Ch 74

The outdoor fireplace at the rear of the house was built up to warm the night air, and as Alex and Lisette helped Madame Batiste back to the table, I opened my violin case and flexed my hands.

I had played for years with the windows open, entertaining or annoying the neighborhood as I tested the music I spent hours composing. Alex would yell along with the melody as a toddler, Madeline would tap her foot as she listened, and Meg-who didn't think I could hear her-would mutter under her breath when I played the same two bars over and over, unsure if it sounded the way I intended.

I stood with my back to the Batiste family, my heart hammering and nerves frayed as I prepared to play two overtures for their entertainment. I feared I would not meet their expectations, that a string would break or I would play the wrong note. Somehow, I would disappoint Amelie. The thought sent a riptide of anxiety through my veins and I started to close the case.

"Do you remember what made you play for us the first time?" Amelie asked.

"You dared me to play," I answered over my shoulder. From the corner of my eye, I saw Julia look curiously at Amelie.

"That is oversimplifying the reason," Amelie said. She turned to Julia. "Erik was off to the side with all of the old people. You know, the people who are now my age. He stood with his head down in the corner while the rest of us were dancing. I dragged him out to join us and asked what he enjoyed, since he was still as stone in the middle of everyone swaying and jumping, and do you know what he said?"

"Music," Julia answered. Her eyes met mine and she smiled in a way that made my heart stutter.

"And then your husband said he could play better than anyone I had ever heard before."

"That certainly sounds like my husband," Julia said with a chuckle.

I grunted. "Did I disappoint?" I arrogantly questioned.

Julia silently shook her head and crossed her arms while Amelie laughed. "Ah, there he is, that boy who strolled into Tormage and did us the honor of playing with our lowly musicians."

I took up my violin and ran my thumb along the body. "I was quite fortunate the man with the violin surrendered his instrument to me. If a boy of twelve asked me for this," I said as I tucked the violin under my chin, " I would not have agreed."

"What are you going to play?" Marie asked.

"I am at your service, Madame," I answered, offering a slight bow.

Marie thought a moment. "Something no one has heard you play before, but that you've always wanted others to hear."

I hesitated. "There is...something from many years ago, but…"

"Wonderful."

There had been many experiments of melody that had ended up crumpled into a heap and tossed into the fire or torn to shreds, dozens upon dozens of overtures and arias written, rewritten, and woven into a waltz or concerto when the music didn't fit my original idea.

One of my first attempts at composing my own opera had been inspired by the single evening I had spent here in Tormage. It was simple, heavily borrowed from the country song the band had played and Marie had sang. Nothing had ever come of it despite me toying with what I had hoped to be an overture.

"You are asking for me to limp through a forgotten composition," I said.

"You are E.M. Kire," Marie pointed out. "You are not capable of limping through music."

I appreciated her confidence in my ability to play an unfinished piece of music I had written at the age of thirteen. I toyed with the pegs, stalling by tuning an instrument that was already perfect.

"Play something," Alex dramatically groaned as he threw his head back.

Julia cleared her throat. "Alex, where are your manners?"

"In Paris," Alex said under his breath before he glanced at Julia and saw she was not amused by his behavior. He slumped in his chair and pursed his lips, clearly ashamed of himself. "Forgive me," he mumbled.

My modest audience quieted, making the crackle of wood in the fireplace and crickets in the distance more noticeable. Julia offered an encouraging smile, and I took a deep breath. The notes arranged themselves in my mind the moment the bow touched the strings, the music channeling through my veins and out through my fingertips. I played a fond memory, a night that I had held secretly close to my heart for nearly thirty years. I had wanted the safety and comfort of lingering unknown in the shadows, but I found myself at ease before an entire town with an instrument in hand, learning a simple folk song as the rest of the band played.

I had left the stage to a round of applause and followed Amelie across the party to meet her mother, who allowed me to gorge on three types of pie. Fueled by my sated hunger and my love of music, I mustered the courage to be someone else-someone worthy-and danced with a girl in a swan mask.

I did not need to see sheets of music to remember the melody; each note had been stamped into my mind. I had fit in that night during a masked celebration. I had been welcomed by strangers and pried out of my shell by a gregarious girl who spoke lightly and smiled often.

Silently I cursed myself for not finishing the opera or the overture. For as much as that evening had meant to me, the days that followed overshadowed the elation of that night. Some part of me expected the memory to fade if I finished my work, to lose what had been so dear to me. If I didn't finish it, I could return in memory and comb through every detail from the long tables overflowing with food to the blissfully inebriated man congratulating me on playing with the band.

"Why does that sound familiar?" Jean-Marcus asked, his brow furrowed once I stopped playing.

"It's similar to Pretty Girls," Marie answered her brother. "Only more masterfully constructed, as one would expect from a famous composer." She turned her attention to me and grinned. "You are still quite the showman when it comes to playing."

"I thought it was beautiful," Amelie said. "And it isn't showing off when you are immensely talented."

'What is it from?" Madame Batiste asked.

"An unfinished opera," I answered quite vaguely.

Madame Batiste nodded and frowned. "Well, what on earth are you waiting for, Erik? Finish it at once."

"Of course, Madame. I will do so at once," I agreed.

"What are you playing next?" Lisette politely asked.

"What would you like to hear me play, my dear?" I asked.

Lisette's cheeks pinked as everyone turned their attention to her. She shyly averted her eyes and kept her voice low when she spoke. "Play something you love, Papa."

I regarded Lisette a moment, appreciating her constant consideration for my contentment. She could have quite easily made a request, but true to her nature, she wanted to hear the music I wished to play.

"A waltz and an aria," I said.

Lisette couldn't help but smile and readily nod. "My waltz?" she asked hopefully.

"Of course. And your mother's aria from her opera."

Both Marie and Amelie cooed at the same time. ans exchanged looks

"You've written music for your wife and daughter?" Marie asked. "Oh, how lovely."

"Mother has an entire opera called Mauro and Jewel," Lisette proudly said. "Papa took her to see it recently and they have a very romantic evening. Mother said Papa held her hand."

"That does sound very romantic," Amelie agreed.

"Julia is worthy of an entire catalog of music," I confessed. "A single opera is not enough."

"My heart," Marie said, fanning herself. She reached over and clutched my wife's arm. "What was it like hearing your opera for the first time?"

Julia's gaze locked on mine. "For as long as I live, there will never be adequate words to describe how it felt. He truly leaves me breathless."

"For as long as I live, I will strive to leave you breathless with every piece of music I write."

Julia's eyes turned glassy while all three of the Batiste women made cooing sounds at the same time. Jean-Marcus sat back with his glass of wine and nodded in silent approval. Lisette grinned and clapped her hands lightly together

Alex softly groaned in protest of our exchange, and Amelie playfully swatted my son's hand. "One day you will appreciate romance, Alexandre," she said.

As expected, Alex looked unimpressed, but he sat quietly through two more songs with Madame Batiste tapping him on the shoulder in time with the beat for the waltz.

"May we visit tomorrow?" Lisette asked once I returned my violin to the case and Julia helped Amelie and Marie with the last of the dishes. Their brother had excused himself the moment I stopped playing and walked off most likely toward his home on the other side of the town.

"Of course," Amelie said as she kissed my daughter on the forehead. "We have activities planned for you tomorrow."

"Like what?" Alex asked.

"Oh, mending the fences, chopping firewood, and cleaning the barn for starters," Amelie said with a wink.

"That sounds dreadful," Alex complained.

"Then I suppose we will have to find something else to do."

"May we ride the donkeys?" Alex asked.

"That isn't my decision," Amelie answered.

With that, everyone looked expectantly at me. "I am leaning toward...yes."

"I want Dria!" Lisette said.

Naturally she wanted the dust-covered, trouble-making donkey.

Alex, Lisette, and Julia piled into the carriage while Bessie loyally sat at my side. I started to walk toward the carriage, but Amelie placed her hand on my shoulder and I paused.

"Marie will entertain Alex and Lisette if you wish to visit the grave tomorrow with Julia," she said, keeping her voice low. "I didn't know if you wanted to visit your uncle alone…"

My chest tightened, but I nodded, grateful for the opportunity to visit where my uncle had been hastily laid to rest. I had never thought I would return to Tormage or where I had been forced to leave him behind. Many times as a youth in the Opera House I had sworn I felt his presence or considered what he would have said as I entertained myself. I had always hoped his spirit was not bound to the loneliness of the woods. I wanted him with me always, flesh and bone or ghost didn't much matter. All of my life I had survived on scraps and I would take whatever was offered, even if it was merely my imagination.

"I would appreciate your guidance in locating where he is buried."

Amelie briefly searched my eyes before she offered a sympathetic smile and nodded. "To see you again, to hear you play...it is a miracle."

"Father," Alex yawned.

"A miracle I very much appreciate," I said as I glanced over my shoulder and issued my son a warning look before I turned back to Amelie. "Apparently more than my son."

"He's inherited his father's impatience I see."

I grunted. "Indeed."

"Return any time you wish," Amelie said. "I feed the animals at five."

"I do believe Alex and Lisette will be prepared to leave the inn around ten."

"City children," Amelie sighed. "Perhaps I will teach them to mend fences after all."

"A valuable skill, to be sure."

Amelie waved and turned away. "Goodnight, Erik."

"Goodnight, Amelie."