Chapter Thirteen
Jenny languished for days, barely
eating or sleeping, staring into space with a terrifyingly blank
expression. She had no energy left for
putting up with life's cruelties and wanted nothing more than to slip into
black oblivion, where she would never hurt again. Erik would never love her the way that he had loved Christine...
no one would. As each day left her
weaker and increasingly disposed to unconsciousness, she felt certain that the
end was near and fully embraced the possibility.
Erik was increasingly agitated about
her lack of response to anything he said or did. Not only that, but she showed no inclination towards fighting her
illness and what started as a mild fever rapidly escalated into
life-threatening severity. She was worn
out from coughing and was unable to breathe without wheezing. Her skin was as white as his mask and Erik
was beside himself. She was slowly
killing herself; not just in body, but in spirit as well. He could administer any medicine he wished,
but if she had lost the will to live... she would certainly die.
His precious angel would leave him
and never return, a victim of the same pain that had almost claimed him. He couldn't let her go... just
couldn't! She was the only remaining
light in the dark void of his life. He dared
not even contemplate life without his little savior. If she died... so would he, swallowed whole by his own dark
nature and unending loneliness.
He had no choice. He had run out of solutions and needed the
help of another, much as he loathed to admit it. With a sick heart, he put on his hat and cloak and headed outside,
despite raging winter storm. His footsteps left large prints in the deep snow
and cracked ice in his wake, the prints eventually leading to the large de
Changy estate. He merely lingered on
the front lawn for a split second, wondering if he dared approach. Christine was the only person he felt he
could ask for help... but would she agree?
There was no time to waste, he reminded himself, if he was going to do
something, he had to do it now.
"May I... help you... monsieur?"
the Changy's little maid stuttered in a lilting Irish accent, trembling in
fright at the appearance of this malevolent, black shadow with desperate
eyes. Instinctively, she crossed
herself, her green eyes huge and hands trembling with terror.
"Is Christine here?" he
demanded quickly, unwilling to deal with a horrified
maid-servant
while Jenny wasted away in his home.
"Yes, monsieur... shall
I fetch her?" she replied in a quivering voice.
"Yes, please... tell her that
her friend is dying." Erik nodded, dismissing the maid's rudeness in not
allowing him indoors out of the cold, snowy night.
Within seconds, Christine was at the
door, squinting into the shadows to find Erik coated with snow and sleet.
"Erik?" she exclaimed.
"Yes, it's me." Erik
stepped into the pool of light that fell through the open doorway.
"I can't believe Shannon didn't
let you in!" she said incredulously, motioning him inside. "You're drenched!"
"There's no time for that! Christine, I... I need your help." he
ignored her concern.
"Yes, what's this about a
friend dying?" she asked, shutting the door quickly and waving Shannon
away.
"It's Jennifer... she's sick...
very sick. No matter what medicine I
give her, she only gets worse." he sank into a chair, afraid he might
burst into tears in front of Christine.
"She's dying, Christine... killing herself."
"Killing herself? How?" she asked, worry plain in her
voice.
"She has no will to live... for
the same reason that I nearly killed myself."
"You tried to commit
suicide?" Christine placed a hand on his shoulder.
"I was insane with grief after
you left, Christine. I wanted nothing
more than to die... it was Jenny's love that saved me." he whispered,
recalling the night he'd fallen asleep in Jenny's warm embrace, safe from all
harm.
"You believe she's dying from
lack of love?" Christine asked.
"I do. And my love doesn't seem to have a
reciprocal effect on her." Erik sighed.
"You love her?" she
repeated. "Does she know
this?"
"Of course she knows! I've told her!"
"Why don't you let me talk with
her?" Christine suggested, fetching her heavy cloak from the back of
another chair. "Maybe I can find a
solution."
"What of your husband?"
Erik asked uncomfortably, certain that the aristocrat would not approve of
Christine being anywhere near him.
"Fiancé; Raoul and I aren't
married just yet." Christine corrected him. "He'll be fine... I'll leave a note telling him that I'm
helping Jenny."
The two stole into the wintry night,
boarding a nearby carriage and urging the driver to go dangerously fast over
the icy roads. Christine glanced
repeatedly at Erik, taking in his agitated posture and the urgency he
proclaimed necessary. He had admitted
to a sort of brotherly love for Jenny, but Christine suspected it went deeper
than that. His concern over a girl he'd
known only a mere three months combined with the uncharacteristic disregard of
herself told Christine volumes. Erik
probably hadn't acknowledged it even to himself, but he was falling in love
with Jennifer Marie Black.
They didn't speak at all until they
were outside of Jenny's bedroom door.
Erik opened the portal slowly, allowing Christine a look at Jenny's
condition.
"Good God! She's white as a sheet!" Christine
winced.
"I know... and listen to her
breathing..." Erik replied in an unsteady voice. "I'm losing her, Christine... she's slipping away from me
and I... I can't stop it." he said, his eyes desperately searching hers
for encouragement.
"Just calm down, Erik, you
haven't lost her yet. I'll do
everything I can to help." she said after taking a deep breath. "Meanwhile, why don't you go heat up
some soup for her, I'll get her talking."
He nodded and set out to follow her
sound directions, knowing that the mundane, every-day actions would soothe his
troubled spirit as well as serve Jenny's recovery. Christine slipped into Jenny's room quietly and sat on the chair
next to the bed.
"Jenny?" she called
softly, grasping the younger girl's cold hand.
"Erik..." she moaned,
still half-asleep. Her eyes fluttered
open and focused on Christine with difficulty.
"Christine?" she asked, as if unsure if what she saw was
real. "Is that you?"
"Yes, it's me." Christine
nodded. "How are you
feeling?"
"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with Raoul?" Jenny
asked, overlooking Christine's question.
"Erik came to fetch me... he's
very worried about you, Jenny." Christine answered, sensing a hint of
accusation in Jenny's tone. Did the
girl think she'd come back to steal Erik away?
"Worried about me?" she
repeated. "Why?"
"You're very ill, Jenny... and
you don't seem to be fighting it. He's
afraid he'll lose you." Christine replied, smoothing back a heavy lock of
hair back from Jenny's sweaty forehead.
"Afraid he'll lose me?"
Jenny scoffed. "The only woman
that man cares about is you, Christine."
There was a definite note of bitterness in her voice now.
"Now, don't be silly."
Christine replied sternly. "He
cares for you very much."
"But it's you he loves!"
Jenny cried, tears suddenly filling her fever-bright eyes. "It's you he wants!"
"He loves you!" Christine
insisted.
"As a friend, yes. But that's not what I want. I want him to love me the way-" she
choked on a burgeoning sob. "The
way that... he loves you."
"Is that what this is all
about?" Christine whispered after a pause. "You're jealous of me because Erik loves me?"
"No, not
jealous...envious." Jenny shook her head.
"I can't be jealous of you, you're my friend. I just wish that... that Erik could love me
like that."
"You think he can't... or
won't?"
"Can't." Jenny
sighed. "You and I are as
different as day and night, Christine.
You're introspective, soft-spoken... you're beautiful. Me, I'm... I'm loud, sarcastic, and...
well... not pretty."
"You are not!" Christine
exclaimed. "You are independent
and strong-willed, not obnoxious! And
as for looks, well... you're not a fairy tale princess, but you've your good
points."
"It's no use,
Christine..." Jenny whimpered.
"He'll never love me in that way."
"Do you love him?" she
asked suddenly. "I mean in that
way?"
"Yes..." Jenny nodded
without hesitation. "I do."
"You admire him?"
"Of course!"
"You... desire him... his
body?"
Jenny looked up in mild surprise and
was relieved to see no ridicule, merely curiosity. "Yes..." she replied softly, blushing at the
confession. "I desire him."
Christine grinned like a school-girl
over an adorable puppy. "You want
him to come in here and fall on you with passionate kisses, eh?" she
giggled.
Jenny smiled briefly. "You have
no idea how many times I've wished he would."
"Really?" Christine asked
mischievously.
"I want too much from him, I
suppose." Jenny sighed, all traces of hostility gone. "I want him to desire me as well... to
be as desperate for my love as he was... or is... for yours. I don't know... I guess my romantic
expectations are far too high. Is it so
much to ask that he love me just a little like he loved you?"
Christine searched for an answer,
but was cut off. A rap on the door
interrupted their little gossip session.
"Come in, Erik." Christine quickly composed herself.
"Jennifer... you're
awake." Erik noted as he walked in, placing a bowl of hot soup on the
desk. "How do you feel, ma
chere?" he used his now-free hand to stroke Jenny's heated cheek
tenderly.
"Hot." she complained
softly. "And weak."
"It's your fever." he
commented, sitting on the bed with an easy familiarity that was not lost on
Christine. He continued to stroke
Jenny's hair with one hand while the other gently grasped her wrist. "You must get well, cherie... I
need you." he whispered and Christine recognized the huskiness in his
voice.
"No, you don't." Jenny
corrected. "You're self-reliant,
Erik."
"Not so." Erik
reinstated. "I need you to stay
sane; I simply can't go on alone now that I've known how sweet life can be with
another person."
Finally, upon receiving no response,
Erik bent over Jennifer and gave a tender, somewhat lingering kiss on her
fever-warm cheek. "Please, mon
ange... rest and get well."
Silently, he rose and, with a formal nod at Christine, left the room.
"After that, you still believe
he doesn't love you?" Christine demanded.
"He does love me..." Jenny
said wearily. "But as a surrogate
family... not a lover."
"I don't know..."
Christine shook her head. " I've
known Erik longer than you have and... I think he's in love with you...
he probably just doesn't know it himself yet."
"What?" Jenny's eyes
widened instantly. "Why do you say
that?"
"Just subtle hints."
Christine answered. "The
hoarseness of his voice for one thing."
"What's that supposed to
mean?"
"Erik's voice is usually very
clear and resonant... he only sounds like that when he's worried, angry, or...
ahem... aroused."
"Say what?" Jenny laughed
nervously. "He's only worried, I'm
sure."
"I'm not. What about the way he sat on the bed with
you and couldn't keep his hands off of you?" Christine pointed out.
"Well, you're sitting in the
only chair in the room... besides, he was only checking my temperature."
"In your hair and hand?"
"Well..."
"Next sign; the fact that he
came all the way to Raoul's estate to fetch me for you, in the middle of a
snow-storm, bothering only to wear his usual dress. For God's sake, he was soaked to the skin!"
"It's snowing out?" Jenny
asked. "And he chanced an accident
by riding out into it?"
"Yes." Christine
replied. "I think he's in love
with you, Jenny. He just doesn't know
it, yet."
"I don't know..." Jenny's
shoulders sagged. "Why would he
love me, of all people?"
"You saved his life,
Jenny" Christine reminded her.
"He would have died without ever knowing any kind of love if not
for you. Why do you think he's so
anxious for you to get better?"
"So I can get back to cooking for him." Jenny sulked half-seriously.