A/N: Psst, I've done a double-upload, so if you haven't read Ch. 19— Cold Comfort, this is me giving you a little whisper in your ear urging you to do so now.
Also, I will be catching up on replying to reviews this week. Thank you, my kind and patient reviewers!
Enjoy!
PFP
.
.
.
Ch. 20— She's a Diamond
.
.
.
"Ms. Daae, the song is in three-quarter time and needs to be sung joyfully, with merriment." Erik watched his beautiful Diva shift her feet as she stood by the piano in his music room, her honey-golden curls agleam in the sunlight. She shook her head, and smiled sadly.
Erik eagerly drank in the sight of his little mouse: inquisitive hazel eyes looked down at the music she held, her honey-golden curls were bound in a bun at her nape with a few tendrils escaping, her clothes hung shapeless, colorless on her frame. But her unusual beauty was there for any man to see if he stopped to take a look, to examine that which was hidden by the girl's shapeless clothing and shy, reserved nature.
Kissably full and soft lips, wide-set hazel eyes that were gentle and alluring… that was if she ever bothered to lift them from the floor. A heart-shaped face with a pointed chin, and high, distinct cheekbones that would look lovely when she smiled… if she smiled.
She shook her head and said softly, "I'm singing it the best I know how, sir."
"Hmm, yes. That's just the problem, isn't it?" Erik smiled sadly and rose from the bench. He walked over to her, cradling her dear, familiar cheek in his palm. "You don't know much in the way of joy, haven't experienced much merriment in your life, have you, my girl?"
Gently, he tilted her chin up to him, and her eyes hesitantly met his before shying away. "Allow me to show you a taste, hmm?" He leaned down and was moments away from kissing her when she looked up at him, pain and accusation in her eyes.
"Why did you let me die, sir? Why?"
And as he watched, her body—her dear, precious form began evaporating away, slipping from his fingers. She continued to stare at him, her eyes accusing— condemning him—until she was gone. And he was alone again with the thoughts of guilt and despair as his dread companions.
His surroundings morphed and shifted, and quite suddenly, he was standing on the shore near the house by the lake.
There were bodies everywhere!
Erik looked at the bloated, decaying corpses floating; some face up, others down in the lake.
This couldn't be happening! This hadn't happened! It was everyday dreaded, but this had never occurred! Had it?
HAD IT?!
How had the Nazis found and slaughtered them? How could they have known?! His charges were alive and safe when he'd last seen them; he'd hid them so well, no one knew! No one could know.
How?!
As he watched, a child—Antoinette's Marguerite—drifted into view, her dark brown hair floating wild in the current and her gypsy-blue eyes forever looking skyward, her blue little lips frozen in the rictus grin of death.
CHRIST, NO! he cried, falling to his knees by the lake as their corpses drifted past: a macabre parade solely for his benefit. Poligny, little Jammes…. he didn't want to see it! Dear God! He didn't want to see!
"M-mr. D'Anton…?"
Erik's eyes shot open with a snap, but he could see nothing in the darkness.
"Mr. D'Anton, sir?"
Erik registered his Christine nestled against him, certain in the knowledge he was still dreaming. "Have I killed you too?"
"K-killed me? N-no, sir. I'm right here beside you."
He shook his head. "You can't be real. You can't!"
Erik felt a hand tentatively touch his shoulder. "I assure you, I am, sir."
He shook his head again. "But how do I know?"
He rolled them until she was beneath him, his hand groping, reaching for her dear, sweet face. "How do I know you are real?" Gently, he lowered himself until his lips were millimeters from her own. "Prove to me you're real, angel. Make me believe."
And Erik kissed her.
.
.
.
He was kissing her.
Mr. D'Anton was kissing her!
Christine's eyes closed as she surrendered to the sensation, feeling light-headed and all-atremble. Was he still dreaming? Did he know it was her he held?
His lips moved against her with frantic need, and Christine brought her arms up to clutch his shoulders. She didn't know what to do, how to respond. She had never been kissed before; she didn't know what to do!
Tentatively, Christine pressed her lips back against his.
She heard him groan softly, and then his hand moved to cradle the back of her head as he increased the pressure of the kiss. He mumbled against her lips, "Open for me, my dear. Let me taste you, sweet girl."
.
.
.
That's it. Oh, that's it, my girl. Erik thought as his angel began to respond.
Moving his hand to cup her nape, he deepened the kiss, just brushing his tongue along the moist entrance of her mouth. Her hands tightened at his shoulders, and his eyes shot open as he realized he was really kissing her!
He was really kissing his Christine! Oh sweet mercy, their kiss hadn't been a dream! And she was responding to him!
He brushed his tongue once more just inside her open mouth, sampling her, before breaking away only slightly and moving to the corner of her lips. His lips lingered there as he mumbled against her, "Good morning, my dear."
He could feel her trembling underneath him and could hear her breathing hitch. "G-good morning," was her shy response.
Erik smiled and kissed her again. "How did you sleep?"
He moved his mouth away from hers and brought his hand around to her face, tentatively touching her feature by feature revising his mental map of her as she closed her eyes and nuzzled into his palm.
"A-as well as you c-commanded, sir." Though she stuttered from nerves, there was a wry note in her voice, and Erik smiled.
She was feisty this morning.
"You would have frozen in your bed had I not. Besides, Christine, I find waking up this way here with you to be infinitely superior to any other I've ever known."
He heard her gasp, and he took advantage of it to kiss her again, this time showing her a little more of his passion, his longing for her.
He ran his tongue along the seam of her lips requesting entry, and hesitantly, she again opened for him. Oh, his shy little flower! She had never been kissed before he would bet, and gently, he caressed his tongue with hers, savoring her response when she hesitantly met him and flicked her tongue shyly against his.
Erik kissed her fully then, tenderly penetrating her mouth with his, claiming her, coaxing her to play along, to glory in the bond that was theirs.
.
.
.
"Ahem."
Distantly, Erik registered the sound of a throat clearing inside the little cottage. He broke the kiss and put his forehead next to hers, his breathing ragged.
"Just so you know, I did knock first," Nadir spoke from the hallway.
Christine jumped below him, and Erik felt her cringe, but he gentled her with the backs of his fingertips across her cheek. "Easy." he whispered, "Steady on, my girl." He stole another quick kiss and then rose from the sofa hopefully blocking Ms. Daae from view. "Khan," he called out affably. "And what brings you here at such a fortuitous time as this?"
"You were to expect me on Christmas Eve for the afternoon." Erik could hear the old man drawing nearer, and Ms. Daae's frantic movements to disentangle herself from the blankets and flee. "Honestly, I told that man of yours, Andre, weeks ago; did he not deliver the message?"
"The message was not delivered," Erik replied tightly, grabbing hold of the blankets and stopping her progress before she could leave the room. "Nadir, if you could give us a moment?"
"Where would you prefer my tired, old bones wait, hmm? The kitchen perhaps?"
"No. Not the kitchen," Erik replied wryly. She would need to walk through there to get to her room and encountering Nadir in her nightclothes and robe would make her feel more ashamed.
"Out on the frozen stoop, then?" his godfather asked, and Erik could hear the wry smile in his voice, "Or perhaps in the taxi that just drove away?"
"That would be the perfect place, yes." Erik dead-panned, putting his hand out and reaching, grasped her shoulder.
"N-no!" he heard Ms. Daae say as she rose to stand beside him. "I—I'll j-just… oh!" That forlorn little sound was his undoing.
"Nadir."
"Alright, Erik. I'm going, I'm going." Erik heard the front door open and felt the brace of the icy wind. It was still just as cold this morning… well, early afternoon… as it had been late last night. "I'll be outside," said Nadir, "Don't keep an old man waiting too long," he continued, muttering softly under his breath, "It may be hot as August in here for the two of you, but it's biting cold for me."
Erik heard every word though he doubted Ms. Daae could say the same.
The door closed gently behind him.
Feeling her try to pull away the instant the door was closed, Erik said, "No, no. We'll have none of that." He turned towards her and reaching for her face, felt her cheeks. They were scalding hot.
She ducked her head away from him. "Oh, b-but—what he must th-think! Dr. K-khan only just arrived! And you and I… we w-were—"
"Hush." Erik put his fingers to her lips compelling her to silence. "It's alright, my dear." Drawing her into his arms, he could feel her trembling: his frightened, aroused, and mortified little mouse. "Trust me when I say Nadir has witnessed more surprising things than this in his long life, and you have done nothing for which you should feel ashamed, Christine. Do you understand?"
She relaxed somewhat in his hold, placing her head against his chest, and he felt her nod. "Good girl," he muttered as he tilted up her chin gently kissed her lips before he said, "Now, go get changed."
Erik heard her shuffling in the blankets as she began to quit the room. Before she made it to the hall, he couldn't resist adding, "Oh, and little mouse," he heard the blankets rustle as she turned to face him, "I expect to pick up right where we left off later on tonight."
He heard her surprised gasp, and then she was franticly scurrying away.
.
.
.
Both he and Nadir could hear Ms. Daae in the kitchen preparing a meal.
Nadir had come for the afternoon and was leaving on the train that evening. It seemed the station was running a dual service to cater to the high demand of travelers before they shut down in preparation for tomorrow's holiday; a holiday that had wholly slipped Erik's mind.
He smiled thinly as Nadir completed his examination of him, and he heard the click of the pen-light as it was turned off.
Erik still, of course, had not seen a single glimmer of light. "Well, your scars look remarkably much improved. I'm glad you're letting Ms. Daae care for them. How's the foot?" Using Erik's knee for a prop, the old physician stooped low, and Erik felt his gnarled, old hands reach out for his mangled foot and begin to unlace his shoe.
He disregarded his question and instead demanded, "Tell me everything you can remember about Ms. Daae's father, Nadir. How did he treat her? How did she act towards him?"
"Ah, now that's the way the wind blows, is it?" The old man teased affectionately.
"Just answer the question, old man."
"Well, he was in lots of pain towards the end, Allah bless his soul, but still… … you really need to be doing exercises to gain mobility back in these muscles, Erik. Your range of motion could improve drastically if you'd only just—"
"And her, how did he treat her, Khan?" Erik interrupted through clenched teeth as Nadir twisted and turned his bad foot every which way. Finally yanking it from the physician's grasp and groping the floor for his loafer, Erik put it on, removing the temptation of torture his foot presented from the good doctor's view.
Hearing Nadir sigh, Erik reached out his hand and putting it under the elderly physician's elbow, assisted him in rising, his old bones creaking in protest. There was the groan of the straight-back chair, and then Nadir said, "Augustine Daae was a hard man; the nursing staff and the other physicians responsible for his care could attest to that. There was no obvious paternal love to be found for his daughter—well, none that I could see at any rate. Although the girl certainly tried to be there for him as much as could be. She was, in fact, good as gold to her father right up until the very end.
"Did he just not care for her?" Erik asked.
"Worse than, I imagine. He was always apologizing for her, embarrassing her in some respect, pointing out her flaws, her ineptitude. He did this constantly, even with members of the medical staff present. It got to where Nurse Tomlin began assigning the girl unnecessary chores around the hospital just so she wouldn't have to be present with her father, suffering his abuse."
Erik absorbed this information. "And how was he when she left his room?"
"Oh, right as rain, but for the agony he suffered. You see, the type of tumor he had was slow-growing. It took years for the man to die. Years. And although this cannot be proven, it's my belief that he somehow blamed his daughter in a way for what happened to him—focused his anger on her—and that kind of pain, that kind of disease can mess with a person's mind, influence thoughts."
So what had been a normal, if strict and critical, upbringing became something else entirely when her father fell ill, Erik thought, and she had put up with it alone for years. Making certain Ms. Daae was still bustling about in the kitchen out of earshot, Erik asked quietly, "And Ms. Daae… how did she take to her father's passing?"
He heard the chair creak in protest as Nadir changed position drawing closer. "She was a bit lost if I remember correctly." He cleared his throat and muttered sotto voce, "Most victims of abuse, even if only verbal in her case, are like that when their abusers have abandoned them. Tomlin brought her on full-time after her father died and made certain she had a place close by the hospital to stay. But truthfully, I don't recall noticing her much thereafter. Three weeks later, Paris was liberated, and you were brought to us laid out on a stretcher, my boy."
He absorbed what Nadir had said, but also what he hadn't.
Erik asked, "Did her father ever mention anything about her and music to you?"
He could hear the exacerbation when Nadir tsk'd in reply.
"I wouldn't be asking if it wasn't important, Khan. She was hurt by the bastard, and I need to know everything I can in order to fix it."
Erik heard him sigh. "I'm an old man, Erik, and it's been months since that happened, but… now that you mention it, yes, he did. It was probably about a week before he died, and all he wanted was for his daughter to sing to him. He begged anyone who would listen to go fetch his daughter so she would sing."
"And did she?" Erik pressed.
Nadir's tone was grave when he replied, "To my knowledge, no. She never did."
.
.
.
Get a hold of yourself, Christine! she told herself again. Her hands were still shaking; she was yet trembling from their kiss. Her first kiss, and to be found out by Dr. Khan of all people! Oh, what he must think of her!
She buried her face in her hands, tempted to cry! Remember what Mr. D'Anton said! Oh, remember what he said: 'you have done nothing for which you should feel ashamed'. But he hadn't seen the doctor's look of shocked surprise!
And Dr. Khan had entrusted her to be Mr. D'Anton's nurse, and his housekeeper at the cottage.
How on Earth could she face either of them again? How?!
She straightened and looked over at the tea service. It held sandwiches and the ginger-spice cookies she had baked yesterday, and of which Mr. D'Anton was so fond.
She needed to go in there, but she honestly didn't think she could.
"Ms. Daae, I was wondering, could I have a moment of your time?"
Christine jumped and looked at the doorway to the kitchen. "Oh, Dr. K-khan. Yes, sir. I—I'll be there in a moment with t-tea."
"No, dear. I meant alone. Here's fine. Please, have a seat." He gestured to the kitchen table, and Christine's blush deepened. How could she have forgotten this was originally his house—his cottage?!
He poured her a cup of tea and sat it as well as a ginger spice cookie on a plate before her. He looked at the mismatched mugs that she, per necessity, had to use and then over at the few remaining dishes exposed in the cabinet rack and gave a wry smile. "My wife Sadie is going to be livid when she discovers Erik broke her grandmother's wedding china."
Christine opened her mouth to apologize, but he held up a restraining hand, and said, "Eat your cookie and drink your tea, Ms. Daae." His blue eyes twinkled. "Doctor's orders."
She nodded and took a sip of tea, but she had absolutely no appetite. Her stomach was roiling with tension.
"Do not worry about Erik overhearing us, my dear," Dr. Khan spoke. "I assure you he is quite absorbed in his room at present." Christine looked up at him curious, and he gave her an impish smile. "I offered to check his prostate." She blushed again and lowered her eyes. "Needless to say, the boy's staying as far away from me as can be at the moment."
Dr. Khan busied himself with making himself a plate and pouring his own tea and said at length, "You know, mademoiselle, this cottage has a bit of a romantic history with lovers."
Christine pursed her lips wishing she could bury herself from the mortification, the shame she felt. "I am so sorry, sir!" she said to her plate.
She felt his hand on hers, parchment-paper thin that was warm and comforting on her cold, clenched fist. And Christine forced herself to relax, to recall Mr. D'Anton's words of assurance and calm down. "Hush now," said the doctor, "there's nothing to apologize for, young woman! Why, nothing at all. As I was saying, this cottage has a history."
Christine slowly looked up and focused on Dr. Khan's words. He nodded encouragingly to her, and patting her hand, picked up his tea once more and took a sip.
He continued, "My wife and I met here almost fifty-nine years ago. But even before that, the Enchanted Cottage or EC for short, had a reputation for bringing lovers together. There is, in fact, a registry around here someplace… if it wasn't destroyed by the angry bear in his fit. It tells of all the couples that have come and gone from the EC and how they got together. And in my experience, what the Enchanted Cottage brings together, let no man tear asunder." He smiled wryly at her and bit into a cookie, his gaze taking on a reflective air.
"My wife and I had a whirl-wind romance you see? She was eight and a half, and I was nine, and this is where our parents chose to stay for the summer. She in this cottage and me in the house across the way." He pointed to a strand of overgrowth abutting the white picket fence to the side of the little cottage. And Christine could just make it out if she squinted. "That house has long since been demolished but this cottage has remained." He smiled affectionately.
"My Sadie and I, and our children and their spouses, have had many happy memories here; many happy summers spent under its eaves." He smiled but then his smile tinged with sadness, "And you and my godson have come up here to the EC in winter; something I must say I've never done until now. And I know of my godson's reasons for coming here, possibly better than he does himself. And I know of yours for I hired you." Again, his eyes twinkled at her. "This cottage heals, Ms. Daae, and that is why I granted his request. This cottage has a magic all its own, but you, I think my dear, have quite worked some magic on my godson as well if I'm not mistaken."
Again Christine had to duck her head, wanting to shake it in refusal of his praise. "I have done nothing, sir, except that which Mr. D'Anton could not do for himself."
"Hmm, I don't think that's the whole of it, mademoiselle. Not at all. But I shall let it rest for now. As I was saying, you have done a wonderful job caring for my godson, and I am thrilled with his progress! Is there anything you need or a specific request perhaps? I will do my utmost to see it fulfilled."
Christine shook her head, embarrassed by his offer. She had just been doing her job after all. "No, there's nothing I need at present, thank you sir."
However, she suddenly remembered what she had wanted to ask him seemingly so long ago but was hesitant to voice it with Mr. D'Anton so close in proximity. After all, he still did not know she was his nurse.
The doctor must have seen the question in her eyes though for he said, "Yes, my dear? You have only to ask it."
"On Mr. D'Anton's case notes," Christine looked around and then lowered her voice to a whisper, "there was a note concerning his blindness that left me perplexed. I tried looking it up in the dictionary and encyclopedia here, but I couldn't find it."
"And the note read?" Dr. Khan encouraged.
"Could be psychosomatic. What does that mean, sir?"
"Ah, that." He sat back in his chair, and looked up at the ceiling, putting his hands together and steepling his fingers. "Well, in terms of definition, the root word 'psycho' means 'mind' and 'soma' means 'body'. The 'tic' means 'as pertains to'. So, the literal definition of the word in Latin means, 'as pertains to mind over body'.
"In all honesty, Ms. Daae, my godson should see just fine. Nothing whatsoever is wrong with his eyesight. His pupils respond well to light. And physiologically, I've tested his cortical processes, and they are sound. Though the flash of the mortar shell may have induced 'flash blindness', that should have resolved itself in a matter of weeks, a couple months at most. It has been almost six months to the day since the incident, and my godson reports he still cannot see. Can you tell me, Ms. Daae, does he seem overly concerned or bothered by his condition?"
"Errm, well," Christine bit her lip, "Actually, I found myself surprised by how well he's adapted to it, sir. So, are you meaning to say that he isn't truly blind?"
The doctor nodded and smiled again his sad smile. "Not truly, no. But he believes he is. The mind is a curious thing, Ms. Daae, and it has certain mechanisms—defense mechanisms they're called—that are triggered after trauma is experienced. Erik has seen and been through much these last four years. Much that would have cowed a weaker man. His mind, in defense, has convinced his body he is blind in order to cope. What do you know about his position in the war?"
Christine shook her head, "Not much really. He was a lieutenant in the French Military, fighting in the Resistance, so the other hospital staff had said." Christine blushed and looked away; concerned the doctor would think badly of her for listening to hospital gossip.
He replied, "That, while true, is not precisely the whole of it. He was given the honorary title of 'lieutenant' when the Allies stormed France and began their fight to liberate Paris. But before that, Ms. Daae, he was… such a wee thing in his pinafore, bowtie, and jumper, pleased as punch to be having his picture taken for the very first time in his grown up clothes."
Christine looked at Dr. Khan curiously, jarred by the abrupt change in his manner and the topic at hand.
"But you must know, Ms. Daae, the young boy had a positive fascination with frogs. And, unfortunately, that morning, it had rained torrents. Well, wouldn't you believe it, but that little scamp went ajumpin' from puddle to puddle, chasing frogs and bedecking his 'Sunday Best' in seven kinds of filth. His poor mother was beside herself with shame! And there we all were gathered to take the family portrait."
Her eyes widened as she cottoned on. Mr. D'Anton was now in earshot of them. Christine smiled and nodded to Dr. Khan that she understood.
Dr. Khan nodded back. "I have it at home, my dear, if you'd care to see it sometime. All of us in our finest attire with our sober-sides smiles, as was custom in the day, and Erik looking the perfect little urchin smiling triumphantly and holding up his frog!"
Christine laughed as Dr. Khan had intended her to. Oh, but she could just see a young Mr. D'Anton doing exactly as Dr. Khan had said.
"Telling tales out of school, Nadir?"
Christine looked over to see Mr. D'Anton leaning with his back against the kitchen doorway, his arms crossed against his chest and his legs crossed below the knee. He casually moved and began walking towards them, confident in his stride, though his eyes remained unfocused, staring blankly at the far wall ahead of him. "Don't believe a word of what he says, my dear. I assure you, I was at all times a well-behaved little gentleman."
Dr. Khan snorted pointedly at this, but Mr. D'Anton continued, gesturing proudly at his chest, "My mother raised me right." He sat down at the table, and Christine fixed him a plate of sandwiches and poured him some tea.
"So which of the children is Sadie with this year, Nadir?"
Christine looked again at Dr. Khan curiously, and he explained, "My children live all over the globe, Ms. Daae. It has been our tradition—my wife and mine—up until the last two years due to the war, to visit one of them and their families at Christmas and inflict ourselves upon them. This year, with the Liberation of Paris, and the birth of Darius's firstborn, my wife decided a visit to Lascaux was in order, and so, that is where she is at present. And I will be joining her there tonight."
"And how is Darius faring as a father?" Mr. D'Anton asked before taking a huge bite of his sandwich.
Christine saw Dr. Khan roll his eyes at his godson's less than graceful display of table manners, but she could only smile for it was so good to see his appetite returned.
"According to Darius and my wife, the child is an absolute prodigy! Barely two months old and already smiling and cooing up a storm. Born premature at that! Now, I will admit that is quite the feat for a premie." She could see the paternal pride in his eyes as Dr. Khan spoke of his newest grandchild. "Oh, but little Reza does have a smile to light up the room though! Wait a moment, Ms. Daae, I have a picture in my wallet I could show you."
Dr. Khan fetched the photograph, and passed it to her. Christine made a noise of assent, looking briefly down at the black and white picture of the truly darling child and making the appropriate noises. But her concentration remained centered on Mr. D'Anton.
When Dr. Khan had reached over the table past him to show her the picture, for just a moment—an instant—Mr. D'Anton's eyes had looked down and focused on the photograph as it passed him by.
Could what Dr. Khan said about Mr. D'Anton's blindness be true?
Was it something that was as the meaning of that word 'psychosomatic' inferred, something his head was doing to his body… tricking him into thinking that he was blind when all the time, he could see…?
Oh, she hoped so! She dearly hoped so!
.
.
.
"I trust you know what you're about, Erik. She is not one of your lady-bird chorus girls or your light-o'-loves. And don't even get me started on that viper you were engaged to…"
"Khan," Erik warned him.
The two of them were seated once more in the living room, a warm fire crackling in the woodstove as Ms. Daae cleaned up the kitchen after their 'meal'. But Erik was sure she was giving them time for a visit.
She was a good woman, a gracious woman.
Nadir continued to speak, much to Erik's displeasure, "Well, my boy, it's true. Neither I nor Sadie could understand what you saw in that woman. I mean she may have had a comely face and a pleasing figure, but her voice could claw slate. And don't even get me started on that attitude of hers."
Erik's jaw tightened preparing to set the old man on his ear, but Nadir was already plowing ahead, "Ah, but I wanted this to be a good visit!" He patted Erik on the knee. "And it seems that you are in fine spirits as well as better-than-predicted health. Love will do that for a man, so they say," Nadir trailed off, and it was obvious to Erik he was fishing for a response.
Erik didn't disappoint. "Love?" he scoffed, "Don't talk of such things to me, Khan."
For the first time that day, his godfather's voice took on a faintly disapproving air, "Well, if you don't love her, then what are your plans for her? I didn't send her up here to you, boy, so you could use her and abuse her."
"Khan!" Erik again warned.
"It's true, Erik! I've watched you over the years. You've went through your fair share of women, and all of them mad over you—utterly mad! But never once did you let one turn your head. Not even the viper." He put his hand on Erik's shoulder and squeezed, "However much you may have claimed to care for one another, anyone who has ever been in love could see the two of you were no love match."
Erik said tightly, reigning in as much of his anger as he could, "I intend to marry Ms. Daae, Nadir."
"What was that? I'm an old man, Erik, and I'm afraid I don't quite hear as well as I used to."
"You heard every single word, old man," Erik hissed. "Now, quiet. You know from talking with her that she is a timid, frightened little thing, and I don't want her to know. Not yet, at least."
"But wouldn't the knowledge help assure her of the sincerity of your suit?"
"No. The knowledge might frighten her away, Nadir. She's been here less than two months, and already she's come to mean so much to me. I need more time with her to get her accustomed to the idea before I ask her to make this a more… permanent arrangement."
"And by arrangement, you mean marriage to the girl. Oh, Erik! Oh my boy, I am thrilled! Positively thrilled! I cannot wait to tell the news to Sadie! She is going to be so happy to hear this, Erik! So very happy!"
.
.
.
"What do you say, my dear, to giving Nadir one song to send him on his way, hmm? A preview of the new opera I'm composing before his taxi arrives."
Christine looked up from her position seated by the woodstove in the wingback chair to the two men seated on the sofa. The both of them had been talking about old times and catching up on the new, and for her part, she found their conversation fascinating. Not truly feeling the need to take part, but still feeling included nonetheless, she sat there with her darning and listened as the two rambled on; laughing softly when inevitably they would joke or deride one another, sometimes for her benefit. There was obviously a great store of affection between Mr. D'Anton and Dr. Khan, and Christine felt privileged to be a part of such a thing—if only tangentially.
"Well, my dear? Will you sing for us?" Mr. D'Anton again asked her.
Biting her lip, Christine looked from one to the other of them. Dr. Khan looked surprised but intrigued, and Mr. D'Anton… he looked to approximately where she sat expectantly.
She hadn't told Mr. D'Anton she didn't perform; he'd never really inquired, other than asking why she didn't pursue music. And he'd only asked that from an intellectual standpoint since she seemed to know so much on the subject, she was certain.
In fact, he'd never made a comment about her voice being good or bad either way, so she really didn't know where she stood with him, and that was reassuring. She considered herself another instrument at his disposal—as good as a recording device—a far less expensive and complicated one, to Christine's way of thinking.
"The song I have in mind needs to be sung, my dear, as it has only the barest hint of accompaniment." And instantly, she knew which song he wanted.
It was difficult. Perhaps one of the most operatically-challenging pieces she'd ever encountered. The Diva who performed it would have to be sensational to pull it off.
But her?
To be fair, they had practiced it; Mr. D'Anton uncertain in how she had the notes portrayed, refused to move forward until she had sung it just right to appease him.
"Please," Dr. Khan stated. "I would be honored, mademoiselle, if you would share this with me."
Biting her lip, Christine sat down her darning and agreed.
Mr. D'Anton gave a nod in her direction as she took her place by the piano, and he sat at the bench.
The opening chords of the piece began to play, and Christine started to sing.
.
.
.
Erik heard his Diva finish the aria in a resounding volley of notes that set the rafters to ringing. Silence followed, and turning his face away from her, Erik smiled.
Nadir, he was sure, was speechless. Erik could just picture him— mouth open, staring agog.
At long last, Nadir spoke, "Tha—that was…That was mirac—"
_"—my new composition, Nadir!" Erik interrupted smoothly. "Quite the beautiful piece of music, wasn't it?"
"Her voice is exquis—"
"Excellent construction if I do say so myself, but I'm thinking of changing a few notes around, and Ms. Daae provided worthy representation of what I was aiming to achieve. But yes, it just needs one or two minor changes," Erik loudly played a discordant chord hoping to jar Nadir from the trance his Diva had just put the man under. "You see, it needs to be resolved to something like this…" he played another jumble of notes until he was sure Nadir had recovered himself.
"Young woman, your talent is except—"
"Nadir, have you ever heard that war ditty from the States, 'Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition?'" Erik started playing loudly: gloriously, triumphantly, EAR-SPLITTINGLY, while singing at top of his lungs, "PRAISE THE LORD AND PASS THE AMMUNITION! PRAISE THE LORD AND PASS THE AMMUNITI—"
"ERIK!" Nadir yelled, clapping him on his shoulder. "That's quite enough!" Nadir continued shouting over his raucous piano playing, "Ms. Daae has her hands over her ears and is looking at you like you've lost your mind. Have you lost your mind?!"
"Don't compliment her, Nadir!" Erik stated quickly out of the corner of his mouth while he continued to play loudly. "Does she still have her hands over her ears?" Erik asked.
"Yes."
"Good. She hates being critiqued—for good or ill. Just compliment the music!" The piano ceased with a resounding crash of notes.
"Ms. Daae, you may lower your hands now." Erik heard Nadir say. "Erik, the aria was beautiful—very well-written and very well executed by you, my dear." Erik heard Nadir say, putting a wealth of meaning behind his words to her.
"Th-thank you," was his little mouse's sweetly voiced reply.
"Well, Erik, you've certainly put this old man's mind at ease as well as given him a delightful Christmas present in the form of that song you just played. I can't wait to tell my Sadie all about my visit and the joyful news of your impending—errm… improving condition!"
Erik grinned wryly and shook his head at the place he thought Nadir stood. The old man was as subtle as a falling chandelier.
"But, children, the afternoon grows late and my taxi, if I'm not mistaken, has just arrived.
"Take good care of yourself, my dear," he heard Nadir say to her, "and know you are doing a superb job looking after my little cottage and its sole inhabitant."
And then Nadir was hugging him and pulling him close as he whispered, "If I didn't see why you wanted to marry the girl before she sang, which I did by the way, I certainly do so now, Erik. She's a diamond, that one, and you better take good care of her."
"Never for a moment doubt it, Nadir," was Erik's only response.
"Good boy." With one final pat on the shoulder, Nadir was gone, and it was just the two of them alone in the cottage once more.
.
.
.
A/N: Well… the LONG awaited (and requested) moment FINALLY arrived. They kissed! And then that pesky Nadir shows up and spoils it all! But he was chock-full of info to share with our favorite couple, wasn't he? I'd very much like to know your thoughts on the matter, dear reader. So give that little review button a 'go' and see where the spirit takes you, hmm? :D
More soon, my dears,
PFP