The Prodigy Slave, Book Three: The Ultimate Grand Finale (Revised Edition 2020)

by Londyn Skye

  I still wish for these dreams to come to fruition. But I have no help. I’m overwhelmed. And I don’t know where to even begin looking for her again. But, if I’m being honest, there’s a part of me that is far too riddled with fear to carry on searching. I fear I will spend years searching only to find that Lily’s master truly did take her life. I cannot possibly conceive of facing Maya with such crippling news. In fact, I’m certain that I would not be able to face her at all. Because, Emily is right. I would only have my two hands to blame for Lily’s demise. Wyatt is also right. I would absolutely deserve to live with the agony of causing her death. But the excruciating pain of such a monumental failure is something I simply cannot live with.

  Funny, I have played countless piano show finales throughout my life. But, ironically, the very moment I finish scripting these words and close this book, I suppose I will truly be performing the ultimate grand finale, one that I will not receive a standing ovation for but, rather, one I pray God will forgive me for.

  Lily closed the last journal, buried her face in her hands, and wept over the loss of her father, as if she was there watching him pull the trigger. James gathered her in his arms, laid his head on top of hers and held her tight. The length and strength with which she wept stirred his tears as well. For minutes, there were no words spoken, only a sea of tears shed while Lily was consoled by the man who loved her.

  The fact that Levi would do such a thing was rock solid proof to Lily as to how truly remorseful he was for his actions. “I wish he was still here,” she whispered after wrangling her emotions. “I swear I felt that he loved me when I’s a child. He neva’ said it … but I felt it. Just by the way he’d look at me sometimes, and the way he’d smile back when I smiled at ’em. It was like he was sayin’ it with his eyes, and that crooked grin ‘a his.” Lily managed a brief smile over the memory. “But I dismissed it all afta’ he sold me. Figured maybe it was just my imagination runnin’ away with me.”

  James lightly tapped the journal in her hand. “These books prove that what you felt was real.”

  Lily nodded as she wiped her tears. “Not a doubt in my mind about that now.”

  James reached in his satchel. “I’m sure your fatha’ would love for you to have these too,” he said as he handed her five more journals.

  “There’s more to read?” Lily asked, sounding surprised.

  James nodded. “But they’re written in a language only your brilliant mind can interpret,” he said, gently kissing her on the temple.

  Lily looked a little confused by his statement, until she opened to the first page of one of the journals. Another wave of emotion hit her when her eyes were met with the sight of bars and bars of musical notes. With a smile suddenly illuminating her face, she flipped through page after page of music that her father had composed. In her excitement, she was quickly turning the pages, but suddenly stopped on a song entitled, “The Goddess of Spring.” Curiously, her eyes scanned each bar of the melody. Within seconds, tears began coasting down her cheeks, as the piano inside her brilliant mind played the song from her mother’s music box. As she listened to the melody in her head, her mind flashed back to the way she had danced with her mother to that song as a small child. The true identity of the figurines, and the song’s composer, now elevated the sentimental value of her cherished memory tenfold. That fond memory had led Lily to incorporate the snippet of that song into the first music piece she ever composed at eleven-years-old. Her tears now dotted the complete original version.

  In the third music journal, Lily found “A Beautiful Miracle,” the song Levi had mentioned writing for her in one of his journals. After months of humming the tune in his head, Levi had solidified the melody in pen. As Lily’s mind now replayed a song that her birth inspired, she wept tears that tasted like they had come from her very soul. Levi’s music journals held hundreds of other songs. Lily felt as though she was taking a walk inside the artistic world of her father’s mind, as she effortlessly comprehended the melodies he had composed. Some, he had actually played on the piano. But most, he had only heard in his mind as he sat writing alone in the barn late nights, needing a way to escape the miserable moments of his life.

  “I wish I could’ve heard ’em play all ‘a these,” Lily said when she finished skimming through Levi’s music. She looked over at all his diaries. “I just wish I’d’ve known all these things about ’em before he … be-before he…” She shook her head, trying to ward off another surge of tears. “I just can’t believe he’s gone,” she whispered, lowering her head as her tears fell yet again.

  “My fatha’s cruelty neva’ ceases to amaze me,” James replied. “Makes me wish he ceased to exist long before your fatha’ eva’ encountered ’em. Your fatha’ was already a tortured man. I know firsthand what it does to a man not to be with the love of his life, and to be deprived of havin’ your precious little girl in your life. It’ll leave a man on the verge of losin’ his mind. My fatha’s heartless lies were the last thing Levi needed to hear while he was already danglin’ on the edge of insanity.”

  “Seems there was nobody to pull my fatha’ back.”

  James shook his head. “Seems my fatha’ helped push ’em instead. I’m terribly sorry for that.”

  “Thank you for that. But my fatha’ made his own decisions. He made his mistakes and he chose not to live with ’em. I wish he’d chosen differently, but I can certainly unda’stand how the torture of his mistakes were far too much to take.”

  “That’s the part about ’em that inspired me, actually. His mistakes and his faults. He inspired me to always figure out a way to pull myself back from the edge of insanity, no matta’ what’s pushin’ me. He made me wanna always fight to give you the life you deserve. He inspired me to neva’ eva’ let society convince me not to love you the way you deserve eitha’. And I’d’ve neva’ given up searchin’ for you, if I’d had to.”

  Lily lightly kissed James on the lips in response to his words. She then melted into his embrace as his arms tightened around her. “I still can’t believe he came back for me,” she whispered.

  “And judgin’ by the date, it seems we must’ve just missed ’em by a few days.”

  “Or maybe even hours,” Lily replied, not knowing how right she was.

  James nodded. “Such a coincidence seems more proof that God had much bigga’ plans for the musical gift He blessed you with.”

  Lily glanced down at her father’s journal and shook her head, still in disbelief. “Musical gifts that God had given to my fatha’ first.”

  “Gave me chills when I first learned that. Pretty damn incredible, isn’t it?”

  Lily nodded, her tears still slowly subsiding. “That’s an unda’statement,” she sniffled. “Every word in these journals still has me absolutely astonished. I can still hardly believe any of it.” Lily turned to the first passage Levi wrote about Maya. “He loved my motha’ so much.”

  James gently turned Lily toward him. “And you too,” he said, pressing his lips to her forehead. “Seems he loves our little Rose just as much.”

  “Rose?” Lily questioned, looking puzzled by his statement.

  “I saw her.” James suddenly had a distant look in his eyes as his mind drifted away. “On the battlefield.”

  Lily still looked perplexed.

  “When my brotha’ put this hole in my leg, I thought it was the end for me, Lily. I felt my body slowly shuttin’ down. I closed my eyes and accepted my fate. I laid there prayin’ to God to forgive me for my sins. I begged Him to allow me into his kingdom, so I could hold my little Rose again for an eternity.”

  Lily wiped away a tear as it fell down James’s cheek. “It’s okay,” she whispered.

  “Right there lyin’ in the middle ‘a that bloody battlefield … God answered my prayers. I opened my eyes, and all the blood, the carnage, the dead bodies, the excruciatin’ pain in my leg … it was all gone,” James continued. “The sound of cannons and gunfire were suddenly replaced with laughta’
. The sweetest, most innocent laughta’ I’ve eva’ heard. But nothin’ was sweeta’ than what I heard next …”

  “What?” Lily asked, completely engrossed in the story.

  “Daddy,” James replied, emotion causing his voice to crack. “I fell to my knees with joy when I saw who was boundin’ toward me screamin’ that word ova’ and ova’ again,” he smiled, his tears now trickling faster.

  “Rose?” Lily whispered, her tears now falling again too.

  James nodded. “She jumped in my arms and wrapped her arms around me with all the force her little muscles could muster.”

  Lily squeezed James’s hand tighter and smiled over the way he was smiling at the memory.

  “People may dismiss me as insane or claim that moment was an elaborate dream. But nobody can convince me that what I experienced that day wasn’t real. I still rememba’ how soft Rose’s little finga’s were when she hugged my neck. I can still hear the sound of her innocent voice and recall the texture of her soft curly hair. It was real, Lily. There’s no doubt in my mind that I was holdin’ our daughta’ again.”

  “I believe you,” Lily replied, looking him in the eyes.

  James nodded in appreciation. “If it wasn’t for the fact that I wanted to get a good look at ’er, I would’ve neva’ put ’er down,” he smiled. “She looked to be about four-years-old. And she was indeed the little replica of you that I’d prayed for. She was so beautiful.” James caressed Lily’s cheek. “Just like ’er mama.”

  Lily smiled as butterflies fluttered through her stomach.

  “Like I’s some kind ‘a dunce stuck in a trance, I just stood there starin’ at ’er, completely speechless, just holdin’ her little hand,” James continued. “I should ‘a been the one comfortin’ her, but she was suddenly the one comfortin’ me with ’er words.”

  “What’d she say?” Lily smiled.

  “She told me not to worry about ’er …’cause ’er grandpa’s takin’ good care of ’er. I’s confused at first. I thought she was talkin’ about my fatha’. But then she explained that it was…”

  “My fatha’,” Lily whispered.

  James nodded. “Rose said he dances with ’er, reads to ’er, teaches ’er to fish, pushes her on the swings. Hell, he even built ’er a treehouse!” he exclaimed, shaking his head.

  Lily laughed lightly.

  “She said your fatha’s even teachin’ ’er to play piano. It seems all the things he wanted to do for you, he’s doin’ for grandpa’s girl, as Rose said he calls ’er.”

  “Grandpa’s girl,” Lily whispered, the term causing a grand smile to illuminate on her face.

  James nodded. “And she said that your music makes your fatha’ cry…”

  Lily suddenly looked at James with shock in her eyes.

  “Because he thinks it’s so beautiful,” he explained, caressing her cheek.

  Lily lowered her head and broke down in joyous tears again. “He can hear me,” she whispered.

  James nodded. “Auntie, Mr. Ben, and Ms. Anna Mae. Rose said they’re all there with ’er, and they all think your music is beautiful … and so does my motha’.”

  “Your motha’ too?” Lily tearfully whispered.

  The thought stirred James’s tears again. “She said my motha’ makes ’er dresses and fixes ’er hair up real pretty all the time. Rose said she tells her all the stories about you and me as kids. Said my motha’ even knew all along that we used to run off and play togetha’ in the woods … even knew that I loved you back then.”

  Lily smiled as her euphoric tears continued to flow down her cheeks.

  “There’s one otha’ thing Rose told me that I’ve been wantin’ to ask you about.”

  “What’s that?”

  “She said she wanted to hear your music, but that you wouldn’t play anymore without me.” He took Lily by the hand. “Is that true?”

  The look of astonishment on Lily’s face quickly answered his question. “Furtha’ proof that you really did hold our baby girl that day,” she whispered.

  “No doubt about that now for sure.”

  “Our little Rose is right where she’s s’pposed to be, ain’t she?”

  James nodded. “I believe that with all my heart. That fact brings me total peace.”

  “Me too.” Lily slowly looked around the picnic blanket at the children’s books her father had bought her, the pictures of her and her mother, and all the other trinkets that were symbols of her father’s love. “All ‘a this brings me peace, actually,” she said. “It hurts to know that my fatha’ is gone. But you were right. All ‘a this has brought so much closure. Wounds I thought would neva’ close are now healed completely.”

  “I’m happy to hear that … and your brotha’s would be too. That’s exactly what they were hopin’ for.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so.” James reached into his satchel and pulled out an envelope. “This was the message that your brotha’s literally held a gun to my head and demanded I give you,” he said, now able to laugh at the memory.

  “Lord! Guess they know how to ensure their demands are met,” Lily joked.

  “The urine runnin’ down my naked legs was proof that it worked,” James joked in return.

  Lily doubled over laughing. When her laughter settled, she took the envelope from James’s hand. She squinted her eyes, trying to make out the two faded words on the outside of the envelope. “For Lily,” she read aloud. She then took out the four-year-old tattered letter inside and began to read it aloud as well:

  Lily,

  If you’re reading this letter, then you have likely already experienced the same shock as my brothers and me when we first read my father’s journals. But if you’re anything like your mother, I know for a fact that you have a rock-solid inner strength that will help you overcome the things you’ve read. And if ever your strength should falter, I’m certain that the honorable man who handed you this letter will help see you through the emotional whirlwind created by our father’s true life story.

  The stories in his journals impacted all of us boys hard at first. But his writings answered one of the things we had always been the most baffled by: why he was never the same again after the day he sold you. Seems we not only lost you that day but lost our father as well. He went inside himself and was a completely different man altogether. A man that once took pride in interacting with us boys at dinner barely raised his head enough to chew his food after that day. From then on, he seemed to only ever speak when it was an absolute necessity. He developed a distaste for the piano, for church, and for life as a whole. Despite our father’s anguish, he mustered the strength to fulfill his obligations to us boys and love us in the best way he knew how. But we could still tell that it seemed his soul had suddenly been stripped away. We just never understood exactly why. After reading his journals, we now know that it was not his soul that was gone. It was you. It seems they may as well have been one in the same.

  Even after me and my brothers put the pieces of our father’s life puzzle together, we had a hard time swallowing the truth. I hope you can understand how the shock of these revelations caused my inner foundation to crumble. Our father asked me to be the executor of his estate upon his passing. But I was so angry that I simply could not bring myself to honor his wishes. It took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that the man I knew was an illusion. But I now realize that the only thing that mattered was the fact that his love for us boys was no illusion. Any coldness that he showed you, though, was. That is actually the main reason why my brothers and I decided to pass these gifts and journals on to you. I know some of the content was difficult to read, but we wanted you to know the beautiful parts embedded in between the madness.

  You see, my brothers and I had the great fortune of having a father who told us and showed us every day how much he loved us. You, unfortunately, had to go your whole life deprived of that beautiful emotional experience. My brothers and I wish we had the power to turn back the
hands of time to allow you to experience your childhood with a loving father, doting on you the way you deserve. Since we lack such Godlike powers, we figured the stories about you in our father’s journal were the closest we could get you to knowing the feeling of being embraced by our father’s warmth, kindness, and especially his love. We know that nothing will ever be a true substitute for the reality of that experience firsthand. But we hoped that at least now, on some small scale, you can feel the warmth, kindness, and love of our father, your father, embracing you tightly. The decision to do this was especially easy when we considered that it was our father’s dying wish to tell his only daughter, our only sister, how much you truly meant to him. We all now want you to know how much you mean to us as well.

  Much like our father, I have seven children of my own. Six boys and now finally one precious little girl. It only took me looking into the eyes of my own newborn daughter to realize how the mere thought of losing her would make me feel that I, too, had been stripped bare of my soul. Her birth instantly put into perspective how pure my father’s love for you must have been. So, as the executor of his estate, I am now honored to pass on to you more proof of how sincere his love for you was. His land, his home, and everything in it was left to you and Maya. So, too, was every penny of his savings and his life insurance. Per my father’s request, I have officially submitted your mother’s manumission papers. She is now free just as he wanted. Perhaps it was clear from his journals that he wanted to buy you back and manumit you as soon as he was legally able to do so. That fact was restated in his will. Most importantly, he wanted you and your mother reunited. So, if ever you choose to return, please know that you and Maya have a home here to live in together. My brothers and I feel that you and Maya rightfully deserve these things, and we are now happy to pass it all on to you. Everything here is yours … and so, too, is your freedom.