Chapter 49: To E

I have remembered beauty in the night,
Against black silences I waked to see
A shower of sunlight over Italy
And green Ravello dreaming on her height;
I have remembered music in the dark,
The clean swift brightness of a fugue of Bach's,
And running water singing on the rocks
When once in English woods I heard a lark.

But all remembered beauty is no more
Than a vague prelude to the thought of you —
You are the rarest soul I ever knew,
Lover of beauty, knightliest and best,
My thoughts seek you as waves that seek the shore,
And when I think of you, I am at rest.

"To E." By Sara Teasdale (1884 - 1933)

"Seriously, Christine, what is the matter? You look pale and tired. I know it is not the opera. For the last fifteen months of preparations and rehearsals, you have been a bundle of inexhaustible energy. Are you ill, ma chère? Should I call a physician?"

Christine smiled at the concern she saw on her husband's well-loved features. She turned around to face him from her seat in front of her dressing table and smiled gently. She held out her hands to Erik and he took them into his as he knelt before her.

"What is it?"

She drew his hands to her and placed them over her abdomen. Her eyes moved from staring into his and down to the place their hands covered then back up to his eyes. She shrugged ever so slightly and gave a mischievous smile. She watched as his eyes moved from their joined hands and back to hers. After the fifth time, he froze as his eyes met hers. His mouth moved silently and Christine began to frown.

"Erik?"

Her frown deepened as he continued to mumble soundlessly.

"Erik Destler!"

He jumped and then blinked slowly, his eyes returned to look at the spot covered by their hands.

"Erik, what were you saying just now? I need to know."

He raised wonder-filled eyes to hers and she relaxed.

"You are with child? We made a child. You and I made a child. You shall be a mother and I, a father. This is more than I could ever have dreamt possible! First, I marry the most beautiful woman in all the world. And, now, we will have a family. It is a miracle. Please! Tell me I am not dreaming!"

She smiled as her eyes began to fill with happy tears.

"You are not dreaming, mon mari. Of this, I am quite certain. You are not dreaming. God willing, we shall become parents in six month's time."

He leaned into her and covered her abdomen with wild kisses as she placed happy kisses on the top of his head. And, they both shed tears of joy.

"Meg, I thought that the first dress they showed you was the best one. Do we really need to continue looking? I grow rather tired of looking at the svelte ladies modeling these dresses for you when I appear as large as one of those balloons Raoul likes to ride. I only wish I could float like a balloon instead of waddling along. No one ever told me that being pregnant in the summer was so uncomfortable. Meg, when you marry, never join with Raoul during winter. I cannot think of a more uncomfortable time to be with child than the summer!"

"Christine! Please! Keep your voice lowered. You are a scandal for me to associate with as it is. You should be in confinement and your refusal to hide away in your home is causing an uproar among the upper classes. You are the talk of the town. All of the ladies gossip how you and Erik went to the opera just last week and how you and I go out regularly for tea. I just know that you accompanying me here today is going to make tongues wag for at least a month. And, I absolutely love it."

The petite blonde giggled as she leaned in conspiratorially and whispered.

"Really, Christine! I heard the Comtessa d'Schiavon fainted when she heard you say you are pregnant. You did not really say that, did you?"

The girl giggled again and then she bit her lip as she looked about the salon to make certain no one overheard their conversation. Christine cast an indignant look at Meg.

"Of course I did. After all, that is what I am. I am pregnant. Very pregnant, I might add."

Meg looked at her friend and shook her head.

"Christine, you were so tiny before that until just recently, you only looked as if you had gained some weight. You never looked with child. You still do not."

The young mother-to-be rolled her eyes.

"Wonderful! I do not look pregnant. I just look fat. Remind me to give you the same support when you are expecting your first child, Meg. I am certain that you will find it as reassuring as I do."

"Oh Christine, I am so sorry. I simply cannot seem to say anything right lately!" Meg moaned.

Christine shook her head and sighed.

"It is not your fault. I am so uncomfortable. It is so hot and the bébé kicks so much that I believe I shall give birth to an octopus!"

Meg gave a small shriek of outraged laughter.

"Really, Christine, the way you speak, I can imagine your words coming from the mouth of a man. You speak so plainly. What does Erik have to say about all of this?"

The dark-haired woman sighed again and then gave a pouting frown.

"He does not say much. Lately, he has taken to closeting himself away in the music room. He is composing. Seriously, though, Meg, Elaine and I have to threaten him with dire circumstances to make him come out and eat. Between the time he spends working at the firm and the time he spends composing, I barely see him and it just makes me even more aggravated. I just want this bébé born. I want to have done with it. I want to return to the opera house and sing. I guess I just miss Erik's attention."