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Eternal Melody

Page 23

by Anisa Claire West


  Reveling in the knowledge that they would be performing one of the most hilarious and entertaining operas ever composed, Rebecca beamed, listening excitedly as Mr. Graysen introduced the mystery girl at Ryan’s side. Rebecca learned that Concetta was a classically trained ballet dancer who also sang background vocals. She would be a member of the chorus, Mr. Graysen announced, as Ryan seemed unreasonably pleased with this news. Even at a great distance across the room, it was clear that Ryan was infatuated with the ebony-haired beauty.

  The meeting adjourned more quickly than Rebecca had expected, and she decided to slip away into her bedroom for some much needed solitude. Quietude and meditation were scarce commodities these days.

  Belly flopping onto the comforting blankets of her canopy bed, Rebecca shut her eyes, but did not sleep. Instead, she lay awake wondering what it was about Milton that left her with a chill coursing down her spine. It could not simply be that she was in love with Luke. Even if she had never met Luke, Rebecca imagined she would still feel cautious about Milton. The man’s life just had so many gaping black holes in it. He never spoke of his own life except to brag about the balances of his bank accounts or what grand place he would take her to next. Unsettled but still consumed with a desire to seek lover’s vengeance against Luke, Rebecca drifted off to sleep, dreading the coming of morning and champagne brunch with Milton.

  *****

  The next day, Concetta moved into the villa, aided by a beaming Ryan and his perpetually sulking friend, Luke.

  Smiling graciously as Ryan lifted her suitcases to bring upstairs, Concetta asked softly, “Does your friend ever smile?”

  “Not these days.” Ryan replied regretfully.

  “I think he needs a wife.” She observed innocently.

  “You’re absolutely right. Every man needs a wife, though.” Ryan said awkwardly, tripping up the stairs and knocking his elbow against the banister. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” He said quickly as Luke called to them from downstairs.

  “Is there any other luggage out front you need help with?” Luke inquired.

  “Yes, one more box on the doorstep. Thank you.” Concetta called with a toss of her raven curls, as Ryan nearly tumbled down the stairs.

  While the men were helping Concetta with her bags, Rebecca was becoming increasingly impatient waiting for Milton to arrive for their brunch date. The day was ripe to be outdoors, and she felt like a prisoner inside the villa withering away while the foolish man dawdled. Perhaps he had forgotten about their plans, she thought hopefully. But she quickly discarded that idea as Milton had seemed only too eager to see---and paw---her again.

  The noon hour came and went and still there was no sign of Milton. Gathering her purse and sweater together, Rebecca decided that he had effectively broken their date. It was too late for brunch, and she refused to spend another millisecond waiting for the oaf. She waved goodbye to Ryan and Concetta, who were headed toward the parlor for some refreshments after their strenuous morning of hauling and unloading. When she passed Luke in the corridor, she deliberately ignored him and stepped out into the unseasonably balmy midday. Immediately she regretted that she had brought a sweater, but was not willing to put it inside and risk encountering Luke again.

  Feeling the ecstasy of independence and freedom once again wash over her, Rebecca walked miles away from the villa, not caring if she got lost. It was high time for another adventure, she decided. Certainly the train derailment had been thrilling, but being stranded with an unyielding Luke had soured the experience. Or was it her who had been unyielding? Rebecca shrugged defiantly, depleted from constantly weighing and analyzing who was to blame.

  She proceeded along a rugged pathway lined with magnolia trees, pausing to savor the delicious blossoms. Little animals darted in the path, making Rebecca laugh. The quiet path led to a bustling outdoor bazaar. A black signpost announced that one of the city’s many Catholic churches was holding a fair to benefit the parish, selling everything from knit scarves to chocolate covered strawberries. Intrigued, Rebecca weaved through hundreds of vendors, glad she had brought her purse in case she found something that struck her fancy.

  Leather products were everywhere and sold at bargain prices that she found hard to resist. Knowing she would come away from the bazaar with at least one souvenir, Rebecca continued to browse the tables as the vendors tried to entice her. Finally, she decided upon a small, hand-crafted lantern painted in dazzling shades of blue and green. As she was paying the vendor, Rebecca spotted a familiar figure from across the bazaar.

  There was no mistaking the tremendous height and incongruously slight frame of the man who was perusing a table of jewelry. Rebecca watched, stunned, as the woman standing next to him reached up to give him a kiss when he handed the vendor some bills in exchange for a necklace.

  Boldly, Rebecca strode over to the table where the pair was standing, watching as Milton Thornbrenner placed the necklace around the woman’s neck. She was about his age with light brown hair and small, but expressive blue eyes that regarded Rebecca suspiciously.

  “Milton, do you know this girl?” She asked in the same regional English accent that Milton possessed.

  Milton sealed the clasp on the necklace and turned ghostly pale as he beheld Rebecca, standing there waiting for an explanation. “I---uh---well---from concerts, yes. She is a singer, and you know how much I adore music, dear.”

  From his faltering tone, Rebecca knew intuitively that this woman was his wife. A quick look at their ring fingers confirmed this. Angrily, Rebecca thought how Milton had deceived her, never wearing his wedding band---and never speaking of his life back in England.

  With lingering suspicion, the woman addressed Rebecca. “How do you do? I am Mrs. Thornbrenner.”

  “How do you do, Madam? I’m Rebecca Meadow.”

  “I’ve just arrived from England to surprise my husband. Our sons are with us too…over there playing.” She pointed to a field where two school-age boys were kicking a soccer ball around.

  “You have children?” Rebecca gulped, feeling like a home wrecker.

  “Why yes, of course. That’s why I came to Venice, to reunite our family. Milton’s business affairs often keep him far away from home. The boys miss him terribly when he is gone.” She looked up at her husband accusingly. “But now we shall go back to England, all four of us together!”

  Finding his voice again, Milton spoke in a voice finely polished with insincerity, “Yes, dear, I cannot wait to return to England with you.” Turning to Rebecca he said impersonally, “I hope you enjoy the rest of your day. Do take care.”

  “Good day Mr. and Mrs. Thornbrenner.” Rebecca said in a tiny voice before disappearing between the masses of people at the bazaar.

  When she knew she was out of the couple’s sight, she began to run blindly, heedless to the possibility that she could break the lantern she had just purchased. She ran until a debilitating cramp dug into her side, forcing her to stop and recuperate her lungs.

  Somehow, she had managed to hold onto the lantern. Clutching the souvenir to her chest as she sunk onto a pillow of grass, she tried to comprehend what had just been revealed. A married man had chased, wined, and dined her when he had two young children in another country. Although they had never been intimate, nor had she nursed any romantic feelings for him, she still felt complicit in what had taken place. Why hadn’t she ever asked Milton if he were married? It just seemed so preposterous that a man of such little charm and character could have persuaded any woman to marry him. Rebecca never would have believed it had she not come face to face with his wife and their sons.

  As the pain in her side lessened and her breathing returned to normal, Rebecca gathered up her wits and decided to return to the villa. She walked unhurriedly, trying to enjoy the verdant scenery and forget Milton Thornbrenner. Halfway through her journey, Luke flashed in her mind, and she slowed her pace to a veritable crawl, wondering how she was going to face him and tell him that her prince was a viper in disguis
e.

  *****

  As soon as Rebecca returned to the villa, she headed to the veranda in a quest for privacy. To her dismay, she was greeted by the enthusiastic calls of her brother, along with Concetta and Luke, who were drinking cold beverages and snacking on biscotti. Had she not been seen, Rebecca would have turned around and fled to the solace of her bedroom, but as Luke’s eyes bore through her, she knew she was stuck.

  “Come sit with us, Becky and have something to drink.” Ryan encouraged, pouring her a glass of iced tea before she could reply.

  “Well, actually I just got in from a long day…”

  “Which is exactly why you need to relax. Drink this and tell us about what you’re carrying.” Ryan pointed to the enchanting lantern.

  “Oh, yes, I bought this at a church bazaar. I just thought it was pretty.” Rebecca said matter-of-factly.

  “It is very pretty!” Concetta exclaimed. “May I touch it?”

  “Of course. Here.” Rebecca handed the lantern to the girl who grabbed and held it reverently in her hands.

  “Very fine craftsmanship, indeed.” Ryan observed.

  “Yes, and I really should put it in my chamber before it gets damaged.” Rebecca strategized in hopes of escaping.

  “I’ll put it in your chamber.” Ryan asserted.

  “And I’ll go with you.” Concetta said brazenly, leading Rebecca to wonder just how quickly their relationship was developing.

  Well, I’m in no position to judge, she reminded herself, watching passively as her brother and Concetta departed. Awkwardly, she became aware of the fact that she and Luke were completely alone, and he had not said a word to her since she walked onto the veranda.

  Out of obligatory politeness, Luke asked, “Are you looking forward to our next production?”

  “Very much so. How could one not look forward to performing Rossini?” Rebecca asked rhetorically as Luke merely nodded, biting off a large chunk of biscotti and chewing loudly.

  “Must you make so much noise?” Rebecca asked, irritated.

  With deliberate gusto, Luke finished the remainder of the crunching cookie, masticating as a cow might. “How’s that for noise?” He asked as crumbs trailed down his chin.

  “If you’re going to eat like a barnyard animal, then I’ll be leaving now.”

  “Well I was raised on a farm.” He replied sardonically. “Not like your Thornbrenner fellow. How is he, by the way?”

  Rebecca dangled between wanting to spill the entire humiliating story to Luke and wanting to pour the iced tea over his head. How dare he treat her so callously?

  On impulse, she said bitingly, “How is he? He’s married, that’s how he is!”

  For an instant, Rebecca perceived a look of smugness on Luke’s face, but the expression quickly returned to indifference. Against her will, tears stung Rebecca’s eyes. She tried to hide her emotions from Luke by turning her back to him.

  “What do you care anyway? You can gloat if you wish. Good bye!” Rebecca sprinted off the veranda and crossed the villa to the front entrance. From there, she fled the property and set off for another long, solitary walk.

  *****

  Luke slammed his glass onto the table as the cork coaster toppled over onto the floor. He had not needed to see Rebecca’s face to know that she was crying when she left, and it made him feel like scum. He stormed out of the room, leaving behind a mess of spilled drinks and scattered crumbs.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  At dawn, Rebecca stood in the gourmet kitchen hoping to alleviate some of her pain by whipping up a sumptuous breakfast. The kitchen was equipped with cookbooks from every culinary tradition in the world. Selecting an Austrian cookbook and flipping through the pages, Rebecca’s appetite was already whetted. She decided to bake a German treat: Stollen, a delicious bread traditionally prepared at Christmas. The bread would be chock full of tasty ingredients such as currants, candied orange peel, and blanched almonds.

  Along with the bread, Rebecca selected recipes for gingerbread cookies and poppy seed strudel. With all those sweets in her belly, she would feel as though she had never left Vienna. Rebecca sighed wistfully, starting to prepare the dough and wondering how just a few short months ago could seem like a simpler time.

  Bitterly, she also wondered how she could have allowed Milton to manipulate her. Before she had even known his identity, when she fancied him a crazed stalker, he had left a sour taste in her mouth.

  Attacking the dough with a rolling pin, Rebecca despaired about how to reclaim some semblance of peace in her life. Mixing the ingredients for the Stollen together with a large wooden spoon, Rebecca said a silent prayer that a miracle would take place.

  As she was wiping her baking powder-covered hands on her apron, Luke strolled into the kitchen, giving her a quizzical look. Hastily, she cleaned her hands off properly with a towel.

  “Did you just come in from a walk?” She asked awkwardly, determined to be civil.

  “No, I was upstairs reading in the library. But I was actually going to ask if you wanted to take a walk with me.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, but I see you have your hands full in the kitchen.” Luke observed the counters, littered with eggshells, granules of sugar, and sticky molasses.

  “Oh, yes. I was doing a little fall baking. Do you like Stollen and gingerbread cookies?” Rebecca asked intimately, unblinking as she peered into his eyes.

  “Yes, very much as a matter of fact. But aren’t those usually made around Christmastime?”

  “Usually. But I was planning on eating them today.” Rebecca said invitingly, unable to control her feelings in Luke’s presence.

  “Are you asking me to join you? After the horrible way I’ve been acting?” Luke asked incredulously.

  “Yes.” Her shyness soared as he regarded her curiously with a long-withheld intensity that she had desperately missed.

  “I don’t know what to say.” He muttered.

  “Say you’ll take my granddaughter for a walk.” Gloria offered from the entrance, startling both Luke and Rebecca.

  “Grandmother! What are you doing?”

  “Just a little harmless eavesdropping, my dear. Now you two go and enjoy this superb October day while I finish the baking.” Gloria approached Rebecca and held out her hand, indicating that she should give over the apron.

  “Mrs. Meadow, that’s really not necessary.” Luke began to protest.

  “Nonsense! In no time at all, you’ll be immersed in rehearsals and without a leisure moment to speak of. Go on now!” She insisted.

  “But Grandmother, I was in the middle of baking…”

  “I can see that and I told you that I would finish what you’ve started. Don’t you trust my abilities? I am the one who taught you to bake after all.”

  Luke and Rebecca exchanged an amused glance. “She’s a hard woman to refuse.” Rebecca said with a sigh. “OK, Grandmother. We’ll go for a walk and leave you to your own devices in the kitchen.” She kissed the woman on both cheeks and added, “Thank you.”

  “You’re very welcome. Now go take that walk!”

  *****

  There was a soupçon of winter in the air when Rebecca and Luke stepped out into the morning. Shivering instantly, Rebecca turned to Luke for comfort, and he eagerly wrapped an arm around her that radiated warmth and safety. The pair walked past flowering trees and al fresco markets. Upon seeing one vendor with pan-roasted chestnuts in paper cones, Luke immediately dug into his pocket for some change and purchased a sample for Rebecca.

  “All that talk of baking made me hungry.” He explained, pouring some chestnuts into her palm.

  She popped one in her mouth, relishing the thick, layered texture. “These are delicious. I’ve never had them fresh off the street before.”

  “Neither have I.” Luke replied, navigating east towards the water.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Where does it look like we’re going?” Luke rejoined.

  �
��It looks as though we’re going to the canal.”

  “That’s correct. We’re taking a gondola ride.” He said firmly, anticipating that she would argue with him.

  “We’ve already been on a gondola ride, Luke! Remember what an awful time we had?” Rebecca asked with a flutter in her stomach, nervous at the prospect of having another experience with Luke end in emotional meltdown.

  To her surprise he chuckled. “It certainly was an awful time, Becky. But things are different now. From this day forward…”

  “What do you mean, Luke?” Rebecca asked, catching her breath as her heart began to pound irregularly.

  “Both of us have made mistakes. Mainly me, I would have to admit.”

  “No, Luke! I’m the fool who was bamboozled by a married man!” Rebecca said shamefully, unable to meet his eyes.

  “You had no idea he was married, and it is not as though you had an affair with him.”

  “Of course not! Just a few horrendous outings!” Rebecca assured him.

  “Exactly. And you never would have gone to dinner with him in the first place had I not run away because of my own feelings of inadequacy. I still don’t have much money, Rebecca, and I may never, but I don’t think that should stop us from having a life together.”

  “Oh, neither do I! That’s what I’ve been telling you all along, though.” She reminded him gently.

  “Yes, you certainly have. I’m afraid I had to learn from others around us what really matters in this life.”

  “Who do you mean?”

  “Your brother Ryan, for one. He and Concetta have been inseparable since they met, and I have no doubt that he will one day propose to her. And he is in exactly the same financial situation as I am.”

  “That’s true.” Rebecca said softly and victoriously.

  “Then there’s Mr. Graysen. He and your grandmother are two of the happiest people I have ever come across. Neither is rich, but they have everything. Imagine that, to have nothing and everything. Without you, I truly have nothing. But with you, I still have nothing of material value, yet I have everything else in the world that is precious. Invaluable.” Luke choked up towards the end of his speech, matching Rebecca’s rising emotions.

 

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