Quick note - Kristina Jonasdotter was a blonde, Swedish soprano and violinist. You might know her by her stage name, Christina Nilsson. She debuted in 1864, the same year the Phantom supposedly brought Christine to fame. Christina signed her letters and artwork as Christine, and performed at several Parisian Opera Houses. She is mentioned by Leo Tolstoy in Anna Karenina, one of her best performances was in the Théâtre Lyrique, near the Palais Garnier, which was supposedly the Opera Populaire. More on Christina later.

   One day, during Celine's second month with Erin, he took her for a picnic in his rose garden. She carried the blanket while he held the picnic basket and his violin, in case a sudden desire to play came over him, as many such desires had since Celi came to live with him. The child was an inspirational epicenter.

   He gazed up at the sky, in one of his rare, light moods where no whisper of darkness lingered in his thoughts. Celi, barefoot, to Erin's amusement, lay beside him, chewing on an apple and thinking about how nice the blooming roses were, and whether or not Tchaikovsky should have lengthened The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy in his Nutcracker suite. (Yes, about eight years old and she's thinking about this.)

   "Celi," Erin said suddenly. "There's someone I would like you to meet. Do you remember the beautiful blonde woman from the paintings you liked so much?"

    "Yes," Celi concealed her feelings by studying her nails. To any person watching, they would have thought she was safe from Erin's scrutiny, as he was not looking at her. But Celi had learned that he had many ways of watching her to gauge reactions without her notice. Many times, when his back was turned, or when he was reading, he'd be able to tell she was daydreaming when she knew his eyes were not on her. Yet he seemed to have eyes on the sides and back of his head. She viewed it as quite unfair, but he merely laughed when she complained.

   "She's a very good friend of mine. I'm helping her sing and play the violin, though she is quite excellent on her own... but I would like you to meet her."

   "Who is she?" Celi asked, curiously and strangely, feeling a bit of dread open up a pit in her stomach. It was not unusual for her, after she went to bed, to hear a young girl's laughter drifting towards her, and then the deep, melodic cascade of Erin's soothing tones following.  She guessed this girl had come before.

   "Her name is Christina, but some of her closer friends call her Christine, so you might hear me refer to her as both." He did not mention her surname.

   "I would like to meet her," said Celi, smiling at him. Inside, she did not feel like smiling. She felt something was very off. A bad feeling hung in the air around them that Erin was blissfully unaware of. But Celi would meet Christina to make Erin happy. She was happy when he was happy. Maybe Christina would make them happy too.

                         🌹

   Christina was a young teenager.  Somewhere between twelve and fifteen, Celi thought. And she was much prettier in person than she was in her portraits. Her hair was a golden wheat color, and her eyes were a glimmering light blue. She moved gracefully and spoke carefully. She had a quick tongue, yet somehow did not appear to be very smart. Her face was kind but her voice, while musical, was not truly in possession of sweet cadences - yet. There was a lot of potential.

    Erin treated her warmly and she seemed to regard him in a brotherly manner. She was quite shocked to see Celi.

  "You adopted a child?"

   "Yes."

   "She's adorable. It's nice to meet you, Celine."

   "You as well, mademoiselle."

   "You'll have to marry her off as soon as you can," said Christina. "Or send her to school. Do something pleasant for her. She's sweet, but Monsieur  Destler, I cannot picture you raising a child."

   Celi was enraged. She defended Erin when he did not defend himself. In fact, as Christina scolded him he took it and looked ashamed!

   "Erin is doing a very good job of raising me!"

   Christina raised her delicate eyebrows and turned to the man who was wrapped around her thin little fingers. "Erin? You took on a fake persona with her too, Monsieur le Fantôme ?"

    The two of them got into an argument which Celi could not follow, though she occasionally interrupted in his defense. It went as thus:

  Christina: I want to go home. I can't be in your presence or hers.

   Erin: I'm sorry, I -

   Christina: You are my friend and teacher, but that is all. I repeatedly remind you of this, yet look at what you do! You try to create a family that you don't deserve, and I don't want."

   Erin: How dare you speak to me like that. When the Vicomte comes by -

   Christina: Do not bring Pierre into this discussion!

   Erin: I shall do whatever I want. Do not forget that you are mine  - Celine is too - and do not forget that you are my creation. You would never be where you are today if not for me.

   Christina: Yes, I would not be taken from my home by you, once again, and placed in yours to visit a child you never warned me of. And you are a fool. I don't need you. You simply sped up the inevitable.

  Celi: Do not call him a fool!

   All they were doing was yelling, and Celi couldn't take it. Something was happening to her dear Erin as Christina berated him and he her. His voice grew deadly and pained, while hers only rose; his eyes turned menacing and fearful. That dark cloud was slowly obscuring his gentleness. He was turning into something fearful, his anger casting a spell over the room.

    Who was this Christina, his supposed friend, who had the power to come and disrupt their happiness? She did not respect Celi and spoke about her as if she were not here. She continuously scolded Erin. She did begin to seem afraid of Erin but was childishly upset enough to poke hot embers with her whining voice and haughty manner.

   Rising to her own passion, Celi confronted Christina the only way she knew how to hurt a woman, a skill she acquired courtesy of the Monsieur.

   "You are horrid!" She shrieked. Christina looked down at her in surprise as Celi got between her and Erin. "You are horrid and ugly and mean  and - and - and I don't like you! Go away! I hate you!"

   Christina gasped. Then she turned to Erin, looking deeply into his shadowed eyes.

   "If you ever hope to so much as speak to me again, you get rid of this child. Clearly your lessons cannot rid the taint of filth from from her blood."

   Erin looked down at Celi in a way that made her heart skip a beat. No one had ever looked at her like that before. This was an expression beyond hate and disgust. She was too naive to understand that his hopes, youth, and past were affecting his decisions. That the man he sometimes was and the other sides of him were just sides. He was not fully himself yet.

   Celi started crying.

   A shadow of what was to come crossed his eyes, and her tears could not penetrate the coldness of the wall he erected between them. He grabbed her arm roughly, dragging her away. She knew better than to fight.

   Christina's hand flew to her mouth in shock. She was horrified, knowing what he was capable of, what he thought she just asked him to do, something horrible. He would do something horrible. No one ever escaped him and once his mind was set, only a monumental movement could change it.

   Erin dragged Celi silently into her room and threw her inside.

  "I might have grown to love you almost as a father would love a daughter. But now I cannot bear to look upon your face. I shall deal with you later, Celine." I don't want you anymore, was what she heard between his words. She didn't understand adults. She didn't understand people. She didn't know what she had done wrong. Erin locked the door, and with the click of the lock, resounding in her ears like the echo of a never-ending bell, he was locking both of them out of the other's hearts.

        Celi wasted no time. The minute she thought he was gone, she threw open the doors to her balcony and peered over the railing. There was at least a thirty foot drop.

  The wind ruffled her hair, teasing her with the freedom she'd have to do risky things to earn. It gave her a sample of a different ending than the one she'd get when Erin came back.

   Celi scribbled I'm sorry, on a piece of parchment and tucked it under her vase of roses.

   She peeled the sheets from the bed, tied them together, then to one of the rails of the balcony. They fell a little over ten feet down the wall, but she could latch on to a window for an additional few feet before falling. The bricks would offer foot and handholds.

   She was able to climb down the sheets with ease. Unfortunately things took a sour turn when she made a grab for the brick wall. She fell fifteen feet into a bush, winded.

  Her lungs hurt, as did her limbs, but her body also felt alive with the feeling of freedom and self reliance. She survived the first part of her journey. Now all she had to do was make it through the second part.

   Uncertain, she searched for the hidden road that led to a street which would take her into the city.

   Erin's estate was massive, and the road was unworn and hidden  by shrubs and fallen leaves. It could not be seen by eyes untrained to seek and find certain details. She never found out why he kept everything so well hidden, but didn't give it another thought once she found the road.

   Celi did not bring any of her dresses or shoes with her, nor did she touch any food or water in her room. She felt it was no longer right for her to do that.

    On foot, the trip to Paris took her a day. She was extremely hungry and exhausted, and her dress was torn and sweat stained by the time she arrived in the city, in the evening. But she did not regret leaving everything that was not hers behind. The idea of taking things from someone who no longer wanted her, or for her to have them, was the same as stealing. Her sheets were crumpled yes, but they were required by her for escape, and unworn and not dirty. She wouldn't have used them if that had been a possibility. Everything else Erin would find untouched.

   She was once more a feral child of the streets, running from people and begging. Men in dark cloaks and porcelain colored masks, and her dead mother began to haunt her dreams. Slowly her zest and hope began to dim.

  Until the day a carriage pulled up beside her as she was walking.

   "Celine?" A woman called out, her plump face kind and concerned. Celi heard heard her name pronounced like that only by one other person before. Say-leene. Celi offered Mrs. Treacle a tired smile.

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   "My husband, Mr. Treacle and I, are going back to America tomorrow. He was very taken with you when I told him about our meeting. Wondered why I didn't bring you home with me the first time. And... as it seems your benefactor didn't work out... would you like to live with us? Oh, I would just love to have a daughter. And one from France! I can bet my boots no other lady in   Colorado has a French daughter! Would you like to come to America, Celine?"

  "Yes, Mrs. Treacle. Thank you."

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   "I'm sorry if I keep stumbling over your name. Do you have a middle name or last name, perhaps?"

  "Christoux," though Celi didn't think it was right.

   "How about a nickname? Would you like an American one?"

   "Alright."

    "Okay, let's see. Hmm... You're small, sweet... graceful. Hmm. Graceful. French. Classy. What's a good name. Graceful? Grace..."

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    Mr. and Mrs. Treacle adored Celi and she truly liked them. They were kind and funny. Celi realized that with them, she could begin a new chapter. Or start over. She could be a child. She couldn't forget all of her own memories, but she could make new ones. She could love and be loved. A family could be happy together and stay together.