Page 7 of A Song in the Dark

“I can tell by the look on your face that you are second-guessing your decisions to be independent and keep this to yourself. You’ve done nothing wrong.

” Melanie’s fervent words touched Chaisley.

“Not a thing. You haven’t lied to anyone.

You’ve lived your life and performed and blessed people the world over.

Just look at what you’ve done for this little girl. ”

“Mel’s correct. It’s the Nazis who are doing the wrong. They are perpetrating this lie—spreading propaganda far and wide.” Dr. G’s tone held the tint of anger. And it took a great deal to anger her guardian and dear friend.

“But is there a way I can help? Something more than just playing the piano? Something to give people joy and hope?”

Dr. Grafton sighed. “Let’s take this one step at a time—”

Chaisley nodded. “You’re right. I need to write her back. Encourage her. And her mother as well.” Her thoughts swirled.

“That’s a wonderful idea.” He cleared his throat again, a sign he wanted to change the subject. “But there’s a great deal more that we need to discuss. I’ve had some ideas about the upcoming tour.”

“Are you going to come along?” Melanie chimed in.

“No, I have quite a bit of traveling to do myself to check on colleagues in a few clinics and other friends, but this is about the amount of ... disharmony I keep hearing about. It has led to violence and crime.”

Another bit of news to Chaisley. How much had they kept from her? Or had she simply kept her head buried in the sand?

Dr. G continued, his tone sober. “In order to guard our correspondence, in case you need to convey something of importance to me or vice versa, I think we should go back to writing in the original form of braille, or perhaps something else.”

Well. That wasn’t what she was expecting. Were there thieves out to steal the mail? “You mean with the dashes and dots?”

“Yes.” Papers rustled. “I took the liberty of making a sheet of the alphabet, numbers, and punctuation for each of you as a refresher. Memorize it and then burn them.”

“That’s a little extreme.” The catch of apprehension in Melanie’s voice set Chaisley’s nerves on edge.

Dr. G’s voice grew more firm. “Finding an original form of braille isn’t easy. There are very few even familiar with it outside of perhaps some braille teachers who are fascinated with its history and the War of the Dots. So this should be a safe form of communication.”

Oh dear. All the lessons she’d pushed him into teaching her over the years.

He’d endured her fascination with braille and her insatiable hunger to understand everything behind the invention that allowed her to read books and music.

“Why are these precautions necessary?” She raised her eyebrows. “Because of Hitler and his Nazis?”

His long breath told her he was choosing his words carefully.

Which meant she’d struck the truth. He was worried about Hitler.

“It’s my job as your guardian to ensure your safety.

No matter how far-fetched the rumors might be”—there was a catch in his voice, then that pause that proved he was coddling her—“I still want to be cautious.”

Rather than call him out, she’d play along. “If these precautions are necessary, then perhaps we should memorize the Boston Line Type and New York Point versions as well. Just in case.”

“Just in case ... what?” Melanie’s tone held fear.

Chaisley opened her mouth to say she was teasing, but Dr. Grafton’s words halted her. “That’s an even better idea. We can alternate each sentence. I will bring them to you tomorrow.” A pencil scratched on paper—he was writing a note.

So this was more serious than she thought. “I believe I still have them in a book here.”

“If you do, you should burn them as well after you memorize them. Just in case.” His voice was clipped.

“What is it you’re not saying?” The higher pitch of Melanie’s voice clued in Chaisley about how much anxiety this was causing her.

She could relate. Dr. G never did anything without a purpose.

If he thought they needed to guard their communications while on tour, there was good reason.

She reached for Melanie’s hand and turned her face toward the scent of lavender and lemon.

“Mel, I believe our dear friend here is simply thinking about worst-case scenarios and making sure that we are able to safely communicate in case things escalate.”

“Escalate?” Melanie’s voice squeaked. “Why?”

“Because I’m blind,” Chaisley stated as calmly as she could, even as the depth of the reality in Europe sank in. “Which means I could be seen as less than worthy. Unfit to live. That’s what you mean, isn’t it, Dr. G?”

Berlin, Germany—Saturday, February 19, 1938

For the first time in a long time, he had hope.

That his country could make it through this depression stronger, larger, and wealthier than ever.

That with a powerful leader at the helm, his homeland would not be humiliated again.

The only way to erase any residual humiliation was to get rid of those who couldn’t pull their weight. Those who were less than perfect. Those who couldn’t make decisions for themselves. Those who weren’t of the superior race.

In the past, weak leaders had exacerbated the mess that his country had inherited. But no longer.

If people would simply take the time to listen to the Führer’s heartfelt words, they’d understand and agree with what was best for the world.

And they would reach the world. He’d seen the plans.

Hitler would start taking Europe little by little, and then his power would spread around the globe.

It wasn’t a matter of if . It was a matter of when .

His own family didn’t understand. How could they?

His mother had left eons ago, and his siblings were scattered all over Europe.

They’d had no correspondence. Not since he’d returned home to Germany for his father’s funeral had he understood.

Five years ago, his eyes were finally opened.

And now he would do anything— anything —to see things set to rights.

Hope was a wonderful thing.