Chapter 64: The Sound of Music
The day gradually gave way to night, the room taking on a warm, intimate glow as everyone continued to exchange stories from the past few years. The hum of conversation filled the space, punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter. Bella couldn't help but notice, however, that Edward seemed a little out of place at times—his unease subtle but unmistakable. He didn't have any recent experiences to contribute, and it clearly bothered him.
Determined to make him feel more included, Bella made it a point to draw him into the conversation, often asking questions about the time before he was imprisoned. She found his stories utterly fascinating—more so than anyone else's, in fact. His tales were steeped in a different era, a past she could only imagine but found deeply intriguing. His voice carried a soft nostalgia as he recounted moments from long ago, painting pictures of a world she had never known.
As the conversations eventually began to lull, a comfortable silence settled over the room. Bella glanced over at Edward, her eyes soft with affection. But something caught her attention—his gaze had drifted toward the corner of the room, where Jean Paul's grand piano stood, its polished black surface gleaming under the dim lights. There was a certain wistfulness in Edward's expression, a kind of quiet longing.
Bella smiled to herself. He had mentioned to her how much he loved to play. She could see the wheels turning in his mind, the familiar pull of the piano stirring something deep within him. The idea of hearing Edward play filled her with anticipation, and she quietly hoped he might be willing to play for them.
"Edward, I see you eyeing that piano," Bella said, her voice soft yet teasing as she caught his gaze. Edward, startled slightly, turned to meet her eyes, a faint smile already forming on his lips.
"Any chance you could play a little for us?" Bella continued, turning toward her mom and Jean Paul. "Edward told me how much he loved playing and that music was one of the things he missed most while he was... away in Italy."
Edward's grin widened. He had been glancing at the piano throughout the evening, feeling its pull, but he didn't want to intrude or appear overly eager while everyone was catching up. It was the first time in a long while that he'd been surrounded by a group of people, just enjoying normal conversation, and he was savoring every minute of it. But now, with Bella's encouragement, he wasn't about to pass up the chance to play again.
"I'd love to," Edward replied, his eyes brightening with excitement. "I used to play quite often back in Chicago, and sometimes, I even performed at nightclubs. It was... a different time, but I loved it." His smile was tinged with nostalgia, recalling memories of those nights, smoky rooms filled with jazz and laughter.
As he glanced at Bella again, a familiar tug pulled at him. Playing had always been a way for him to express what words sometimes couldn't. Now, he felt the old desire rising again—this was his chance to do something special for Bella. The idea of sharing his music with her, and the others, felt right. He had been thinking about that piano since he first saw it, and now, with everyone's attention on him, the moment had finally come.
He shifted slightly, his fingers brushing against his knee as if they were itching to play, but instead, he spoke up. "You know," he began, looking toward Bella, "while I was imprisoned... there were a few rare times when I heard the guards playing the radio." His gaze drifted briefly, as if he were reliving the memory. "It wasn't often, but when it happened, I caught these brief glimpses of how music had changed over the years."
Bella's expression softened, her eyes fixed on his as she listened intently. Edward continued, "Each time I heard it, decades had passed. The changes in style—the voices, the instruments—it was jarring. The music was so foreign to me, like I'd been thrown into a completely different world."
He chuckled softly, though the sound carried a hint of sadness. "There wasn't much else for me to do in that small, dark space, so I started composing my own music in my head. New melodies, songs... things I'd never heard, but that I imagined."
Edward glanced at Bella again, feeling the weight of his vulnerability in that moment. "I've never played any of them aloud," he confessed quietly. "They've only existed in my mind all this time." He paused, meeting Bella's gaze more fully now, as if offering her something deeply personal. "Would you like to hear some of them?"
Bella's heart swelled at his words, affection washing over her. She could sense the depth of what he was offering. Her smile widened, and she nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, Edward. I'd love to hear them."
Edward's gaze lingered on Bella, his eyes filled with warmth as he spoke, "Well then, I'd like to dedicate this first song to you, Bella—the woman who rescued me from hell and now... a good friend."
Their eyes locked for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in, and Bella felt a surge of emotion bloom within her. Edward's gratitude was palpable, and it stirred something deep inside her.
With that, Edward stood and moved toward the piano. The soft glow of the room illuminated the grand instrument, enhancing its elegance. As he drew nearer, he felt an almost reverent pull—like he was approaching something sacred. The piano wasn't just a collection of keys and strings; it was a symbol of the life he had been deprived of for so long. His fingers hovered over the sleek, ebony sides, the coolness of the wood smooth beneath his touch. It was immaculate, its age adding to its beauty, each polished surface gleaming in the dim light.
As he sat down on the bench, it was as though the world quieted around him, the only sound the faint rustle of the air as he adjusted his posture. His hands found their place, resting on the ivory keys as if reuniting with an old friend. He hadn't touched a piano in so many years, yet the sensation of the keys beneath his fingertips felt like coming home. He closed his eyes briefly, breathing in the familiar scent of wood and varnish, it was almost like a long-lost piece of himself was finally returning.
He played a few scales, his fingers dancing effortlessly across the keys. The rich, full sound filled the room, resonating perfectly—just as he had expected. The piano was in pristine condition, and its melody seemed to reach straight into his soul. For a moment, he simply allowed himself to bask in the connection, savoring the feeling of music flowing through him once again.
After a moment's pause, he thought briefly, but his decision had already been made. He knew exactly what song to play first. His fingers pressed into the keys with purpose, and the first notes echoed through the room.
Bella sat next to her mother, positioning herself so she had an unobstructed view of Edward at the piano. She didn't want to miss a single moment. From where she sat, she could see the subtle light in his now orangish eyes, the way his entire posture seemed to react as his fingers hovered over the keys. There was a kind of quiet joy radiating from him, a different type of happiness that she hadn't seen in him before. He looked completely at peace.
Then, he started to play.
From the very first note, Bella was captivated. The melody flowed from the piano like water, soft yet powerful, each chord resonating deep within her. It was unlike anything she had ever heard before. The music was a reflection of Edward himself—uplifting and full of hope, but woven with an unmistakable thread of sorrow. The contrast in the notes was breathtaking, and as she listened, Bella's thoughts drifted to the years Edward had spent in confinement. She couldn't help but wonder at what point during his long isolation he had composed something so beautiful, so haunting.
The rise and fall of the melody painted a vivid picture—one of longing and endurance, of quiet strength amidst the darkness. Every now and then, Edward's eyes would flicker toward her, a smile playing on his lips as he played, and she could feel the emotion in each note. The song wasn't just music; it was a story, and Bella could feel every chapter in the way his fingers moved over the keys.
When the final note lingered in the air, Bella was breathless. There was a brief moment of silence, a stillness that seemed to settle over the room as the echoes of the music faded. She was the first to react, standing quickly and clapping, her excitement bursting forth.
"That was incredible!" Bella beamed, her applause breaking the quiet, her eyes never leaving Edward.
"That was beautiful, Edward," Renée said, her voice full of admiration. The melody had been breathtaking, and as she glanced over at Bella while Edward played, she couldn't help but notice the look in her daughter's eyes—a mixture of awe and something deeper. Renée was quite pleased by what she saw.
"Thank you," Edward replied, a modest smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I'm glad it sounded as good live as it did in my head. I composed a lot of music over the years, and this next one... well, I imagined people dancing to it. It even has lyrics, so I hope you enjoy."
Bella leaned forward, her gaze locked on Edward as his fingers found the keys again. This time, the tempo shifted, the soft elegance of the previous melody replaced with an upbeat, fast rock 'n' roll rhythm. Her hands instinctively began clapping along to the infectious beat, her eyes widening in surprise and delight as Edward started to sing. His voice was rich, effortlessly smooth, and full of energy, perfectly matching the lively tune.
It was completely original, but Bella could sense the influence of late '50s rock, something that immediately reminded her of Elvis. Had Edward heard some of his music through the years? It certainly seemed like it. The song had a magnetic pull, its rhythm impossible to ignore.
Beside her, Jean Paul suddenly stood, offering his hand to her mom with a playful bow. She giggled, taking his hand, and soon they were twirling around the room, lost in the infectious energy of the music. Bella laughed, her heart full as she watched her mom and Jean Paul dance together, their faces lit up with pure joy. Her mother looked so happy, so carefree.
For a brief moment, Bella wished she could join in, but the person she wanted to dance with was the one behind the piano. Her gaze lingered on Edward, watching him, utterly absorbed in his music.
Edward played well into the night, the atmosphere warm and relaxed. To his delight, Jean Paul had an impressive collection of music books, filled with songs Edward had never heard before. He spent the evening flipping through them, playing various pieces for Bella and her parents, enjoying the quiet pleasure of making music for them.
But as the night wore on, he couldn't help but notice the way Bella's eyes lit up every time her parents danced together. He saw the wistful look cross her face, and it sparked an idea in him. Tomorrow night, he'd ask Bella if she wanted to go out dancing with him. The thought alone made him smile.
Edward sat on the sofa in complete disbelief, his gaze fixed on the giant television screen in front of him. The remote control, a small, rectangular object Bella had handed him before she left, rested loosely in his hand. Bella and Renée had gone out for a walk along the Seine, seeking some "mother-daughter time," as Bella had put it with a playful smile.
Before they left, Bella had taken a moment to sit him down in front of the TV, her usual teasing smirk on her lips. She gave him a quick rundown of how to use the remote, flicking through channels effortlessly as Edward watched, still trying to comprehend the sheer number of images flashing across the screen. With a casual "Have fun," she was out the door, leaving him alone with the strange contraption.
Now, an hour later, Edward was still trying to process the barrage of information coming at him. He flipped the channel again, and something different caught his attention—a race. Cars zoomed around tight corners, speeding along narrow streets at a pace that seemed unreal. He watched, mesmerized by the sleek vehicles, their shapes unlike anything he'd seen on the roads in the past couple of weeks. The scene was frantic, the roar of engines filling the room, while the camera cut between shots of drivers' intense focus and the blur of the racetrack.
His eyes flicked down to the text running across the bottom of the screen: Monaco Grand Prix. Leaning forward slightly, Edward's intrigue deepened. This was like nothing he had ever seen before. The cars were faster, sleeker, and their designs so foreign compared to the automobiles he remembered from decades ago. He marveled at the technology that had evolved to make these machines so swift, so precise.
As Edward watched the race, his mind wandered, still processing the sheer number and variety of channels he had flipped through earlier. With each click of the remote, something new and strange appeared on the screen—an endless variety of images, people, and activities. It was overwhelming. He had stumbled upon a program where people stood in a brightly lit kitchen, chopping ingredients and stirring pots. He flipped again, landing on what looked like scenes of people going about their daily lives—though there were cameras following them everywhere, broadcasting their personal moments to the world. The thought of such exposure was unsettling, and he quickly changed the channel again.
When he finally found a baseball game, a sense of relief washed over him. At least this was something familiar. The crack of the bat, the green expanse of the field, the roar of the crowd—it was all instantly recognizable, though the stadium was massive, far larger than anything he remembered. He smiled to himself, glad to see that the sport was still around and, from the look of things, more popular than ever.
His thoughts drifted to the Cubs, the team he had followed in his youth. He wondered how they were doing these days, then chuckled as he realized the bigger question was whether they were even still around. There was so much to catch up on, so many lost years to rediscover.
Edward changed the channel again, moving away from the race, only to be surprised by a familiar figure on the screen. Bella's face was staring back at him—no, more accurately, Starshield's, with her mask in place. The show appeared to be a review of her heroics. The footage had been slowed down somehow, giving viewers a clearer view of her incredible abilities. He watched, fascinated, as they broke down her actions frame by frame, analyzing her superhuman speed and strength in a way that was easier for human eyes to comprehend.
He leaned forward slightly, engrossed. This was the first time he'd seen the full display of her actions in such detail, her power unfolding for the cameras moment by moment. The screen cut to a shot of Bella addressing the cameras afterward, her face composed as she answered questions. Edward couldn't help but smile to himself as he watched. There she was, standing—or rather, hovering—in front of the world, effortlessly commanding the moment.
And to think, her actions that day were what had set in motion the events that led to his own freedom. It was strange to consider. If it hadn't been for that day… well, who knew how much longer he would have been left to rot? The screen shifted again, this time to a panel of people discussing her, the bold headline beneath them reading: "Where is Starshield?"
Edward flipped the channel again, his eyes widening as he took in the scene on the screen. What is this? A woman, dressed in a skin-tight black outfit, was locked in combat with a massive, snarling werewolf. He watched, intrigued, instantly recognizing it as a movie. He wouldn't be fooled again. The woman's pale skin looked right, but her visible fangs were all wrong. The action was fast-paced and seamless, and he couldn't help but marvel at what filmmakers were able to create so effortlessly.
Movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. He glanced to his left just in time to see Jean Paul enter the room. Quickly, Edward looked down at the remote and pressed the mute button, just as Bella had shown him. The sound vanished instantly, leaving the chaotic action on-screen playing out in complete silence.
Jean Paul settled onto the sofa across from him, a knowing smile on his face. "Enjoying the wonders of television, I see."
Edward returned the smile. "Yes. I had no idea there was so much to be seen." He gestured toward the screen. "Like this—am I to assume it's a movie about vampires?"
Jean Paul leaned back, casting a glance at the ongoing battle. "Indeed. Hollywood has always had a fascination with our kind. Though," he added with a chuckle, "they don't always get it right. There have been many vampire fads over the decades. Human's just can't seem to get enough of us. Makes you wonder what they'd think if they knew we were real."
"It would probably depend on which vampire they met," Edward said with a soft chuckle, his tone thoughtful. His eyes flickered toward the muted screen, where the vampire-werewolf battle was still raging. "They seemed to like Bella well enough… although they don't know she's a vampire." His lips curved into a small smile, amusement dancing behind his eyes at the thought.
He leaned back slightly, his fingers tracing the edge of the remote as if lost in thought. He wasn't entirely sure how modern humans would react to discovering that real vampires walked among them. "Humans today… so far, they seem different. More open-minded, maybe. There's so much said and thought out in the open," he mused, his voice lowering as he considered the possibilities. "But the people from my generation? They wouldn't have accepted us. Not for a second."
Edward's expression shifted, a brief shadow of memory crossing his face, recalling the fear and superstition that had gripped the world when he was human. The thought of how quickly panic would have spread back then made him grateful for the anonymity they had. Yet here he was, in a world where humans were fascinated by the very creatures they would have once feared.
Jean Paul, watching Edward closely, nodded. "Times have changed," he agreed. "But fear is a powerful thing. Even today, I imagine that if the truth were ever revealed, that old fear might still resurface." His voice was calm, yet there was a knowing edge to it.
Edward glanced at Jean Paul, his smile fading slightly. "Perhaps," he replied quietly, his mind lingering on the thought. Would humanity, for all its progress, truly be able to handle the reality of their existence?
Jean Paul studied Edward closely, his sharp eyes scanning for any signs of unease. From all outward appearances, Edward seemed fine—composed, almost at ease. But Jean Paul knew better than to take that at face value. It was often difficult to read a vampire's true emotions, especially when they were so skilled at hiding them. "How are you doing, Edward? Really doing? Unlike Bella, I was around when you were last free. I remember how different everything was back then, compared to today."
Edward let out a quiet huff, a mixture of amusement and frustration. Understatement of the century, he thought. So much had changed, more than he could have ever imagined. But meeting Jean Paul's eyes, he squared his shoulders, deciding to give an honest answer.
"I'm… surprisingly doing okay," Edward began, his voice steady but thoughtful. He paused, reflecting on how quickly everything had shifted since his release. "The last two weeks have been a whirlwind—there's no better word for it. Sometimes, it feels like I've woken up in a completely different world."
His gaze drifted toward the muted television, where a modern action scene played out, the vibrant colors and fast-paced movements reflecting the chaotic nature of the world he was trying to catch up with. "Everything is so new," Edward continued, a note of wonder in his voice. "The technology, the culture, the way people live now... it's exciting, overwhelming at times, but endlessly fascinating."
Despite his outward calm, there was a flicker of uncertainty beneath the surface. Edward had adapted quickly—his natural curiosity helping him keep up—but there were moments when the sheer pace of the modern world left him feeling unmoored, disconnected from the simpler, quieter life he once knew. He wondered if he would ever truly feel at home in this time.
"But eventually," he said, a hint of determination creeping into his voice, "I'll want to take my place in the world again. I'm not sure where I fit yet, but I'll figure it out."
He glanced at Jean Paul, his brow furrowed slightly as he weighed his next words. "Bella's told me a little about what you do, how you've managed to adapt to the changing world. I suppose I'm curious… what are your thoughts on the current times? How can a vampire navigate them, without losing who they are?"
The question hung in the air, and Edward realized just how much the answer mattered to him. He had seen glimpses of this new world—its progress, its opportunities—but he was still trying to understand how he could exist within it, without losing himself.
Jean Paul's expression softened, sensing the deeper undercurrent in Edward's question. He leaned forward slightly, his tone thoughtful but measured, knowing the weight of the advice he was about to offer.
His thoughts drifted for a moment, recalling centuries of experience before answering Edward's question. "If I've learned anything in the last thousand years, it's that having an open mind is essential. The world changes—sometimes slowly, but more recently all too fast. I've seen many vampires, good men and women, get stuck in the past, unable or unwilling to change, and that's never a good thing. If we don't adapt, we can lose ourselves." He paused, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I've had to reinvent myself so many times over the centuries, it's hard to keep track."
Edward listened intently as Jean Paul continued, his voice carrying the weight of a rich history. "The arts have always been my main passion, but I've worn many hats along the way. I was a publisher in the 1700s, printing some of the most thought-provoking works of that time. Some have survived to this day, while others have been lost to time, existing now only in my memory. Then, in the 1800s, I ran quite a large vineyard, producing a wine that, I was told, was quite good. It was celebrated among the elite for at least a century, but all things must pass, even if we do not. I've worked in government, and I've helped stir others to revolution when the country called out for change. But in all my incarnations, no matter what I did, I always found myself drawn back to the arts."
Jean Paul shifted slightly, meeting Edward's gaze as if appraising him. "For you," he continued, "I'd say don't rush it. The world is vast, and there's much to learn before you settle on something. Find what resonates with you, what brings you joy, and when the time is right, pursue it with everything you have. It's not about finding a career that fits into this new world, but rather discovering what part of the world fits you."
Edward drank in Jean Paul's words like a lifeline, listening closely as his tone turned more personal. "I must say, I was quite impressed with your music last night. Those original pieces… they were some of the best I've heard in quite a while. Frankly, much better than the noise that passes for music these days. If that's where your heart leads you, you could do very well in the music industry. You have something unique, and that's what people crave—authenticity and talent."
A glimmer of hope sparked in Edward's eyes. Music had always been his first love, a dream that had once seemed out of reach. He couldn't quite remember what his human self had aspired to, but deep down, he felt in his bones that his human self had wanted to create music too. Becoming a vampire had taken those dreams away—or so he had thought. But now, hearing Jean Paul's words, he realized that maybe—just maybe—he could still have it all.
"Thank you," Edward said sincerely, his voice filled with gratitude. "I'll take what you've said to heart. I agree—I need to learn more about this world before diving into anything."
His thoughts flickered to Bella, who had been his anchor through these confusing times. A warm smile crossed his lips. "Bella's been helping me so much. I don't know how I would've coped if I had to navigate this all on my own from the beginning."
Jean Paul nodded, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he recalled seeing Edward and Bella together the night before. To him, it was obvious how much they cared for each other. "That girl has a way of making the impossible seem possible, doesn't she?" His expression warmed as he reflected on his stepdaughter. "I truly believe she'd go to the ends of the earth to help someone in need. It's an admirable trait."
Edward chuckled softly, his heart lightened by the thought. "Yes, I don't think I could have said it better myself. She really is amazing."
"Has Bella mentioned whether she's planning to continue with the whole Starshield persona?" Jean Paul asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. Yesterday, with all the excitement of her return, it hadn't felt like the right moment to bring it up. Both he and Renée had been more than content just hearing Bella's firsthand account of the events that had unfolded that day.
Edward's smile widened as he thought back to the many conversations he'd had with Bella about Starshield over the past two weeks. "She says she's unsure," he admitted, "but I can tell it's pulling at her. Whenever she talks about saving those people, there's this look in her eyes—like she's reliving it, feeling that sense of purpose. I don't think she could walk away from it now, even if she wanted to. She was already helping people before, just in the shadows. Now that she doesn't have to hide, I don't see her standing by if she sees someone in need."
Edward paused for a moment, his thoughts lingering on Bella's unwavering determination, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about saving lives. It wasn't about the power, and definitely not about the recognition. For her, it was always about helping others, about doing the right thing simply because she could. Starshield had given her an outlet to channel that innate selflessness, a sense of purpose that ran deeper than anything Edward had ever heard her speak about. And though part of him worried for her—knowing the attention and risks her actions would inevitably attract—he couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of pride. Not because of her abilities, but because of her heart.
"I tend to agree with you," Jean Paul said, nodding thoughtfully, his brow furrowing slightly as he considered the implications. "I just hope she can keep her identity under wraps. I'm not sure she fully realizes yet how much everything has changed since that day." He leaned back, his gaze distant for a moment, contemplating the ripple effects Bella's actions had set in motion. "For the past two weeks, we've been watching the world react to the fact that someone clearly not human exists… and it's already had a profound impact on society."
Both Edward and Jean Paul lapsed into a comfortable silence. Edward found himself briefly lost in the memory of Bella laughing the night before, her eyes lighting up as she watched her parents dance. But then he remembered the question he'd been meaning to ask and realized now was the perfect opportunity, especially with Bella away.
Clearing his throat, Edward straightened slightly, drawing Jean Paul's attention. "I was hoping you could help me with something," he began, his voice now carrying a note of uncertainty. "I want to ask Bella to go dancing with me tonight. I got the sense last night that she wanted to join in while watching you two." He hesitated, then added with a small smile, "I'm still getting used to how things are now, but I have to assume there are still dance halls. Are there any in Paris that you would recommend?"
Jean Paul's expression softened, a knowing smile forming as he considered Edward's request. After a brief moment, he nodded. "I think I know the perfect place. Somewhere I'm sure you'll both enjoy. It's not the kind of spot most people your age would frequent…" He smirked, "But for you and Bella, I think it would be ideal."
Jean Paul's eyes flickered toward Edward's attire, and he added thoughtfully, "You and I are about the same size. You're welcome to borrow one of my suits. I assume you're well-versed in formal dancing, correct?"
"Thank you, yes, I am," Edward replied sincerely, his mind already drifting toward the possibilities the evening might hold. The thought of holding Bella close, feeling the warmth of her hand in his while his other rested against the curve of her back, guiding her effortlessly across the dance floor, filled him with a deep sense of joy.
"It's not a problem," Jean Paul said with a thoughtful nod. "Both Renée and I just want to see Bella happy. All things considered, she's had an exceptional life as a vampire, but there are certain areas where her luck hasn't been the best." He glanced at Edward, and for a moment, something unspoken flickered between them. Jean Paul could see how much Bella liked Edward—it was evident in every glance she sent his way—and he couldn't help but hope things worked out between them.
Edward frowned slightly, his curiosity piqued by Jean Paul's words. From all appearances, Bella's life seemed perfect—powerful, respected, and confident. What could Jean Paul mean by her having bad luck in certain areas? The thought lingered for a moment, but he shifted gears, a more immediate concern coming to mind. "If Bella agrees to go out tonight, she doesn't have anything to wear. Do you think Renée might have something suitable?"
Jean Paul let out a hearty laugh. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. Renée loves to go dancing, and trust me, she has plenty that would work. Buying dresses is just one of her many passions." His smile softened as he continued, his voice taking on a more affectionate tone. "She's so happy to see Bella again. She's really missed her these past few years. I imagine you're going to have to compete with her for Bella's attention—at least during the daytime hours."
Jean Paul leaned back, his expression turning reflective. "Renée hasn't been a vampire for long, not even a decade, and she still misses being out among people under the sun. Right now, I'm sure she's relishing being out in the open again. The way Bella can make that possible for them... well, it's truly incredible."
Edward's lips curved into a smile as he thought about Bella's seemingly limitless abilities. "Yes," he agreed quietly. "She truly is amazing." There was no mistaking the admiration in his voice, but beneath that was something deeper—a connection that he was still coming to terms with, one that had been growing stronger every day since his release.
I hope you enjoyed Edward's impromptu concert. Unfortunately, songs don't translate well in written form, and I'm no Edward when it comes to creating music. Just imagine that he's exceptionally talented! The next chapter will mark the end of their time in Paris and will feature the first real steps toward the romance that's been building. As always, comments are appreciated.