Chapt 12

"I play the violin as well." He said with a far away, almost trance like tone. Erik looked down at his left arm, wrapped in a splint, frustration and fear creeping into him. He glanced back at Elaine, who was still staring at him.

"Will I be able to play with this hand again?" he said in a low voice. She knitted her brows with confusion, looking down at his arm. Realization spread over her countenance.

"Oh, your arm. You should be able to have full use of that hand and arm, as long as it heals well." She laughed a little. "I hope we did a good job setting it that night…we were in such a rush, because you were in such danger. How were we to know were setting the bones of a musician?" Elaine said. Erik stroked the keys delicately with his uninjured hand.

"Now it makes sense. I was really quite worried about my arm when I first had awoken, and I did not understand why. After all, I have other injuries." He let out a deep sigh, glancing back to his left hand. "I guess only time will tell." His eyes closed as he felt the music flow from his heart to his hand.

"Oh yes, music was a big part of my world, that I can feel." His heart did not forget that.

Elaine stood up and walked to the other side of the piano to listen. He did not even notice that she had left his side. The melody he was playing emanated such depth and yearning, she was completely enraptured in a few short notes. His eyes were closed and his body moved slightly with the music. He began to sing softly as he played, a deep tenor, full of texture. Elaine quickly closed the French doors to the parlor, not everyone in the house to hear. She turned to face him and could not believe her ears. The passion in the music and his voice tugged at her soul ...

"Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation,
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination,
silently the senses, abandon their defenses…

Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor
Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender…"

Erik opened his eyes and suddenly he was thrust into a different world. Staring through a haze at his hands, now over the keyboards of an organ, he blinked repeatedly as he looked up, not believing what he was seeing. Candles of all sizes were lit all around him on innumerable candelabras, and he was in a cold, damp place. His body became chilled to the bone. He was now dressed in a white shirt and a black silk robe. Then, out of the darkness and cold, he heard a voice, a clear woman's voice, singing behind him, he struggled to turn his body but could not.

Am I imagining this? What is happening to me? Who's voice is that? It is so familiar.

Elaine noticed the sudden change in Erik when he stopped playing and rushed to his side.

"Erik, what happened? What's the matter?" She said, becoming concerned, reached for his hands. His face was pale and his eyes were wide, unfocussed; it was as if he was seeing a ghost. He closed his eyes tightly and shook his head, gasping for breath.

Slowly, Erik opened his eyes again. The scene that now lay before him allowed him to catch his breath. He was in the parlor again, Elaine sitting before him, face straight with concern.

"Elaine, I am so happy to see your face." He gripped her forearms tightly, almost as if in a panic. "I-I need some air," he stammered. Erik felt as if the earth beneath him and the walls within him were breaking, threatening to let him fall.

"Come, Erik," Elaine said, as the she helped him up. Together they struggled to the door that led out from the parlor onto the veranda. As the door swung open, he inhaled the fresh air as if he had been holding his breath. It was a crystal clear, cool night. The stars were out and the moon was bright, but even with that ambient light, he could barely see.

Erik leaned over the banister as music continued to play in his head, ringing in his ears. Sensual, pain unducing music ran like a flood through his mind, his own voice mocking his discomfort. He shivered, and after a few difficult minutes the music quieted down within his head.

Elaine stood behind him, not knowing quite what to do, confused and frightened by his actions. Despite the fact that he was wearing thin clothes, she knew it was not cold enough to warrant the tremors making his body quake. She busied herself by rubbing his shoulders and his back as he shivered. Eventually, the tremors stopped and his shoulders relaxed. He turned around to face her. Beads of cold sweat were running down his face. He leaned back to sit on the banister.

"I'm a composer, Elaine. And that…that was my music." he said quietly, with a faraway gaze. Elaine gasped, quite taken aback.

"Your music, Erik? It is beautiful, really beautiful. But why does it have this affect on you?" she whispered.

His music? It touches me so.

She resisted the urge to touch his face tenderly, as passionately as his music made her feel. Instead, she wiped the sweat away from his face with her handkerchief. "Are you alright?" She said gently.

Erik's eyes were closed again as her gentle hand took the sweat from his brow. He was in a state of heightened awareness. He smelled the sweet, faint smell of flowers and her own scent as her kerchief rubbed his face. It took all that was left of his self control to not reach out to her. He let a breath escape onto her wrist as it moved past his mouth.

Her heart leaped within her chest as she felt his hot breath on her wrist.

"What happened back there?" She said, feeling an urgent need to change the subject and distract them both. He opened his adoring green eyes. She shivered in his gaze.

Nate was in his office, which was adjacent to the parlor. He had heard the soft tones of the piano, then a man's voice singing. Then it stopped abruptly. Curious, he walked from his office towards the parlor. He met Dr. Dyson in the hall.

"You heard it too?" Nate asked. Dr. Dyson nodded. They both knew the man singing must be Erik.

Together they walked into the parlor to find it empty. The door on the far side of the room was open, the wind blowing through the gossamer curtains. Both men rushed outside.

Elaine and Erik stood facing each other on the edge of the veranda, talking softly.

"I was remembering again, it comes suddenly, each time more vivid than the last. I feel each vision- like a spectator from within myself, unable to move or speak. But each time, each time I have more questions than answers…" he said, looking haggard. Erik had been answering her question.

If it continues on like this, I will surely go mad…

"Father said your memories should come back bit by bit. Or like an avalanche. I can't even imagine what it must be like." She was cut short by the two men coming out of the parlor. "Father? Nate?"

"Sorry, I hope I did not disturb you," started Erik, realizing that they must have heard the piano.

"No, please. Don't be sorry. It was nice to hear music in the house again." Dr. Dyson gave a sad little smile, being taken back to the time when the beautiful music his wife played graced these quiet halls, so long ago. "It was just unexpected is all."

"That was you then, playing and singing?" They all looked at Nate. He had a knack for stating the obvious.

"It is as you said, Doctor. My hands, well, hand, knew exactly what to do, the music just flowed effortlessly. I also experienced glimpses of the memories associated with it; vague images." He went back into his far away stare.

"You look exhausted, Erik, I think you should rest. Maybe you should not have exerted yourself so." Dr. Dyson shot a warning stare at Elaine. Elaine backed away, suddenly feeling ashamed for pushing Erik so hard. Elaine braced herself for the lecture she knew was coming. Her face flushed.

"I will help you back upstairs." Said Nate, throwing Erik's good arm over his shoulder. "So, a pianist? Sounded good to me. What else do you play? Can you play Bach…what about Mozart, I love Mozart." he said, trying to engage Erik in some light hearted banter as he brought him back into the house.

Dr. Dyson sighed and walked up to his daughter who was looking sadly at Erik limping away. Speaking to her sternly would be of no use, he surmised. She already appeared to feel guilty. Instead, he gave her a fatherly hug, holding his comments until Nate and Erik were far enough away not to hear.

"Lanie, I know you want him to get better, to remember. But we can't rush these things. He is still very weak and very fragile, mentally and physically. I think we should stop pushing him for now. It may all be too much too soon. I am as guilty as you." He turned her around and put his finger under her chin. "My darling girl. You are still doing a fabulous job with him. I am convinced that we rescued him from the jaws of death. It will take some time, but eventually, we will help him regain his life." Elaine smiled up at him. He was such a wonderful father and teacher. But a thought crossed her mind and her brows furrowed.

"Father, why do his memories return so traumatically? It is as if they are all terrible nightmares."

"Elaine, we do not know from whence he came. I can only imagine that his life has not been an easy one," he said, giving her a knowing glance. She nodded.

"I saw the scars, too." She said, shuddering at the remembered images.

"There are things in his past he probably does not want to remember. But it will all come back, the good and the bad. If it comes back too quickly, judging on how he acts when he remembers just a few details, a few moments, it could be dangerous. He could be devastated mentally." His face wrinkled with concern.

"He has been through enough already," Elaine said, hanging her head. "I will not push him again, I promise."

Safely back in his quiet room, Erik still felt uneasy. It had been hours since Nate had brought him there and helped him sit and eat. He had a strange, annoying sensation ever since he came back from the veranda. A strange, empty feeling he could not place took up residence in his chest. He played with the food on the dinner tray, his mind far away. If he could have paced in the room, he would have.

His music, those words, his words echoed in his head. He had written them down in the journal. While reading them over and over, he realized how seductive and intense they were. They spoke of a longing and a deep love.

Who was I trying to seduce? Had I succeeded? Is there someone out there waiting for me? God I need to know.

He looked at his face in the mirror. He was able to do it now, but he still felt pain in his heart upon seeing himself. In his mind, he pictured himself differently. Maybe it was because of the blind acceptance that the Dyson's had for him. They did not stare or make faces, or do anything at all to make him feel anything but normal.

But I am not normal, that I know. Within and without. Somehow, I doubt anyone waits for me.

He struggled to stifle the self pity that was creeping into his mind. That, he knew, would be useless. He rubbed at his tired eyes and then let his hand drift down across his scarred face, feeling the roughness, how unreal and inhuman it felt.

I am an alien in my own skin. A stranger in my own head...

Slowly, he hobbled over to the bed and fell in, wincing with pain as he moved into a comfortable position under the covers. His mind was filled with unpleasant thoughts.

Damn, when will these bones heal? I hurt with every single bloody movement. At least they remind me I'm alive. Why do I bother to sleep? I will just be tortured by whatever it is. The demon de jour, I guess.

Physical exhaustion won over mental disquiet and Erik drifted off into a fitful sleep.