"Are you alright?" Erik asks, pulling off the blue plaid work shirt he began the day with when he and Christine ventured out from the Eyrie that morning. Inviting the Daaes, Oskar and Madeleine…Maddie…home offered neither of them to change into anything more appropriate for entertaining.
For their part, Christine's recently discovered relatives were also dressed more for the outdoors than visiting with new grandnieces and nephews. Any anxiety was quickly quashed since, as it turned out, the casual nature of their dress made introductions easier all the way around.
The four middle children were in the sitting room in front of the fire reading…or in Henry's case, sketching. The toddlers already settled in the nursery. Dr. Gangle and Miss Fleck in their own quarters. Erik's call ahead to Gloria cleared the way for a simple introduction.
"Family members? From Sweden? What fortune."
"Her aunt's name is Madeleine."
"God certainly has an odd sense of humor."
"An understatement. One of the reasons I am still skeptical about believing. They appear to be both kind and normal."
"In our world, that in itself is an oddity."
There will be time enough for the rest of the household and family to meet her newly discovered family members and vice versa. Thankfully, Oskar works at Coney Island, so perhaps they will not be as judgmental as some from the outside world. So far, other than the one comment Maddie made upon their first meeting, there has been no mention of his mask.
As it turned out, Maddie's bright blue sweater brought out the color of her eyes and exactly matched the shade of Margaret's woolen jumper and was just lighter than the heavy shirt Christine borrowed from Gustave's closet at the Eyrie. Seeing them all together, Erik wondered if the fifteen-year-old might have some Swedish or at least northern blood in her. Despite all their efforts, no trace of the twins parents could be found. They may as well have sprung up from the earth. Orphans no more, and yet, so many unanswered questions.
With Meg's death, the girl was a little lost and the presence of this new, gentle woman, who was also family seemed to brighten her mood. Seeming to sense the girl's need, Maddie paid special attention to her, commenting on her thick blonde braids and how they were like those of her own granddaughter and how she would love for the two girls to meet.
The boys were fascinated by Oskar's mustache and, sparse though it was, his goatee. The buttons of his red corduroy vest pulled a bit over his portly belly and there seemed to be the hint of laughter in each of his greetings. "Such fine young men," he said, when Henry and Joshie came forward to be introduced.
"You look like Santy Claus," Joshie said and signed.
After gauging Christine and Erik's looks, Oskar said, "Ho, Ho, Ho." Then very slowly continued speaking and signing, "Maybe I am." Then pulled some wrapped salt water taffy from his pocket – handing it out to all the children.
"Charlie…our eldest grandson is partially deaf," Maddie said. "We were so grateful to find some way of communicating with him. It would seem it might be a family trait. Bridget was so concerned, but he is doing well…studying to be a teacher."
"You are Bridget's parents?" Christine exclaimed.
"We are…and Karl's and Elsa's parents as well," Maddie said.
"She was my best friend."
"Yes, she was quite distraught when you left," Oskar said, the aquamarine eyes filled with a compassion that took her breath away. "She lives not far from here."
"She does?"
Maddie nods.
"Who is Bridget, Maman?" Margaret asked.
"A girl I knew when I was a child," Christine said, wiping the beginning of tears from flowing down her cheeks.
"There are more relatives!" Emilie asked.
"How terrific!" Henry said. "More people for parties."
"I do not know if I want more people," Emilie replied.
"More people to see your plays," Erik said, scooping the girl into his arms. "Think of it – we will have no need to advertise and your papa can save money. The audience will be filled with family."
Her frown suggested she did not believe him.
After removing her house slippers – Gustaves' heavy boots left at the front door – and heavy wool socks, Christine shucks the woolen trousers borrowed along with the blue shirt. "I truly do not know. What is all right? That is the question."
"They seem to be wonderful caring people," Erik says, tying the sash on his maroon and gold quilted dressing gown. "The children were positively enthralled with them. I was quite impressed myself."
"I know. I was watching them and wondered what my life might have been if they and the others – people whose names I do not even remember and their children – had been my life instead of the life my father chose for me." Taking off the rest of her clothing, leaving everything in a pile on the floor, she goes into the bathroom. "I need a hot bath."
"Do you want privacy?"
"No." The tears flow down her cheeks as she stands in her undergarments, arms hanging at her sides, fists clenched. "I want you to hold me as I try to figure all this out."
"Oh, my darling," Erik rushes to her, grabbing her chenille robe, wrapping it around her, holding her close to him. "Here, you do not want to catch cold. Sit down, I will run the tub and you can tell me what you are thinking. I will just be a minute."
Christine nods, rubbing her eyes with the sleeve of the violet robe. "I have been thinking about the song you wrote – about my wanting him back. Missing him," she says after him, as he leaves the room.
"I cannot hear you over the water running," Erik calls to her.
"Wishing you were somehow hear again…
"Wishing you were someone near…
"He robbed me of a normal life with people and friends and aunts and cousins and uncles. Blankets…a bed. Food and safety," she continues to murmur to herself as she sinks to the floor, her body wracked with sobs she cannot control.
"The water needs to heat…everyone must be bathing." Erik, shaking water from his fingers, comes from the bathroom to find Christine on her knees pounding her fists on the floor.
Kneeling down next to her, he embraces her again, rocking her gently in his arms.
"I hate him."
"No. Oh, no, you do not hate him."
"I do. Right now I do."
"Of course you do. Tell me."
"Our children – we do everything for them – so they will never want for food or clothing, but mostly we love and protect them." Swallowing hard, her voice turns hard. "If this all went away tomorrow, I would fight for their care. I would beg our friends to take care of them. We actually have friends we can ask. I never had friends. Just Raoul for a brief time. No one. Just him."
"You left them behind…"
"I never, ever felt safe. I was always frightened. I killed someone – what child should have to kill someone?" Chest heaving, she looks up at him. "Why did he do that to me…to us?"
"I have no answers about why parents do what they do," Erik says. "I had a home, but I chose to leave a secure, but unbearable situation for the unknown."
"That is not what happened with my father."
"Maybe he felt trapped in some way you did not know about," Erik sighs. "Honestly, I cannot imagine doing what he did – it never made sense to me but was not my place to even bring it up. However, I have no doubt he loved you very much."
"Truly? I do not believe you," she says, using his shoulder to brace herself as she stands up. "You would never take one of our children on the road, leaving the rest of us behind."
"Your mother had died."
"So what? You would likely take Emilie away from everyone else here if I died."
"Dear Lord. No. First of all you are not going to die, I will not have it. My heart skipped a beat just now at your saying such a thing. If you died, then so would I."
Her already pale face, became even whiter, the pale lips open slightly as a dark cloud seems to pass in front of her eyes. "Do not even speak about dying. Never."
Shaking off the moment of fear, he recovers – Christine must be cheered. "As for which child I would take, were there such circumstances…you think I would take Emilie?" Rising to his feet, he scratches his chin. "I suspect, if I had to choose a companion, I would take Henry. We have much in common, with the architecture and what not. He is the most agreeable of all the little ones we have at home. Gentle spirit, calm, intelligent…yes, Henry would be my first choice after Gustave, of course."
Warming up to the topic, he begins pacing the room, waving his arm about to make his points. "But he has a life of his own now and would not likely be interested in wandering the earth with his old Papa. In any event, I have already done the earth wandering business and am quite content being a homebody. However," he says, turning back to Christine, who is now sitting on her vanity bench, her eyes losing some of the sorrow shadowing them.
"As I think about this, Angelique is still a work in progress, watching her develop would be rather fun, so she might be the second choice…or I suppose she would be my first choice. Margaret would likely not wish to go, she is much too content with her life and is a homebody at heart. As for your suggestion about Emilie…well, Emilie can be a bit trying, truth be told. Quite demanding. I am not sure I would choose her at all. "
"Oh just stop, she is your favorite, do not change the subject," she scoffs, unable to control her laughter. "You always do that when I am upset. I had no idea you were so fond of Henry."
"He is quite a young man – I really admire him – envy him. I wish I had his confidence when I was his age considering he is not normal in the eyes of the world."
"Quite so. He is quite special. Most of the time he is so quiet, you hardly notice him – a comforting soul. Both of them. We are quite blessed with our children, even our prima donna. Carlotta would appreciate the irony." Holding her arms out to him, she says, "Come, sit by me as we await the hot water."
"You do realize we would never have met were it not for your father's selfish act," Erik says accepting her offer. "You would be married to some tall, broad-shouldered, red-headed farmer with blue eyes and I would likely be rotting at the bottom of the lake beneath the Garnier."
In spite of herself, she giggles. "What a horrible thought," She says, leaning against him, "I suppose I am being foolish."
"Not at all. You have every right to be angry – especially after meeting these seemingly wonderful people."
"I do miss him – so very much."
"I know, my angel. I know."