Page 28 of A Song in the Dark

“... he continually yelled at me to stop banging on the keys, but it was much too fun. So I kept at it.” The storyteller had the men in the crowd rolling with laughter.

It wasn’t that funny.

In fact, it wasn’t humorous at all. Granted, she might have missed the funny part of the story, but she couldn’t bring herself to offer up a fake laugh.

A tug at her right elbow. “Ignore our gentlemen , Fr?ulein.” A smooth and silky alto voice accompanied another tug. “Please, join the ladies over here for a more cultured discussion. The men have obviously enjoyed too much brandy already.”

Forcing a cordial smile, Chaisley wished she didn’t even have to be in this room at all. How had she gotten into this?

“I’m right beside you.” Mel tapped her left arm. “She appears to be headed about twelve steps to your right.”

Chaisley moved in that direction with her friend close beside her.

The women were in the middle of a lively chat about a new dress shop which seemed to be everyone’s favorite.

“... they expected me to wait three months for the new gown.”

“I was told four, so three isn’t so bad. It’s my own fault for not getting an appointment sooner.”

“But everything I’ve seen come out of their shop has been divine. I don’t mind waiting.” The woman gasped. “Fr?ulein, that gown is stunning. Who is your designer?”

A slight nudge to her arm. Mel’s signal that she needed to answer.

“I have one in London and one in Paris.” Chaisley swallowed. At the moment she couldn’t even remember who had designed the gown she was wearing.

“Well, that shade of mauve is absolutely lovely on you.” Another voice.

“Thank you.” Her head began to pound. Too many new voices, and an overwhelming bouquet of perfumes. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe I need some water.” She lifted her hankie once more.

She stepped back and then moved to her left with Melanie beside her.

“There’s a large column over here that we can duck behind for a moment.

Rick is still stuck with those men. Poor guy.

” Melanie led her and then pulled her to a stop.

“I am so sorry. I don’t know how to help you.

.. I wish I knew a way out. It’s terrible that they thrust this upon you without letting you know ahead of time.

” Her whispered words held a hint of panic.

“There’s no way out, I’m afraid. I must continue on the best I can. But I won’t be able to play if this headache intensifies.” Chaisley squeezed her friend’s hand.

“Here”—Mel shifted her until her back was to the massive column—“lean up against the column here and close your eyes. I’ve got a headache powder in my handbag. I’ll get you a glass of water—or something to drink it down with.”

“Don’t leave me for long.”

“I won’t. There’s no one headed toward you right now. I’ll be quick.”

Chaisley listened as Mel’s steps moved away. She took a deep breath and prayed for the headache to be lifted so she could perform. But conversations swirled around her. For most people, it would simply be noise to be ignored. But every sound seemed magnified, especially with her head pounding.

“Word has come that several of the professors at the university will be arrested and taken to a work camp this week.” The man speaking sounded... pleased about it.

She wasn’t sure how far away the conversation was taking place, but Chaisley did her best to tune in to this specific one and block the others out so she could hear.

“It’s about time. Our country needs to be cleansed of all the rabble and dissenters.” This speaker’s condescension was palpable.

She pictured a man with a smug face and a mustache like Hitler.

“I, for one, will be glad to see them fill the camps. If it comes to executions similar to the Night of Long Knives, I’m all for it.”

“Hear, hear!”

The voices moved away as others agreed until she couldn’t hear them.

Chaisley put a hand to her stomach. How could these men speak of eliminating people as if it were as simple and insignificant as scraping something off their shoes?

“What’s wrong?” Mel gripped her shoulder and placed a glass in her hand.

“I’ve got to get in touch with Dr. G right away.” She kept her voice as low as she could and relayed what she’d overheard.

If her friend’s intake of breath was any indication, Mel was just as horrified as she—but could they alert people in time?

----------------------

During the concert an hour later, her focus was still on what she’d overheard.

It was a good thing her fingers, arms, and mind had muscle memory.

The times when she tried to think of something else or keep her mind only on what she was playing, her thoughts went to the future, the Jews, and the young blind people she’d met.

Which caused her emotions to overflow into the music, and the audience’s applause was filled with even more exuberance.

At least she didn’t have to see all the men who were surely there in their Nazi uniforms.

She ended a piece by Wagner, and her fingers took her straight into her grandmother’s favorite piece. It hadn’t originally been on her program for this evening, but she needed the furious three against four to help her through. Her beloved Fantasie Impromptu refreshed her spirit.

From there, she dove into her finale, which was a trio of pieces that she’d written especially for this tour.

The heartbreaking emotion of the first piece in adagio usually had the audience enraptured as she built into the majestic and broad harmonies of the second.

By the time she reached the third piece, many people stood to applaud and then were caused to hold their breath as the vivace section took over.

Her fingers flew over the keys of the piano in a rapid succession of arpeggios and flourishes as the song built to the grand conclusion of harmonics moving from an array of dissonance and resolving from minor to major.

At the final notes, her chest heaved as if she’d run ten miles. She left her hands pressed down on the keys with her foot down on the sustain pedal. The music continued to echo throughout the room, and the applause began.

The noise of chairs moving from their position told her that the audience was coming to its feet.

As the roar of the crowd grew, she lifted her hands and stood from the bench. Taking the edge of the piano in her left hand, she bowed deep at her waist and held it.

Once. Twice. A third time.

Amid the cries of Encore ! and Bis !, she turned on her heel and felt Melanie’s hand on her elbow after a mere three steps.

Harsh footsteps marched behind her and then halted as a gruff voice resonated above the crowd’s dying applause. In staccato German, the man cried, “ Heil Hitler!”

“ Heil Hitler!” rang out from the audience.

The man went on. “An amazing performance tonight from the greatest pianist in the world in honor of our leader.”

As the applause swelled once again, Chaisley cringed. She did not play in honor of that deplorable man.

“Don’t listen to him. It’s more of the Nazi lies.” Melanie’s whisper helped. A little.

“But I don’t want people to think I played for that man.”

“Hush.” Melanie squeezed her elbow. “One of the men in uniform is headed this way.”

“Fr?ulein, Fr?ulein Frappier.” Heels clicked together.

Chaisley lifted her chin and waited.

“The Führer sends his greetings.”

She nodded.

“I will be reporting back about what a nice concert it was. The simplicity was greatly appreciated.”

Nice? Simplicity? She opened her mouth but a squeeze at her elbow held her in check. “It was kind of you to attend.” She forced the words out. The man was the equivalent of a heckler.

“While I prefer the concerts we host in the homeland with our superior musicians”—she could picture him looking down his nose at her—“it was a nice distraction from a long day’s work.”

“I will have to hear these superior musicians when I’m touring in Germany.” Graciousness wasn’t her forte, especially after an insult like that.

He cleared his throat. “Please, don’t take offense, Fr?ulein. It was a lovely concert, and I’ve heard that the Führer enjoyed your piano-playing.”

Her piano-playing. Wow.

She bit her tongue to keep from spewing anything back at him.

“It’s a shame you lost your sight. You could have been a star.”

Melanie squeezed a warning on her arm, but it wasn’t necessary. Peace such as she had seldom felt overflowed her. It didn’t matter what he thought. His words were meant to insult her and rile her up.

Funny. He’d almost succeeded. Thank goodness the Holy Spirit had intervened on her behalf.

All the anger and pride melted away, and she gave him a genuine smile. “It was lovely to perform in this magnificent hall and share a bit of music with the audience.” She curtsied. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to thank our host and hostess.”

The man mumbled something harsh, but she ignored him and walked in the direction Melanie steered.

“They told me they would be in a private room in the palace, but I’m not certain where.” Her friend spoke in a low tone.

Conversations swirled around Chaisley as she and Mel walked away. Then the voice from earlier pierced through the cacophony. The same man who spoke of the professors being arrested. The words she’d overheard earlier barreled to the forefront of her mind and made her stomach clench.

“Where are we? I’m disoriented.” She had to stop allowing her emotions to get to her.

She felt as though she’d fallen off the piano bench and into oblivion.

If she wanted to help, she’d have to be stronger than this.

To hold up against conversations she heard from Nazi allies, to deal with naysayers like the man at the end of her concert.

“We’re heading for the private ladies’ room to freshen up. It was next to the room we waited in before the concert.”

“Thank you.” Now that she could imagine it in her mind, she didn’t feel as if the world were off kilter.