Page 6 of A Song in the Dark

Don’t you worry about a thing, I have made sure that everything is set up exactly as you requested here at my home and all of my staff know not to move a piece of furniture or anything else. Not even an inch.

Chaisley lifted her chin and listened as the wind rattled the windows in the manor that had been home her entire life.

Grandmother’s opening chitchat was exactly the perspective she needed.

This European tour had been in the works for several years.

Chaisley’s schedule was always booked out at least two years in advance.

But this time was different. This was a special request from her grandmother to give the people of Europe something of beauty to look forward to.

When Grandmother was involved, everything became larger than life. And how could Chaisley deny any request of hers? Not when Grandmother had done so much for her—raised her, given her every opportunity to develop the natural talents God had given her.

“Remember these things when you’re tempted to get anxious about this tour,” she muttered, her fingers moving back to the letter. “You are making your grandmother happy. And proud.”

Reading the letter again, her fingers traced the words hurt and suffering .

Just a few weeks ago, Dr. G had told her and Melanie of a story he’d read in The Guardian about Jews who were prisoners in concentration camps.

What was the name... Her brow furrowed.

Dachau. That was it. And numerous stories of Romanian Jews suffering persecution, driven from their homes without another place to go.

If the stories were true, there were many people who needed help. But how could she do anything? She was just a pianist.

The word hope rushed into her mind on a simple melody of four notes. One for each letter, it played over and over.

Perhaps that was what God wanted from her with this tour. People needed hope. Joy. What better way to lift the spirits of those who were weary than a night of music?

As her fingers finished reading the letter, she leaned back in the chair.

Life hadn’t been the same in England after Grandmother went back to Holland.

To the land of her heritage and childhood.

The Great War had devastated so much, it wasn’t unusual for people to long for their roots and home.

For a simpler time before the world had erupted in war.

Since Chaisley spent so much time on the road traveling, she encouraged her grandmother to follow her heart. As hard as that was to say aloud, it had been the right thing.

Celestia Frappier had a new mission in life after that.

When she’d gone back to Holland and her ancestral home, the memories she shared with Chaisley multiplied.

She found journals and clothing and all sorts of items that fortified the history that she’d clung to all her life.

The rejuvenation, healing, and wonder had leapt off the pages of each of her grandmother’s letters.

That wonder seemed to carry Grandmother in her new life in Holland.

The woman was tireless. Each letter was filled with news about helping one charitable group or another.

The memories of neighbor helping neighbor spurred her on to continue spreading and sharing her heritage.

The tone was much like this letter, cheery and happy.

But there was always a tinge of sadness. Of worry.

Most people didn’t see the men, women, and children that poured into Holland from Germany and Austria as anything other than a nuisance.

Refugees to be shuffled off to someone else.

But not Grandmother. She had always seen those less fortunate than she and was willing to use the wealth and resources God had given her to help.

A tap at the door made Chaisley turn in her chair. “Come in.”

Dr. Grafton’s cologne. What a surprise.

“I was expecting Melanie”—she stood and held her arms open—“but you’re always welcome too.”

His steps drew near and then he hugged her and tapped her nose.

“It always amazes me how you distinguish who is in front of you without seeing our faces or hearing our voices.” He squeezed her arms. “Don’t worry, Mel is coming, because I’d like to discuss a few things with you both while they are on my mind. ”

“Oh?” She reclaimed her seat. “That sounds serious,” she teased.

He cleared his throat. “It is. But only because I want to take precautions.”

Her smile slipped from her face. “Precautions?” She pleated her skirt in her fingers. Was the state of Europe so bad they needed such things?

“For your safety.” His voice shifted slightly. He must have turned away. “Here’s Melanie. Would you close the door?”

“Of course.” The door clicked and Melanie’s lighter footsteps approached.

A chair scratched across the floor, then another.

Chaisley wasn’t ready for anything heavy yet. “Melanie”—she held out the other letter—“would you read this for me first, please?”

“Of course.” Her friend took the letter. The paper crinkled. Mel cleared her throat. “It’s in German, so I need to translate as I go. Forgive me if I’m a bit slow.”

“Dear Miss Frappier,

“My name is Mary, I am eleven years old, and I live in Berlin. Several years ago, when I was only five years of age, my mother brought me to one of your concerts in Paris.

“It was the best night of my life. That night you opened up my heart and mind to music. It spoke to my very soul.

“You see, I was a difficult child. I constantly threw tantrums, struggling to figure out the world around me. I should probably tell you: I am blind.”

Chaisley gasped and put a hand to her throat. Never had she received a fan letter from a blind child!

Melanie continued reading.

“The world calmed down as you played. That was the first time that had ever happened.

“I told my mother I wanted to be a pianist that night.

“After that, Mother arranged for me to take lessons until things became more difficult for us here.

They took her away for a while, and my piano teacher hid me.

When she returned, she was broken and not the same.

They performed some kind of operation on her because she is also blind. Our house was taken away.

“Ever since, we have gone from home to home to stay with friends. My mother says we must hide so they don’t take me away as well. She is afraid. My piano teacher tries to see me when he can, but I can tell by the sound of his voice that he is also afraid now. His visits have become quite rare.

“I do my best to give my mother hope by playing for her, but all she does is cry.

“I hear you are coming back here to tour, and my piano teacher is trying to get tickets for Mother and me. I think if she could just hear you again, she would once again have hope and remember what it did for me as a little girl.

“I am leaving you the address of my teacher in case you would like to write him or the two of us a note of encouragement.

“Please keep playing. I wanted you to know how much you inspired me and changed my life. We all need hope—and you gave that to me.

“I pray I get to hear you play again soon.

“Thank you for opening up the world of music to me.

Mary Beth Klein”

“Mary Beth”—Melanie whispered the name again—“just like my mother.” Her voice cracked.

Chaisley swallowed back the emotions clogging her throat.

What kind of operation would they have done on the mother just because she was blind?

It didn’t make sense. Still, what a brave young girl.

In the midst of difficult times, she was encouraging her mother.

“Mel, I need you to make sure we send tickets to that address. Multiple concerts if you can, so they can surely come to at least one.”

“Of course.” Her friend’s response was strong and determined. “Just look at how you’ve affected this one life, Chaisley.”

She shifted her face toward the window. “What is happening in Berlin? And why would they take Mary Beth’s mother away and perform surgery?”

Dr. G cleared his throat and by the sound of his chair, he must have shuffled in his seat.

Since he didn’t answer right away, that meant it was something he didn’t want to share with her.

He cleared his throat again. “I have heard rumors that they have sterilized people whom they believe are imperfect. To protect the Aryan race.”

“ What ?” While the news in Europe depressed her most of the time, Chaisley thought she had at least stayed informed. Apparently that wasn’t true.

“This isn’t common knowledge, Chais. That is why I wanted to speak to each of you today.”

The weight of words from a young girl about her mother’s plight penetrated deep into Chaisley’s heart. Little wonder her grandmother had become so passionate about helping everyone she could. “Has Grandmother seen some of this in her work?”

“Yes.” The answer was quick. “Chaisley ... we’ve never wanted you to feel less of a person because of the effects of the accident.

But there are many people being treated as less, whether blind, deaf, missing a limb, or simply of a different race.

They’re regarded by some as not even human—not deserving of life.

Your grandmother asked me to keep all this to myself until she found the right way to speak with you about it. ”

“But why?” She swallowed hard. “We’ve never kept secrets before.

And no one has ever treated me as lesser.

Gracious, the majority of the world has no inkling that I’ve lost my sight.

” Heat raced up her neck into her cheeks, but she resisted the urge to duck her head.

What did she have to be embarrassed about? It wasn’t as if she chose to be blind.

But Dr. Grafton’s words gnawed at her. Had she been wrong to refrain from telling people she was blind? She hadn’t wanted anyone to feel sorry for her.