Forbidden Melody

by Magnolia Robbins

  “You weren’t at the staff meeting today,” my father finally answered my silent pleading. I sat back in my seat, turning my attention towards him. The staff meeting had been the furthest thing from my mind. Instead, I’d gone to practice, trying to drown out the constant thoughts that had been plaguing my mind.

  “I was catching up with classwork,” I managed to force out the lie, taking an excessive drink of scotch. “It’s midterms for the students.”

  “I’m quite aware,” my father replied. I could tell he was looking at me, though I dared not to return his gaze, in fear there would be guilt written all over my face. “However, the world doesn’t run on your schedule, Juliet.”

  “I know that—“

  “You’re not above the rules that are set in place for your colleagues,” he continued, leaning into the table. The gaze he had on me was causing my heart to beat painfully in my chest. “Perhaps it’s a good time to be re-evaluating your position at the Bard.”

  There was an awful taste in my mouth because of the way he was speaking to me. I couldn’t place if he was just referring to my absence or if this was yet another threat about my engagements with Emma Harvey. Perhaps, it was just my own paranoia. He hadn’t mentioned anything. My thoughts were going to ruin me. I had to stop thinking about her.

  “I won’t make the mistake again,” I replied, trying to diffuse the situation. My father looked satisfied with my response. Shortly after, my eyes fell back to my plate.

  My mother decided to interject her own small-talk into the conversation. Not surprisingly, like most things with my parents, it was something I did not care to be talking about. Nosy, prying motherly questions about my personal life. Questions that were appropriate for someone who didn’t lead the kind of life I did. Questions that showed how very little she knew me. How desperately she wanted me to be another person entirely. Someone who was married, offering her grandchildren she could fill her quiet life with.

  The usual answers spilled from my mouth. I was old enough now that children were becoming a very unlikely possibility. They were as unlikely of a possibility ten years ago as they were now. Sometimes, the idea crossed my mind to introduce my mother to Kira. That perhaps her presence might fill that void in her life. The crass remarks that would likely come from my father as a result stopped me.

  As soon as I’d emptied my plate and finished off my drink, I was already to my feet. An excuse to leave had been rattling in my head for a good ten minutes. It was a great way to fill the silent void in the room.

  “While this has certainly been a wonderful evening, I have papers to grade,” I said curtly. I didn’t even attempt to hide my sarcasm. After I tucked my chair underneath the table, I gave my mother and father a nod.

  “Your performances start next week?” My mother asked, getting to her feet to follow me out. I nodded, my eyes trailing to my father. He didn’t once look at me. Where I’d have been bothered by it years prior, I’d grown accustomed to his brush-offs. “Your father and I were thinking about getting tickets.”

  How my mother had convinced my father to go to a Philharmonic show was beyond me. He barely went anywhere that wasn’t business related. It hadn’t been a mystery to most that my musical gifts weren’t acquired from my parents, but from my father’s mother, Eleanor Hamilton. She was a legend of the classical world. One of the best violinists that had ever existed. My father had never had an interest in music, much to my grandmother’s disappointment. Instead, Eleanor spent her evenings and weekends bestowing her knowledge to me, her only granddaughter. I never really understood my father’s disdain towards music, especially when he put on such a face for the Bard. He very rarely attended my performances, so I was surprised to say the least. I raised a brow. “Really?”

  “He has a meeting with the board,” my mother handed me my soaking wet trench coat off the coat rack. I threw it over my arm, turning to look at her. That had explained their interest in going. They’d already be in the city. One of the board members had likely asked him to go. My mother seemed to read my mind, confirming my suspicions. “Alexander and Harriet asked us to go with them.”

  “I’m sure it will be an entertaining show, if you can keep him still for long enough to watch it.” I kissed her on the cheek softly. Gwyn was in the doorway, and I nodded at her before I turned towards the front door. “I’ve certainly been practicing enough.”

  “I doubt you need that much practice anymore.” My mother offered me a small smile.

  “I practice plenty,” I replied. “I practiced all afternoon.”

  My mother studied me curiously. “I thought you said you were working on classwork?” The slip of my tongue had caused my stomach to roll in fits. I shook my head, turning towards the door. “Speaking of which, I have papers to grade.”

  “Get yourself a new umbrella,” my mother reminded me as I opened the door. I turned to glance at her one last time over the shoulder, a small smile stretched across my lips.

  “Goodnight, Mother,” I said, stepping out into the drizzle.

  “Goodnight, Juliet.” I heard her call out as I shut the door behind me.

  I WAS THE LAST TO ARRIVE for composition class the following morning. There was something to be said about that, since I was never late for anything. A heat was building on my cheeks as I strutted inside. The class had been chatting quietly amongst themselves until I’d made it to the front of the room. When I looked up, all eyes were on me. Including Emma’s.

  I’d noticed that Emma and Lydia’s relationship had repaired itself over the past few weeks, and the realization was very clear to me today. Lydia sat in a very noticeably close proximity to Emma. They both looked as if they had been lost in a very amusing discussion, still recovering from chuckling to themselves. Lydia’s arm was wrapped around the back of Emma’s chair. I didn’t like the pretentious way she was looking at me, like she was judging the very air I breathed.

  It occurred to me I’d been gawking without actually speaking. I cleared my throat and turned my attention towards the front of the room. “As I’m sure you are all aware, midterms for this course will be on Thursday. I’d like to use this class period as a study hall. You are welcome to stay and utilize the classroom and myself, or you can feel free to leave if you have no questions or concerns. I would advise those of you who struggle on the quizzes in this course to devote ample time to studying. This will not be an easy examination, I assure you.” Jenny’s signing caught my eye. I watched her for a moment as she finished. “Feel free to do as you wish. All I ask is that you don’t use this time to socialize with your peers. That’s what hallways and lunchrooms are for.”

  My attention turned briefly to Lydia, ignoring Emma’s gaze on me. Lydia gave me a strange look, unsure if I had been referring to her directly. I didn’t give her the satisfaction of letting her know one way or another, eventually turning my attention back down to the notes on my desk.

  The room went quiet, outside of the shuffling of papers and textbooks. When my head drifted up a few minutes later, I noticed Lydia and Emma hunched together over her textbook. I watched Emma specifically, her teeth chewing on her bottom lip as she read, the fingers of her right hand buried in her untamed blonde locks. Before I had an opportunity to divert my attention, Emma had looked up. We locked on one another and the world paused. What did I do? Look down. Look anywhere else. I looked as she got to her feet, collecting a pile of notes in front of her. My eyes didn’t leave her during her entire approach. She swung along the outside of the desk till she was standing beside me. My heart was beating almost painfully by the time she’d set her notes in front of me.

  Ms. Harvey, I signed, forcing my face to remain stoic. How can I help you?

  The lecture from last week, Emma replied. I was a little distracted. I was wondering if you could clarify a few things. It was impossible not to look at her to speak, which made it impossible to not notice the playful look on her face. There was a high probability she was just making an excuse to talk with me.
I didn’t give her the gratification of acknowledging that fact.

  What things? I replied, looking down at her notes. Emma pulled up the additional seat near the desk, sliding it alongside my own. I fought the urge to jerk away from her. Instead, I forced several deep breaths and studied over her notes.

  Emma drew her body over the desk and pointed at the specific portion of the notes she was referring to. My eyes scanned over it, while my nostrils filled with the very prominent smell of lilies. Lilies in the rain, yesterday. Lilies on the patio at the mixer. Lilies were haunting my thoughts. I sat up rigidly, putting a gap of space between us. This material will be on the test, Ms. Harvey. I hope you aren’t as confused about it as you’re implying. We’ve been discussing this for weeks. The expression on her face was clear that she very much realized this.

  I just wanted clarification. If you wouldn’t mind.

  The problem was, I didn’t mind. Not in the least. If it had been another student, annoying me with such trivial questions, I would have cared a great deal. Emma watched me as I spoke quietly aloud. “Well, let's start with this,” I said, nodding down at the section of notes she’d initially pointed out.

  We talked for a good ten minutes, reviewing the main points from the lecture the previous week. I did my best to focus on reading her notes instead of looking at her directly. It made things easier. By the way she was so intently focused on me, I eventually decided that maybe perhaps her inquiry had been genuine. That was until we finished, and her hand landed on my leg momentarily.

  “Thank you, Professor Hamilton,” Emma said. Her hand moved away as she stood up from the seat, but the place on my leg where she touched, burned like it had been scorched with a hot iron.

  “Of course,” I managed to breathe, fidgeting in my seat. She moved swiftly back to Lydia, settling back down. We barely noticed one another for the remainder of the class. When students began to trickle out, I watched Emma wrap her arm around Lydia’s as they went to leave. She cast a glance over her shoulder as they started to head out of the room. An uncomfortable set of emotions blistered to the surface. The way Emma’s eyes lingered on mine told me she was taunting me on purpose. I couldn’t tell if I was more aggravated at her, or if I just disliked Lydia out of jealousy. Whatever it was, it was going to drive me mad.

  I found myself trailing out of the room, shortly after them. They were still close enough in the hallway I could call out. “Ms. Beckham,” I spoke quite loudly over the bustle. Lydia heard me calling, and the two of them turned back towards me. Lydia nodded in my direction before Emma and I met eyes. “Ms. Harvey, I’d like a word.”

  Emma turned to Lydia momentarily, mouthing something I couldn’t hear nor cared about. I waited impatiently as she finished and then casually made her approach back to me. As soon as she was in arms distance, my hand wrapped around her wrist, dragging her back into the classroom. The door shut rapidly behind us.

  By the look in her eyes, Emma must have thought she’d won the secret battle she’d been raging with me during class. I scowled at her, feeling unwanted emotions bubbling out of me. “Ms. Harvey,” I said, trying my best to catch my breath.

  “Emma,” she corrected me. I hated how big and captivating her stare was. It was outside of my breadth of self-control to resist it. In spite of that fact, however, I was still annoyed. Angry even.

  “Ms. Harvey.” I wasn’t about to let her win. I was in control here. At least I thought I was. Until I couldn’t fathom the words I wanted to say. Emma leaned back against the door, looking slightly up at me. There was an uncomfortably small amount of space between us. Not for the first time, I was doing a terrible job of rectifying the situation.

  “Yes, Professor Hamilton?” Emma still had that playful tone to her voice. It was enough to fuel the annoyed part of me. Enough to get me to take a small step backward and catch my breath.

  “I’m aware you weren’t completely satisfied with our discussion yesterday,” I tried my best to phrase it as gently as I could. “I’m not however, without feelings of my own. In spite of what you might think.” I wondered if she’d understand what I’d been implying. She seemed confused, so I elaborated, carefully. “Seeing you with Lydia...” My voice trailed off, finding myself embarrassed I’d even said what I had.

  Emma raised a brow at me, as if the thought had not remotely occurred to her. “Juliet,” she said softly, taking a step towards me.

  I didn’t move away, but I maintained a straight face. “Professor Hamilton,” I corrected her.

  “Professor Hamilton,” Emma repeated, a flash of annoyance crossing her face. “There’s nothing going on between Lydia and me. She’s my friend. That’s all.” It occurred to me after she’d said it, how ridiculous it had been she’d even had to admit that fact. How highly inappropriate it was. I wasn’t in charge of her social life. There had been very clear boundaries I’d drawn yesterday. Boundaries that hadn’t included me meddling in her affairs.

  My embarrassment of myself seemed to grow exponentially the longer we stood there together. I couldn’t find words, so I finally went to fetch my Vuillaume and satchel from the desk. Emma waited for me by the door when I returned. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect to come out of Emma Harvey’s mouth as we stood there. She surprised me, by not making a big deal of my inquiry. “I’ll see you for lessons?”

  “Emerson will be giving you lessons this week,” I replied, shifting my bag on my shoulder. “I’m leaving for New York shortly. Dress rehearsals.”

  Emma looked surprised. “How long will you be gone?”

  Truthfully, I hadn’t been asked to arrive till Friday morning. Truthfully, I hadn’t decided I’d be going early until the moment Emma and I had been in that classroom alone. It was the only thought that had kept me stable. The only thought that cut through the thousands of other inappropriate thoughts that raged through my mind every second we were alone together. That I could escape, even for a few days, from this terrifyingly powerful hold this woman had on me. The distance would do us both good. “I’ll be back next week.”

  As I had expected, Emma looked disappointed. She fought it off quickly, offering a small smile. “I’m sure you’ll be wonderful.” It was a polite thing to say, but I knew Emma had meant it affectionately too.

  It took everything in my power not to touch her, and force myself around her instead.

  “Good luck with your midterms,” I said, propping the door open. “Emerson was instructed not to go easy on you. I expect you’ll perform admirably. We have a lot of work next week.” Emma nodded at me and before we could speak further, I trekked down the hall. Afraid every single second more would send me further off the edge of what was feeling like a very impossible cliff.

  16

  Emma

  Franz Liszt, La Campanella

  Schubert, Fantasia in F minor

  Vivaldi’s Four Seasons- Spring & Fall

  Sweet Caroline by Neil Diamond

  I SAT NERVOUSLY AT the piano bench, my fingers flexing over the white keys. In my peripheral, I’d watched Emerson Reed walk through the doors of the classroom, but I’d yet to acknowledge him. We’d only briefly seen one another on a handful of occasions. The word was, as far as piano was concerned, he was incredibly difficult and sometimes hard to work with. He had a picky ear. Which was funny, because I didn’t think one could get pickier than Juliet.

  When he was just a mere few feet away, I looked out to him. He offered me a small smile, setting his sheet music on top of the piano and his bag along the floor. Every time I saw him, I thought he looked like he was meant to be sitting in a boardroom with a bunch of angry businessmen arguing about budgets and projected earnings. He always wore tailored grey suits and vests that paired well with his grey hair and neatly trimmed goatee. Tonight, he only wore his vest and dress shirt, which was rolled halfway up his arms. I’d expected him to look rather intimidating, but he was still smiling at me as he joined me alongside the piano. I’d noticed he’d made effort to look at me stra
ight on.

  “Emma Harvey, we meet at last,” Emerson said, extending a hand. “I’ve heard nothing but exceptional things about your ever-improving piano playing skills since your auditions.”

  No pressure, I thought, silently cursing Juliet in my head. “Thank you,” I replied, smiling politely. “You have quite the reputation yourself.”

  “Ah, the ruthless piano teacher.” Emerson let out a chuckle as he thumbed through some of the music on top of the Steinway.

  “I didn’t mean—“ I felt my cheeks getting flush.

  Our eyes met momentarily, the smile still stretched across Emerson’s face. “Ms. Harvey, I was merely teasing. I’ll admit, I’m not the most traditional, but it gets the job done. I like a good challenge, don’t you? I’m assuming you’ve warmed up for the evening?”

  “Of course,” I said as he sat a piece of paper on the stand in front of me. I found myself turning to look at it. Franz Liszt’s La Campanella. When I saw it, it occurred to me what a tight knit bond Timothy, Miranda, Juliet and Emerson must have had with one another. He couldn’t have possibly known this was one of my favorite songs in high school lessons with Miranda. At least not without Miranda having told him. Juliet and I had never played it before.

  “There’s no secrets between you all, is there?” I noted, looking at Emerson. He had a curious look to his face, one that took me slightly aback. It had made me feel so awkward, I quickly continued my thought. “I mean, Miranda must have said something to you.”

  “Miranda said she’d be furious if she didn’t hear you play this at the fall recital,” Emerson admitted. “She was in shock you hadn’t already been practicing it.”

  “In my spare time,” I admitted, running my hand along the keys, playing them in a straight line from low-to-high. “Miranda’s coming to the fall recital?” The idea of her watching me perform again filled me with mixed emotions, mostly nerves.

  Emerson nodded, taking a seat in the empty chair beside the piano, facing me. “Now, Ms. Harvey. Our time is valuable here. Let’s practice, shall we?”