The thought cooled some of her excitement. She needed to focus. Get back on task. She held up a hand, and the crowd began to quiet as she took her seat on the bench once again.
“Enchant us again, Fräulein!”
The crowd chuckled at the exuberant audience member. But his outburst felt like ice-cold water had been dumped on her.
Fräulein.
Astonishing how one innocuous word could change everything in an instant. Reminding her of where they were.
TheAnschlussthat had taken place.
Were some of these people calling her name now the same ones who cheered for Hitler when he invaded a few weeks ago? She suppressed a shiver.
It was pointless to let her mind wander to anything but music right now.
When it was silent in the great hall, she lifted her hands and went into her tribute to Franz Liszt withMephisto Waltz No. 1. Liszt was touted—especially in Germany and Austria—as the greatest pianist of all time. His exceptional skill, both as a pianist and composer, was unmatched. Which was why she had chosen several of his pieces to wow this Austrian crowd.
The piece was vibrant and fast, which always thrilled her audiences. As soon as she played the last note, she didn’t wait for applause but went directly into Liszt’sHungarian Rhapsody No. 2.
The showy piece was instantly recognized, and applause rounded the concert hall like waves building on a shore.
The audience quieted again as her fingers and arms fully engaged with the keys on the Steinway concert grand.
The instrument resonated and vibrated beneath her hands. The music filled her ears, but didn’t excite her like usual. It felt more like a battle. The notes seemed to burst from her fingertips, almost like bullets. But what was she trying to destroy? To kill?
She closed her eyes. She needed to sync her body with the music again. Not one part of this piece could sound discordant to the audience. But the thought of Mary Beth and Geraldine, their situation, and the lives of countless others hung heavy on her. How did one digest the kind of evil that desired to snuff out beautiful lives like theirs?
Like hers?
Tears burned the edges of her eyes, and she swallowed hard. That was it. What she couldn’t shake.
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.
