Page 17 of A Song in the Dark

c hapter Five

Germany

If his mother could see him now. In his Nazi uniform. Polished boots. Rising through the ranks to work directly under the Führer .

Wouldn’t she be proud? Perhaps she wouldn’t have divorced his father and left had she known what was coming. He could have grown up with parents who loved each other and doted on him.

No matter. He gazed into the mirror to check that everything was perfect. Spotless. Herr Hitler had summoned him this morning, saying he was the perfect Aryan specimen. The perfect officer. The perfect example of a man loyal to the cause.

Maybe another promotion was coming.

After all, he had single-handedly rounded up those Polish Jews trying to start an uprising.

He smiled into the mirror, showing his white and straight teeth.

He deserved another promotion.

He would be loyal to the end. Because he believed.

Hitler would change the world, and he would be right by his side.

Belgium

“If there is any change in elevation whatsoever, even as tiny as half an inch, make sure you tell her. Give her specific directions left, right, forward, backward. If you can do it accurately, give her the turn in degrees if it’s not exactly ninety degrees.

And give her an approximate distance from the next door or turn as in so many feet.

” Melanie was pointing a finger at him, and he did his best to hold back his laughter.

She reminded him of a teacher he had when he was a child.

“Meters okay? I know you British like feet, but I’m more familiar with meters.” Rick scribbled notes as fast as he could on a notepad while they sat in the car and ate their lunch. He glanced back at them. Was his cover holding?

Melanie nudged Chaisley just as she was about to speak.

Chaisley’s mouth snapped closed and then she nodded. “Yes, meters are fine. Just be clear which you’re using.”

Interesting. What was that about? “What else?” Rick shoved a bite of sandwich into his mouth and held his pencil at the ready.

“When we arrive at places, get as close to the curb as you can if there is one. It’s easier to navigate stepping directly onto the curb.

It eliminates a stumbling hazard if you’re too close or too far away.

When you open the door, whisper any directions she’ll need immediately.

Then wait for her to place both feet on the ground before moving.

She needs her balance.” Melanie took a slice of apple and bit into it.

“Are you overwhelmed with all the information?”

Yes. But he would not let on for a moment. “Not a bit. I admit that I enjoy numbers and the preciseness of this little project.”

Chaisley laughed. And not just a little laugh, this was full-on laughter.

“What did I say?” He stared at Melanie in the mirror, but she had begun to laugh with her friend.

“I simply find it funny that you think of me as a project.”

Oh boy. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it in any way to be an insult.”

“Not at all.” Chaisley’s smile brightened the entire interior of the vehicle. “My Mum and Dad always had to give me projects to do when I was young, to keep me occupied. Especially while my father was having the music wing built. I pestered him over and over about that.”

That smile was dangerous. Her laughter was a threat. In training, his superiors had drilled the stupidity of entertaining a tendre for an asset or target. He’d always been so sure he was immune to such things. Now...

Here he was, turned to mush by a smile of all things.

It wouldn’t do. However, it would serve his purpose to keep the camaraderie flowing.

So he returned her smile with a small one of his own.

Not that she could see it. But Melanie could.

“They sound like wonderful people. I’d love to meet them someday. ”

Her eyes lost their sparkle, and her smile faded.

Uh-oh. Perhaps he’d pushed too far. But that was what he did. He was good at it. As an agent, it was easy to be unattached and emotionless.

Her chin trembled the tiniest bit. “They were killed on my birthday twenty years ago.”

Sudden silence seemed to suck all the air out of the vehicle. Now he’d done it. “I’m so sorry. I—”

Melanie shook her head at him, and he clamped his mouth shut.

He took a sip of water out of his canteen, and it felt like his swallow echoed inside the small space of the vehicle, which seemed to grow smaller by the second.

The death of her parents had been in Chaisley’s file.

Bringing them up was exactly what he should have done.

To test her. Find out everything he could.

So why did he feel like a terrible man now? Like he’d betrayed her.

Melanie began to put away things in the picnic basket while Chaisley’s face was turned toward the window. The ever-proper assistant cleared her throat. “We should probably get back on the road so we don’t arrive too late. I know we will need our rest tonight.”

Rick tidied up the front seat, glancing back at the pianist. Her profile was still lovely ... but so sad. Then she leaned her forehead against the window and closed her eyes.

She’d lost her parents twenty years ago, so she’d been just a child. How had she endured that loss at such a young age? And being blind on top of it all? He dusted crumbs off his slacks. It was hard to imagine.

He’d been in his early twenties when he lost his parents. It hadn’t been easy to survive without them. He rubbed his chest, trying to erase the ache.

It didn’t work. He did a mental shake of his thoughts. This wasn’t personal. He was doing his job. That was all.

Still, he couldn’t dislodge the feeling that he’d purposefully opened a wound and poured salt into it.

“Don’t feel sorry for me, Rick.” Chaisley’s tone was sharp. “I can practically feel it oozing off of you. I don’t need your pity.”

He jerked back, her words ringing through him as if she’d slapped him. Who’d said anything about pity? “I’m sorry. I was thinking how hard it was to lose my own parents and thought of you and—”

“I had two wonderful parents who God gave me for a short time. Then two incredible people stepped in as my guardians. One, you’ve met.

My grandmother. And then I had Mary Beth—Melanie’s mother—and my dear friend here.

I’ve been blessed by so much more than others who are less fortunate that it is insulting to have you feel sorry for me.

” Her face was still aimed toward the window, but her words were firm.

“My apologies. Please forgive me.”

“You are forgiven.”

He frowned. It sure didn’t sound like it. He looked in the rearview mirror.

Chaisley relaxed and leaned back against the seat. “I’m a bit tired, so I’ll think I’ll try to rest now.”

Rick didn’t respond—he put the car in gear and steered them back onto the road.

It was going to be a long ride in the silence.

Austria—Wednesday, April 6, 1938

The crowd burst to applause after her opening piece—her latest composition. Warmth uncurled in her chest. It didn’t matter how long she played and performed, the anticipation of premiering a new piece ate at her until she finished playing it for the first time.

The cheers erased weeks of fretting. Their adoration washed over her, and she reveled in it.

But only for a moment. Then she stood, gripping the rounded edge of the piano, and took a deep bow.

It was impossible to take in all of the cheering.

The roar of the crowd with thousands of voices on different pitches and high, shrill whistles.

Thank You, Lord, for a successful evening.

Yes, this crowd loved her talent. Praised it to the skies. But it meant nothing without the One who gave it to her. He deserved the praise. That reminder helped to keep her pride in check.

Most of the time.

The thought cooled some of her excitement. She needed to focus. Get back on task. She held up a hand, and the crowd began to quiet as she took her seat on the bench once again.

“Enchant us again, Fr?ulein!”

The crowd chuckled at the exuberant audience member. But his outburst felt like ice-cold water had been dumped on her.

Fr?ulein.

Astonishing how one innocuous word could change everything in an instant. Reminding her of where they were.

The Anschluss that had taken place.

Were some of these people calling her name now the same ones who cheered for Hitler when he invaded a few weeks ago? She suppressed a shiver.

It was pointless to let her mind wander to anything but music right now.

When it was silent in the great hall, she lifted her hands and went into her tribute to Franz Liszt with Mephisto Waltz No.

1 . Liszt was touted—especially in Germany and Austria—as the greatest pianist of all time.

His exceptional skill, both as a pianist and composer, was unmatched.

Which was why she had chosen several of his pieces to wow this Austrian crowd.

The piece was vibrant and fast, which always thrilled her audiences. As soon as she played the last note, she didn’t wait for applause but went directly into Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 .

The showy piece was instantly recognized, and applause rounded the concert hall like waves building on a shore.

The audience quieted again as her fingers and arms fully engaged with the keys on the Steinway concert grand.

The instrument resonated and vibrated beneath her hands. The music filled her ears, but didn’t excite her like usual. It felt more like a battle. The notes seemed to burst from her fingertips, almost like bullets. But what was she trying to destroy? To kill?

She closed her eyes. She needed to sync her body with the music again.

Not one part of this piece could sound discordant to the audience.

But the thought of Mary Beth and Geraldine, their situation, and the lives of countless others hung heavy on her.

How did one digest the kind of evil that desired to snuff out beautiful lives like theirs?

Like hers?

Tears burned the edges of her eyes, and she swallowed hard. That was it. What she couldn’t shake.