[Eleanor]: 668.Amelia.Chapter XVIII

XVIII.

The performance went well that evening. Many members of the audience recognized Amelia and she watched as they whispered to each other and pointed. But she vowed she would not let it bother her and smiled bravely and played with added feeling. Their last song of the evening was the lament she had sung at her grandmother’s and Lorenzo’s funerals, to be followed by a more lively encore. Jason had worked out an arrangement that allowed Amelia to solo with delicate accompaniments by the rest, and in the final verse Frederick’s lower harmony dropped out, leaving her higher voice alone to soar over the instruments, and then they, too, stopped playing, leaving her all alone on the last line. 

The effect on the audience was electric. For several seconds the hall was completely silent except for the sound of the rain against the windows. Then one man stood up, a farmer Amelia remembered from the weekly market, raised his tankard and thundered, “Bravo! Bravo, Amelia!” It was the signal for the rest of the crowd to start clapping and shouting and whistling. A bubble burst in Amelia’s chest and warmth spread throughout her body. She looked at Jason and beamed. He smiled at her, then nodded to the rest of the band, and they started playing the rollicking number they had ready to finish. 

Afterward, townsfolk pushed their way to the stage to hug Amelia or to shake her hand. Some expressed condolences on the passing of her father. Young people she had grown up with shyly approached and complimented her. She stood with her hand in Frederick’s and greeted everyone with a smile and thanked them for coming. Finally the crowd dispersed and she was able to wrap her harp in its soft cloth and slide it into the silk bag.

Jason gave her a hug. “You were outstanding tonight, Amelia. I admit,” he confessed, “I’ve been concerned about you ever since you found out this was our next stop. But you were amazing. I have every confidence in you as a musician and a performer. Please, tell me you’ll stay with us forever.”

“Forever is a long time, Jason,” she answered with a smile. “But thank you. Your offer means more to me than any gold you could pay me. Although gold would be nice, too.”

Victor and Conrad both hugged her as well, slapped Frederick on the back, and then left to find their own entertainment. Alone with Frederick, Amelia said, “I think it’s stopped raining. Come. I want to show you something.” They put their heavy cloaks back on and went outside.

The rain had indeed stopped and a full moon was riding high in the sky, illuminating the village. Amelia described everything to Frederick as they walked. They followed the winding streets up and then down until they gave way to open meadow. A well-worn path led through the winter stubble to the shore of the crystal-clear lake, aglow in the light of the moon. A family of swans rode the calm waters, their feathers gleaming in the moonlight. 

“There is a mountain,” Amelia told Frederick, “and a waterfall. During the day it is lit up with rainbows, but right now it’s a cascade of silver. When I was little, I thought faeries lived in it ands were what gave it its colours. I thought the swan that swim on the lake were magical and if you caught one, it would grant you a wish.”

“What would you have wished for?” asked the blind harpist as he traced the edge of her jaw with his long fingers.

“I don’t remember,” she admitted. “I was a different person then.”

“Come, my love,” he said. “It’s late and you have a difficult task ahead of you tomorrow. We should go back.”

Reluctantly, Amelia retraced their steps and led Frederick back to the inn. He was right. Tomorrow would be difficult.

Amelia’s sleep was fitful that night. She dreamt that she and Frederick were in the cemetery, and as she traced the letters on her father’s tombstone, it shimmered in the moonlight and suddenly he was in front of her, not as she had last seen him, but as she remembered him from her childhood. He held out his arms to her and she ran to him as she had when she was little. He enfolded her in his embrace and then picked her up and lifted her off the ground.

“Put me down!” she cried. She reached back to Frederick and grabbed his hand. As her father let go, they were lifted into the sky, carried aloft like feathers on a breeze, and down below lay the village, nestled beside the lake in the moonlight. She spread her arms and saw that they were great white wings, and that she and Frederick were now silver swans winging across the sky. She banked and flew back toward the lake, he following, as she headed toward the waterfall and landed on the ledge of rock over which it spilled into the lake below. 

Behind the falls was an opening just large enough for them to crawl into on hands and knees, and as they sat, huddled together against the chill, Amelia saw rainbow sparkles flitting about. The sun must be rising, she thought to herself, but then Frederick reached his palm toward the cascading sheet in front of them and said, “Look!” One of the rainbows separated itself from the water and landed in it, then another, and another, until Frederick’s hand and wrist and arm were covered by sparkling creatures who flitted about and would not stay still long enough for Amelia to see them. She put her hand out and one of them landed in her palm, allowing her to bring it close to her face. It was a faerie, as she had always thought. Tiny, perfect, with crystalline wings that broke up the light into shards of brilliant colours.

The faeries left Frederick and landed on her head and shoulders, creating a sparkling cowl, weighing nothing, and he looked at her with his blue, blue eyes and said, “You are so beautiful, Amelia.” She grasped his hand and pulled and they were tumbling over the rock ledge, falling with the waterfall, surrounded by the sparkling, living rainbows. As they struck the surface of the lake, Amelia jumped and was suddenly awake, Frederick breathing rhythmically next to her. She watched his face in the light of the moon as it came through the bedroom window, following the hollows of his cheeks, the shape of his jaw, and the line of his brow. She brushed a lock of hair off his forehead where it lay on his closed eyes. Then, impulsively, she kissed his eyelids and said a silent prayer to the faeries of her dream before laying her head back on the pillow.

Once more she was in the cemetery, standing alone in front of her father’s grave. It was raining, as it had been earlier in the day, and the rainwater mixed with the salt tears running down her cheeks and fell on the tombstone. When she traced the letters on the marble, she was filled with a great emptiness, and fell to her knees, resting her forehead against the cold, wet stone. As she wept, she heard someone speak her name and she turned.

Standing behind her in a nimbus of light were two figures, male and female, the rain falling around them but not touching them. Amelia rose and approached. “Nana,” she whispered. “Lorenzo.” The two glowing forms enveloped her in their arms and she felt her emptiness filled, her sorrow eased, her uncertainties dissolved in the falling rain. 

“My darling Amelia,” said her grandmother. “You have found your true calling. I am so proud of you.” Lorenzo smiled and winked, and then the two phantoms vanished.

“Wait,” cried Amelia. But they were gone and the sun was shining, the sky was blue, and she realized she was awake and it was morning. She rose, trying not to rouse her lover who still slept with a half smile on his lips.

She washed and dressed, and tried to tame her shoulder-length auburn hair. Eventually she gave up and tied her green silk scarf around her head, then went back to the bed and kissed Frederick awake. He returned the kiss and asked, “Is it time?” 

She sighed. “Yes. Do you want to come with me?”

“If you want me to, I want to.” She leaned her head against his chest and felt his heart beating. “I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you, too,” he said and held her close.

“Well, if you’re coming, you’d better get dressed. I don’t think you should meet my mother naked, although it might give her a bit of a thrill,” laughed Amelia. “Her new husband might not approve, though.”

Frederick quickly dressed and the two went downstairs where Mistress George was serving porridge to the other guests. She looked at the couple disapprovingly, but laid out two more bowls and spoons, and then filled their mugs with steaming coffee. They ate quickly and wrapped themselves in their cloaks before stepping outside.