Preludes, page 7
She had spent too long in her self-imposed emotional exile, too long in her box. She had been set free and she would not return. Right now, she would mourn for what might have been, but only for now. She would indulge these reminiscences, and then move past them.
For that moment yesterday, after the devastation of seeing her nephew’s injured body rushed to the hospital, after their desperate reconnection, she thought that there might be another chance for her and Fred. He had initiated the kiss that led to their night together; he must have known she wanted it too. Why would he think she had left him in the past if she had welcomed him into her bed so willingly?
Images from eight years before came flooding back. Their deep love for each other; Professor Russell’s relentless urging; Anne’s decision to remain in Toronto. And Fred’s furious response.
He had been so excited about his invitation to study with a world-renowned maestro in Italy. Giancarlo Buscagni had accepted him as a member of his orchestra; Fred’s skill on the cello was undisputed, and Anne knew he could have succeeded as a performing musician. But the orchestra was Fred’s true passion. Why play one instrument when one can play a hundred, all at once? Buscagni’s invitation was a dream come true, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. He was all but finished his Doctor of Music degree and had one last performance to conduct before he was done. It would mean leaving the city and the internship he had arranged with a second professional orchestra in town, but really, there was no choice to be made other than when he would leave.
Anne, at first, had been delighted. She could, of course, write her own music anywhere, and she could take a leave from her own studies for a year or more. Fred’s career was about to take off, and he would reach stellar heights. Think of those great conductors over the years: Van Karajan, Ozawa, Toscanini, Mehta, Boulanger, and now Valore. It was their dream come true.
And then Professor Russell had stepped in. Slowly, persistently, relentlessly, she had gone after Anne again and again until at last Anne relented. Professor Russell was correct. If Anne wished to succeed as a composer, she needed her degree. Of course her music could stand by itself, but the weight of a doctorate, that extra time studying and honing her art, the contacts she could make through her professors, would make the difference between being a gifted composer no one heard of and being a household name, one of the brightest musical lights of half a century.
Fred would find his fame in Europe; Anne would find hers here, at the University.
And Anne, reluctantly, agreed. She would stay.
Fred, on the other hand, was less pleased with Professor Russell’s efforts.
“I can’t believe this, Annie. This is everything we’ve hoped for. If you really loved me, you would come with me. Just for a year. You can still finish your degree later. You said you loved me!”
He had begged but, with Professor Russell’s words and admonitions still ringing in her ears, she had refused.
“I do love you, Fred. But it’s not just your career. It’s mine too. We can both do this. This doesn’t have to be the end. We’re not in the nineteenth century anymore. We can email, we can Skype. I can fly over to see you every couple of months. You can come home. You’ll want to see your family, anyway. It will only be a couple of years. Then I’ll have finished my degree, and I can move to be with you permanently. Surely, we’re strong enough to make this work for a couple of years.”
But it had not been enough. The discussion degenerated into a row, and it soon became clear that Anne had a decision to make: her man or her career. Professor Russell constantly in her subconscious, Anne chose her career.
And Fred had stormed out of the apartment, never to return other than to pack his stuff one day when Anne was out.
Eight years ago… nearly eight years.
Later, she would be strong. But now, Anne wept.
“Anne? Want to talk about it?” Sophia handed her a tall ceramic mug. “Chai, just the way you like it, with vanilla sugar on top.”
They were sitting in their usual places at Percolations, their favourite coffee shop, the one where the friendly counter staff put your order on a tray with little pieces of chocolate beside each drink. Outside, the sun was blistering. Inside, the air conditioning kept everybody comfortable, allowing them to sit at the window and people watch without the inconvenience of exposure to nature. It was a busy downtown corner in the part of town where daytime commercial enterprise blended into funky streetscapes and upscale residential buildings. Anne’s condo was not too far away, on a somewhat less funky and upscale street. But Sophia loved this spot. It was trendy and interesting and close enough to the financial core that Jeremy could stop by for a coffee if he knew she was at her chosen table.
“Anne? You’ve been in the dumps all week. Is it your nephew? How is he?”
Once again, Anne hid her face behind her drink while she scrambled for a response. The warm spicy notes of the chai tea stimulated her senses, all cinnamon and clove and cardamom, and she breathed deeply before taking a small sip of the creamy hot liquid. Something in the warm drink soothed as it titillated and she squashed the memory of panic enough to answer her friend.
“Poor Dylan. I can’t stop feeling I should have been able to do something. I guess it’s something I’ll have to live with forever. But he’ll be okay. He needed surgery on his broken arm and he was unconscious for a while, but he’s definitely on the mend. He’s coming home from the hospital today, thank heavens. Marie will probably never talk to me again, though.” She buried all her conflicting emotions in another sip of the chai.
Because it wasn’t really Dylan who dwelt constantly in her mind. It was Fred. And she was not at all ready to talk about that.
Sophia gave her another of those looks, but just smiled serenely. “I am pleased to hear that. About him coming home, of course. And I’m sure Marie will forgive you soon enough. She is still traumatised. Who wouldn’t be? I’ll send over a little something for the boy this afternoon. Something soft. Does he still like teddy bears? I think I saw one that’s three feet tall. He should like that. And flowers for Marie and Charles. And of course, something for Jake. Maybe some building blocks? No, no flowers. A meal. After all this, the last thing they need is to have to cook.”
“You are generous to a fault. Thank you. They’ll appreciate it.” Another sip of tea.
She fell silent for a moment as a young mother sidled by in search of a table, one hand pushing a baby stroller that looked like it cost more than a small car, the other holding a toddler’s hand. A renewed pang of guilt stabbed her in the gut. Everything reminded her of Dylan and her utter failure to keep him safe. No wonder Marie had threatened never to allow her near the boys again. That hurt almost as much as her disastrous outing the other day.
The woman settled her toddler on the bench and started fumbling with the stroller brakes. There was a high chair in the corner. Anne slid from her seat and approached the woman, gesturing to the chair with her head.
“Would you like me to get it for you?”
Great, dark, thankful eyes blinked at her and the woman’s shoulders dropped two inches. “Would you mind…?”
In two seconds, Anne was back and the woman set about loading her little girl into the chair.
“What’s your name?” Anne asked the frazzled mother. Then, realising how this might be taken, hurried to add, “When I hear it, I’ll go and get your tray.” If she couldn’t help Marie and Dylan, she could at least help a stranger with a young child.
“Suri!” the barista at the counter called out.
“That’s me. Here’s my receipt if they need it.”
Anne sidled through the tables to collect the tray and brought it to where the woman and her children sat.
“You’re a lifesaver.” Suri beamed at her. “I can’t thank you enough. It’s been quite a day.”
A lifesaver… The furthest thing from it. But Anne just mumbled something about having spent enough time looking after her nephews and wished the woman a lovely day before returning to Sophia.
“You done good, kid.”
“She would have managed. I don’t know how, but she would have.”
Sophia reached over to touch Anne’s hand as it rested on the table. “Yes, she would have managed. But she didn’t have to. You made a difference. She’ll smile more tonight.”
And after several days of the most dreadful self-recrimination, these were welcome words. Like Suri, the weight on Anne’s shoulders eased a touch. Was she blushing? Oh, God. She would make a terrible poker player. Still, she felt lighter. Brighter somehow. That smile on her face was there of its own accord, not forced, and it felt good.
Another sip of tea, although it was getting cold.
“It’s a gorgeous day today, if a bit hot.” Anne changed the topic. “I brought my camera with me to try to get some photos in the parks, or maybe some streetscapes. Are you planning on a walk later?”
Sophia shook her head. “Not today. I’m meeting Jeremy here later on. He’s bringing someone he wants me to meet. He’s new to the orchestra’s board of directors and he wants to talk about fundraising ideas. They’ll be along in…” she checked her watch, “about half an hour. You can stay if you’d like. I’m sure he’d be pleased to meet you, too.”
Was it that man who had been at the rehearsal those short weeks ago? She had hardly given him another thought afterwards, although he had made the effort to look friendly and nod at her whenever their eyes met. He was the only new board member she had heard of, but she had not exactly been paying attention to the orchestra’s press releases regarding its board members. Fred’s desertion last Tuesday still left its mark on her psyche and clouded out all other thoughts, despite her determination to move forward.
“I’m not sure I’m up to meeting a new board member right now. I’m not quite feeling all sparkly and brilliant like I should. And look at me. I didn’t dress to meet anybody; I’m a bit of a mess.”
Her eyes dipped to take in her dark blue t-shirt and patterned broomstick skirt. More than adequate for a coffee with an old friend. Less than impressive for meeting a new member of the board. Her hand crept up to her hair, which she was certain was a mess from being crammed into her sun hat.
But Sophia laughed away her inadequacies with the wave of a manicured hand. “Nonsense, Anne. You are in fine spirits today, and you look lovely. I know I tell you not to wear so many dark colours, but that blue suits you. Your cheeks look positively rosy today. Only your eyes are sad. Something else is the matter, I know it. You’re sure you don’t want to talk about it? Here, have a taste of this cake. It’s got just the slightest hint of burned caramel in the icing. Chocolate helps everything.”
Anne took the offered tidbit. “Yeah. I’m sure. Just processing. Tell me more about the trip you were planning.”
“Ah, the trip. That requires more cake and another latte. Back in a jiff!”
Sophia slipped out of her chair for a moment and returned with a grin. “They’ll bring it right away, since they know me. Well. About our plans… We wanted to go to Venice, but Jeremy has a former colleague who once rented a villa near Dubrovnik…”
By the time Sophia finished talking about her ideas and plans, two more mugs sat empty on the table between them and the cake—with two forks—had been reduced to a few stray crumbs decorating the white plate.
The recitation must have taken longer than Anne thought, for just as she was about to slip out of the coffee shop, Jeremy’s voice sounded through the place.
“Soph, my love! And look, Anne is with her. Come over, William, and meet my two favourite ladies.”
In a moment, Jeremy was standing by the table, another man at his side. It was, indeed, the same stranger who had been at the rehearsal not so long ago. Sophia shifted over and the two men pulled up chairs to sit as well.
Jeremy started to make the introductions, but the newcomer reached across the table with an open hand. “William Barnett. A delight to meet you, Dr. Elliot. I saw you at the rehearsal, of course. Your symphony is just wonderful.”
“Call me Anne, please.” She shook the offered hand. His skin was warm and soft and his nails neat, the hand of a man who takes good care of himself. She looked up at his face. It was, as was her first impression, rather handsome, with light brown wavy hair and an easy smile. His entire appearance matched his manicured hands: elegant, very well tended, suave. Now, in the full light of the bright window, she could see his eyes were light blue, and that they crinkled at the corner when he smiled. Which he did a lot.
“William has just joined the board,” Jeremy explained as he introduced him to Sophia. “He is a property developer, and a true lover of the arts.”
“Indeed!” William interjected. “Music, theatre… I was a clarinet player when I was younger and almost went into music, but, well, the lure of business was too strong to resist. Then I discovered I could use my business experience to support the performing arts organisations I love so much.”
“It’s such a win-win,” Jeremy nodded. “Let me put in an order, and then we can talk about ideas. William comes to us with so many ideas, Soph. What will it be? Latte? Tea? Cheesecake?”
He was up in a moment, leaving the others to smile at each other and comment on the weather until Jeremy returned, to be followed a minute later by a barista carrying a large tray.
“Black coffee and cheesecake,” she placed them down in front of Jeremy, “and espresso and the double-dip biscotti for you, sir?”
“Not a cheesecake fan, Mr. Barnett?” Sophia laughed as she picked up her fork to attack her husband’s treat.
“Need to keep my boyish figure,” he joked in reply as he patted his stomach. He certainly looked trim and fit. “And it’s William, please. We’re all friends here.” His eyes flickered to Anne, and she thought his eyebrows rose suggestively when she caught his glance.
For a few minutes, the conversation was general, as William addressed his comments to the group. Had they seen the latest Van Gogh exhibit at the art gallery? What were their thoughts on the new theatre season? A particularly famous local author was doing a reading of her latest novel at the main library; what had they thought of the book that was garnering so much press?
He was witty and articulate, and when he spoke of the arts, Anne could hear the passion in his voice. If he approached the orchestra with this sort of zeal, he would be an asset to the board indeed.
As the topics veered towards the fundraising ideas he wished to broach with Sophia, Anne began to shift in her seat.
“Pardon me, but I should get going and leave you to your business. I’m afraid this sort of thing goes over my head.” She found the straps to her tote and checked to ensure her camera was inside.
“Must you go so soon, Anne?” William cocked his head just enough to give the hint of boyishness to his polished demeanour. It was very attractive. Then his eyes lit on Anne’s camera. “Oh! Are you a photographer too?”
She felt that blush creep across her face again. “No, not at all. I enjoy it as a hobby, but I have no real training. I find it a good way to relax, almost like—”
“Almost like meditation,” he supplied. “Yes. Walking through a park is a pleasure in itself, but walking with the focus of searching out beauty in unexpected places, that brings you to a very different level of consciousness, doesn’t it?”
Anne blinked at him. She felt her lips curl into a slight smile, and he answered it. “Yes, I suppose that is so. I’d never really thought of it that way before. Searching for beauty where it’s not expected. That is what we do, isn’t it?”
He leaned back in his chair and let his head fall back just a touch as his eyes caressed her face. “Fortunately, I do not have to look very far to find beauty now. Perhaps, Anne, we might go out together one day. I don’t have a particularly fine camera, but it’s a hobby of mine too. One evening, when it’s a bit cooler? If it’s late enough, we might hit that magic golden hour light.”
It was high summer; sunset was close to ten at night. That sounded almost like…
“I wouldn’t want to bore you with my ramblings,” she mumbled, but he would not be deterred.
“Bore me? No! I don’t go out with my camera often enough, and my friends aren’t interested at all. They’d rather watch some game or play pool. It would be a delight. What do you say?”
He pulled out his phone and his fingers danced across the screen for a moment. “There. What about Wednesday? The forecast is perfect, if you believe what they tell us. Can I call you or send you a text to make plans?”
Wednesday. That was usually the night she went to the Musgroves to have dinner and then watch the boys while Marie and Charles went out for an hour or so together. She was persona non grata with Marie, this week at least. She had no plans for Wednesday.
That little thread of steel worked its way through her once more, and she made her decision. It was time to move on. She met his gaze with a smile.
“Yes, thank you. That sounds lovely. I’m looking forward to it.”
They exchanged numbers and emails on their phones and said their goodbyes for now.
Anne didn’t even mind the very pointed look that Sophia sent her way.
Chapter Nine
Second Theme
Every so often, the unimaginable happens. Contrary to every expectation or every seeming possibility, forces in the universe seem to align to bring some unanticipated phenomenon to fruition. Sometimes it’s an uncanny coincidence of events that brings two long-lost friends together. Sometimes it’s putting your hand into a pocket that you thought was empty, only to find a five-dollar bill just when you’re itching for a cappuccino, or finding an empty parking spot right in front of your destination. And sometimes, just sometimes, the weather forecast is accurate.
