Eternal Melody

by Anisa Claire West

  Hours later, as the midday sun crested over a pristine horizon, Luke and Rebecca still had not budged from the bed. Yawning indulgently for the thousandth time, Rebecca said, “We really should bathe and dress. Tonight is only the second night of our performance, and we must be in top form.”

  Luke followed suit with a yawn of his own and replied, “You’re right.” Then, he sat up suddenly as though he were in a rush to leave.

  “I didn’t mean right this instant, Luke!” Rebecca protested, catching hold of his hand and putting it to her breast.

  “Ah, don’t entice me again, temptress.” He warned, reluctantly removing his hand. “I want to go to the newsstand and see how our opening performance was reviewed.”

  “I completely forgot about that! Could you go get me a newspaper so I can read it from the comfort of my chamber?” She requested sweetly.

  “Women always want something.” He mumbled good-naturedly, as he rose to dress himself. “Anything else you require, Miss?”

  She gave him a slow, simmering smile. “Yes. A strudel would be delightful.”

  “Any particular flavor, or may I surprise you?”

  “You may surprise me.” She permitted, as he strode out of the room chuckling under his breath.

  Rebecca exhaled luxuriously and sank back down between the cool sheets, still making no effort to dress and begin the day. Gazing over the bedpost, she saw that her costume was in alarming condition, having been dumped and left to wrinkle on the floor. This realization finally forced her back to reality, and she tore back the sheets so she could attend to the gown. It had to be in wearable condition that evening.

  Rebecca had just finished dabbing herself with rosewater when Luke returned with a bakery bag in one hand and a newspaper in the other. “Rebecca!” He shouted from the stairwell, unable to contain his excitement.

  “Hush! Get in here!” Rebecca pulled him inside her room and closed the door firmly. “What’s all this commotion about? I don’t want the ladies on this floor to know that I’ve had a gentleman up here.”

  “Never mind them!” Luke exclaimed, catching his breath as he handed her the bag.

  “Mmm, it’s still warm.” Rebecca murmured, eagerly pulling out the oven fresh blueberry strudel and sinking her teeth into it. “Do you want some?”

  Luke shook his head. “No, please enjoy it. You will never believe what the papers are saying about our performance!”

  It was obvious that they had received a favorable review, but Rebecca wanted to know every detail. “Translate it for me, Luke!” She urged, glancing and scowling at the German newspaper.

  “I cannot promise a verbatim translation, but the review, in effect, says this: The International Philharmonic Orchestra did an mesmerizing job interpreting Mozart’s The Magic Flute. Although the low budget was reflected in the amateurish set design and costumes, the musicians were exemplary.”

  Rebecca cringed at the insulting reference to the costumes and resolved not to tell her grandmother, who had made those frocks a true labor of love.

  Luke skimmed the next paragraph and continued, “In the role of Pamina, young Rebecca Meadow is believable and brimming with promise. Her pure, untainted voice matches perfectly with the innocent character of the princess…” Luke paused, searching for something else in the review that would be of interest to Rebecca. “The rest of it goes on to praise Mr. Graysen’s conducting as well as the entire orchestral ensemble. There’s not a negative comment in it, save for the brief mention of how evident it is that we’re working on a budget! Isn’t this wonderful?”

  Rebecca clasped her hands together delightedly, swallowing a great bite of strudel. “It’s incredible! This is exactly the stepping stone we need to take us to the next level. I hope Mr. Graysen has read it.”

  “I’m certain he has. But, just in case, I’ll tuck this away and bring it tonight to share with everyone.” Luke was sorely tempted to linger just a bit longer in Rebecca’s chamber, but good sense prevailed as he stood up straight and kissed her chastely on the forehead.

  “What’s the meaning of that grandpa kiss?” She inquired with a smirk.

  “Pardon me?”

  “My grandfather always used to kiss my forehead like that. Coming from him, it was adorable, but from your lips it’s a little insulting.” She explained, feigning offense but intuitively recognizing that he was trying to scurry out of there before they made a thermometer burst with their chemistry.

  “I promise that you have nothing to be insulted about. That kiss was not even a prelude to what you will have from me later.” He replied mischievously, throwing her a final backwards glance while he headed to the staircase.

  She shut the door behind him, laughing as she heard him clunking down the stairs in a mad effort to escape her charms. Feeling buoyant, she popped a honey lozenge into her mouth and began final preparations for her the night’s performance.

  *****

  “Madam, may I say that you look positively enchanting this evening?” Christopher Graysen took a sweeping bow before Gloria Meadow, who was glowing in a sea green dress and silver necklace.

  “You may, Sir, but you would cause an old lady to blush.” She replied modestly, nonetheless patting her elegant chignon for his benefit.

  He laughed heartily and assured her, “If you are an old lady, then I am an old man! Age only need be a quantity not a quality, you know. The years can be invisible depending upon our frame of mind.”

  Gloria nodded in fervent and flattered agreement, looking around the theatre excitedly at all the spectators who had come to see her granddaughter’s second performance. It was a proud and defining moment for the Meadow matriarch, as she was able to vicariously experience her girlhood dream of a singing career. Again, she had tried to persuade Gregory and Ethel to join her in support of their siblings, but they had adamantly refused, preferring to waste away in the hotel room rather than enjoy a night out. Gloria returned her attention to the gentleman before her, dashing and eccentric in his charcoal gray suit with signature floppy bowtie.

  “If I had a glass of wine in hand, I would toast to keeping the years invisible!” Gloria laughed in unison with Christopher.

  “You should have a glass of wine in hand. Would you like to accompany me to dinner on Sunday night? That’s the first evening we won’t be staging a performance, and it would be my pleasure if you accepted.”

  “Dinner sounds lovely.” Gloria sighed, unable to remember the last time a man had courted her.

  Back in Michigan, every season had seemed like winter, as she felt so cloistered in that hilltop house. In Vienna, she was miraculously reliving her maidenhood and found it supremely refreshing. Lost in her reverie, Gloria hardly noticed when her granddaughter entered the room. But Rebecca quickly captivated her vision, as her blue eyes shone more lustrous than sapphires and her complexion glowed luminous as a dewdrop.

  “Becky, how beautiful you look!” Gloria remarked, taking a long look at the young woman and instantly perceiving a change. Rebecca had not been very forthcoming about her liaison with Luke, but Gloria was experienced enough to know that only a lover could be responsible for such vivacity.

  “Thank you, Grandmother.” She embraced Gloria warmly and turned to Mr. Graysen. “Good evening, Mr. Conductor! Did you read the reviews?” She asked with childish enthusiasm.

  Judging from the conductor’s ear to ear grin, he had devoured every single review that had been printed. “Indeed, I did. Bravo, young lady! You have brought both esteem and sincerity to our little production. Tonight should be even better than last night, as I’m sure your nerves have calmed a bit.”

  “Oh, yes. My heart was in my stomach last night, but tonight…well, my heart is right where it ought to be.” She trailed off quietly, reflecting on Luke and feeling that organ leap magically from her bosom to his loving arms.

  Her dreamy demeanor did not evade Christopher or Gloria, but out of respect they remained silent and offered her parental smiles. “You had b
etter get backstage, my dear.” Mr. Graysen encouraged, as Rebecca waved a cheerful goodbye and disappeared behind the set.

  When the curtain rose, Rebecca spied Greta in the audience, looking conspicuously enraged, even more so than the previous night. Rebecca surmised that the witch must have read the reviews and been enflamed with envy. As an herbal lozenge evaporated on her tongue, Rebecca swallowed nervously, suddenly uneasy about the performance. It maddened her that one look in Greta’s miserable direction could affect her so dramatically.

  The scene changed amidst titters and coughs from the audience. Biting back her mounting anxiety, Rebecca looked over to Luke, who winked at her from behind his sheet music. Garnering strength from that small gesture, Rebecca loosened her gold belt to allow for more breathing room.

  She launched into her next tune with an airy sweetness in her voice, gazing towards the heavens while she crooned the German melody. From the corner of her eye, she observed unrest in the audience. Someone was trying to jump over people’s laps to get out of the row. With horror, Rebecca realized that Greta was the source of the sudden upheaval. Greta stood several hundred feet away from the stage, looking murderous. Desperate to maintain her composure and not break character, Rebecca continued to sing, even as Greta clamored towards the stage.

  Mr. Graysen, with his back to the audience, had no idea what disturbance was unfolding. When Greta reached the foot of the stage, finally an usher grabbed onto her arm and tried to guide her back to the audience. But she shrugged him aside in a wave of fury and, unbelievably, climbed onto the stage.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Rebecca gaped wordlessly at the grotesque spectacle of Greta, in her scandalously clad body, hopping over the barrier onto the stage. A collective gasp resounded in the audience as the orchestra, still oblivious, played on. Rebecca continued to stand there paralyzed, wishing that Luke would look up from his blasted violin and come to her aide.

  With a malicious gleam in her eyes, Greta scuttled over to Rebecca and grabbed a mass of red hair. Rebecca’s scream pierced through the entire auditorium as Mr. Graysen and the orchestra finally realized that something was very wrong. Everyone was frozen to the spot as Greta dragged Rebecca into a vicious catfight, clawing at her porcelain skin and ripping at her dress.

  Wildly, Rebecca flailed her arms, trying to free herself from Greta’s tigress grip while still maintaining at least a fiber of her dignity. Greta’s nails dug mercilessly into the flesh of Rebecca’s neck and raked sharply across her cheek. Instead of striking Greta and pulling on a clump of her yellow hair, Rebecca shielded her face as the hellion persisted in attacking her. Rebecca’s passiveness seemed to infuriate Greta even more as she shouted a German expletive. Another revolted gasp echoed from the audience, leaving Rebecca trembling with shame. After a dreadfully long minute of brawling, two ushers finally leapt onto the stage to restrain Greta.

  The brawny young fellows each grabbed an arm, pulling at the ferociously angry woman as though she were a wishbone. Rebecca, relieved to have the wildcat off of her, nonetheless said a silent prayer that the ushers would not snap Greta in two. As the ushers dragged her kicking and screeching off the stage, Rebecca touched a hand to her throat, as blood dotted her fingertips. Burning tears flooded her eyes as she realized the damaging extent of the scratches. There was a deep scratch on her cheek from which blood liberally flowed, and Rebecca knew that the jagged wound could leave a scar if not properly tended.

  Mr. Graysen rushed over to Rebecca’s side, as the chorus members formed a comforting circle around her. Still, no one seemed to know how to proceed. Finally, Mr. Graysen turned awkwardly to face the audience and raised his voice for all to hear.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, please excuse us while we get things back under control. Drop the curtain, please.” He instructed, as the stage hands quickly obeyed.

  The heavy curtain fell, protecting Rebecca from the scrutiny and morbid curiosity of the audience. She began to bawl, unable to comprehend what had just taken place. Through her hiccupping sobs, she looked around for Luke, needful of his soothing voice and arms, but he still did not appear. Instead, Ryan ran over from the orchestra pit as Gloria came round the bend from the backstage door.

  “My dear Becky, are you alright? Who was that wretched woman?” Gloria exclaimed, completely flustered.

  Rebecca was too upset to respond, so Ryan spoke up. “She’s the singer whom Becky replaced. Originally, Becky was the understudy, but Mr. Graysen made some changes.”

  Gloria looked at her grandson skeptically. “That wicked outburst was much more than a case of sour grapes. That woman must have some sort of vendetta against our Becky. Either that, or she should be institutionalized!”

  Ryan looked down, unsure of whether to reveal what he knew. In Munich, Ryan had observed Greta pursuing their colleague shamelessly. He had asked Luke about it and learned of their previous torrid affair.

  Gloria was too wise to be fooled. She said, “Is Greta a friend of that boy Luke Springwell?”

  Roughly, Rebecca wiped her tear-streaked and scratch ridden cheeks and said, “Grandmother, please let us not discuss this here.” Then, seeing that Gloria was not about to be put off, she whispered, “Yes, Grandmother, yes she was his…lover. Apparently she still wants him and thinks that I am some sort of a threat.” Fresh tears brimmed Rebecca’s eyes as she remembered the dumbfounded audience, still sitting in their seats waiting to be entertained.

  All the while, Mr. Graysen stood gravely by, listening and literally wringing his hands in despair over what to do next. With as much sensitivity as he could seize, the conductor asked, “Shall I tell everyone to go home and we will give them refunds if necessary? I don’t see how the show can continue after that disastrous spectacle.”

  Rebecca nodded, wishing she could muster the strength to continue, but feeling too humiliated. Mr. Graysen gave her one last sympathetic look and ducked under the curtain to announce to the audience how the show was over for the evening.

  “Don’t worry, Becky. She will surely be arrested. That was criminal assault. Who knows? She may even be deported to Switzerland.” Ryan said, putting a protective arm around his sister.

  “Deported or institutionalized!” Gloria rejoined, fuming and itching to chase after the brutal chit to teach her a lesson about hurting her beloved granddaughter.

  Rebecca remained sullen, hanging her head in a shame that continued to build, as she knew her family suspected that Luke was her lover, and they were right. She looked down at her dress, where the stitches had been cruelly pulled apart, and more tears dropped with the realization that a flaxen-haired wolverine had shredded her grandmother’s hand-sewn gown.

  Mr. Graysen slipped back under the curtain, rejoining the group. Addressing no one in particular, he grumbled, “We had one excellent night that earned such encouraging reviews. But we cannot ride the coattails of that brief flicker of success. Tonight was crucial to show our follow-through and artistic stamina. Greta has no right to interfere with the livelihoods of so many people.”

  It was the first time any of the orchestra members had heard a negative word from Mr. Graysen’s mouth, and it lowered the morale to some untouchable place below zero. Rebecca bit down hard on her pinky nail, feeling responsible for the chaos that had erupted. Even Ryan, usually chipper, looked ghostly pale and nauseated.

  Surprisingly, it was Gloria who spoke next, snapping her fingers in front of her granddaughter’s mottled face and asserting, “Enough of this gloom! I will not stand by and watch an infinitely talented group of musicians crumble and wither into nothingness simply because some foolish girl threw a temper tantrum. That’s all it amounts to, you know! She has no power over any of you unless you let her. Tomorrow night, you will all come back and be as new. This horrific episode will be in the past, and more glorious performances will be in your future.”

  Christopher Graysen stared at her in open admiration, as the life affirming luster slowly returned to Rebecca’s eyes. The other m
usicians stood in the background, reinvigorated from the motivational speech.

  “You’re a wise woman, Mrs. Meadow!” One of the bassoon players exclaimed, as his colleagues broke into hearty applause.

  “You are indeed wise. Thank you.” Mr. Graysen said warmly, in a low voice just for Gloria to hear. Then, he addressed his team. “Everyone, go home, get some sleep, and be back here at regular time tomorrow. I will see to it that no such incident ever taints one of our shows again, you can be sure. Good night, and be safe.”

  The musicians trickled out of the auditorium in twos and threes, as Rebecca still stood backstage, immobilized. Although her grandmother’s advice had been enlightening, she could not help but wonder if her peers were all gossiping about her on their way home. But that was not her most pressing concern. With a plunging heart, she thought how Luke had vanished right after the onstage attack, without a single inquiry about her wellbeing. Could he have gone after Greta? The ushers had likely taken her to police headquarters, and Rebecca now wondered if Luke would somehow go soft on his former lover and try to bail her out. The notion was enough to make her feel as though she were suffocating inside an airtight cell.

  “Come on, Becky. Let me walk you home. You’ve suffered enough trauma for one night.” Ryan put a supportive arm around his sister’s waist, as though he expected her to faint right there like feeble little damsel.

  “I’m fine, Ryan.” She said, steadying herself without the crutch of his arm and beginning to walk ahead of him.

  While Gloria and Christopher walked behind them, softly speaking amongst themselves, Ryan caught up to Rebecca and said, “Greta knows about you and Luke.”