The next few days went fairly slow for Christine; she helped Elizabeth with the work at home over the weekend, disappointed that she saw nothing of Erik. She had noticed his car gone for most of Saturday, but on Sunday it was back in the lot and hadn't moved for the entire day. She was nearly tempted to ask him to have supper with them, but at the last minute changed her mind. She had listened to the lovely sound of the violin briefly; she at least knew what he was doing, if not how he was feeling after they parted the other day.

What she felt for him was confusing at best; almost against her will, she was drawn to him. He was a complex man: intelligent, gifted- volatile. She knew he was someone that life had not treated very well, and having a good time didn't seem very high on his list of awesome memories. She wanted to be the one to show him a better time. She snickered. She had felt his desire for her and knew intuitively, he wanted much more from her than kisses, and was fighting it; the way he had held her in his arms told her so.

What she was left with now was a need to spend more time with him and discover where it might lead. Very carefully. To say she wasn't curious about what lay under the mask would be untrue, but for their relationship to progress, she assumed he would explain the need for it. She smiled wryly. What relationship?

Monday morning dawned rainy with a low hanging fog; the weather was dreary for the latter part of June, and Christine reasoned that shopping for her dress for the masquerade would cheer her up. So she called Meg to invite her along. The two girls walked down Chambersburg St. in the drizzle, headed for one of the two trendier dress shops in town.

"You are so lucky to be going to a ball! I'm jealous. Any idea what you're looking for?"

"Uh uh, but hopefully I'll know it when I see it."

They entered Kay's By Design and a pleasant faced woman approached them. Smiling, she offered to help Christine find the perfect dress. Christine went through all of the beautifully designed gowns and slowly the idea coalesced. She told the two women what she was looking for and the search began. They finally narrowed the choices down to three dresses and everyone was unanimous for the white satin with an over-skirt of chiffon, for Christine decided then and there, she wanted to be an angel.

She tried on the dress with the help of the sales lady, and with a grin on her face, she swept out to the showroom and twirled around for Meg. "Well? What do you think? Do I look angelic or what?"

"Eh. I'd say what."

Christine laughed. "I was hoping for angelic." She flared the skirt out and sashayed in a tight circle, looking at Meg over her shoulder. "Only good thoughts, Meggie. Pure as the driven snow." An image of her and Erik in each others arms yesterday, invaded her mind. Mmm. That won't do, girl.

"Okay, okay. Angelic- I get it. Then wipe that smug grin off your face. What are you thinking anyway? Something not rated PG, I'm bettin'."

Christine shrugged her narrow shoulders and worked for an innocent look. "Nothing much. Except I um, need a halo and wings." Oh my. And a yellow eyed devil to kiss my lips.

"Yep, with those you'll be the prettiest angel at the ball," she said laughing. "Ha. And probably the only one too. Especially if any of Philippe's old girlfriends show up. That dude goes through women as often as he changes his socks."

The gown was duly wrapped in tissue and boxed. Cringing slightly at the price of the dress, she shrugged in resignation and paid for it.

"Ah well, it's not everyday that a girl gets to go to a ball, right, Meggie?"

They left the shop and went to the Gettysburg Hotel for tea. Settling themselves in the beautiful dining room, they placed their order with the waitress, then got caught up on what they were doing for the rest of the day. Meg buttered a slice of apple bread and took a bite.

"How are things with Mr. Reauchard?"

Christine wasn't ready to share all of her feelings concerning Erik with Meg just yet; how could she? She wasn't even sure what they were.

"He's interesting. He's a musician, and a very good one too. His voice is unreal, Meg. We've talked a few times since I took him round the battlefield; he's a rarity- he actually listens to me when I talk. Unlike some people," and she looked pointedly at her friend. Meg herself had accused her at times of talking way too much.

"I dunno. You almost have a look on your face of hero worship when you mention him. Come on, Chris. What's going on? You like him more than just a little. Have you sneaked a peek behind the mask yet? Wait, ah, don't tell me- it's actually Gerard Butler under there, right?" She laughed, then noticed that Christine wasn't smiling.

"No," she said quietly. "I admire him. He's intelligent and accomplished." She paused, swallowing the last of her tea, staring out the window as the rain came down harder, the traffic moving around the town square, slowing to a snail's pace. "I like Erik," she said simply. "At first he was cold and unfriendly, but he's loosened up a lot since we took the tour of the military park." Oh boy! Is that ever an understatement! He nearly strangled Raoul, then kissed me like he never wanted to stop. All in a day's work for that guy.

Meg looked at her sheepishly. "Hey- sorry, I got carried away a little. You know how my mouth runs on when I should keep it shut. Forget what I said, 'kay?"

Christine smiled at her friend and poured herself some more Earl Grey. "Forgotten. What're your plans for later? Anything exciting?"

"I told Lillian I'd come in at six and stay over an hour after closing to stock some shelves for her." Meg stirred her tea, wrinkling her brow. "Dan called this morning and asked me out to dinner at Herr's Tavern. Finally I hear from him, and I have to say no."

"Hey, call him back, Meggie and tell him you'll go. I'll cover for you- it's the least I can do. You were a big help choosing my dress."

Meg didn't take long to accept her offer; the women finished their tea and dashed for the car in the pouring rain. Christine dropped Meg off at her house and headed home. She pulled into the driveway just as Erik was getting out of his car. He stood there waiting for her. As always, he was impeccably dressed. His hat was pulled low on his forehead, and a black overcoat hung open over his suit. The only bit of color was his white shirt and a blood red tie.

She was very happy to see him.

"Hello, Christine. Might I have a word with you?"

"Erik! Sure, but let's get out of this rain." He followed her up the sidewalk and into the foyer.

He removed his hat and ran thin fingers nervously around the brim. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I thought...if you would care to...perhaps you will join me for some music in the parlor tonight." He abruptly stopped the motions with his hat, only to begin again, waiting for her answer.

She smiled to herself, charmed by his hesitancy. He always seemed so in command of every situation, and his nervousness made him more human- a regular guy. She was very disappointed that her answer had to be no. "I would love to Erik, but I have to work tonight. I'm really sorry."

"I had hoped that perhaps you would sing for me. Another time then." He gave a brief nod of his head and made for the stairs, not even giving her a chance to reply.

She had wanted to join him. Ever since he sang yesterday, she'd thought of a duet. It would be exciting to find out how compatible they were singing together. Again, she felt the keen disappointment, and she knew that for Erik, it wasn't simply a casual no; she didn't think anything was casual where he was concerned. For the rest of the day she helped Elizabeth, cleaning one of the empty apartments and getting it ready for the next tenant. At five they finished up and headed for the kitchen to fix a light supper. The older woman cracked some eggs into a pan, while Christine set the table.

Lucy danced around their feet, generally getting in the way, until Christine took pity on the little dog and got her some supper. They sat down to their own meal and Mamma filled her in on all the gossip she'd heard from her friends lately. Christine cleaned the kitchen afterward, and grabbing the coin Erik had given her, left the house. Heading into town, she stopped at the jeweler's on Steinwehr and had the Persian coin put into a setting for a necklace. The jeweler assured her it would look marvelous and he'd have it ready for her in a few days. She quickly got out of her car in the parking lot beside the souvenir shop and headed inside, glad to be out of the miserable weather.

She had no idea she was being watched.

She dropped her purse behind the cash register and exchanged a few words with Lillian, the owner of Timeless Treasures before she left for the night. Already, quite a few people were in the store, mostly those just getting off the double decker tour bus and looking for a souvenir to take home.

Christine liked watching the river of humanity passing through the shop; she often wondered about their lives back home and what there was about Gettysburg that drew them in. For the most part, she enjoyed chatting with them, giving directions to attractions and even good restaurants and hotels.

When they asked for directions to the battlefield, the answer usually confused them. "You're standing on it," she would say. She explained patiently that much of the fighting did indeed take place in the town itself, and one of its residents had been killed on July 3rd, the last day of the epic battle. "The house where she died is just down the street from here. If you care to, you can take a tour of it," she told the eager listeners.

"Jenny Wade was baking bread in her sister's kitchen on Baltimore St., when a sniper's bullet pierced two doors, killing her instantly. She was twenty-one years old when she died, and the bread was for hungry Union soldiers." She told the tragic story simply because in her mind, it was a case of truth being stranger than fiction. Usually, their interest was engaged and they listened raptly.

"Virginia or Jennie, as she was known, was childhood friends with Wesley Culp and Jack Skelly. They grew up together, roaming the woods and fields around Gettysburg, spending a lot of their time on Wesley's uncle's farm, especially a heavily wooded area known locally as Culp's Hill. Wesley eventually moved to Virginia looking for work; Jennie and Jack fell in love and were planning on marrying, until the war interrupted their plans. Jack enlisted with the Union forces, while Wesley joined the army of his adoptive state of Virginia, a part of the new Confederacy.

"In June of 1863, Jack was badly wounded at the Battle of Winchester; Wesley found him in a hospital tent dying of his wounds and a grieving Jack gave Wesley a letter to give to his sweetheart Jennie, asking him to deliver it if Wesley ever found himself back in Gettysburg. As a matter of fact, Wesley had a date with destiny in Gettysburg, and on July 3rd he was killed in battle, falling on Culp's Hill- his uncle's farm.

"Earlier that morning unknown to Wesley, his childhood friend, Jennie was killed by a sniper's bullet. Jack, after much suffering finally died on July 12th, the last of the three friends to die in the war. None of them were ever aware of the others fates."

She was kept fairly busy until nearly closing, then business gradually fell off. When the last customer left, she put the closed sign in the door and turned off most of the lights. Christine looked out the window, noting that the rain was still falling and charcoal clouds were moving quickly across the darkening sky. She made her way upstairs and to the restocking Lillian wanted her to do that night. She worked steadily, humming along with the song in her head, thinking often of Erik and wishing she was sitting at the piano with him instead of here alone.

Around nine-thirty, she jumped when she heard a noise from the first floor.

She was busy stacking folded sweatshirts onto the lower shelves; she listened closely and thought she heard someone moving around downstairs. Lillian, she was sure, would have said something by now not wanting to scare Christine. That fact alone frightened her, for the movements from below were quiet and furtive. Still, she called out expecting Lillian to answer. When she heard no response, she realized she was in serious trouble.

Getting to her feet, she moved over to the door as soundlessly as possible. The room she'd been working in was the only one on the second floor unlocked. Lillian's office was the next door down and beyond that was the room she kept her antiques in; Lillian had a thriving antiques business aside from her souvenir shop. She kept the more expensive items in the larger of the rooms on the second floor until she could sell them.

Christine had nowhere to go.

She never stopped to wonder why she was being so cautious; most likely it was Lillian coming back for something, but the short-hairs on the back of her neck were standing up. She would probably have a good laugh with Meg over this, and possibly embarrass herself with her reaction, but better safe than sorry. Being an old house, the stairs creaked badly, so when she heard a sound from the first riser, loud as a gunshot, and no pleasant voice calling her name, it practically shouted intruder to her. Quickly she hit the wall switch, plunging the room into darkness.

Hurriedly, Christine removed one of her shoes, tossing it out the door and as far down the hallway as she could get it, where it thunked up against the wall. Her next move was to find a place to hide; she badly wanted to scream- the sounds were coming closer. Going out the window was not an option- the fall would cause serious injury, possibly even be fatal. Her pepper spray was tucked deep in her purse, doing her absolutely no good where it was-downstairs behind the counter.

Her father had insisted long ago that she carry it with her, and she did- buried in the bottom of her friggin' handbag. Gettysburg had always been so safe- till now. It was ludicrous to think that she was in danger, but no one she knew would feel the need to be so damned quiet. Quickly she felt her way to the back of the room, and as silently as possible, opened the closet door, slipping inside and reaching up to yank a wire coat-hanger loose from the rod overhead. She remembered the movie Halloween and Jamie Lee Curtis hiding from Michael Myers in a closet, and using a coat-hanger to stab him with. Life imitating art, and she snorted a laugh which sounded crazy to her overwrought nerves. Breath rasping painfully in her chest, she pulled the door shut as silently as possible, and sitting on her butt, scooted as far back in the dusty space as she could go until she came up against the back wall. Desperately she tried to disappear behind a stack of large picture frames. She straightened the end of the hanger and held it in front of her, shaking uncontrollably. She was in big trouble.

The closet wasn't large, but provided a modicum of invisibility behind the frames and discarded clothing hanging on the rack. She heard him come into the room and pause on the threshold, then begin moving closer to her hiding place. Throwing her shoe hadn't fooled him; he had tracked her movements from the bottom step. She noticed a thin beam of light shining across the floor- he had a flashlight. She felt the scream building in her throat. Oh God, she thought. Please...

She pulled her legs up, and closing her eyes, put her head down on her knees waiting, praying that he wouldn't open the door she was hiding behind. She heard the stealthy footsteps, the creaking of the old floor, and her teeth began to chatter as the doorknob slowly turned. She tensed, ready to spring up and push her way out, and maybe use the darkness to her advantage, when she heard a much louder noise and the sound of scuffling. Christine listened to someone grunting in pain and something heavy hitting the wall with force; there followed the noises of a hasty retreat down the stairs, then a brief, uneasy silence.

She heard the click of the wall switch, and saw light flooding the room from under the door. Her breathing was no more than sobbing pants by now, and when she heard footsteps coming back to her closet, the scream that was building finally broke free.

The door opened.

"Christine!" It was Erik.

He started to enter the closet, amber eyes glowing in the dim light, but she scrambled to her feet and launched herself at him, dropping her makeshift weapon and throwing her arms around his neck, hanging on for dear life. Her toes barely touching the floor, she clutched him tightly. He only hesitated a moment, before bending down and wrapping her in his arms, holding her close and murmuring soothingly. He realized she was close to becoming hysterical as tremors shook her slender frame, and she buried her face in his thin chest.

He talked softly to her in his native tongue. "Ma petite bijou. (My little jewel) Tu es mon seul." (You are my only one) "Hush now, Erik is here," he crooned. "Are you hurt, Christine? Did he touch you in any way?"

She shook her head, still holding on to him tenaciously. Christine knew she was practically strangling him, but she couldn't seem to let go just yet. Erik for his part, had no wish for her to do so. He relaxed and kissed her temple. Her shaking gradually eased, and releasing him just a little, she placed a hand on his masked cheek.

"H-How about you? Something hit the wall. Are you okay?"

"Yes."

"I...I heard him coming up the stairs. I was so...so scared. Did you see him?"

He sighed and shook his head. "No. I saw him breaking into the shop. I was parked up the street a good distance away, or I would have stopped him sooner, you may be sure of that. I was more concerned for you than his identity." "But..." He stopped and looked thoughtfully toward the stairs.

"What? Did you notice something about h-him?"

He mentally shook himself and took Christine by the elbow, steering her toward the hall.

"Erik, my shoe." She pointed down the shadowy hallway; he looked with interest at her one bare foot, but said nothing as he went and retrieved it.

Leaning against him, she slipped it back on, then straightened. "I threw it down there hoping it would keep him away from me..."

"Shh, ma belle. You are fine now," he regarded her with a mixture of relief and disapproval, "but why did you hide in the closet? You cut off your escape route." He gestured with one long finger at the wall to the right of the steps. "You could have waited there, and given him a hard shove down the stairs; a much better chance for you to get away if your assailant has a broken leg- or neck."

She let out her breath in a loud exhalation of air. "I guess I didn't think of it, Erik since I'm not in the habit of pushing people down the stairs!" She looked at him indignantly, and he was heartened to see the color back in her face. "You never answered me. Did you recognize him?"

He said nothing as he put his arm around her and they made their way to the first floor where he finally answered her. "As to your question- no, I did not. However, from now on I think working here at night should not be done alone."

"I need to call the police. It was a break-in and Lillian should probably know too, just in case he comes back."

"Yes, by all means, call them. I will wait across the street for you." One corner of his mouth lifted in a self-deprecating smile. "I would prefer to be kept out of this, if you don't mind. You need only say, Christine, that something frightened him off before he got to you, yes?"

She nodded wearily. "Sure. There's no need to drag you into it, Erik."

"Are you certain you are all right?" he asked softly.

She nodded again and took hold of his hand, "Thanks to you. You were just like the cavalry, but unlike them, you showed up just in time." She managed a smile when he looked at her and shook his head.

"I'm afraid I don't understand what that means."

She waved her hand dismissively. "Never mind. Guess you don't watch a lot of Westerns in France, but..." She stopped and looked at him when it dawned on her. "What were you doing here?"