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During the concert an hour later, her focus was still on what she’d overheard. It was a good thing her fingers, arms, and mind had muscle memory. The times when she tried to think of something else or keep her mind only on what she was playing, her thoughts went to the future, the Jews, and the young blind people she’d met. Which caused her emotions to overflow into the music, and the audience’s applause was filled with even more exuberance.
At least she didn’t have to see all the men who were surely there in their Nazi uniforms.
She ended a piece by Wagner, and her fingers took her straight into her grandmother’s favorite piece. It hadn’t originally been on her program for this evening, but she needed the furious three against four to help her through. Her belovedFantasie Imprompturefreshed her spirit.
From there, she dove into her finale, which was a trio of pieces that she’d written especially for this tour. The heartbreaking emotion of the first piece inadagiousually had the audience enraptured as she built into the majestic and broad harmonies of the second. By the time she reached the third piece, many people stood to applaud and then were caused to hold their breath as thevivacesection took over. Her fingers flew over the keys of the piano in a rapid succession of arpeggios and flourishes as the song built to the grand conclusion of harmonics moving from an array of dissonance and resolving from minor to major.
At the final notes, her chest heaved as if she’d run ten miles. She left her hands pressed down on the keys with her foot downon the sustain pedal. The music continued to echo throughout the room, and the applause began.
The noise of chairs moving from their position told her that the audience was coming to its feet.
As the roar of the crowd grew, she lifted her hands and stood from the bench. Taking the edge of the piano in her left hand, she bowed deep at her waist and held it.
Once. Twice. A third time.
Amid the cries ofEncore! andBis!, she turned on her heel and felt Melanie’s hand on her elbow after a mere three steps.
Harsh footsteps marched behind her and then halted as a gruff voice resonated above the crowd’s dying applause. In staccato German, the man cried, “HeilHitler!”
“HeilHitler!” rang out from the audience.
The man went on. “An amazing performance tonight from the greatest pianist in the world in honor of our leader.”
As the applause swelled once again, Chaisley cringed. She didnotplay in honor of that deplorable man.
“Don’t listen to him. It’s more of the Nazi lies.” Melanie’s whisper helped. A little.
“But I don’t want people to think I played for that man.”
“Hush.” Melanie squeezed her elbow. “One of the men in uniform is headed this way.”
“Fräulein, Fräulein Frappier.” Heels clicked together.
Chaisley lifted her chin and waited.
“The Führer sends his greetings.”
She nodded.
“I will be reporting back about what a nice concert it was. The simplicity was greatly appreciated.”
Nice? Simplicity? She opened her mouth but a squeeze at her elbow held her in check. “It was kind of you to attend.” She forced the words out. The man was the equivalent of a heckler.
“While I prefer the concerts we host in the homeland with oursuperior musicians”—she could picture him looking down his nose at her—“it was a nice distraction from a long day’s work.”
“I will have to hear thesesuperiormusicians when I’m touring in Germany.” Graciousness wasn’t her forte, especially after an insult like that.
He cleared his throat. “Please, don’t take offense, Fräulein. It was a lovely concert, and I’ve heard that the Führer enjoyed your piano-playing.”
Her piano-playing. Wow.
She bit her tongue to keep from spewing anything back at him.
“It’s a shame you lost your sight. You could have been a star.”
Melanie squeezed a warning on her arm, but it wasn’t necessary. Peace such as she had seldom felt overflowed her. It didn’t matter what he thought. His words were meant to insult her and rile her up.
