As Sorcha looked about my kitchen, I realized how depressing this room must be. A bachelor’s kitchen, decorated all in black, pristinely neat and obviously quite unused. I suppose it will get more than enough use this week. I expect Sorcha hasn’t been eating as well as she should while on the road. I can’t claim that I’ve been taking care of myself either, I guess. Kitchens are so boring, anyway.
“I’m sure you’re not very interested in the kitchen, there’s not much to see,” I remarked over my shoulder as I began to make my way into the dining room. If she liked my living room, I was quite sure she’d enjoy the dining room. I don’t know why I built the damn thing…it’s not as if I have guests over for dinner with any frequency!
“Actually, I‘m very interested! I’m a pretty good cook, and I haven’t had a chance to cook over anything but a campfire for ages. I’d like to cook for us sometime, if that’s okay. If not, that’s okay; I know some people are very possessive about their kitchens.” She was still looking about the kitchen with some eagerness, actually. On top of everything else, this amazing soul was a cook. Would here be no end to the surprises?
“You stare down ghosts, work backstage, and you cook! My, my, child, is there anything you can’t do?”
She started to grin at me, again, but stopped and winced again. One of the small cuts on her cheek was trickling blood again; she must have pulled it open. “Run down stairs without falling on my face, apparently,” she chuckled, painedly. I suddenly felt VERY guilty for being the cause of all her recent pain.
“I am sorry about that.” Apologizing is not normally in my nature, but I meant it very sincerely.
“What do you mean? I fell down those stairs all on my own, thank you,” she replied with mock pride.
It was time to confess my little role in her misadventure of the day. “Perhaps, but who do you think put the stairs there right at the moment you needed them? And I did put that bit of rope around your ankle that made you fall the second time.” She looked at me incredulously, but with no anger. I hurried through the rest of my apology. “I didn’t mean to make you trip, just get you tangled so you wouldn’t get away quickly.” It was suddenly very hard to meet her eyes, so I gazed into the dining room. “I, I wanted to talk to you. You seemed different than everyone else.”
I expected anger, but I got humor instead. “Well, I should certainly hope so! I probably should be mad but I guess I can’t. Not when I’m having such an interesting time.”
“Well, in my own defense, I did not expect you to hurl yourself bodily down those stairs!” I chuckled and looked back to her, where I could see her eyes glowing with the same amusement I felt.
“Neither did I!” she laughed. “I think I’ve seen enough of the kitchen. What other wonderful rooms do you have to show me?”
“The dining room is through here, Mademoiselle.” Her good nature was infectious and I played up to it, pretending to be an uppity waiter, letting myself play with her a bit. I found myself genuinely enjoying myself as I showed Sorcha about my home, for the first time in a long time.
She was duly impressed with the dining room. I leaned against the wall next to the door and watched her inspect to room. She traced the carvings on the table with light fingers and smiled into the candles. Then, she stopped with her back to me next to the table and reached out, gently touching one of the roses in the vase. Why not? I asked myself. I stepped up quietly behind her and reached out for the same rose.
Sorcha snatched her hand away from the rose the instant she saw me reach for it, and I stifled a sigh. Things are going so well, you can’t expect life to be perfect just because you brought home a stray, Erik. Be a gentleman, anyway. Instead of drawing back, as well, I pulled the rose from its companions in the vase and broke the stem from it. I had been intending to tuck it into her hair, myself, but I merely offered it to her instead.
“No beautiful woman should be without roses,” I commented. She took it immediately, but I was very careful not to touch her as she did. If that was her wish, I would certainly stand by it. She kept my gaze with an expression on her face I couldn’t decipher and tucked the flower into her hair, just as I had thought it should be.
Without another word I went back through the living room and to the hall doorway.
“Down here is all that’s left.” I leaned against the wall as she came to look down the hall. My door at the far end was open, but I didn’t feel I needed to show her that. The music room door was also open, but I was not going to push my luck and hope that she was musically proficient, or even appreciative, as well as everything else.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about having her stay in Madeline’s old room. Perhaps she would dismiss all the old ghosts, or perhaps it would just make my life more painful to see another beautiful woman coming in and out of that door. But, there was nothing to do about it.
When she came around the corner, I tapped on the closed door. “This will be your room. My room is at the end of the hall if you need anything or have any problems.” I started to leave her to get settled in but her questions stopped me once again.
“Wait, what’s that room?” she asked, pointing to the Music room.
Sorcha’s curiosity was going to get her killed someday; I became sure of it at that moment. But, for the time being, it was a welcome distraction. “That’s the music room. I’m sure you’re not interested.” I turned toward my room again.
“I beg to differ! I love music. I’d like to see, please!” She did me the courtesy of not bounding right down there on her own, which I appreciated. And, she claimed to like music. Well, it can’t do any harm, and she’s going to end up seeing it one ay or the other. Who knows, maybe she’s actually talented? I smiled at the thought of having a musical companion.
“Very well then.”
She followed me down the hall and when I entered the room she suddenly stopped dead in the doorway, staring, open mouthed. I could barely hear her comment, and could not suppress a smile. “Oh my,” she whispered, awed.
She was awed with good reason. If the rest of the room in my home were interesting, the Music room was amazing. The entire wall directly opposite the door was filled with pipes, most for the pipe organ which stretched up to the heightened ceiling, but many were sound pipes leading to various locations all over the Opera. Most of my ‘haunting’ was done right from this room. By listening and speaking through the pipes, the Ghost could ‘be’ anywhere in the theatre or several places at once.
Each of the side walls were divided into two sections. The upper section was nothing but sheet music. Whole scores, pieces for individual instruments or voices, hastily scribbled compositions of my own or priceless, well cared for original scores from many operas, all were filed away neatly on the shelves that filled each wall from four feet off the floor to the ceiling. On the bottom layers of shelves were all varieties of instruments. Brass, woodwind, string, even a few percussion instruments. I had almost every type imaginable.
The entire wall with the door in it was mirrored so a practicing musician could watch their posture and technique. Madeline had even used this room to practice ballet a few times, thanks to the mirrors. I had never been privileged to watch.
I seated myself backwards on the organ bench and grinned as Sorcha examined the room. She walked in the first few steps blindly, staring upwards at the organ. Then, she seemed to give herself a mental shake and began to really look around. She walked over to one of the shelves and perused the scores for a while, then crouched to look at all the instruments. I noticed her pause to run her fingers lovingly over a viola.
“I used to play,” she said as she stood and turned to me. “I was good, too, but I had to give it up. No money for lessons, or an instrument. Gods, that was forever ago. I didn’t even realize how much I missed it.” She stole another glance at the stringed instrument.
“You can play it now, if you like,” I gestured to it.
She shook her head, laughing ruefully. “Thanks, no. I’m so out of practice, I’d probably break your instrument! The only thing I’ve used to make music for a long time is my voice.” I started a bit and looked at her intently.
“So, you sing then?” I asked, nonchalantly. Even if she wasn’t very good, I could certainly train her to be decent enough to sing a few simple duets with. I haven’t sung a duet with anyone in almost five years. I’d forgotten how I missed it! She’s no Madeline, but perhaps we could make some music together.
“Yes. I’m not trained in it, or anything, but I’ve been making my living by singing in the streets for about three years.” She shrugged, with no idea how excited I was by this prospect.
“Would you sing for me? Please?” I needed to find out how good, or bad, she was.
“I really don’t think you want me to do that. I’m in pretty rough shape right now, what with that tumble down the stairs and all.” She winked at me and touched her side, gingerly, acknowledging the fact that I was the cause for her tumble.
“Please. I’d like to hear a new voice after so long of listening to those self-important inflated egos upstairs.” I waved a hand at the ceiling, taking in everyone above. “Besides, I’m a very good judge of voice, I might be able to tell you if you could benefit from training, or not.”
She laughed. “Where am I supposed to get training? I’m always moving, not to mention always broke! Well, I suppose I could make it through one short song, if it would please you.”
“Very much. Please, begin.” I gestured at one of the chairs, encouraging her to sit.
“I prefer to stand, thanks.” As she took her first breath I could see that she had SOME training, even if it was self-training. She stood straight, and breathed with her whole lungs. And I could see that it had hurt her to do so. Erik, you bloody, stupid, selfish idiot! You forgot about her ribs, and she even tried to remind you, but you insisted she sing. Stop her now. But I couldn’t. I had to know if she was worth wasting energy on giving lesson to or not. I had missed that, as well, after Madeline had left.
Alas, my love, you do me wrong
To cast me out discourteously.
And, I have loved you for so long,
Delighting in your company.
Greensleeves was all my joy.
Greensleeves was my delight.
Greensleeves was my heart of gold.
And who, but my lady, Greensleeves?
Her voice was pretty enough. It was a rich alto with a slight burr that gave her a bit of a breathy quality, but not quite enough for her to have a whiskey voice. But she sang with almost no emotion at all. There was no point in singing if you don’t feel it, and apparently no one had taught this girl that.
I wanted to lower my head into my hands, but I continued watching politely as she took a deep breath to being the second verse. She closed her eyes.
To my surprise and delight, instead of the second verse she sang only the melody in mono-syllables of ‘oo’ and ‘ah’ with all the emotion I could have ever hoped. She began to sway slightly to the music her mouth wide open and singing, eyes still shut. Here was what I was looking for. Untrained, but beautiful. Then, she sang the verse again, with all the intonations and innovations she had put into the monosyllabic version.
When she was done, she opened her eyes and looked shyly at the floor. “I told you it wouldn’t be any good,” she said quietly.
“Actually, my dear, it was quite lovely.” Her head jerked up to look at me. “Would you be willing to let me train you, while you’re here, at least?” I was very eager to get my hands on her voice. It would never be operatic lead quality, but perhaps for smaller roles, or musicals, and certainly more than adequate for ‘singing in the streets.’ And we could sing together, after a time.
“I’d like that very much!” Her eyes glowed in pleasant surprise. “When can we start?”
“Tomorrow morning, I think. You probably shouldn’t have even sung just now, but I’m a selfish man. I apologize.” That made two apologies in one evening.
“It’s alright, I like to sing, and my side didn’t hurt that bad.” She was teasing me again, but she had a point.
“You should probably rest now, you’ve had a long and, ahem, painful day. Why don’t you take a hot bath in your room and I’ll leave a tray with dinner on it outside your door?” It was more than I’d normally do, but I felt I owed Sorcha for the pain she had been through that day.
“Mmmm, a bath would be heavenly right now.”
“Excellent. Oh, here,” I handed her a bottle off the side of the organ and we began to walk down the hall. “Gargle a bit of this when you wake up and then meet me in the music room. It’ll clear out your throat and you’ll sing before breakfast so your pipes are pristine without the influence of food or caffeine.” It was the same schedule Madeline had been on when she had stayed with me, but it had worked for her, why not for Sorcha? I stopped outside her door, but she kept walking.
“Where are you going?”
“To get my stuff. I left it in the foyer, where you told me to.”
“You won’t need it. I’ll provide everything you could need.” The room had been stocked with all sorts of feminine necessities and niceties, from clothing to makeup, when Madeline had resided there, and that had not been changed. Also, I had a feeling Sorcha wouldn’t leave without her stuff, even if she had the opportunity, and I wanted to ensure she’d keep her promise to stay a week.
“I doubt you can supply everything I’d need. There are a few things I need from my bag.”
“Like what.”
“Let me get it, and I’ll show you.”
“Here, I’ll get it,” I sighed. I didn’t want her to do herself any more harm lifting that heavy thing today. “You see your room.”
She nodded and opened the door. My breath caught in my throat as the image of Madeline opening that door superimposed itself over Sorcha. Then, I turned away to get the bag.