PHANTOM IN TIME (29 page)

Helene
chuckled. “Then Etienne must have sent a stagehand over to fetch him, because
he's already here at the theater.”

“I
know,” Bella muttered. “I saw him.”

Helene
raised an eyebrow. “You saw him all of last night, too, unless I've missed my
guess. You know, I've been very worried about you.”

“I'm
sorry,” Bella muttered contritely, seating herself on the stool next to
Helene's. “But actually, I didn't know I would be staying out all night.”

“Oh,
you're forgiven, naughty wench.” Helene playfully punched Bella's arm. “So the
rascal finally seduced you, eh?”

Bella
didn't answer, though the deepening blush on her face spoke volumes.

Helene
pulled a hairbrush through her shiny red hair. “You know, you really caused a
stir with your impromptu performance last night—as well as your disappearance
with Jacques afterward. Following the curtain call, Etienne was bellowing
murder at everyone, demanding to know where the two of you had gone off to.”

Bella
could only groan.

Helene
continued with excitement. “And only moments ago when I passed Maria's dressing
room, I overheard her telling Claude that she had never listened to a young
soprano as promising as you.” Helene paused, glancing slyly at Bella. “Then
Claude dryly replied that the company's star tenor had definitely taken note of
you as well.”

“Oh,
mercy!” Bella wailed. “Does everyone know?”

Helene
laughed. “But of course. And there are plenty of females in the company who are
anything but pleased you've nabbed Jacques. I've noted lots of dour looks since
I arrived.” She touched Bella's arm. “Not that I blame you, Bella. Jacques is
certainly irresistible. I just hope he treats you well.”

Bella
hesitated for a moment, then admitted, “He wants to marry me.”

“What?”
Eyes alight with joy, Helene clapped her hands. “Oh, Bella, how wonderful! I
never thought I'd live to see the day when Jacques would lose his heart to a
woman—but I should have known that if anyone could reform him, it would be
you.”

“Why
do you say that?”

“Because
you're perfect for him!” Helene declared. “You're beautiful—and that voice of
yours! Bella, you must realize you sang brilliantly last night. I was so proud
of you. And it must have been your performance that pushed Jacques over the
edge.”

“It
was,” muttered Bella. Feeling uneasy, she stood. “But I think Jacques wants my
voice more than he wants me. He wants a woman who can share the opera with him.
And I can't be that woman.”

Helene
appeared puzzled. “Because of your stage fright? But you were anything but
timid last night.”

Bella
shook her head, her expression mirroring her conflicted emotions. “Perhaps I
did overcome my anxieties that once, but the fear always returns. Jacques needs
to realize I'll likely never become a diva.”

Helene
was crestfallen. “Oh, Bella! This may sound funny, but I really can't picture
you any other way. I suspect it's in your blood, a part of your heritage you
simply cannot escape. I think you're meant to become a prima donna—and to spend
your life singing with Jacques.”

Busy
arranging her coiffure for rehearsal, Bella did not reply, but Helene's words
troubled her all day.

***

Just
as Helene had warned, the company was abuzz with gossip over Bella and Jacques's
leaving the opera house so abruptly last night. The frank curiosity of all was
almost more than she could bear.

Leaving
the dressing room, she passed Crystal and Cosette in the corridor, and both
women tossed her heated, resentful looks. Then she encountered Jacques standing
with Etienne near the stage. With angry gestures and livid features, the
director was loudly lecturing him regarding his faux pas last night.

“Don't
ever
try a stunt like that again!” Etienne raved, shaking a finger at
Jacques. “The curtain call was a debacle without our lead tenor present.” He
spotted Bella, his angry gaze cutting into her. “And you!”

Bella
recoiled, but Etienne stepped forward and gripped her arm. “Yes, sir?” she
inquired tremulously.

Etienne
spoke through clenched teeth. “You may have sung well last night, young lady,
but lure my lead tenor out of the theater again before the performance ends and
you will promptly be discharged!”

Bella
felt so miserable, she could have sunk through the floor. She dared not even look
at Jacques, fearing this would further enrage Etienne. “Yes, sir,” she
murmured.

A
scowling Jacques stepped forward. “Etienne, don't blame Bella. I'm the one who
dragged her from the theater, not vice versa.”

Etienne
glared at Bella's crimson face, but addressed his response to Jacques. “Then
see that in the future, both of you behave as something more than love-starved
adolescents.”

“Now,
wait just a damn minute!” retorted Jacques, raising a fist.

Leaving
the two men to argue, Bella slipped away to the stage. But her reprieve proved
short-lived when she encountered Maria Fortune just beyond the curtains. Bella
stopped in her tracks and regarded the lead soprano warily. Maria was looking
at her with an odd intensity.

Smiling
stiffly at Bella, she said, “Well, look who performed splendidly last
night—both on and off the stage, it seems.”

Under
the circumstances, Bella could hardly thank Maria for her comments, so she
merely nodded.

Maria
laughed, a forced sound. “Soon you'll be taking my place.”

“Never,
madame,” Bella assured her.

As
Maria raised a delicate black brow in obvious skepticism, a pouty Teresa
Obregón strolled over to join them. Her lower lip curling under, the mezzo
whined to Maria, “Well, the little upstart sure as hell won't be upstaging
me
!
I've already warned Etienne that if he allows her to perform in my stead again,
I'll quit.”

“Miss
Obregón, I assure you that I will never again perform in your place,” said
Bella coldly, walking away.

Bella
fared no better with the rest of the company. Throughout rehearsals, the chorus
girls glared at her, Jacques frequently stared at her in stormy silence, while
Andre Delgado regarded her with renewed prurient interest. Only Helene and Toby
remained friendly and supportive.

During
a break, she felt warmed when young Toby came over to her in the wings. He
placed his hand in hers and grinned, gazing up at her in adulation.

“Gee
whiz, Bella, you were wonderful last night,” he declared. He pointed toward the
stage, where several female singers were gathered. “Now most of those old cows
are jealous. Never mind them. I think you are the best, and Mama and Papa
agree.”

Bella
hugged Toby. “Hey, pal,
you're
the best. What would I do without you?”

Toby
beamed his happiness. “Are you going to sing again tonight?”

Bella
blanched. “No.”

His
mouth fell open. “But, gee, Bella, you're the cat's meow!”

She
managed a brave smile. “Thanks, Toby.”

“Why
won't you sing again?” he asked wistfully.

She
sighed. “I can't sing again because—well, I'm afraid.”

He
nodded solemnly. “I understand. I'm afraid sometimes myself, though not of
singing.” In a low voice he confided, “Sometimes at night, I get scared there
may be a ghost in my closet. But I'm always okay after Mama shuts the closet
door.”

Bella
struggled to keep a straight face. “Yes, shutting the door pretty much inhibits
those closet ghosts, I hear. Do you sing, Toby?”

He
shook his head. “Naw, only in the glee club at school. Papa says we won't know
if I've inherited his talent until my voice changes. Then he says it's up to me
whether I sing in the opera.”

“It's
very good he's giving you that choice, Toby,” Bella murmured thoughtfully.

“I
suppose . . .” He paused, frowning at her. “You know, Mama says sometimes she
gets scared she'll forget her lyrics. Is that what you're afraid of, Bella?”

“Well,
it happens.”

He
considered this for a moment, then snapped his fingers. “What if I stand in the
wings with your music and prompt you if you forget the words?” he asked
eagerly. “Will you sing then?”

She
ruffled his hair. “I'll think about it, okay?”

“Okay!”

Despite
the boy's reassurance, Bella felt hard pressed to get through the day. It was
Jacques's attitude that affected her the most. During rehearsal she felt
herself wilting, again and again, beneath the hurt, anger, and recrimination she
spotted in his dark eyes. Memories of their intense lovemaking last night kept
bombarding her, weakening her will, flaying her conscience for rejecting him.
She felt as if she had betrayed him—and perhaps she had, giving herself to him
when she knew she couldn't fully commit.

Even
though they were rarely in physical proximity during the day, the tension
between them felt thick enough to cut. And now that Bella had known the glory
of making love with Jacques, watching him interact with other women, if only
for rehearsal, made her wild with jealousy. She knew she had no right to feel
that way, but knowing couldn't curb her turbulent emotions.

That
afternoon, when Jacques and Maria practiced their duet of “Musetta's Waltz
Song,” it was all Bella could do not to charge onstage and wrest Maria out of
his arms, insist
she
was the one who should be singing with him. When
she saw his beautiful hands gripping Maria's waist, she yearned to have those
sexy long fingers touching her again, touching her so intimately. She could not
even begin to understand her own mixed feelings. Why did she so yearn to sing
with Jacques when she was convinced her fear would never allow her to do so,
and that singing with him would ultimately bring them both to disaster?

She
continued to watch him as he rehearsed “The Greatest Story Ever Told.” His solo
was particularly poignant and heartfelt, and Bella was filled with painful
longing once more.

Then,
at the conclusion of his song, Bella blinked in disbelief as a block attached
to a rope came sailing across the stage from the rafters overhead, Jacques's
head directly in its path! At first the menace almost didn't register, so
dreamy was the spell he had woven around her. Then realization, followed by
full-fledged panic, sent Bella's heart into a tailspin. Lunging to her feet,
she screamed, and Jacques spied the block and vaulted out of its path.
Nonetheless, the block clipped him across the top of his head as it swung past.
Watching him totter, Bella winced. She rushed onto the stage, along with
Etienne and several others, including a stagehand who grabbed the rope to stop
the swinging missile.

Bella
touched Jacques's arm and stared at his pallid face. “Jacques, are you all
right?”

Rubbing
the crown of his head, Jacques flinched. “You are concerned?” he asked
ironically.

“Of
course I'm concerned!” she retorted, then glanced downward, gulping. “My God,
that's blood on your hand!”

Jacques
stared at the red streaks on his fingers. “I know, but the skin barely feels
broken.”

Nonetheless,
Bella took out her handkerchief and began to dab at the oozing wound. Jacques
flinched again, then allowed her to stanch the bleeding. Etienne stepped
forward, regarding Jacques with grave concern.

“Jacques,
are you hurt?”

Gently
pushing away Bella's fingers, Jacques grimaced. “It's only a scratch. Don't
worry, I won't miss the premiere.”

Etienne
gestured angrily. “Who in blazes would have done this?
Mon Dieu!
My star
tenor could have been headed for the morgue at this very moment!”

Bella
made a sound of dismay, while Jacques gave Etienne a mock smile. “Thank you,
Etienne. How very reassuring.”

Ignoring
Jacques's sarcasm, Etienne turned to the wings and bellowed, “Toby Strauss, get
yourself out here!”

The
boy, his face pale and drawn, rushed onto the stage. He smiled tremulously at
Bella, then stared at Etienne with trepidation.

Etienne
shook a finger at him. “Toby, did you throw that block at Jacques?”

As
the child cowered, Jacques replied indignantly, “Of course he didn't do it! Toby
wouldn't hurt anyone.”

“Jacques
is right!” exclaimed Bella, glowering at Etienne.

“I'm
asking the boy!” Etienne thundered back. He swung on Toby. “Did you throw that
block, young man?”

“No,
sir!”

“Well,
I say you did!” thundered Etienne. “I know you've hidden props before—and
booby-trapped them. I want you to leave these premises and never return.”

As
Toby stared miserably at his feet, Bella again spoke up. “Mr. Ravel, Toby is my
friend and I know he would never hurt anyone. He may have pulled a few pranks
in the past, but I’m confident he didn't try to hurt Jacques.”

“Bella
is speaking the truth,” seconded Jacques.

“I'll
thank you both to mind your own business!” Etienne snapped. Spotting Lucy and
Alfred Strauss hurrying forward, he bellowed, “Alfred, get your hooligan son
out of my theater.”

Arriving
in front of Etienne, both Strausses appeared very agitated: Alfred stood with
fists clenched, glowering at Etienne, while Lucy hugged and comforted her son.

Adamantly,
Alfred announced, “If you discharge Toby, Mr. Ravel, then my wife and I must
resign as well.”

“Yes,
Etienne, we shall not allow you to malign our son,” added Lucy in trembling
tones. “I can testify that there's not a mean bone in this child's body.”

Etienne
threw up his hands. “For heaven's sake! Tonight is the premiere! I can't have
my lead contralto and bass walk out like this.”

“We'll
do so if you discharge our son,” reiterated Alfred. “I concur totally with
everyone who has spoken up for Toby. He may be mischievous, but he would never
actually hurt anyone. And besides, in a few more weeks, he'll be back in
school. In the meantime, he must remain with us at the theater.”