Maestro

by Thomma Lyn Grindstaff

  If Elena had stopped stalking them, then what the hell was she doing here now? Sure, it could just be a friendly visit. Annasophia wished she could convince the knot tightening in her stomach.

  ###

  Maestro came back into the living room, followed by Elena, who was wearing an elegant, dark-blue pants suit. She'd put her hair up in a French twist. Annasophia wondered if the woman had ever looked mussed a single day in her life, then she remembered Maestro telling her that Elena had come from a poor family, from parents who had pretty much ignored her.

  Sympathy bloomed in her heart. That was something she and Elena had in common: neglectful parents.

  Annasophia stood up and moved to Maestro's side. Dizziness hit her, and she closed her eyes for an instant. Then she opened them again and focused on Elena. “Thanks for the card,” she said.

  “How did you know it was me?” Elena winked and smiled playfully.

  “Lucky guess,” Annasophia said, waving the card in the air to spread the scent of jasmine. It heightened the scent coming from Elena herself. Despite her current goodwill, the knot persisted in her stomach, and she wanted nothing more than to turn on the ceiling fan to help disperse the smell. She'd wait until Elena left. She might take that as a hostile gesture, and goodness knew, Annasophia didn't want to get her riled up again. If she did, Elena might start humming.

  That was the last thing Annasophia wanted.

  “Are you okay?” Elena asked. “You looked kind of ill just now.”

  “It's just the ups and downs of being pregnant. I got a little dizzy.”

  Concern spread across Elena's face. “Oh. Does that happen often?”

  “Not really,” Annasophia lied.

  Maestro gave her a sidelong glance, but to his credit, he said nothing. The glance, though, had apparently told Elena all she needed to know, because she took Annasophia's arm and led her back to the loveseat. “I think you ought to sit down,” she said. When Annasophia was seated, Elena sat beside her. “If you're having trouble with this pregnancy, you should get all the rest you can.”

  Pretty much what her OB-GYN had said. Coming from Elena, though, it made Annasophia's head spin. Maestro sat in the recliner caddy-cornered to the loveseat. Damn. Annasophia wanted to be sitting next to him. She craved the reassurance of his touch. Instead, here she was, leg-to-leg with Elena. She quelled her impulse to pull away.

  “Well, how are you doing?” Maestro asked Elena.

  She examined one of her long, sculpted fingernails, then gave Maestro a warm glance. “Quite well, thank you.” She paused to include Annasophia in her glance. “I was in the neighborhood, and I thought I'd come over and tell you I'm happy for both of you, and that I won't be bothering you.” She focused on Annasophia. “If you need a friend, though, I'm close by and willing to help.”

  She nodded stiffly. She wouldn't be calling on Elena anytime soon or in the future, but she would accept her words graciously. What else could she do? “Thank you. I'm fine, but I appreciate your offer.”

  “I mean it, though. If the pregnancy is hard on you, I can do all kinds of things to help. I could run errands, I could grocery shop for you, and I could help around here with housework, cooking, whatever you need.”

  This was just too bizarre, Elena practically offering herself up as Annasophia's maid. Annasophia glanced at Maestro, who was staring at Elena as though she had turned purple with yellow polka dots. “It's very nice of you,” he said. “But surely you don't have the time to do all that. And as I remember, you've never exactly been fond of domestic–”

  “Well, this is different,” Elena said. “I guess I should confess something to you. I don't know whether I'll ever have children. I might never marry again. So I guess I'm kind of hoping that I can be something like an aunt to your baby. It really would make me happy to be a part of your baby's life.” She looked at Maestro. “I know it's over between us. But we've been a part of each other's life for a long time. And with the coming of this baby, I'd like us to have a fresh start, as friends. Maybe even something like family.”

  Maestro goggled at her, and Annasophia expected she was doing the same. She couldn't begin to imagine how to reconcile Elena's behavior with that nasty expression she'd worn in the photo, and she didn't even want to try. She and Maestro would kindly but firmly tell her no. It wasn't that they weren't willing to be civil, but the idea of Elena skulking around and worming her way into their baby's life made Annasophia's stomach knot draw tighter.

  She looked at Maestro, hoping he would answer. This was his ex-wife, after all. Maestro caught Annasophia's glance, then turned to Elena. “What you're suggesting is very kind. We appreciate it. We truly do. We wouldn't mind you visiting from time to time, either before or after the baby is born. But we don't need any help. We're managing just fine, the two of us, and that's how it needs to stay. We wish you well, and we always will.”

  Annasophia loved how he said we instead if I. She wished she were closer to him so that she could take his hand and squeeze it in appreciation.

  “But three is a crowd?” Elena said, still smiling.

  How Annasophia would love to nod! Instead, she clenched her hands together in her lap. Let Maestro handle this, she told herself. He was a lot less likely to piss Elena off.

  “I wouldn't have put it so harshly,” Maestro said. “But indeed, a second woman in the household would be a little... de trop.”

  “A third wheel,” she said. “I guess I figured that. Still, I can tell Annasophia isn't feeling well, so I thought I'd offer. Anytime you need me, just call. And I'd like to drop in on you two and the baby from time to time. I love kids. I'd be honored to become like an auntie to your baby.”

  Auntie Elena. Annasophia's stomach rolled, and she took a deep breath. Maybe she wasn't giving Elena a fair chance. She was lonely. Maybe she did accept that Annasophia and Maestro were together for good, and perhaps she really did want to be friendly. Maybe she did like the idea of becoming close to their baby. But if she truly had accepted reality, why would she still be trying so assertively to insert herself into their lives? Friends was one thing, yes, and that could happen, but it would take time and trust. This felt pushed. Forced. Intrusive.

  Maestro was staring at Elena as though she were an alien from outer space. “Since when do you love children?”

  “Honestly, the idea of kids has been growing on me,” she said. “Since the divorce, it's hit me that I might never have children of my own, and it makes me feel like something might be missing in my life. When we were married, I took for granted that...” She closed her mouth as though she had said too much. In Annasophia's opinion, she almost did. She didn't want to hear a word about whether or not Elena and Maestro had talked about having a family. Not only was it none of her business, but it made images spring up in her mind that felt like knives in her heart. Maybe that made her a jealous shrew, but she didn't like thinking about Maestro and Elena doing what she and Maestro did every day. Well, several times a day. Despite herself, she grinned. She would bet her eyeballs that Maestro and Elena hadn't gotten it on as much as she and Maestro did. Somehow, Elena struck her as the sex is icky type.

  Elena quirked an eyebrow at Annasophia, who wiped her grin off her face and tried to look innocent. “Which do you want? A boy, or a girl?”

  Annasophia would play dumb, since she already knew what – who – the baby would be. “Either one is fine with us. We just want a healthy, happy baby.”

  “Well, that's what's important.” Elena stood up, then held out her hand to Annasophia. “I'll go now and give you two some privacy. But I just wanted to say, you're really lucky. Remember that. Don't take it for granted, like I did.” She looked at Maestro. “The same applies to you, Will. You two have got a really good thing. Don't ever let it go.”

  What a sweet thing to say! Annasophia smiled at Elena. “Thank you. I really appreciate that.”

  Maestro nodded. “I do, too.”

  “Well, I like to think I've grown up a
little.” Elena headed for the door, then turned back around. “Remember, though. I'm not far away. I can be here in just a dash. So call me if you need me. I really would like to help out, if I can.”

  “That's nice of you,” Annasophia said, a little glow warming her chest. Perhaps things were okay after all. She wouldn't be calling Elena, no matter how sick she felt. Maestro was perfectly happy to do the shopping, the cleaning, the cooking, and whatever else needed to be done. Even if she, Annasophia, felt perfectly well, she and Maestro split household duties 50-50.

  But perhaps she could finally put to rest that haunting mental image of Elena's hateful look in that photo. She picked up the card Elena had sent and sniffed it. Jasmine didn't smell so bad, after all. She put the card with other letters she intended to keep, then she went to the recliner and cuddled up on Maestro's lap.

  * * * ~~~ * * *

  Chapter Two

  Maestro put down the phone and gazed at Annasophia, his heart in his eyes. “I'm sorry, Schätzchen, but I have difficult news.”

  Annasophia already suspected what it was. She sat down hard on the loveseat, holding her belly: her big, painful belly that was killing her back, her pelvis, and pretty much everything below her shoulders. The damn hemorrhoids made it difficult for her to sit. She would never have imagined her breasts could get so big and sensitive, and they were leaking milk on top of that. Man oh man, what a mess she was, in her eighth month of pregnancy. Strangely enough, she still loved being pregnant with Maestro's baby, but in the shape she was in, he had to do pretty much everything for her now. The most comfortable place for her was bed. In her original timeline, 2010, she would undoubtedly have been put on bed rest, and even now, in 1974, her OB-GYN had advised her to take things as easily as she could. “You have to go on tour, don't you?”

  He nodded. “I wasn't expecting it to happen quite so soon, but my agent does whatever he can to get me into the very best venues, and things lined up well for me to hit Carnegie Hall, Kennedy Center, and the best performance halls in Europe–”

  “Europe? Let me get this straight. I'm going to be here, giving birth to our baby, and you're going to be playing the piano in Paris, France?”

  “No.” He rushed to her and sat down on the loveseat beside her. Putting his arms around her, he said, “You're going with me, dearest. There are excellent hospitals on every leg of the tour.”

  “Maestro, you don't understand.” Tears streamed down her face. “I can't go with you. I can't go anywhere or do anything. I'm pretty much an invalid. You know that.”

  He kissed her cheeks, her forehead, and her neck. “You can stay in hotel rooms. You don't have to go to the performances. Just stay snug in our rooms while we travel. You'll have room service, and I'll do everything I possibly can to keep you comfortable–”

  She began to sob. “No. It just won't work. All that traveling. In trains, airplanes, cabs, whatever. I just can't do it. I have to stay here. You heard the doctor at my last appointment. He said to avoid stress, avoid overexerting myself, and remember, he said to avoid travel as much as I possibly can.”

  “I know, I know.” Maestro's jaw tightened in frustration. “Even then, I was wondering whether I'd have to go on tour. I was hoping so much that it wouldn't be necessary until after the baby was born.”

  “Well, can't you get out of it?”

  “I wish I could, but it's just not possible. This is what I do, how I make my living. I can't say no. I might not get another line-up like this for, say, another six months. Maybe not even for another year. So I have to go. But I still say, there's got to be a way for you to go with me.”

  “There isn't. No matter how easy I take things, I'd still have to go through all the stress of travel, and I'm just not going to do that to myself or to our baby.” Annasophia pulled away from him and sobbed into the arm of the loveseat. “You're going to be off in London or somewhere far away while I'm here all alone and our baby is coming into the world...” Her voice dissolved into sobs. She couldn't find words. Only tears.

  He held her as she cried. It wasn't right, and it wasn't fair. Why now, of all times? Of course, she was proud of Maestro, proud of his career. The last thing she wanted to do was to sound jealous or disapproving of his career, to remind him of Elena...

  She remembered Elena's face as she had told them, three months ago, that she wanted to be friends and to be like an aunt to the baby. She had looked so earnest, and kind of sad, on top of that. Though she hadn't returned for a visit, Elena called once every few weeks, just often enough to keep up with how things were going. Maestro never answered the phone. Annasophia figured he was letting the friendship between her and Elena take root as it would, or wouldn't. Despite her initial trepidation, Annasophia had become accustomed to talking to Elena. Of course, she hadn't said too much about her difficult physical condition. Every time Elena asked about the pregnancy, Annasophia glossed things over. But this pregnancy, as much of a joy as it was to her heart, was playing hell with her body.

  She might need to call on Elena for help. There would be nobody else, with Maestro gone. Elena could have tried to send her back to 2010 at any time, while she had been visiting three months ago or during the telephone calls. She hadn't. There hadn't been the slightest indication, whether in her face or in her tone, that she would try such a thing. If anything, Annasophia had developed a kind of trust in Elena over the last few months. Elena was lonely, and if not for Maestro, Annasophia would be lonely, too. Maestro and Elena were the only people Annasophia knew in this timeline. As long as Elena wasn't behaving obnoxiously, then Annasophia was willing to give her a chance as a friend.

  She and Annasophia were in a similar boat: Elena was a woman out of sorts, Annasophia was a woman out of time. They also had a great deal in common with regard to their growing-up years. Though Annasophia had never become desperate enough to stalk anyone, she could understand the kind of painful feelings that could lead to such actions. Both Annasophia and Elena had experienced a great deal of pain and rejection as part of their upbringing, so that was another possibility for bonding on common ground.

  Maestro had apparently been watching her face. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Remember how Elena said she'd help me out if I need it?”

  He furrowed his brow and put his hands on her shoulders. “I don't know if I like where this is going.”

  “Huh? I thought you kind of liked it that she and I are becoming friendly. I mean, you two grew up together, so there's got to be some kind of bond of friendship there.”

  He kissed her cheek, then sighed. “I do wish her well. But our marriage did a lot of damage to that friendship we enjoyed when we were kids. It was a funny sort of friendship, anyhow. As we grew up, we grew farther apart in our interests, and by the time we were adults, there wasn't much left of the friendship. As I look back on it, we married more for physical reasons more than for anything else.” Maestro paused and glanced anxiously at Annasophia, as though to see if his comment had made her jealous.

  “Don't worry. I understand, I really do.” She understood a heck of a lot more than she wanted to explain, actually. She'd had plenty of experience with physical urges, but it had only been lately that she had experienced love. And both Maestro and Elena were very attractive people, so no wonder they'd had the hots for each other. Her groupies were plenty hot, too, but none of them could hold a candle to Maestro, in any way imaginable. Thinking now about sex without love, Annasophia had to admit that it would never hold the same charm for her again, were something to happen to Maestro or to their relationship.

  What a thought. She pushed it from her mind. It wasn't worth dwelling upon.

  “I'm fine with the two of you talking on the phone,” he said. “Friendliness is great. But honestly, Schätzchen, I don't trust her enough to leave her here alone with you while I'm gone. You know she could send you back at any time–”

  “She's already had ample opportunity to do that, whether in person or on the phone, an
d she hasn't. And she's being very kind to me. It's as if she has truly realized we're going to stay together. Something about my pregnancy must have driven that home. And it's as if she truly wants to have friends in this world.” Annasophia sighed. She didn't want to tell Maestro about her past, but she would share this with him. “In my timeline, I felt alone a great deal. My only friends were you – the older you – and our son, Matt. Of course, I didn't know he was our son. He was your son and my friend. I have a lot of fans, yes, but I don't know what I would have done without you and Matt as my closest friends. I might have...” She trailed off, not wanting to get into specifics about the excesses of her old lifestyle.

  “Might have what, dearest?” Maestro said. “You've never talked much to me about what things were like for you in that other time.”

  “You don't want to know,” she said.

  “I think it's more that you're afraid to tell me,” he said, stroking her cheek. “Isn't that it?”

  She couldn't say a word. If she said yes or nodded, she'd implicate herself. By not replying, though, wasn't she also implicating herself? Damn it.

  “I love you unconditionally,” he said. “I know about your difficult upbringing, and I know about some of the hurt you've experienced in the past. I also know that sometimes folk musicians lead rather wild lives. I don't expect that's any different in future than it is now.”

  She would hardly call herself a folk musician – the 2010 term was singer-songwriter – but yes, what Maestro said held true. Not all musicians led wild and woolly lifestyles, but sex, drugs, and rock and roll was a significant part of the day-to-day lives of many performing artists, both now and in the future. For her, it had been sex. No drugs. She had never touched either drugs or alcohol. Life with her addicted mother had taught her that drugs and alcohol were best left alone. But sex? Early on, she had discovered that sex, like music, made her feel alive, so she supposed it had become something of an addiction in its own right.