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Authors: Anisa Claire West

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BOOK: Eternal Melody
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Witnessing the sadness that veiled Rebecca’s innocent blue eyes, he embraced her once more, not wanting to get too close so as not to be able to resist her.  “I’m very much wishing right now that I didn’t have to go.  If I hadn’t met you, this trip to
Munich
would have seemed like a dream come true.”

Rebecca’s expression softened.  “It’s still a dream come true.  Don’t fret over leaving me.  I’ll be here when you return.” She reassured sincerely.

“But we’ve only just met.  If we spend a month apart…” Luke stopped himself, unwilling to utter the disheartening words.

Tonight was a test for him to see whether he was driven by
lust or
conscience.  It would be so easy to make love to Rebecca and leave his stamp branded on her, to claim her as his territory like a male animal in the wilderness.  But he was not a male animal, he was a man.  And he refused to let his baser instincts prevail when he had nothing
concrete
to offer her.  If his performance in
Munich
garnered critical acclaim, then his status in society could rapidly augment.  But for the present, he was a lowly
,
undiscovered musician.  Interpreting classical music
in Vienna
was like designing fashion in Paris or
baking pastries in Bavaria.  Everyone want
ed
a
chunk
of the success, but there
was
only a finite, and very competitive, amount to go around.

“Luke, you look as though you’re in the midst of a reverie.” Rebecca observed, as Luke returned his attention to the lovely woman standing before him.

She still had made no effort to cover herself, with her stockings hanging over the bedpost and
her dress
practically twisted into knots
.
He really did have to
leave quickly or else his instincts would surmount his morals.

“I guess I must be getting very tired.  Be well, Rebecca, and I will see you in a month.”

She held her breath as she looked at him, waiting for him to say something more consequential than the banal phrases he had just mumbled. 
If he wanted her to wait for him, then it would have been customary to make that request of her.

Squelching a burning
impulse
to strip bare in front of him and openly seduce him into fulfilling the desire he had stimulated, she bid him a stony goodnight to match his.  “Very well, Luke.  I wish you the best
in your travels and in your performance.  See you in a month.”

She gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. 
Unbeknownst to Rebecca, the seemingly innocent contact enraged his unsatisfied yearnings.

U
nable to control himself, he gathered her into his arms for a parting embrace that would
irrevocably
leave his personal mark on her.  Luke would not succumb to his overwhelming need to make love to her, but he did kiss her with every
bit of passion contained within his body. 
She responded stirringly, weaving her hands into his dark hair and moving her lips confidently over his. 
Boldly, she tasted the masculine grotto of his mouth, assimilating his unique flavor and scent so that she would carry it with her long after he left.

With a movement that nearly wrenched the last
tenuous
shred of his
self-
control, Luke broke off the kiss and rasped, “Good night, Rebecca.”

He immediately turned around, reached for the doorknob and banged his arm carelessly against the wall, cursing under his breath.  In the darkness, he found the doorknob and made a conspicuously clumsy departure, walking
into
the door and whacking his other arm into the wall once he reached the banister.

Had Rebecca not felt so crestfallen over his departure, she would have exploded into peals of laughter.
  Aside from the ungainliness of his exit, Luke’s fumbles confirmed the
force
of his passion.  Rebecca did not doubt that Luke had wanted her fiercely in those last moments, but he was trying to be a gentleman, and for that she respected him.  But it also made her desire him even more.

Wiggling out of her dress, Rebecca clamored under the pillow for her nightgown and briskly stepped into it. 
She lay down on top of the covers, staring listlessly
out
the window and wishing that she had some kind of sleep potion. 
Her eyes remained stubbornly open while her mind replayed the bittersweet experience she had just had. 
It was all novel to her, these irrepressible feelings of longing. 
Never before had she felt so terribly restless and discontent.

Lunging up from the bed, she went to her desk in search of the book of poetry Luke had lent her.  Feeling slightly foolish, she held the pages up to her nose, hoping to
recapture some of his masculine scent.  She opened the book to the first page and began to patiently read every verse of every poem contained therein.

A
misty
pink sunrise
was sweeping
through the window when she finally set the book down on her night table and sank into sleep.

*****

Standing before Alice Denmaker, Rebecca felt as though she were filing a criminal report with the authorities.  The woman looked
sternly
from Rebecca to the clock on the wall that indicated the nine o’clock hour.

“Why are you not at the mansion?  You should be mopping floors right about now in my estimation.” Mrs. Denmaker gave her a disapproving scowl.

Rebecca struggled to find the words to explain her embarrassing predicament.  From the looks of Mrs. Denmaker, she would not react very sympathetically.  In the most
controlled and projected voice
Rebecca could conjure, she
explained
the sordid encounter.


I am not at the mansion this morning because
Mr. Brecht attacked me yesterday in the master bedroom.  I was changing the sheets as instructed when he accosted me from behind the doo
r and forcibly pulled me into a lewd
embrace. 
He groped me in unmentionable places and tried to frighten me by claiming that no one would hear my screams.  Needless to say, I fought him
to break free and, when I did, I immediately
ran off
the premises.  Under these extreme circumstances, I hope you will understand why I was unable to complete my work yesterday and why I cannot return to that residence.” After she had spilled the whole
demeaning story, Rebecca exhaled shakily, cringing
at the recollection of
the man’s fatty hands
sliding over her
body.

To Rebecca’s dismay, Mrs. Denmaker stared at her uncaringly and
exclaimed, “I’m afraid I don’t see a problem!”

“Excuse me?” Rebecca screeched, dumbfounded.

“Listen, young lady.  When I hired you, I told you that this is a cash operation.  That means that from time to time you will encounter a randy fellow like Gerhard Brecht
who will try to bribe you into becoming his mistress.  Unless you were raised in a cave, I don’t see why this would surprise you.” The older woman finished her outrageous speech with a
detached
shrug.

Rebecca’s jaw dropped
,
and for several moments she was speechless. 
When her tongue was again functional she defended herself fiercely.  “With all due respect, Mrs. Denmaker, I may not be the most sophisticated person in the world, but I know
what is proper.  The audacity of this man staggers me, but what is even more
appalling
is your blasé attitude!  As my employer,
a married woman no less,
I thought you would defend me.  This
is
a housecleaning service and not a brothel, correct?”

Mrs. Denmaker sighed impatiently and began distractedly shuffling some papers on her desk.  “Of course it is a housecleaning service.  But you are not exactly in a position to refuse an affluent man’s offer.  You should be grateful.  He would have paid you very handsomely, I am sure.”

“Grateful?!” Rebecca sputtered, now seething with
red
rage.

“Yes
,
grateful

Instead, you
childishly
stormed out of the home of one of my most important and loyal clients.”

“I seriously doubt that Gerhard Brecht knows the meaning of loyalty.” Rebecca interrupted furiously.

“It is of no significance what the man’s character flaws are.  He is a well paying client, and you may have ruined my chances of his ever using this service again!  I’m afraid I have no choice but to fire you.”

Mrs. Denmaker did not dare to look Rebecca in the eyes as she muttered those dismissive words.  Instead, she feigned interest in a document on the corner of her desk
, poring over it as though it contained all the secrets of the universe
.

“Why that’s unlawful…that’s unconscionable!” Rebecca burst out, then wondered why she
should
argue to keep a job she detested so much.  If she continued to work for the “cleaning service,” Mrs. Denmaker would likely send h
er to some other lecher’s abode.  Then she would be
proposition
ed
by some other cad like Gerhard Brecht

It seemed
counterintuitive
to grovel for a job that was so inherently debasing, but Rebecca reminded herself how much she needed the money.  Rent was due on the fifteenth of August, and she had not yet earned a cent.

Shoving aside her worries, Rebecca resolved to simply demand the three days’ worth of earnings for which she had worked.  Somehow, she would figure out a way to earn money that would not compromise her principles.

“Fine, Mrs. Denmaker, I am fired.  Please just give me the three days’ salary for the work I’ve completed.” Rebecca held out her hand, unwilling to be trifled with any further.

Begrudgingly, Mrs. Denmaker grabbed some bills from a wad in the desk drawer and practically threw them in Rebecca’s face.  Without another word to the horrid woman, Rebecca
exited, lifting her chin so high that she nearly dislocated her jaw.

*****

Rebecca sat in the rehearsal hall, nervously biting her fingernails.  It was a habit she had acquired as a little girl, shortly after losing her parents.  Only in severely stressful situations did Rebecca revert to the nasty practice.  With both Ryan and Luke on a train
to
Munich
and Gregory still lurking
around Vienna
with an empty wallet, Rebecca felt
very anxious indeed

The unexpected events of the morning had compounded all of Rebecca’s other worries until she felt as though she were going to have a breakdown.

But, she remained stoic
and
, realizing that she was slouching,
sat more upright in her seat
.  Her grandmother had always told her that correct posture was as important to a singer as it was to a dancer. 
Smiling at
her grandmother’s words, she admired
the string instrumentalists on stage and how their fingers
worked
effortlessly.  With a twinge of longing, she recalled Luke sitting on that stage.  Before she could dive into a sentimental abyss, Mr. Graysen called everyone’s attention as he always did.  Rebecca gave her index fingernail one final chew and tore her hand from her mouth, placing it at her side.  If necessary, she would sit on her hands so that her colleagues would not discover what an unbecoming habit she suffered from.

“Good afternoon, my friends. 
As you know, Mr. Springwell and Mr. Meadow departed for
Munich
this morning, and I am sure we will hear a good report from them upon their return in September.  You may also notice that another member of o
ur orchestra is missing today.”

Rebecca craned her neck to scan the stage for an empty chair.  She did not know most of the musicians by name and had no idea who was absent.

“It seems our lead soprano has been stricken with an acute case of laryngitis.”
Christopher Graysen explained, as Rebecca had to consciously stop herself from
leaping joyfully into the air
at the news.

It was not all that surprising, considering the audible hoarseness of Greta’s voice at last afternoon’s rehearsal.  With Greta absent, Rebecca was next in line for the plum role of Pamina.  She sucked in an anticipatory breath as the conductor went on.

“Greta came to see me this morning and scribbled on some paper how she has suffered from laryngitis before and believes she’ll be well enough to sing in a matter of days. 
Just this morning, I had received word from
Mr. Shundry
in
Munich
that, in addition to the violinists, they were also in search of a female soloist.  It seemed logical to ask Greta if she would like to go, and she readily agreed.  Therefore, she will be joining our violinists to comprise a trio of guest performers!
” Mr. Graysen spoke with pride and evident excitement just as Rebecca descended into a state of gloom.

BOOK: Eternal Melody
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