I just wanted to thank all of you who are reading my other stories for checking out this one. And to all of you who are just getting to know my Eriks: welcome! I really appreciate your feedback.
Paladin14
"This house is freezing!" Sophia said as she entered the kitchen.
"Warm in here," Citrine answered with a smile as she grabbed a towel and opened the oven. "Do you think Monsieur Belmont is fond of chocolate?"
"I'm not certain. He doesn't seem fond of heat! The upstairs must be as cold as it is outside," Sophia complained as she plucked her shawl from the hook on the wall. She shivered again and rubbed her hands together. "Did Gabe chop wood this afternoon?"
Citrine groaned. "I don't think he did anything this afternoon. He's the laziest man I've ever known."
Sophia rolled her eyes when Citrine wasn't looking. It was obvious that Citrine was in love with Gabe or she wouldn't have gone out of her way to nag and complain.
"Well, I will see if he would bring firewood into the house."
Citrine glanced over her shoulder at Sophia. "He's gone, Sophia."
"Gone?"
"Yes, didn't you see Monsieur Monteclaire this afternoon? They were traveling to the vineyard with your brother."
Sophia made a face. The vineyards had belonged to her mother and father, but after her mother died of small pox and her father died of drink and a bad heart, the vineyard had been relinquished to her two uncles, who were attempting to sell the property.
It broke her heart to see the place neglected into ruin over the winter. She knew Philippe would attempt to convince their uncles to leave managing and productivity to him, as he had helped their father in the fields and in the office for years.
"Well, I suppose I will fetch wood."
"Perhaps Monsieur Belmont would retrieve it?" Citrine suggested.
Sophia made another face. "He's…writing."
"Are you certain he's still there? It's been some time since I heard him pacing about."
"Where else would he be?" Sophia said with a sigh. She reached for her cloak and missed, but drew her hand back before she jammed her finger. With a deep breath she tried again.
"Very true," Citrine smiled. "He's a very shy man, isn't he? I've only seen his back."
Sophia was about to ask Citrine if she had seen the mask but decided it was best to hold her tongue.
"He's…kind…" she said, not knowing what else to say.
"Oh, I'm certain he is. I haven't seen much of him, although he is new to the house. I suppose it takes a bit of readjusting to…where did he come from?"
"He lived in Paris. My aunt knows him."
"Ah. I see."
With a shrug, Sophia added, "He's quite talented. I've heard his music and it's…it's beyond description. I could feel it almost as much as I could hear it. Does that make sense?"
Citrine laughed. "Not at all."
Sophia felt her cheeks redden. She was complimenting a man who seemed to want nothing to do with her. She should let him be.
But she couldn't. She could still see his eyes when she thought of him. One masked, one unmasked, both sharing the same deep sense of torment and inner turmoil. For as gruff as he was she sensed he was far more lonely than angry. And it made her heart ache to think that someone so talented lived within a single room.
And shared his music with no one.
"Well, he's a very good composer. And he's freezing, I'm sure! Unless he enjoys the cold."
"Be careful, Sophia," Citrine warned with a soup ladle in hand. "That wood is heavy, and you must be very wary of ice beneath the snow."
"I will only be a moment," Sophia promised.
-o-
"I've only seen his back…"
Erik could hear Sophia and Citrine in the kitchen when he crept down the stairs, feeling increasingly foolish with each step. He was ashamed of himself for secretly leaving, but he was too desperate to escape to allow the thought to germinate. He needed to leave this place and that girl.
He had two thousand francs from Ann Giry stuffed in his pocket and the unread letter folded neatly in the other. He didn't much care what the note said. He would never see her again. If he had his druthers he would never see another man or woman for the rest of his days.
"He's kind…"
The words made him pause in mid-step as he turned his head. He was kind. Was that what she said? Surely he had heard wrong. No one would describe him as kind. He stole money, food, stage props and lives. He kidnapped a woman and threatened to murder her fiancé. He was not kind.
He was a monster.
"He lived in Paris. My aunt knows him."
Erik's lips parted as he found himself like a fly stuck in honey. He wondered what Ann had told Sophia and Philippe, what secrets she divulged.
She wouldn't betray me, he convinced himself. She wouldn't help me escape and then lead the gendarmes to me.
"He's quite talented. I've heard his music and it's…it's beyond description. I could feel it almost as much as I could hear it. Does that make sense?" Sophia asked.
Slowly Erik eased his back against the wall and closed his eyes for a moment. He wanted to hear those words, but not now, not when he was attempting to flee. His hands balled into fists. Those words were empty promises, little snowflakes of hope that would melt the moment they fell into his open, waiting hands.
This was how he was going to die: standing in a hallway listening to Sophia as she gave him a bleeding ulcer.
"Well, he's a very good composer. And he's freezing, I'm sure! Unless he enjoys the cold."
Erik had to leave before she brought firewood inside. He forced himself to trudge ahead, taking only a small bag of clothes, the letter and money, and the dwindling hope that he could return to the opera house and live amongst the vermin.
As much as he wanted to look back he forced his eyes to stare straight ahead. It was better to leave it behind, better to forget than allow expectations to simmer.
The short chapter of his life was now over. Humanity would not have him, but darkness and quiet would embrace him with cold, unsympathetic arms.
-0-
Sophia slipped several feet from the back door and landed on her side. She swore softly, made the sign of the cross, and rose to her feet. Glancing around, she dusted herself off and proceeded around the corner.
"Oh, Gabe!" she said under her breath. "One log! Is that all you could chop, you fool?" she grumbled, wondering if perhaps Citrine was correct.
The cutting stump stood dusted in snow, with the ax stuck in the center. Sophia rubbed her hands together before she reached for the ax handle. Gripping it tightly, she gave it a tug.
And fell into the snow again with the ax mocking her.
Slapping the ground, she climbed to her feet and tried again, this time wiggling the ax loose. It was much heavier than she expected, so she set it in the snow and watched it fall with a heavy thump. Sophia took a deep breath and grabbed a piece of wood, setting it upright on the block.
For a moment she wondered if she could hold the ax over her head and chop wood. It was either chop several pieces or freeze, and as it was, she was freezing.
Perhaps she would be forced to ask Monsieur Belmont for his assistance. With a sigh she picked up the only log left outside, then remembered that Gabe's father kept a woodpile in the front of the home that stood between the main house and the smokehouse.
"Smart as a whip, Sophia," she said to herself as she rounded the corner.
Her feet came out from under her and she let out a yelp as the log slipped from her hands. Closing her eyes she braced herself for impact on the frozen ground. What she hit was solid but warm.
Sophia remained stock still, unsure of what had happened. She could feel someone breathing heavily on the top of her head. Then, as though her mind was slowly registering the world around her, she felt hands holding painfully tight to her arms. And a chest against her face, the smell of cedar in her nostrils.
"Please let me go," she said against the chest moving up and down against her face.
The hands slowly loosened and she felt him push her away. The man muttered something under his breath once her feet were firmly on the ground. The individual stepped back and turned away, though his size distinguished him.
"Monsieur Belmont?" Sophia questioned.
He didn't reply but Sophia noticed he was holding the only piece of chopped wood.
"Oh good, you saved the wood as well," she said with a slight chuckle, hoping he would say something in return. When he merely glanced at her from over his shoulder she wrung her hands and bit her lip. "I seem to be rather clumsy around you, Monsieur."
"Go inside," he said gruffly.
"I can't Monsieur," she said.
He turned to stare at her, though Sophia couldn't tell where his eyes were, as the hood he wore was deep and covered his face down to his nose. She felt very small beneath his scrutinizing gaze—because she was certain he was glaring at her for her obtuse comment.
"There's no wood," she blurted out. "Only that one piece. The house is freezing, Gabe and his father are gone, as is my brother and—"
He turned and walked away from her and as if she were attached by a string, she scuttled along behind him.
"Are you out for a walk this evening, Monsieur?" Sophia asked. She wanted to bite her tongue for continuing with her one-way conversation. She knew she was irritating him.
"No," he answered, which surprised Sophia.
He threw the log on the snow and tossed a small bag beside it. Sophia nearly tripped over the ax, which was still lying where she had left it. She stood for a moment with her hands clasped until she realized she was standing over the ax.
"Oh," she said as she hopped backward. "Oh, you were coming to chop wood?"
In one smooth movement he unclasped his cloak and set it over a low tree branch. As he turned she saw him unbutton his waistcoat and then set it aside.
"You'll…freeze," she said softly.
Erik glanced at her but didn't reply, which made her blush. She wasn't sure why he made her blush but she stepped back until she was beneath the tree where he couldn't see her face in the moonlight.
His every movement was fluid and graceful, unlike anything she had seen before. Sophia watched as he set a piece of wood on the block and hefted the ax without a word. She felt as though she was watching something intimate, though she had often seen Gabe and his father chop wood as well as many other men who worked at the vineyard. There was nothing intimate about it, but still she felt as if she should avert her eyes.
But it was impossible to look away. Sophia was mesmerized by how he stood with his feet shoulder's width apart. He wasn't barrel-chested or particularly muscular but he was tall and lean, long-legged. He grasped the ax in both hands and let it fly, sending the first block of wood flying into two pieces.
Sophia started to gather them but he glared at her. "Out of the way, lest you want an ax through your back, girl."
His cold words were warning enough and she scuttled to safety again, standing beneath the tree with her face burning at his tone.
Erik moved swiftly, driving the blade through several blocks of wood until he had created a small pile. Once he finished he tossed the ax in the snow again and turned toward Sophia, the visible side of his face glossy with sweat, his chest heaving. He stared at her briefly and Sophia moved forward slowly, her heart beating wildly.
"Th-thank you," she said.
He nodded once, his light eyes still fixed on her face. Sophia felt as if she were standing before an unfamiliar dog, one that would either snarl or wag its tail. The only thing she could do was stand and wait for him to acknowledge her.
Erik looked away first and exhaled, his breath rolling through the air. He looked as though he was deciding something, as his brow lowered and his shoulders rose slightly.
"Where does this go?" he asked as he crouched down and gathered several logs.
Sophia pointed toward the back door. Before she knew it he strode away, leaving her to collect his waistcoat and cloak.
She tugged the cloak from the tree branch and folded it neatly in her arms, smelling him in the fabric. Her eyes closed again and she could still see him splitting wood. The thought made her smile to herself before the wind picked up again and the end of the cloak slapped her in the face, signaling it was time to return inside.