Christine awoke groggily to a dull pain along her left side where her hips and ribcage were resting uncomfortably on the stone floor. Her bare feet felt like ice cubes at the ends of her legs but her back was surprisingly warm. As she opened her gritty eyes she saw in the dim light Erik's arm draped over her waist, curled up around her. Her head was resting on his other arm that stretched out before her eyes along the floor. She was reluctant to move from his warmth and gentle embrace but the discomfort of having slept on the stone floor was becoming more and more painful. She carefully took purchase of his wrist and lifted his arm off her waist and rolled out from under it, placing it lightly to the floor behind her. Erik murmured something in his sleep and seemed to reach out for her as he curled himself a tighter ball on the still wet cloak beneath him.
Christine stood and stretched her cold stiff limbs, trying to work the blood back into them. It was still rather dark outside, but it was blessedly quiet. The storm had stopped blowing sometime in the night as they slept. She shivered as the air hit the side of her thin chemise which was still wet from having slept on the cloak. The rest of her clothing was still lying in a heap of mud and water, completely ruined. She treaded over to pick it up. It was a hopeless mess of tattered cloth. She let it fall back to the floor with a squelch. She found her cloak where Erik hung it out. It was drier than she thought it would be and quickly draped it around her shoulders, wrapping herself in the dirty cloth.
The mare Erik had ridden to rescue her had risen sometime ago and was now standing near the doorway with its head hung low, still resting from its brutal ride. Christine patted the horse's neck, flaking off some mud that had dried to its hair with her fingernails. Its muscles twitched against her palm and she stroked it, thanking it for carrying them both.
Erik still slept on the floor, his breathing deep and even. She crept over to him, debating on whether or not to wake him when she saw it. In the pale light that fought its way through the church's dirty windows she saw an object lying next to Erik's back. It must have fallen out of his pocket or cloak after they lay down. She bent to pick it up, curious as to what it was. She squinted to examine the object and saw that it was a small black box. Her eyes went wide and she gasped when she recognized the insignia stamped onto the top. Two doves flying side by side; it was from the town jeweler! She dropped the box in shock and it bounced off the floor, the noise sounding louder than she expected it to. It landed a short distance from where she picked it up. Erik groaned something incomprehensible and rolled to his back. She held her breath as he settled back into sleep waiting to move until she was certain he would not wake to find her standing over him.
She backed away, never taking her eyes off him, still holding her breath. Her mind was suddenly racing with every question and thought imaginable. What was in that box? Her mind knew with a certainty what it contained. She just did not realize how serious Erik's affections were until just now. She knew he loved her, but this seemed a drastic jump in their relationship. She was his student and he her teacher, and while they were most definitely something more, they had never formally courted, or had they? There were no rose colored promises of things to come as there had been with Raoul pursuing her. Erik did not seem to live in anything but the moment, as if that were all he could imagine possible; as if the future might never come to be. But it was true, they had spent countless hours alone together, doing many of the same things that she and Raoul did in their pastime. Erik gave her flowers and wrote music for her, he took her out in carriage rides and gave her everything she desired. There had never been any declaration of intent, other than his admittance of loving her. There was no formal agreement between them. But did that change anything? She suddenly saw on how many levels Erik truly saw him competing with Raoul. It was not just for her time or admiration, but for her love and the ultimate choice between the two in a decision that would last forever and not for just the moment.
What would she decide? She did not know. Erik had bought a ring so inevitably the proposal would be soon to follow. She knew suddenly that she wasn't ready to give any sort of answer, never truly having considered the question before now. Did she love Erik enough to give him her life and forego her relationship with Raoul? What of the future? Were there other prospects to be had? She knew were she to choose Erik, her friendship with Raoul would no longer be viable. She would have to once again be separated from her childhood friend. She shook her head to herself. She needed time, and she feared that the time between now and when she would be forced to come to an answer, might not be enough.
She sat on a pew, staring up toward the altar. Well, she thought, at least she had warning to think things through. If not, she would surely have made a fool of herself and would probably break Erik's heart if she answered with her first reaction; panic. Somehow she knew this was coming, that eventually she would be forced to make up her mind, but not now; certainly not this week. Had this been Erik's plan all along? It couldn't have been, she convinced herself. He had bought the ring here, probably yesterday since there were few other opportunities when he was alone long enough to go to the shop.
She heard Erik stirring behind her. She sat still and pretended not to hear him as he sat up and yawned. Was it her imagination or did she hear him curse? She waited another moment, then stood and turned to face him.
The box was gone, presumably back where it had fallen out of before.
"Good morning, Christine," He said. "Are you alright today?"
"Yes, Erik. A little stiff and I'm still cold, but I think I'm alright," her voice sounded more sure than she felt.
He cracked his neck loudly to one side then the next then proceeded to stretch his back out with his palms behind him. He avoided looking right at her, she noticed. He picked up his shirt and shook it out, causing leaves to go flying in the wind it caused.
"Ruined waste," she caught him saying to himself as he pulled it on. He strode over to the doors and opened them with a small struggle. The wood was swollen with the rain and did not like budging. It scraped noisily against the floor as he pushed them open. The faint sunlight was turning the sky pink and blue and she could hear a few birds chirping already. Erik turned to find his socks and boots and pulled them roughly onto his feet. He found Christine's boots and her wool socks and handed them to her. They were not dry but it was better than being barefoot. She pulled them on slowly as she watched Erik lead the horse outside.
'He must think I saw it', she thought. She was going to have to act nonchalant until she could convince him otherwise. The longer the subject was put off, she thought, the better. She followed him outside and found him wiping the horse down with a handful of long grass. He checked her hooves for damage then allowed her to graze as he came back inside.
"She's alright," he said. "Thankfully she did not injure herself last night while carrying us. I rode her hard."
Christine agreed. "I hope Marie isn't too worried. I hope her place is alright. That was the worst storm I've ever seen."
"It was most likely a typhoon that ran aground. They happen from time to time," Erik said knowingly. He picked up his cloak and shook most of the dirt and debris that clung to it from off the floor.
"What do you want to do about your dress?" he asked her. "Do you want to try and save it?"
Christine did not have an extensive wardrobe, but looking at the wet and muddy pile on the ground she shook her head. Even if she could somehow clean it, it would look awful and was fit for a rag-picker's cart.
"Then we will leave it here. We should get a start back so we can get clean and into some warmer clothes."
"And get some food too," Christine exclaimed as her stomach painfully rumbled.
"I agree. I've eaten nothing since breakfast yesterday," he replied.
Outside as the sun rose to light the sky Christine could see the destructive force of the storm everywhere. Trees were down, branches were strewn across the lawn, piles of dead leaves lie where the floodwater had deposited them. Her feet sank into the mud until it reached the ankles of her tall boots.
Erik lifted her onto the horse's back and took the reigns in his hand to lead them back toward the road. "The ground is too soft for her to carry both of us and I would only burden her like that if it were truly necessary."
Erik walked with high steps, pulling his feet from the muck and stepping over fallen branches across the path. He led the horse behind him, stepping carefully and frequently looking back at Christine. It was going to be a long time back to the inn.
Erik took care to lead them where he was certain the horse's hooves would not sink too far into the ground and slip on the sloping hillside. The rainfall had washed away most of the gravel that covered the road, leaving behind deep rivets cut into its surface. At the base of one hill the standing water rose nearly to Erik's waist and he fought against a tangle of broken treetops beneath the surface to get past.
Christine watched him struggle to get them back to the inn. She admired his tenacity and marveled at his strength. Could she imagine Raoul doing the same? Certainly his chivalrous nature would cause him to rush off to her rescue, but she could not imagine him trudging through the mud to spare their mount the exhaustion of carrying them both. He probably would not have known to lay together skin against skin to keep warm. They most likely would have frozen in their wet things rather than allow her to tarnish her innocence.
She flushed with the thought. Had the circumstances been different, she could imagine how heavenly it would have been to lie in Erik's arms, safe and protected, and warm. Being wet and half frozen on a stone floor sort of destroyed that mood, but it had been an unexpectedly pleasant sensation waking up in his arms nonetheless. Her face felt hot as she let her mind wander into a short fantasy. She and Erik lying side by side in his bed, his finger stroking the hair back out of her face as he kissed her gently. That, she realized, could be a very real possibility. As enjoyable as the thought was, it still frightened her. Was she ready?