PHANTOM IN TIME (45 page)

“
Chérie,
when you left me this last time, I was so scared,” Jacques murmured against
Bella's hair. “Did you return to the present once again?”

“Yes.”

“Were
you with your grandmother?”

“Yes,”
she whispered tremulously.

He
stroked her spine. “How is she, love?”

Bella's
stark gaze met his. “Failing fast, I'm afraid. Particularly now that I've left
her again to be here with you—where she insisted I must go.”

“Bless
her,” whispered Jacques. His arms tightened around her. “I knew you had gone
back to be with her. Indeed, this last time I glimpsed you being swept away
into the kaleidoscope.”

She
twisted around to better see his face. “Did you?”

He
nodded solemnly. “I thought I had lost you forever.”

She
smiled. “You haven't lost me.”

He
tenderly kissed her. “I know,
ma
chère.
I believe only a miracle
could have brought you back to me tonight. Now we'll have the rest of our lives
to celebrate that miracle—and to sing our hearts out.”

At
his sober words, Bella sat up. “I'm not so sure, Jacques. I still have doubts
about committing my life to the opera.”

He
sat up beside her, clutching her hand. “But you have such a gift, Bella.”

She
nodded, though her expression remained troubled. “That may be true, but it was
my talent that provoked Maria's jealousy and almost got us both killed.”

Jacques
heaved a great sigh. “It pains me to realize Maria must have come to hate us
both so.”

Bella
gazed at him compassionately. “That's right, she tried to hurt you, too—but she
despised me most of all.”

“Still,
should you abandon your destiny simply because one demented diva became
insanely jealous of you?”

“Can
you guarantee it won't happen again, that you and I will be able to make this
work?”

“Bella,
I cannot give you ironclad guarantees. These are matters that must be accepted
on faith. You're going to have to trust me, to believe in our love, in the
destiny that brought you across time to me.”

“I'm
trying to, Jacques.”

He
smiled, brushing a wisp of hair from her eyes. “And perhaps when you meet the
Blooms on Saturday you'll change your mind about our future. I've heard both
their careers and their marriage are very harmonious.”

Half
amused by his double entendre, Bella stood, moving off to gaze out the French
doors. She felt as if she were searching for an answer that still eluded her.
“The same may not be true for us, Jacques.”

He
approached her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “If that's the way you
feel, I'll give up the opera for you.”

She
whirled to face him. “Jacques, I can't ask you to make that sort of grand
sacrifice, to abandon your dream!”

“But
I love you, Bella,” he said, taking one of her hands and kissing it. “You
matter more to me than anything else.”

“I
love you, too,” she replied, her expression exquisitely torn. “You may think
you can give up everything for me, but I know you better. If you left the
opera, resentment would always be there, festering between us.”

He
gestured in resignation. “Then where does that leave us, Bella?”

She was
silent for a long moment, lost in troubled thought. She remembered all the
things Gran and Jacques had said to her over the past weeks, everything that
had happened to her and Jacques, how their love had transcended time, survived
death. To think she had almost lost Jacques—almost lost him forever!

At
last, with bittersweet tears stinging her eyes, Bella spoke. “You know,
Jacques, I've learned much since I've been here with you. Both times that I
turned away from you, and turned away from the opera, I found myself back in
the present.”

“That's
true, Bella. What do you think it means?”

“Perhaps
Gran was right when she said the answers to my life and my destiny lie here
with you. This afternoon Gran warned me that fear is my worst enemy. Perhaps I
am meant to try to overcome my phobia, to give your dream for us, and the
opera, a chance.”

His
eyes lit with joy. “Oh, Bella, do you really mean it?”

She
held up a hand in caution. “What I mean is, I'll try, Jacques. Perhaps I'll
falter, or even fall flat on my face, but I'm willing to give it a chance.”

“What
more can I ask?” he cried exultantly. “I know in time you'll see that you truly
love the opera.”

She
gazed at him in awe. “That's what Gran always said. You know, for most of my
life I resented the opera because it took my parents away from me and made them
so unhappy. But I think my anger and fear blinded me to all the things I love
about it—the high drama, the wonderful music, the way one can communicate
emotion to another through song. That first night when I sang for you, Jacques,
I felt joy flooding my heart such as I'd never known before. I think my singing
became an expression of my love for you. But I was too scared to fully
recognize this.”

“Oh,
Bella.” Jacques drew her close, kissing and caressing her. “I'm so delighted
that you're willing to give my way a try. And I promise you we'll find time for
each other and for our children, that the opera will be a positive force in our
lives, never an obsession. I vow that if circumstances should ever change, if
the opera ever threatens our marriage or our family, we'll both leave it at
once.”

“I
agree,” said Bella.

He
cupped her chin in his hands and gazed down at her in delight. “Are you happy?”

“Yes.”
A little sigh escaped her. “I only regret that I never sang for Gran.”

Gallantly,
Jacques replied, “Then we shall both sing for her,
ma belle
.”

“What
do you mean?” she asked, intrigued.

He
grinned in the confident manner she loved so much. “Why, we'll go through your
kaleidoscope together and serenade your grandmother.”

“But
how?”

He
shrugged. “The magic has worked for you, no? Why won't it work for us both?”

It
was a fascinating notion, Bella thought with burgeoning excitement. Then fear
pricked her bubble of elation, and she regarded Jacques anxiously. “But what if
we lose each other? Weren't you afraid of that before?”

“And
didn't your grandmother wisely warn you, really warn us both, that fear is our
worst enemy? Bella, we shall never lose each other. It is our destiny to be
together, and to sing our hearts out all over the world.”

“Oh,
Jacques, I pray you're right.”

“I
know I am.” He drew back and began unbuttoning her dress, while his eyes burned
with desire for her. “Now, no more talking,
ma belle.
It is time for our
bodies to sing a serenade of our love . . .”

Chapter Forty-two

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On
Friday evening, Bella sat at her dressing table at the theater. She wore a
frilly white blouse and a long skirt; Gran's brooch was pinned at her throat.

As she
put on makeup for that night's performance, she thought of all that had
transpired over the past few days. Yesterday afternoon she and Jacques had
attended Maria Fortune's funeral, a somber occasion that had brought together
the entire opera company. Bella had felt relieved and touched when Claude
Fortune had come up to her afterward and apologized for initially blaming her
for his wife's death. Tearfully, Claude had admitted that Maria had been an
emotionally unstable woman whose obsessions had ultimately destroyed her. Bella
had thanked Claude and extended her deepest sympathies.

Earlier
today, Jacques and Bella had attended the coroner's inquest, which had been
mercifully brief. Responsibility for Maria's death had been laid squarely on
her own shoulders, and Toby's actions to defend Bella and Jacques had been
ruled justifiable.

Tomorrow
night the famous Bloom couple would appear at the St. Charles, and Etienne
would also announce Jacques and Bella's betrothal at the soiree he would host
afterward. Their wedding would follow in only three weeks' time, as soon as
Kaleidoscope's
run ended. Jacques planned to take Bella on an extended honeymoon to Europe.

Thus
the loose ends in Bella’s and Jacques's lives were rapidly becoming wound up.
Bella was looking forward to living with her dashing husband during an exciting
time in world history. Tonight she and Jacques would attempt to address a final
and emotional issue of unresolved business—they would try to sing for Gran.

Bella's
stomach lurched nervously at the thought. She wanted so badly to sing for Gran,
but was so afraid she might fail!

Today
during rehearsals, Jacques had announced to Etienne that he and Bella would
sing a duet of “Love's Old Sweet Song” as a special treat for the crowd
tonight. Although initially Etienne had expressed skepticism about Bella being
able to sing with Jacques, Jacques had insisted he could carry the song even if
Bella should experience stage fright. The two men had agreed that Jacques and
Bella could perform their impromptu duet right before the first intermission,
just as tomorrow night, the Blooms would sing their duet at the same juncture.

Bella
was overwrought, hopelessly caught between anticipation and anxiety. Would she
be able to sing tonight? Would she thrill Jacques or disappoint him? Would the
two of them be able to make their way back to Gran to serenade her? Would Gran
even be present in the twentieth century theater tonight to hear them?

Gran,
be present . . . please, be present!
Bella silently prayed.

Oh,
she and Jacques were taking such risks! What if they lost each other in the
kaleidoscope? What if she froze and couldn't sing at all?

Bella's
thoughts scattered as she heard a knock at her door. “Come in!” she called.

A
grinning Etienne Ravel stepped inside. “Bella, I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh?”

Gleefully,
he rubbed his hands. “The Blooms are here.”

“The
Blooms? You mean Maurice and Andrea Bloom?” Bella asked, perplexed.

“None
other.”

“But
they aren’t scheduled to perform here until tomorrow night.”

“That
is true,” acknowledged Etienne, “but they arrived at the docks late today and
decided to attend tonight's performance.”

“Oh,
how wonderful,” Bella muttered, while inwardly groaning. Now, on top of all her
other anxieties, she could worry about having the world-class operatic couple
sit in the audience and evaluate her performance!

“At
any rate, they have asked to see you—alone,” Etienne continued.

“They
want to see
me?”
She was mystified.

He
leaned toward her. “You
will
try to convince them to stay on in New Orleans
past tomorrow night? You see, more guest appearances by such a world-renowned
duo could give a real boon to our ticket sales, eh, Bella?”

Bella
was shaking her head. “But I don't understand. Why would they ask to see me?”

All at
once a deep, hauntingly familiar voice asked, “Who else would we want to see?”

Bella
gasped, turning to stare in awe at the lavishly dressed couple who now stepped
inside her dressing room—a rotund, graying man with a goatee, dressed in a
black cutaway and silk top hat; and a petite middle-aged woman with black hair
and china-doll features, dressed in a burgundy taffeta dress that appeared to
be a Worth original.

“Oh,
my God!” Bella said in a stunned whisper.

“Bella,”
said Etienne, “I would like to present Maurice and Andrea Bloom, world-famous
tenor and soprano. The Blooms have greatly honored us by attending our
performance tonight.”

Bella
stared at the couple speechlessly.

Removing
his hat, the man nodded to Etienne. “If you will excuse us, Mr. Ravel?”

“Certainly.”
Throwing a meaningful smile at Bella, Etienne left the room.

Bella
stood on legs shaking so badly, they barely supported her. She gazed at the
couple through tears. “I can't believe what I'm seeing!”

The
man chuckled. “Have we shocked you, my dear?”

“Shocked
me?” she repeated in trembling tones. “I don't think there are words to express
what I'm feeling at this moment.”

The
woman rushed to Bella's side and grasped her hands with fingers that trembled.
Tears flowing down her rouged cheeks, she said fervently, “Bella, darling,
we're here for you at last, here to listen to you sing. I know we missed your
first recital at the conservatory, but we'll make that up to you now. In an
ironic sense, we've waited a hundred years for this moment. Can you forgive
us?”

“Forgive
you?” Bella’s voice cracked with emotion. “Is that what a young woman is
supposed to do when she discovers her parents have been resurrected from the
dead?”

A
split second after she said those words, Bella fell sobbing into the woman's
arms. The man joined them and the three clung together for long moments,
hugging, wiping tears, and sharing their joy.

At
last Bella pulled back to regard her parents in amazement. “Oh, Mama, Papa, I
can't believe you're truly here!”

“We're
here, darling,” stated her father proudly.

“The
De La Rosas—the Blooms,” she repeated wonderingly. “Heavens, I should have
known. Why, I've been reading—and hearing—about you for months!”

“We've
made our mark here,” acknowledged her father.

“B-but
what happened to you two?” Bella asked. “How on earth did you end up alive—and
in the nineteenth century?”

“We
could ask the same question of you, dear,” her father replied.

“Yes,
but I asked first.”

He
chuckled, stroking his goatee. “Hmm . . . How did we end up here? Was it fate,
divine intervention?” He slowly shook his head. “It is all so strange, Bella.
Carmita and I never seemed to fit into the twentieth century. We often mourned
the fact that the true zenith of the opera seemed to have passed us by. Our
marriage, our careers, never meshed well there.”