“I see where Alexandra gets her good looks,” said the professor. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
“Likewise, Maestro. Please call me Helen,” she said. “Sir Charles spoke very highly of you.”
“This is Marcie,” interrupted Joseph. “She’s the head waitress in the café.”
“Alex, and Katie, would you like to come play a song with us?” asked Alfred.
“May I, Mama?” asked Katie.
“Yes, of course you may, Sunshine,” replied Helen. We’ll all sit together and watch.”
The group of musicians returned to the marquee to find many people still there. “Aydy! Play us a song! Please!” they said.
Alexandra Delmott returned to her place under the marquee with her sister and Alfred. The crowd burst into applause upon her return. Alexandra beamed.
“Let’s reprise ‘Blue Danube,’” she said. “Do you know it, Katie?”
“Yes,” she said, “I can play it, and Mama hums it to me all the time.”
The two sisters raised their violins up, placing them in the crooks of their necks. They smiled at each other, and began playing the first, sweet introductory notes of the famous waltz. Helen, Joseph, and their company of friends watched from rows of seating across the front.
The beautiful melody spread through the park as before, but now something was very different. Alexandra’s father stood up and reached his hand to Helen. She took his hand and rose to her feet. Joseph placed his arm around her waist and they began dancing, sweeping round in elegant, graceful circles, their eyes fixed on each other.
Alexandra smiled as she played, the sweet sound of the music wrapping itself around her in a completely new and wonderful way. She saw no vision this time, her reality being right before her eyes. At that moment, she remembered the secret her pépé had told her in that vision long ago.
“Stay true to your course, my little protégé, and your deepest dreams will become your happiest memories.”
_______________________________________________
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Author’s notes
Aydy’s Fiddle is a story of love, hope, and family. It is a combination of many stories from many people. It was inspired, in part, by listening for hours, often deep into the night, of family members speaking about their life-experiences. It would have been a pity if their stories vanished forever when the big broom of time sweeps everything away.
The story was also inspired by a violin owned by my great-grandfather, Delphis Hebert. Though his violin is no longer playable, it is kept in safe storage. I look at it from time to time, wondering what fascinating stories it could tell if it could talk – or sing.
Some historical events, such as the Premier’s Competition and the Music Festival in Ottawa are purely fictitious. Though there’s no doubt that music festivals took place during the 19th century, they did not always occur regularly and most were loosely organized – as many still are today. It is also my hope the reader may forgive me for shortening some of the geographical distances – especially around the Windsor and Sandwich area (which were greater than depicted).
Finally, I recognize that in order to become proficient at a musical instrument, or in any worthy endeavour, takes years of study and practice – all of it fuelled by a determination to succeed. Those who do, have my deepest respect.
Edward Curnutte
Acknowledgements
I wish to express my grateful appreciation to the following people, without whose assistance, technical or otherwise, Aydy’s Fiddle would not have been possible. To Bogdana Boyko for editing services and manuscript suggestions, Joyce Cherwak for historical information and contacts, Nora Curnutte, Jacki Curnutte-Hindman for her beta and proof-reading, Susan Curnutte-Ball, Elehna Duda, Barb Feldman for editing services, Alexandra Klymenko, Kathy Moore for her cover photo of Olivia Skinner, Fern McKenna Walsh, Marcene Renes and Dennis Kasarda for manuscript suggestions, Katerina Schedel, Vonda Wood for proof-reading, editing and manuscript suggestions, and Molly Stone Zucknick for her beta-reader review – which was the most comprehensive and complete I have ever seen.
With the exception of Hiram Walker and Oliver Mowat, the characters portrayed in this work are fictional. No other characters are meant to depict any person, living or dead, and any such resemblance is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction.
Aydy's Fiddle - The Memory Thief Page 29