April 4, 2007

Thank you all for your patience in awaiting the end of this story. Unfortunately, it took me longer to write these last few chapters than I anticipated, thanks to some real-life issues that took precedence over my writing. But good things come to those who wait, and I hope you find this completed version of the epilogue well worth waiting for.

As always, a great big thank you to my friend and beta, Lizzy. She wrote a little "out take" about these characters of mine that I liked so well, I incorporated it into the epilogue. Thank you, Lizzy. Thank you, Readers. And thank you, Reviewers.

HDKingsbury

The Gift
Epilogue (Complete)

One Month Later

In the weeks that followed the birth of Etienne duBois, or Tienne as his parents often called him, life was slowly returning to normalcy in the small household, or at least as normal as life would ever be from this point forward. Christine was pleased to find she was recovering quickly from having given birth for the first time, and was happy not to be suffering from any unpleasant aftereffects. Tienne was, according to his doting grandmére, the most perfect, most contented baby she had ever known. And Erik? Erik was still in a state of euphoria now that his life-long dream had come true, the dream of being a normal husband who was now a normal father of a beautiful child.

-0-0-0-

"Is there anything else you would like me to get while I'm in town?" the nurse asked.

Christine considered for a moment. "No, I can't think of anything, but you might want to check with Mamma. She said something earlier about needing some seasoning for the roast she's preparing for supper."

The nurse, Gaëlle Boterreaux, was a local woman in her late twenties who had been hired temporarily to assist Christine in caring for the baby while the latter was recovering, and to assist the new mother with minor chores around the house. Wishing Christine a good day and promising to be back in plenty of time to help bathe the baby later this afternoon, Gaëlle gave a quick curtsy and headed downstairs to the kitchen, to talk to Anna Valérius before heading to market.

Enjoying a brief respite of quiet, Christine stood in the master bedroom, holding little Etienne in her arms. Rocking him gently, she carried him to the bed and laid him on the coverlet. She smiled at her son, and he blinked and smiled back at her.

"Tienne has the prettiest blue eyes, doesn't he?" she cooed.

He pursed his cupid's bow of a mouth as he stared intently at his mother, fascinated by the brightly patterned shawl draped around her shoulders. A little grin formed on his lips as he tried to reach for a loose lock of his mother's hair that hung down by his face.

"Just like his mamma's eyes, aren't they? But then, I've been told all babies are born with blue eyes. Did you know that, Tienne?"

Etienne made a noise that sounded like a little chortle, and Christine would have sworn that from the expression on his face, he knew exactly what she was saying.

"Well now, we shall just have to wait and see if your eyes stay blue like mine, or if you're going to end up with hazel eyes like your papa."

Tienne blinked again. With his tiny hands waving in front of him, it looked as though he was trying to clap. Then he began to fret and mew, wordlessly entreating his mother to pick him up and hold him. That was all the encouragement Christine needed.

"We've got to be quiet," she said softly. "Your papa's trying to work. He's going to be a famous architect one day, and this project he's working on is the one that will make his reputation. You want your papa to be famous, don't you?" Etienne made a burbling noise. "I'll take that as a yes," Christine said with a chuckle.

Still carrying Etienne, Christine walked over to the rocking chair, past the cradle they'd brought back from Boscherville. She was still amazed at its size, wondering what Absolon duBois had in mind when he built it all those years ago. Not for the first time did she wonder if Erik's father had been expecting triplets. Many times, the two of them had joked about easily fitting a houseful of babies into that one cradle. A wistful smile played across her face as her eyes fell upon the embellishments Erik had added to the bed, admiring the intricate floral designs of wood violets that he had carved into the headboard and along the side panels.

Instead of tucking Etienne into the cradle for his nap, however, she reached down for one of his blankets and tucked the soft woolen cover about him as she sat in the chair, her baby nestled snugly in her arms. From where she was sitting, she had an unimpeded view out the window of the flagstone path that led from the front door of the house to the gate that opened out onto the road. From here, Christine watched Mlle. Boterreaux stride down path as she left for Perros and the market.

"We're going to have to talk to your father about employing Gaëlle full time," she said to herself. She looked down at Etienne as he made a little burping noise. "What? You say you like her, too?"

From the start, Christine had expected Erik to be uncomfortable with a stranger in the house, even if only for a few hours each day. Surprisingly, however, he never once quibbled over the hiring of a nurse. Not once had he made any gesture, spoken or otherwise, indicating anything but acceptance of the woman's presence. In fact, it had been Erik who had first broached the subject of hiring someone to lend a hand around the house. Both Mamma Valérius and Christine were taken completely by surprise when Erik had announced that, as the man of the house, he insisted on a nurse being hired.

"Christine needs to rest and recover from her ordeal," he had explained in a no-nonsense voice that brooked no opposition. "And Mamma, I know that you will most assuredly prefer to spend as much of your time as possible with the baby." He then looked around the spacious new house and pronounced, "There is no doubt whatsoever in my mind that we could use some extra help around here."

Anna had forced a scowl on her face. "Are you suggesting that I'm too old to run my own house?" she demanded, pretending to be offended by her son-in-law's suggestion. Later, Mamma secretly told Christine that she had had her own chuckle at Erik's expense. One day shortly after Erik's announcement about hiring a nurse, Dr. Bret had stopped by to check on his two patients. Mamma said that she inadvertently overheard the doctor admonishing Erik to behave himself and to not even dare try sleeping with his wife until she was fully healed. When told that it could take up to a month, Erik shrugged, trying not to show that he was a little disheartened, and instead said simply, "I really don't need much…sleep."

"He looked so sad," Mamma had told her. "Like a little puppy dog who's lost his beloved mistress."

Christine had scolded Mamma for saying such things, yet she could not resist the urge to laugh as she imagined Mamma keeping guard at the bedroom door, shooing Erik away.

The only thing Christine regretted about having a nurse around the house was that Erik now wore his mask even in the house when she was around. Perhaps in time, she thought, her husband would feel comfortable enough to allow others to see his face uncovered, but she was not about to press the issue. He had come so far, had changed so much, over the past eighteen months, that she was confident it was simply a matter of time.

A little whimper from Etienne brought her mind back to the present. She looked down at him as he blew little bubbles.

"Did I tell you what you father did last night? He is such a dear, sweet man. He even helped change your diapers at night. Now, how many papas would do that?" She rocked the chair, leaning her head against its back as she recalled the previous night.

Erik had been placing a soiled diaper in the pail when she heard him mumble, "I should have threatened them with a room full of dirty diapers."

"Whatever are you talking about?" Christine had asked, puzzled.

Erik had wrinkled his nose and made a snorting sound as he carefully placed the diaper in the pail. "The management at the Garnier," he explained. "With such a threat as this" – he pointed to the diaper pail – "I'm sure they would have eagerly agreed to paying me a much higher salary than 20,000 francs a month."

Christine chucked Etienne under the chin and laughed. "Oh yes, we can see it now, can we not? The Phantom of the Nursery strikes again!"

-0-0-0-

Erik sat at his drafting table. In front of him were rough sketches for several projects he was working on, including several residential dwellings. Down the hall, he could hear Christine talking to the baby. As much as he wanted to spend every waking hour with Christine and Etienne, he knew he had work to do. Heaving a big sigh, he looked back at the blueprints, thankful that much of his work could be done out of the house.

He picked up a straight edge and prepared to add some details to the paper in front of him when he heard Christine singing some kind of children's rhyme. He stopped to listen, smiling in absolute pleasure. Looking back at his desk, Erik was tempted to chuck the floor plans for the new house he had been commissioned to design, but thought better of it. It was a very lucrative commission by a wealthy American couple from New York City who wanted to have a summer cottage (as they called it) in Brittany. Erik was sure this work would receive recognition from more than just the local Perrosians, and would send more commissions his way, which, in turn, would bring with them more income.

Erik gazed about the room, daydreaming. Off to the side of his desk was the mask he kept there, for those times when a neighbor or a client dropped by unexpectedly…or the nurse. He laughed to himself as he realized how easy it had become for him to forget he was not wearing it when in his own home, but dreaded the thought of the nurse catching a glimpse of his uncovered face. He was not quite ready for that. Not yet.

He looked at the calendar. Thursday, March 16, 1882. A chill went down his spine. A year ago, he would not have given a sou for his life. He remembered all too clearly the anger, the frustration and the pain of being caught off guard, and made a prisoner in a lunatic asylum, all at the whim of a certain Vicomte de Chagny, who had been obsessed with Christine. He frowned as he recalled those two weeks in a living hell, when he had all but given up on ever seeing his beloved again. But then, his expression softened as he remembered how Christine, through dogged determination and the aid of two wonderful friends, Anatole Garron and Reynard d'Aubert, was able to arrange his rescue.

He could not help but think of everything that had followed – the long weeks of painful recuperation, the bouts of depression, and finally, the slow realization that this small group of people had accepted him as a fellow human being, and as a friend. There had been frightening times as well, when de Chagny hired a thug by the name of Jean-Claude Fournier and his cohorts to hunt down Christine, kidnap her and destroy Erik, and any others who stood in their way. In the end, however, the small band prevailed over every adversity that had been thrown their way. In the end, Erik and Christine had been wed in the small church in Perros.

Shaking his head, Erik forced himself out of his reverie. Looking down at the blueprints, he realized that his mind was not on his work and decided it was no use pretending otherwise. Instead, he thought of his family. Etienne had celebrated his first month's birthday two days ago, a very special day in his young life. Once again, he heard Christine's voice. Shoving his chair away from the desk, he left the room, seeking the joy and love of his wife and infant son.

He stood for a moment outside the bedroom door as he listened to Christine hum. It was the "Lullaby of the Bells." Erik sighed as he recalled the first time he heard her sing that song, back when he was recovering from his ordeal and his sleep was often troubled. How lovely it was to hear her sing it again, only this time to their newborn son. Stepping inside the room, he saw Christine sitting in the rocking chair, her shawl modestly covering the fact that the bosom of her dress was unbuttoned as Etienne suckled greedily at his mother's breast.

Christine looked up at her husband, her face aglow. "I was wondering how long it would take for you to come and visit us now that the nurse is gone."

-0-0-0-

Over the past month, Christine had become the perfect mother and Erik the perfect father. Such perfect parents were they, that they very nearly forgot all about being a married couple.

Early one morning, while Etienne napped in his cradle, Erik and Christine began to dress as the sun shone bright through the windowpane. He watched as she pinned up her hair, noticing that her blue frock brought out the sparkle in her eyes. She turned to look at herself in the mirror and smiled when she caught Erik watching her in the reflection.

She's rounder than before the pregnancy, he thought as he grinned back at her. Fuller. More womanly. He snapped his braces and pretended to look for his morning coat, all the while watching Christine. He crossed the room and stood behind her as she sat at her vanity table, and gently rested the tips of his fingers on her shoulders.

"Not now, Erik," she said, brushing him away. "Breakfast must be ready. Mamma is expecting us."

Undaunted, he ran the palms of his hands down her arms and leaned over her, whispering in her ear, "I only want to hold you; that's all. I promise."

"Erik, stop whining. Breakfast is waiting. Afterwards, if the baby is resting, perhaps we shall take a quick walk together. On such a beautiful day as this, the baby would enjoy a stroll in the pram. On second thought, you could do that by yourself while I finish getting the nursery ready for him."

"Chris-TEEN! It's been a month since I held you," he said, spinning her around and bringing her into his arms. "I've missed holding you like this," he said, sighing contentedly as she rested her head on his shoulders.

"This does feel rather nice," she admitted, taking a quick glance at the sleeping baby.

"Yes, it does," he agreed, holding her closer.

"You know what would feel even better?" she asked, snuggling against him. "If I were to remove your braces, I'd be much more comfortable. The buttons are gouging me in the stomach."

"Well. We can't have that, now, can we?" he said, swallowing hard.

"No, we can't," she says, loosening his pants. She pursed her pretty little lips seductively. "You know what would make me even more comfortable? If I were to take off my dress, I wouldn't worry about wrinkling it."

"By all means," he whispered, mesmerized by her. "Can't have you worrying about wrinkles."

She pulled the dress over her head, and stood in front of him in only her undergarments. "Erik? You know what would make it ever so much better?" she asked coquettishly, slipping her hand inside his trousers. "If I knew you weren't wrinkling, too."

"I...I assure you, I am not wrinkling. In fact, quite the contrary."

A quiet knock at the door caught their attention. Erik dove under the covers, as Christine pulled on her robe.

"Yes, Mamma?" she said innocently, though the blush in her cheeks gave her away.

Mamma peered at her curiously. "Your breakfast is getting cold," she said simply.

"I think Erik may be coming down with something, Mamma," Christine lied. "I've…I've sent him back to bed."

"Perhaps I should check him," Mamma said, concerned, as she pushed the door open wider.

Erik pulled the covers over his head and turned on his side, away from the door.

"No, no! It wouldn't do if you were exposed to…whatever it is…that's ailing him, now, would it?" Christine sputtered, her face a delicate shade of rose.

Anna Valérius smelled a rat. "I see. Well, in that case," she said adamantly, "perhaps I should send for Dr. Bret. He can be here in no time at all to check on my favorite son-in-law."

"Mamma!" Christine said under her breath. "Must I spell it out for you?" She knit her eyebrows and stared hard at her adoptive mother.

"Oh!" Anna said, pretending to at last understand. "Why didn't you come out and say you'd like some time alone with your husband? It's only natural, you know. You do know that, don't you?" She clucked like a wet hen. "Give Etienne to me."

Without another word, Christine scooped up the sleeping baby and kissed him on the forehead. She handed him over to his Grandmother with a huge grin. "Thank you, Mamma," she said, kissing Anna on the cheek.

"It's time we had a little time alone, too. Just the two of us," Anna said to her grandson, leaning down and kissing his rosebud lips. Christine looked on contentedly as her foster mother took the baby into the nursery, singing gently to him in Swedish as she sat in the rocking chair.

Turning around gaily, Christine looked suspiciously at the pile of blankets on the bed. "Husband?" she asked, poking the pile tentatively.

"That was mortifying," the pile of blankets moaned.

"I thought you only wanted to hold me," she said, pulling down the blankets.

"Holding leads to…kissing, and kissing leads to…other things," Erik pouted.

"Be that way, you old spoil sport. You tuck that blanket under your chin. See if I care," Christine teased. She looked around the room and gazed at the empty cradle. "You know," she said at last, "this is rather nice, having the room all to our selves. It's time Etienne moved into the nursery, don't you agree?"

Erik threw back the covers and sat up. "All the way across the hall? What if he needs us in the night? What if we don't hear him when he cries?"

"If you didn't have ears like a dog, I'd worry. Not even a squeak in the floorboards gets past you."

"That was before I was perpetually sleep deprived. Having a baby has taken off the edge."

"Really?" she said, trailing her fingers down his long torso.

"Um…yes," he said, choking as she encroached on dangerous territory.

"Know what else will take the edge off?" she said, lying alongside him.

"Christine! I only wanted to hold you!" he protested.

"I am only holding you," she purred.

"Oh…Chris-teen," he murmured as she crawled on top of him.

"I've missed you," she said, as she trailed tiny kisses across his forehead.

"I've been right here all along," he said, pulling the pins out and letting down her hair.

"You know what I mean," she said, rocking against him.

"Are you sure you're…you want…to do…this?" Erik asked between kisses, hoping like the dickens her answer would be yes.

"Dr. Bret checked me yesterday. You know that," she said, kissing him harder, with more passion. "I'm fine."

"Still…" he said hesitantly.

"I'm not made of porcelain. I won't break." She pulled her chemise over her head and tossed it away with the rest of her frilly lingerie.

"Oh…Chris-teen," Erik muttered as he struggled with his clothes.

"Oh, Errrrik," she replied, as she freed him from his constraints. She looked puzzled.

"What?" he asked, pausing. He stroked her back as she gathered her thoughts.

"Is it my imagination, or are you wearing fewer clothes than you used to wear?"

"Um…it's spring. The weather is warmer," Erik prevaricated. He intensified his touch.

"It has nothing to do with the fact that it's easier to undress when you have less on, then?"

"Truthfully," he said, kissing her shoulder, "It has everything to do with accessibility."

"Should I be flattered or insulted?"

"If you must know," he said, ceasing his ministrations, "It….it was the baby. He...he spit up on me again," Erik explained, trying to word it delicately.

"Again?"

"I need to talk to the tailor about a few more shirts, that's all," he said, thinking of the ruined pile of new, hand-tailored lawn shirts in the laundry.

"Erik?" Christine said, as she took his hand in hers.

"Yes, my love?"

"Must we talk about the baby vomiting right now?"

"Certainly not," he said, smiling. "There are many far, far more pleasant ways to focus our attention."

She thought quietly a moment, before whispering, "Show me."

Erik's face lit up at the prospect. "As you wish," he said, turning her onto her side. He kissed her ribs, her belly, and lingered over her hips. Reaching behind her, he pressed the base of her spine ever so lightly with his middle finger, and raised his eyebrows as she shivered with a frisson of delight.

She felt like putty in his hands as her passion deepened. She rolled onto her stomach and he followed, kissing her neck and her back as he pressed against her. He reached across her and opened the drawer of the nightstand, taking out a small, dark vial.

"Essence of ambre gris," he said, as he poured the waxy liquid on his hands and rubbed them together to warm them before touching Christine. "Some say it is the most effective aphrodisiac known to man."

"Lovely fragrance," Christine whispered, as the aroma wafted around them. "Is this something else you learned about in your travels? Where does it come from?"

"It's whale vomit," Erik chuckled.

"You really know how to spark the mood, don't you? Enough vomitus talk for one day," she growled.

Erik chuckled in reply. He touched Christine wherever she wanted to be touched, avoiding the places that seemed sensitive and paused to kiss her whenever she started to speak. Since words had failed him, he let his hands talk for him, caressing her with his fingers, his palms, and then his lips.

When she was thoroughly relaxed, she took the vial from Erik and began to reciprocate, massaging the oil into his muscles. She adored the way he reveled in her touch, pushing himself against her hands as she touched him. He could not get close enough to her. She massaged him in his most private places, driving him to his limits.

They kissed deeply as she sat atop Erik, and he opened his eyes wide as she guided him to her. He was careful, attentive to her every comfort, and let her set the pace.

"Open your eyes, Christine," he said softly. "I need to see you, to be sure…"

"You feel wonderful," she said, quickening her pace as she met his gaze.

"That's it," he said, clasping her hips tightly as she began to let go.

"I…I…oh! Erik!" she cried, collapsing over him.

"Rest," he said simply, as he kissed her temple. He wrapped his arms around her and flexed the muscles that let her know he was still eager for her. She shifted her position, pulling him with her as they lay face-to-face on their sides.

"Christine, no," he said, when he felt her stirring again. "It isn't necessary."

"It is so," she said, moving rhythmically. She reached behind him and touched him the way he had touched her earlier, and smiled when he responded by quickening their pace.

In no time, she felt the tightness increasing in her own center. "Husband," she cried, as she felt herself shattering like petals in the wind.

He groaned as he came in wave after wave of pure pleasure. He felt boneless and weightless, as he lay beside his wife. She brushed the hair away from his face, and he kissed her lips tenderly as he told her that he loved her.

She reached for the vial of ambre gris that was tangled in the sheets beside them. "Where did you get this?" she asked.

He blushed. "It's…it was in my medicine cabinet at the lake house."

"Why did you have it at the lake house, Erik?" she asked with a scowl, adding skeptically, "Medicinal ambre gris?"

"It was a gift," he said nervously. "I've had it for decades. You saw me open it yourself! I've never used it before." He looked at the door as though he might have to make a run for it.

Christine took note of his discomfort with a sense of satisfaction. "You dear, sweet, silly man!" she said finally, hugging him tightly. "I only wanted to know if you could get more of it."

He relaxed as she touched him again, in his most private places. "I'm sure it can be arranged, my love," he said, grinning boldly.

-0-0-0-

Sunday, March 26, 1882

Erik stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his cravat repeatedly as he readied himself for church. He had been attending church regularly these days, primarily to listen to Christine when she sang in the choir, but today was more special than most. Today was little Etienne's baptismal day.

Look at yourself, Erik. Here you are, putting on your Sunday best. Who would ever have believed you would one day be doing this?

"What are you scowling about?" Christine called out from across the room, wearing the dress made of the blue silk they had bought in Rouen. Erik admired how it looked on her, with its accents of handmade lace also purchased on their honeymoon. She strolled over to his side. "Why such a long face on this fine Sunday morning? This is a day of celebration, not someone's funeral."

Erik made a face, dissatisfied with how the cravat looked. "Easy for you to say," he mumbled under his breath as he put on his hairpiece and adjusted his mask. He wanted to look his absolute best. This was going to be one of the most important days of his life, ranking up there with his marriage to Christine, and the birth of their son.

Christine grinned and shook her head. "Erik, sometimes I think you grumble just for the sake of grumbling." Noticing the crooked cravat, she straightened it, finishing with a quick tug on his lapels and a peck on the cheek. "You look fine," she said reassuringly. To her, he always looked fine, when he dressed formally? Her heart skipped a beat as she looked at him, certain that she was falling in love with her husband all over again.

"Look at me," he said with a crooked grin on his face. "Here I am, a respectable member of the community, preparing to accompany my family to church, to see my firstborn child baptized. It's rather funny, don't you agree?"

"Why do you think this is funny," she said with a little scowl, concerned that Erik might be slipping into one of his dark moods.

She was relieved when he explained, "I didn't mean funny as in humorous. I meant funny, as in ironic. Don't fuss so," he said, placing his hands on her upper arms and pulling her in for a quick kiss. "I'm not being glum. On the contrary, I am extremely happy. Now, shouldn't we finish getting ready so we don't keep our guest waiting? Mlle. Boterreaux has Etienne ready in all his finery, and the two of them are down in the parlor with everyone else."

This was, indeed, a special day, not just because it was Etienne's christening day, but because it brought together a small but very loyal group of friends. There was Anatole Garron, principal baritone at the Garnier. He had come from Paris with his companion, Carlotta García Ramírez de Arroyo y Contreras, known more simply to the Parisian opera-going public as "La Carlotta." During the horrific events of the previous year, Anatole had been at Christine's side, like an older brother, brave and stout of heart.

Also present were retired detective Reynard d'Aubert and his wife Justine. It had been Reynard, with his insider's knowledge of the Sûreté, who had masterminded Erik's escape from the asylum. Thanks to Christine's gentle influences, Reynard had been reintroduced to his former love, Justine Sorelli, formerly known as La Sorelli, prima ballerina of the Paris Opera. The two of them had married shortly after Erik and Christine had, and had retired to the village of Louveciennes.

At the moment, they were waiting in the parlor with Mamma and the nurse, Mlle. Gaëlle Boterreaux, admiring the newest member of the duBois family as they waited for Erik, Christine. They would all be going to church in the new carriage Erik had bought shortly after Etienne's birth.

"But…shouldn't we ask Mamma to be the baby's godmother?" Erik had asked Christine when the subject first came up.

"No," she explained, remembering that Erik had little experience when it came to such church-related traditions. "A godparent is generally someone outside the family, someone who is about the same age as the parents and who vows to takes responsibility for the child's religious education. Sometimes a godparent agrees to aid in the raising of the child – should something happen to the parents."

With a better understanding of the purpose of godparents, Erik immediately came up with the idea of writing to their three closest friends to ask if they would sponsor their child at his baptism. The answer was an immediate and unanimous yes.

Satisfied at last with their attire, Erik and Christine joined the others in the parlor.

"Christine, will you look at what Gaëlle made for the baby?" Mamma exclaimed as they entered the room.

The nurse smiled and blushed. "It…it is nothing," she said softly as Mamma showed off the quilted cape Gaëlle had made to go with Etienne christening ensemble. "I wanted to make something special for the baby. I…I feel like a part of this family."

"Oh, but you are!" Christine said as she hugged Gaëlle. Taking Etienne from Mamma's arms, she called to her husband. "Look at him Erik," she said as she cradled him in her arms. "He's just like his father…cape and all."

Erik rolled his eyes and laughed. "I think it's time we left for church," was all he could think to say.

-0-0-0-

At the church of Notre Dame de la Clarté, in the village of Perros-Guirec, Carlotta, Mamma Valérius, Mamma's beau, Alan Kerjean, Gaëlle Boterreaux, Dr. Visant Bret and his daughter Manon were all sitting together in the front pews, closest to the altar, as the parents and godparents stepped up to the baptismal font. Etienne was wrapped in the carré, the cloth that was held over Erik and Christine's heads when they were married in the same church. It was part of the Breton tradition, as was the nice, big fireplace in the church over which the water was warmed before being placed in the font, so that it would not be icy cold and distress the infant.

Throughout the service, little Tienne stared quietly at the priest, fascinated by all the sights and sounds around him. His little eyes watched in wonder as the candles flickered on the altar, and gazed at the multi-colored light that shone in through the leaded glass windows. He was fascinated by the priest's vestments, the music that wafted down from the organ loft, and the faces looking down on him, especially those of his mother and father. As the priest carefully poured the tepid water over his little head, Tienne practically cooed, bringing a smile to the priest's face. The Father nodded back at Tienne, and then at the baby's parents, assured that this is a good sign.

-0-0-0-

Back at Mamma's house, the dinner table had been set out with a christening feast. Toasts were made to the proud new mother and father, and to the greatest gift of all – a new life.

However, as it turned out, those sitting at the table felt there was more than one "gift" with them this day.

Erik turned to Anna, and told here that she was as much a gift in his life as any of the others, that she had become the mother he always dreamed of having. He looked out over the table, at his new friends – Anatole, Reynard, Justine – and thanked them all for their friendship. Catching the way Anna was glancing across the room at Alan Kerjean, he thought to himself that if things were to go the way he and Christine suspected they might, there could also be a father figure down the road as well.

"But...," said Christine, "what if you, Erik, are the ultimate gift?"

This, of course flustered Erik. How can he possibly be considered a gift?

Anna smiled at him. "You say I am like the mother you always wished for. And I say that you are the son I always wished I had."

"You are the husband I have always wanted, always dreamed of having," added Christine. "I shudder to think what might have happened had we not met at the opera house."

Reynard and Justine held hands. "Justine and I would never have gotten back together, would never have married, if not for you," Reynard said, kissing his wife's hand for emphasis.

Anatole beamed at Carlotta, then turned to Erik, "You reminded me that there is always more beneath the surface."

Carlotta nodded in agreement. "If not for you, I might not have given Anatole a second chance."

"The citizens of Perros also think of you as a gift," added Alan Kerjean. "Not only are you their local hero for having saved Mamma and the others from Fournier and his thugs, but you brought a small boom to the local economy through the extra income from construction. They have seen what you've done with Anna's new house and the other projects you have been working on. They are eager to see what else this genius architect will design for their town."

Erik could think of nothing to say, humbled and overjoyed by turns at this praise. He discreetly wiped a tear from his eye as they raised their glasses in a toast, all agreeing that the world was a better place because Erik duBois was part of it.

-0-0-0-

The End