Ok, so you reacted about the way I expected. :) So many capital letters! In thanks for all the reviews, here is a short but quickly-delivered chapter that I hope you'll enjoy. I'm off on a trip, so it'll be another week or so before the next update.
Chapter 32
"I can't."
How she forced those two words out, she didn't know. She managed to squeeze them out past her constricting throat before her tears flowed freely.
Erik was still on his knees, the ring clasped between his hands and raised toward her, a frozen statue on the floor. If possible, his eyes widened further, the only sign that he had heard her.
With both hands, she swiped at her face, then made herself meet his scrutiny. Whatever his reaction, she had to take it head-on.
"I can't, Erik," she said, this time no longer so steady. "Not without my mom, not while we are in hiding like this. How could I do that to her?"
He spoke, breathless, the words coming out more like a wheeze. "Not safe."
"I know it's not safe for her or for us." She brushed away more tears, angry at herself for being so weak, for having to do this to him. "But… maybe later? Would we get married now or wait until later, when my mother can be here?"
"Now," he whispered. "I thought – I thought – now."
She spread her hands out, fanning her fingers, not bothering with her tears anymore. "But if we waited, if we could wait, later we could-"
He cut her off, unmasked face twisted with sudden fury. "We will never be free of them, Christine!"
"But-but months from now, maybe a year-"
"A year, two years, it would make no difference. I told you this before – they will never stop hunting me. It will never be safe for us to rejoin the rest of the world in any normal way. Your mother can never-"
She took another step back. "You can't say that. You can't say never."
"It is the truth!"
"I can't go the rest of my life without her, Erik. She's the only family I have left!" More tears, the drops scattering across the bodice of her dress.
One of his hands left the ring box and audibly slapped against his chest. "I will be your family!" he howled, his voice echoing in the large chamber.
She couldn't stand to see him anymore, before her on his knees, the ring a shining beacon in the candlelight. She pressed both of her hands against her face and wept. "I can't," she sobbed, words muffled against her wet palms. "I can't."
She heard the pop of the small box snapping shut. She expected him to flee, if not to the piano to start pounding away his anger then to the basement where he could be rid of her.
Instead, she heard him inch across the floor toward her, felt his fingers clasp the hem of her gown. Slowly, the fabric pulled around her legs as he gathered it to his face. She blindly reached down with one hand to touch his shoulder and beneath her contact, the long line of black shuddered. Although her tears still flowed, she quieted her own sobs and listened to his ragged breaths, and she knew her dress would be damp with evidence of his own agony.
She was grateful that he had stayed, grateful that they were both strong enough to remain with each other while standing on this precipice. If they had become this resilient, maybe she could hold onto her hope.
And she knew then what she would have to do.
Finally, she was able to coax him off the floor. He let her wrap her arms around him in a hug, but he didn't move from his spot in the middle of the room or speak to her again. Selfishly, she couldn't stand to look at him anymore, to see that dullness in his eyes or the blankness of his expression, so she told him goodnight and fled upstairs.
They slept apart that night. She heard no sounds from downstairs, not even music from the piano or violin. The eerie silence haunted her all night, and she slept fitfully.
When she woke early the next morning, she heard nothing then either. For a moment, she thought perhaps he had left the house, but when she peeked outside the door, she smelled coffee. She showered and dressed quickly, choosing the comfortable clothes she knew she would need for today.
Even though they had only spent the one night apart, she missed him terribly. They hadn't been separated since those last couple of days traveling to arrive here, the time between when Erik had reentered the crate on the cruise ship and when they had reached a safe hotel for him to emerge. As she headed downstairs now, she didn't see him. He wasn't in the kitchen even though fresh coffee was ready, clearly made for her. The door to the music room was closed, and she guessed he might be in there even though she heard no noises within.
She tried the basement door and found it unlocked. As she opened it, she called softly to him and heard no response. Flicking the light on, she saw as she headed down the narrow stairs that the small space was also empty.
So much the better for her right now because she needed to use the phone. She dialed Nadir's number, relieved that he picked up despite the early hour for him. She spoke quickly, relaying what had happened.
"Ah, no, Erik," Nadir sighed heavily. "Always wanting to rush headlong into things."
"It's not his fault," she snapped, her anger sudden and almost taking her aback. "He didn't do anything he shouldn't have."
"Then why...?" Nadir left his question unfinished. Why hadn't she said yes? Did she want to marry the man or not? But the answer wasn't a simple one, and whether or not she wanted to marry Erik didn't factor into her decision.
She was tired, so tired of having to explain this. She did anyway and listened as he began to understand.
"Nadir, I need your help."
"He will never forgive me for this." He was right, but she was done caring about the push-pull between the two men.
"Luckily, you are a country away," she said.
He snorted. "With you gone, likely not for long."
She gripped the phone hard. "Are you going to help or not?"
"Of course I will help," he replied, sounding kinder this time. "Tell me what you want me to do."
She did. They spoke only a little while long, the awkward palpable over the line. She promised to call again in a few days once she was settled, especially to give him her new number.
When she hung up the phone, she headed back upstairs at a slow pace. She didn't have much time – the drive would take at least two hours – so she went to the bedroom to pack her belongings.
She left the deep red gown on the bed, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu. Again, they had experienced a wonderful night together. Again, it had all fallen apart at the end. But did Erik really expect her to marry him without her mom present? How could he demand that of her? Scowling, she stuffed her clothes into her suitcase, leaving anything that wouldn't fit.
Once her suitcase was packed, she shouldered her purse, into which she had tucked the book about opera that she had stolen from Erik all those months ago. Then she made her way to the music room.
She didn't bother knocking. She opened the door, and there was Erik, sitting at the piano. He still wore his tuxedo from last night, and he hadn't put his mask back on. The small table was still laden with her birthday dinner, the food long gone cold. The piano's lid was still closed, and his hands rested on his thighs. Had he been sitting there all night, just sitting?
Tears flared hotly within her eyes again, but she blinked them away. She needed to do this without falling apart.
She imagined that she had the courage to sing him one last song, the song that they had been working on for the past week as she practiced her Italian. She would stand there while he watched, or maybe he would join her on violin, and she would sing "Time to Say Goodbye" with all her internal strength, with all the talent he had helped her uncover.
When I'm alone
I dream on the horizon
and words fail;
yes, I know there is no light
in a room where the sun is absent,
if you are not with me, with me.
At the windows
show everyone my heart
which you set alight;
enclose within me
the light you
encountered on the street.
Time to say goodbye
to countries I never
saw and shared with you,
now, yes, I shall experience them.
I'll go with you
on ships across seas
which, I know,
no, no, exist no longer.
It's time to say goodbye.
And he would step in when he should and sing Bocelli's part, his angel's voice rising strong and clear.
When you are far away
I dream on the horizon
And words fail,
and, Yes, I know
that you are with me;
you, my moon, are here with me,
my sun, you are here with me,
with me, with me, with me.
And finally, their voices would entwine together, and they would finish their song, the last note ringing in their ears. A last moment for both of them to hold close.
Instead, she placed her suitcase and bag on the floor nearby and stood there in silence. She feared he would treat her the same way he had the first time she had left his home, when he had discovered her sickness and forced her out. That time, he had played wrathfully at the piano, not paying any attention to her even as Nadir ushered her across the underground lake. It had taken her a long time to get over that betrayal, and she couldn't stomach another repeat.
After several long minutes had passed, Erik turned his head to look at her. He glanced at her belongings, then turned back to stare at the piano.
"You are leaving."
"Yes," she said, relieved he would speak to her. "A taxi is coming to take me to the airport in Zurich."
"Where will you go from there?"
She swallowed past the lump forming in her throat. "I thought about going back to Boston, but I worry that you'll try to follow me." She couldn't do that to him, couldn't force him to spent another eight or nine days in a shipping container. "So I decided that I'm going to travel instead. My father used to tell me that Sweden was lovely in the fall, so I'm going there first."
Silence for a while. Erik took slow, steady, deliberate breaths. "Will you… will you come back?"
"I don't know." And that was as close to the truth as she could possibly get. "Erik-"
"Just go." He lifted a lithe hand, pushed it at her as though trying to ward her off. He turned his face away from her.
"Please," was all she could say. She crossed the room to his side, wanting to touch him but not without his permission. "Please."
Without looking at her, his arm lashed out and caught her about the waist, and she was tugged into his strong embrace, his arms hard with tension, his body vibrating with emotion. The moment ended all too quickly as he then shoved her back, spinning away from her on the bench.
"Leave me!"
She stumbled back to her suitcase, grabbing onto the handle with a jerky movement. "I-I love you," she told him.
She straightened, forced herself to say the words.
"Goodbye, Erik."
She walked out the front door and waited on the porch steps, listening to the snuffling of the horses, the buzzing of the meadow stretched out before her, the rustling of the trees as a cool breeze blew. No music came from the house.
Her taxi arrived a half hour later.
The drive to the airport happened in silence. She stared at the countryside speeding by, a bit taken aback at the difference as they arrived in Zurich, the busy city a shock to the system after living in a tiny medieval town for so long.
She tipped the driver and lugged her suitcase into the airport. After checking in and finding her gate, she set to work on purchasing a cheap cell phone and an international European Union SIM card for it, using the prepaid cash card she still carried.
She settled into a corner of the airport near her gate, staring at the cell phone's screen as she typed in the number she wanted to call. Heart pounding, she listened to the phone ring once, twice, three times before a woman's voice picked up – an answering machine, the message one Christine knew well.
She hung up and dialed again, listening to the ringing tones speed by once more. This time, she didn't have to wait until the answering machine picked up.
"Hello?"
She smiled through her sudden tears. "Hi, Mama. It's Christine."
If you have never heard Andrea Bocelli's "Time to Say Goodbye," it's perfect and just what I needed here. You can find it on YouTube. He originally sang it with our own Sarah Brightman. :)