Eternal Melody Page 3

  “Young man, you are an extraordinary violinist. There is no doubt in my mind that you would make a grand addition to our orchestra.” Rebecca detected the man’s American accent and surmised this to be the conductor, Christopher Graysen, whom Luke had mentioned.

  Well into his sixties, the man wore a crisp tweed suit topped off with an oversize bowtie in a shade of powder blue that made his periwinkle eyes twinkle in the morning light. He had a snowy beard that gave him the air of both wisdom and eccentricity, and Rebecca immediately decided that she liked him. In a certain way, his profile was reminiscent of her grandfather, Sanford Meadow, who had passed on a decade prior.

  She hovered in the background, listening as he continued to praise a beaming Ryan. “We already have a first violinist, whom you shall meet very shortly. His name is Luke Springwell, and he’s also from the United States.”

  Rebecca puckered her lips sourly at the mention of Luke, the rude but compelling man from whom she had just fled.

  “Now, you said you had a sister who would also like to audition, yes? What instrument does she play?”

  “She doesn’t play an instrument, Mr. Graysen. She’s a marvelous singer in the mezzo soprano classification.”

  Rebecca blushed and smiled to herself at Ryan’s description of her singing.

  Christopher Graysen looked thoughtful for a moment and then frowned, shaking his head slowly. “I’m afraid that won’t do. We already have a tremendous number of young ladies who have auditioned for singing roles. I’ve hired enough for all the operas we’ll be performing this season. Even the bit parts have been filled. Surely you are aware that this is the last day for auditions and, consequently, very few spaces remain in any section of the orchestra. All we can use is you on violin and perhaps another flutist. Does she play the harp at all?”

  The old man looked hopefully at Ryan, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of disappointing him. When he finally took notice of Rebecca, standing in the corner trembling to control her brewing tears, Christopher looked positively stricken. “I presume this is your sister?” He asked quietly, as Ryan turned to take in the pitiful sight of Rebecca on the verge of wracking sobs.

  Determined to maintain her dignity, Rebecca gulped down the sob that was forming in her throat and squinted to prevent her tears from falling. She would not break down like a blubbering fool in front of a man she had just met.

  “Yes, I am Ryan’s sister. My name is Rebecca Meadow.” She shook the man’s hand with as much professionalism and poise as she could muster and he smiled back warmly at her.

  “Very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Meadow. I suppose you overheard our conversation?” Christopher Graysen asked, bowing his head with an empathy that touched Rebecca.

  “Yes, indeed I did. Congratulations, Ryan.” She turned a quick but sincere smile on her brother and then continued, “I don’t play the harp or any other instrument as it happens. But I would be ever so grateful if you would allow me to perform a vocal audition. The roles may all be taken now, but you never know when you might need an understudy.”

  She spoke with self-confidence, any threat of a teary outburst completely averted by her flashbulb idea of being an understudy. She would not let anything or anyone obstruct her possibilities for a career in singing. She would remain tenacious. Rebecca’s posture naturally uplifted to an elegant stance as she mentally coached herself not to give up.

  “I must say that I admire your persistence, Miss Meadow. It certainly could do no harm for you to audition, though I feel obliged to reiterate that the roles are all filled. I cannot promise you anything. Furthermore, if you did assume the role of understudy, you must be aware that there would be no salary unless you actually performed.” Rebecca nodded in understanding, appreciative of Mr. Graysen’s compassionate candor. “We have a pianist who can accompany you---Luke Springwell,” He turned towards Ryan, “The first violinist I mentioned to you. He’s multi-talented on the instruments, a sort of musical Renaissance Man.” Mr. Graysen looked at Rebecca again who had turned quite white-faced in the span of a moment. “Shall I fetch him for you?”

  Panicked, Rebecca exclaimed, “No! Please don’t!” The two men looked at her, startled and perplexed. She softened her voice and explained, “I prefer to sing a cappella so you will hear my voice exactly as it is. I would not want the piano to distort or overshadow my singing.”

  Inwardly, she squirmed, knowing this was an outright lie and that the accompaniment of a skilled pianist such as Luke would only enhance her voice. But her exchange with him had left her oddly edgy and apprehensive about singing in his presence.

  “Very well, Miss Meadow. It is as you wish. Anytime you’re ready, please proceed.” Mr. Graysen took a step back and politely waited for Rebecca to commence.

  “Thank you, Mr. Graysen. I would like to sing for you an aria from Mozart’s Don Giovanni.”

  Rebecca took a deep inhalation, gathering as much oxygen into her lungs as possible and then expelling the breath slowly to calm her stage fright. From the first note, crooned in a sweet cadence that breathed clarity and vitality into the Mozart classic, she knew that Mr. Graysen was captivated. He closed his eyes, absorbing the soaring crescendos and dramatic decrescendos.

  When she had finished, Mr. Graysen opened his eyes and raved, “That was celestial. There is no other way to describe it. Heavenly. Bravo, young lady. I certainly do wish you had auditioned earlier in the season. Your voice is ripe to portray any of opera’s tragic or comedic heroines. And how that voice emanates from a young lady of your slight stature, I’ll never know.” Mr. Graysen clapped his hands vigorously as Rebecca breathed a colossal sigh of relief and bowed her head in modesty.

  “Mr. Graysen, I am not worthy of your compliments, but it is an honor to hear you speak that way. Thank you.” Her sapphire eyes radiated pleasure as she looked gratefully into his kind, blue-gray orbs. Ryan regarded Rebecca with fraternal pride and applauded enthusiastically along with the conductor.

  “Would you consider serving as understudy? It would require attending rehearsals regularly. The opera we currently have on the program is Mozart’s The Magic Flute. We hope to take it eventually to London and do the tour of the continent. For now, though, we are based in Vienna, and I do not foresee an immediate relocation.” Mr. Graysen’s offer delighted Rebecca beyond words, as she thought with a heartbreaking twinge of sentimentality how The Magic Flute had been one of the first operas her grandmother had taught her.

  “I would be most honored to serve as an understudy. Thank you, Mr. Graysen! Thank you!” For propriety’s sake, she resisted the urge to wrap her arms around the dear man and give him an affectionate squeeze. Instead, she curtsied and then shook his hand.

  *****

  Sensing that the impromptu audition was about to conclude, Luke Springwell retreated from his spot in the doorway, where he had secretly enjoyed a prime vantage point beholding the mesmerizing Rebecca Meadow.

  Chapter Three

  Luke strode out of the rehearsal hall, half-hoping that Rebecca had somehow known that he heard her entire audition. He fiercely wanted Rebecca to take notice of him after she had so carelessly swept out of the room. Even though she had insulted him with her abrupt exit, Luke could not deny the raw sweetness that flowed from Rebecca’s vocal chords.

  Music had been a staple of Luke’s existence since he was able to speak, but never had he heard a voice as angelic as Rebecca’s. For her to shine so brightly during the challenge of an a cappella audition was remarkable.

  Feeling his temperature rise in the sultry midsummer air, Luke removed his jacket and flung it over his arm, loosening his cravat as well. He continued to stroll aimlessly around the heart of Vienna, trying to no avail to get the sound of Rebecca’s voice and the image of her cobalt eyes and flame hair out of his restless mind.

  He resisted the temptation to enter a tavern across the street, though it would have been comforting to get a bit of brandy into his bloodstream. Ever since he had arri
ved in Vienna in October of 1899, he had passed his days and nights in increasingly unbearable solitude…except for a brief and painful liaison with a woman who had deceived him. Luke thought momentarily of the fiasco and then pushed it to the back of his mind where the memory could not hurt him anymore.

  Leaving Wisconsin had not been easy for the twenty-seven year old. From boyhood, Luke had dreamed of competing as a marathon runner in the Olympics, representing his country and earning the Gold Medal. He had trained tirelessly to be able to compete. In 1896, Luke had received word from his coach that he had earned a spot in the first modern international Olympic Games in Athens, Greece.

  The news had garnered pride from his father, who had previously told him to become a physician or lawyer. For the first time in his life, Luke had felt like a success in his father’s critical eyes. As for his three younger brothers, they envied him for his accomplishment. Luke believed that his mother, who died giving birth to her youngest son, had been smiling down on him from Heaven. Best of all, Luke would no longer have to slave away on the farm where he worked as a hired hand, charged with such uninspiring tasks as stacking hay, milking cows, and replenishing troughs. It was to be a new life for him and for his whole family if he earned a medal for the United States. It had all seemed so perfect. Too perfect, as it turned out.

  A few weeks before Luke was to make the journey to Athens, his Olympic dreams had been permanently shattered. One morning, during an argument with his youngest brother, Jonathan, things had become violent. To this day, Luke could not remember what had triggered the fateful argument. The brothers had wrestled by the stairwell of their home until Jonathan snapped and pushed Luke down the stairs. Luke landed at the bottom of the stairwell, his right leg broken. There was no way that he would recover in time for the Olympics.

  With a heavy heart, Luke had surrendered his dreams of being a world-class athlete and turned instead to music. Though he had excelled at music all his life, it had never crossed his mind to make it a career. But with his leg irrevocably injured, Luke could glean no other path for himself. Even working on the farm was out of the question, as the job involved sixteen hours per day of physical labor. When Luke arrived in Vienna, he had been physically and mentally a broken man.

  Now, as he reflected on his brief meeting with Rebecca, the vision of her was like a sunbeam in a sky of black storm clouds. A woman like her could piece together the scattered puzzle into something whole. If he had anything to say about it, she would not remain an understudy for very long. She deserved to be on the forefront, and he would help her get there any way he could. And if she were to give him another tongue-lashing like the one at the rehearsal hall? Well, if her personality was that hot, then he could only fight fire with fire.

  *****

  “I know you’re disappointed, sis, and I’m sorry. But at least Mr. Graysen has made you an understudy. Think of it as a stepping stone to something greater.” Ryan tried to reassure his sister as they walked together out of the rehearsal hall.

  “Yes, I am disappointed. But I don’t have time to wallow in my crushed dreams.” She sighed, knowing she sounded melodramatic. Stiffening her posture, she asserted gravely, “There are practical matters to consider.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as, how am I to support myself?! I’m here in Vienna with no occupation. You heard the conductor. The understudy position is unpaid! How am I to live?” She tried unsuccessfully to control the panic mounting within her.

  “Becky, I’ll be earning fair wages as a violinist. I’ll help you for as long as necessary.” Ryan said sincerely.

  “That’s very generous of you, Ryan, but you know as well as I do that you’ll be earning a pittance. Besides, you are at a prime age for marrying. If you decide to take a wife, she surely won’t want you to be burdened with supporting your spinster of a sister!”

  “You’re not a spinster. And I am sure that any woman I marry will adore you.” Ryan spoke diplomatically, and then attempted to paint a smile onto her face. “My future wife will also adore Grandmother. As for Gregory and Ethel, I can’t make any promises.” He grinned and she grinned back in spite of herself.

  “There are other things to take into consideration. If you should marry, you’ll have not just a wife but a whole offspring to care for. It simply won’t work for you to support me. I won’t allow it---even if you do remain a rowdy bachelor.” She smiled teasingly, knowing that nothing could be further from the truth.

  If Ryan even knew the meaning of the word “carouse” he had certainly never incorporated the concept into his own life. Rebecca viewed her brother as a rare gentleman who deserved the most gracious of ladies for a wife.

  “As soon as we get settled into our rooms, I’ll go about the business of finding a job.” Rebecca said decisively as they headed eastward to collect their belongings and check out of the lodge where they had spent the previous night.

  Before they left the audition, Mr. Graysen had recommended a complex of apartments above a cheerful storefront in central Vienna, just blocks from the rehearsal hall. He claimed that many of the musicians lodged there for the affordable rent and short-term leases that allowed for flexibility.

  Ryan and Rebecca shuffled in and out of the lodge quickly, excited to move into their new abode. After a short walk across town, they arrived at the five-story building Christopher Graysen had recommended. The apartments rested on a trio of stores including a delicatessen, bakery, and blacksmith. Rebecca smiled to herself, thinking how homey the aromas would be coming from a Viennese bakery. The image of herself awakening in the morning to the delicious smell of oven-fresh bread was enough to make her forget her financial quandary for the time being. The siblings walked up one flight of stairs to the rental office, where a tidy blond secretary sat at a desk typing.

  She looked up from her typewriter to greet the Meadows. “Guten Nachmittag. Wie geht es Ihnen?”

  Rebecca understood that the secretary had just bid them a good afternoon and asked them how they were, but she let Ryan do all the talking. In German, he explained to the secretary, Beatrice, that Christopher Graysen had referred them to the building. Beatrice immediately recognized the name and dug into her desk drawer for a lease, written in German, and handed it to Ryan.

  Ryan looked the document over briefly and then turned to Rebecca. “The lease looks legitimate, but I don’t think you’ll be thrilled with the accommodations. It says here that tenants each have a furnished room and that women reside on the fifth floor and share a washroom. Men are on the fourth floor and also must share a washroom. The lease is renewable every thirty days. What do you think?”

  Rebecca was mortified. But she reminded herself harshly that she was not a princess, and she was not even employed. These modest accommodations would have to do just fine.

  “Go ahead and sign it, Ryan. We have little choice. At least we’ll be able to leave in thirty days if conditions are positively unbearable.”

  He nodded his agreement and accepted the pen that Beatrice offered him. With a swift movement of his hand, he affixed his signature and handed the paper back to Beatrice, who stamped it with an official inkblot. She unlocked a safe next to her desk and retrieved two large brass keys that would open Ryan and Rebecca’s respective rooms. As they were turning to leave, Beatrice muttered something quickly in German that Rebecca could not understand.

  Ryan turned to her and translated, “Beatrice says that the rooms are available for immediate occupancy. We may move in right now.”

  Relieved by this news, Rebecca climbed the steep stairwell and bid Ryan goodbye when they reached the fourth floor. He unlocked the door to his room and entered, as Rebecca stood outside the door, suddenly overcome by a feeling of alienation.

  She gazed upstairs to the fifth level where her private room awaited. When she finally went inside that room, any trace of fantasy would have to be banished from her system. Whatever the room was, whether dingy or passable, she would have to inhabit it. It struck her a
s odd how she had felt such liberation leaving Michigan, and now on only her second day in Vienna, her choices were steadily shrinking. Resolving to drop off her luggage in the room and immediately go out in search of employment, she began to ascend the stairs.

  As she did so, a familiar male voice called behind her, “Miss Meadow, I did not expect to see you again so soon.”

  Rebecca whirled around, nearly losing her balance and toppling over the stairwell as she stared straight into the smiling brown eyes of Luke Springwell.

  Chapter Four

  Grabbing onto the banister and squeezing it until her knuckles were white, Rebecca looked at Luke in amazement. What in the world was he doing there? Had he stalked her from the rehearsal hall like some sort of lunatic? She eyed him suspiciously, clutching her satchel closer to her body.

  Before she had a chance to interrogate him, he spoke again, observing her off-kilter stance. “You must be careful on these staircases. They’re dreadfully narrow and equally steep. I almost landed flat on my face when I first moved in here.”

  Moved in! Rebecca nearly gasped. He couldn’t mean that he lived there!

  In a breathless whisper she asked, “Are you saying that you live here?”

  Luke grinned and retorted, “Yes, is that quite all right with you?”

  Rebecca realized that her tone must have sounded accusing, as though he had no right to live there. Mr. Graysen had said that many of the orchestra members lived in these apartments, but Rebecca had not thought that Luke could be one of them. Somehow, she envisioned him living somewhere rustic and isolated, in a log cabin buried in the foothills of the Alps. Or near a lake where he could tap away on the piano all day long while the music echoed over softly rippling waters. Regaining her composure, Rebecca began to walk down the stairs so that she was standing directly in front of him.