RUSH (City Lights, #3)(101)

Sabina gathered us together in the Munich Central Station while we waited for our train, and she, along with our conductor, told us that Gian was out for the rest of the tour. Sabina picked me out of the crowd and said, “Charlotte. You will be our soloist for the Concerto, No. 5.”

The orchestra, which had become like a second family to me, filled the station with cheers and applause, while I sat on the floor, stunned. Joy warred with a deep, deep sorrow that my moment had come and neither my parents nor Noah would see it.

Our train arrived in Salzburg that morning. Rain splattered the narrow, cobbled streets of the tiny town. Annalie and I perused the shops, many of which sold some sort of Mozart-related kitsch, to remind us this was where legend had been born. And every store carried the Mozartkugel chocolate confection in their little red and white tins.

We ate lunch at a charming little bistro under the shadow of Hohensalzburg Fortress that sat above the city. The sky looked leaden and a chill wind whistled through the narrow streets, making me shiver.

“Nervous?” Annalie asked me as we walked back to the hotel.

“No,” I said. “I just miss him.”

Annalie was no Melanie, but she was pretty darn close. She slung her arm around my shoulders and didn’t try to cheer me up with empty words. She was just there for me, and I added her to the list of people in my life I wanted to know forever.

*

That night I wore a black velvet dress with spaghetti straps to allow for arm movement (but a modest neckline), and that had sheer black tulle from the knees down. A soloist must stand out from the crowd, and so I wore glittering drop earrings, and pulled my hair into a twist to keep it away from my violin.

“Very beautiful,” Annalie told me as I studied myself in the mirror. “Shall I take picture? For your Noah?”

I mustered a smile. She didn’t know he was blind because it had never occurred to me to tell her. Because his blindness is only one small part of the man I love. And I realized then, Noah might seeking that for himself, to define himself apart from his disability. And if he could do that, then maybe it wouldn’t feel like a disability at all.

Oh, my love, I thought. I understand. I think I finally do…

*

Our caravan of rented buses pulled along the streets adjacent to the Mozarteum Concert Hall at dusk. We filed in under a dark gray sky that showed no signs of rain, only threatened. But the hall brightened my mood and lit my nerves up for the first time since Sabina told me I’d be the soloist.

The Mozarteum was small but elegant, with dozens of chandeliers hanging from gilded ceilings. A massive pipe organ made up the rear wall and we took our places before it. Or, at least my fellow musicians did. I was now to wait off stage until our conductor, Herr Isaak Steckert, introduced me to the audience. I stared at the playbill with my name on it and tears threatened again. I’ll have to send this to my parents. And Melanie. They’ll be so proud.

The concert hall filled up with semi-formally dressed patrons. I peeked from behind the curtain to inspect the faces in the audience as I had every night. I looked for the tall handsome man who wore sunglasses indoors and who carried a white stick to find his seat, but he was never there. And he wasn’t there that night either.

The house lights dimmed, stragglers took their seats, and then Herr Steckert took the podium to great applause. Sabina appeared behind me.

“They don’t know me,” I whispered.

She put her hands on my shoulders. “Pain. Hope. Fire. Love. You play with these tonight, Charlotte Conroy, and they will remember you forever.”

Herr Steckert gestured to me and I strode onto the stage to polite, reserved applause. Isaak kissed my cheek and whispered, “Break your leg.”

I stifled a laughed and felt a bit better. I took my place, standing before the strings, just as that violinist I had seen on TV when I was a child had done. I was fulfilling my dream and no one I loved was there to see it.

I decided, as the first strains began behind and around me, that I’d play for all of them, no matter where they were in the world or if they’d left it. I’d let my love for everyone in my life and everyone I’d lost fill me until I had no choice but to channel it from my violin.

My time came, Herr Steckert met my eye, and then I played.

I don’t recall any one individual moment. It was all a fantastic dream, an out-of-body experience that I felt as pure emotion. I played Mozart’s music in the city in which he was born with an instrument that itself carried time and history in its grain.

And when it was over, the applause was not reserved or polite, but thunderous, and came after a short silence in which I could almost hear every audience member catch their breath.

I lowered my violin and let the sound wash over me, saw the beaming faces in the audience smile up at me, and I was astounded and humbled to have created this reaction.

An usher approached with an arm full of red roses. He reached up to hand them to me, and the crowd exploded again. I turned to Sabina, thinking they must be from her, or Isaak, or even the rest of the string section. But the usher pointed toward the audience and then I knew.

He’s here.

The applause was still going as I scanned the crowd feverishly, searching for the one face I wanted to see more than any other… And then my heart dropped to my knees. I found him.

He stood toward the very back of the house, his white stick in one hand, his other laid over his heart as if it pained him. He wasn’t wearing his glasses and even from the distance between us, I could see the small, aching smile that graced his lips.