PrimaDonnaKate – Dear Reader, I have never tried my hand at a sequel, in order to hold the attention of my readers, I would have to include mystery or dramatically full interludes. I am not particularly full of this kind of material, and I like to allow my Erik to remain joyous in his marriage without a great deal of drama in his life; therefore, I will not be writing a follow-up to this story. I am flattered that you wanted me to write one, that makes me feel really good.
I PROMISE YOU, THAT IF ANOTHER ORIGINAL IDEA COMES TO MIND, I WILL WRITE ANOTHER ERIK/CHRISTINE WORK OF FICTION.
I have an idea mulling about in my mind, I am just no sure how to develop it, but I'm working on it.
Mini Nicka – I am sorry about the honeymoon, I just don't know enough about Greece to go into a great deal of detail, I hope you enjoyed anyway.
GerardPhantomHot – I wish it didn't have to end either, but I have reached the desired point in this story, and must draw it to an end, I hope you will be on the look out for other stories I may write in the future.
THANK YOU TO ALL MY READERS AND ESPECIALLY, TO MY REVIEWERS.
So, this would be the final chapter, and I do hope that everyone has enjoyed this story, because I have enjoyed writing it.
God bless.
THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT
EPILOGUE
Erik didn't have a great deal of time to think about the fact that he was going to be a father in the biological way. He finished the house on the back of his property and moved his mother and Brigitte in.
The museum was doing famously and he had been asked to start giving piano and voice lessons again; but his heart wasn't committed to these…he had larger dreams.
"Christine…what would you say to my purchasing, redesigning, and rebuilding the Opera Populaire?" he asked, about two months after the gala at the museum.
Christine was knitting a baby blanket as she sat near the window in the parlor. She stopped knitting and looked up at him as he sat next to her.
"I'd say it's about time."
Erik saw the smile in her eyes and grinned back at her, "It will be a great deal of work and commitment, but once it's built, I'll take a back seat to the managers."
He pulled her into his embrace as they sat on the divan, his hand rubbing up and down her arm. Christine closed her eyes and enjoyed being held. She nuzzled her nose into his neck.
"I want you to do whatever will make you happy…if this is it, then I'm behind you." Christine murmured.
Neither of them said anything for a while, but Christine felt Erik tremble slightly beside her. She reached out for his hand and looked into his eyes. What she saw there caused her concern.
"What is it, Erik…why are you trembling?" She asked, with a hand to his cheek.
He turned into her hand, closed his eyes, and kissed her palm; releasing the tears he had been holding back. He didn't know how to express what he was feeling without sounding ridiculous.
"Tell me, Erik." Christine crooned.
He opened his worried eyes and looked down into her equally worried features, "I don't know how else to say it…except to say that I'm terrified."
Christine said nothing, knowing that he would expound on his own.
"Desiree died giving birth to Grace…I watched her take her last breath…" his chin trembled and he lowered his head, "…what if…"
Christine put her fingers to his mouth to halt any other words, "That was eight years ago, Erik….there have been drastic breakthroughs in surgery…" she raised his eyes to hers, "…we are in Paris, not a countryside town."
Erik didn't feel any better with her words and Christine saw the rigid stance of his shoulders and pain in his eyes, "Erik, darling…I had no problems with Jean Luc…pregnancy, labor, birthing…everything was picture perfect."
Erik allowed a hesitant smile to grace his handsome features, "I couldn't bear to lose you." He whispered.
"Erik, what happened to Desiree is very rare…it was her time." Christine said, trying to comfort the emotional man beside her.
Erik shook his head; the rational side of him knew that her words were the truth, but the emotional side of him still trembled at uncertainty the future held.
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
Christine's pregnancy advanced without any trouble. Erik doted on her throughout the next seven months; making sure she had all the necessary niceties that would make her life easier.
Grace became increasingly excited about the prospect of a newborn baby. Erik had found her crying one night, thinking that he did not need her anymore. Erik sat down on the bed and pulled her into his arms.
"Grace, why would you think that?" he asked, not understanding why she would think that way.
She sniffled back the tears and lifted doleful green eyes to him, I occurred to him again, how much like him she was.
"This baby is your real baby, papa…." She wiped away a tear as it crept toward her mouth.
Erik tenderly smiled down at her and caressed her cheek, wiping the tears with the pads of his thumbs.
"Grace, you're my real daughter…you were hand picked for me by God, He planted you in a borrowed garden, having heard my plea for companionship and love…He designed you with me in mind…" Erik continued to hold her and rock her in his arms, "…and then, brought your mother and me together."
She would be turning eight in three short months, where had the time gone? It was just yesterday that he had fled to Spain on a train with a newborn in his arms. It was just yesterday that he had watched her first step and heard her first words. It was just yesterday that he had taught her to play the piano and harp. Erik felt the tears running down his own face, as he reflected on everything that this tiny girl in his arms had seen him through…nothing and no one could ever replace that.
Grace went on to ask endless questions about where babies come from, and Erik, knowing her too young for such knowledge, evaded the question as only he could do.
He sang her to sleep and tucked her in, knowing that she had no doubts anymore, about his love for her.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
June 30, 1880 started out like any other day in the Destler household. Brigitte and Madeline came in for breakfast, Grace bounded down the stairs, and Jean Luc sat down on his backside and slid down the stairs.
Erik sat at the table reading the morning paper before heading of to the opera house. He had purchased the abandoned building several months ago, obtained a crew, and had started renovations.
The news going around Paris was affirming, with everyone excited about the former Phantom now working to bring music, in all its facets, back to Paris in style. They had sold out on ticket sales weeks into the first season, which was scheduled for April 1, 1882.
Erik was about ready to leave for the day, but he hadn't seen Christine yet. He never left without his kiss, so he headed back up the stairs and knocked on their bedroom door.
"Darling, I am leaving…" he said as he entered.
His words caught in his mouth as he found her standing in the middle of the room in a pool of water.
Her eyes were calm as they found Erik's panicked ones. "Get the doctor Erik, it's time."
"Mother!" Erik screamed.
Madeline came bounding up the stairs as fast as any 53-year-old woman could and immediately saw the need. She rushed forward and took Christine's shoulders, guiding her back to the bed.
"No!" Christine stressed, "I'll get the bed all dirty."
Erik allowed himself a chuckle at that, "Christine…please sweetheart…I'll buy a new bed." He came and sat down beside her, "Sam has gone to get the doctor."
She doubled over with another contraction, "But Erik, this bed has sentimental value…" She pleaded with him, "…this baby was most likely conceived in this bed."
Erik knew she was being lighthearted to keep him calm, so he responded in jest, "There will be more babies made in a new bed…trust me." He said with a wink.
She smiled at him, but her smile was weary as the contraction released her.
Doctor Gaston Thoreau came through the door at that time and took over. Erik left the room, as did everyone but Brigitte and Madeline.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOO
It was only an hour later, when Erik and Christine's daughter made her way into the world with a loud, ear-rattling cry.
Erik ran into the room, having paced a hole in the hallway floor, and rushed to the side of his beaming wife.
"Oh Erik…she's so beautiful." Christine chimed through the tears.
Erik sat down on the bed next to Christine and pulled his daughter to him. The tiny face staring back at him was perfect in every way. He was humbled by the miracle that rested in his arms.
She had a head full of curly, dark brown hair – a perfect mix of Erik's and Christine's; ten tiny, long fingers and a straight, perfectly shaped nose.
He rocked her in his arms and cooed at her as her eyes blinked open to reveal a deep, deep green with brown circling around her pupils. She let out a wale that made Erik chuckle as she began searching him for the nipple that would provide her food.
"Oh no, my dove, you won't find that on me…" he turned and handed her back to Christine, "…someone's hungry." He said with a grin.
He watched as his daughter nursed at his wife's breast, marveling in the way God had provided everything she needed in the body of her mother.
He wrapped his arm around Christine and with the other, caressed the tiny head of soft, thick hair. His heart swelled with so much love; love he never thought he would experience.
"What shall we name her?" Christine asked.
"What was your mother's name?" he asked.
Christine smiled at him, realizing she had never shared that with him, "Evalina Christiana Daae."
Erik looked down at his daughter, "My mother's complete name is Blythe Madeline Hampton…that was who she was before she married my father."
Erik looked back at Christine, "He hated the name Blythe…saying it wasn't proper enough for a wife of his; he insisted she go by Madeline."
"Blythe Evalina Destler...I really love that – it's beautiful…just like her." Christine stated.
OOOOOOOOOOO
Blythe was the first of three natural children for Erik and Christine. She was as gifted in music as her parents, and she and her sister Grace both made careers in music. Blythe became the first diva to hold that title, uncontested, for over ten years. Her father's music house, Musique du Monde, was her world. She married at 23; a young man whose heart belonged to music and never hindered her career.
Grace had a very successful career as the top harpist in Europe. She gave command performances all over the world, and her parents never failed to attend at least one performance in every city she played. She married Count Vladislav Skordavika from Russia at the age of 25.
Jean Luc Destler, oddly enough, was a gifted architect, just like his father. Erik discovered this talent quite by accident one evening when Jean Luc was twelve; from then on, he had a passion for it and was designing structures at the age of seventeen. By twenty-eight, he was one of the richest men in France under the age of thirty. He had women coming at him from all angles, but he did not marry until he was thirty-three…she was quiet, soft-spoken American girl…the daughter of Baptist missionaries.
Gareth Magnus Destler was born on December 18, 1883. He was his fathers son in every aspect; tall, raven-haired, and beautiful. He studied every subject and was as much a genius as his father; but his love was designing. He studied the way people dressed and how they seemed most comfortable; he designed clothing to fit the way people moved and worked – comfortable, practical, and cost efficient. He married the daughter of Lord Byron Phillips from England, Lady Sherilee Phillips. He took his designs to America when he was 27, taking his ideas and designs to the Levi Strauss Company.
Kerstin Lauralyn Destler was the last of the children, born September 3, 1887. She was the mirror image of her mother, and the apple of her father's eye. Although a gifted singer and musician, she chose the road of domestic bliss. She married a young seminary student who had accepted a position as an assistant pastor in France. He had been educated in America, but his family was from France. She never lived far from her father, and inspired him in the many musical compositions, operas, and arias he wrote through the years.
Erik and Christine Destler were married for fifty-five years. They had five children, sixteen grandchildren, and thirty-one great-grandchildren before death claimed Erik in 1935 at the age of ninety. Christine followed him in death two years later, at the age of eighty-three.
THE END
