When he begins to play, goose bumps slide down her arms. She feels the notes at the back of her neck, just as she did that first day she walked into Merle Holland’s house. She knows the melodies by heart. Rosie reaches over and takes her hand.
Aidan launches into a difficult section she remembers well. Grace can pick out the repetitions of the first theme, the introductions of others. What strikes her now is how tumultuous the piece is, how often that tumult is followed by moments of quiet. It’s the combination that creates the beauty.
“Your face,” Rosie whispers.
Yes, her face must show her rapture, but the soloist, Grace reminds herself, is not hers. He belongs to the orchestra, to the audience, and to the elegance of the concert hall. This is his turret now, his sitting room, his library.
This is his life, moving from city to city, entering concert halls, and paralyzing audiences.
There are multiple sections to the concerto. She listens and sometimes holds her breath. She listens and closes her eyes. She listens and knows that the end is coming and that she is again powerless to stop it.
The audience is on its feet, clapping. Rosie and Grace join them. Aidan Berne takes three, four curtain calls, sweeping his arm to include the orchestra. When he leaves the stage the final time, the lights come up.
“You’re crying,” Rosie says.
“It was beautiful.”
“It was amazing.”
It’s a few minutes before Rosie is able to lead Grace out of the concert hall. When they have moved away from the din of the crowd, she turns to Grace. “That’s him, isn’t it?”
Grace embraces Rosie.
“He’s magnificent,” Rosie whispers in her ear. “In every way possible. You lucky girl. You lucky, lucky girl.” She draws away from Grace. “Come on.”
Rosie takes Grace to the back of the concert hall, where already there’s a crowd. Men and women have programs and pens in their hands. Grace will have one more glimpse of the man who was once her lover.
While they wait, the cold penetrates Grace’s shoes and blows through her sweater. She shivers, a combination of the temperature and nerves. She can’t manage the business of smoking, so she hugs her sweater close.
The murmuring grows louder, and Grace watches as the stage door opens. A man steps out, not Aidan, but he beckons to someone inside. Aidan emerges and stands on the stoop, an iron railing running around it and down a short set of concrete steps. The murmuring breaks up into individual pleas to sign programs. Grace knows the moment Aidan sees her because his face blanches, and then his color is restored. He descends the stairs and moves toward her, gently parting the crowd, and Grace knows, in the time it takes for him to reach her, that her life is about to change.
She can see it all. The astonished but happy gaze. The kiss, the night spent together. The promises and plans they’ll make. He’ll learn to fly, he’ll say, so that he can see her more often. Grace will travel to attend some of his concerts, she’ll say, and she’ll wear a cloth coat. Aidan will come to her house, and her children will perhaps remember the man who made music and played with them. Aidan will buy a piano and install it at Grace’s so that he can practice when he comes home and sleeps with her. She’ll have a life she could never have imagined, a life different from anyone else’s. They will be lovers whenever and wherever they can. They will never be separated, no matter how great the distance between them.
He reaches her and takes hold of her wrist. “Hello,” he says.
Grace meets his eyes. “Aidan, this is my friend, Rosie.”
“Hello, Rosie,” he says with a smile.
Rosie grins. “Your concert was wonderful.”
Aidan, not letting go of Grace, invites the two of them to dinner. Before Grace can explain that they’ve already eaten, Rosie begs off. “I’ve had a headache since this afternoon. Blissfully, it went away during your concert, but now it’s back. I think I’d better go lie down.”
Grace turns to Rosie. “I might be late,” she whispers.
“I certainly hope so.”
It occurs to Grace, as she watches Rosie walk away, that she could be wrong, that what she imagined moments ago might not come to pass. She and Aidan will have dinner and talk, and he will see her back to the hotel and promise to let her know when he is next invited to play in Halifax, which will never happen.
But the grip on her wrist is fierce.