Page 18 of A Song in the Dark

Her life was an anathema to people like Hitler.

Invaluable. Unworthy.

She picked up the tempo of the piece feeding the anger now simmering in her soul.

This was just a performance. Just a performance. Just a performance. She could play the part. Do her work and bring awe to the crowd.

She focused her mind on the piece at hand, though she could probably play it in her sleep.

If she was going to do anything to help during these times, she needed to be the famous concert pianist who astounded her audiences everywhere she went. Perhaps, behind the scenes, she could save lives. Was that what God was calling her to do?

Yes. She could use her tour, her fame, whatever it took ...

She allowed the smile that filled her heart to fill her face.

From one flamboyant piece to another, she played and poured her heart out onto the keyboard.

Heat built within her, and she felt the rush of it in her face. Every time the audience rose to their feet or took their seats once again, the stage around her brimmed with the scents of their colognes and perfumes.

When she started a new piece, the hush that fell over the great auditorium echoed upon itself, making the room feel bigger and bigger... like a giant bubble growing until it was about to burst.

Her fingers rippled over the keys once more. Then stilled.

Breathe, Chaisley. The thought flipped a switch in her lungs and she inhaled a full breath as she finished the piece.

The final note rang through the auditorium, as if suspended in the air between her and the crowd.

“Zugabe!”

The cry pierced the air. The crowd’s rowdy stomps and applause became a tidal wave of sound rushing over her.

She stood, held the edge of the piano, and bowed. She took two steps to the right, bowed again, and turned around. Melanie was at her elbow immediately and offered her a glass of water as they walked offstage.

The roar of the crowd’s applause, their cries for an encore, continued for two minutes and then shifted into a roar of conversation, footsteps, and rustling of clothing.

“Whatever spurred you on this evening, my friend, keep at it,” Melanie gushed. “I mean ... wow. You had everyone entranced.”

But Chaisley shook her head. The applause was wonderful, but she couldn’t escape her thoughts about the Nazis’ goals. “I played for all of those who are helpless against what is coming. I’m still not sure how God is calling me to help, but—”

Melanie’s insistent poking in the side stopped her short.

“I’m sure Almighty God will use your talent for His purpose.”

Rick. How much had he overheard?

“The fact that you are a willing vessel is huge, Miss Frappier.”

In the overflow of her adrenaline as she’d walked offstage, she hadn’t paid attention to the sounds of anyone other than Mel.

A costly mistake. While Rick’s words sounded sincere, she hadn’t been tuned in to listen.

Her guard had been down. Had he overheard everything she said?

Was he now saying only what he thought she wanted to hear?

With her faculties now tuned in to his presence, she swallowed and took several sips of water.

Might as well push to see where the man really stood.

These were not times of easy trust and she couldn’t bear the thought that she would put anyone in danger.

“How do you see this playing out for the Lord’s will, Mr. Zimmerman? ”

He didn’t answer right away, and the sounds in the auditorium and from backstage kept her from hearing his breathing or any other slight movement.

Melanie squeezed her elbow. Her friend seemed strong and unafraid. Had she and Rick spoken?

“I am in awe of your talent, Miss Frappier. I’ve never heard a pianist with such skill, such passion.”

There was no guile, no dishonesty, no empty flattery.

She took another sip and raised her eyebrows in his direction.

“While you didn’t answer the question, I’m going to pose a new one.

Are you a believer, Rick?” She hesitated using his given name, but perhaps God had placed him in her path for a reason. If so, she wanted to know that now .

“I am.” His response was short and to the point. No hesitation in his voice. Either he was telling the truth or he was a masterful liar, honing his skills since he now knew her listening skills were sharper than most.

Melanie patted her arm and moved closer. “We would love to hear more about that this evening, Mr. Zimmerman. That is, if you are willing?”

“I am.” Again, nothing but warmth and honesty.

“Good. Because I really should get Miss Frappier a few moments alone so she can mentally prepare for the rest of the concert.” Melanie tugged at her arm.

“Of course. I’ll wait right here. Let me know if there is anything I can do to be of assistance.”

“Thank you.” Chaisley followed Melanie’s guiding arm to the dressing room she’d warmed up in earlier that evening. Once the door was clicked shut behind her, she let out a long breath. “Thank goodness he’s a man of faith. At least he claims to be.”

“What did you hear in his voice?” Melanie eased her down into a chair and pulled another close and sat so that their knees were touching.

“Can we trust him? I want to trust him from what I see, but you are a much better judge of character.” The huff she released held exasperation.

“How sad that we live in a time where we don’t know who we can trust! What has this world come to?”

Chaisley reached forward and patted her friend’s knee.

“I was just thinking the same thing. But you are right to keep your guard up. What I hear from him is trustworthy. Right now, at least. The more time we spend with him, the more we can ascertain.” She took several more sips of cool water and a long, deep breath.

“Grandmother had someone watching him at her house. He was very helpful and easygoing with everyone there. But he did leave several times, and he sent a telegram.”

“Does she know where it went?”

“London. But I think it’s wise to reserve judgment.” Chaisley pursed her lips and pinched the bridge of her nose. “The fact that he jumped into a conversation about God is encouraging.”

Melanie bumped knees with her. “We certainly know that Hitler doesn’t believe in an Almighty God or His will. Nor would the man’s followers.”

“I’ve already confronted Rick about aligning with the Nazis. He told me he did not.”

“You believe him?”

Chaisley chewed on that for a moment. “I do. But until we know for certain that he can be trusted, we should continue to speak in French when we need to speak privately.”

“Agreed.” Melanie shifted. “What about the code you were working on for us to communicate with your grandmother and Dr. Grafton? I haven’t wanted to pester you about it, but I have this feeling—”

“Me too.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “No one else is around, correct?”

“No one.”

“I’ve finished it. I’ll teach you over the next few days and somehow get word to Grandmother.

I don’t like the way it feels here. It’s not just oppression.

.. I can’t put my finger on it, but I don’t like it.

” She shivered and wiped her hands on her gown.

The long silk number was a deep shade of navy that brought out her eyes.

At least, that’s what her seamstress told her.

Right now, it seemed too thin to provide her warmth.

“Me neither.” Melanie’s trembling vibrated into Chaisley’s knees. “Why does it feel cold in here all of a sudden?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t like it.” She rubbed her arms. If only she could play the piano in the long silk gloves that matched the dress.

Melanie always did a fabulous job describing every piece of clothing to her so that Chaisley could picture it in her mind.

Over the years, colors lost their brilliance in her imagination, but she looked forward to heaven when she could see them all again in full glory.

“It’s time to get back out there. But first, you need to know that there is a newspaper man who wishes to speak with you afterward. I didn’t tell him that you don’t do interviews, I told him I would need to ask you first.” She scooted her chair away. “So do you want me to give our standard answer?”

She opened her mouth to say yes, but paused. Why did she feel hesitant? Quieting her heart and mind, Chaisley closed her eyes. Are You trying to get my attention, Lord? An interview was a daunting prospect. Uncertainty gnawed at her. Was it time to reveal her blindness to the world?

Where did that thought come from?

Her mind turned to Mary Beth and other children like her. How encouraged would they be to hear she had a disability, but it didn’t stop her from dreaming. From living life.

Still, was that the right message to send when it was their physical struggles that made them targets of such venom?

Perhaps telling the world about her lack of sight was exactly what she needed to do to alert people that she was willing to use her fame to help them. Could she get that across? It certainly would bring more attention to her.

Another serious thing to consider. If she went public, it might gain the attention of the Nazis. Not the good kind. Wouldn’t that lead to all sorts of scrutiny and dangers for her and Melanie?

What is Your will, Lord?

“My peace I give unto you ... Be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.” The verses from John cut through her, the peace Jesus promised right on its heels.

God wasn’t ashamed of her blindness. Her family had never been ashamed of it. And she hadn’t either. It was time to tell the truth. This was not the time for her to cower in fear. “I’ll speak with him.”

“All right.” Melanie’s shock was obvious in her voice. “I should be used to you doing things outside the norm. You’re terrific at it.” She tugged at Chaisley’s hand. “Ready to head back out there and impress the audience some more? You still have several of your new creations to share.”

Chaisley laughed. “Yes, I’m ready.” She stood up and followed Melanie’s lead out the door. As soon as they climbed the stairs to the backstage area, the thick smell of the velvet curtains assaulted her senses, and she sneezed. “I think these curtains are due for a cleaning.”

A handkerchief was placed in her hand. “Here, use this.”

After blowing her nose and brushing stray tendrils of hair that tickled her face, she straightened her shoulders. “All right. Ready.”

Melanie guided her to the edge of the curtain and shifted her aim just a bit to the right. “Twenty-two steps to the left edge of the piano.”

Chaisley gave a brief nod and lifted her shoulders back. Stepping out from behind the curtains, the warmth from the lights hit her face and the audience erupted into applause. Lots of foot stomping and whistling accompanied it.

Reaching the edge of the piano, she gripped it for a moment and did her pretend scan of the auditorium by taking her head from the left to the right and even up to the ceiling. The whistles and applause rang in her ears, but the adoration didn’t overwhelm her like earlier.

The peace she’d felt in her dressing room still blanketed her. The first half of her performance had been for these people. But this half ... she swallowed the tears burning her throat.

This performance would be for the Lord alone.

She bowed and slid her right leg under her long evening gown to find the bench with her knee. She waved and nodded to the crowd as they continued to cheer. Then turned her body to the left and lowered herself to the leather bench.

As always, the crowd’s applause let her take her time getting settled. She skimmed her fingers over the keys without pressing any of them down.

The crowd hushed, and she counted to ten. Anticipation built in the auditorium.

Then she dove into the rest of her concert.

While she played, gratitude to the Lord flowed through her, infusing her performance with a rightness she hadn’t felt in ages.

She lost herself in the music, in the love of God that He had showered upon her. It was as if she’d stepped into a beautiful painting, where the colors were vibrant and bright and sunshine was being poured out on her.

When the concert was all done, shouts of Zugabe! Zugabe! echoed throughout the concert hall. With a wide smile, Chaisley bowed and headed backstage. Melanie was at her elbow before she reached the velvet curtains and escorted her back toward her dressing room.

“No matter how many times they shout for an encore or just one more, you leave them wanting more.”

Chaisley stilled. Who was this stranger whose voice greeted her?

Her senses went on high alert. “It’s a little something I learned touring in America.”

Melanie’s grip tightened on Chaisley’s arm. A sure sign that this was someone unexpected but quite important.

“It is ingenious.” The man’s smooth words didn’t stop the chill that started at the base of her neck.

This man wasn’t to be trusted. “Thank you.”

“I am here to inform you, Miss Frappier, that the Führer himself will be in attendance for your concert in four days’ time.

I’m sure you wouldn’t mind adding a few of his favorites to your repertoire since you will have someone so prestigious in your audience?

I would be happy to provide you an extensive list.”

Slick words with no heart or feeling behind them. They were empty. Shallow. Dull.

“I will see what I can do.” She kept a neutral expression. No sense trying to even pretend she wanted to look at the man. She stepped forward to her dressing room, praying Melanie would help her since she’d lost count of steps with the interruption. Something she never did.

Melanie had hold of her arm in an instant. “Excuse us, sir. Miss Frappier is exhausted after her performance, and I must insist that she rest.” Her tone was firm, yet courteous.

“Yes, yes, of course.”

Her friend led her into the room and closed the door. Chaisley held her arms out in front of her to find the chair she had vacated just an hour or so prior. She leaned on it. Her breaths came in great gasps.

Melanie’s breathing didn’t sound much better. “I don’t think my heart has beat that fast in quite some time.” Her voice betrayed a hint of fear.

Neither of them spoke for several moments as the weight of what they just learned hit full force.

Chaisley collapsed in the chair, her legs barely able to hold her up. She placed her elbows on her knees. “So. It would seem that the man who wants to control the world will be coming to one of my concerts.”