Nocturne (15 page)

“I hope you’re right,” I called over my shoulder as I strode down the hallway.

“Be nice to her this summer, Gregory. I think you stressed her out in class enough this semester.”

I grumbled my response and headed for the exit. Once I reached the mild spring air, I ran my hands through my hair and took a deep breath. There was
no
way I could spend the entire summer around her. Not after what I did to her. To hurt her like that … and possibly confuse her, if what Madeline said held any truth.

My feet matched the speed of my thoughts as I raced back to my office. That Savannah Marshall could possibly be considering a future that did
not
involve a professional career was beyond the grasp of my comprehension. I wouldn’t ever tell anyone this, but after she graduated next year, she could easily land a seat at the BSO, if there was an opening. God, that she was considering something
other
than a professional playing career was … it was all my fault and I’d have to right it. Somehow.

Finally ascending the steps of the building, I sighed as I turned the key in the lock to my door— suddenly extremely invested in making sure that playing professionally was exactly what Savannah Marshall intended to do with her life.

Gregory

I
walked into my office
and sat heavily in my seat. I needed to pack my things, as I wouldn’t be back in here until classes started again in September. But I found myself oddly devoid of motivation. I didn’t care for classroom teaching in the first place. My salary with the symphony was more than enough for my needs, or it was, until I mortgaged my home in order to pay for my cello. My entire check from the conservatory went to those payments.

One thought I could not get out of my mind.
I’m not sure if playing professionally is what she wants to do upon graduation
.

What
else
did she have in mind? Was she considering teaching or nursing or working in a pizza parlor? What possible alternative was there for a musician so incredibly gifted? The thought kept winding through my mind, and the more I thought about it, the more agitated I became. It was essential that she continue her path. The truth was, it would be a tremendous loss to … to the world... if she didn’t continue, practice more, become more … more of what she was. I was losing track of my thoughts, and I found myself pacing back and forth in my tiny office, thinking.

Why hadn’t she come to me?

The question was patently ridiculous. Why
would
she come to me, of all people?

She saw me as a tormentor. Someone who made her foray through music theory a matter of aggravation and obligation. Someone who she disagreed with so much that she was simply unable to control herself in class.

And then there was that odd moment during spring break, when we’d touched hands in the coffee shop. And the kiss.... a kiss we never talked about. Then the semester was over, and I knew she wondered about that kiss as much as I did. She probably hated me for hiding it, for driving that kiss into the darkness, for not discussing it. For leaving it there in the storm instead of bringing it out into the light where it belonged.

I closed my eyes. None of that mattered. Not in the face of the music.

Was she having doubts
because of the way I had treated her?
Three weeks ago she’d been in my office, screaming about her grade. But more specifically, she’d voiced a complaint that I’d been too harsh, that I’d somehow persecuted her because of who her mother was. Our odd, strained relationship might be the catalyst. Impulsively I promised myself that I would pay more attention. Understand her better. Because if I were the one who drove her from what she was so clearly fated to be, I would never forgive myself.

I was so absorbed in my thoughts, I barely noticed when there was a knock at my door, and I found myself face to face with Nathan Connors. I stopped in my tracks.
What was he doing here? Did it have to do with her?
I didn’t speak for a moment, simply staring at him.

Nathan, unusually, didn’t wilt in front of my gaze. His jaw was pressed forward, an insolent expression on his face.

“Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Connors?”

He pulled the door shut and turned to face me again. The boy was shaking. I couldn’t tell if it was fear or anger. Until he spoke, and his nostrils flared.

“I came here to tell you ... to stay away from Savannah.”

“Indeed.” I spoke in the drollest tone I could. “Aren’t you a little late, Mr. Connors? Our class is over, and she’s hardly likely to sign up for anything I’m teaching next year.”

“I don’t care about that,” he said. “Just ... leave her alone.”

“Young man, you’re not making the slightest bit of sense.”

He leaned close, as if he were trying to intimidate me. Both of us were tall, and perhaps because of that he was accustomed to intimidating schoolboys, but with me, it wasn’t working.

“Fitzgerald ... I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing with her. But stop. You’ll break her heart. She doesn’t deserve that. She deserves better than you.”

I snorted. “She despises me, Connors. Even if I was interested ... and I am not ... this would still be a pointless conversation. You are out of line.”

“She’s in love with you, you son of a bitch. And you toy with her like ... like ... she’s just a kid.”

“She
is
a kid, Connors. Get out of my office. And then we’ll forget this conversation ever happened.”

His face took became even more hostile. “What? Are you going to fail me if I don’t? Are you threatening me?”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’ll get exactly the mediocre grade you’ve earned. However, if you don’t leave my office in the next five seconds, I’ll call security and let
them
deal with you. And I suggest you sober up, or start thinking straight for a change.”

For just a second ... just the barest second ... I actually thought he was going to hit me. His face went red, and his fists clenched as an angry crease formed down his forehead. Then he seemed to deflate, as if he’d been punctured. He stepped back and opened the door. Walked through. Then he looked back and said, “If you break her heart, I’ll do whatever it takes to tear you down.”

Then he walked away. I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath until he was out of sight.

My mind was thoroughly muddled. For the first time in my career, I was questioning everything. My motives, my actions, my very emotions. The only thing I didn’t question was the music.

What had she said to Nathan? What sort of discussion had they had? Did Nathan know that … we’d kissed?

I found myself urgently packing my few personal things in the office, then locked up and got out of there. Twenty minutes later I was home. My mind was still everywhere. Thinking about Savannah. Nathan. The strange, confusing year it had been. I needed to get inside; I needed to get to my cello and practice until the sweat rolled off me and my arms trembled. I needed to center myself, and that was the only thing in the world that could do it.

Unfortunately, as I walked up to the front door of my home, I discovered Karin sitting on the front step.

She was hunched over, her arms wrapped across her chest, staring off into space. Her eyes avoided me as I walked up to the house. I slowed my pace as I approached the house, distressed to find her there. I swallowed then drifted to a stop a few feet away from her.

“Karin,” I said.

She looked up at me then looked back down. Idly, her left hand played with a lock of her hair, twisting and untwisting it. “Tell me what’s happening, Gregory.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Abruptly she moved, tensing up. “Don’t be an idiot. You get in a fight with a student that half the school has been talking about, a
shouting match
. Students are spreading rumors that you’re sleeping with her, and at the same time you cancel our dates with text messages. I haven’t heard from you in two weeks.”

I grimaced. It seemed the entire world was intent on shoving Savannah in my face today. “We were arguing over a grade. And the rumors are ridiculous. I’d never touch a student.”

Except I had. She initiated the kiss. But I kissed back.

“Then why haven’t you called me? Why cancel our dates?”

“I’ve been busy, Karin. It’s been finals, in case you missed it.”

She rolled her eyes. And I froze in place. Because her eyes were glassy with tears.

“I thought we were going someplace, Gregory. But I’ve seen the way you look at that girl. I brushed it off the time we went dancing because, well, she’s stunning and everyone was looking at her. But the night of the opera … you have a sorry poker face.”

I looked away, grinding my teeth, working my jaw. Apparently my feelings about Savannah were obvious to everyone on earth. And that could pose a major problem. Above all, it was infuriating to have others examining anything about my life.

“I am perfectly capable of being concerned about a student’s education without being involved with them. I’ve told you this before. The last thing I need is ... distractions.”

She winced. “What are you saying? Am I a distraction?”

Hardly. 

I rubbed my hand against my forehead. “Listen to me, please. I don’t know what you think is going on, or why anyone at the conservatory would wish to involve me in their grade-school rumors, but this ... all of this ... is unnecessary. I am what I am, Karin. I’m a musician first. My music will
always
come first.”

She shook her head. “Get your shit together, Gregory. Until then, I don’t want to hear from you.”

She stood and looked at me, making an effort to contain herself, but I could see she was on the verge of crying. I stood there like an idiot, not having the faintest clue what to say or do. What exactly did she want with me? To disavow a relationship that barely existed? To throw myself at her feet, or chase her down? To give up my commitment to the music? We’d dated off and on for several months now. Did she expect me to make some proclamation of love?

I just stood there. Helpless. She looked at me, then shook her head and walked away. I stayed in place, watching. Thinking. Then I unlocked my front door and walked in.

The Montagnana was in its case in the corner. The case was fireproof, expensive, intended to make the instrument armored, untouchable, pristine. I stared at it, feeling an unfamiliar hostility. This was the center of my life. The center of my being. I’d long since promised myself that I would let nothing interfere with that. Nothing.

But the instrument in its armored case seemed to be mocking me now. For the first time since I was twelve years old, I didn’t
want
to play.

And that’s why I must. Now.

Taking my time, I unlocked the case, unsnapped the latches one by one, and opened it. I stared at the instrument. Four hundred years old, the wood burnished, sometimes it seemed to glow. I unbuttoned my shirt and threw it haphazardly on the couch. It was a little bit chilly in the house, but my t-shirt would be too much once I’d been playing for a while. Then I reached out and took the cello out of its case, respectfully, carefully.

I could see Savannah in my mind. The sway of her shoulders as she raised the flute to her lips. The swinging of her body as she danced, her hips moving in seductive circles. The red on her cheeks as she confronted me in class. I saw Nathan, his nostrils flaring, anger written on his face. I saw Karin, on my front step.
Am I a distraction?
With the force borne along by determination and rage, I swept them out of my mind.

I positioned myself on the practice stool. Flexed my muscles, and slowly rolled my head forward then in a loose circle, loosening the muscles in my neck. I put the bow to the strings. Not moving yet. I could feel the latent vibration in the bow, the music locked inside. I reminded myself that
this
was why I lived. Then I closed my eyes, and I summoned the music.

Savannah

It was the Friday before graduation, and I was finishing packing my things in my dorm. Marcia had fled campus after her last final in order to start a summer internship program with the San Diego ballet. I stuck around so I could watch Nathan graduate on Sunday. We hadn’t spoken much in the last week and a half because he had his recital—which was phenomenal—and auditions for things he still hadn’t told me about. Superstitions and all.

Butterflies filled my stomach and, really, the entire space around me as I waited for Nathan to call me back. I’d called him to ask if we could talk before graduation. I hated the way things were between us. He was my friend and I needed him, no matter where he was going to be in the fall while I finished out my senior year at the conservatory.

“Knock, knock.” I could hear Nathan’s smile as he spoke, pushing my door all the way open.

“Nathan! I thought you were blowing me off, you didn’t call me back!” I dropped the books I was packing and gave him a tight hug.