Mozart's Sister (43 page)

Franz pulled me into his arms until my cheek rested against the
rough wool of his waistcoat. "I am not brave enough for you, Nan.
I should resign my teaching position, resign my position on the
archbishop's war council, and run away with you to a far-off land
where no one knows us, where we can begin again."

I closed my eyes, letting his words ring with possibilities. But
then I thought of Wolfie-truly a man of extraordinary talentwho'd been unable to find positions in countless cities, even with
the unrelenting force of our father working to make it happen.

Although I loved Franz deeply, he was a quiet man. Unassuming. Unremarkable to all who did not love him. It was not prudent
to discard any position and venture out without capital-especially
at his age of fifty. And without the archbishop's blessing, there would
be no monetary wedding gift, which was key to helping any couple
start their new life together.

Papa always said, "Marriage is irresponsible without an adequate
financial basis."

Unfortunately, in spite of our desire to be otherwise, neither
Franz nor myself were irresponsible sorts. Our lives hinged on duty,
loyalty, and doing what was expected of us. Holding on to the status
in quo.

Only Wolfie had managed to break free of this burden to act as
was expected, and to fear disturbing the peace over any desire to
obtain something newno matter how enticing. Although Wolfie
frustrated me, sometimes I admired his courage to just be.

I held Franz tighter and he put a hand on the back of my head,
holding me close. We stood like that for a long time. There were no
further words required.

Or available.

My dear friend, Katherl, stopped by one day soon after Franz
and I abandoned our hope to marry. I was glad for her presence. I
hadn't been able to openly display my grief and anger with Papa,
and a stew of emotions welled within me to the point of overflow
With Katherl, I would find blessed release.

I was mistaken.

After I'd aired my feelings, Katherl took a sip of coffee and set
her cup against the saucer. She put a hand on her burgeoning midsection, very much with child-her third child in four years. "You
must move on, Nan. It does no good to think about could-have-
beens."

I was momentarily stunned into silence. "But you managed to
marry the man you loved. Surely, you understand how I also
want-"

She shrugged. "Even if a woman gets what she thinks she wants,
it doesn't mean she wants what she gets."

I felt my eyebrows rise. "You're not happy with Heinz?"

Another shrug. "Is anyone happy with anyone?" She pressed a
finger against her plate, getting the last of the cake crumbs. "Sometimes I envy you, Nan."

"Envy? Me?"

"You get to stay in a familiar home that offers comfort, your thoughts are your own, and your life is not disrupted by the constant
needs of children-and a husband."

"I thought you loved Heinz."

"And I love my children. But that doesn't mean I'm happy." She
sighed deeply "I look back at the days before my marriage when I
had time to go shooting and to the theater. When I could spend an
entire afternoon walking the Gardens, having a picnic, being jolly
with friends. Now ..."

I was shocked. I had no idea how to respond.

Katherl tried to get comfortable on the chair that was now too
small. "You still have that life, Nan. Instead of being sad or angry
about what you think you lost by not being able to be with Franz,
I suggest you count your blessings."

I looked back at my bedchamber one final time. I grieved not
being able to fit more of my clothes into my satchel, but for that I
would need a trunk. And a trunk of clothing was an impossible
encumbrance when one was running away. Perhaps after Franz and
I were settled somewhere I would send Papa a letter asking himbegging him to have my things sent to me.

Whether he would comply... ?

It was not the time to think of petty items like dresses or favorite
music. I would have to live with the clothes on my back and the
music in my head. Yet as long as I was side by side with the man I
loved, nothing else would matter.

When I'd gotten up that morning, if someone had told me by
midafternoon I would be leaving forever, I would have laughed
aloud. If such a thing had been suggested while I was serving Katherl
her third cup of coffee, I would have said, "Don't be absurd." Such
a decision was unfathomable even in the half hour after our visit
ended.

But in the half hour after that ... as Katherl's ridiculous statement that she envied me sank in ...

How dare she negate what she had accomplished by marrying
the man she loved? How dare she toss aside that privilege and honor as if it were an annoyance to her day? How dare she choose the
frivolities of an unencumbered afternoon over the love and devotion
of a husband and children? How dare she misuse her blessings?

As my anger grew, so did my resolve. I would not allow others
to determine my future. I would grab hold of it with my own two
hands and yank it to submission. I would take the happiness that
could be mine and make it happen.

I picked up the satchel and adjusted the note on the dresser so
Papa would be sure to see it. I'nr sorry, Papa, but I could not discard my
love because of the vindictive decision of the archbishop. I am not my brother.
I have done nothing wrong and do not deserve to be punished. I will write
to you as soon as Franz and I are married and settled. Be happy for nre,
Papa. Be happy For my happiness. A thousand kisses, your Nannerl.

I knew the note would not be enough. I knew Papa would be
furious. I knew he might come after us. But I did not care. I could
not care. My future had to override my past, enrich my present,
and...

And cause Papa sorrow?

I shook the thought away and hurried toward the kitchen,
where I slipped out the back door. If I allowed myself to entertain
such thoughts of guilt and loyalty, my habit of being the good girl
would envelop me and kill the independence that had been sparked
that afternoon.

As I walked across the square, I kept the satchel low against my
skirts, hoping it would not be seen by neighbors and friends who
would wonder about the trip it represented. If only it were night
and the darkness could cover my escape.

But I dared not wait until dark. I had to go immediately, while
the fire within me burned brightest.

I entered the Virgilianum, the school Franz directed, and deposited my satchel in a corner behind a coatrack. In the classrooms
around me I heard boys reading aloud and teachers giving lessons.
Doubt suddenly assailed me. How could I interrupt Franz with this
most serious of all decisions while he was in the middle of his work?

How could I not?

I turned down the hall toward the classrooms and was immediately fueled by the sound of his voice. I paused outside a door and basked in the knowledge that he was near. I waited for a pause in
his teaching. Taking him away was bad enough. I didn't have to be
rude and interrupt.

Then suddenly I heard a bit of commotion from the room, and
before I knew what was happening, I heard Franz say, "Master
Dieter, cone outside with me a moment, please?"

I slid behind the opened door just as Franz came into the hall
with a boy. I held my skirts close against my body and peeked
around the edge of the door. There a boy of seven or eight stood
with his arms crossed defiantly. Franz had one hand on the boy's
shoulder. "Now, Dieter. Why did you shove Markus out of his
seat?"

"He made fun of me for doing poorly on the test."

"You can do better."

The little boy shrugged. Franz took the boy's chin in his hand
and lifted it, looking directly in his eyes. "You are a smart boy, Dieter
Schultz. You can get the best mark of any boy in that room."

"I can't-"

"You can." Franz tousled the boy's hair. "And you will. You stay
after class today and I will help make you the best in the class." He
leaned close. "Markus will be very jealous."

The boy smiled and nodded.

"Good. Now, let's go back inside, and no more shoving. Impress
them with your knowledge, Dieter. Knowledge is something not
even time can take away from you."

They returned to the classroom, leaving me behind the door. As
I heard Franz claim control of his charges once more, as I heard him
continue the lesson, I knew that I could not take him away from
this world of knowledge he loved. I could not force him into an
uncertain life in a new place where he would lose all that he had
gained through decades of hard work. Would he find another job as
the director of a school? Or even as a teacher? Perhaps. But perhaps
in our effort to survive and start again, he'd have to take a job as a
smithy's assistant or earn a living as a farmhand or by chopping
wood.

Such mental pictures were alarming. I could not imagine this gentle man doing manual labor. He was not a man of muscle but of
mind.

Yet ... I could help earn a living. I would give lessons and offer
my music-copying abilities to various churches and-

I sucked in a breath. Give lessons? On what? I would not have
a clavier, nor even be guaranteed access to one. As we would be
starting with nothing, a clavier would be an unaffordable luxury.

"This will not work," I whispered to the empty hall. "It can
never work."

A moment passed. Then another. No new, enlightened thought
overrode my conclusion.

So with this final truth reverberating in my soul, I retreated
down the hall, picked up my satchel, crossed the square, and reentered the home of my father. I did not pause. I did not look left
or right. I went straight to my room and set the satchel on the bed.

Then I picked up the note I'd written to Papa and took it to the
fireplace. The coals were smoldering and nearly cold. Did they still
possess enough spark to do this final job?

I held the corner of the note against them, hoping, praying ...

Blessedly, a flame burst to life.

My declaration of independence was quickly consumed.

Ashes to ashes ...

What affects one of us affects all.

In the months after I resigned myself to life without Franz as my
husband, in the months after Wolfie severed his ties with the archbishop and remained in Vienna, life continued. Yet it was forever
changed.

First off, Papa changed. He grew fat and talked too much about
who'd died and what aches and pains visited his body. He stopped
speaking of the future. Gone were detailed plans and grand schemes.
Nor did he reminisce about the golden years of our family, when
we traveled through Europe playing before royalty. The future and
the past became dead to him as he immersed himself in the here and
now.

His decision to avoid two-thirds of his life-whether made
unintentionally or with dogged determination-caused a part of
him to die. Instead of living, he existed. Instead of breathing deeply,
he settled for short snippets of air. Instead of immersing himself in
all things musical, he was content to sit in his chair and doze. Doze?
Leopold Mozart doze?