Chapter 2 - Reunion
"Stay until you finish grieving. A year or two at least. The girl is barely past babyhood."
"She will be fine, I would never let any harm come to her."
"You are being selfish, Gustave. Rebecca would be appalled," Oskar insisted. "Leave her with us, with our children. Allow her to be a child. Try your luck, but do not put her through this."
"I cannot stay here any longer. Christine is all I have left…all I need…that and my violin," Gustave said. "You are a farmer. I am an artist and I need to live that life now."
"We are all artists, as our Pappa taught us, but we must live. You are being very foolish."
"I stayed here once, at Rebecca's bidding, but this town, this country has nothing for me anymore."
"Even your family…me, Lars, Karina – we mean nothing?"
"It is better I lose you all now then sometime in the future."
"That is crazy, we are not going anywhere."
"You might die tomorrow. My wife was fine and then she got sick. No one expected that, but it happened."
"So you take a small child into the world you know nothing of and think that is wisdom?"
"I want to play. I do not want to farm. I want more than this life and I want more for my daughter's life."
"Any relation to Gustave Daae?" Erik asks, taking Christine's hand now gripping his sleeve, her fingers digging into his flesh.
"Why, yes," Oskar replies. "My youngest brother." A shadow falls over his face as he turns to Maddie, her deep blue eyes turned up to his pressing her lips together. "We have not seen him for – what is it now Mad – thirty years…"
"Thirty-six years, I believe," she says, nodding, watching Christine's face. "Did you know him? You mentioned Paris, he always spoke of wanting to play in Paris."
"He was my Pappa," Christine says. "He died over twenty years ago…in Paris."
"Gud i himmelen!*" Oskar exclaims, raising his arms over his head. "This is most wonderful news."
"All these years we have wondered." Maddie takes a step toward Christine, a hand extended.
Christine shifts her body slightly, moving behind Erik, her eyes shifting back and forth between the couple.
"Rather than a movie, perhaps a light meal or dessert at the Phantasma Hotel?" Erik says, wrapping an arm around Christine's shoulders. "You all must have dozens…hundreds of questions."
"An excellent idea. The sky looks as though we will be seeing more snowfall," Oskar agrees, clapping his gloved hands together. "I, for one, am in favor of seeking a warm place for a hot drink."
"I, for one, want to hear more from Christine," Maddie says, taking a step back from the younger woman. "Thirty-six years. Imagine."
The walk from the subway station back to the hotel is dreamlike. During the short trek Erik's keeping up a conversation with her uncle – his eyes were so like Pappa's, like her own…her aunt…breaks through the fog of memory intermittently. Such happy people. No reason to be uncomfortable. Why does she feel so uncertain…frightened, even?
Erik suggested on a number of times they try to locate any relatives she might have in Sweden. On each occasion she refused, Pappa assured her there was nothing for them in Sweden once her mother died. Better to let things lie. Their life was full. They certainly created a family for themselves. Family was not always a good thing. Living with Raoul showed her that. Who knows what issues Pappa had with his brothers and sisters if there were such relations?
"We have no real family to keep us here."
No real family. Of course, there was family or at least people she vaguely remembered as uncles, aunties, cousins. Were they related to her mother? Is that why Pappa said there was no family? One cousin in particular was a good friend – Bridget. They were the same age and played dress up, finding outfits in Mamma's trunk and had tea parties. They would pretend to be princesses because queens were old.
"Bridget is here."
"You will make other friends."
"I do not want other friends. I want Bridget."
He was adamant, however, even at the funeral when Bridget's father, a tall man with a long golden mustache and a wispy goatee took Pappa aside, pointing at her.
"No, you cannot have her. She is all I have left."
After a while she stopped thinking about the farm or Bridget or Sweden. Even the memory of her mother faded as the years and miles distanced them from her early childhood. Life in the cozy cottage in a small village was replaced by a life filled with uncertainty about where they would spend the night or if there would be anything to eat for dinner. Yet, the times when Pappa played and people gathered around, all the hardships faded away. When she began singing and applauded as well – there was nothing she could recall coming close to the thrill she felt during those moments.
Pappa loved her and he knew best. What better friend could she have? Who else did either of them need?
The Hotel Phantasma dining room is almost empty, a few luncheon stragglers are scattered among tables being prepared for the dinner seating. Erik, Christine, Oskar and Maddie are seated in the family alcove, taking turns surreptitiously examining the faces of newcomers to their lives as they toy with the remnants of their desserts. Christine and Maddie sip tea. Oskar and Erik enjoy snifters of Armagnac.
"At my age, I never expected such a surprise when venturing out to see a movie," Oskar says. "My heart literally jumped inside my chest."
"The most excitement we expected was the possibility of one of the Polar Bear Club members lose his bathing suit," Maddie giggles.
"In all my years here, we have seen any number of bathing suit incidents. Even creating an amusement park and producing shows in the theater never surpasses what comedy everyday people can create just by having a picnic at the shore."
"So near and yet so far," Oskar says, stroking his mustache. "I worked at Dreamland until the fire and have been at Luna Park since that time."
"I wonder you did not come here…to the theater – as a musician," Erik says.
"Gustave was the true musician – the artist," Oskar laughs. "I play well enough and have performed some, but my real talent is with animals. The fire nearly broke my heart." Clearing his throat, he takes a sip of his brandy. "I shall be honest, the rumors about Phantasma and the masked owner put me off a bit."
Erik touches his mask. "Yes, I can understand that."
"One can hardly notice it," Maddie interjects. "People can be so foolish. One of the advantages of the war was people understood that a wounded face did not mean a wounded soul. Or if the soul was wounded, the person was not some horrible murderer."
Erik laughs out loud. "Some might wish to argue with you about that."
"Let them, I am an excellent judge of character and to find our little Christine is married to such a talented, kind and brilliant man is such a relief. Gustave was a very foolish man and our hearts have borne such concern all these years wondering where he was…where she was."
"Yes, Erik is all those things…as was Pappa. Neither of them would let me come to harm," Christine says, finally entering into the conversation.
"Welcome back," he whispers in her ear.
"Of course not – I meant no disrespect to Gustave," Maddie says, looking at Oskar from the corner of her eye. "We only wished your Pappa had not decided to leave us. You will forgive our being a little upset at being unable to watch you grow up into such a beautiful woman I hope."
Christine face flushes pink as she shakes her head. "I just miss him."
"Yes, I can imagine." Maddie reaches for Christine's hand, giving it a squeeze.
"Did you know Gustave?" Oskar asks Erik. "Knowing Christine from Paris and all?"
"No. We only met after he died."
"After Pappa died, I lost my desire to sing and Erik reawakened the joy in me again."
"Ah, the Angel of Music," Oskar chuckles. "Our own Pappa was passionate about the power of music…we were all encouraged to play or sing."
"Even those who were less than adept," Maddie laughs. "Poor Lars is tone deaf, has no sense of rhythm and is clumsy with his hands. A great farmer – had the best crops of any farmer in the area – but his only musical talent is listening to others perform."
"You come from a musical family, Erik?"
"My mother played the piano." Adding, "Her name was Madeleine, too."
"Oh, my, that must have been quite the shock, then," Maddie says, "our surname and your mother's name combined in such a way."
"Yes. Ironic the memory of both Christine's and my parents being evoked at the same time."
"From your tone, I sense this is not necessarily a good thing," Maddie says.
"Let us just say, we prefer to look to the present and the future for our happiness."
"Then it is well you call me Maddie."
"Do you use the name Daae, Christine, when you perform," Oskar asks. "I assume you still sing…"
"I do…still sing. I only sang at Phantasma once as Christine Daae, then I used my mother's maiden name for a time, but now I am simply known as Christine."
"Well, I am sorry now we did not venture to the theater, but will become regular visitors now," Oskar says. "That is, if we are welcome."
"More than welcome," Erik says.
"Erik and I have six children and many friends we consider family," Christine says. "Blood relatives will be a novelty for both of us."
"I hope we can live up to your expectations."
"If there is one thing we have learned in our years together is to expect the unexpected," Erik laughs.
"Speaking of expectations," Christine says, touching Erik on the arm. "Our children are likely expecting us home."
Oskar, removes the napkin from his lap, rising from his seat, holding Maddie's chair. "Of course, you must leave. This has been most enjoyable…"
Christine holds up her hand. "Please. If you have the time, we…" she turns to Erik, who nods, "…would like you to come home with us to meet them. I know they will be very excited at meeting their grand-uncle and aunt."
*God in Heaven – also spelled Gud i himlen.