Very important chapter - this one. We learn a fraction of Erik's past and find out why he is a man of faith.

Enjoy.

MAN OF SORROWS

CHAPTER 19

Her apartment was everything he had remembered it to be; except now, it was covered with the blanket of the night.

She flipped on the light over the kitchen table and instructed him to place the basket and its remaining contents on the table.

"Would you like something to drink?"

Erik considered her question and wondered if she had anything strong enough to knock some sense into him, but he doubted it.

"No thank you, I'm fine."

He wasn't fine; he was a nervous as a school boy at his first dance. What was wrong with him? She had shown no sign of being repulsed by the mask – no sign of being turned off by his rather reclusive behavior - nothing. So why did a heavy bag of dread seem to have ensconced itself within his stomach?

"Are you hungry, do you want me to start dinner?"

He didn't hear the question at first, and simply stared into the ceiling, looking pensive and reflective.

He felt her eyes on him and glanced at her. He realized he had not responded and gracefully answered as though he had only paused for effect.

"I'm not particularly hungry; I don't have a large appetite…" He admitted, but a roguish grin appeared on his lips, "…unless it's something sweet."

"I have some vanilla ice cream…" Christine offered, "…and chocolate syrup."

"You must have read my mind."

His voice was so smooth and velvet soft. She could feel it caressing her body with each word he spoke.

She decided to forego the tenderloin; she wasn't particularly hungry – at least, not for tenderloin. Retrieving two bowls from the cabinet, she dished out the ice cream and swirled a healthy helping of chocolate syrup on each bowl.

He sat on the couch with elegantly crossed legs and looked like a model for the perfect male specimen. She handed him a bowl and sat down beside him.

"You want to watch a movie now, or wait a little while?"

Erik glanced at the clock hanging on the wall above her computer desk; it read 7:30.

"I suppose since you have shared a bit of your life with me, I should share a bit of mine."

She could hear the tremor in his voice and see the look of uncertainty in his eyes.

"Erik, you don't have to tell me anything…I mean, I admit that I am interested, but I don't want you to feel like you have to tell me."

At first, she didn't think he had heard her, but then his eyes caught hers and she saw within their teal depths the need to bond with someone, and he had chosen her.

"My parents are both selfish people by nature. When they married, the problem only escalated. They had wanted only one child – a girl. Instead, they were blessed with twins; a girl – the pride and joy of their lives; and a boy, the scourge of their lives."

The pain in his voice was so palpable that Christine could feel the confusion and self-doubts he must have had all during his childhood. She was determined not to interrupt him for fear that he would not continue.

"Evie flourished beneath their attention and approval. She was everything they had hoped for in a daughter – someone they could mold and shape into the perfect little beauty queen."

Christine frowned, but deep within her, she knew what he was going to say.

"My mother is – or rather was – a beauty queen; Miss United Kingdom of 1967, actually." He scoffed at the title and then continued. "She wanted a daughter so that she could live vicariously through her…allowing her beauty queen days to go on. Evie was never allowed the joy of being a child – she was always preparing for some pageant or another…seeking some way out.

"I saw the sadness enter her eyes at a very early age, and it never went away…" he was pushing back tears and Christine knew he was determined not to shed them in front of her. "…when I was seven, they grew weary of my presence and shipped me off to live with my paternal uncle in France.

"He was a hateful old man with bitterness that had resided in his heart for years. He despised the sight of me, and I am ashamed to say that the feeling was mutual. He died abruptly of a heart attack about a year after I arrived.

"Instead of bringing me back home, my parents instructed the authorities to move me to St. Catherine's boarding school just outside of Versailles, France." His wondrous lips took on a thin, angered line, "By this time, I was an embittered young boy with no sense of self or purpose.

"The sisters were lost as to how to educate me…I was beyond their capabilities by that time…I had always been a very resourceful and intelligent child, I soaked up my studies like other children soaked up candy and toys…

"…by the time I was twelve, I had discipline problems and had experienced my share of overt beatings; they had been meant to make me more submissive and cooperative…but they only served to make me more bitter and withdrawn."

He had finished his ice cream before beginning; so to gain his bearings, he arose to take his bowl and Christine's to the sink. He continued to stand, but moved to the window overlooking the street below.

"Having done all they could do, they petitioned to have me schooled by the monks at St. Peter's Monastery in Rouen. They were far more patient with me and focused on my love of music and art. I developed my skills as an artist and began writing my first compositions while under their care."

His face softened and his voice took on a worshipful resonance.

"I found God in this wondrous, peaceful environment and set my mind on the priesthood."

Christine could not have been more shocked if he had told her he was an alien from outer space. She knew he had a great deal of faith and his love of God showed itself in every picture he painted; but the priesthood – what had changed his mind?

"I pursued it relentlessly and when I was seventeen, Monsignor Neville paid a visit to the monastery. He immediately took an interest in my music and art. When he heard that I wished to pursue the priesthood, he elected to have me moved to Vatican City and schooled under his watchful eye."

Christine heard a change in his voice, but it was so subtle that she was certain she had imagined it.

"He was a strict but competent mentor in both my music and my art. He said I had a spiritual duty to the church to use my gifts to further its cause. For the next ten years, he molded and conditioned me for the priesthood.

"There were several times during these years that my art shocked him and he claimed it bordered on sacrilege; my music often had the same affect. I painted and sang of love and passion, two things a priest is not to experience – at least not in the fleshly manner.

"However, I read the Bible and I read of love and passion on many levels…the love of God for man through Christ, the love of man for his God, the love of man for others, and the love of man for his wife. I felt within me that I was not serving the purpose that I was supposed to be serving.

"Monsignor Neville kept insisting that I was to serve the church, but my heart told me I was to be serving God…and there were many times it seemed the interests of the church did not coincide with the character and word of God."

He turned from the street and finally rested his eyes on Christine. She could see the confused and disillusioned man that he had once been, burning in the recesses of his eyes.

"It had been almost twenty years since I had seen Evie. We had communicated through letters, but that had been all.

"She had managed to evict herself from mother and father's demanding ways and had earned a degree in fashion design. She wrote and told me of her recent marriage and of her intent to visit me in Vatican City.

"I was ecstatic; I had missed her so much over the years and had lamented over being so far from her strong and caring presence.

"The day of her arrival came, and I had arranged to pick her up at the airport. I knew her the moment I saw her. We spent long moments in each other's embrace, and then I realized we weren't alone…two other people had accompanied her."

A shadow crossed his features, leaving within its wake a sadness Christine had never seen before.

"She introduced me to her husband, a giant of a man with golden blond hair and fair skin. He had a degree in law, oddly enough. He looked nothing like your typical lawyer, but Evie insisted that he was one of the best.

"Julius, as I learned his name was, then introduced me to his sister. A waiflike woman stepped forward from behind his towering figure. She had his coloring and was tall and slender; I had never seen anything as beautiful as she was.

"Loraine…" He lifted moist eyes and smiled sadly, "…that was her name."

TBC