The Phantom Diaries (4 page)

When Eric arrived the following night with the sheets to every song Adelle sang, I was stunned and excited.

“This piano won’t do,” he calmly said.

He reached for my hand and led me down a corridor. A stairwell opened up at the end and we descended down the spiral in virtual darkness.

“Where are we going?” Logic told me to be fearful, but all I could feel was excitement.

Ignoring my question he led me through a series of tunnels. Before long I felt lost and hoped he would recall the way back to the Opera House.

The final tunnel gave way to a dimly lit corridor with pretty French doors at the right. With a grand gesture, Eric pushed both doors back. “This is the piano worthy of the rich tones of your voice.”

A grand piano, black and glimmering in the faint glow of the surrounding torches mounted on the wall, stood in the center of the room. The room was simple, but elegant with two Louis XVI chairs set in expectation near the piano. An exquisite tapestry depicting the emergence of spring around an elaborate chateau covered the far wall, while an oil painting of Parisian life faced it.

He thrust the pile of music sheets onto the piano and rummaged through them.

“How did you get all this?”

He again ignored my question, found the song he’d been looking for and settled at the piano. His eyes directed me to come behind him. I was immediately struck by the number of notes that dotted the staff in quick succession and with rapid variations.

I struggled with the first few intricate notes and had to start over three times. I then stumbled through the first verse and when the melody climaxed, I choked.

“I can’t hit that note.”

“You can,” he said simply.

We tried again and again and again.

“You’re letting your nerves win.” He stood and put his hands to my shoulders and his steady gaze to my eyes. “Close your eyes.”

After a moment’s hesitation, I did.

“This is a song of pain, heartache and betrayal,” he said in a soft and tortured tone. “Have you ever been betrayed, Annette?”

My heart went back to my childhood, carefree and easy. Loved by my parents, well liked in school and with a long line of interested suitors in high school, I’d never been through the kind of the pain the song spoke of. “No.”

“Imagine a love so strong, a love so powerful and profound that your thoughts are consumed by each pounding of your heart. Imagine each breath lingering on the air to be swept by your lover. Feel his touch across your skin and taste his lips.”

The heat in the small room increased as he moved closer. My lashes fluttered as I struggled to keep my eyes closed.

“Lay with him night after night and fill your heart with the future that awaits you. Make plans that intertwine your dreams with his aspirations. Envision him at your side until you can’t imagine what life without him would be.”

I nodded, and let him be the object of these imaginings. The very notion of waking at his side every morning brought a twitch of a smile to my lips.

“Do you feel the love?” His words were almost a song, low, heavy and thrilling.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Do you feel secure and warm?”

“Yes.”

With savage force he pushed me away and I slammed into the wall behind me. My eyes flew open and the dim light revealed the anger in his eyes.

“What do you feel now?” he demanded.

I just stared and fought the tears that burned their way up my throat.

“What do you feel?” he shouted.

“Cold,” I muttered.

“Just cold?”

“Cold and alone.
 
Frightened.”

Without another word, he turned to the piano and resumed his seat. “Sing,” he commanded as a finger hit the first note.

My lips parted, my throat opened and a heavenly note emerged. The first verse flowed through me, the words catching on my heart and bringing fresh tears to my eyes. And the climax. I had no time to think of whether I could hit it or not, I could just feel.

The note, high, clear and strong, rang out and echoed on the high ceiling.

Eric’s fingers pounded the keys with the pain I felt, with the pain I sang of. I knew he was no longer really there, just as I felt I’d be elevated to another place. Solace was found in knowing that we were going to this other place together, if perhaps for different reasons.

Chapter 5

November 2
^nd
, 2009

Dear Diary,

Eric has touched something deep inside me, something I didn’t even know I had. He has offered to give me more lessons, despite the fact that I’m unable to pay him for his time. His love of this music is contagious and I want to do every note justice. He seems confident in my abilities and his confidence helps build up mine. Somehow, I feel I would be letting him down were I to give up.

It’s strange. He’s strange, but in an appealing way. I dreamt of him again and I awoke with a hunger I’ve never felt before.

Eric’s coaching intensified over the next few weeks and his enthusiasm had become the most important aspect of the increased confidence. While the pragmatic and humble side of me refused to believe I could really pull this off, the artist in me, the dreamer in me and the woman Eric seemed to see was believing it more and more.

“Why are you so unsure of yourself?” he asked after my fourth attempt at the finale. It was a huge song that left me feeling smaller every time I attempted it. “You know you have the voice, and I know you have the passion. Why are you holding back?”

He’d closed the piano and set his elbow on it in a relaxed pose.

“Why do you always wear that mask?” I asked.

His brow rose in surprise, but he offered nothing.

“Maybe my insecurities and uncertainties are the mask I hide behind, while you wear yours plainly on your face.”

He showed another spark of surprise, but only for a moment. “I thought women enjoyed mystery.”

It was my turn to cock a brow. “Touché.” I couldn’t deny the effect the mask had on me. In addition to everything that was peculiar and exciting about my time with him, seeing only half of his handsome face left me constantly eager to see more.

I glanced at the music sheets at the piano and remembered my first singing classes. The enthusiasm and confidence I’d naively displayed had been quickly dashed. “A few years ago I was supposed to sing in a play at school. Eileen, my cousin and nemesis, was upset she’d not been asked to sing. Just before going on stage, she berated me and told me I’d only been asked to sing because I was…”

“Beautiful,” he finished for me.

I nodded.

“There’s no shame in realizing one’s own beauty.”

I shrugged off his comment and continued. “She said my voice was shrill and irritating and that Mr. Roach, the music teacher, had only put me in the show out of pity. By the time I got on stage, my throat was paralyzed with a lump of tears. I tried to swallow, but couldn’t. And when the music began, I panicked. All those people were out there in the auditorium, just waiting for me to sing, expecting so much.
 
It was awful. I was awful. I never sang in front of people again.”

“It’s time to get past that and move on.”

I pushed the pain of that night aside and looked up at Eric. His compassion for my story was touching and I suddenly wanted to reach out to touch him. “Why are you doing this?” I asked as I clamped my hands together. “Why are you helping me?”

“A true love of fine music, I guess.” He seemed so sincere and wise, I knew his heart was in the right place. “Having heard Marie put her false emotions into the music for the past months, it’s refreshing to hear how the songs were really meant to be interpreted.

“I’ve always felt music was the best way to express oneself,” he continued. “It has always been a part of me. I think it’s a part of you as well, you just have to believe it.”

“You know this music so well, and you play it with such intensity. It’s almost as if you wrote it yourself. Where do you find the passion?”

“I know the pain of which the music speaks.”

“You seem too young to know so much about these strong emotions.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

I immediately flustered and knew he was aware of it. He reached up to touch my cheek and I was shocked by the sensation his fingers created.

“How can one so beautiful not know such stirrings of the heart?”

“I’ve always worked; always helped my mom. I guess I just never had the time.”

“My one true love, Kristine, left me on the verge of insanity. It’s a far more powerful emotion than one can imagine. Kristine was almost as beautiful as you are and just as enchanting.”

“She hurt you?”

“Love can be painful enough to leave you fleeing all that you hold dear. I left Paris and came to New York soon after.”

“Paris? How romantic.”

He grinned, but was obviously pained by the emotions his memories left him with. “My only love now is the music and my only concern is assuring this opera conveys the notes, the heart and the soul it was meant to express.”

“I’m just not sure…”

His eyes hardened and his lips tightened. He got to his feet and stood just inches away from me. My eyes went to the piano, now closed and silent.

Eric’s strong fingers caressed my cheek, and took a firm grasp of my chin, pulling my attention up to his eyes. “The time for insecurities and doubts has passed. This is not a school play and I’m not your jealous cousin. I know the music. I know the emotion each note and word is meant to evoke. And I know that you are the one who can bring each song to life.”

Unable to hold his gaze, I glanced sidelong at the piano.

“Have I given you any reason to believe that I do not know the heart of this music?”

“No.
 
On the contrary.”

“Then, trust me.”

Chapter 6

November 17th, 2009

Dear Diary,

New York is splendid and every day is a discovery. Central Park is a far cry from the bayous, but it has a charm that is irresistible. The temperatures have already dipped down more than I’m accustomed to, but I’m looking forward to the new season to come.

No replacement has been found yet for Marie, and I’m beginning to feel a surge of hope at my chances of actually winning the part. My voice is growing stronger every day, as is the tension between Eric and me. I know he has no romantic interest in me, but my dreams continue to put us in romantic scenarios night after night.

It’s ridiculous and adolescent, I know. But how am I to control my dreams?

With a blanket draped over Chace’s shoulder and a basket of goodies hanging on my arm, we headed to the heart of Central Park to catch an outdoor concert. I had no idea who was playing or what they’d be playing, but it didn’t matter. Chace had me laughing all the way and it was just nice spending time with him.

The differences between the halo of light that consistently rayed about Chace and the doom of darkness that shrouded Eric left me wondering how I could find such distinctive looks and personalities equally appealing.

In the darkness that forever accompanied Eric, I felt small as I constantly looked to him for guidance and wisdom.

But with Chace; we were like two new, shiny green peas discovering the great expanse of this huge pod. He had a childlike curiosity for everything the city had to offer and he dragged me along on his quest to learn more. I giggled like a child, laughed until my stomach cramped and, at times, howled so loud, walkers-by turned to me in wonder.

“This good?” Chace stopped at a sunny, grassy spot near The Lake and let the blanket fall to the ground. “We can move closer to the stage after we eat.”

“Perfect.” I set the basket down and took up the far corner of the blanket.

Though our stroll through the park had been peppered with interesting bits of conversation, now that we’d settled down, that sense of tension I’d felt with him the night of the movie returned.