The Orchid Concerto, L. Avery Brown [best sci fi novels of all time .TXT] 📗

play something I knew by heart and I know that by heart. But I can sight read.”

 

“Oh you can?” Pitney rummaged through a pile of old sheet music and pulled out a piece that had a fairly simple run. “Read this.”

 

Anita stared at the page then closed her eyes and moved her fingers on the neck making sure she knew where the notes were. She put the bow to the strings and played. It wasn’t perfect. She lacked any sense of timing and technique but she knew the notes; knew where they were without struggling too much and that was impressive to Pitney.

 

 “Nice. Raw. But nice.” He held her string hand and stared at her fingers. “A good violinist has calluses. Your fingers are soft. You need to toughen them. There might be a nugget of talent trapped inside you. But you'll never know unless you practice more. A lot more. At least ninety minutes a day. Do that and you might make tenth chair.”

 

He’d just given Anita a compliment, albeit a backhanded sort of compliment, but it was a compliment nonetheless. And anyone who knew him knew that a compliment from Pitney Dunkirk was not an easy thing for anyone to receive. Only instead of seeing her smile, a sad look crossed her face.

 

Gretchen cleared her throat. “Anita would practice from sunrise to sunset if she could but it costs three hundred dollars to rent one of the school’s violins over the summer. Elaine can’t afford that.”

 

“But I’ve got a friend, Cho, she lets me play her learner when I go to her house. It’s smaller than your Fischesser and doesn’t sound near as awesome as the nice ones the other kids in the orchestra have. But it’s okay. At least I won’t be rusty when I get back to school. My mom can rent one from the school for thirty dollars a month. So maybe if I toughen up my fingers like you suggested and try to practice more I’ll make it to tenth chair.”

 

Pitney walked to the doorway. “Maybe. Now, if you don’t mind. Please put the Fischesser away and do so carefully." He watched the teen carefully put the elegant instrument in its case. "Anita, I wish you the best of luck. Gretchen, please see to it that the room is dusted and then locked.”

 

“Yes, Mr. Dunkirk.” Gretchen turned to Anita and spoke just above a whisper. “Maybe we can take the train into the city and find you a violin at a pawn shop. I see all sorts of instruments in the windows. I'll bet I can do a little haggling to get a better price.”

 

Parkinson’s might have gone after Pitney’s muscles but he was trained to listen and heard every word that spilled from his housekeeper’s mouth. “You will do no such thing.” He walked across the room and sat on a small couch by the window that looked out onto the greenhouse. “You will not darken my home with some… some pawned pseudo instrument." He looked down at his hands knowing his playing days were over. "For the duration of your visit, you may practice right here, in this room using the Fischesser since that’s the one you gravitated towards.”

 

Anita gasped. “Really? Seriously?”

 

“Yes. But there will be no Clementine or whatever else you memorized. You’ll play real music. And,” he glanced back out at the greenhouse, “I will tutor you. Further, if you prove to me that you have it within you, I’ll give you the Fischesser. It's not like I can play it. And I've got no one to whom I can bequeath it so instead of letting it sit untouched in its case until after I'm gone and its sold at an estate sale or something, it ought to go to someone who will appreciate it." He stared at Anita. "You will appreciate it if I hand it over to you, won't you?" 

 

"Oh, my God, yes. I would... will.

 

"Good. Who knows? By the end of this summer you can take first chair and tell everyone you are Pitney Dunkirk’s protégé.”

 

Gretchen started to cry and Anita stared dumbstruck.

 

Seeing the looks on Anita's face, the excitement that danced in her eyes was the moment Pitney Dunkirk realized he didn’t have to play the violin to love it. He just needed someone with whom he could share his love of the instrument. And for the first time in nearly a year he felt the joy that music brings start to course through him once again. “Well, don’t just stand there. You’ve got a lot to learn.”

 

He watched Anita open the case and wondered why, out of the twelve violins in the room, she chose that instrument as it had been stashed in a corner for years. “Of all the violins in here  why did you choose the Fischesser?”

 

Anita pulled a piece of paper from the case. “When I opened it, I pulled it out, I felt like it was meant for me. See.” She handed him a small card he'd forgotten he'd put in it so many years ago: Pitney, thank you for the beautiful Miltoniopus. I will think of you each time I look at it. All my love, Anita.”

Imprint

Publication Date: 01-24-2015

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
To all those who have lost something only to realize it was never lost - simply misplaced.