Erik stirred, the amber and orange hues of the setting sun spilled into the room, painting the walls with glinting gold as the rays danced on the finely polished wooden walls surrounding his bed. The curtains still fluttering lightly as the warm breezes pushed them about at will. In the glow of the failing light, they looked strangely like golden tipped wings of angels swishing to and fro as they floated over him.
He inhaled and exhaled, much more freely than he had that morning, the medicine of the physician had begun to heal his lungs. Moving his arms out to his sides attempting to stretch, his left hand brushed against a soft mass. He quickly withdrew it as he turned his head to his side, making him slightly dizzy at first. Focusing his eyes he saw what he had touched. There at his side, sleeping peacefully was Christine. A stack of parchment lay in her lap, several sheets on the floor. She looked so relaxed, one hand resting on the bed next to him, the other covering her abdomen protectively.
Erik mused as he thought of what a fine mother she would no doubt be to their child. Her youth would make chasing a child about much less a chore…his maturity offering much in the way of strength and ability to educate. He'd fashioned Christine in a small way, but she was still very much her own person, having years of exposure to many other things. But this…this new life that was growing inside of her….he would have the potential to shape it from its very beginning…to nourish it…to love it…to watch it thrive and grow…. Erik's heart began to swell again. This was a new love…a different love than what he felt for Christine…it was one that he could share in with her…although she would not be the object of it…they would share it just as they now shared each breath.
It was strangely pleasing to him, the knowledge that Christine held within her being the evidence, the product of their love. She carried it with her wherever she went….he smiled, reaching out placing his hand over hers, as he gazed on her resting form. Her cheeks were rosy and ever-so-slightly fuller than they had been. Her lips seemed to be smiling though she slept. She'd not lost any of her gracefulness in the relaxed comfort of her new surroundings, for she appeared as sumptuous as he remembered from the last time they embraced as husband and wife.
He'd have so many more questions to ask the physician. While he'd read many books on medical studies, he'd not read much on the time when a woman is "with child". For he would surely want to relish this marvel of life, and be as dutifully doting as a loving husband could be.
Christine drew in a sharp breath, mumbling something, and her eyes opened widely. She turned to look at Erik, a relieved expression overtaking her face as his eyes met hers. She yawned, briefly withdrawing her hand from her stomach to cover her mouth. Subconsciously, her hand had stayed at Erik's side…he would always come first…always. "You are awake!" she said, straightening herself in the chair, squeezing his hand in hers. "And so are you!" he said smiling back at her.
She looked down at the papers that had fallen to the floor, and quickly back up at Erik, thinking he would be displeased to see his work so careless strewn about, but his eyes never left her face. He stared at her with such depth, it was as though he was bypassing her mind, conversing directly with her soul. "I've missed you…" he said, smiling at her.
Christine felt a tear escape her lower lid, running down the side of her cheek. "I never left your side." She smiled turning to face him, the last pages of parchment slipping down her dress and onto the floor to join the others.
"I've missed your touch, your voice…my husband…" Christine rose above Erik, pressing her lips tenderly against his. "Christine, I've so much to learn, so much to ask…our roles will be reversed for a brief time…" Christine sat next to him on the edge of his bed, stroking his forehead.
"We have as much time as you need Erik," she said sighing peacefully as she began wringing out a cool cloth in the basin on the table. She didn't care how long it took, for now he was awake, conversing, responding. She lifted the cloth to his face, smoothing it over his jaw, his left cheek, and then down over his right, on down his neck and chest.
The sensation made Erik shiver. Christine smiled at him "does that feel good?" she asked. She'd done it hundreds of times over the last two months, in part to comfort him, and in part to break the terrible fever that raged threatening to do him in. But he had been asleep during those times, and now he was very much aware of her touch.
Erik was unaccustomed to this kindness, but savored it none-the-less. She turned and dipped the cloth in the water again, wringing it, taking hold of Erik's left arm, slowly running it down the length of it from shoulder to fingertip. The cool tingle intensified by the warm breeze that wafted from beneath the flowing curtains. This was a rare sensory treat indeed, something he'd not experienced in his lifetime. They sat in silence, as Christine continued giving him his bath, covering ever inch of him. Exchanging glances a smattering of love, embarrassment, acceptance, resignation, and thankfulness.
Christine had been humming one of the songs that Erik had written so many years ago while he was still beneath the Opera House. It was of particular tenderness for him as it had been the one he had composed the very night he realized that his love for Christine was no longer platonic…it was a romantic awakening for him, and it both confused and terrified him then. Christine finished his bath, pulling a clean white sheet from the stack on the dresser, she gently laid it over Erik.
He could not bear to thank her, humility was a new beast to him, he'd have to wrestle with it before he could make such a forthcoming acknowledgement of his vulnerability. "Christine…that song…." She turned to look at him as she wrapped the discarded sheet and towel into a bundle for the maid. "Yes, this one is my favorite…it has such innocent passion…such blooming love…it kept me company the many days, and nights that I longed for your gaze."
He glanced away. They had been his most intimate thoughts. And though they were inspired by Christine, it was unsettling to him that she had discovered them…embraced them. "And have you learned to sing it my dear?" Christine turned back, sitting down on the bed again. "I've read the words silently in my mind…hummed the music….but could not bear to sing it out loud without the instruction of my angel!" Christine smiled at him. "I intruded on your most private thoughts, your music…without your knowledge…I could not take that liberty without your permission."
Erik squeezed her hand. She was his wife, but still respected his position as her teacher. That both comforted and saddened him, and he was not at all certain why. "We will have to see to that, perhaps tomorrow we could…." Christine interrupted him. "My dear, dear, Erik. We must take this slowly. I fear that your mind has recovered more rapidly than your body." She patted his chest carefully. "Tomorrow we will begin with letting you sit up for awhile. I'm sure you'd like to get a good look at the sea you can no doubt hear."
Erik scowled, this would indeed be difficult. Sit up and look? He wanted to feel the sand in his toes, the surf on his feet, Christine's hand in his as he walked with her, explaining why he had selected this place, showing her the deciduous trees, the natural flora, the delicate balance of the eco-system. His eyes darted back as he watched Christine standing, gathering up the bowl and walking toward the door. "Where are you going?
Christine turned back to look at him. She smiled "I won't be gone long my dear. I'm going to see about having a cot brought in for me so we can talk until we fall off to sleep." "But my dear, there is plenty of room for you here" Erik said patting the right side of the bed that was quite barren. Christine lowered her head laughing "I'd like nothing better my sweet, but I'm quite afraid I thrash about in my sleep now…I get quite warm, and it would do little good for either of us if I kept you up all night!"
Erik exhaled, expressing his disappointment "very well, but do not be long, I've much to ask you." Christine left the room, closing the door behind her. The light was now disappearing to barely a deep silvery-violet sliver. An eerie cast of shadows from the curtains now dancing on the wall.
Erik's hand traveled up to his face again. He'd have to ask her about his mask. His skin felt so strange to him. Surely air would not change the texture that much. He smoothed his hand, tracing the hairline, the lump that lay just above his ear was nearly undetectable. The rough pull under his eye felt different, just how he couldn't explain. He ran his hand over to his left eye, perceiving the similarities that the lower lids now shared. He shuddered. No doubt his mind was playing tricks on him.
He startled as the door pushed open, a bed protruded from the opening, Erik strained to see who was pushing it, ready to scold Christine if it was she. A frightened shriek rose from Erik's lips as the form came into view. "Good evening to you Erik! Hope you've slept well. Won't be too much longer and I can bake those cookies you like." The woman smiled as she pushed the bed beneath the window next to Erik's. She left the room to retrieve linens, smiling at him, closing the door behind her.
"Sara?" his mind was reeling. She'd said his name, he was sure of it…yes…he had much to ask Christine when she returned.