“I thought you didn’t have time,” Emma said, crossing her arms over her chest. That small smile still lingered. It was the first time she’d smiled since I’d seen her again, and I savored it.
“I made time.” My attention turned to Kira, who was tugging at Emma’s tunic sleeve. She looked down, and the two fell back into conversation. Before long, the theater had filled up. Kira made her way down off the stage, and Emma resumed her place at her favorite piano. Emerson had volunteered to play at the other.
From my vantage point, if I turned my body slightly, I could see Emma at the far piano. I couldn’t make out her hands against the keys, but her face was in my direction, while Emerson’s back was towards me. She would face me the entire summer. Every chance I wanted, I could look up and there she would be.
Philip, the orchestra conductor, took the stage. After a few minutes of announcements, he introduced Emma, who blushed with the attention. Once she’d been embarrassed enough, we began practice on the first introductory piece to the show. The Holberg Suite was known for its cheerful up-tempo melody. I always enjoyed playing it because of the way the strings immediately dove in the high register. It always sounded like a collection of horses galloping towards the audience, with rolling excited notes and short strokes of the bow.
My fingers flew across the neck of the Vuillaume. As soon as I’d got a rhythm, I looked up to find Emma at the piano as her part began. The song was meant for strings, but the piano accompaniment was subtle in the background. When I focused, I could make it out perfectly, and was able to quickly discern Emma’s part from Emerson’s. Even now, she still added her own subtle flourishes. The small details that I had missed so much.
Emma’s focus turned upward, and we found one another. Every time I tried to force myself to give my attention to anything else, I found myself lost in her. It was almost as if we were the only two people, in a room of nearly a hundred, playing together. Just a piano and a violin. Two instruments that were meant to be heard together.
Rehearsal went on for hours. During breaks I would go, to check on Kira or make conversation with the strings, running over small details. I tried to keep focus on anything and everything else other than Emma. Even still, occasionally I’d find her amongst the crowd. She’d already begun introducing herself, making friends. She was a hard person not to like. Emma’s smile was infectious, and she was always polite and friendly.
In the afternoon, we worked on a piece for the middle of the show. I hadn’t given it much thought until that moment. Debussy’s Clair de Lune, a piece I often played solos for as first violinist. It was accompanied by a pianist in many portions. Usually it was something Miranda had undertaken. When I noticed Philip talking to Emma, it occurred to me that he was offering this opportunity to her. As they spoke, her attention briefly turned towards me. By the expression on her face, I knew she was aware we’d be playing together.
It was not what I was expecting. The plan had been to keep my distance. Allow her the chance to have her dream without my interference. I’d done enough damage. Philip approached me after Emma, and I had half a mind to offer the solo to another violinist for once. Before I could make the offer, though, Philip spoke, “Emma wants to do the duet with you.”
My entire body froze. I looked off towards the pianos, but her attention was elsewhere. She’d offered? I couldn’t imagine why. The last thing I would have ever imagined was for her to want to play anything with me again. Especially nothing as intimate as a duet like the one in Clair de Lune. Eventually, I managed a nod, and Philip wandered off to the front of the stage. Instead of the entire orchestra practicing, Philip announced that Emma and I would be performing ourselves, working through our parts.
Almost on instinct, I moved from my chair. I saw Timothy and Emerson watching me from their seats as I weaved through the sea of stands towards the back of the stage. Once I’d ended up at the beat up piano where Emma was, I stood beside her. Facing her, at the familiar angle I always had. Facing her in such a way that I could watch her play, and her, me.
Emma didn’t seem phased by my actions. In fact, her facial expression looked appreciative more than anything. We both turned our attention to Philip, who had nodded for us to begin. The entire orchestra had turned towards us. I ignored them, my focus solely on Emma. This piece was one that I didn’t need the sheet music for. We’d played it so many times, it was routine. I wondered if Emma knew the song.
I didn’t have to question long. My fingers drummed on the neck of my Vuillaume, readying the Morizot bow carefully. As soon as the slow roll of notes began, Emma chimed in behind me. The two of us were locked on one another. She’d not once looked at her hands, flowing over the keys with her intricate additions to the song that matched carefully with me. Once again, we were engaged in that intimate conversation. One that resumed as perfectly as it had left off three years prior. That spoke words we couldn’t say aloud.
Though words were nothing compared to music. Especially when it came to Emma Harvey. It felt as if our entire relationship was a string of complex songs we played to one another. Even now, with a song neither of us had intended to play together, it became a dance of emotions between us.
When we finished, Emma was panting softly. The orchestra members around us broke into a round of applause. Philip looked pleased and slightly surprised as he made his way back over to us. While he talked to me, he positioned himself so Emma could see what he was saying as he spoke, “I’ve never seen you play so well with a pianist before.” It was a testament to Emma. Miranda was a gifted pianist. I’d played with her and Emerson, and several others over the years. They’d all been exceptional, but Emma was on another level completely.
Emma looked pleased when I’d turned my attention briefly towards her. “Let’s try the whole orchestra,” Philip announced, weaving his way back to the front. As he walked, I considered returning back to my position with the strings, but decided to stay.
Another two hours passed and rehearsals ended for the day. I was collecting my things and noticed Emma in the middle of the theater playing with Kira. I let them be, stowing away the Vuillaume and my sheet music. As usual, it was a tedious ordeal. I cleaned the length of the violin with a polishing cloth, paying careful attention under the strings.
I’d grown so lost in my work, I didn’t notice Emerson and Timothy had come to stand beside me. Timothy had an amused look to his face, likely over my obsessive care of my instrument. “You and Emma make a good pair,” Timothy said to me as I closed the case. I knew he had meant as musicians and our duet performance, but part of me could help thinking it was for other reasons too. We had been a good pair. At one point, a long time ago. “I won’t tell Miranda that Philip thought she played better.” Timothy grinned, running a hand through his thick hair.
Emerson scratched his goatee, studying me curiously. “Are you sure you’ll be all right doing a duet? Wouldn’t you feel more comfortable having another violinist perform?” The two of them turned their attention on me, and I suddenly felt oddly uncomfortable.
“If Emma requested it and she’s fine with it, then I’ll be fine,” I replied, collecting my things from the floor. Once I’d gotten to my feet, I looked out to the seats, watching Emma and Kira chatting away as usual. It looked as if Emma was going over Kira’s book she had been reading, and by the look of it, was entirely too enthusiastic about it.
“As long as it’s not going to stir up trouble,” Timothy said. “We don’t need either of you quitting just a few weeks before the shows start.”
“No one will be quitting,” I reassured them, situating my satchel on my shoulder. They looked satisfied with my response. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Once I’d left, I made my way down the side steps and up the aisle towards Kira. Neither of them noticed my approach until I’d come to sit beside them in the row of seats. I sat opposite of Emma, Kira in between, watching as Emma moved her hand over Kira’s book. Like I guessed, Emma was quizzing her about it. I let
them talk for a while, watching. Finally, Emma looked up at me, realizing how long I’d been sitting there.
Sorry, she apologized. Am I keeping you? Once she’d turned her attention towards me, Kira followed suit.
I shook my head. Not at all, I signed back, offering a small smile. After I did, I sat back in the chair, letting the two return to their conversation, occasionally interjecting, but mostly enjoying the effortless way they interacted and how much they adored one another. They talked nearly an entire hour before Emma finally looked at her phone for the time. Once she had, she turned her attention towards me.
It was nice to play with you again, she signed. The last thing I’d expected her to say. I nodded in agreement as she got to her feet, and watched her walk away quietly.
26
Emma
Debussy, Clair de lune
Beethoven’s Piano Concerto
THAT NIGHT, I SPENT out on the veranda of Miranda and Timothy’s home in New Jersey, admiring the view of New York off in the distance. It was still light out and warm, so the three of us had decided to have dinner outside. Timothy had grilled while I helped Miranda make salads. I drank a strawberry wine, which was Miranda’s favorite, and listened to classical music in the background while we worked. The entire week with the Kepner’s had felt natural to me. They’d made me feel at home and welcomed. Their home was my home, as Miranda had so nicely put it.
After we’d finished cooking, we relaxed at the table, making conversation and enjoying the nice evening. The city traffic of New Jersey bustled below us. When my wine glass had been emptied, likely far more quickly than it should have been, I searched for Miranda’s glass to refill hers as well. Timothy had chosen to drink Sam Adams, his beer of choice. As soon as I’d noticed there was no glass, I studied her curiously.
“You’re not drinking?” The wine came from a special orchard on the west coast. It was the only kind she ever ordered, and she’d been having it even before she and Timothy had gotten married years ago. Miranda turned to look at Timothy briefly. I could tell she was suppressing a smile. “What is it?”
“Emma,” Timothy said, giving another glance to his wife. “We have some news.” He nodded at Miranda to continue his thought. As soon as he said it, I had a good idea what it was.
“I’m pregnant.” Miranda’s face erupted into a bright smile, her eyes glistening. She looked almost teary-eyed. The two of them had been trying for a baby ever since I’d left the Bard, with no success. I couldn’t even imagine how overjoyed they must have been.
“Really?” They both nodded almost simultaneously. “Oh my God,” I breathed, getting up from my seat to walk around the table to them. Both had gotten to their feet by the time I made it. “That’s amazing.”
“You’re the first person we’ve told outside of the family,” Timothy said, his voice growing quieter. “We just found out last week.” I was flattered, to say the least. “We’re still trying to wrap our heads around it.”
“I’m sure,” I replied. I doubted even I would wrap my head around it for a while. Miranda and Timothy were going to be parents.
Once the dishes were cleaned up, Miranda sat with me out on the patio again, just the two of us. It wasn’t unusual for us to spend long bouts of silence together. We both knew each other so well, sometimes we just enjoyed each other’s company without the need for conversation. Tonight seemed to be one of those nights. Occasionally, I’d look over to watch her, still in awe that she was going to be a mother in a few short months. Her long, curly brown hair was whipping in the wind, and she looked lost in thought.
Miranda turned to look at me, and we smiled at one another. “How are you doing with rehearsals?” The question cut through our silence like a knife. It looked as if she had a train of thought with the question, but I didn’t ask. When I nodded, she continued, and it had been what I expected. “Everything is okay with you and Juliet?”
A small sigh escaped me. My attention turned out towards the city for a minute, losing myself in the flickering lights and how they reflected off the water. “I don’t know,” I admitted. It felt okay, at least for the most part, but being around her had certainly not been the easiest thing in the world. We’d hardly spoken to each other beyond practicing our duet, or when I spent moments with Kira.
The thought made me curious. “Why did Juliet decide to adopt Kira?”
Miranda smiled then, shrugging. “I’m not sure. It surprised us too. She just showed up one day and announced she’d done it. She didn’t give much of a reason as to why.” I sat back in my seat. Juliet had always been so adamant and dedicated to her career. I knew she’d cared for Kira quite a great deal, but it was still surprising.
Again, silence filled the space between us. Miranda drummed her fingers on the chair arm, pondering. “Did she even care?” I watched Miranda turn to look at me. She had known what I’d meant. It was hard to tell why she was hesitating to respond to me, but I didn’t press her, waiting. When she let out a soft sigh, I felt my heart sink into my chest.
“It’s complicated with Juliet,” Miranda phrased her words carefully.
“I’m aware,” I replied, somewhat more harshly than I had intended to. The desire to know how Juliet felt after I’d left consumed me, overwhelmingly so. So when it hadn’t been the first thing she’d said, I’d found myself frustrated. Wondering if our entire relationship had been for naught. Miranda must have seen the concern on my face because I watched her reposition herself in her seat.
“She was miserable,” Miranda finally admitted. She didn’t look happy telling me that fact. “We were worried she was going to drop out of the Philharmonic all-together. She wouldn’t speak to us for weeks and then all she did was ask about you.”
I sat shocked for a moment, unable to process the idea that Juliet had done such a thing. “She was going to quit the Philharmonic?”
A flicker of anger towards her father caused me to ask what had been on my mind for a long time now. “Why does she let him control her life like that?”
“Fredrick Hamilton keeps her on a tight leash,” Miranda said. I’d never met him, but he’d stirred up so much trouble in my life it was hard not to dislike him.” Miranda looked as if she wanted to continue her train of thought, likely to comment that our relationship wasn’t appropriate even without Juliet’s father in the picture.
I didn’t quite know what to say. My body sunk back against the chair, and I stared out into the city lights. Every thought in my head was going a million miles an hour. I could barely keep up with myself. “I guess it will never happen then,” I finally said, some small piece of me having wished we could have picked up where we left off. Another part was ashamed I’d even wished for it, remembering how devastated I had been years prior. Seeing her again was starting to make me lose my mind.
Miranda didn’t have much of a response for me when I looked back over to her. Finally, she drew out a long breath of air and offered me a fragile smile. “She does love you, you know.”
The way she said it shot a pain through my chest, the likes of which I’d rarely ever felt. It ached. My face flinched in response. “I’ve known Juliet a long time, and she rarely devotes any time to anything outside of her music. And now Kira. But she’s asked about you all the time since you left. I don’t think you’ve ever left her mind.”
She had to stop. Those words were going to drive me mad. If only Miranda had known how many nights I’d spent reading about her, chasing down her shows on the internet, thinking of her before I drifted off to sleep. It was almost embarrassing how wrapped up in her I’d gotten. How wrapped up I still was.
I felt a hand grasp my own, and I turned to look at Miranda once more. She was smiling at me still. “All I’m saying is, don’t think she doesn’t care about you. She does, more than you could possibly know. It’s just a complicated thing.” Once she’d finished, I nodded. We went quiet again for a minute before Miranda decided for us to head inside for the evening. We had an early morning ahead
of us and a long week, full of rehearsals.
I still couldn’t believe I was here.
By the end of the week, my initial nerves at the Philharmonic had started to dissipate. I’d introduced myself to nearly everyone. We’d worked through the entire length of the show several times over, and I’d gotten a feel for most of the songs. There were still some I would need to practice, but I was starting to feel comfortable.
On Friday, we spent most of the morning working on Brahms Violin Concerto in D major. The movements didn’t have a lot of piano portions, so Emerson and I sat and enjoyed watching while the others practiced. The orchestra part was thick and elegant, and I imagined it filled the entire breadth of the theater as the instruments bellowed.
When the strings began to play, I couldn’t help but look through the break in the crowd of musicians towards Juliet. Ever since the first day of rehearsals, I’d noticed she’d positioned her seat in such a way that both of us could see one another. It wasn’t clear if it had been intentional or if she’d always sat in that precise spot, but I hadn’t minded. Instead, it was nice to occasionally look up and see her playing. The past few days, I’d been paying attention more and more.
The Allegro non troppo, a cadenza and first movement of the concerto, was filled with passionate violin. Every Philharmonic show, Juliet had her own solos. She had gotten them since she first joined the orchestra almost two decades ago, and she was deserving of them. The small pieces in this song she played were no exception, beautiful and raw and passionate.
I watched as they practiced, over and over the same portions. Each time, Juliet would burst into her small bits alone, like an elegant dancer lost in the music. While I didn’t know the song well enough to catch every note, Juliet played on the high registers with a fiery passion not unlike anything else she played. Her body bucked and swayed, falling in and out. The choppy bowing turned long and drawn out. Then short, quick runs up and down the length of the violin. Double-stops flew from her fingers, effortlessly.
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