Chapter 16

Meg passed Raoul and Christine many times in the next three months, but she never spoke to them. Instead, she stayed close to her mother, their relationship and Catherine's hope growing stronger day by day. In truth, even if Meg had wanted to, she couldn't be with many people. Carlotta had mysteriously disappeared from the Opera Populaire, many said to kill herself. Others said she left to give birth to the Opera Ghost's child, and still others said that she roamed the Parisian streets, searching for young men to take her on, even in her expectant state. She was over five months into her term when she disappeared, so when she returned with a healthy baby girl at her breast, Meg had no clue why she was shocked. She herself was nearly four months along when Carlotta came back, the day before the masquerade.

The day was cold and windy. The rain pattered against the glass, creating a meter nearly akin to the one the musicians were using to rehearse the ball music. Meg sat unnoticed and alone on the stage. As of yet, Raoul and her mother were the only ones who knew about her baby for certain, but Meg was beginning to understand why Carlotta had left. Rumors were beginning to swirl, undoubtedly started by the ballet rats in the dormitories. Meg had begged her mother to let her move out of the dorms and into a special room all her own, but Catherine had insisted that only the managers could reassign rooms.

Meg sighed, amazed at how wrong everything could go in such little time. It all started when Firmin and Andre took over management and the Opera Ghost resurfaced after a year of slightly appeased silence.

She shivered, a little more afraid of the Ghost than she had been before she had met him, been with him. She was sure that it was not as all of Buquet's stories had discribed. Indeed, why would he be? Enchanted tales of noseless, mummy-like men were child's play. The Opera Ghost was a real person, that she was now sure of. He made her nervous. She knew that it was he who had strangled Joseph Buquet that day, and just remembering how his diseased body had quaked and quivered in silent agony and mental contortions sent chills down her spine.

She looked up, aware that even now she might not be alone. Her deep blue eyes could see no one where the lights were shining, but it was the shadows that worried her. No one knew what might be lurking in the shadows.

Her gaze came full circle to light on the silouette of a woman offstage. “Who's there?” she called, rising uncomfortably in her very tight corset and long lemon skirt. “Mother? Is that you?” The silouette moved as a baby's piercing cry rose to the rooftops. “Come out! I won't hurt you!”
“I knowa you won't,” was the whispered reply. Meg moved closer as Carlotta stepped out of the shadows, the baby in her arms wailing uncontrollably. “She's Piangi'sa child, to be sure! All she evera does is eet!” She huddled the tiny girl close, jostling her rhythmically. Carlotta's hair was still hennaed red, Meg could see. She also saw that Carlotta was ghastly thin, the skin on her arms and face pinched. Her breasts, however, were as full as ever, perhaps swollen from nursing her child.

“Oh, Carlotta,” Meg whispered, running awkwardly to embrace her friend. “Where've you been? I've so much to tell you! Oh, and you must tell me about this beautiful baby you have. A girl, you said?” Her smile was forced when she spoke of the little one; it reminded her of her own coming fate.

“Well,” Carlotta began her prideful explanation, “She was born a month early on December thirteenth. She'sa named Megan Christine, for you and Christine. She'sa very small for 'er age, only seven pounds, but she's mine.”

Meg chuckled, although her laugh was barely audible above Megan's cries. She reached her the wailing child, her muscles a little tense. “Can I help?” she asked.

“Only until I canna feed 'er,” Carlotta sighed. “She does eat all de time!”

Meg smiled wistfully as Megan nessled into her arms, pawing at her breast. Her little face was red from crying, but even so Meg could see that she had Carlotta's eyes. She gazed at the frighteningly black hair. It wasn't chestnut, like Carlotta's roots were, nor a deeper bronze like Piangi's. No, instead it was black as a raven's wing, and stood straight on end.

They reached the dormitories, and Carlotta took her daughter after baring her breast. She baby latched on and sucked noisily. Meg smiled a little nervously, knowing that that would be her in less than five months time. “Does Piangi know?” she asked. Her voice sounded a little wary, perhaps afraid of how Carlotta would react.

Carlotta's eyes darkened angrily. “Yes. 'E named 'er. 'E believed dat being named for two stars, one singing, one dancing, ees lucky. Obviously, 'aving parents who sing isn't enough.”
“So you are speaking with him? He's taken you back?”

“'E's tried, but I resist. Ifa 'e could not 'ava a baby den, 'e canna not now.” Carlotta smiled at her daughter, who's dark lashes were beginning to flutter against her cheeks. Meg smiled too. She had been afraid Carlotta's unexpected pregnancy had taken all of the diva spark from her, and she was glad to be proved wrong.