So... last chapter took you by surprise? Why do you think the story is called "When We've Said Goodbye"? That's right. Because of what happened in the last chapter. Rest assured, though, that's not the end yet.

Anyway, thank you all for reading and reviewing, putting on alert and adding to favorites. It is good to know that you enjoy reading my story.

I still don't own anything or anybody, except for our dear Gertraud. Now let's see how our two star-crossed lovers deal with their predicament. Christine first...

Chapter 14 – Confidante

During the whole carriage ride to Gertraud's home, Christine tried her best to compose herself. She did not want her friend's butler to notice immediately how upset she was. She therefore focused on her angel, how right it had felt to kiss him, how much at home she had felt in his arms, how endearing she now found his deformed face, the way he had looked at her, his expressive eyes shining with love. Despite everything, she was happy that she could have experienced that past half hour with her angel. "Our happiness was short-lived," she thought, "but at least we had those few kisses and half an hour in each other's arms. It was a taste of paradise…"

Fortunately, Gertraud was at home when Christine arrived, even though she had not expected visitors that day. When Christine was announced, Gertraud asked her butler to show Madame de Chagny into the parlor where she would meet her guest.

Christine was able to maintain her composure till she was alone with Gertraud. The moment the butler had left them, her tears started to flow again. Gertraud pulled her into her arms and tried to comfort her. "Sh, Christine," she whispered, "calm down. I am here, I will help you. What is the matter? Has something happened to your husband or your daughters?"

Christine shook her head. "No, it's me," she sobbed. "I just realized I made a terrible mistake four years ago."

Gertraud patted her on the back. "Don't we all make mistakes every now and then?" she asked. "The important thing is to try and correct them, once we've realized what a mess we have caused. Now that you know about your mistake, you can think about ways to put things right."

Christine shook her head again. "It is not possible to repair the damage," she said gloomily, "not in this case." And without thinking what she was saying, she added, "I married the wrong man."

Gertraud gasped. She had not quite expected that, even though she had never understood why Christine would have married Raoul. So it finally had dawned on Christine that a husband who did not want her to sing was not the right choice for her, but a divorce would be impossible because of Christine's children. Gertraud was overwhelmed with compassion for her friend. She lead Christine to the sofa and sat down with her, her arms still around the sobbing young woman.

"If you want to talk about it,…" Gertraud began, then remembered her own reputation as a rather talkative person. "I know most people think I talk too much," she said apologetically, "but I know how to hold my tongue when it's really important. I won't tell anybody. Not a word."

Christine nodded. She had a feeling as if she needed to tell somebody what had happened today between her and her angel. Of course, the logical choice for such a confession would have been Madame Giry, but she was far away, and Christine did not dare write these things down in a letter that somebody might find before it was finished and sealed.

"I have known Raoul forever," she began. "I was a little girl when we first met, my father and I were living in a small town at the sea in Brittany, near the estate of Raoul's family."

Gertraud interrupted her. "What about your mother?" she asked. "Was she not with you?"

Christine shook her head. "I never knew her. My mother died giving birth to me. It was just father and me. He never remarried, he loved her too much. Anyway, we were staying in this small town, and one day we were walking on the beach. It was a rainy day and very windy. I was wearing my favorite red scarf, but suddenly a gust of wind carried it away, into the sea. A boy, a few years older than me, was playing on the beach as well. He saw my desperation and went into the sea to get me my scarf back…"

Gertraud smiled. "That was your husband…."

Christine nodded. "Yes, that's how I met Raoul. After that, we became fast friends, we were childhood sweethearts, inseparable for the next few months. Then…" Christine's eyes were welling with tears again as she remembered what had happened next.

"My father got very ill," Christine finally continued, "and died after a few weeks."

Gertraud's heart went out to her. So her poor friend had been orphaned at a very young age. "How terrible," she whispered. "How old were you, when your father died?"

Christine made another attempt to compose herself. "Seven," she murmured. "I was only seven, when the world as I knew it, fell apart."

Gertraud rubbed Christine's back. "So young!" she whispered, shocked. "What happened then? Did some relative take you in?"

Christine shook her head. "No," she said. "I was sent to Paris where I lived…." She bit her lip. She almost had mentioned the Opéra Populaire. But Raoul did not want her to speak of her past as a performer, and it was also better, for her angel's safety, to leave certain details out. "I lived with a foster mother," she added hesitantly. That was close enough to the truth, since Mme. Giry had always treated her like a daughter. "She was a widow and had a daughter who was the same age as I," Christine continued. "Meg and I grew up like sisters."

Gertraud smiled at her. "That must have been nice," she said, "having a sister, that is. I always wanted one…"

Christine returned the smile. "It was nice," she admitted, "once I settled in. But at first I was so depressed. I missed my father terribly…."

Gertraud nodded in understanding. "I bet you missed him," she said, "and then you came from a small town into the big city, you left your friend behind… though I assume he wrote to you…"

Christine sadly shook her head. "No," she confessed. "Raoul never wrote. I guess his parents did not want him to stay in contact. I was an orphan, after all…"

Gertraud thought by herself that abandoning his orphaned friend in her times of need was not a point in favor of Christine's husband, but kept this opinion to herself.

"But you eventually adjusted," she assumed, looking at Christine for confirmation.

Christine nodded. "When my singing lessons started," she whispered dreamily, remembering how her angel had spoken to her for the first time in the little chapel of the Opéra Populaire.

"I had always liked singing," she explained, "my father loved to hear me sing. He would accompany me on his violin, but I had never had real lessons until I came to Paris."

Gertraud smiled. "Your foster mother noticed your talent and made sure you could take lessons?" she guessed.

Christine nodded. "Something like that," she said. "My teacher, he was an acquaintance of my foster mother. They had grown up together. They were not blood-related, but they were very close. She felt somehow responsible for him, like any older sister might for her younger brother. It was him who noticed my talent and he started teaching me, since he thought it would be a shame to let my talent go to waste." Christine was proud of herself. She was sticking rather close to the truth. Her face suddenly lit up, her eyes bright, as she continued, "he was more than my teacher. It is true that he helped me develop my voice, but he also became the most important person in my life. He watched over me, taught me everything I know, was always there when I needed something. He was like a father to me, when I was a little girl, and later,…." Christine blushed a deep shade of purple.

Gertraud gasped. "It is him you love," she realized, and as Christine nodded, she continued. "And he? Does he love you as well? Or does he see you as some kind of surrogate daughter? Or is he… I mean, you said he is something like your foster mother's brother, so he must be older than you… is he married to somebody else?"

Christine smiled. "No, he is not married," she said, "and since he can't have me, he won't marry. But you are right, he is much older than I am. He was in his mid-twenties when I came to Paris, and I was seven years old."

Gertraud suddenly gasped. She put her hand on her mouth in shock. A strange idea had passed her mind, a suspicion about Christine's teacher. But the more she thought about it, the more she concluded that her idea was not so outlandish after all, that everything did indeed fit. "Dumesnil," she whispered. "He was your teacher then. The age difference is right, and this lost love of his, the one to whom he dedicated his songs,… it's you, isn't it?"

Christine nodded. "Yes," she admitted. "He was my teacher, and I am the woman who broke his heart. He was just trying to make me understand how his feelings for me had changed, when Raoul came to Paris. We met again, rekindled our friendship, and…"

Gertraud sighed. She understood what had happened. Christine had preferred the younger suitor, the one she might have thought of as her future husband as a child, and had disregarded the deep love of her teacher. "And so you married your childhood sweetheart after a relatively short courtship. If you even fully understood your teacher's changed feelings for you, you never considered him, because you thought he was too old for you."

Christine looked down. "Raoul seemed like the better choice," she admitted. "He was the right age, of noble birth, fully able to support a family…"

Gertraud laughed. "Yes, the ideal son-in-law, that every parent wants for their child." Then she looked at Christine. "What about your foster mother?" she asked. "Would she have wanted you to marry her quasi-brother or did she think he was too old for you?"

Christine sighed. "I think she hoped I would marry him, that we would be good for each other. She may have understood me better than either of my two suitors, for I guess she suspected that I had feelings for my… for Erik, but she ultimately accepted my choice."

Gertraud sighed. "She meant well, but if she suspected you might have deeper feelings for Dumesnil…"

Christine shook her head. "She had her reasons, I am sure. Erik… he was not a successful composer and pianist yet…." Her voice trailed. She most definitely was not going to tell Gertraud that Erik had haunted an opera house and killed a stagehand.

"So she might have feared he would not be able to provide for you and maybe a growing family?

Christine smiled. One could certainly put it that way. Mme. Giry most definitely would not have approved of Christine living in the cellars of the Opéra Populaire with Erik. "I guess so," she admitted hesitantly. "Anyway, I married Raoul, and Erik left Paris and came here."

Gertraud nodded. "He did not want to remain in the city where everything reminded him of you, did not want to see you with your new husband…."

"Yes," Christine sobbed. "I hurt him so much. He tried to forget me, but couldn't. That's when he started to write these songs…."

Gertraud suddenly remembered something. "But when I invited you to this afternoon tea, you did not seem to know who he was. Is he using a pen name now or how come?"

Christine giggled. "On the contrary," she said. "He was using a pen name then." That was not even a lie, she thought, since her angel used to sign his notes as "O.G.". "Erik Dumesnil is his real name, though, but I never knew." Her smile deepened. "And I used to call him my Angel of Music anyway…"

When Gertraud gave her a surprised look, Christine explained. "That's a story my father used to tell me, about Little Lotte being visited by an angel of music and taught to sing. When he was getting sick, my father promised me, that should he die, he would send me such an angel as well to watch over me and teach me, and when he died, Erik entered my life and filled it with music, so it was only natural, that I began to think of Erik as my angel…"

Gertraud frowned. "Maybe your father did send Dumesnil to you," she said pensively. "I do think that our dear departed ones watch over us and pray for us. You were so young when your father died, and so alone,… his prayers may have been particularly powerful… this angel was maybe truly sent to you because of his intervention…"

Christine looked stricken. "I know," she whispered, "I am fairly certain that papa truly sent Erik to me, to care for me in his stead. And I was too naïve to understand my own heart, the depth of my feelings for my angel, and let myself get swayed by Raoul's youthful charms…"

Gertraud held Christine in her arms. "Cry if you feel like crying," she told her friend. "I cannot even begin to imagine what it might be like to find out too late who your true love is…" She had always known that Dumesnil's love for the woman who had inspired his songs was deep and strong, and she now remembered little details about Christine's reaction to him, things that per se might not have meant much, but given their back-story showed only too clearly that Christine's feelings for her former teacher were just as strong. How she had blushed when she had been introduced to the composer! How she had enjoyed even that boring first singing lesson! How she had promised him not to tell her husband that she had met him….

"That first night, at my tea party, you said to Dumesnil that you would not mention to your husband that you had met him," Gertraud began hesitantly. "I know now that this was intended as a message for him of some sort. Is there… I guess neither you nor your husband knew that Dumesnil lives in Berlin now? And you wanted to let him know that this secret was safe with you, that he could count on your silence?"

Christine nodded. "They were once rivals, and Raoul is very jealous of Erik. If he knew that Erik is here, he'd probably find a way to bother him, harass him, … I needed to make sure Erik knew he would have nothing to fear."

Gertraud sighed. She began to like Christine's husband less and less. So he was jealous of the former teacher, to the point of wanting to harm or at least hurt his rival. "I have a feeling as if this Vicomte knew more about his wife's feelings for that man than she did, when they got married," Gertraud thought. "He must be a very egocentric person. He probably overwhelmed her with his courtship, then married her on the spot, before she could realize her mistake. But he knows that her heart belongs to his rival, that's why he fears him and tries to harm him…. And that's why he does not want her to sing... because it might remind her of the other man..."

Christine was starting to calm down a bit. Gertraud smiled at her, encouragingly. "How did you suddenly realize that it is Dumesnil you love?" she asked.

Christine told her about her meeting with Erik that afternoon, leaving out certain details, like the fact that his mask was the real reason for the end of their voice lessons. "He wanted to say good-bye," she explained to Gertraud. "There is no business reason for his travel, he just could not bear it any longer to be around me without being able to … I mean, he is an honorable man… he did not want to try and win me back. He had hoped that friendship would be enough for him, but …."

Gertraud nodded. "And when he finally confessed to you that he still loves you…."

"Suddenly we were in each other's arms, kissing," Christine admitted, embarrassed. "In that moment I did not even remember that Raoul existed, all I knew was that I had finally found home and was where I belonged, in his arms." She smiled at the memory of that magic moment, when she had finally realized that her angel meant the world to her, that it was him she had been meant to love and be with.

Christine's smile faded. "It was only a few moments," she explained, "before I remembered Raoul and my two girls, and my duties as a wife and mother. But those were the happiest moments of my life. Of course, then I had to tell Erik, that it was too late for us to … I mean, I would lose the girls if I left Raoul. I have a responsibility towards them. I cannot abandon my own flesh and blood, not even for the man I love and who loves me back, and I certainly cannot take them with me. Raoul would follow us, and considering his animosity towards Erik…. I would put us all at risk … I had to tell Erik that I could not… that we… that we could never see each other again."

Gertraud waited till Christine would calm down again. She knew that Christine was right. The way things were, she could not leave her husband. Christine would not only ruin her own reputation, she would also be separated from her children, who still needed her desperately.

"You did the right thing," she tried to comfort Christine. "Keep that in mind. It may give you the necessary strength to carry on. The children need you. Focus on your love for them, their well-being must be your first priority now, your main purpose in life. And then…. You know that Dumesnil will always love you. He did accept your decision, did he not?"

Christine nodded. "Yes, he let me go – again, even though it broke his heart…"

Gertraud smiled at her. "That's true love, Christine. He puts what's best for you above his own hopes and desires."

Christine smiled between tears. "He always does. He gave up on me once already, when he thought I was in love with Raoul. He would die for me if that could help me. It's just… I feel so guilty. I have my children to help me deal with the situation, and Raoul. Even though I do not love him like I love Erik, he is still dear to me, even though now I see him more as an older brother or close friend. Erik is so alone. He has nobody…"

Gertraud shushed her. "He has your love, Christine. He may not have known that before, but he knows it now. He will be able to draw strength from that certainty. And I guess he has friends, too, like the Lüders-family. And doesn't he have your foster mother, too, to support him?"

Christine smiled. "She is in Paris, and he is not going back to France again, but yes, she will always be there for him. Erik wanted to leave Berlin, but I said I would not chase him from yet another home. I will have to convince Raoul to take us home to France. When we are gone, Erik can resume his career here…"

Gertraud's face fell. "You want to leave? I will miss you so much!"

Christine hugged her. She felt that Gertraud had become a true friend in those few weeks that they had known each other. "I have to leave," she explained calmly, "and I will have to ask you to help me convince Raoul of that necessity should he be stubborn. But we will always stay in touch. We can write, you can come for a visit, or we could meet elsewhere."

Gertraud sighed. "I will help you," she finally promised. "Whatever it takes to restore your peace of mind, I'll help you with it."