Mariee Chapter 7

Vespers is the sixth canonical hour of the day. The prayers mark the end of the day's tasks and obligations. The prayers are peaceful, and are intended to turn the faithful to contemplation. The service may or may not be fulfilled with a Mass. Tonight, Father Genesius, a Franciscan father recently returned from missionary work in Cote d'Ivoire, would be celebrating his first Mass in France in twenty years.

Christine ran through the convent's dim hallways. She passed one sister, then another, always asking, "Have you seen Sister Therese?". But the sisters shook their heads. At last, Christine found a postulant scrubbing the convent's steps. Out of breath, her chest heaving, Christine spat out the words, "Sister…Therese…where?" The postulant raised her scrub brush and pointed toward the convent's chapel.

Sister Therese was assisting Father Genesius to prepare for the Mass. She laid a beautiful cloth of green and gold over the altar, and then draped it with swags of almond blossoms. "Hello, my child," Sister Therese smiled in greeting. "I wanted your first Mass here to be especially lovely."

"Sister, I know what I must do. But it has to be now!" Christine was still breathless, with exhaustion and audacity. "Calm down, child," the little nun admonished.

"I can't! And you have to help me. At once!" Christine couldn't believe that she was ordering the prioress, but there was so little time…

On the way from the chapel to Christine's room, the girl unburdened herself completely to Sister Therese. The entire saga of the Phantom of the Opera was encapsulated in five minutes as they hurried. The Mother Superior was giddy with the romance of it all.

"So you see, dear Sister, I have to do this right now." Sister Therese concurred, her heart in her throat. "Will you go to him and somehow get him to the chapel? That's all I'm asking of you." Christine waited, hardly daring to hope that her plan would be acceptable to the prioress.

"Of course, my dear girl." The sister turned to leave. "Oh, wait!" Christine exclaimed. "I can't do it looking like this. Can you open the back of this horrible dress, please? I'll just have to use one of the dresses in the wardrobe…"

Sister Therese began to undo the tiny buttons at the neck of the pearl-encrusted gown. She began to smile. "You know, Christine, I may have something better for you, if you don't mind it being from a long time ago."

Sister Therese was not accustomed to the sights and smells of the stable. She wrinkled her nose a little at the scents of horse and hay. Erik nodded quickly to her as he finished forking hay into the stalls for his horses. He does cut a fine figure, the little nun thought to herself. Thirty years ago, I would have had a great deal more to repent.

"Maestro Erik, are you busy?" Sister Therese nervously began.

"Not any more, sister. My horses will rest well, thanks to your hospitality." He drew himself up. What could the prioress want?

"I must ask your indulgence, Maestro. You are a maestro, aren't you?" Sister Therese took Erik's large hand into her small one and began tugging him toward the convent. "Well, we seem to have a problem with our little choir."

Erik longed to pull his hand away, but the little nun had him in a vise-grip. "A problem, Sister?"

"Yes, they never sound right. Can you listen to our Vesper service and tell me what is the matter? I would be so grateful." She continued to inexorably drag Erik toward the chapel; very much in the way a tiny tugboat pulls a mighty ship into the harbor.

"How can I refuse in the face of such insistence, Sister?" If he weren't in the sanctuary itself, he would have had a hard time not to laugh at the nun's determination.

Sister Therese stood Erik right at the altar. Father Genesius gave him a jovial smile and a jaunty wink. Strange, Erik thought to himself, and then put all his concentration into the performance of the convent's earnest choir.

Erik listened for a minute, then frowned. He motioned for Sister Therese to draw close.

"One of your altos is tone deaf. I suggest that she offers only silent devotions from now on." Sister Therese nodded sagely. "Is there anything else, my son?"

"The soprano on the end has been getting into the brandy. Now sister, please excuse me. I am not a religious man—Oh my God!"

The chapel door swung open. The late afternoon sun was butter yellow as it flooded the chapel. A slim figure was silhouetted in the archway. Erik's acutely sharp eyesight told him in a heartbeat who it was.

Christine was wearing a simple linen bridal gown; the very one Sister Therese wore when she took her vows as a Bride of Christ so long ago. She carried a sprig of almond blossoms in her hand. They trembled as she stood and gazed at the man she loved.

She put two fingers over her heart, then pointed to Erik." I choose you," she mouthed. And waited.

Time stopped for the second time this day. Only now, Christine felt as though everything was enlarging. Erik filled her eyes and music filled her heart. She saw a life of joy ahead of her, a blessed life with a man who accepted her and would surely die for her. She seemed to hear her children's laughter; children who would be adored and cherished as priceless gifts, the seal upon their love.

And always, always music for their souls.

Erik steadied himself on the altar. "This is her choice," he thought in wonder. "I am her choice."

Erik nodded and extended his hands to Christine. The bride picked up her skirt and began to run. Christine felt like she was floating, no, flying, as she ran down the aisle and into Erik's arms.