Through Phantom Eyes: Volume Five - Christine

by Theodora Bruns

  As I watched the trees passing my window, I could see clearly just how dangerous our situation was. And as strange as it sounded, out of the three of us, I was the only one sane enough to know we couldn’t continue the way we were. So I had to make the change. I had to make the decisions that could put all of our lives back into balance.

  While I honestly believed that what I’d told Raoul about not forcing a rose to open was true, I knew that was exactly what I had to do. I questioned my motives as I replayed both Raoul’s and Oded’s words in my head. Was I being deceitful? Was I seducing her unwittingly? Was I really being honest with her and myself? Did we really have the connection I believed we did or was it just my imagination fueled by years of unsatisfied needs?

  I thought about Christine’s words to Meg. How could I know for sure what she was thinking or feeling when she didn’t? But then, I couldn’t just sit around and wait for her to completely betray me without having my heart prepared. If I wasn’t prepared and in a balanced condition before that decision was made, I didn’t want to think about how far off that tightrope I might fall or how many people I might take down with me. My thoughts were torturous, and, with a heavy heart, I came to only one conclusion.

  Both Christine and I had to know the answers to those questions, and as long as we were in each other’s company I didn’t see how we could be sure of our true feelings. I was too blinded by my love for her and she was also being blinded, perhaps by just who I was or whatever it was that Oded said I possessed. I didn’t know, but before I went completely off on the right side of that tightrope and committed a deliberate murder, I had to know the truth about what we were feeling.

  Therefore, I knew I had to do something that I wouldn’t have imagined I could do. I was going to tell her I needed to be alone to work on Don Juan for two weeks. So she could come to know me, she’d stayed with me for two weeks willingly. Now I had to give that two weeks back to her without my influence in her life and see what she did with it. If what she was feeling for me was real, then I had nothing to fear and at the end of the two weeks she would still be mine. And, if not, I had to set her free before the unimaginable happened. As at so many other times in my life, what I was going to do wasn’t necessarily what I wanted to do, but it was what I knew I had to do. I had to be prepared to let her go.

  When the carriage stopped behind the opera house, I nearly stumbled out of it and barely made it to the lake, only to remember that my boat was on the other side of it. Therefore, I was forced to go back up two flights and take the passage down into my music room. Once inside my home, I leaned against the wall, closed my eyes, and began coughing, causing me to drop helplessly to my knees in pain. Then Christine’s tender and worried voice reached my conflicted senses.

  “Erik! What’s happened?”

  I tried to focus on the wavering room and saw her coming toward me; then my thoughts also began to waver. I pictured her with Raoul the night before and anger swelled inside me, while, at the same time, her concerned face and compassionate voice became music to my soul.

  “Oh, Erik, you look horrible.”

  Without answering, I got to my feet and headed for the drawing room, steadying myself on pieces of furniture along the way. I stopped in the doorway and leaned against its frame, while Christine followed me, repeating her question. She walked past me and stood in front of me, still asking me that same question. I wanted to fall into her arms and sob, but my thoughts of what might have happened the night before caused me only to glare down at her.

  “Erik, please, answer me. What happened to you? Where were you last night?”

  Coldly, I responded, “I would like to ask you that same question, my dear.”

  Her brow wrinkled, and, with a tone of confusion, she replied, “I was here waiting for you.”

  “Oh, really?” I questioned with sarcasm while lifting myself from the frame and heading for her room. I opened the door, looked inside, and then looked at her coldly. “Your room looks undisturbed. Are you sure you want to stick to that story?”

  She frowned seriously and stepped back from me. “Erik, what’s wrong with you? Why are you questioning me this way? You sound like Raoul, and I don’t like it, and I won’t allow it.”

  “Raoul? Don’t compare me with that scoundrel. I was here last night and you weren’t here, Christine, and now your bedroom is confirming that fact.”

  She frowned even more and shook her head slightly. “I didn’t sleep in my bed. I sat up in your chair, waiting for you to return. Since there was little food in here, I decided I’d go across the street and buy us dinner after the performance. When I got here and found your wet cloak and soaked saddlebags just lying on the floor, I got so worried. It wasn’t like you to do such a thing. I was so troubled that I couldn’t go to bed, so I sat up and waited for you.”

  Still not convinced, I again accused her. “You say you bought food. Then where is it? I didn’t see any food. Do you want to stick to that story also?”

  “What do you mean, stick to that story? That’s what happened, so there’s no story to it. You told me you’d be back in four days, and yesterday was the fourth day. I was hoping you’d be here after the performance, and I wanted to surprise you with a nice dinner. But when you didn’t show up, I put the food in the pantry. Why the interrogation, Erik? What are you trying to insinuate?”

  “You weren’t with Raoul last night? You haven’t spent these last four nights in his bed?”

  She took a step back from me, and her frown turned to a scowl. “Erik! How dare you accuse me of such a thing? What makes you think I’d give away my love prematurely? Do you think that little of me? Furthermore, how do I know you weren’t sleeping in someone else’s bed?”

  Ignoring that ridiculous question, I kept asking, “Are you expecting me to believe that, with me out of the picture, Raoul didn’t seize the opportunity to have you all to himself? Are you telling me that you haven’t been with him this entire time?”

  “Well, yes, I’ve spent time with him, but not during the nights and certainly not last night. We had supper together two nights ago, but last night I was here waiting for you.”

  I closed my eyes and leaned against her bedroom doorframe. Could I be wrong?

  “Your restrictions were that I didn’t see him inside your opera house, Erik, and I haven’t. Are you now suggesting that I did something wrong by having supper with him away from here?”

  I sighed and looked at her for a moment, and then I started for the divan before I fell over. Keeping my cloak wrapped around me, I lay down and started coughing again.

  “Erik, what’s wrong with you? Why are you so suspicious? Talk to me?” she insisted.

  I closed my eyes and took as deep a breath as I could. I didn’t know what to say to her. I was so angry, but, at that moment, I wasn’t really sure who I was the angriest at—her, Raoul, or me.

  She knelt down next to me. “Erik, please talk to me. You’re frightening me.”

  I looked at her and searched her eyes for the truth and my heart for proper words, and then she laid her hand on my right shoulder and squeezed. I groaned and tried to move away. My eyes were tightly closed when she gasped, and I opened them to see her with my cloak laid open.

  “Oh, Erik! What’s happened to you? You’re bleeding badly!” She jumped to her feet. “We have to get you to a doctor right away.”

  I closed my eyes again and responded softly, “I just came from there.”

  With the true caring voice of my Christine, she questioned, “Oh, my poor Erik. I’m so sorry. What happened?” I scowled at her, and she backed away with a frown. “Erik, what’s wrong? Why are you angry with me? What did I do?”

  With the full degree of self-pity and self-loathing, I responded, “I’m sorry. I suppose you didn’t do anything wrong. This blood was caused by another person who wants me dead, nothing more. Just the same thing over and over and over again.”

  She ran her hand over my forehead, and I wanted to give into her
care, but I was so confused and still partly angry and still very jealous.

  “Oh, Erik. Oh, my poor Erik. What can I get you? Oh, my poor Erik.”

  “Will you stop saying that!” I ordered harshly. Then I glared at her. “I’ve been in worse shape—much worse. You need to leave and go home.”

  Almost stomping her feet, she insisted, “I am home, Erik, remember? I’m not leaving you, so don’t even try to tell me to go because I won’t. In addition, from the looks of you, you’re in no position to make me. Now, please, tell me what happened, and let me help you. What did the doctor say? What do I need to do?”

  Closing my eyes again, I said softly, “I need to sleep. So leave me alone and let me sleep.”

  “Very well, but do you have medicine you need to take before you sleep? Or how about a clean shirt? Can I get you a clean shirt?” she asked as she started for my armoire.

  “No, Christine!” I snapped. “Let me sleep!”

  She continued on anyway and then came back with a pillow that she placed gently under my head and a blanket that she put over me. She took off my wet shoes and socks, and then looked down at me.

  “Your trousers are damp and so is your cloak. You should really change them before you go to sleep. Sleeping in damp clothes won’t help your cough any.”

  “Please, just leave me alone,” I replied softly.

  She did as I asked, but only after she placed a clean pair of socks on my feet and another blanket over me. Then she went around the room and turned all the lights off except for the one in her room. I don’t remember anything else for I don’t know how long, and, when I opened my eyes again, I saw a lit fire with Christine curled in my chair and watching me. As soon as she saw me open my eyes, she was by my side again.

  “Can I get you anything, Erik? How about some tea?”

  I sighed and looked at her beautiful, compassionate eyes, and then I surrendered to her care. I told her how to make the tea for my lungs, and asked for a clean shirt and the medicine for my lungs that was in my armoire. When she came back, she also had a clean pair of trousers and two more blankets.

  “These,” she said while removing the blankets off me, “are damp from your clothing. I’ll put them by the fire to dry.”

  When she held out her hand to me, I placed my left hand in hers and let her help me sit up. She gently took my cloak and coat off me, and then, kneeling in front of me, she started unbuttoning my bloody shirt. As I looked at her caring face, I felt my wildest fantasies coming true, which I felt could never be fulfilled, so I grabbed her wrist.

  “I can dress myself, but, if you could, please get me some warm water to wash with, and give me a few minutes to change my clothes.”

  Reluctantly, she did as I’d asked and left me to fend for myself. Somehow, I managed to get my shirt off and my trousers changed, and then I lay back against the divan with the blanket over my bare chest and legs. Shortly she came back with the warm water, a rag, and a pot of tea. I sat up, and she started washing the remainder of the dried blood from my arm and hands. My emotions started moving toward passion, so I took the rag from her and did the job myself. But when I couldn’t reach my back, she once more took over.

  She sat beside me, and I leaned forward. When she took the rag from my hand and began running the cloth over my back, I heard her sniffle. I tried to glance over my shoulder, but I could barely move my neck without additional pain. So, when she moved forward to wash out the rag, I saw her face wet with tears, and her brow was furrowed, as if she was in personal pain.

  She ran the rag over my back again and whispered, “I’m so sorry, Erik. This is so wrong. I just don’t understand. Why would anyone want to hurt you like this?”

  My anger over Raoul’s attack returned, and the inflection in my voice registered its degree. “More of the same, Christine. Just someone who didn’t want me in the way any longer. You’ve had the tour of my life by way of my scars. Treat this one the same, and then put it behind you, because that’s what I’ll have to do.”

  She was silent for a moment, and then she asked in a tone that told me she really didn’t want to know the answer. “And this attacker—is he dead?”

  I shook my lowered head slightly and answered softly, “No. This latest threat to my life has been kissed by a special angel and seems to carry with him a secret potion that makes him immune to my curse.”

  She sighed, in relief, I’m sure, and then asked, “Will you tell me what happened?”

  I shook my head slightly again, closed my eyes, and willingly let her clean my back, relaxing and enjoying her loving touch. I thought about all the scars she was looking at and cursed myself for being so careless and letting someone add another one. I felt so stupid for turning my back toward my enemy. It was the strong passion of jealousy that had caused my latest scar, and, as Christine’s gentle touch caressed my back, I wondered how many more scars I would receive before a fatal blow hit.

  I think I might have been able to keep my emotions in check if I’d kept my eyes closed, but, once she dried by back and started to help me on with my shirt, I opened my eyes and watched her face. The anger I’d been feeling for her drifted away and only the love remained.

  When she knelt down beside me again and started buttoning my shirt, she looked up into my eyes and then at her hands on my shirt and then back into my eyes. Oh, how I loved that woman. She had to love me. She just had to.

  By the time she finished the last button, I was once more thankful I was sufficiently hidden behind the blanket, or I wouldn’t have been able to conceal my feelings for her.

  She straightened my collar and then ran her palm across my cheek, smiling softly. “You’re fuzzy, Erik. I like it.”

  The innocent way she made that gesture and the childlike tone in her voice made me chuckle and helped me keep my thoughts clean. But, from the effort to chuckle, I started coughing, increasing the pain in my shoulder, and, I’m sure, the grimace on my face.

  Her smile quickly turned to a frown as she laid her fingers across my forehead, and, in her true caring fashion, she asked, “Where have you been, Erik? You’re very sick.”

  Trying to relieve some of her concern, I partially explained, “I’m not that sick, so you don’t need to worry. This is a problem I’ve carried from my childhood, another scar you might say, although invisible. I can assure you, I’ve been much worse off and survived. So don’t worry, my dear. Enough of this tea and medicine and I’ll be fine.”

  She came back quickly. “Maybe enough tea along with good food. You don’t look as if you’ve eaten much lately. There’s the dinner I got last night. Would you like some of it?”

  “Not right now. I don’t have much of an appetite.”

  “That’s not a good enough reason, Erik. You should eat, but I won’t force the issue right now.”

  She picked up my dirty clothes, took a strong look at my bloody shirt, and, as she started leaving the room, said, “I’ll put these in to soak and wash them in the morning.”

  “No, Christine. You need to leave. You can stay here tonight, but tomorrow I want you to leave, and I want you to stay away from me for two weeks.”

  She stopped instantly and looked back at me. “What?”

  I swallowed hard and went on before I lost my determination. “At the end of the two weeks, your performance as my living wife will end, one way or the other.”

  “Erik, what are you talking about? What have I done wrong?”

  After a long slow breath, I continued, “You’ve only been you, which is nothing bad or wrong, but you do act as a catalyst between Raoul and me, which is bad. Not only can none of us be happy as long as we remain in this triangle but it’s becoming increasingly dangerous for us to do so. I fear a calamity of gigantic proportions is on the horizon. Therefore, I need you to leave for two weeks, which is how long you originally stayed with me and away from Raoul. I’ll stay down here and work on Don Juan for the two weeks and allow you time to spend with him or Madame Valerius or whomever you w
ish.”

  Then, with lying lips, I planted the seeds that would enable me to keep close watch on her thoughts. “I do want to caution you though. While the sky looks peaceful, it’s dangerous this time of year. The air is full of pollen that will play havoc with your vocal cords if you allow it to. So I strongly advise you to stay either inside Madame Valerius’ home or inside the opera house as much as possible. No walks in the park or carriage rides for sure.

  “Since I’ll be absorbed in Don Juan, it doesn’t matter if Raoul spends time with you here; in fact, it’s preferable to your being outside. Do you understand, Christine? This is an extremely important role for you to perform. It can either make or break your career.”

  She nodded and naturally thought I was speaking about her theatrical role and career; however, I was really referring to the test I was putting her through. I feared what the test results would reveal, but I had to know for sure. I’d already given my heart to her on numerous occasions, but, before I lost it—and what was left of my mind—completely, I had to know her true heart’s condition.

  I took a deep breath and went on with my scripted deception. “You have no further need of tutoring for the role of Marguerite, but you’ll always need to make sure you exercise and warm up your voice properly every single day. Since I want to spend all my time on my opera, I won’t be present at any of the performances. But, at the end of the two weeks, I’ll be in the audience listening, probably for the last time, so I ask you to sing for me that night.”

  She responded softly, “I always sing for you, Erik.”

  I thoughtfully acknowledged her kind reply and continued, “After you change out of your costume, I’ll be waiting right here for you. I ask that you come back down here and give me one of two things—either your heart or my ring—since our little make-believe opera will be over and your performance will end at that time.

  “Then all of us will be able to breathe safely, and you’ll be free to become a real wife to either Raoul or me or no one. The choice will be entirely yours, Christine. I’ll not beg or cry or badger you in any way. I’ll be a gentleman about it, I promise. My only request is that you make sure you come back and give me either my ring, which you know holds dear memories for me, or your heart, which I value more than my own.”