—Sergei Rachmaninoff
Chapter 24Orion
End Of December
“Wait, stop.”
Ezra Wolfe leaned over the sheet of music where Rachmaninoff Étude-Tableaux Op. 39 No. 5 in E-flat Minor sat. He tapped the dense collection of notes in the second half of the second measure.
“This is where our friend Sergei locks in the harmony. A static harmony. The opening chords must have weight but not force or volume. No banging. It’s heaviness. It’s grief. The anger comes later, as predicted by the harmony. Do you see?”
I nodded. “I think so.”
Not for the first time over these last six weeks, gratitude washed over me that Ezra had not only abandoned his idea that I compose a piece for the spring concert, but that he was working to teach me the language of music without relying on notation.
“And what do we call this cluster of notes?”
“Chordal ostinato,” I said.
“Brilliant. This is where the harmony will emerge from the gloomy textures. Again.”
I started the piece over for what felt like the thousandth time since that early November night when Harper had unlocked a door inside me and let in the light. A fresh start and fresh air, like taking a deep breath after being submerged down in the depths.
Ezra liked the Rachmaninoff because it started off melancholy, pitched itself into a rage, and then grew subdued again, all in five minutes of insanely complicated finger work. He was still on a mission to draw raw emotion out of me, but the joke was on him—I was too damn happy.
I played the Étude, concentrating on the intricacy of the piece, my fingers flying up and down the keys, and ignoring the cramp in the tendon of my right thumb. I waited for Ezra to stop and yell at me about my arm weight or complain about myharmonic tension. I didn’t mind his cranky and unpredictable temper. Somewhere along these last weeks, he’d stopped being Wolfe or even Professor Wolfe and become Ezra. More of a friend and mentor than anything else. Someone who was unlocking a bunch of doors all at once.
A few more than I’m ready to walk through.
I finished the piece, the last, sad note hanging in the air. Ezra had his eyes closed, right elbow resting on his left arm that was across his chest. His black-nailed fingers tapped his lips, deep in thought.
I knew better than to say anything.
Finally, he opened his eyes. “I just wanted to hear the whole thing becausefuck me sideways, you’re a goddamn genius. Even at only half the emotional punch, you’re…” He shook his head. “Anyway, we should wrap for the day. You must be eager to spend time with your girl before the holiday break puts an ocean between you.”
“Yes and no,” I said, bending my aching fingers. “I’m going to ask Harper to come with me.”
Ezra’s brows vanished into his mop of dusty blond hair. “Really? Taking her to meet the parents. Must be serious.”
“Of course it’s serious,” I said, unable to keep the smile off my lips. “I love her.”
“Mm,” Ezra mused.
“Something on your mind?”
“She has cracked open the lockbox of your heart, yet you sit clear across from each other in the auditorium.” He rubbed his jaw. “Sounds about right.”
“Wrong.I’m keeping us secret for her protection,” I said darkly. “There are arseholes about, one depraved bastard in particular who’s fucked with her before. I won’t risk it again. God knows what he’ll do.”
“I know the type,” Ezra said. “Evildoers are rare, but a few walk among us.” He gathered the sheet music and tapped it on the piano. “Well, I am very much in favor of this union, and even more so of a dose of Harper honesty injected right into the jugular of the Mercer family household.”
“That’s what I love about you,” I said wryly. “You’re so shy.”
“So I’ve been told,” Ezra said, returning my smile. “And here’s more of my reserved, retiring advice.Tell your parents about your dyslexia.Because I can’t do a bloody thing about accommodations for you without their say-so.”
“I will,” I said.
He gave me a sharp look.
