Eternal Melody (22 page)

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 fl
avor,
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 exac
tly 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 the
ir 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.

“Y
ou
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 se
ason 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 sm
iles.  “You had better get back
stage, 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 th
e reviews and been e
nflamed 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 t
o 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 th
e 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 cont
inued 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.