Quick note: I adore Anna, who I've created as Charles' wife. I hope to write more about their relationship because I love it.
XOXOXOX
Charles was proud of all of his children. Elizabeth had made a name for herself as one of the best lawyers in the country, becoming one of the youngest District Attorneys in history. Rachael was following closely in her mother's footsteps, treading the boards on Broadway, getting bigger and better parts every time. And James was preparing for his first year of medical school at Harvard.
If asked, he would say he was proud of them equally, but privately, he was proudest of his third child, and youngest daughter, Charlotte. Elizabeth was the eldest, and had the confidence to go with it. Rachael, being the second child, had taken to acting to make herself heard above her overachieving sister, while as the youngest and only boy, James was naturally spoilt by his sisters. Charlotte was quiet. She didn't shout about the things she'd done, a habit her siblings had picked up from both parents. Privately Charles thought that maybe Charlotte had it right though. She just got on with her work quietly, and did it well. She was smart, and had consistently good grades at school. She was kind and conscientious and would do anything to help someone.
But what made him proudest of her, was that she'd made him love music again.
After the death of the troupe of musicians in the final dark days of the war, music had ceased to be a solace to him. He couldn't bear to listen to it, especially his once beloved Mozart. He found going to watch Anna in musicals hardly bearable, although he wouldn't have missed his wife's performances for the world. Once, early in their marriage, she tried to convince him to go see the New York Philharmonic. He'd flat out refused. In the end she'd gone with Honoria and her husband, while Charles had stayed at home, sitting in silence the entire night.
Anna played records almost constantly, filling the house with music. But never classical. It wasn't her thing anyway, but she knew enough – though not the full story – not to do that to her husband. Her music taste was songs from musicals, especially her beloved Cole Porter, or the latest pop music. She sang and danced while making the dinner (he never could convince her to hire a cook), every so often grabbing the first child that went past and making them dance until their embarrassed teenage protests gave way to laughter, or while balancing the baby, whoever it was at the time, on her hip. As their children grew older, they began to discover their own tastes in music, liking The Kinks, The Rolling Stones, and The Who respectively.
When she was eight, Charlotte asked if she could learn the violin. Loathe to deny her anything, Charles acquiesced, although he couldn't deny the twinge of fear he felt. It was a natural progression, for a violin player to learn Mozart. Sooner or later That Song would come up. The one that he'd destroyed the record of. If it came on in a shop while he was there, he would turn and walk out without a word, whether he was finished or not, leaving anything he hadn't bought, or leaving Anna standing. She was a smart woman, and quickly caught on to the fact that there was something about that song in particular that he hated.
So Charlotte began violin lessons, and took to it like the proverbial duck to water. She asked her mother to teach her about scales and note values and all the other musical knowledge Anna'd picked up during her time in musicals. For her next birthday, she received her very own violin, and cared for it lovingly. Before he knew it, his little girl was performing in her first concert.
There was no way he was missing it, but the thought of sitting there, possibly hearing That Song, sent chills up his spine. But being who he was, he didn't admit this to Anna. He hesitated momentarily outside the door into the hall, ignoring his wife's questioning look, as the sound of the musicians tuning up wafted through the air. Then Charles Emmerson Winchester III returned, and he walked in as though nothing was wrong. Winchester's did not show weakness.
It wasn't until the second half, when Charlotte took to the stage, that he began to relax. Before he knew it the show was finished and he was standing clapping proudly with the rest of the parents. The more shows he went to see his daughter in, the more he began to relax. He knew that living in fear of a song was ridiculous, but it wasn't until now that he realised how bad it had become.
After watching Charlotte with her first solo when she was fourteen, he went into the attic and took down the dusty box of records that hadn't seen the light of day since Korea. Anna raised her eyebrows but said nothing. He didn't play the records, just left them next to the gramophone. One day, before he got home from work, she flicked through them, but was unimpressed with what she found. She'd grown up with that high brow taste, and had no longing for it. But if Charles wanted to listen to them it was fine by her. Her sister in law often spoke of how Charles used to love music. Honoria would nag him about why he no longer listened to music, and every time Anna saw him begin to shut down. She'd become very adept at finding ways to swiftly change the subject and bring him back to the present.
Six months after he took the records down from the attic, Charlotte performed the solo in a concerto, to much applause, most of it from her father. The next day, Anna returned from the theatre to the sound of Stravinsky. It brought back memories of garden parties and summer mansions and fights with her parents, but she smiled. It was a start. Of course, as soon as he saw her, he turned it off, and silently started doing something else.
More and more, he began listening to the old records, rediscovering the music he'd once loved thanks to his daughter. Then one day Anna came home and found him sitting in the lounge, listening to what she recognised as Mozart, the room nearly dark as the light outside faded, tears in his eyes, although he refused to cry. She sat on the arm of the chair and whispered, "Tell me." He put his arm around her waist and pulled her close, so she was sitting on his knee, and he told her the whole story from start to finish.
Anna was the first person he'd trusted with that story. But he didn't intent for her to be the last. He wrote it down, word for word, pouring everything he'd felt then and since into that letter. A week after her eighteenth birthday, Charlotte appeared in her first performance with the New York Philharmonic, her parents in the front row. Then, as she prepared to leave home for the first time on a tour with the Philharmonic, Charles gave her the letter. The first night after she left, Charlotte read it. By the time she reached the final paragraph, tears were already in her eyes. But it was the final one which left her openly crying.
Since I left Korea, I have not been able to listen to music without feeling pain and regret over what happened. Nothing changed that, not marrying your mother, nor the birth of you and your brother and sisters. But you, my dear Charlotte, have given me back my love of music. If you hadn't decided that you wanted to learn to play the violin, I probably never would have enjoyed music again. It is all thanks to you. I love you. Enjoy your time away, and remember that your mother and I are always here if you need us.
The next morning, Charlotte found the first available phone and called home. As soon as she heard his voice, she said, "I love you too daddy."