked. "What am I doing?" he whispered to himself, blinking in surprise. He's not here for me anymore. Where can I go? Father Michel was gone, and Erik felt like a great fool, because he had simply...forgotten. In his haste and self-absorption at that moment, he had followed only his instincts to run back to him...to the first man who had ever fully accepted him as he was. The church was the one place where he felt completely at peace and safe in God's presence. Erik knew that he should be satisfied to simply voice his concerns with his Maker at any time or any place...but somehow, he knew that he had grown to this point--he had come to know more than one man who helped to restore his faith in mankind--and now he needed people. He needed them...listening ears of flesh and bone...but the one whom he needed most had followed a greater call.

Still, asinine as he felt, he was compelled to enter. He found himself at the front entrance to the church, and he pushed the door open, entering with caution. The door closed behind him slowly, his eyes gradually adjusting to the dimness inside. Everything looked and even smelled as it had before, and his stomach quivered at this realization. It felt like coming home...

Erik quickly sat down in one of the back pews and glanced toward Father Michel's former study. The door was closed. He couldn't remember when the door had ever been closed to him before. He was caught off guard by the feeling of sadness that engulfed him, and he averted his eyes, bowing his head to pray. I don't know what to feel right now...I am furious! And I'm helpless...and...why are You allowing this? Why? Have we not been through enough? And now I have to go home and tell the woman I love that I have lost everything? He shook his head and sighed in frustration, his mind a swirl of confusion. A voice pulled him from the cacophony of thought, then, back into the quiet of the sanctuary.

"Monsieur? Can I be of assistance?"

Erik didn't move. He didn't even breathe. Oh, no...

"Monsieur?" came the voice again, sounding closer this time. Erik's senses were heightened, and he could feel the adrenaline rushing through him. Calm yourself...perhaps he will leave you alone if you don't respond.

Erik nearly jumped, then, as he felt a hand on his left shoulder. "Is there anything that I can do?" The voice sounded younger than Father Michel's, he noted, and more hushed in tone.

He's not going away. He knew he had to answer, and he fought the instinct that screamed at him to act aggressively. He remained motionless, but answered with some rudeness, "I was praying, and you've disturbed me."

"Oh." The hand was quickly lifted from Erik's shoulder. "Forgive me, Monsieur. You just...looked as though you might need someone to talk to...other than the Lord, I mean," he ended with a light, nervous chuckle.

Erik rolled his eyes beneath the brim of his hat. "I'm fine. Thank you..." He glanced to the side enough to see the white of the man's collar... "Father."

"Very well. I am new to this parish, but if there is any help that you need, please let me know."

Erik heard the man's footsteps receding at first, and then suddenly he heard them stop and approach again slowly. He cringed, wondering what else the man could possibly want.

"If I may ask...what was it that led you to this particular church?"

Erik was tempted to reveal his masked countenance just to intimidate the man into leaving him alone, but he quickly dismissed the idea. Too risky. "I thought I made it clear that I did not wish to engage in conversation," he replied coldly, then adding, "but I believed that this was the place where I needed to be. I have no other explanation."

"I see." The priest replied, a hint of curiosity in his voice. "And you came here seeking the Lord's...guidance?"

Why is he asking so many questions? He would leave me alone quickly if he knew who I... Erik caught himself mid-thought. He was not that "ghost" any longer. He groaned inwardly. "Yes. Guidance. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

"Oh, of course. My apologies." The priest left quickly, but left his study door open, Erik noted with a hint of annoyance.

No privacy today, I suppose. Not that Father Michel ever gave me any... He smiled a little at the memory of the round-faced, balding man with whom he held such a deep kinship. Lord, he isn't here, and I need You to tell me what to do now. Tell me where to go... He was so lost in thought that he did not hear the approach of footsteps once again. The young priest came to sit beside him on the pew, but thought twice about touching him again.

Jolted from his state of prayer, Erik was at once aware of a presence beside him, and he heard the man's voice, low and in prayer, for him. Anger came upon him instinctively, but after a few moments, he felt as if a wall in his soul had been breached, and a wave of emotion was released in his soul. Silent tears began to wet his cheeks as the young priest ceased his praying to speak to Erik.

"Monsieur, I know that I do not know you personally, but the Lord knows you, and I believe that He brought you here today for a reason. He wants me to tell you something."

There was a long pause between the two men as Erik, in a bold move that surprised both men, lifted his head and looked into the priest's face at last, revealing himself...his eyes still moist with tears. He nearly wept again when the young man, his gray eyes full of compassion, did not flinch as he saw the stark, white mask.

The priest continued. "The Lord would say to you, 'I am calling you to a people whom you have hated, and you will love them in My name. You will no longer build houses of mortar for the wealthy, but you will build My house...My church...among those who have been rejected, even as you have been rejected. I have gone before you and have prepared the path before you...you need only to trust Me.' This is what the Lord would speak to you." The young man closed his eyes, then, and exhaled deeply, as though he were emotionally exhausted.

Erik stared at him, his jaw agape in shock. What just happened here? He tried, but found that he couldn't form words to ask the priest a single question. As he sat, frozen in place, the young priest opened his eyes again and smiled meekly at him.

"You must be wondering what this might mean."

Erik nodded dumbly.

"I...I'm not sure myself. Sometimes the Lord just speaks to me and gives me...wisdom...for those who are in deep need of His guidance. I don't know where or when He will choose to speak through me, but I knew as soon as I saw you today that He had a word to speak directly to you...for some reason. But...if you believe that this message is completely in error--

"No. No...it isn't in error," Erik's voice crackled with emotion. He stared at the priest as if he had read the very desires of his heart. "I've...I've been feeling for some time that God was calling me to a new work, but...I wasn't completely certain of what it might be. You have told me some things that I already knew. I just...hadn't been able to put them into words until now." He fought back more tears as he thanked the younger man quickly and stood, leaving the church by way of the front doors. Strangely, he remembered little of the ride home. His mind was so fixed on the words that the priest had spoken to him...words of confirmation that brought peace and comfort to his heart. As he prayed for the duration of the journey, he began to sense what he was to do...and how he was to deliver the news to Christine.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The hour was later than he expected by the time he returned home and the smells of the long-passed evening meal still lingered as Erik entered the house. He tossed his hat on to the side table in the foyer and made his way through the dimly lit hall to the front room where he found Monique, knitting in the armchair.

"Well, it's about time you came home. Christine has been quite worried." She arched an eyebrow in criticism. "You need to let her know you're home."

"I am aware that it's late. You needn't assault me as soon as I walk in the door." He turned his back on her and started toward the bedroom as she spoke again.

"Something happened, didn't it? You had expected to return home well before supper."

Wearily, he turned around to face her. "I need to speak to my wife." He realized his harsh tone and added, "But thank you...for tending to things while I was away."

She nodded curtly in response and continued with her knitting as he resumed his procession to the bedroom...where Christine undoubtedly lay wondering of his whereabouts.

He opened the door quietly, seeing that the small lamp on the bedside table was lit and Christine was reading a book. She breathed a sigh of relief when she glimpsed his familiar face in the light. "You're home."

"Yes. I'm so sorry that you were worrying about me."

She cocked her head to the side. "And how did you know that?"

"A meddling little bird told me," he grinned devilishly, stepping to the bed and seating himself beside her with ease.

"Erik...you really shouldn't say such things about Madame. She has been very good to stay and care for me."

"She has." He nodded. "But helpful as she is...she is still a meddler at times."

Christine giggled. "She is."

Oh, how I've missed that sound... Erik reached up to finger an unruly curl upon her shoulder. "So...I have some...news."

Christine wrinkled her nose. "Bad news, or good news?"

He hesitated. "I suppose...both."

"Oh." She frowned. "Well...which are you going to give me first?"

"Well..." He took both of her hands in his, brought them to his lips, and kissed them. As he released them once more, she studied him patiently. At this, an odd sensation of satisfaction came over him, and he knew. He knew that this was God's will...beyond the shadow of a doubt. My whole life has been leading to this. He began to recount the day's events to her as she listened intently, trying her best to refrain from interrupting. When he finished, a look of pride shone in her eyes like never before.

"I agree with you. This is the Lord's will. We should make preparations at once."

He leaned in to kiss her. "You amaze me." They reveled in the close contact for several moments, in awe of this newfound direction. He pulled away at last, smiling at her. "I know what you...what we have just been through...has been the most difficult thing we've ever encountered. Are you certain that now is the time?"

"Obviously, He thinks it is time. And we need to listen. There is so much to do now...I need to make a list! And you--"

"I need to write and tell Father Michel...that we are coming."

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A/N: I hope that you enjoyed this chapter. If you could take a moment to leave a review, it would be much appreciated. Thanks to all my readers:)