Lucy pulled into the driveway at John’s house shortly after five thirty on Thursday and parked next to a cube van with Classic Audio Mobile Services stenciled on the side.
John came out the French doors from the kitchen onto the wide porch and smiled broadly as he rounded to the back door and descended the stairs. Lucy met him with a hug. She pointed at the truck and asked, “Is that part of the surprise?”
“It is. Come along but you’ll need to be very quiet.”
With growing curiosity, Lucy climbed the stairs and pushed John away as she entered the mud room. “It will have to wait,” she said to his impatient face. He sighed.
There was muted music coming from somewhere as she freshened up and wondered if he was installing a new home theatre, tisking silently at him for spending money on upgrading something that already worked really well.
John was tapping his foot as he waited for her. “Are you ready?”
Lucy shrugged. “I guess.”
“Remember, we have to be quiet.”
As John opened the door to the basement, there was the sound of a woman’s voice counting then the sound of a string quartet swelled. Lucy cocked her head trying to place the familiar tune and almost laughed before she remembered John’s warning. The quartet was performing an arrangement of the intro to The Eagles’ Life’s Been Good to Me (So Far).
John tugged at her arm and she followed him down the long staircase and she stopped in amazement on the landing. The right side of the basement was still set up as a home theatre but the far side had been turned into a temporary recording studio.
There was a middle aged black man with headphones standing in front of a sound board perched on the covered pool table bopping appreciatively as he monitored the inputs from the instruments. A tall man with a shock of red hair was concentrating on coaxing an almost lead guitar sound from his violin. A very small woman with Asian features was playing a five string violin with an expression of contented concentration on her face. The viola player was a large buxom woman who was bowing something very complicated, trying to fill in the midrange and the cellist was a bearded man with a very relaxed manner who was playing the bass line pizzicato.
When the intro to Life’s Been Good finished they segued into the chorus of Peaceful Easy Feeling and finished with an excerpt from Hotel California.
The producer made a hand signal and said, “That’s a wrap, folks.”
John and Lucy applauded and Lucy finally let her laughter loose. The five musicians all turned to look their way and Lucy called, “That was brilliant!”
John looked at the producer and asked, “Well, Jeff, is she right?”
Jeff gave an amused glance toward the quartet and said, “It was okay.”
The petite Asian woman grabbed the pillow from behind her back and threw it at him. “Jeff, if one of our fans says it’s brilliant you have to do better than ‘okay’.”
The tall redhead asked, “Hey, John. Who’s the pretty lady?”
John coaxed Lucy forward. “Introduction time, I think. This is my very good friend, Lucy Wilkinson, an ecologist and soon-to-be landscape architect. Lucy, this character is the president, CEO, producer, recording engineer, chief cook and bottle washer for Classic Audio, Jeff Duffy.” Jeff gave her a relaxed wave and a broad smile. “These four are the not quite famous enough 17 Strings Quartet out of Aurora, Ontario.” He started with the tall man who bowed in her direction, “Aaron MacKinnon, arranger and first violin, Julie Tsang, second violin or second viola or both, although not usually at the same time.” Julie sketched a curtsey with a sunny smile on her face. “…Monika Lewinski, first viola…” At the odd look on Lucy’s face she said, “Yes, really,” with a rueful expression as she stood and took a bow. “… and on cello, Mike Johnson.” Mike inclined his head and did a quick bass run with his bow.
John turned back to Jeff. “So how did the space work?”
Jeff got a big smile and began to talk excitedly. “This is an amazing space, John. The reverb is incredible. It took us over an hour of fiddling to get the instruments and quilts in the right places and the microphones placed properly. But take a listen to this…” Jeff dragged an output cable over to John’s stereo system. Jeff continued as a hint of a Caribbean accent crept into his voice as his excitement built. “It’s Aaron’s new arrangement of Pachelbel’s Canon.” He looked back at the band. “Everyone sit in the good chairs and put your feet up.” Then, as an aside to John, he said, “They haven’t heard it yet. I took a listen when they were on break.”
Lucy sat next to John on the love seat. Monika took Mike’s hand and pulled him to the sofa. Aaron took a La-Z-Boy but Julie and Jeff both chose to stand. Jeff played with some settings then clicked the play button on the computer and waited for a couple of seconds. A soft alto voice, probably Monika’s counted “3, 4, 1 and 2 and 3 and 4 and…” There was a silent pause that lasted four beats then the music began with all four instruments perfectly on beat. They listened as the melody transferred from one instrument to the next one until the second repeat when it broke into the canon and pairs of instruments began to echo the melody, first high and low then, because of Julie’s five string, two violas and violin-cello then low and high and last violin-viola with viola-cello echoing. The volume built and diminished and built again as the piece coasted to a gentle landing on a lingering chord.
Into the silence, Julie said, “Wow. I knew you guys were bang on and I hoped I was close but … Wow.”
Jeff asked, “So does that go on the album?”
Aaron said, “Oh, yeah.” Then he asked, “Can we hear the Beatles medley?”
Jeff said, “Sure.” Then he asked John, “When’s supper?”
“Any time. There are three different lasagnas staying warm in the oven - meat, seafood and vegetarian; a veggie tray, potato salad, coleslaw, and Greek salad in the fridge; garlic bread ready to heat and, for dessert, I have one of Lucy’s apple pies left over from yesterday and ice cream to go with it. Everything is ready to go when we are.”
Jeff winked and said, “She can cook, too? Oh, man, are you ever lucky.”
Lucy blushed and felt John’s hand squeeze hers as the opening of Eleanor Rigby came through the speakers.
“How did you get the idea to record here?” Lucy tried to get comfortable on the firm cushions of the formal parlour sofa while she sipped at her decaf.
Julie answered. “I was taking music at Guelph the same time as John’s sister Irene was in agriculture, although she was a couple of years ahead of me. To get spending money, I was playing in a country house band at one of the local bars…”
Aaron said, “Julie can really rock it out on the electric fiddle.”
Julie glared at the interruption but continued. “Irene and Ernie are two of my biggest fans and we became good friends. Irene plays a mean rockabilly piano and she sat in with the band whenever she could. So when Mike and Monika invited me to join their quartet…”
Monika interrupted, “Making us seventeen strings instead of the usual sixteen…”
Julie rolled her eyes. “We got a contract to play a couple of gigs in Eastern Ontario. So, to save us some money I asked Irene if she would put us up for a couple of nights. And she said yes.”
Aaron snickered, “But Irene being Irene set Julie up on a blind date with John, thinking that because he loves baroque music that he’d love the musician…”
John huffed and said, “That’s my big sister.”
Julie almost lost it and said, “I like John just fine…”
Mike sighed and said, “Yes, yes, we’ve heard it before. He’s too big.”
Julie waggled a finger at Mike. “Well, he’s more than twice my size. And he’s too nice for his own good.” She huffed. “Anyway…” She looked a dare at the rest of them waiting for an interruption. “We stayed with them and we had a great time. We try to stay with them when we’re in the area, even if Irene still tries to set me up with a date every time we come. But when we got the gig to do three school Chri
stmas concerts, the twins had just come along and she didn’t have the energy to host us. So John offered his house.”
Monika continued the story. “We got in very late from a gig in Montreal and crashed. John left breakfast out for us and went off to supervise his apprentices in the barn. His note said we had free run of the house but warned us not to disturb anything in the office and to make a list of any groceries we used so he could replace them. My darling Mike is a nosey parker and peered into every nook and cranny above ground before he found the stairs to the basement. It’s pretty obvious why John got his master’s papers so young.”
Mike picked up the story. “We had a choice between doing our pre-concert practice in the parlour here…” He waved his hand in a circle around the room, “Or in the basement. We set up in here first but it was a sunny day and it was too bright to read the music properly with the glare off the snow. There are no curtains because John doesn’t have any neighbours close. Aaron grumbled because he doesn’t like missing out on daylight but we trooped downstairs and set up by the pool table. It was awesome.” His voice took on a reverent tone. “We love practicing down there because we can hear each other properly. It’s such a live space. So when we asked John if he’d billet us for the Chamber Festival I also asked if he’d let us take over the basement for the weekend so we could record an album.”
Jeff said, “I don’t know that we’ll need the full time here. I think we’ll have enough material for at least three albums by Saturday afternoon. You guys are a machine.”
Monika said, “The space downstairs helps.”
Lucy, who had been idly stroking a very contented Smudge, said, “The three pieces Jeff played us were pretty amazing.”
Julie said, “It’s a very baroque kind of space with the vaulted stone ceiling. I think it gets us in the right mood very quickly. We seem to play better in churches than in school gyms, for instance. It’s a better head space.”
“Will you be doing any of the modern medleys at the concert tomorrow?” Lucy was curious.
“Absolutely. We’ve been doing that Beatles medley for about six years.” Julie said, “I only just managed to convince them to try some country rock stuff. And I was playing them one of John’s Natalie McMaster CDs while Jeff was fiddling with the mikes. I’m hoping that we can work up some of the Celtic stuff eventually. I’d love to do Drunken Piper if we can get a good arrangement. We had to turn down a wedding reception because we didn’t have any Scottish stuff worked up.”
Lucy gave an amused smile to John as she contemplated the tiny Asian woman’s enthusiasm for country and Celtic fiddle music. Monika spoke, “Only if we can do some polka and klezmer stuff.”
Julie hopped off the small antique rocking chair and stuck out a hand. “Deal.”
Monika took it and said, “Deal,” looking at Mike as if to dare him to say anything.
Aaron sighed and said, “Get me the sheet music for at least the melodies…”
Julie sashayed over to Aaron and planted a kiss on his cheek. “You’re a sweetheart, Aaron.”
“Yeah, but I’m still too tall…”
Everyone laughed but Lucy felt a wave of sympathy at the look of longing that briefly crossed his face and recognized that she’d seen the same look recently. On her face in the mirror and on John’s when he didn’t think she could see him. She snuck a look at John to see him watching her instead of Julie. Both unsettled and comforted by that, she snuggled closer to him while he encouraged the quartet to tell more stories.
A hand took Lucy’s shoulder and twirled her around. Before she could protest, someone was trying to give her a passionate kiss. She turned her head receive the kiss on her cheek and a familiar voice said, “Luce, darling. I thought it was you.”
Lucy looked slightly down at a mildly inebriated Byron Shelley, a professional student with whom she’d had several brief flings with over the years. She only said, “Byron,” in a frosty tone.
Byron looked down at the belly between them and said, “Cool. I’ve never made it with a pregnant woman before.”
A large hand grabbed the back of his collar. “And it will be a while longer before you do.”
Lucy looked like a deer in the headlights wondering how she would explain this. “John, this is Byron Shelley. We were at university together.”
Byron stepped back and John let him loose. “It wasn’t the only place we were together,” he said in suggestive tone. Byron gave John an appreciative once over. “Maybe we could share him, Luce?”
Lucy was flabbergasted and struggled to answer when John said, “No thanks, Byron.”
Byron finally registered the cold looks from both Lucy and John. “Hey, no harm trying.”
John jerked a thumb toward the exit. “But there will be if you try again.”
“Are you threatening me?”
Lucy finally recovered. “I would think that after fourteen years of university you would be able to recognize a threat all by yourself.”
The maître d’ interposed himself between the two men, “Mr. MacLeish, is this man bothering you?”
Byron said, “Giuseppe, I was just saying hello to an old friend.”
Giuseppe raised an eyebrow. “Your father is not here yet, Mr. Shelley. If you wish, you can wait for him in the bar.” The tone told everyone it was not a suggestion. Byron turned on his heel and left. Giuseppe turned to John. “May I show you to your table?”
John offered Lucy his arm. “Please, Mr. Bernatelli, if you would.”
Giuseppe led them to a table for two by a wall.
After they ordered their suppers, a worried Lucy looked at John over the candle in the center of the elegantly set table. “I’m sorry about that.”
John fought his temper. “I’m not angry with you. I’m angry with me and I’m angry with Byron. And a little jealous of him, too.”
“But I’ve explained…”
John interrupted. “I try not to think about your past, Lucy. You’ve made changes in your life, repented if you like, and I have to accept that you have changed. Which is sometimes difficult for me with your… souvenirs. I’m trying to stay focused on the present.” He lowered his voice. “But I am jealous of Byron because I’ve wanted to kiss you for the past two weeks. Since I saw you in that yellow bikini.”
Lucy’s mouth formed an O. “But I thought…”
John reached across the table to take her hand. “I’ve been doing a lot of praying about things Lucy. I’m not comfortable with the idea that you’re not an untouched maiden but there’s some evidence to the contrary.”
Lucy got a wry look at that and cast a glance at her belly. “I suppose so.”
“We all have baggage. When he touched you it was all I could do not to hammer him into the wall. When he tried to kiss you, I could tell that his attentions were unwanted and all of my instincts were screaming that my woman was in danger.”
“We haven’t talked about any of that yet.”
“No. And I’m not really expecting that we’ll figure it out tonight, Lucy.”
Lucy almost told him that she was coming to love him and want more than mere friendship but something in his tone held her back. She nodded and squeezed his hand. “I’m glad you didn’t damage him, John. It would have ruined our evening if I’d had to get you out of jail.”
John squeezed her hand and let go with a rueful smile. “Julie and her gang would be disappointed if we didn’t show up.”
“And so would I.”
John let out a big sigh and shook his head as if to reset his thoughts. “I have a favour to ask you.”
Lucy was very curious. “Oh?”
“I’ve been putting off sorting through Rob’s things. I need some moral support and Irene is more of a basket case about Rob than I am.”
Lucy nodded. “I understand. I was the person who had to pack up my grandfather’s life. I wish I’d had someone to be there for me. It was a very long summer.”
“Your mother didn’t help?”
&nbs
p; In a bitter tone, she said, “Mother only ever helps Mother. She came down for the reading of the will, packed Grandmother’s jewellery, a photo album and three paintings for shipment to Edmonton then told me I had until the property was listed to take Grandfather’s papers and let her know if I wanted to buy any of her things that were left behind. The real estate agent didn’t obey Mother’s instructions and gave me almost a month in the old house to sort through everything and then arranged a sixty day closing to give me more time. The executor let me keep the things I wanted in exchange for my work, like the mantel clock and the kitchen set. Mother was not happy with his decision.”
John heard the bitterness in her voice. “Have you ever prayed for your mother?”
Automatically, Lucy said, “Of course.”
John raised an eyebrow.
Lucy reconsidered. “Actually, no, I haven’t. I’ve prayed for me and my relationship with her but I don’t think I’ve ever prayed for her.”
“What’s her name? I should add her to my long list.” John sounded a bit tentative.
“Elizabeth Eldritch. She never took my father’s last name.”
“It might help if you knew why she is like she is.”
“She’ll never tell me. It would mean giving up a measure of control. If I knew any of her secrets they might get out and mess up her perfect life.”
John shrugged. “Eventually you’ll have to forgive her.”
“Like you’ve forgiven your father and Rob?”
John felt the sting of truth in her statement. “I’m reasonably sure I’ve forgiven Rob. I still miss him like crazy even if he could drive me nuts in under a minute. But you’re right. I have to forgive my father. He was a petty tyrant and an alcoholic and a control freak and he got much worse after my mother died. It was pretty bad when I was taking my masonry courses in Perth.” John cast his eyes downward. “Becoming a mason was my rebellion. I fell in love with the idea of stonework on a class trip to New York City. We toured St. John the Divine and I was hooked. But Father was working on me to take over my brother’s duties as the son who would inherit the farm because Rob ran away and joined the army.”
“Outside of church activities, I had no time to myself at all. I had to help with both milkings every day and still keep up with my studies because Dad was hung over or drunk and we needed to keep the farm going. I was chewed out every time I was late home because of winter weather. Father didn’t even pay me because he drank away most of the cash but I had some money from Mom’s mother to keep my rattletrap pickup on the road and to pay for tuition.” John snorted. “At least I got fed and we managed to survive without selling milking quota.”
“The day after Irene and Ernie returned from their honeymoon to take over the farm was the day I headed for Germany to apprentice to a mason in Stuttgart who knew the master I was working for here. That was the last time I saw Dad alive. My last memory of him was a huge fight. It’s one of the things I’d like a mulligan on. If I could get a redo I’d write and tell him that I loved him despite all the grief he gave us. At least I got to say those things to Rob before he died.”
The waiter came with their appetizers and left quietly. Lucy related the memory of her mother’s conversation with her grandfather.
“That’s awful, Lucy. At least Dad didn’t go really strange until Mom passed away. So there’s only you and your mother left?”
“A former colleague of his told me that my father went home to England after his stint in Rwanda and remarried. Apparently he had another daughter. But I didn’t find that out until I was taking my Masters.”
“Have you tried to contact your half-sister?” John was curious.
“No. I haven’t. I only know her name, Ginny Wilkinson. My father was based in Manchester when he was killed in Somalia. But that was twenty-three years ago. She could be anywhere by now.”
“What about grandparents?”
“I don’t know. I only know Ginny’s name because one of the doctors in Edmonton had worked with him in Afghanistan. And Ginny could be short for a number of names – Eugenia, Virginia, Iphigenia… there’s probably more.”
“Your mother never said anything?”
“Mother never spoke of him unless I asked first. And I learned very early not to ask. My father’s friend said that I look like a female version of him – tall and athletic. I always wanted to be slender and dainty like Mother.”
John examined Lucy in the candlelight with the jewels in her ear and nose sparkling. A smile came to his face while he wondered what he’d thought so objectionable on their first meeting. Lucy allowed the pause and waited for John to speak. Eventually he said, “I think you’re just the perfect size.”
Lucy involuntarily looked down at her baby bump. “Really?”
John reached across the table to take her hand. “Really. You’re exactly the right height for me and I don’t feel like you’ll break when I give you a hug.”
Lucy’s mind wandered to the too few hugs she’d received from him. “I’ve never made the opportunity to hang out with anyone as big as you are. It’s been interesting.” She cast her eyes downward. “Most of the guys I hit on were like Byron, my height or a bit less, slender, pretty and selfish enough that I knew they weren’t looking for anything permanent. Aside from the Dudley Do-Right vibe you give off, you’re too… I don’t know… male for Luce Wilkinson.” She reached across to take his hand. “I don’t trust people easily, John. So I picked the guys I hooked up with based on how easily I could control them or avoid them afterwards.” She shrugged. “If I’d seen you in the bar, or anyone like you, I’d have avoided you like the plague.”
John sensed that she had more to say and squeezed her hand.
“But since I’ve grown up, which I think happened on the drive here from Edmonton this spring, I’ve realized that I never stopped trying to get my mother’s attention – to get her to care about me. Whether it was tattoos and piercings or dropping pre-med or unconsciously selecting the same type of men she does, most of my decisions have been about trying to getting her to react. The only thing I really did for myself was the doctorate in ecology.”
“And that got stolen from you.” John’s tone was sympathetic.
Lucy nodded. “So, it has been a very strange time for me, finally accepting that I need help and friends; that I need to turn my automatic reaction to people from ‘go away’ to some sort of cautious acceptance. I wasn’t taught to trust people, John, and especially not men. Mother only had one use for them and life partner wasn’t one of them.” Then she smiled appreciatively and squeezed his hand before withdrawing hers. “But I trust you. And I disagree with Julie. You are not too big.”
John said, “Thank you,” and allowed a portion of his yearning for her show as he smiled back. Then he changed the subject by asking how her research on buffer zones was coming along and listened with interest as the conversation began to meander.
17 Strings finished their Beatles medley with a flourish and laid down their instruments. Walking quickly to the sacristy, Julie asked, “Aaron, did John make it?”
“Yes. He and Lucy are about halfway back, on the outside so Lucy could wander if she needed to. Which she did a few times.”
The applause had gone into the rhythmic clapping that demanded an encore. Monika said, “Okay, let’s do it, folks.”
Mike led them back into the hall. Monika remained standing after the audience took their seats again. She had a mischievous smile on her face.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have some more music for you but first I have to embarrass one of the patrons of this festival.”
John got a nasty premonition that he knew what was next. Monika pointed in his direction. “One of the very good friends of this festival and 17 Strings is John MacLeish, a master mason who works out of the Kemptville area. You’ve probably seen his beautiful stonework without knowing it on restored heritage buildings around the Ottawa Valley and on brand new stone buildings that look like they’ve been
there since Confederation. We have been privileged to use his vaulted stone basement as a recording studio this week.” She pointed at the projection screen on the wall behind her right shoulder. A small slide show of the quartet in John’s basement that included details of the stonework went up on the screen. Monika continued, “So, in honour of our good friend, our next album will be titled Music from the Mason’s Basement and as a special treat we worked up a new piece of music specifically for him.” Then she beckoned. “John, would you and Lucy please come forward.”
John looked like he wanted to hide under the pew. Lucy, on the outside, took John’s hand and whispered, “It will be fine. I’ll be there with you.” She stood and tugged on his hand. Reluctantly he followed as the audience whispered among themselves.
The quartet stood and bowed as Monika pointed to a pair of comfortable chairs set up in the main aisle at the front. As Lucy sat she remembered that these chairs were in the same place that a bride and groom would sit for the wedding sermon. John looked at his chair as if he was thinking the same thing. He helped Lucy then sat down. Lucy took his hand in an attempt to reduce his anxiety.
Monika sat and Julie stood. “We didn’t have enough time to make this a true quartet piece, so it will be an improvised session piece. Therefore, we need some help.” She pointed at the vestry door. Anne MacDonald, in a formal white Scottish evening gown with a MacDonald of the Isles tartan sash, strode out to stand next to Julie with her fiddle in hand.
Julie spoke again. “This is another friend of 17 Strings. Anne MacDonald is John’s neighbour and is a past North American Scottish fiddle champion. Now, ladies and gentlemen, in honour of our patron, Master John MacLeish, we present The Master Mason’s Medley.”
Anne tapped her hard soled shoes to give the rhythm then started with a standard flourish before Julie joined in. John recognized the tunes as they came by: The Bricklayer’s Reel, The Stonecutters Waltz and to finish, The Mason’s Apron. While there were a few less than appreciative members of the audience, most of them clapped along as the rest of the musicians joined in. At the end, Anne and the quartet took a bow to thunderous applause.
Anne took a seat in the front pew with a broad grin and a wink for John and Lucy.
Aaron stood. In his smooth chocolaty baritone he said, “We weren’t certain about performing this tonight but John’s lady Lucy was so impressed by it that we decided it was ready to spring on our unsuspecting fans. I think you’ll recognize it.”
Aaron remained standing as Mike strummed the bass line in a familiar pattern and Aaron began the Eagles medley. A chorus of appreciative laughter died quickly so that the audience could concentrate on the musicianship on display. More raucous applause followed.
Monika stood. “Finally, we have a new arrangement of Pachelbel’s Canon that Aaron wrote for us to take advantage of Julie’s talent and her five string violin. We think you’ll like it.”
John took Lucy’s hand and she leaned on his shoulder, eyes closed, to put as many distractions as possible out of her head. Just as it had in the basement, the virtuoso playing of the quartet washed over her and transported her out of her worries for the endless instant the music lasted.
There was silence for several seconds then the applause began and rebounded to the ceiling. The quartet took a bow and left with their instruments, signalling the end of the concert. The emcee came over to John and Lucy to ask them to join everyone in the sacristy.
Julie came bouncing over. “I hope you weren’t too embarrassed.”
John blushed. Lucy leaned into him and said, “I think he’ll survive. It was a lovely tribute. I didn’t know that you knew Anne.”
“I know most of the better fiddle players in the province. Irene invited Anne and the family to supper one time when we came up. I think John was meeting with a client that night.”
Aaron came to stand behind Julie. “Julie and Anne decided that after supper we should have a ceilidh. Irene is pretty good at that thumping Cape Breton piano accompaniment.”
John allowed his pride to show. “I wish I’d inherited the talent to play rather than just the talent to enjoy the music.”
Mike said, sincerely, “But you, my friend, are a genius with granite.” Then he winked, “Maybe both our work will still be appreciated in two hundred years.”
Jeff joined the group. “We need one more concert like this one, folks. I think I’ve got about forty minutes of clean performance. You were okay but there were a couple of audience issues. If we get another ten to twenty minutes we have a live album. Forty would be better.”
Monika beckoned the caretaker over. “Is the minister here tonight?”
“I think so. Let me see if he’s hanging around at the back.”
Aaron looked suspiciously at Monika.
Monika said, “We’re not due at our next gig until Wednesday evening, right?”
Julie nodded. “Quebec City, I think. Or is it Sherbrooke? I know we’re doing both next week.”
Monika grinned. “It’s Sherbrooke first. Now, are you guys okay with doing a couple of free concerts?”
Jeff looked dubious. “I have to be back in Toronto for Tuesday morning.”
Monika looked a question at John.
You’re welcome to stay with me as long as you want.” John edged closer to Lucy.
Mike nodded. “Okay. Let’s see if we can do two then.”
Monika said, “Do you think your church will let us do a fund raiser for them on Sunday evening? We have a few hours of sacred music we can play.”
John nodded. “I think Jack would be very amenable to that.”
Lucy said, “I can distribute flyers in Merrickville and Smiths Fall. And I’m sure we can get a crew to get some buzz going in Kemptville and the nearby villages. We can do a ‘Rolling Thunder’ type blitz and CHRI might be willing to give us some free publicity. I can do the poster if John lets me use his computer.”
“That’s not a problem.” Then he added, “It doesn’t have to be all sacred music, even on a Sunday. But you might have to sit through some opening and closing prayers.”
Aaron said, “I’m cool with that.”
“I’ll need some highlights of the program for the poster.”
Mike said, “We’ll talk about it on the way back to John’s place and give you a set list. Well, at least the highlights.”
A thirty-something man wearing a clerical collar came into the sacristy. “Thank you all, so much. I enjoyed that very much, especially the Eagle’s medley during the encore.”
“Thank you very much.” Julie turned on her full charm. “Pastor, I noticed that you occasionally have noon time concerts. We were wondering if we could trade you a fundraising concert or two Monday from 11:30 to 1:30 in exchange for allowing us to record a few more pieces for our live album.”
The minister pulled out his Blackberry to check his schedule. “There isn’t anything happening here Monday.” He paused to think. “We had a call from the food bank this week. How about suggesting a $2 donation or the equivalent in canned goods?”
Lucy nodded. “We’ll put that on the posters, then. Do you have some people who can help do a poster blitz tomorrow afternoon or Sunday?”
“I’m sure I can come up with some volunteers.”
“Then it’s a date.”
John asked, “Do you need some help tearing down?”
Jeff looked pointedly at Lucy. “John, my man. You have much better things to do than lug boxes to the truck. But Sunday evening I’m expecting you to be there.”
Irene picked up a sheet of drawing paper with a pastoral scene. “Is this your work, Lucy?”
Lucy smiled as she looked up from John’s computer. “It is. I’d forgotten how much I like to doodle.”
Irene examined the spring scene again. “This is the disappearing creek at the farm, isn’t it?”
Lucy smiled. “Well, it’s inspired by it. I was trying to imagine what it would look like in ten years if you turned it into a reservoir with a
small power dam and a really weedy outflow to act as a buffer to satisfy the environmental regulations. It could look like that if you plant what my research is coming up with. I added the old fashioned water mill to the sketch to balance it but the actual power plant is submerged.”
Monika came in to look over Lucy’s shoulder. “Jeff wants us to give two fifty minute concerts at 11:30 and 12:40 at St. Andrew’s. For Sunday evening, we’ll just play repertoire for a couple of hours. We figure on two one hour sets and maybe an encore or two as long as we play each of the three pieces Jeff isn’t quite satisfied with. That should give us three more cracks at them.”
Monika’s eyes widened in appreciation and pointed at the pastoral scene so that only Irene could see her. She mouthed ‘Wow’ at Irene who smiled in return. “I’ll let you get back to your work. We’re taking a long break to get some coffee and to let Aaron follow his muse. He’s out in the kitchen porch with some staff paper scribbling ideas down. We found a copy of Puirt a Baroque’s Bach Meets Cape Breton in John’s collection and Julie sat Aaron down to let him listen to their version of Neil Gow’s Lament for the Death of His Second Wife. It brought tears to his eyes. Their version is for violin, guitar and harpsichord but he heard something in it that he thinks we can do and he found a copy of the melody line on the Internet. And we need another slow piece to complete the album.” Monika sipped her coffee. “It will probably take us a dozen takes before we can perform it without crying. I don’t know if I’ve ever heard a sadder piece of music.”
“Julie played it at Dad’s funeral. Her hands were shaking so badly that it took her three tries to begin it.” Irene’s eyes started to fill at the memory. “Oh, I forgot about that part of being pregnant.”
Lucy looked up from the monitor. “What part?”
“The crying at the drop of a hat part.” Irene located the box of tissues and blotted her eyes.
Lucy and Monika both gave Irene a sympathetic look. Lucy said, “If you’re on a break, can you proof read this?” She clicked on the print button for each of the two posters and stood to stretch out her back.
“Sure.” Monika moved over to the colour printer to retrieve the sheets. “Wellington Srteet?”
Lucy frowned. “Let me see.” She sighed. “Spell checker should have caught that one.” She sat back down and made the correction. “Anything else?”
Monika shook her head and said, “Nope. They’re lovely work, Lucy, and that big reddish-purple frame should draw everyone’s attention.”
“That’s the plan.”
“What’s the plan, sweetie?” John filled the doorway from the kitchen to the office with Lissa and Henk in his arms.
Irene raised an eyebrow at the endearment directed Lucy’s way, but Lucy didn’t appear to notice anything out of the ordinary. “The frame on the poster. It’s supposed to draw the eye and make it stand out.” She got a hard look. “Mother insisted that I take drawing classes after I proved to her satisfaction that I had limited musical talent. I still doodle.” Then she stood and moved toward John.
Lissa remembered her friend and held out her hands. “Loothy? Up?”
Lucy reached for Lissa and Henk began to bounce in anticipation of having his Uncle John to himself. “How are you today, Lissa?” She settled the dark haired girl on one hip trying to see what it would be like to carry her own daughter around. Lissa reached up to play with Lucy’s sparkly ear.
Irene caught Julie’s eye as she came in to examine the poster and nodded toward John and Lucy. Julie looked wistful as she watched the tableau unfold. Lissa and Henk were happy where they were so Irene went out into the hallway and headed for the kitchen with Julie trailing.
“Oh man, Reenie. It’s been a while since I’ve seen two people look at each other like that.”
“I know. I don’t think either of them remembers that they’ve got company, other than my kids.”
Julie walked over to the stove to put the kettle on. “Do you think John’s okay with helping raise Lucy’s kid?”
“I think it’s more whether he can forgive her for her past. She told me some stories about her former lifestyle when we visited her at her cottage last week. She was really wild. Worse than some of Max’s groupies if what she says isn’t exaggerated.”
“Whoa. And John is such a straight arrow.”
Irene poured herself a coffee. “He’s really mellowed since Rob died. The baby’s father was one of the guys in Rob’s unit and when Nick was killed Rob took it really hard. He and John talked every day about some pretty serious stuff. I think John had to face up to some things, too.”
“So do you think he’ll forgive her?”
“He’ll have to. She’s perfect for him and he’s so in love. And when are you going to put Aaron out of his misery?”
Julie looked shamefaced. “I think I have to wait for Grandfather to pass away before I can do that, Reenie. Everyone else in the family likes Aaron and my mother has finally accepted that I won’t be marrying one of her favourites. But I love Grandfather too much to distress him.”
Irene wrapped Julie in a big hug. “That really sucks, Julie.”
“So is having Grandfather in the palliative care unit.” Julie shrugged. “I think I’m going to have a talk with Aaron and tell him why I haven’t taken it further yet.”
“I think that’s a good idea. You don’t have to talk about Aaron when you’re home but you do need to figure out what to tell him. And it won’t be very long if your Grandfather is in palliative care. Why don’t you bring Aaron a coffee and tell him?”
“You think I should do it now?”
“Why not? You did say this was more like a vacation than work. What better time to talk about things? Especially with a man who loves you to distraction like he does.”
Julie bit her lip as she thought about it. Then she nodded decisively and said, “Okay.”
Irene followed her as far as the office then beckoned Monika and Mike to follow silently.
They spotted Aaron at the patio table outside the kitchen. His head was down as Julie handed him a coffee cup which he distractedly put down on the table next to his papers. Julie was looking impatient and said something that made Aaron sit up straight and pay attention to her. She carefully put all of the papers in a neat stack then settled onto Aaron’s lap and dragged his head down to hers for a long kiss. Aaron’s eyes were wide with wonder as if he couldn’t believe what was going on. Julie snuggled closer and put her head on Aaron’s shoulder and they could see that she was speaking soft words to him as his arms enclosed her as if to keep the rest of the world at bay.
Mike looked over Irene’s shoulder at the tableau. “About bloody time, if you ask me,” he said gruffly. “If anyone wants me, I’ll be at the grocery store in Kemptville. Aaron won’t have that music ready until supper at this rate.”
Monika said, “I’ll come with you and get these copied. Maybe Irene can let Jeff know that we’ll be a while.”
John looked at Irene’s smug expression then Lucy caught his eye with an unvoiced question and tilted her head as if for a kiss.
His answering look could only be interpreted as, ‘Soon.’
Chapter 17