“You know how much I love you,” he whispered. “And how much I believe in you.”
She nodded.
“We’re going to New York next week, and if Maestro Leplin is as wise as I think he is, he’ll offer you a position there in New York. But if that doesn’t work out, we’ll discuss what our next steps will—”
“Even if it does work out, Tate, and Maestro Leplin says yes, we have your position in Nashville to consider. Don’t forget, Mrs. Cheatham leveraged her very considerable influence so you could keep your position.” She squeezed his hand. “For as long as you—”
He gently drew her a few feet away from the others. “I resigned, Rebekah.”
“You didn’t!”
“I did.”
“Tate . . .” She shook her head. “We said we were going to talk about it first.”
“No, you said we were going to talk about it first. I never actually agreed.” He gave her a look.
She sighed. “I wish you would have—”
“It’s your time now, Rebekah. You helped me fulfill my dream, now I’m going to do everything I can, for as long as I can”—he cradled her face—“to help you reach yours.”
Tears rose in her eyes. “I love you, Maestro Whitcomb.”
“Finally, the woman gives me the respect I’m due.”
She laughed and stood on tiptoe to kiss him, hoping at least one of his brothers would see. Hearing the whistles, she knew she’d succeeded.
“Emil!” Opal called out and started running for him. Billy followed, hot on her heels.
Rebekah turned to look, and went still inside. It was Emil. But he wasn’t alone. A man and woman were with him. “Wait,” she said softly. “That’s Esther. From Belmont. What is she doing here?”
“Rebekah,” Tate whispered. “There’s something else you need to know, my love.”
She turned to him, and the emotion in his eyes caused her own to water. She looked back at Esther walking arm in arm with the man beside her, his gait encumbered by a limp. And he walked with the aid of a . . .
Rebekah’s heart buckled. She found it hard to breathe. Much less to comprehend that—
“Go to him,” Tate whispered.
And she did. She ran as fast as she could, across the ridge, back through the years, and into his arms. “Oh, dear Jesus,” she whispered, hugging Demetrius tight, his soft laughter like music to her.
“Hello, sweet child,” he said in the voice her heart remembered.
After a moment, he loosened his hold, but she held on tight, which only made him laugh all the more.
Finally, she stepped back, wanting to take him in. And though she still recognized the Demetrius she loved, the person standing before her was a mere shadow of the robust man she’d said good-bye to only ten years ago. What Barton Ledbetter’s cruelty had done . . .
Fresh tears welled up in her eyes.
“Shhh now, Miss Bekah.” Demetrius stepped closer, leaning heavy on his cane. “Don’t you go cryin’ for me none. The Lawd’s been good to me, child. And him lettin’ me see you again is livin’ proof of that.”
Rebekah’s breath came hard. “I’ve missed you so much.”
His smile was a gift. “I been missin’ you too, Miss Bekah.”
Remembering, Rebekah pulled Buttons from her dress pocket and held the wooden carving out to him. “I’ve carried it with me all these years.”
“So I see.” Demetrius took it from her. “That cute little pug never had him much of a nose to begin with. And what little he got now is all but gone.”
Rebekah laughed along with him.
“Hello again, Miss Carrington,” Esther said with a smile, not a hint of discomfort or evasion about her now. On the contrary, her warm brown eyes met Rebekah’s without hesitation.
Feeling a presence behind her, Rebekah turned to see Tate. “Demetrius, Esther, may I introduce my husband-to-be, Tate Whitcomb.”
“Demetrius.” Tate offered his hand. “Good to meet you, sir.” He nodded to Esther. “Ma’am.”
“Good to meet you too, Mr. Whitcomb.”
Tate slipped an around Rebekah. “The morning after you told your mother and Delphia about your stepfather, before you left to come back here, I got a telegram. From Delphia.”
“Telling you he wasn’t dead,” Rebekah whispered, a few of the pieces already jarring into place.
“I’m sorry if what we done hurt you, Miss Bekah.” Demetrius reached for her hand. “But your grandmama and Delphia, they done it to keep me alive. If Mr. Ledbetter had ever got wind that he didn’t kill me, he would’a come back to finish the job for sure.”
“My grandmother knew?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Demetrius nodded. “Was her idea. She said he thought me dead, so why not go ahead and make it that way. She paid for my funeral. Then paid for my care when I’s healin’ too. Only a pocketful of people was wise to the truth.”
“So you lost all of your friends because of me.”
He shook his head. “Way I looked at it, I got to keep the ones I really liked. Then got rid of those I didn’t.”
Everyone laughed.
“But I gotta tell you, ma’am”—Esther’s smile faded a bit—“you ’bout scared us to death that day you showed up at Belmont. I didn’t know who you were at first, but I soon learned. And every time I saw you, all I could think about was Mr. Ledbetter and what he done to my man. And what he’d come back and do, if he found out.”
Demetrius slipped his hand into Esther’s, the love between them evident. “We thought about leavin’ town, but it’s hard enough to find a good place to live out your days. And the Cheathams are kind folks. Then when we found out you was only stayin’ for a while . . .”
Though Rebekah still had a thousand questions, more of the puzzle pieces fell into place. And there’d be time—sweet, precious time—to ask them all.
Demetrius looked long and hard at Tate, then grinned. “I always figured that with Miss Bekah bein’ ’cross an ocean all them years, she’d find herself some man from a far-off place to marry.” He made a point of looking around. “And sure enough, she did!”
Tate laughed along with everyone else.
“Come on, big brother.” Emil grabbed him around the neck. “Let’s get this hitchin’ done so we can eat! Virgil and Banty sent some of their best moonshine. But”—his voice lowered—“don’t tell Mama.”
Minutes later, thanks to Cattabelle rounding everyone up, the music started—Emil on the banjo, Rufus playing the dulcimer, and Benjamin the mandolin. Rebekah stood with her hand tucked into the crook of Demetrius’s arm, her grandmother’s red ribbon in her grasp.
“Thank you for giving me away, Demetrius.”
“I’m proud to be doin’ it, Miss Bekah, since your own fine father can’t be here.”
They waited as Opal traipsed down the path before them, dropping flower petals onto the field grass.
“I got a message from Mrs. Cheatham for you too, child.” Demetrius’s brow furrowed. “She said somethin’ ’bout you borrowin’ her red case for your trip to New York. Said you best come by and get it before you go. That she knows you’ll take fine care of it.”
Rebekah smiled. If auditioning on the Molitor Stradivarius didn’t get her into the New York Philharmonic, nothing would.
As Demetrius walked her toward her future, even as he anchored her to her past, Rebekah’s gaze locked with Tate’s. Never could she have orchestrated the events in her life in such a way that this would happen. Only God. The true Master Conductor.
“Who gives this woman to be married?”
“I do, sir,” Demetrius said, fatherly pride in his voice. Then he kissed Rebekah on the cheek.
Tate drew her to his side, and as they said their vows, Rebekah noticed him watching her lips as she recited hers. When the preacher finally announced that it was time to kiss the bride, Tate smiled and kissed her full and long on the mouth, much to the delighted whoops and hollers of his brothers. Then he drew back slightly
and whispered, “I’m not sure I heard that well enough, Mrs. Whitcomb. Would you mind repeating it?”
And so she did.
Author’s Note
Dear Friend,
Thanks for taking yet another journey with me to Belmont Mansion in Nashville, Tennessee. When I first began brainstorming the three Belmont Mansion novels, the themes came easily, thanks to Mrs. Adelicia Hayes Franklin Acklen Cheatham, the mistress of Belmont, and her special affinity for three things—art (A Lasting Impression), nature (A Beauty So Rare), and music (A Note Yet Unsung).
So when I came across the history of women in orchestras in my research, I immediately knew the female protagonist in this novel would be a woman aspiring to be in an orchestra. Many of the situations depicted in this story are straight from history, and the struggles Rebekah Carrington endured were common for female musicians of that era. However, though a very few enormously brave, tenacious, and oh-so-talented women managed to gain acceptance into symphonies in the latter nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, it was generally well into the 1970s before orchestras worldwide finally began to welcome females into their ranks.
To find out more about the historical details included in this story, visit the book page for A Note Yet Unsung on my website (www.TameraAlexander.com) and click the “Truth or Fiction?” link. You’ll also find links to music from this book on that page, in case you want to listen along!
As far as we know, Adelicia Cheatham did not own a violin, much less the real Molitor Stradivarius. However, considering her wealth, she could have owned such an instrument if she’d so desired. Until recently, the owner of said Molitor Stradivarius has been the famed violinist Anne Akiko Meyers. If you haven’t heard Ms. Meyers play the Molitor, please treat yourself and indulge in that pure pleasure. I spent countless hours listening to classical music as I wrote this story—including the work of Anne Akiko Meyers—and my appreciation for classical music and its composers grew infinitely.
The opera house depicted on the front cover is the Odessa National Academic Theater of Opera and Ballet in Ukraine (circa 1880s). I took artistic license placing an opera house of this size and elaborate style in Nashville in the 1870s and modeled the opera hall in the story after this theater in Ukraine.
The physical ailment Tate suffered from is based on the disorder that some present-day physicians believe plagued Beethoven—the then undiagnosed disorder of otosclerosis (caused when one of the bones in the middle ear, the stapes, becomes stuck in place, hence preventing sound from traveling through the ear). The first successful operation for otosclerosis was performed in 1956.
Whatever became of Adelicia Acklen and the Belmont Mansion? Adelicia left Nashville—and Dr. Cheatham—in 1886 and moved to Washington, DC, with three of her adult children. The exact cause of her separation from Dr. Cheatham is not known. Adelicia died on May 4, 1887, while on a shopping trip to New York City. She is buried in Nashville’s Mt. Olivet Cemetery in a family mausoleum with her first two husbands and nine of her ten children. March 15, 2017 will mark the 200th anniversary of Adelicia’s birth.
Months before Adelicia’s death in 1887, she sold her beloved Belmont. In 1890, it was opened as a women’s academy and junior college. In 1913, the school merged with Ward’s Seminary and was renamed Ward-Belmont. The Tennessee Baptist Convention purchased the school in 1951 and created a four-year coeducational college. Today the mansion is owned by Belmont University and is operated and preserved by the Belmont Mansion Association, which invites you to visit and walk through nineteenth-century Nashville history.
Finally, the poem included in the story entitled “The Last Load” was written by my father-in-law, Fred Alexander, for his own dear father upon his passing. When I came to that scene between Tate and his father, Angus, Fred’s poem just naturally fit into place in my story. Fred passed away in January 2016, so he never knew I was using his poem in this book. But he’d always wanted the two of us to write together. So Fred . . . thank you for sharing the page with me, as well as your life—and your wonderful son.
Until next time, friend,
Discussion Questions
Rebekah is gifted in a way that isn’t socially accepted in her day. Yet she still strives to achieve her dream. How do you relate to her stubbornness and tenacity? What decisions, if any, would you have made differently? And before reading this novel, were you aware that women weren’t allowed to play the violin in public in that era?
What caused Rebekah’s grandmother to accelerate the plan for Rebekah to be sent to study in Vienna? Do you think this decision was justified? Abuse issues (and potential abuse issues) are handled so differently today versus the nineteenth century (or even thirty years ago). Discuss the differences in how society then and now chooses to handle such occurrences and whether we have progressed in that regard.
As mentioned in the author’s note, Tate’s illness was otosclerosis, yet it went undiagnosed due to the level of medical knowledge at the time. Is anyone in your life deaf, or going deaf? What have you learned from them? What an incredibly frightening prospect for anyone, but especially for a composer. At one point, Tate contemplates how odd it is that finally, once he’s learned to use his gift for God, his hearing may be taken away completely. Discuss the spiritual aspects surrounding this possibility and whether you believe God not only allows bad things to happen to those who love Him, but that He sometimes specifically brings those challenges into their lives, and why.
Adelicia Acklen Cheatham, the real woman who built the Belmont Mansion in 1853, is a prominent secondary character throughout the Belmont Mansion novels, and A Note Yet Unsung is no exception. Discuss her character arc through this book and—if you’ve read A Lasting Impression and A Beauty So Rare—throughout the series. What do you like most about Adelicia? What do you like least? How are you able to relate to her?
In every one of Tamera’s books, there are cameo appearances of a character or characters from other series (like old friends dropping in to say hello). Did you catch the cameo appearance in this novel? Who was it, and what novel was he/she originally in?
Based on Rebekah’s past experience with musicians, she’s certain Tate is struggling with an addiction. When faced with the possibility of losing her dream, she takes matters into her own hands, follows him, and confronts him. Review that confrontation (Ch. 19 and 20). What does she accuse him of? If given her same circumstances, how would you have handled the situation? Have you or someone you loved ever struggled with an addiction? Were you aware that the substances mentioned in this novel were used by musicians in the nineteenth century to enhance creativity?
Tate is somewhat embarrassed about his family and about Rebekah meeting them. Could you relate to his feelings? Has there ever been a part of your life that you’ve been hesitant to let others see? Please share.
Tate struggles throughout the story to finish his symphony. Where is he finally able to complete it? And why do you think that is? What does this say about him? And even about us (if the same sentiment holds true for you as it does for Tate)?
Darrow Fulton was Rebekah’s childhood nemesis, of sorts. Did you have a childhood nemesis? How did that person shape you in younger years? And if you’ve been so fortunate (or unfortunate, as the case may be) to cross paths with them again, what was your experience? Any lessons learned?
Rebekah’s relationship with her mother was estranged, at best. And Barton Ledbetter being in the picture only complicated things. What issues do you believe were at the heart of the rift between Rebekah and her mother? Can you relate to those issues? If yes, how?
Toward the end of the novel, Rebekah and Tate are led down a long tunnel in the opera house. What does she see? And who does the depicted scene remind her of? Were you surprised by how that relationship in her life turned out? Or did you expect it?
Do you have a favorite scene in the novel? A favorite character? What is the takeaway message for you from A Note Yet Unsung?
“Come Thou Fount of Every Bl
essing” held special meaning for both Rebekah and Tate. Do you have a favorite old hymn that means a great deal to you?
Please take a picture of your group (holding up your books!) and share it with Tamera at [email protected]. Be sure to include first names of all those pictured. Tamera would love to share the picture on her Facebook Page.
For the complete discussion guide for this novel—including recipes from the story—visit the book page for A Note Yet Unsung at www.TameraAlexander.com.
With Gratitude to . . .
My family . . . you’re simply the best. Thank you for all the times you love me anyway.
Karen Schurrer, my editor at Bethany House Publishers. Where do I begin, dear friend . . . This is our ninth book together, and I’ve learned so much from you. Not only about writing but about life. And love. And courage. Bethany House will not be the same without you. But I know you’re following the course God has marked out for you. And that your dear Jeff is part of that “great cloud of witnesses” cheering you on. All my love and gratitude for the past twelve years, and every best and sincerest wish in your future endeavor. Every life you touch will be blessed.
Raela Schoenherr, editor at Bethany House Publishers, for sharing your editing expertise on this story. And for your kind patience as it came together.
Helen Motter, for sharing not only your editing expertise, but your knowledge of classical music history—and your passion for playing the violin.
Natasha Kern, my literary agent, for sharing your depth and knowledge of storytelling with me. You inspire me.
Jeannie (Dickey) Phipps, for sharing your experience of being deaf. You helped me get inside Tate’s head in a way I never could have on my own. Bless you, sweet cousin.
Deb Raney, my writing critique partner, for carrying me all these years. I know, I know . . . I’m gettin’ heavy.
Mark Brown, Jerry Trescott, and the staff at Belmont Mansion for letting me live in Adelicia’s world—and for inviting me (and all my readers) so lovingly into her home. I couldn’t have written these books without you.
A Note Yet Unsung Page 46