With their heart’s one beat,
With their heart’s one beat.
Hair turns to silver, a breath still speaks of love.
Bones thin and tremble, a heart still beats for love.
Two lives—one joined breath. Two hearts—one strong beat.
My melody without your voice is like a bird without a wing.
My life without your heart is like a world without a spring.
A wingless bird, a darkened day, is what time will bring.
Without your breath, without your heart,
to make our one beat sing.
Please keep your breath inside my song.
Please keep your heart within my life.
Then through ages, our one true love,
Will stand the test of time.
Sharing life, sharing love,
With our heart’s one beat.
With our heart’s one beat.
With our heart’s one beat.”
While the last note was fading, I was watching her closely and silently pleading for her to love me and not leave me alone. Slowly, one tear escaped the corner of her eye and she stepped closer to me. She gently moved one finger, as well as her eyes, across the scratches her nails had made on my cheek. Then they both moved across my forehead, moving my hair from it. Next her eyes moved to meet mine, and we stayed locked in that space of hushed time with only our eyes communicating our innermost thoughts. I didn’t move, afraid to fracture the precious moment, afraid I would wake to find she was gone and that it was all only my pleading heart’s dream.
Time has a way of appearing different at different times. It can move so quickly that one feels he can’t keep up with it, and then other times it stands still. That moment with Christine’s finger moving across my forehead was one of the times when it stood still. I studied her eyes and I believe she knew exactly what I was wishing for, but she was unable or unwilling to give into my desires at that time; however, she was kind nonetheless.
She smiled while studying my eyes. “It’s breathtaking—both the melody and the lyrics. You’re a gifted man in every respect, Erik. It’s rumored that the Opera Ghost is a genius. Well, the rumors don’t come close to the facts, that I now know. The rumors speak about your brilliant mind, but the facts speak about your magnificent heart.
“Regardless of what this day brings, I want you to know how much you mean to me. If time should separate us, I’ll never feel this way about another man. What I feel for you is without description, and that’s why I can’t give you the answers you’re asking for. I honestly don’t know what they are—at least not right now.
“Be patient with me, Erik. I don’t want to say the words you want to hear and then find out that what I’ve been feeling is only your magic and mysterious ways captivating me. I can’t say yes now and then no later. I know what that would do to your giving heart, and I can’t do that to you. I care too much for you to hurt you that way.
“You told me that I deserve respect. Well, so do you, and I wouldn’t be giving you that respect if I said yes too quickly. Can you understand what I’m trying to say?”
I took her hand and kissed her wrist. “Yes, unfortunately, I do understand. You’ve only been here three days, so what can I expect? As long as you’re not saying no, then I can be patient. I’ve waited for you my entire life, so what are a few more days, or weeks, or months? I can be patient.”
She gently pulled her hand from mine and then watched her fingernails run across my temples and into my hair. Then, with a sigh, she said, “I’ll go put on the water for tea. Then would you mind showing me how you made that omelet the other day? I’d like to make it for Mummy.”
“It would be my pleasure,” I answered while getting to my feet.
She started to leave but then stopped and looked at my scribbled notes for “One Beat” on top of the piano. Then she turned and looked up at me.
“Erik, I’m curious.”
“Now, where have I heard that before?” I said teasingly.
“Seriously, you say you never forget anything—that you can remember every note and every word. If that’s true, then why do you have to write your music on paper?”
“I don’t write it down to remember it; I write it down to organize it. When I have inspirational thoughts, they come at me so fast that they blur together, and I can hardly recognize them. They swim around in my head and won’t stay still long enough for me to categorize them.”
She frowned, so I tried a different approach. “Like the omelet we’re going to make. If I put all the different ingredients in different bowls and set them on the counter, you could easily tell what they were, right?” She nodded. “Then when I put all the ingredients in one bowl and mix them up, it becomes more difficult to tell what each of them is, right?” Again she nodded. “Now imagine if I threw that bowl of ingredients at your face . . .”
“That would be really messy. I sure wouldn’t want to clean it up,” she said with a wrinkled nose.
“Exactly my point. Now imagine you have not only one bowl thrown at you but many—all at the same time. Would you be able to identify every ingredient as it came at you?”
“No, not at all.”
“Well, that’s how my thoughts are when I become creative. They are extremely messy and drive me crazy until I commit them to paper. Just like you wouldn’t be able to stay very long with that omelet mixture on your face and in your hair; you’d have to clean it off as soon as possible. So that’s what I have to do in a figurative sense.
“Once they’re on paper, I can organize them and they become a melody or lyrics or even a house or a palace. It doesn’t matter what the inspiration is; I have to treat them all the same. Depending on the size of the inspiration, it can sometimes take me a long time to complete the process. That’s why I told you there are times when I’ll stay at my piano or organ for days or weeks at a time. I become a slave to those inspirations. But once I have everything down on paper, they no longer own me—I own them. Does that make any sense?”
“Yes, completely. You’re a good teacher.”
“Why, thank you, my lady.”
From there we went into the kitchen and I showed her how I make my omelet. We ate, had her lessons, and then treated my leg, which was looking good. The last of the maggots had been used up the day before, but they did their job before they died. The black and dead tissue was gone and so was the red streak; however, there was still a deep and wide hole in my leg. I gave thought to stitching it up myself, but then, remembering what happened the last time I tried doing it myself, I chose not to.
I was planning to go back to the doctor the next day when Christine was gone, but then she insisted that I really shouldn’t wait any longer. Under the circumstance, I decided to let her think that going to the doctor was her idea, when actually it fit nicely into my thoughts of the previous evening.
Therefore, I cleaned up, including a shave, and dressed in my three-piece dark brown suit, complete with cream ruffled shirt, dark brown silk neck scarf, and my tan mask. Christine was on the divan reading a book when I walked out of my music room. She glanced up at me, back at her book, and then back at me quickly. Her jaw literally dropped, and she laid the book down.
“Erik, you look so . . . so handsome!” she exclaimed.
I never had taken compliments about my appearance well, so I responded simply. “Thank you. Are you sure you don’t mind staying here alone? I could wait and go tomorrow.”
“No, you need to go now. The doctor should look at it and decide if he wants to stitch it up. I’ll be fine. I’ll probably still be right here with this book when you get back.”
“Well, if you’re certain. Depending on how long I have to wait for him, I shouldn’t be longer than two hours.”
After positioning my hat, I turned off my motion sensor so it wouldn’t frighten her when it went off, and then headed for the doctor’s office. I didn’t have to wait long before Doctor Leglise came into the waiting room, and he ha
d almost the same reaction as Christine, although for a much different reason.
Once we got in his office, he explained, “I’m so glad to see you. Honestly, Erik, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. I felt certain you wouldn’t make it through that infection, but you seem to be looking good. How are you feeling and how is your leg?”
By then I had my trousers off and was sitting on the bed. “I’m feeling much better. I think the fever is gone and I’m able to eat again. Your new treatment seems to have done the job nicely. As for the wound—you tell me how it is. That’s why I’m here.”
He examined the wound, and stood over me shaking his head. “Well, whoever this lady friend of yours is, I would keep her around if I were you. She’s obviously good for you. I’ve never seen you look so well.”
With a sincere smile, I replied, “Keeping her around is exactly what I have in mind.”
He studied the wound carefully and then gave me instructions that took the wind out of my sails. I was thinking it really looked good, and I had nothing more to worry about, but according to him, that wasn’t the case.
“I think I should stitch it up to encourage it to heal quicker, but you still need to be careful. Basically, you’re now where you should have been a month ago. You need to keep it dry, keep using the hot compresses, stay off of it as much as you can, and get lots of rest. I want you to come back here in a week, unless you see signs of another infection setting in. If you do everything right this time, we shouldn’t have a repeat of the infection. Can you do that for me, Erik?”
I just stared at him, and I think he knew what I was feeling.
“Oh, don’t look at me that way, Erik. I’m not sentencing you to life in prison.”
“Then why does it feel like it?” I rebutted.
He patted my shoulder. “I think you’ll live. Do it right and it won’t take long.”
He left to get his instruments to stitch my wound, and I tried to talk myself back into the good mood I was in when I entered his office. It didn’t take me too long once I thought about my plans for the evening ahead.
Within the hour, I’d left his office and was at a jeweler’s shop. After looking over his premium selection, I picked out a strand of the purist Tahitian pearls and had him wrap the box in deep purple paper with a white ribbon. With a smile, I slid the gift into my inside coat pocket, picturing Christine’s face when I gave it to her.
After that, I went to the market and purchased everything I needed for the evening, still with a smile on my lips. Then, once back at the lake, I waited for ten minutes for Roland and Obert to arrive. I was prepared to tell them I wouldn’t need their help any longer, but they looked so disappointed that I made them a different offer.
“If you want, I’ll pay you to check in with me every day in case I need anything.”
“That’s great!” they both said as they jumped up and started running back toward the stairs. “See you tomorrow, Erik.”
I snickered and thought that was probably the best decision anyway, considering Doctor Leglise wanted me to stay off my leg as much as possible. I knew I had to be more careful this time around. I certainly didn’t want a repeat of that last episode.
I was smiling broadly as I walked in and saw Christine still on the divan with her book.
“My! That’s a big smile. Did you have a good trip?”
“Yes, my dear. The doctor said my leg looked great and that you were good for me and that I should keep you around. See, even he thinks you should stay with me.”
I left to put the packages in the cold pantry, but her words followed me.
“You’re teasing me again, Erik. What did he really say?”
Coming back into the dining room, I responded, “Seriously, that’s exactly what he said. I’ll take you with me next time and you can hear it from his own lips.”
She cocked her head and squinted at me. “I never know if you’re teasing me or not.”
“Honestly,” I said while holding my hands up in the air. “That’s just what he said. So, you told me that I needed to obey him—does that go for you also? Do you need to obey his advice and stay here with me?”
“Now I know you’re teasing me.”
“Am I?” I asked, as I entered my music room and shut the door.
Before long, my clothes were changed, and I was explaining to her that we needed to have an early supper because I had something special planned for the evening. Quite naturally, she was curious, but I managed to put her off. Shortly after that, we were making chicken cordon bleu, seasoned rice, cucumber salad, and hot rolls. By the time we sat down to eat, I had her convinced I was telling the truth and that she was good for me.
“You’re good for me also, Erik. I haven’t felt this carefree in I don’t know how long. Thank you for being such a good host.”
“You’re welcome. It’s been my pleasure.” I took a sip of my wine and looked at her in serious thought. “So these last four days haven’t been as bad as you thought they were going to be? Do you view me differently now than you did four days ago?”
She stopped eating and looked at me, also in seriousness. “You were right—there’s no comparison.”
Thirty-One
Her words warmed my heart and gave me hope. Perhaps after she experiences all my special surprises, she might decide to stay with me. I could always hope.
While we ate, we talked about light-hearted subjects for a short time and then there was a long silence, which was strange. Nearly the entire time she’d been there, my home was flooded with sound, either music, with our voices in song, or talking, or reading, or even laughing. What was I going to do when she was gone?
I was beginning to think the entire idea of bringing her down to my home was a bad one. My loneliness had moved in on me horribly from time to time in the past, and that was when I didn’t know what it was like to actually live with someone special around all the time. But right then, I knew what it was like, and I cherished it. I didn’t know how I could go back to the way it was. Yes, those four days were spent in heaven, but would the following days be spent in hell?
Perhaps I wouldn’t be able to spend much time in my home ever again. I wouldn’t be able to handle the silence. I would just have to spend my days following her around again, was my only answer to the problem. I was moving my food around on my plate, and silently bemoaning my coming state, when she broke the silence.
“Erik, you’re not eating. Don’t you like what we prepared?”
I smiled at her. “No, Christine, the dinner is delicious. I guess I don’t have much of an appetite today.”
It was then that I slapped myself around. There was my last chance to have a nice meal with her and I was ruining it. I reached across the table and ran my fingers over hers. I didn’t have to say I love you; she knew by then what my look meant. Our eyes stayed on each other’s for a few thought-filled moments before I smiled, took a deep breath, started cutting up my chicken, and began a conversation. However, the subject to come wasn’t going to be pleasant for either of us.
I sat up straight and, while trying to hide my emotions, spoke nonchalantly. “I’ll be taking you home this evening, so things will be changing. I’ll continue your lessons every morning at eight if you like. You would be advised to carry through with them if you want to continue to progress, but if you choose to find another instructor, I’ll understand.
“You’re welcome back down here anytime you wish. We could dine, or sing, or I could read to you if you like, that would be up to you. If you choose to never see me again, then I ask you to please tell me now, so I can prepare for my future accordingly.”
I took a drink of wine and held my breath while waiting for her response. Her eyes were fixed on mine, and she also took a sip of wine. She patted her lips with her napkin and then sat back. There she remained, peering into my eyes so deeply you would think she was trying to read my mind.
Finally, she took a deep breath and responded, “My voice has received the kis
s of my Angel of Music. There’s not another who can possibly follow his lead. I would like you to continue with my instruction for as long as you’re willing.”
I allowed myself to breathe once more. She accepted my offer. Now, would she accept the ones that were yet to come so I could continue to breathe?
“Your angel will always be willing to help you in any way, Christine. While I’m flattered and pleased with your decision, the price of such a valuable instruction comes at a cost to you and one you may not be willing to pay.”
Her eyes filled with questions along with a hint of fear.
I smiled at her. “Don’t worry, Christine. I won’t ask you to betray your chastity, but I do require a high price.” I took another sip of wine and watched her face, waiting in anxious anticipation. “I ask that you don’t see any young men, and especially Raoul, within the walls of my domain—this opera house. You know I love you. I’ve not kept that a secret. I cherish being able to watch you here, but to see you with someone else is a price I’m not willing to pay just for that privilege; therefore, I would have to insist on your obedience to my one demand.”
She thought for only a moment before responding, “That’s not too high a price to pay.”
Breathing again I went one step further. “Your mind has made a wise decision in continuing under your angel’s wing, but what about your heart, Christine? What is your heart telling you about the man you see before you?”
She closed her eyes, lowered her head, and whispered, “I don’t know, Erik. I just don’t know.”
I reached across the table and lifted her chin until our eyes met, and then I spoke softly. “I can be a very patient man while in the pursuit of something I desire.” I glanced around my home and then back into her eyes. “What you see around you is the fulfillment of a dream that took me nearly thirty years to achieve. Oh, I realize to most it doesn’t look like much, but for me it was the culmination of a long awaited dream.
“What surrounds me day and night is wood and stone with my musical notes in between.” I ran my finger across her forehead and down her cheek. “Of what greater worth is the heart of this exquisite creature who has entered my life and taken control of my heart. I dare say a million times a million more. As long as I continue to see a flicker of hope somewhere in these eyes, I’ll wait with the patience of Job.”
Through Phantom Eyes: Volume Five - Christine Page 43