The Music Trilogy (26 page)

PRESENT DAY

BEIJING, CHINA

EPILOGUE

The immense ruby-red velvet curtain stood at attention above the stage at the Beijing Concert Hall. The crème de la crème of Chinese society, prominent international celebrities, foreign representatives from the worlds of politics and the arts wore their finest designer gowns and elegant tuxedos to witness an unprecedented show. They knew they were of the lucky few and buzzed in hungry anticipation for the one-time event.

Davina Walters sat quietly on the bench in front of the Steinway in the center of the stage behind the curtain. The piano, too, was a deep red, and Davina lovingly caressed the keys with her long fingers. She was deep in thought and focused on her program. This would not be her usual concert. No, this would be one of her most important. Her long, silky amber-blond hair was elegantly tied back in a chignon and decorated with a white lotus flower. Her eyes, the color of liquid jade, had a natural brilliance. They were even more striking during her performances and hypnotized her audience. She adored what she did. Music was her narcotic. It gave her a natural high that emanated from deep within her soul. Davina closed her lovely limpid eyes. Lids, with heavy theatrical make up, were covered in rainbow colors and matched the wavy iridescent pattern of her long silk Chinese-cut gown, made especially for the show. Her full sensual lips were also blood red, again matching the Chinese theme of the evening. Davina was not only a stunning woman—she was also revered as one of the greatest entertainers in the world. The night would be one to remember.

Davina looked to her side. The orchestra was ready—China’s finest. The men dressed in their best tuxedos with red silk bowties, and the ladies wearing exquisite copies of ancient Chinese gowns. Davina nodded to the Maestro and blew him a kiss. He smiled back. He adored her. They had been together for many years and he knew what every look, gesture and movement meant. A wonderful musician and leader himself, he managed to make Davina shine even more. They had been through wonderful times together, performed in over eighty countries, innumerable stages and recorded their music with professionalism. They had also been through difficult and troubled times and were as close as brother and sister. Their bond was unwavering. He slightly nodded to her and then looked at the musician next to the first violin. A young Chinese woman smiled and nodded back. Her hands were placed on her
qin,
a seven-string zither. The instrument was adored by poets and painters and hailed as one of the oldest known instruments in China. The maestro lifted his arms. The orchestra had his full attention.

Soundlessly, the heavy curtain rose, the stage in complete darkness as the audience stared silently at the black void. No sound, not a whisper from anyone. A lone spot slowly opened on the qin; nothing else visible, as the sensual voice of the instrument slowly exuded its first notes. The audience was mesmerized by its music, classically oriental in its sweetness, which gently vibrated through their bodies and took them back in time hundreds of years, when the qin originated its charm to their ancestors. Davina, still in total darkness, softly entered on the piano. The lights, expertly on cue, enveloped her in a halo so that only her silhouette and the Chinese woman’s hands were visible. The rest of the lights, covered with warm red gels, slowly bathed the entire stage. The audience gasped at the magical, heart-stopping overture, perhaps feeling the talent of the musicians’ art, their own love for their ancestral heritage, or possibly the splendor of the music—a combination of classical and oriental, with a slightly modern twist. The maestro led the orchestra, making the entire ensemble flow. The stage was now completely lit by colored lights—except for one small solitary area on top of the piano. The members of the orchestra, including Davina, started to perspire. Small beads formed on their foreheads, bodies became clammy, and hearts beat wildly like athletes giving their utmost. At times they held their breath, playing delicate notes, then pushed themselves and their instruments to their limits, never wavering a moment, never faltering. Davina lifted her hands from the keys and took the microphone reposing patiently on the piano. She held it as if it were a delicate Lalique crystal filled with France’s most exquisite champagne, and brought it close to her lips. She opened her mouth, revealing lovely straight white teeth and formed a perfect circle with her lips. Her breath pushed out a powerful flawless note as the audience clapped thunderously. Davina stood up from the bench and gracefully walked to the front of the stage as her free hand made elegant patterns through the air. Her voice rang out, rich and vibrant, with the power and range of a classical opera singer, yet modern and sensual. Men immediately fell in love with her, women wanted to be her best friend.

The composition peaked to a crescendo, and then slowly, gently, it came back down, and ended with a solitary note from the qin. The audience exploded into applause. Davina gestured to her maestro and he bowed deeply. He turned to the orchestra and motioned first to the young qin player, who received great appreciation, and then to the rest of the musicians.

“Ladies and gentlemen, good evening,” Davina said to the spectators. “I am very honored to be here. Although I am American, I feel I am a citizen of the world. China has always made me feel welcome in that, I too, at least a little part of me, belong to this glorious nation.” More enthusiastic applause. Davina stood regally, like an adored empress among her subjects. “Tonight is very special,” she continued, “I see among us many prominent citizens from around the world—Ministers, Ambassadors, brilliant Nobel recipients and unique entertainers.” The audience clapped politely. “I would like to extend my gratitude and appreciation to his Excellency, the Prime Minister, Mr. Zheng Lee.” She raised her hand toward him. The minister stood and took a bow. The viewers clapped again. She smiled, a sly smile. “He and I have a secret… and we
will
divulge it… but a little later.” The crowd groaned and laughed. The Chinese loved a good riddle.

The orchestra, started up, perfectly on cue, and Davina began her next song. Not only was she a singer but also a composer who wrote all of her songs. Tonight she performed as she had never before, with the uniqueness of her voice and with her heart and soul. She was sure, or at the very least she thought she sensed, the great musicians of her past lovingly watching her from their garden in the sky.

The concert was coming to an end and Davina, now back at the piano, nodded to the Prime Minister. He went up onto the stage and stood next to her, respectfully watching her play. They bowed to each other and she continued to sing, and then to the spectators she said: “No, this is not our little surprise. Unfortunately the Minister did not want to do a duet with me tonight.” The audience laughed. “But now, as promised, it is time.” A big
aahh
came from the crowd; they were practically sitting at attention. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Davina continued, “our little secret is… right here.” She gestured to the dark spot on the piano and started humming another song; a melody with mystery in it, a combination of intrigue and enlightenment. The theater was once again bathed in complete darkness. Davina sung several notes to one syllable, a tune with lovely made-up sounds that resembled words. The aficionados heard the melisma, though they could not see her.

A solitary spotlight opened very slowly on the small, once dark area on the piano, and continued to grow brighter until the full zenith of the lights made everyone present gasp and stare.

They were blinded by Davina’s secret.

Davina Walters’ song came to an end. The audience, still blinded by the brilliance and exquisiteness of the vase, could only stare. The Prime Minister, Zheng Lee, came back on stage and extended his arm to her. She took it graciously and together they went and stood behind the vase on the piano. The audience was standing and clapping. The Minister took the microphone and together they proceeded to the front of the stage.

“The
secret
as you have now seen is this wonderful vase,” the Minister said. “We are immensely proud that this magnificent piece dating back to the Song dynasty is back in China. We, the people of China, owe a great deal of gratitude to Miss Walters. She has brought it here tonight and is gifting it to the country of its origin, to be placed in a museum so that the entire world may see it.” More applause from the crowd. “It has been in her family for generations. I do not have to tell you what an honor this is for us.” Turning to Davina he bowed deeply. She in turn put her hands together and bowed back. “I know how much this vase means to her and how much she will miss it. If we could reproduce an exact copy and give it to her it still would not do it justice. The only thing we can give her in return is the gratitude we have in our hearts, a lifetime visa to come to our country,” Davina and the audience laughed, “and one more little thing.” The Minister reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a red velvet box. “I am honored, Miss Walters, to bestow upon you, with my gratitude and the gratitude of the people of China, our highest merit, the medal of Good Citizenry.” The audience roared with enthusiasm and support and the orchestra stood and clapped. The Prime Minister opened the box, removed the medal and pinned it on her dress. Davina’s eyes were wet with tears. The Minister bowed again, as did Davina. He handed the microphone over to the singer.

“Oh, Mr. Prime Minister, the honor is truly mine. As you mentioned, this most exquisite piece of history has been in my family for more than a century. But it was only on loan. I do not know its exact origin other than dating back to the glorious Song Dynasty or the great Master artist, the See-Fu, that produced it, but I know for sure that it was made with great love and perhaps also with music—I would like to think so, since it is from the
Song
Dynasty.” The audience clapped, enjoying her play on words. “All my compositions were made at my piano, sitting next to this great friend. It inspired me. And before my time, it was in the wonderful hands of my mother, Melina Malandros Walters, who was an opera singer and before her with my grandmother, Valentina Vidalis Malandros, also a great opera singer and as far back as my great grandmother, Sela Vidalis, who was a glorious and amazing concert pianist. We all have loved it, and of course it was always surrounded by music. Now, who inspired who, I am not sure. Was it the vase that moved us to be musicians? Or did we contribute to the legacy that the vase insist it be surrounded by music? Either way, it is an inspiration. Perhaps its soul has music, as I’m sure the great artist must have been listening to beautiful sounds when he made this, not to mention the great love for his daughter, since it was dedicated to her.

I thank you all, wonderful people of China, for your kindness, your traditions and the refined beauty of your talented artisans.” Davina touched the vase one last time and looked at her audience. “Before we leave tonight I would like to dedicate this vase from the Song Dynasty to all musicians who produce music from Sound, the very first gift from the Universe. May each soul understand its power and use it to promote peace of every kind. Goodnight and thank you.”

Davina looked at the Steinway and saw the most beautiful Chinese woman sitting on the edge of the piano. She was absolutely stunning, elegant in her long white gown, which seemed translucent but really wasn’t. One could sense the power and wisdom of this being, yet also her gentleness and kindness, as well as the aura that encocooned her that emanated from her heart. She looked at Davina and smiled, the smile that said:
“Thank you, I’m proud of you. You have touched many people this evening, here and around the world. You have given them great joy and you merged with the soul of the vase. When you composed, played and sang your music its energy was with you. You became one with it. Now you have brought it back to the country of its birth and it will continue to touch all of humanity, not just in China, but throughout the world, with the music and beauty of its soul.”

Tears gently ran down Davina’s face. She stared at the divine Goddess until the vision floated upward and disappeared. Her elderly mother, Melina, was in the audience and Davina was sure that William, Valentina, Nico, Sela, Ivan, Ali and even Simeon, were sitting on the rightest star in the sky watching the show with great enthusiasm and pride. Davina looked up, as See-Fu had so many centuries ago and said: “Thank you Quan Yin, thank you for this beautiful family and for this peace of music.”

♫♫♫

BOOK TWO

OBSESSION OF THE HEART

_____________

DENISE KAHN

DEDICATION

To true Friends