First my bath and then my music and finally the thought of seeing Christine again left me feeling much better emotionally, so I gave myself more morphine to help me endure that day’s activities. Then, with my medical supplies in my violin case, I hailed a brougham and started for the Montparnasse Train Station. I got there early, hoping I could get the seat I wanted before anyone else boarded, especially Christine and Raoul.
I stepped down out of the brougham carefully, partially because of my leg but mostly because I wanted to stay inconspicuous. I paid the driver and glanced around for any sign of Christine, but I didn’t see her. Trying to keep my hat down over my face and my head down, I moved through the people waiting on the platform and through the train office where I bought a ticket. I then went to the train car as quickly as I could, and once inside I took the seat closest to the back door. Once sitting, I again lowered my head and hat, leaving just enough room below its brim to watch the station’s platform and the carriages as they pulled up.
I felt extremely relaxed, especially considering what I was doing, and it helped me remain patient while waiting for my golden angel. When she did arrive, she was all in black, as I should have expected, with only a few blond curls escaping her cloak’s hood. She first moved around the platform, I presumed looking for her young friend, and, when she didn’t find him, she sat on a bench and waited. I also waited as I searched each brougham for any sign of my rival, thinking that was my chance to see what his team and coach looked like.
As I watched each horse pass by, my plans for unveiling myself to Christine started to take shape in earnest. During the times when I watched Christine with César, I’d often thought about how terribly romantic it would be to whisk her away on him. I could picture both of us on his back as he took us to the hills outside Paris. That would be my version of all the happily-ever-after stories, where the fine young and handsome prince takes his beautiful princess away on a white stallion to his shiny castle on a hilltop. While I didn’t have all the niceties a fine young prince would have, I did have certain aspects of those stories that I could use much the same.
So I let my fertile imagination take control of my waiting period and formulated my plan. She was already enthralled with my voice, so, once I performed for her at her father’s grave, she would be even more so. Therefore, just as soon as we got back to Paris, I would arrange for a special tutoring session with her.
Up until that time, all our sessions had consisted of her doing most of the singing. I only accompanied her to encourage her or to sing the male part of a duet, but at that special time, I would sing alone to her a piece that was just then forming in my mind. It would be composed just for her and just for that occasion. It would be a piece that would reach down deep inside her heart and pull out the woman in her. It would draw her to my voice even more than she’d ever been drawn before.
I was smiling as some of the lyrics and music began swirling in my thoughts. I would pull her into my passage with nothing but the power of my voice, and she would follow me, uninhibited. With only my voice directing her, I would lead her to the end of that passage where César would be waiting in the finest and shiniest black stage tack. With great power, I’d lift her up on his back and then myself, wrapping my arms around her in a protective embrace. I would continue to sing softly words of love as we moved deeper and deeper down toward the lake.
I would be her prince on his white stallion, whisking her away. I wouldn’t be taking her to a gleaming castle on the hill but to my shrouded castle by the lake. I would make it sparkle on the inside by buying all the candles and flowers I could find. My home would be as bright and colorful as a noonday meadow, as bright as a castle on a hill.
I would sing to her all the way to my home, even as I rowed her in my boat. I pictured my voice leading us across the water and the mist parting before us. I pictured her in my lantern’s light, willingly accompanying me to my home. I pictured her blue eyes wide with amazement at my beautiful home and smiling when she agreed to stay there with me. I pictured her coming to know and love the man behind the voice—the voice that she already loved. It would be perfect there, and we would be perfect together.
I was staring at an empty space on the train platform when I came out of my creative stupor, and I instantly looked for Christine. She was pacing and twisting her black-gloved fingers nervously. She was searching for her fair-haired young man, and I automatically joined her in her search. I pulled out my watch and saw there were only five minutes left until the train was due to depart. I smiled wickedly. Had something detained him—without my interference? How perfectly wonderful, I began to think. Had fate finally decided to deal me a winning hand?
My stomach was anxiously turning as I waited out those last few minutes, hoping he wouldn’t show at the last moment. Rejoicing, I heard the final call for ‘all aboard’ and then Christine entered the car all alone. She took a seat in the middle of the car and on the other side from me, again, just perfect, since I could watch her the entire way.
But my rejoicing hit a sour note when she turned and lowered her hood. There were tears in her eyes, and I recalled her telling me how much she disliked traveling alone. Then I felt bad about my happy state, while, at the same time, glad that I wasn’t the one disappointing her or the one who’d prevented her friend from accompanying her.
Since there was nothing I could do to change the situation, I relaxed and leaned back in the corner, gazing at her spun-gold hair. There might as well not been anyone else in the car, because I saw only her. I felt so at peace, which I’m sure was partially due to the morphine once I gave into it, but, also, I was alone with Christine, and I could give her my music at the gravesite without Raoul’s intrusion.
I must have drifted off, because I woke when the train jolted and began slowing down. The sun had set, which left the car dimly lit by a lone oil lamp. I instantly looked for Christine, and she was still in the same seat and still without Raoul. I felt sick inside, knowing I’d left her unprotected while I slept, and I vowed not to drift off again.
They announced that we were pulling into a town for a rest stop and would be leaving again in 30 minutes. I lowered my head to hide my mask and let everyone else leave the car before me. I then left and followed Christine to a shop. When she entered, I stayed outside and watched from a distance until she came out and boarded the train again. Once I was back in my seat and we started to pull away, I sighed.
While I felt it was humanly impossible for Raoul to have reached that location before us, I still feared he might. It was just too perfect for him not to be there, so I was waiting for us to be settled in Perros before I’d feel completely comfortable.
We made two more stops, and it was late the next day before we finally neared Perros. When the train started to slow, I got up before anyone else and went to the landing at the back of the car. Then, just before it stopped, I was off of it. I at first wrenched from the pain that shot through my leg and hip, but then moved quickly away and into the shadows while I waited for her to step down. I saw the porter take her hand and help her down, and I sighed deeply, wanting it to be my hand, and no one else’s, that steadied her steps.
I followed her to The Rising Sun Inn and then watched from outside on the walk as she checked in and began climbing the stairs. I again followed her to see which room she was placed in; then I went back down and checked in, requesting the room next to hers. Once inside my room, I stood at the wall connecting us and listened for any sounds. I heard her moving around and then there was nothing. I was out in the hall quickly and looked toward her door just as the light under it went out. I smiled. She was going to bed and I could relax.
I spent the night staring at the ceiling and listening for any movement next door, but there was only movement outside in the hall from time to time as others were being checked in. Her room remained quiet.
As I lay there, I fine-tuned my plans for the day when Christine would finally come to understand that I was a man and how much I l
oved her. When I pictured her in my home and smiling, I realized that, while I’d planned for all the candles and flowers to make it beautiful for her, I hadn’t given any thought to her physical comfort. Where would she sleep? Where would she bathe? It would be too awkward if she knew she was sleeping in my bed or bathing in my tub.
With those thoughts, I began making mental changes to my home. I’d purchase the antique furniture she loved so much. I’d buy her scented soaps and candles and new soft towels for her bath and new bed linens and new beautiful paintings and a tapestry for the walls in what would be her bedroom. I would decorate her room with plush bedding and pillows that would make any princess leap for joy. I would fill the armoire in her room with many dresses and wraps and gloves and shoes. I would have to work fast, but I could add another bath for me, a smaller one, off my music room so she could have complete privacy.
By the time the sun was coming up, I had every detail just the way I wanted it, and I had most of the music for our romantic journey written on many pieces of the inn’s stationary. I was sitting at the small table in my room, organizing the music, when I heard sounds from her room, so I readied for a day with her. I wished I could be by her side right then, since that day was the anniversary of her father’s death, but, as yet, I wouldn’t be permitted that privilege.
I waited until I heard her door open and close, and then her steps moved past my door. I left my room and followed her at a discreet distance. After going downstairs, she entered the inn’s restaurant and was taken to a table next to the windows. I entered and took a table in the back corner where it was darkest.
I sat with my back to her, but turned just enough so I could glance over my shoulder and watch out for her. She ordered some sweet cakes and hot chocolate. But I was much too nervous to think about eating anything right then, so I simply ordered a café noir. I couldn’t believe my next thought; I actually wished Raoul were there with her so she wouldn’t be eating alone. That was the one thing she didn’t want, to be alone, and yet there she was. I was once again thankful that I had nothing to do with his absence or I would have felt truly awful at the sight of her all alone.
Once she was finished eating, she went to the doorman and spoke to him. I was too far away to hear exactly what she said, but I could read her lips enough to know she’d just ordered a carriage. She then walked right past me and back up the stairs. The temptation to step out in front of her and introduce myself was strong, but, instead, I kept repeating: patience, Erik, patience.
I went to my room for my cloak and hat and then left the inn, heading straight for the livery where I rented a horse. After being forced to mount from the right side due to my injured leg, I went back to the inn, but I didn’t go inside. Instead, I waited across the street in an alleyway, watching through lightly falling snow for my angel to appear.
Soon the carriage pulled up and Christine came out and entered. I followed the carriage long enough to know she was going to the cemetery, so I took a side road and rode as fast as my leg would permit until I was past the cemetery and up on the hill behind it. I moved to the same spot in a cluster of trees where I’d stood thirty-five years previously, during my father’s funeral.
It felt strange to be there like that, waiting and watching for a carriage to approach, just as I’d done that day so long ago. It felt even stranger as her black carriage arrived and she stepped out. My thoughts turned instantly to Gigi in her black attire and gold hair amid the fresh snow and barren trees.
I shook off my memories and concentrated on Christine as she moved through the cold and lifeless tombstones on her way to her father’s grave. Then she stopped before a headstone and stood looking down for a long time, without any movement. My heart ached for hers, since I knew exactly what she was feeling. She knelt down, and her head went down also. I wanted so badly to be there beside her, to hold her and comfort her. Perhaps next year, I thought. Perhaps next year.
While she was there, I looked at the surrounding terrain and decided the best place to play my violin for her would be from the top of the church roof. I could be close enough to her to watch her and yet hide behind the cross and steeple. The acoustics would also be the best from that high location, but, with the current condition of my leg, how was I to get up there? I couldn’t climb or jump as I normally would. That obstacle would have to be worked out.
After about an hour, she moved toward the church and entered it through the front door. I walked my horse down toward the back of the church and tied him there. It was then that my own black gloved hand went to my mouth in a gasp. Everywhere around me, and especially up against the church, were bones; human bones and skulls, almost buried by the light snow.
I looked around quickly, trying to understand that strange phenomenon. Throughout the entire cemetery, there were some graves that had been unearthed, and my heart jerked, fearing my father’s could be one of them. My cloak bellowed out behind me as I tore through the plots on my way to my father’s grave. I stopped in front of it, with quick puffs of white air leaving my lips, and then looked down at his stone and grave still in its proper condition. I closed my eyes and lowered my head. I didn’t know what I would have done if it were his bones that were piled up against the church, resembling a stonemason’s stack. I shuddered at the thought.
I took a deep breath, looked toward the church, and then toward where Christine had been standing. I went there and looked down at her father’s grave, also thankful that it hadn’t been disturbed. A sick feeling sunk into my chest at the thought of her arriving there and finding her father’s bones scattered around the graveyard like so much rubbish.
I felt my brow wrinkle as I looked back at the church and pictured her panicking. My head shook slowly, and I knew for sure if that had happened to her I wouldn’t have been able to leave her alone like that. Perfect plans, or no perfect plans, she would have come to know me right then and there, because I would have had to take her in my arms and comfort her.
I hated that she’d seen all that remained of once living men and women. It was disturbing to me, so it had to be disturbing to her. If I’d known the cemetery’s condition ahead of time, I would have arrived there much before her and removed the bones so she wouldn’t have had to witness such a gruesome sight. But it was too late to do anything about it, so I returned to the back of the church and entered it.
It was dark inside, with the exception of the faint sunlight filtering in through the stained glass windows. It was also quiet as I moved carefully through the shadows. I peered around from behind a pillar until I spotted her in one of the pews close to the front. It was there that I remained for almost an hour before a priest came in.
She talked to him for a moment, and then he started a mass for her father. She stayed a while longer and from there she went back outside and wandered around the different headstones. At each one, she stopped and looked down at it. I wasn’t certain what she was doing or thinking, but she was there for almost another hour before the same carriage arrived and she left.
I went back to the horse, back to the stable, and back to the inn. By the time I’d climbed the stairs, made sure Christine was in her room, and gone to my room, my leg had given out on me completely. I’m sorry to say that I was in tears the pain was so bad, so, without any forethought, I took another dose of morphine, but only enough to curb the pain. Too much would put me to sleep, and I wanted to stay awake and listen for Christine if she left her room again.
I lay across the bed and tried to figure out how I was going to get on top of the church roof, but, with the sun setting, my eyelids became heavy and started to close. I was just drifting off when I heard Christine’s door open and close, so I was on my feet within a moment. I listened to her light steps and the sound of her skirt rustling as she passed my door, and then I cracked my door open and watched her start down the stairs.
Grabbing my cloak, I followed her once more to the restaurant where she was seated in much the same location as before. I was getting hungr
y, so when she ordered, so did I. I once again sat so I could observe her over my shoulder and spoke to myself about my need to hurry up the process of letting her know who I really was. I wanted so badly to be sitting there across the table from her and talking with her the way we had through the mirror. I wanted that so badly.
I was in deep thought about the day when that would happen when I heard her exclaim, “Raoul!”
Twelve
I jolted around just in time to see Christine on her feet and heading for my fair-haired enemy. His face lit up with a large smile when he saw her. Removing his hat, he started moving through the sea of tables toward her. They embraced each other, and my teeth clamped down while I glared at them both.
His arrival completely took me by surprise. Once he hadn’t appeared on the train, I figured his aristocratic pride had been too severely hurt by Christine’s rejection and he wasn’t going to show at all, but I was sadly wrong. I was furious with his continual meddling, and my eyes could have burnt holes in his back as they made their way to her table.
Without giving any thought to the consequences, I rose and headed straight for them. They were so engrossed in themselves that they didn’t even notice me as I sat at the table right next to theirs, placing my back to them.
If I’d given any thought whatsoever to what I was doing, I never would have taken that chance, but all I could think about was hearing their conversation; I just had to. Although, later when I thought about it, I really didn’t need to be so concerned about being noticed, since they would never recognize me for who I was—that is, as long as I remained silent.
By the time I cleared my mind, Raoul was explaining what had happened.
“When I got your note, I dressed immediately and left for the train, but it had already left, so I had to wait for the next one. I’m so sorry you had to travel alone. I know you hate that.”
Through Phantom Eyes: Volume Five - Christine Page 16
