He had been there when she entered her room, seen fatigue etched on
her lovely face, her eyes
drowned in shadows. Had watched as she lay down on the chaise,
covered herself and gradually
relax into a deep sleep. He saw a smile play around her lips
and thought she must be dreaming of
pleasant things.
And then he saw her begin to toss and turn. Her hands moved over
the quilt in little agitated
movements, her head turned from side to side. And then she cried
out, her voice husky with fear.
She cried out that she was falling...falling... Tears began to
rain down her pale cheeks as a frightful
nightmare gripped her in its tight hold.
Erik could stand it no longer. Releasing the catch on the mirror,
he stepped swiftly through and into
the room. Catlike, he trod lightly over to the chaise and gently,
so gently it was like the touch of a
butterfly, he caught her flailing arms in his, the soft white gloves
smoothly warm against her bare
arms.
She stilled under his touch. Gradually, her body relaxed once
more as the nightmare faded. She
murmured in her sleep. A questioning little voice which asked...
“are you an angel?” Removing
his light hold from her arms, his hand hovered over her sleeping face.
Dare he? Oh, if only he
could! Again she murmured, her mouth tilting in a little smile.
“Angel....?”
I may never have this opportunity again, he thought, and so he had taken
off a glove and let his
fingers trail across her forehead in a touch so light, so delicate
that it was the ethereal caress of a
ghost.
“Angel...sing...for me...”
He caught the drift of whispered words and obeyed them.
The simple lyrics of an age-old lullaby came to mind and softly, he
began to sing to her. His voice
enveloped her in such serene and beautiful sound that she sank further
into slumbers, completely
relaxed, calm and tranquil and still.
He stood and watched her for hours, the slight rise and fall of her
breathing; the hair spread out
around her in a cloud of nut-brown curls; the sweep of her lashes
against her cheeks, the delicate
bone structure of her face. He was suffused by the strength of
the love he felt for her and could only
look in wonder at the sleeping form of the beautiful girl before him.
She began to stir. He stepped back from the couch. Soon,
she would awaken and so he must be
gone. Touching his fingers to his malformed lips, he blew a kiss
down upon her face and retreated
behind the mirror once again.
He watched her waken slowly, stretching luxuriously after her dream-tossed
sleep. He saw her
prepare her simple meal, eat it daintily as she read through her script.
Then her expression become
faraway and he guessed that she was reliving her dreams. She
cleared away her tea and tidied her
appearance for the forthcoming rehearsal. Standing before the
mirror she combed her hair. He
stared into her great blue eyes, drinking in her beauty. He could
not help himself. He whispered her
name.
“Christine...”
And she had answered so joyfully!