Hopeful Soul: A Phantom Story

Chapter Forty-Eight.

ERIK:

Christine looked on happily as the men had moved the last of our things into our new abode. I then realized that we did not have much - as some areas of the new house were entirely bare. The smell of the fresh wood floor was quite amazing, though and I had yet to tell Christine that I was the one to build it. We had moved into my childhood home partly because it wasn't yet finished, but now that it was - and we had a family on the way - it was perfect.

I chose the location by a brook to help remind her of her home in Sweden, about which she cried for thirty minutes. We stepped into our new family room, finished with cherry wood floors, scarlet red walls and adorned with a gold, marble fireplace. The furniture from the red room in the underground blended right in and my samovar even rested in the corner of the mantle, in the background to Christine's bridal portrait. She stood proud in the room, turning to me for a long-awaited embrace, "I take it you like it here."

"It's beautiful," she glanced about, tears brimming in the corners of her eyes, "You built it, didn't you?"

With a laugh, I answered, "How did you guess?"

"The family room is so similar to the red room."

I shrug, resting my hand on her now five-month swollen stomach. Our child moves and she grins in response, "I need a nibble of something. I shall be back."

Before going into the kitchen she granted me a soft kiss. I went into the large room that was joined to the family room, where my organ - along with a violin I had taken from my former underground place - had been resting. Looking out the window upon the white seat, I found the springtime end with rain and felt at ease as a warm breeze blew inside. Christine stepped into the room, swallowing the rest of her snack, and glanced over at my violin which rested on its side on the organ. She began to weep again and I could not identify the cause to her tears this time, only comforting her, "I'm sorry," said she, wiping her eyes, "I haven't an idea what came over me."

"It is alright, my love. Here," I plucked the handkerchief from the fold of her skirt and dabbed at her cheeks, "A pretty lady shouldn't cry."

She smiled at me, then took the handkerchief and wiped her nose. Christine stood by me, staring mindlessly at the violin, "Y- you play?"

"I sing within two vocal ranges and play five instruments. Violin is a must to any talented musician."

She caressed over its body with her fingertips as if connecting to her past - her father is why she cried. An idea suddenly came to mind, something to distract her from sorrow. I went to the phonograph, a relatively new device which sat to the left of my grand organ, and pulled out a Strauss record, "Have you heard of a phonograph, Christine?"

"Not necessarily."

I laughed, setting the record into the turntable, "Well, the device plays music and there are only a few records available. Since I am blessed enough to conduct an orchestra, I get one of the many new recordings."

Putting up the reproducer and turning the crank, Strauss' Waltz Wiener Blut followed a few moments of static. She lit up at the soft introduction, "Strauss!"

With a nod, I held out my right hand, "We did not have a proper wedding dance and I am sorry for that. But would you care to dance now?"

She accepted my hand and we began to waltz at the soothing melody, beginning on a sharp F. Christine smiled at me as we twirled about, her hand warm to mine and her - even though she was swollen my child - remained a lovely, womanly divit under my palm. Our dance put into light just how lucky I was to have a woman as beautiful and as sweet as her, "I never thought you could dance."

"As I have said before, there are many things you do not know about me."

She laughed, our bodies inching closer as the waltz speed up to its end. A kiss brought us even closer until I felt a subtle movement from Christine - from our child. I laughed, "Relentless, this one. He may get in our way."

"Get in our way?"

She released my hand and I realized how I just said that. A sigh escaped my lips and I attempted an apology, "Christine, I am sorry. You know I did not mean it that way."

"No. No, I know what you mean."

She rushed away, though I knew she hadn't the slightest idea where she was going. I stopped the phonograph and went after her, though she was stubborn about being away from me as she began to weep again - a sight that distressed me so, "Christine, please!"

"I do not wish to speak to you!"

Though the thought of a beautiful baby was heartwarming, her entire pregnancy was the most irritating thing to ever have existed - and it was only month five! I rushed up the staircase after her and she went into the watercloset, her weeping audible from the hall, "Christine-"

"No! You are the most awful person I have ever met! To think our love life is more important than your child growing within me!"

"Christine, you know they are equal to me."

"You are lying!"

"Oh, Christine," I leaned against the door, messing with my thumbs until an idea to play with her hormones came to mind, "Darling?"

"What do you what?"

She sounded terrible and I felt that perhaps playing with her like this would be helpful to her moods, "Would you like it if I bought you chocolates?"

I removed myself from the door and she opened it, stepping outside. Christine wiped her tears, laughing at her own tantrum, "You would do that for me? Aren't they expensive?"

"No amount of money is too much for you, Christine. Besides, I will make it again."

She laughed and we embraced each other for what was one of many of the day. I was only glad to know that I had been forgiven.