Melanie blinked. Chaisley trembled, bright red spots blooming in her pale cheeks. All signs of calm and equanimity had disappeared. Her friend’s shoulders curved inward, almost as if she were collapsing in on herself.
Oh.
Oh.
Melanie’s cheeks warmed as blood flooded her face, the heat of it almost unbearable. If anyone was blind in this friendship, it was she. How had she not guessed Chaisley’s true motive?
She closed her eyes. Because she had been so tied up in her own emotions, her need to do somethingmore, that she missed how afraid Chaisley was.
She sat down in her chair again and reached for her friend’s hand, prying her fingers apart.
Chaisley carried herself with such poise and grace it was easy to forget that she was ever afraid.
She smoothed her friend’s hand with her fingers. “Oh, Chais. I’m so sorry.”
A choked sob rattled Chaisley’s chest. “It could have been me, Mel. If my family stayed in Germany all those years ago ... I could be one of the pour souls caught in this evil.” She put her other hand on top of Melanie’s, clinging to it. “How can I hide what God has given to me ... what has turned out to be a gift? I can’t stay in the shadows any longer. Not while I have a voice and can do something about this.”
Their clasped hands blurred as unshed tears filled Melanie’s eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me how you were feeling?”
Chaisley turned toward the sound of her voice. “Why haven’t you told me about your anxiety?”
She should have known she couldn’t keep anything from her all-too-perceptive friend. “We’re a pair, aren’t we?” Melanie huffed out a laugh and let go of Chaisley’s hand to blow her nose.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“And you didn’t answer mine.”
Chaisley tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair.
“What are we going to do?”
Chaisley’s jaw set. “I’m going to keep my ears open, make contacts, and pray that God shows us. Besides that, I’m not really sure. But one thing seems certain. On Sunday, I’m going to play the piano in front of Adolf Hitler.”
Vienna, Austria—Sunday, April 10, 1938
The Golden Hall of the Musikverein
Chaisley tuned out everything around her until the silence engulfed her. Not a sound existed in the great hall until she allowed a long exhale to escape her lips. Her fingers found the keys, and she began Chopin’sFantasie Impromptuto warm up her fingers.
Memories washed over her. Grandmother sitting at her side while she practiced this, her favorite piece. Grandmother’s pride when, at the age of twelve, Chaisley mastered the difficult rhythmof four against three in a matter of days. As soon as Chaisley heard the beautiful song, she knew she had to learn it and begged her teacher for a braille copy. She’d had the entire score memorized in the span of an afternoon.
Another memory surfaced as her fingers flew over the keys—Grandmother asking her, just before Chaisley headed out on her first worldwide tour, to playFantasiefor her one last time on the piano her parents gave her. The smells and sounds of her childhood home flooded her senses...
Cinnamon and orange from her favorite scones baking in the kitchen. The clinking of the china tea service on the rolling tray as Cook brought it in, Grandmother’s tender voice:“No matter what, my dear, always use your gift for the Lord. He gave it to you.”
Chaisley could almost feel the strong yet weathered hand on her face as the memory rushed over her.
“And maybe, one day, when there is no more threat of another Great War, you may return to my homeland, and play for the people there ... I know England has been your home, but you are also a child of Holland. Promise me you will go and play for my people someday...”
Chaisley shook her head as her fingers found the last E flat. She was fulfilling that promise on this trip. But was it enough?
The braille letter she’d received from Dr. G had been eye-opening. Challenging. The man was using the fortune he’d inherited from his family to help people escape the Nazis. He expressed time and again that he didn’t want her to worry. What he was doing was what God had called him to do, and he encouraged her to pray about how God could use her on this tour.
She’d smiled at that. How like the Lord to send her the encouragement she needed, to fan the spark He’d already lit into a flame. Now it was just a matter ofwhat.
Chaisley rubbed her fingers on the keys for a moment, thesmooth ivory comforting and familiar.Show me, Lord.Everything around her stilled as she waited.
Then one idea.
