Christine lay on the divan, the soft glow of the fireplace, freshly stoked by the maid, providing both light and warmth to the room. The papers she'd written lay on her chest. She'd decided not to revise them, nor begin again. Her father had taught her that first instincts, first words, first thoughts, were far more true than any other. Revisions were what we made once we began to consider how what we'd done would be perceived by others. It was a form of compromise. If one wanted to speak truly from their heart….first words were always best, and most true. He'd given her so much advice as a young girl, and she could hardly believe that she'd remembered the lot of it. Perhaps it was his point of making constant reaffirmation of a lesson until he felt she'd understood it, or perhaps it was his living example, or opportune choice of timing. Whatever it had been, there was much she'd remembered, and much to be thankful to him for.
Christine's ears perked up as she heard the grandfather clock chime seven times. It was later than she'd imagined. She wandered to the window, pushing the curtains aside. It looked like a mid-winter's night. It was certain that there was enough snow on the ground to make it look like a bed that had been layered over an entire winter, storm after storm. It seemed that the snow had subsided, and the hardened rain that fell made everything glimmer as if coated in glass.
She hoped that wherever in Chauesser Erik was that he was warm and safe now. She so hoped that he'd found the woman safe and sound back at the tavern…she frowned…but if he had, he'd have been home even now.
She shook her head, raising both hands to the sides of her cheeks, rubbing gently across her eyes, and down her neck. She let her hands run down over the center of her chest. She seemed to be tender from stem to stern tonight; so much as a gentle brush of a hand made her ache. No doubt this was all part of what she would be experiencing as her pregnancy progressed. Her hand rested on the small lump under her navel. She'd had supper, and a pot of tea, but the thought of another slice of that cake sounded rather inviting. That, and some of the pickled watermelon rinds that Sara had brought from her inn. It made Christine sad twice over.
First she missed Sara, and secondly, she thought of the last time she'd had them. It was with Sara, as they sat by the fire at Courtland Manor one of the many nights that Christine couldn't sleep. She'd been hungry for something sweet, but salty. Sara had retrieved a jar of them, and given Christine a plate of them along with slices of cheddar cheese. It had satisfied her in a strange way. Now that sounded wonderful to her, though she knew Sara's last jars were still at Courtland Manor.
Her mind quickly wandered to Nadir. She hoped he'd not been caught in the storm. As near as she could estimate when he left, he should easily have made it to Paris before the storm hit, if it had gone that far.
Certainly if Paris was covered in this sort of snow, it would delay even further Sara's burial. How sad, she thought, to be denied being laid to rest for so long. There was little that could be done now. She hoped it would not be too long before they would hear from Nadir, either in person or by messenger. She longed to know of Meg's progress. To hear of the progress on the reconstruction of the Opera House. To find out how her friends were, if they were beginning to return. She'd so many questions she'd like answers to.
Her heart sank. She felt warm. She wondered with great sadness how many times her mind would wander back to a life she could no longer lay claim to. That life was gone, a past she could never return to. She could never walk the streets of Paris again as she once had. If ever they did return, it would have to be under the cloak of night for a secret meeting. She shook her head. She'd made her choice, and no choice is without consequence. She rubbed over her stomach once more. She'd no regrets, but that did not mean she shan't wonder of her old life, or those she'd come to know. She would always wonder.
She blinked, "was that my stomach?" She heard it again. Yes indeed it was, a low growl. She wondered how she could be hungry yet again when she'd finished eating just an hour before. She supposed it mattered little, if she were hungry, she'd best eat. She had more than herself to think about now. And, that cake did sound entirely wonderful…and…a dish of apples. She could hear Erik's voice in her head. The apples for her health, the cake for her craving…both gave her cause to smile just thinking of Erik. She wandered out of the room and down toward the kitchen.
XXX
Nicole was fast asleep when her mother finished the bowl of soup that the man had brought for her. Her mother had tried to gently wake her, but she was so exhausted she was barely breathing she slept so soundly. "I should leave her here sir. I'll go out, and please do not try to dissuade me. I am to travel just up this road and back down again. If I do not return in an hour's time, then please send someone for me. I'll not now risk anyone else's comforts to take them with me. Please do see that she's watched over for me won't you?"
The man nodded. The tavern was full of all sorts of people though he doubted any would have been foolish enough to disturb this young woman, one just never knew. He'd ask one of the other girls that had been there to take leave and sit with Nicole as she slept. He'd no doubt whomever he chose shouldn't mind such an assignment.
He helped the woman bundle herself up, adding a few of his own scarfs around her head and neck. Secretly he'd hoped that the Erik would have returned by now, but he'd not seen so much as a hint of him. If this woman was his wife he'd have forbid that she go, but she was not, so he'd little he could do but prepare her as best he could. He walked with her to the door. "Take care, and here, take this," he handed her a sturdy wooden pole with a thick nail protruding from the end, "this will make traveling on this much easier."
She smiled at him. "Thank you, and thank you for watching out for Nicole. She's a wonderful daughter, I shan't know what I would do without her." The man nodded his head in agreement.
"She shall one day make a wonderful wife for someone. I only wish that my own sons were older, I'd say they could find no better a mate than she."
Nicole's mother smiled. "Thank you for your kind words sir. I hope one day for a good match for her. I've no doubt she shall one day. For now, she is far too devoted to her grandmother to even consider such things."
The man nodded again, it was only so true. He opened the door for her, the cold wind swirling in with a rush making all within its grasp shudder just slightly.
The icy fingers lapped at Nicole's cheek. She sat straight up rubbing at her eyes. "Mother?" She was blinking trying to focus her eyes. "MOTHER!" she called out.
Her mother had half a mind to dash out the door before Nicole saw her, but she could not bear the pitiful look of horror on her daughter's face. She went to her. Embracing her she said, "Nicole, you are far too tired to be back out in that storm. You need to rest. Stay here by the warm fire, I shan't be gone more than an hour child."
Nicole struggled to get out from beneath the blankets. She was reaching for her boots.
"Nicole, listen to me, you are too exhausted, you'll fall deathly ill if you try to…:"
Nicole stood, boots on her feet looking around for her cloak. She'd never spoken out against her mother's wishes, but she could not refrain. Perhaps it was her exhaustion that made her so bold, but bite her tongue she could not. "Mother, I've lived here with you and grandmother for four years now. I've cared for her, fed her, retrieved her dozens of times. Now, when she needs me most you'd expect that I'd prefer my own comforts over her survival?"
Her mother taken back by such strong words from her daughter, stammered for a moment. "Nicole, it is too dangerous for you to…:"
Yet again she interrupted her. "I'm a grown woman now mother. If I should see fit to accompany you, I see that it is not within your power to deny me. I've the map, and the flask and as you can see I am fully ready now, you shan't be able to shed me as a sheep does his coat at the sheer. Wherever you are going, I am going with you!" Nicole now stood foot to foot, nose to nose with her mother.
She'd want to scream at her, to order her to stay, forbid her to go, but she knew Nicole was right. She was a full grown woman who'd made sacrifices for her family. She could not deny her this one chance to save her grandmother. She looked at her daughter, no amount of fighting would dissuade her. "Very well then, bundle up, we'll be on our way."
The man quickly scurried in, providing Nicole a cup of broth to sup before leaving. She took it gratefully. In just a minute's time she and her mother went once more to the door. The rope lashed securely about each other's waists. It would be far safer for them she knew.
Her mother held up the pole she was given. "I shall lead the way Nicole." Nicole looked at the ground, and back up at her mother. "I am stronger and faster mother…." She began. That elicited an equally appropriate response, "yes, but I've the pole, and I shan't be giving it to you." Nicole grimaced. Her mother was right, she'd lead the way, Nicole would follow.
XXXXX
Raoul's house had not been witness to such laughter in many long years, perhaps not ever since he'd occupied it. The game had proven to be exactly what all souls concerned were in need of. The questions had run the gambit from favorite food, to favorite author, to least favorite experience, to most wonderful teacher, to least comfortable article of outer clothing, most admired figure in history, most irritating personality, the moment you were most frightened, favorite eye color, to the restaurant in Paris you would most like to go but you'd never been.
The answers to some questions were truly enlightening especially for the two couples in the room. Though they'd not made it anything less than pleasant for DeChagny. He'd joined in the revelry. With no family, save Raoul and his sister in close proximity, he'd missed many social occasions with family. Oh he'd had more than his share of quintessential soirees, but a true family event where all pretense is set aside in favor of immersing oneself in simple pleasures for the sake of pleasure, had never been part of his vocabulary, let alone his life.
When his wife had been alive she'd entertained, but even that was socially proper. Informal family gatherings with just Raoul, his sister, and father were so few that Raoul could count them on both hands. His father had simply been too consumed with position, status, and business, to be bothered with the frivolity of play. There would always be time later for such things. What he knew now, but didn't understand then, was that tomorrow held no guarantee for happiness. Today was all that was possible to embrace.
The stemmed dessert glasses lay abandoned on the table, in various stages of consumption. Meg had somehow managed to finish all of hers. Raoul had a few bites remaining. Madame Giry and Nadir had nearly finished theirs, and DeChagny had all but licked his dish clean. The chuckling continued long after the nightcap had been poured.
"Nadir, do tell us. If the most irritating personality was this dear friend of yours, it is truly a wonder that you've managed to remain friends all of these many years. How is that possible. The friend must have a good bit of information to use as bribery, or he is entirely too wealthy to ignore."
Both Madame Giry and Meg's expressions changed. From the description that Nadir had shared, they both knew it was of Erik that he spoke though he'd given no telling detail. Nadir sensed the shift. DeChagny was both genuinely interested and entirely curious for other reasons.
Nadir sat back, he'd be eloquent, but say no more than he'd intended. "You see my friend, people come into your life for a number of reasons. Some for a moment, some for a season, and some for a lifetime. For instance. You are traveling in your carriage out of Paris, and a wheel loosens itself from your carriage. The driver has neither the strength nor the tools to remedy the situation. Just then a man happens upon you that not only knows how to change the wheel, but has all of the necessary tools in the wagon he's pulling, to do the job right then and there. Not several minutes up the road a man lays in wait to plunder the next carriage that comes along. As it turns out, yours would have been the next carriage had you not been delayed. The robber tires of waiting, and leaves just minutes before you are on your way past that very spot. Those are people that come into your life for a reason, and then they are gone." Nadir stopped, making certain to look each person in they eye.
"Then, there are people you meet such as a business associate, a summer friend, a doctor. Someone who is there for you, perhaps for a long while, and once the reason for their presence has been satisfied, they are gone, and you never see them again as long as you live. Those are the people, whom you likely cared very much about, but were destined to be in your life for but a season, to help you through a difficult time, or move your life in a different direction." He paused, the next statement meant far more to him then he would ever be able to express.
"Then, there are people that come into your life, that are there for a variety of reasons. Perhaps it is for you to help them, perhaps they are helping you. You might share many trials and tribulations, and even you yourselves may be at odds for periods of time in your relationship. However, no matter what happens in your life, they are always there, a constant reminder of who you are when all else is stripped away. They are the people that are in your life for a lifetime."
Nadir looked at DeChagny. "The odd thing really is that you shan't have a choice in the matter, it is simply what fate decides. The friend that I described, he is in my life now for many years. We've been through much together, for one another, and because of one another. We'd not chosen each other, and likely would never have been even acquaintances if it were not a case where we'd met under extenuating circumstances. We've been friends since that very day. He is my friend, one I could call on after long absences, and I know in my heart that he would make every effort, even at the cost of his own life to come to my aid. And I feel the same for him. And though we find each other entirely irritating, annoying, and at times unbearable, the truth of the matter is we belong to one another for a life time, for many seasons have passed, and we are yet as blood brothers."
DeChagny knew very little about this man that sat in his son's home. Could find nothing regarding his social standing, his past, but at this very moment, he would have traded all of his wealth to have even one other person on the earth feel the same way about him that Nadir felt about his friend. He was speechless, being able to say nothing more than "hmmmm."
Madame Giry had a large lump in her throat. Hearing Nadir speak with such passion about a man she knew could only be Erik, drove her feelings of guilt even deeper. She could not come between two friends who had this sort of admiration for one another. She had to tell Nadir. They both had commitments that would prevent them from pursuing anything more beyond that which they now shared, a deep friendship. They would have to be satisfied with that or risk tearing apart every other aspect of their lives, hurting far more than just the two of them.
She must stay in Paris, stay with Meg, and return to the Opera House, that was her life, her destiny. He needed to return to Erik, to the life he'd had before he met her. And Christine…that bridge would have to be crossed. She'd promised her, and she was as close to a mother as she'd ever had. With no father nor mother, she was truly alone.
Madame Giry gasped at the pain of the thought. Meg who had been lost in her own thoughts about the very man Nadir was speaking of, looked up at her mother. "Are you alright?"
Madame Giry realizing she'd gasped out loud, hastened to cover her emotions. "That was beautiful Nadir, I am certain that we can all recall people who have fit the very words you described so eloquently." Meg nodded in agreement.
Raoul and his father looked at one another. This was something that neither could recall feeling exactly. For them, people served a purpose, and if not for their obvious purpose, they did not stay in their lives. It was an invisible, but very tangible barrier that they'd never let anyone passed.
Perhaps they'd never truly needed anyone else badly enough. There was something that could be said about those who were isolated by their money and power. They might have every worldly comfort, but that which they craved the most, though never admitted to themselves, they did not possess. It was something all the money in the world could not buy.
Friendship, true friendship was priceless. The perspective was entirely from the eye of the beholder. What did one find valuable? The group sat, very much together, but each contemplating their own private personal inventory…asking that all important question, where is your heart?
Their silent reflection was precipitously interrupted by Madeline who'd come in with a hot pot of coffee, and a tray to collect the dessert dishes. As she left she nodded to Raoul, "you peek out window, storm turns now." The group were at once on their feet moving to the window as Madeline closed the doors behind her.
Raoul drew the curtain back as they stood in front of the window. The lawn was lit like a million diamonds. The sky was clear, save a few little clouds that still remained. The moon was out, bright and brimming. The snow that fell now was the kind one wished for on Christmas Eve. Light and fluffy, large flakes floating to the ground without so much as a breeze to disturb them. The site was one they all stood in awe of. It was truly a wondrous thing to behold.
The storm had unleashed its furry with a vengeance, and now the calm after the storm was breathtaking. All that remained for the morrow was to discover with what ferocity mother nature had claimed her rightful due. For tonight the beauty of the snowfall was peaceful, delightful, and they hoped, the last they would see of winter for a very long while.
Madame Giry had made her way over to the coffee returning with several cups, handing them first to Raoul and his father, returning with one for Meg and Nadir, and lastly one for herself. They stood in the quiet of one another's company. They'd forged a memory this night, one that each would carry to their grave, it had been a wonderful night, without all the pretense, without all the complications many previous nights had held. Tonight was pure and simple pleasure, just for the sake of pleasure.
Author's Notes:
Captain Oblivious: Oh, there you go again, invading Erik's space! You know he doesn't take kindly to anyone's touch but his Christine! He is a hero….or is he….hmmmm. That shall be sticking point….but I'll say no more.
'Dear Frankie', is in video stores in my area now, but I must confess I ordered my from Amazon the first day it was available for purchase. I do love it so, but it is sad. I've a brother-in-law who had a similar experience, though he'd not meet his father until he was in his thirties. It is a good one, and nice to see Gerry in a more modern role, of a non-character, character.
Draegon-fire: Nice to hear from you. I am such a worry wart when someone in our Phamily isn't heard from for a long while. Especially with all this crazy weather going on around the world! I too am glad you've had a chance to catch up. Yes, there is much happening around the issues you mentioned. Nadir and DeChagny…both after Madame Giry…oh can you imagine what Erik would say if he knew! LOL. Keep in touch, we miss you when you're gone!
WriterMuseoftheNight: Touche'! I think Erik wouldn't tell me either if I asked him about your affiliation! It is so wonderful to have a collection of people who all think that Erik is entirely worthy of our adoration! I am glad to hear you approve of the story thus far. Some areas are a bit of a stretch, but then again, what story isn't! I do like the physical change for Erik's appearance. His voice, his presence, it all deserved to be crowned with equally good looks, especially when that had been what deprived him of the love that he sought.
Phantomlover05: Overdue, but somehow it seems like it will only complicate things further…..
Phantomfan13: Thank you for your kind words. There was so much that Christine would have loved to say to Erik, but she feared her words would appear so inferior to what he could write that she just couldn't bring herself to write any more. She loved him, it had been her waking mind that had fought it, but in the end her heart had won, and she was blessed with a happiness that she could only have imagined. Ahhh….the hopeless romantic in my surfaces yet again! LOL!
Interesting info about your grandmother! I always think we can learn so much from the past…enough that it makes us embrace the future with such open arms, for one day our ancestors will be asking about us…what did they accomplish?
Phantomsrogue: I have to admit I've been entirely distracted by the idea you suggest, and am already formulating possibilities in my head…but oh where to put such a creative license to use? It belongs as a fanfic, but then again, under what heading? Yes, I agree that the Phantom may have understood, he himself having taken in a young muse, but he had decided to love, nurture, protect, although not without obsession….Lestat and Louis…well, theirs was an odd sort of love, for Louis an accident, for Lestat an opportunity to keep Louis in line. In the end it would be the lesser of two evils, the divergence of two obsessions…both dark and long suffering….oh my…now I've lost myself in that thought all over again. Blast! Oh, and the physical proximity of all those places in Paris….it could work I say! Blast and double blast!
Yes, now back THE story….the struggles for the family are not yet over, nor is the story, though Erik will struggle through it. Oh, I cannot say more lest I spoil my own story!