Chapter Thirty-Three

She turned her head to look at him. He was staring back at her with absolute honesty. The love in his eyes warmed her from head to foot, and she shivered a little. She met his gaze with absolute love of her own. As if by some unseen signal, they both leaned closer to each other for a kiss.

Before their lips could meet, something started to vibrate on Alison's bedside table.

Erik jumped. "What is that?"

Alison leaned over and grabbed it. She pressed a button, holding it to her ear.

"Hello?"

She listened for a moment. "Okay, we're coming down."

She listened again, then nodded. "All right. And after dinner, Erik and I will probably want to talk to him alone. Should we bring him to my room or do it in the living room?"

At the unheard reply, she said, "Thanks. We'll be down in a moment."

She pulled the thing away from her ear and pressed a button. She was about to put it back on her bedside table when she noticed Erik's curious stare. She held it up so that he could see it.

"This is a cell phone. I think it's short for cellular telephone or something like that."

"Telephone?" Erik asked curiously. "I had heard of an invention in my time that was called the telephone, I think. It did not seem interesting to me."

"Why?"

"Even if I owned such a device, what would I use it for? I have no friends besides Antoinette, and a well-placed letter brings her to me when I need her. There would be no one whom I could call." There was a touch of sadness in his voice, but he spoke matter-of-factly. He was just stating the truth, after all.

They sat in silence for a moment, then Erik said, "What did you use this 'cellular telephone' for just then?"

"Oh right. That was Mom. She told us to come down for dinner. And afterwards, I think we need to talk to our son." A little shiver of happiness went down her spine as she said the last words.

Erik noticed and smiled a little, but he was nervous at the prospect. "Talk to him about what?"

"He needs to know you're his father."

Erik nodded. Then something occurred to him. "Where is your mother?"

Alison frowned. "Downstairs, why?"

"She called you on your cellular telephone from downstairs?"

"Yes, she did. My parents are lovely people, but in the summer, we're all reasonably lazy. Nobody feels like actually getting up so we call each other's cell phones even if we're only rooms away."

"Ah," Erik said, though he didn't entirely understand.

Alison stood up and took his hand. "Come on, Mom's waiting."

Those words sent a spike of fear through him. He had never had an entire dinner with more than one person since he was a boy. And it wasn't just any dinner. In that moment, he felt as if his entire relationship with Alison was at stake. What if they don't like me? What if I say something wrong? What if they ask about the mask? Should I show them? What if they are scared? Not everyone can be as understanding as my Angelique. What if they force me to leave? And my son. What if he rejects me? Will she make me show him my face? What if he screams and runs away? What if…

Alison's voice cut into his thoughts. "You okay?"

He smiled at her, a fake smile meant to reassure her. "Yes, I am fine."

She was not convinced. "All right. Let's go."

She led him down the stairs, through a couple rooms, and into the living room/dining room where they ate. Her parents were already at the table and their son was sitting on the couch, wriggling impatiently. Alison went to him first, smiling.

"Hello, there. How are you?"

"Good." He smiled back.

"Time for dinner now. Up you get." She picked him up, carried him over to the table, and sat him in a booster seat. She buckled him in so that he couldn't get up and wander around.

Erik stood awkwardly, watching her and getting more nervous by the second.

"You don't have to just stand there, Erik," Sadie said, surprising him. "You should sit down. Your chair's right there next to Alison."

"Thank you," said Erik quietly. He hesitantly sat down in the chair, holding himself as stiffly and properly as he could and trying not to show his nerves.

Sadie smiled at him. "You don't have to be scared of us, Erik," she told him quietly. "We don't bite." She patted him on the arm and he looked down at the touch and back at her, surprise in his eyes.

"Well, only a little," Michael chimed in.

"Dad!" complained Alison.

Erik ducked his head and looked at his plate. They were having steak and green beans. There was more food on his plate than he'd ever had before and he stared at it in disbelief.

Alison noticed and whispered to him, "You don't have to eat it all if you don't want to. I know you don't eat much: I'll take some of it if you don't want it."

Erik nodded, mortified. This was all going badly and dinner hadn't even begun.

"Everyone's here now," Sadie said, "so as my parents always used to say, 'Good food, good meat–'"

"Good God, let's eat!" Michael and Alison chimed in. As if that were some sort of signal, they all picked up forks and knives and began to cut their steaks. After a moment's hesitation, Erik did the same.

Alison leaned over and cut their son's steak into small pieces before she cut her own. She smiled at him and he smiled back. Thank God that he's in a good mood today, otherwise this whole thing would be so much harder.

Alison and her parents made conversation, not talking about anything in particular for a while, and Erik began to relax. The steak was not French, but it was very good. He wanted to complement them on it, but he wasn't sure how. Everything seemed to be going well until Michael turned to Erik.

"So, Erik," he began, and Erik tensed up immediately, "You told me that you had an opera house in Paris. You have an interest in music, I suppose?"

"Yes. I, um, enjoy playing and composing quite a lot."

"What instruments do you play?"

Erik paused to consider. "Violin, piano, organ, and cello are my instruments of choice, but I can play others as well."

"You play the cello? I didn't know that," said Alison.

"I do not usually play it anymore. Composing for the cello is more difficult because it does not carry a loud melody line: it is usually part of an orchestra. Useful when I write pieces for an orchestra, but not for pieces that need a proper melody line."

Alison nodded.

"So you compose, then?" Sadie asked.

"Yes, I do."

"Any good?"

"Music is my life, Madame. I have spent much of my time perfecting the craft. So, yes."

"He really is, Mom. He used to play for me sometimes and it's absolutely beautiful."

"I'd like to hear it. Would you play for me, one day soon?"

Erik looked a little flustered. "Yes, of course, if you wish."

"And you don't have to call me 'Madame'. Just Sadie is fine."

"Thank you…Sadie," Erik said, feeling a little successful.

"What is your job at the opera house?" Michael asked.

Erik shifted uncomfortably. "You could say I am the…manager. I work with the people who own the deeds to the opera house and offer casting and repertoire…suggestions."

Alison ducked her head to hide her smile. Technically, it was true.

Michael narrowed his eyes a little. "I see. And is the mask part of your job?"

Erik froze like a deer in headlights. Alison's head snapped up to look at her father.
"Dad. Don't."

"We hardly know anything about him, Alison. It's our duty to get to know the man that you seem to be very attached to–"

"But it's not your duty to ask personal questions! I–"

"Why don't you let him speak for himself?"

Alison opened her mouth to reply, but Erik put a hand on her arm. "I appreciate you defending me more than I can say," he told her quietly. "I do not wish to explain, but I think it is necessary. Perhaps if I am honest with them, they will allow me to stay. I do not want to leave you, Angelique. I will do whatever it takes to keep you by my side."

She nodded and subsided.

Erik looked up and met Michael's eyes head on. His heart was pounding furiously in his chest. What he was about to do felt like the scariest thing he had ever done, but he had to go through with it. For Alison's sake.

"No, the mask is not part of my job, monsieur. I wear it out of necessity." He took a deep breath to steady himself. "I was born with a face that is… not normal. I wear a mask to keep it hidden."

Michael looked a little mortified. "My apologies, then, for bringing it up. I'll leave it alone in the future."

Erik was surprised at his willingness to drop the subject. Most people didn't do that: they just stared and asked uncomfortable questions and poked at it.

"So, anyone want more green beans?" Sadie asked, to break the awkward silence.

"Yes, I would love some," said Erik, surprising everyone, most of all himself.

The rest of the dinner went smoothly. Erik finished all his food, making Alison clap quietly for him under the table. He ate more at that dinner than he ever had in his life. As it went on, he felt himself being more and more accepted into the conversation, and he even felt free to talk about things. By the end, he was even laughing quietly at Michael's bad jokes. He felt more normal than he ever had in his life and he didn't feel scared or shy anymore.

Until at the end of dinner, Sadie stood up, pushed back her chair, and said to Michael, "We should go. The three of them have things to talk about." She gave Michael a meaningful look.

"Right," he said quickly, pushing back his own chair and picking up his plate. "We'll leave you three alone now. They went quickly to the kitchen and closed the glass door behind them.

Erik's heart picked up its pace again, remembering what he was about to do. How was he supposed to tell a two-year-old child that he was his father?

Alison unbuckled the straps that held the boy in the booster seat. She took his hand and led him over to the couch. He jumped up and sat on it. Alison pulled up two chairs in front of it. She sat on one and after a moment, Erik sat on the other one.

"Étienne," Alison began, "we have something to tell you."

A/N: I don't actually know how two-year-olds behave, so if you have any suggestions, please let me know. And please review!