“Owen, you should take Kathleen’s place next to Pierre. Kathleen, take your place next to Alexandra. Now, please,” said the old nun.
Alexandra tried with her all her might to restrain her delight as Owen took all his things and moved next to Pierre.
“We must all make sacrifices in our lives,” said the nun. “Now let us review our arithmetic. Look at the board.”
When the students were dismissed after that first day of school, they all ran out of the building and to their homes. However, Alexandra was surprised that none of Owen’s friends had stopped to greet him, in fact they didn’t they pay him any mind at all. Perhaps they heard about the latest incident with Robbie, or maybe something had changed over the summer and they’d become weary of him and his ways.
As for Robbie, he glowed with a new sense of self-confidence. He had a good summer, yes, having spent much of it with Alexandra and Emma, and the boxing lessons surely had helped. More than that, they didn’t appear to have made him an egoist. For this alone Alexandra was most grateful as she could barely abide another egoist in her life.
Chapter 17
Business at the little café was doing quite well, and of course Joseph could properly assign much of the credit for this success to his daughter and her music. Some of the real old-timers could even remember when Delphis himself used to entertain the customers. “He’d come right on up to the table and play us a song!” remembered one. “She’s just like her pépé,” laughed another. “She’s petite Delphis!” exclaimed yet another grizzled old man. They’d all stop by to hear the young girl play her fiddle, to remember days past, to meet their old friends and enjoy a tasty cup of tea or coffee. What a happy and lively place the old café had become again!
Due to the success of the business, Joseph decided that the hours should be extended to 8:00 p.m., new staff hired and the menu extended to serve dinner. This was a big risk for him because those customers who came to the café to hear Alexandra playing could never be sure she’d actually be there. Besides, he wanted the café to flourish by virtue of its own merits – excellent service and quality food. Hearing Alexandra play could be considered a bonus.
One September night after the café had closed, Joseph was sitting at his usual table going over the day’s receipts and setting his mind on the following day’s activities. Alexandra came up to the table with her fiddle.
“Papa,” she said, “Look at this!”
Joseph stopped what he was doing.
Alexandra pointed to her violin. “Look at Nellie! Do you see the neck here? It’s got my finger marks on it now!”
Joseph studied the neck of the instrument through his half-moon glasses. He could see the shiny spots on the wood under the strings, and they reached across nearly the entire length of the ebony surface.
“Well, Angel, you’ve certainly made this instrument your own, now haven’t you?”
The girl beamed and her eyes glowed. “Papa, I want to play a song for you. I want to play it only for you.”
Joseph put his pen down, capped the ink jar, and turned his chair towards her.
Alexandra played a lively French folk song and Joseph listened attentively, as he always did. When she finished, he leaned back in his chair and clapped slowly and thoughtfully.
“Well done, Angel! I haven’t heard that song for many years. Your pépé used to play it often in the café and as a matter of fact, it was the last song he played for me. I haven’t heard it since. Where’d you learn it?”
“Well, Papa, you know I get visions sometimes. I was playing for some of the old men and this song was in their memory. I hope it’s not stealing if I got it from there.”
Joseph needn’t have been surprised at this newest revelation, yet the realness of what he’d just heard only reinforced his belief that his daughter’s ability was, in fact, real. Furthermore, it was one thing to get little tidbits from somebody’s life, but to get a whole musical composition and learn something was quite another thing altogether. He felt this would also be the right time to ask about any visions she may have had at the competition.
“Sit down, please,” he said.
Alexandra placed her violin on top of the papers Joseph had spread out on the table. She sat down on the bentwood chair opposite him.
“Papa, I should tell you about the vision I had of Uncle George,” she said, looking straight at her father, her arms folded flat across the table and her fingers interlocked. She seemed to be all business.
“I was waiting for you to say that, Angel! Please go ahead. By the way, you’ve been keeping these visions a secret, like we agreed?”
“Yes, of course I have, Papa. Don’t you trust me?” she asked, puzzled.
“Of course I trust you, Angel! I’d trust you with my life. We also need to remember that there might be people out there who could abuse this gift you have. So far, people think your gift is only about music, and that’s great. There’s nothing wrong with talented people. They come in all shapes, sizes, and colours. But if certain people, for example, the police, knew about your visions and how accurate they were, they’d take you to every grimy jail to play music in order to find out the details of many horrible crimes. Other people would surely abuse your gift, for example, those shady circus proprietors. They’d have you performing in sideshows, collecting the money for themselves, making you work long hours and reducing you to nothing more than a curiosity! It’s bad enough you play your fiddle for some of the characters we have around here. I’ve allowed it because I didn’t see any harm in it. You like playing, they like the music and everything seems good. So as I said, we must keep the visions an absolute secret and guard them as best we can.”
Alexandra sat still, nodding in agreement. She drew in a ragged sigh and began speaking in a quiet voice. “I must tell you about the vision I had at the competition, Papa. In my vision I saw Uncle George, who had gone to the farm to visit Pépé. I could see the kitchen of the old farmhouse and Pépé and Uncle George were quarrelling. Pépé was mad that Uncle George had cheated so many good people in some business dealings and taken their money from them. He even said that Uncle George had started the great fire. Pépé knew this because, Papa, Pépé had visions too, just like I do.”
Joseph felt a new, icy chill trying to lock itself round him. He looked at Alexandra, nodding for her to continue.
“Uncle George got really angry after Pépé told him some of the visions. He also told Uncle George he was going to visit his lawyer and cut him off from his will the next day and that everything was going to pass to you. Then Uncle George started calling Pépé all kinds of horrible names. He said that the visions were lies, that he didn’t know what he was talking about. He called Pépé a poor, uneducated farmer who would rather believe a fantasy than him. He ended by saying that no matter how long he lived, he would always be ashamed to be his son.” She sniffled and lowered her head.
“This is when Pépé had his heart attack, Papa. I saw the whole thing. It was just really so awful. Also, I believe that Uncle George did nothing to help because he wanted Pépé to die,” she said, raising her teary eyes to Joseph.
“Thank you, Angel,” said Joseph, feeling drained by this latest revelation. “I can’t imagine how difficult it was for you to tell me that.”
“Papa, can Uncle George do anything to hurt us?”
“Be sure I would never allow that to happen.” He meant the words as surely as he meant anything in his life.
“I understand, Papa. You promise you won’t let anything happen to us?”
“I promise. You and I – we always keep our promises. Come, it’s late now and you should get some sleep. I’ll close things up here.”
“Papa, why can’t I play the violin without having any visions? I can’t even play it in my room with the door closed! I’m sure the music carries down the stairs because I get visions of different people in the café. I can even tell who’s here without coming down! I wonder if it happened like that with Pépé?”
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br /> Joseph rubbed his face and eyes. He sighed. “I remember your pépé seldom came to the café during the last months of his life. He liked to stay home and play his violin. ‘I have peace and quiet here,’ he’d say. ‘No distractions on the farm.’ I always thought it was because he missed your mémé. I tried getting him to come out, even to play his violin with you here, but he seldom did. It would make sense that if no people were around, he couldn’t possibly get any visions.”
“Do you think I should stop playing the violin when people are around, Papa?”
“What?” said Joseph. “God has given you a special gift, I mean, a special talent, Angel. Besides, everybody loves your music! On the one hand it would be a shame to stop, but on the other hand you need to have a clear mind and enjoy your music. Perhaps you could change instruments – I don’t mean getting another violin – but perhaps you could take up the piano, harp, flute or something else. You could even try singing. Maybe the visions will stop.”
“No. I want to be a concert violinist, Papa. If I can’t play the violin, I don’t want to play anything at all.”
“You’re so stubborn! All right. I just pray that God gives you the strength and courage to deal with any more visions. Just remember you can change instruments any time you want,” said Joseph.
“Papa?” she said, getting up from her chair.
“Yes, Angel?”
“Thank you for making me feel better. I’m sure everything will be all right. I do love the violin and could never imagine myself playing anything else. I could never love another instrument as much.” She walked around to his side of the table, bent down and kissed his cheek. “Good night, my wise, dear, Papa.”
Joseph smiled. “Good night to you, too, Angel.”
Chapter 18
When Alexandra and Robbie arrived at school, the other pupils had just entered the building. Sister Rose stood at the door of the classroom, as was her practice, and visually inspected each pupil as they filed orderly inside as if determining whether or not they were worthy to enter her classroom. Everyone was always fearful of the dreaded arm which could go up at any moment, blocking their entrance. If they could make it past that arm, they stood a good chance of making it through the rest of the day.
As she waited her turn to enter the classroom, Alexandra noticed that the nun had an unusually pleasant look on her face. She wondered if the old woman’s face would crack if she tried broadening her mouth into a full smile.
When it came time for Alexandra to enter the classroom, the arm shot up across the doorway. “Not you!” said the nun. “You wait out here in the corridor.”
Alexandra stood puzzled. She hadn’t been late for school, all her homework was done, and all her things were in order. There could be no possible reason on God’s good earth why the nun would single her out for any disciplinary action. After a few moments, the nun returned and closed the classroom door, thus shutting herself and Alexandra in the empty corridor.
“Do you know what I want to talk to you about?” said the nun.
Alexandra then realized that she hadn’t done her hair in a braid that morning. She remembered the old nun hated loose-hanging hair because it appeared unkempt, much like how a beggar would keep it. “I can’t be sure, Sister Rose,” she said, palms beginning to sweat.
“Well! You know it’s not polite to keep secrets, and that’s exactly what you’ve been doing ever since school started, haven’t you?” said the nun in a low voice, her stark eyes clear and cutting.
At that moment Alexandra realized that the nun must somehow know about the visions. After all, nuns are connected to God on a higher level and probably know things most people don’t. Perhaps even this nun got visions of her own, too.
“I’m so sorry, Sister! My papa told me to keep this a secret and not tell anyone.”
“Well, your father is certainly right most of the time. He’s a very modest man and is teaching you the virtues of modesty, too. This is what Christ teaches us. However, winning the Premier’s Competition in the very sight of the premier of Ontario himself is certainly something to be proud of. I am amazed, and perhaps even a bit insulted, that I had to find this out secondhand and not from you directly.”
Alexandra felt all her anxiety instantly being released. “Sister Rose, yes, that’s true. I’m so very sorry for not having told you. I can only imagine how upset you must’ve been upon hearing the news and how disappointed you were in me for not telling you. I’m sure people tell you all the time about their great accomplishments. Perhaps I didn’t think it anything special to brag about. Besides, there were so many talented musicians there at the competition and frankly speaking I was quite humbled and surprised to have been chosen as the winner amongst them.”
The old nun listened with unusual patience. “God gives gifts to different people for different reasons. I do hope you will use your gift well and not become self-absorbed in it.”
“I would never do that, Sister! I would just like to improve my playing ability and perhaps in the distant future I might even become part of an ensemble or maybe even a quartet or, Good Lord willing, an orchestra,” she said, not wanting to reveal too much to the nun.
“Very well, then, I can see how important your music is to you. I hope you will not let it interfere with your studies. Furthermore, it would please me if you could play a song for the class. I have yet to hear you play your violin. Perhaps a duet with Owen would be nice.”
Alexandra was always eager to play her violin, but dreaded getting any more visions. Besides, she believed that playing for the class would put her in an awkward social position – especially with Owen. However, she felt the onus to play a duet would rest with him, and was sure he would refuse.
“Yes, of course. I’d be pleased to play for you.”
“Good then. It’s settled. You’ll bring your violin tomorrow and play a song for us,” said the nun, opening the door of the classroom and gesturing with a welcoming arm for the girl to enter. “Oh yes, Alexandra, one more thing,” she added. “Next time, please do something with your hair.”
Alexandra smiled and entered the classroom.
* * *
On the way home that day, Alexandra decided on a whim to drop in to the professor’s house. She hadn’t seen him since they returned from the Premier’s Competition, and now that had school started, she wanted to arrange a new schedule for her practice sessions.
When she arrived at his home, she walked down the sidewalk, past the gardener who was tending the rose bushes, and knocked at the side door, as usual.
Cora answered.
“Is the Maestro home?” Alexandra asked.
“Is he expecting you today?”
“No, but I wanted to see him in order to revise our playing schedule.”
The gardener noticed the two talking and turned towards them. “Alexandra! What are you doing here?”
Alexandra looked at the gardener and realized it was the Maestro. He was wearing coveralls, gardening gloves, and a straw hat. He certainly didn’t look at all like a professor of music or master concert violinist. “Maestro?” she said. “I am so sorry for intruding, but I was hoping we could review our practice schedule. I didn’t know you don’t have any gardeners working for you!”
“Yes, actually I do,” he said. “They do most of the heavy work, but I take care of the roses myself. I really enjoy this part of gardening, and I especially enjoy roses. I like nurturing them and I’ve got many varieties here, including some very rare ones. It’s my dream that someday this whole town, and probably future city, will be covered with roses from one end to the other. Come, let me show you some of my best.”
The great Maestro, in his gardening coveralls, strolled the grounds with Alexandra. He explained all the different types and cultivars in his garden. The roses were made up of many different colours, from pure white to deep crimson reds. They were also in many different sizes, with some growing on long stems while others grew in great thorny bushes. The air was f
illed with the scent of these blooms, and Alexandra bent down to savour some of them, being careful not to prick her fingers.
The professor clipped some of the more exquisite ones, arranging them in a bouquet which he presented to her.
“Oh thank you Maestro! I love flowers and roses are the best of all!”
“You’re welcome, my dear. Consider it a belated gift after a fine performance.” Alexandra felt her face warming at the Maestro’s words. “I brought some of these cultivars back from Europe,” said the professor. “These ones are truly prized. They’ll continue blooming right up until the first frost.”
“I think we should put them in water, Maestro. Do you have a vase?”
“Yes, let’s step inside. I’ve done enough for today and I’ll ask Cora to put these in a vase so that you can take them home. Now, you wanted to revise your playing schedule?”
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