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He watched Emily’s expression as the piece progressed. More instruments joined the cacophony and she sucked in her plump bottom lip and bit it as her delicate brows drew together.
He fisted his hands, reminding himself of his promise not to seduce her.
Scratching sounds came from the speakers. She frowned and opened her eyes. “What is that?”
He chuckled. “What does it sound like?”
“Someone scratching a drum?”
He nodded.
“Really?”
“Yup.”
She closed her eyes again.
The hint of a melody sounded from the violins and flutes and he smiled. Then sighed as it disappeared once more into the faint discordant sound.
Every once in a while, Emily’s mouth would open and she’d look at him with those big brown eyes of hers, but the music would change and she’d close them again.
Perhaps that’s what frustrated him about the piece. So many false starts. So muchalmost, so muchpotential,and then it would fade away into nothingness. It was a tease. A cacophony of percussion and faint discordant instrumental sounds. There was nothing to hum, nothing to sink into and sigh about.
As the final notes drifted off into the sky, she opened her eyes. “Well, you have the last notes, don’t you? The last word, so to speak?”
He stared at her for a long moment. “Why do you say that?”
“You’re not concertmaster?”
He lifted his chin. “I am.”
“That wasn’t a cello playing the last note.”
He shrugged. “There’s little comfort in having the last word.”
She giggled. “I doubt it.”
He rolled his eyes. “Okay, it’s a little comforting.”
She stood and walked to the window overlooking the canal, standing in silence for several minutes. “The piece is interesting.” She turned. “You despise it.”
“I do.”
“Why?”
He shared his earlier thoughts with her and she nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face. “I understand. And I don’t disagree, but...” She squinted. “Maybe that’s the point.”
“What?”
“As I sat and listened to it, I saw wonderful colors. I felt fear and love, and anxiety and peace.” She chewed her lip and turned to the window. “Like life. There is no melody with life. It’s just... noise.” She sighed and turned back around. “And yes, I don’t like it much either. At the same time, there’s something compelling about the sounds.”
He flashed a wry smile. “You won’t call it music either?”
She laughed. “I don’t think I honestly could. But it isn’t an unpleasant sound.”
“Hmm.”
She walked across the room to where his violin sat on its stand. “It’s almost an insult to play this kind of piece on such a beautiful instrument.” She sighed and reached out to gently caress the scroll with the tips of her fingers. “What else are you playing in the program?”
