Page 12 of A Song in the Dark

chapter Three

Chaisley ached from the voyage. How could she be tired of it already?

Granted, their ship had troubles early on, and they sat in the port of Dover for three days.

Although now they’d made the short trip by sea to Amsterdam.

The first leg to the continent was done, but she was already dreading more travel, and the tour hadn’t even started yet.

“It’s bone-wearying, isn’t it?” Melanie moaned. “I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of traveling already.”

Chaisley laughed and then yawned as she stretched her limbs and stood. “You took the words right out of my mind.”

“Well, at least we are finally done with our journey by boat for a while.” Her friend let out a breath. “Going by car is much more enjoyable. The water always makes me queasy.”

The sounds of travel cases being moved around their room joined in with the cacophony from the dock.

“Our new driver is supposed to come to the stateroom and get our bags. I’ll assess him and determine if he is acceptable by the time we reach your grandmother’s.” Melanie had become much more direct and protective as they’d journeyed.

It reminded Chaisley of the years before Melanie’s mother died. Melanie had been quite the force to be reckoned with back then. After her mother was gone, though, it was a different story. So to hear confidence back in her voice now was more than encouraging.

Perhaps this journey was giving her friend a new purpose as well.

Purpose. The word washed over her, leaving renewed resolve in its wake. Her thoughts hadn’t stopped spinning in the last week and a half with partially formed plans and ideas that led to more ideas.

And then she remembered Dr. G’s contact list.

At first, Chaisley feared what might arise to put them in a position to need the list, but now? Giving hope to those suffering overpowered her fears. More than anything, she wanted to give hope to Mary Beth and Geraldine. There had to be more like them as well.

Using music to inspire and lift spirits was a gift. Twelve new pieces written in musical braille sat in her music folder, their themes all reflecting brighter futures.

Hope.

She ran her fingers over the buttons of her dress, smoothing the fabric.

This tour would be different. She would be different. Ready to do anything within her power to help those in dire straits.

Exactly what God was calling her to do wasn’t clear. Yet. But she was back in the Bible, praying, and seeking Him. And in time, she would talk to Melanie about all her ideas. She needed a bit more time to think through details.

A knock sounded at the door, and she turned her face in that direction.

“Come in.”

Melanie’s take-charge tone almost made Chaisley giggle. She lifted a hand to her mouth and covered her mirth.

The door creaked open.

“ Ik ben de chauffeur van mevrouw Frappier .” The male voice was a bit hesitant. Was the man nervous?

“This is Miss Frappier. I am her assistant, Miss Brigman,” Melanie replied in perfect Dutch.

“Friederich Zimmerman.”

The slight rustle of something—his uniform? He must have bowed.

“But I prefer to go by Rick.”

Chaisley raised a brow. A bit too familiar for a driver, but she didn’t have the opportunity to comment as Melanie continued her inquisition.

“Do you speak other languages, Mr. Zimmerman?”

“German, Miss, if that is more comfortable?” The man’s soft voice held kindness. Humility.

Chaisley liked it, which made her like the man. So far. A lot could be heard in the intonations of a person’s voice.

“We can do either. Do you speak English as well?” Melanie continued, her tone no-nonsense.

“Very little.”

Chaisley restrained a frown. His response was ... different. Was he embarrassed that he didn’t speak much English, or was it something else? She’d have to hear him speak a bit more to ascertain what she’d picked up.

Chaisley stood and turned her face toward the sound of his voice. “It is a pleasure to have you as our driver.”

His shoes shuffled a bit on the floor. “It is my honor.”

Had he noticed anything? “I guess we should be off. My grandmother will be anxious to see us.” And she’d counted down the hours until she could hug her grandmother again.

“Of course. Allow me to load the bags into the auto. It shouldn’t take too long.”

Cases clunked against one another, and his heavy footsteps moved away. Chaisley waited for Melanie to be at her side.

Melanie took her elbow. “He’ll need to make one more trip for the rest of the luggage. Are you ready?”

“I am.” She pinched her lips together. “But I don’t wish to use the cane right now. It calls too much attention to me.”

“I understand. I’ll just whisper directions as we go.” The clicking of the wood as Melanie folded up Chaisley’s long walking stick was a familiar sound. “I’ll tuck it into my bag and have it, just in case.”

“Thank you.” When she’d first heard of the foldable cane, Chaisley had contacted Dr. Grafton to find out if she could order one made to her specifications. The long stick had been a lifesaver to her on many occasions, serving as her eyes when she was in a new location.

A whoosh of air blew through the room. Chaisley paused. The driver’s steps were different this time. Quicker. Lighter. Brass buckles clacked against one another. Ah, he was gathering the rest of the luggage.

“If you’ll follow me.” His voice was a baritone. Smooth and rich.

Melanie’s palm slipped beneath Chaisley’s elbow and navigated her toward the door. “It’s narrow and then a sharp right turn down the hallway. That will be familiar. Until we get to the gangplank.”

Chaisley nodded and walked beside her friend, hearing the sounds of other passengers preparing to leave the echoing ship.

“Left. At least ten steps straight. Stay close to me, the gangplank is much narrower than in England. A bit steeper as well.”

Chaisley had learned to navigate the world quite well on her own, but situations like this, where a misstep could mean a fall—or worse—she accepted assistance.

“I’ll hold onto the belt of your dress and walk directly behind you.

No need for me to call more attention to myself by falling off the gangplank. ”

“Just play like you are afraid of heights. No one will think a thing of it.”

Chaisley took hold of her friend’s belt. The leather was smooth and firm under her fingers. “I’m ready.”

“Here we go. Slight step up to the ramp and then a steep decline toward the dock. It’s at least two hundred feet in length.” Melanie moved forward.

With a deep breath, Chaisley stepped up and felt the decline of the ramp under her feet.

She put a hand over her brow acting like she couldn’t bear to look down.

They moved at an adagio pace down the gangplank.

Their slow tempo was easy, their steps rhythmic.

Chaisley listened to each step Melanie took before she took her own.

She scrunched her nose at the salty sea air, thick with the aroma of fish.

Thank goodness a stiff wind kept the air moving past.

The clanging of metal against metal evoked a picture of the buoys around the lighthouse near her childhood summer home.

It was the same sound now, but multiplied.

How many ships were in the harbor? There were enough voices for a crowd of several hundred.

The voices—accompanied by the horns of the ships, all at different pitches, and the lapping of the waves against the dock below—were a veritable symphony.

After her ninety-fifth step, Chaisley felt Melanie come to a stop.

Her companion’s rushed whisper reached her ears. “Take a large step forward. There’s a gap.”

She did as instructed and then Melanie took her elbow again and they fell into step, side by side.

“The car is straight ahead. Nothing between us and it, about forty paces.”

At the vehicle, Melanie gently tugged her to a stop. “It’s a Phantom limousine, just like the one at home.” The words were so soft they barely reached Chaisley’s ear.

A door released an almost silent creak as it opened, and she reached forward to feel the auto’s frame. She lowered her head as she ducked into the car’s interior. “Thank you, Mr. Zimmerman.”

She slid across the seat to allow Melanie entrance. The soft velvet beneath her moved a bit as her friend sat and then the door clicked closed.

“That wasn’t so bad.” Melanie switched to English. “But I think you need to tell our driver at some point.”

“I will in time. If we are fortunate to have the same driver for the extent of the tour, I’m sure we will get to know him quite well.” The auto shifted—a shift she was used to. The driver was in his seat now.

The engine purred to life, and they moved forward.

Papers shuffled beside her. “According to the information from the service, we are supposed to have the same driver for the entire tour.” Melanie patted her arm.

Chaisley leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “Good.”

There was something about the man’s voice ... the warmth in it.

So far, she liked what she’d heard.

Chaisley leaned toward Melanie. “Once we arrive, you go on in and see Grandmother. I need to speak with Mr. Zimmerman.”

Her friend stiffened beside her. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. We’ve just met this man.”

She released a tiny huff. “Fine. If you wish, you and Grandmother can watch out the window for our every move and have her butler come out and stand in front of the car as a guard. But I’m going to speak with him. Alone.”

A measured exhale slipped from Melanie, but no words for several seconds. “I can agree to that. But I’ll return when I see you exit the car.”

The limousine went around a curve, and Chaisley was shifted toward the door. Anticipation shivered up her spine as the car slowed and went up a slight incline.

They’d arrived.