Eternal Melody (3 page)

Aboard the new boat, Rebecca was disappointed to find that her cabin was no larger than a closet, and a rather cramped one at that.  There was no bathtub for her to luxuriate in, only a short bed that she imagined would cause Ryan’s
long legs to dangle hilariously
ove
r the edge
.  She set her belongings upon a wooden chest of questionable cleanliness and flopped onto the bed, disgusted by the mustiness of the sheets and blanket
, but too travel-weary to obsess over it
.

Her seasickness greatly subsided during this last leg of the odyssey, despite the fact that this smaller boat was even more volatile than the sturdy liner that had navigated from New York.

She passed her time reading the only book she had brought from home, a biography of the brilliant composer Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.  Rebecca marveled that before the sun
w
ould set again, she would be traversing the same land that Mozart had
inhabited
.  As soon as she became acclimated to Vienna, Rebecca vowed to visit Salzburg, the celebrated hometown of Mozart.

As dusk painted the sky a mystic shade of lavender
, the boat floated over the serene Rhine River and docked.
  Rebecca snapped her book shut and sprang to her feet, excited to the point of breathlessness.
  She and Ryan quickly disembarked and followed
confusing
directions to the rail station
, struggling to navigate as twilight deepened
.  Images whizzed around her as she hurried with Ryan to make the next departing train.  Rebecca did not want to know what a disheveled clown she must look
like
after the countless days spent in transit.  The only upside was that she had carefully conserved her voice and would be ready to sing
at her
audition.

The train ride was an exhausting blur for both Ryan and Rebecca.  When the whistle finally sounded, indicating their arrival in Vienna, Rebecca bolted from her seat, instantly revived
knowing
that her voyage was complete.  As the siblings ran out of the station, a summer shower w
as tapering off and left
in its midst a rainbo
w like a
vaporous
crescent in the
sky.

Rebecca looked wondrously around her, trying to grasp the reality that she was really in Austria-Hungary.  She had read so many volumes about the
countries that were
combined
into both
empire and kingdom. 
Rebecca wondered how close
she was
to the royal residence of Franz Joseph, yet another
limb
on the dynastic Hapsburg tree and simultaneously
E
mperor of Austria and
K
ing of Hungary.  It boggled her mind to ponder how one man could wield so much power. 
T
extbooks had taught her political facts, but nothing could have prepared her for the beauty
inherent to every square mile
of the
land
.

As Rebecca gazed longingly at the Alps
shimmering
from afar, Ryan suddenly spoke. 
“Our first order of business is to find temporary lodging.  After that, we can fetch a map and go to the hall where
auditions are being held.” Ryan’s tone was laced with the authority of an
older brother.

“Must we go immediately to the
concert hal
l?  I feel so depleted from this
voyage.” Rebec
ca complained.

“Becky, do you know what day it is, or have you not been keeping track on your calendar?” Rebecca shook her head in cluelessness.  “Today is the thirtieth of July. 
According to the newspaper, tomorrow
is the last day for auditions. “

“Well, then we can go tomorrow.  What is your haste, Ryan?” Rebecca argued as her head swelled with the need for sleep in a suitable bed that did not flatten like a flapjack
. 
It was then that she noticed Ryan had bluish circles under his eyes, doubtlessly drawn from an equal lack of sleep.

“I suppose you’re right.  But we must awaken at dawn and proceed immediately to the hall.  Is that agreed?”
He yielded
,
and
Rebecca nodded wearily as they plodded on in search of lodging for the night.

*****

The next morning, Ryan and Rebecca stood anxiously outside the rehearsal hall.  For what seemed like the thousandth time, Ryan checked the address to see if it matched the one from the newspaper announcement.

“It says
forty-nine
Kirschs
trasse
, but I cannot believe this is the place.” Ryan shook his head in confusion.

“Stop being neurotic, Ryan.  Of course this is the place!” Rebecca scolded, eager to go inside and allay her nerves by finally auditioning.

The previous night, Rebecca had scarcely gotten any sleep, so preoccupied was she with visions of faltering or singing off-key during this long-awaited audition.  Finally in Vienna, Rebecca was faced with the fact that it was not some fairy land for a Michigan girl to
magically
float into, but a real geographic place that beheld the power to crush her dreams.  What if she performed miserably and did not get a part? 
Her impetuous nature had not allowed her to devise an alternative plan, and she felt the pressure of her entire future riding on this single audition halfway across the world.

Rudely, Ryan clapped his hands in her face as she scowled at him.  “Snap out of it, Becky.  I’m not being neurotic.  I just find it hard to believe that this decrepit building is the home of an international orchestra.”

Rebecca stood back for a moment and looked at the dilapidated Gothic structure.  The building, with its cracked foundation and decaying exterior, looked to be very neglected.  Ryan had a point that this was not what one would expect of a newly assembled orchestra that aimed to impress Europe and become renowned.  Again, Vienna was not a fairy land, Rebecca mused silently.

Ryan resumed
with his characteristic pragmatism, “Perhaps I’m being rash
in my judgment.  I mean, this is just the rehearsal hall, not the place where we would be performing.
  A rehearsal hall is not intended to be a castle.
”

Reassured by this line of reasoning, Rebecca agreed emphatically.  “That’s precisely correct, Ryan.  Now let’s please go inside and see about auditioning.  Please.” She gave him a look that betrayed her mounting nervousness
,
and he obligingly opened the door to the hall
, tightening his sweaty-palmed grip on his violin case
.

The interior of the building was dismal, with endless corridors covered with faded maroon carpets from wall to wall.  Several Baroque paintings adorned the otherwise barren walls and, in the distance, the muffled sounds of a clarinetist could be discerned.  Rebecca looked around for
a
signpost giving directions to the audition room, but there was none.

“Where do you think we go to audition?” Rebecca queried
.

“I haven’t the faintest idea.  If I hadn’t read about this audition in the
newspaper
, I’d think that this were all a hoax from the looks of this place. 
The interior is more
dreadful
than
the exterior.” Ryan looked around in futility to figure out where to go next.  “Becky, you wait for me right here.  I’m going to scope around and see if I can find the conductor or any breathing body who can tell us what’s going on.”

Rebecca looked reluctantly at Ryan, not wanting to be left alone in the dreary hallway.  If she were approached by someone, she would not know how to respond, as
her spoken German was very limited. 
Adept at memorizing lyrics phonetically, she could sing for hours in the language,
but it was Ryan who had a mastery over the
intricacies
of conversing.

“Must you go on your own?  Let me come with you.” She urged, yanking on his sleeve.

“Becky, don’t worry, I’ll just be gone a few minutes.  Wait here---and don’t get yourself into any mischief.” He turned a bend in the hall and disappeared.

Rebecca stood immobilized
, beginning to wonder if
this trip to Vienna had been a
foolish
enterprise.  As the dimness cast gloomy shadows over her surroundings, Rebecca remembered
the open sea, the saltiness
and
crispness of the air, the plentiful July sun,
and
the freedom from the
monotonous
life she had left behind.
  As she reminisced, she became aware of a remote-sounding
piano
melody drifting towards her.  The music
almost
seemed to be pursuing her. 
Inexorably, she was drawn to the ethereal music.

Following the melodious sounds, Rebecca found herself in the center of an empty ballroom across from a lone piano player with his back to her. 
The
distinctive
notes of Beethoven’s “
Für Elise
” echoed from a
black
baby grand piano. 
The
player’s
form appeared sturdy and his posture self-assured within a finely cut tan suit.  From the thickness of his rich russet hair, he
was likely
very young, yet the sounds emanating from the piano were mature and
could only be attributed to a practiced professional or genius prodigy.  Rebecca respected the integrity of the piece, so she quietly
crept
closer, now admiring his
long
fingers as they expertly manipulated the keys.  His hands were large and covered with the same dark hair on his head; the fingers looked thick and capable, almost too masculine to play the piano so effortlessly.

Moments later, the man concluded the piece and a heavy silence
descended
over the room.  Rebecca held her breath with the impression that the piano player was trying to discern if he were alone in the ballroom.  Before she could introduce herself, he whirled around on the bench and looked her square in the eyes with a startled and intrigued expression.  His face definitely belonged to a young man, and Rebecca estimated that he could not be more than thirty.  His deep-set eyes were a warm, enveloping shade of brown and his lips molded full and sensua
l
.  Rebecca tried to resist the compulsion to stare, but she was completely unnerved that the flawlessly executed Beethoven melody had come from such a young, broodingly handsome man.

He seemed to be just as fascinated as she was, as he raked his eyes over her long cascade of strawberry blond hair, half undone and trailing
wildly
down her waist. 
To her surprise, he suddenly looked away and turned again to face the keyboard where he flipped a page in the composition book. 
Devastated that she was being ignored,
Rebecca stepped forward until she was standing next to him, peering into his mysterious eyes.

“I take requests.
Is there anything you would like to hear?”

His words set her instantly at ease, not
only
because he clearly had no intention of snubbing her, but
also
because the words were spoken in perfectl
y enunciated American English.

When she smiled but said nothing, he recovered, “Ah,
Fraülein, sprechen Sie Deutsch
?”

“No, I speak English!” was her immediate reply.  He looked up at her with fresh intrigue, processing the familiar sounds of her American accent.

“You are from the United States?” He asked incredulously.

“Yes, I am.”
She replied pleasantly.

“I’m sorry, but when you
neglected to
answer me before, I thought that perhaps you didn’t understand English.  I’m
Luke Springwell
.
” He extended his hand as she shook it delicately.

“Rebecca Meadow.”
She offered with a slight curts
y.

Luke rose from the bench to provide her with a chivalrous bow, and she noted how much their heights differed.  He stood proud at around six feet
and possessed an impossibly athletic build.

“That was an exquisite rendition of “
Für Elise
.”  Is Beethoven your favorite composer?”

Luke gave Rebecca a look of sheer amusement that made her wonder if she had said something foolish. 
In a tone that contained
a
hint of condescension, he said,
“There have been too many extraordinary musical composers to cite just one favorite.  Beethoven is certainly one of the giants, but I don’t prefer him to Bach or Mozart or any of the others.  They’re all worthy to my ears.”