Chapter 1
Having seen my last patient for the day, I asked my receptionist to close the office and returned to our flat in Saint Helier where we had been living for a year.
My young wife, Kathleen, was standing by the driveway when I drove up. “Allan, Mr. Doyle called and we can pick up the keys today. I’m so excited about our new house and I want to go through every room again.”
“Then let's go to the real estate office.”
Kathleen joined me in our old Ford and we took off.
“Oh, isn’t it wonderful? Our dream has come true!”
After picking up the keys, we proceeded to our new dwelling and with a proprietary feeling, I drove up the asphalt driveway.
Kathleen and I were both enthusiastic about the rambling old house we had purchased only a few days ago.
Kathleen dashed out of the car and skipped to the garden. She longed for our own house with a garden and a picket fence ever since we left London a year ago. While our flat was a pleasant place to live, she wanted a house now that our son was older.
“Won’t the garden be good for Shaun?” she asked with a big smile. “We’ll have a real home, and you’ll love it, you’ll see.”
“The inspector showed me a leak in the roof. He didn’t think it was serious, but I’m still concerned it might be a bigger job to fix it than he thinks.”
“Well, we can’t expect an old house to be perfect.” Kathleen’s cheerful optimism was contagious. “We got it at such a good price that we can afford to fix the few minor things that are broken.”
“A few minor things? I’m talking about the roof that is supposed to shelter us from rain and snow.” Kathleen was fey and fanciful so I had to be the realistic one in the family. I adored my sensitive wife and I loved seeing her so happy.
“The roof will only leak if it rains.”
“Kathleen, if it rains enough it will ruin the house.”
Kathleen ignored my pessimistic remark.
“Oh, Alan, look at the garden. I’m going to start spring planting early. We’ll plant flower beds and bushes and a hedge and…”
“…We have enough trees,” I said. I turned and studied the slate roof. It looked solid enough, and the windows stared at me like huge black eyes. “Let’s go inside and take a closer look at the rooms.”
Kathleen, who had been looking at the garden came to me and we walked to the front door. I fumbled with the keys and managed to open it.
“I want to see all the rooms before it gets dark,” Kathleen said. “I’ll let you choose the master bedroom if you stop looking so worried.”
“I’m not worried,” I said. “Good grief, this place has four stories if you count the basement and the attic. What are we going to do with all this space?”
The size didn’t faze Kathleen. We walked up the wide stairs to the second floor and Kathleen pointed to a large room on the right.
“This could be a good place for our bedroom. Shaun can have the room opposite.”
We continued to choose rooms for different purposes, and when we finished on the second floor, we wound up in the attic.
“These used to be servant’s quarters in the old days,” I said. “When people could afford household help.”
“I don’t see any leak here,” Kathleen said.
Since I didn't either, I decided to investigate later, and we went downstairs.
“Isn’t it wonderful that they left the piano for us?”
“I’m sure it's out of tune after all these years.”
“Then we’ll get it tuned. I’m just grateful they left it because they’re so hard to get. I want to play it.”
So down she flew with a dizzying speed. By now I was so amused I wasn’t surprised when I saw her sitting at the piano, playing with the keys.
“It’s in tune! Now I know why I felt at home and why I had to have this house.”
“There must have been a musical family living here,” I said. “Mr. Doyle mentioned a name, but I can’t remember it.”
Kathleen nodded.
“The Adlers. Mr. Doyle said they were Jewish and were forced to abandon the house during World War Two. Later relatives reclaimed it, but I understand nobody lived in it since then.”
“Adler? I know of a famous violinist called Felix Adler. I wonder if they’re related?”
“We must ask Mr. Doyle,” Kathleen said.
The thought intrigued me, and I agreed to investigate. I telephoned Mr. Doyle the next morning. He refused to discuss the property on the phone, but agreed to have lunch with me on the following day. I picked him up in our old Ford and we went to La Petite Pomme for lunch, a favourite place of mine. When we were seated, I asked Mr. Doyle to tell me about the previous occupants of the house we had just purchased.
He shook his head.
“I don’t know much about the Adlers. I believe Mr. Adler was a musician or composer, something like that.”
My curiosity made me persist.
“What happened to them? Did they move? Where to?”
Mr. Doyle hesitated, so I ordered another round of scotch, hoping the drink would make him more talkative. He removed his glasses and took a sip of his drink while patting his balding head with the other hand. “Well, the war was a bad time for everyone,” he said at length. “All vehicles and bicycles were confiscated, and the only way we could get around was on foot or on horseback.”
“So I’ve heard, Mr. Doyle. I also understand newspapers were controlled and radios were removed from the citizens.”
I realized my luncheon companion would take his time telling the story and I had to be patient if I wanted to hear it.
“Yes, it’s true. Radios were confiscated and we were out of touch with the rest of the world. We only heard German propaganda, but some people hid their radios to get news from the BBC. Mind you, hiding radios was a dangerous thing during the war because punishments were severe if one got caught.”
For a while, we ate in silence.
“For a long time, there was no food at all and the islanders starved,” Mr. Doyle said, touching his mouth with a napkin. “You know the British abandoned the islands to the Nazis, don’t you? At least the Nazi garrison had to starve with us.” He resumed eating.
“Did you feel Britain abandoned you?” I asked. “Maybe it had no choice.”
Mr. Doyle’s pale face turned red from anger. “‘Let them rot’, Prime Minister Churchill said about us. Of course, he meant the Nazis, but the islanders were included.”
“How long did that go on?”
He had eaten his sole meunière and laid aside his napkin.
“Oh, for a long time. Despite the deprivation, we were better off than other countries. Of course, because of inadequate food, excessive labour, frequent beatings, poor living conditions, no medical help and insufficient clothing, considerable numbers of people died. There was a chance to evacuate and go to the British mainland in the beginning, and most Guernsey islanders took advantage of the British ships, but on the whole, Jersey islanders preferred to stay.”
“Is that when the Adler family left?” I asked.
Mr. Doyle frowned. “They were Jews. What do you think happened to Jews under the Nazis?”
I looked at him. “You don’t mean... but he was a famous violinist?”
“That made no difference to the Nazis. They considered the Jews a subhuman species, and tried to exterminate the race. Fiendish tortures were inflicted on Jews before they were shot or gassed. In a way, those who went to the gas chambers on arrival in a death camp were fortunate, if I can use that word, because they escaped the incredible horrors their tormentors devised for them. Many were shot for the amusement of their captors and those who weren’t starved and worked to death, wound up in the crematoriums regardless.”
I felt sick but waited for him to go on.
“The Nazis rounded up the seventeen Jews on the Channel Islands and took them to France. I don’t know what their ultimate fate was, but if you are so interested, you may want to speak to Mr. Morgan, a police officer at that time. He’s retired and lives on the island.”
“Do you have his address or telephone number?”
Mr. Doyle shook his head.
“Look in the directory, he should be listed. His first name is Jack.”
When I got back to our flat, Kathleen was anxious to know about my lunch, so I told her everything that transpired.
“My God, do you think the Adlers are dead?”
“I don’t know, but I’m going to see Mr. Morgan and see what he can tell me.” I went to his house the next day. Since the directory only listed an address and no telephone number, I could only hope he would be at home.
Mr. Morgan turned out to be a friendly man although the years had put too many pounds on his sturdy frame. He opened the door himself and asked me to enter. His equally plump wife served us tea in the living room, and he asked me what he could do for me.
“I have only been in Saint Helier for one year,” I said. “My name is Alan Courtney and I’m a physician here. My wife and I recently bought the old Adler house. We were interested in knowing about the Adlers since we have heard so much about Mr. Felix Adler.”
Mr. Morgan asked me if I took sugar in my tea and I asked for two lumps.
“I don’t know how much I can tell you. Nobody knew them well, maybe because they were so absorbed by music. We could hear the violin and the piano at all hours, but few people were invited into their house.”
“Were you ever in the Adler house yourself, Mr. Morgan?”
“Oh, yes, many times. Mrs. Adler was a lovely lady and she sometimes invited me in for a lemonade on a hot day when I made my rounds. She was the one who played the piano.”
I took a sip of tea while I formulated my next question. I didn’t want to sound too eager, but I became more and more interested in the family whose house we would soon occupy.
“I assumed someone in the Adler family played the piano because there’s a Steinway grand in the living room. My wife, a pianist herself, is delighted, but I wondered why they would leave such a valuable instrument behind.”
Mr. Morgan’s wrinkled face became sad. “I suppose I can explain up to a point. But there is little to tell. I had the unpleasant duty of delivering a message to Mr. Adler from the Nazi command. They had to report to the Nazi authorities on the following day. You see, Alan...may I call you that? The Nazi’s used us for such duties, and there was nothing we could do about it.”
“They must have been alarmed,” I said and again, that sick feeling came over me as memories of the Nazi’s returned. “Do you know what happened to them after they reported?”
“No, I don’t, but I can guess. I heard they were taken to France on a ship, and I never saw them again. But I know people who were taken to France by the Nazi’s were always transported to Auschwitz-Birkenau where they were gassed with other Jews.”
I wondered if I dared ask Jack for something stronger to drink, but Jack stared into the distance, and I didn’t want to interrupt his thoughts.
“I’m afraid they’re dead, Alan,” he said in a flat voice.
I thanked him and took my leave, there was nothing more to say. Jack escorted me to the door and asked me to drop in anytime. I promised I would and climbed into my Ford.
Our dispositions were less than cheerful the day we moved into our new house because of the knowledge I gained from Jack Morgan.
“I’ll never be able to play on the Adler piano now that I know.” Kathleen sighed and continued sorting the bedclothes with me so we could sleep in comfort in our new home.
When I was awakened by an unfamiliar sound, I sat up and listened. I thought I heard the wind, but there was no wind that night. The sound grew louder and I recognized the haunting strains of a violin. I woke Kathleen with a gentle touch and she rubbed her eyes.
“Where’s the music coming from?” she asked.
“I’m not sure.”
“Is it him?” she asked. “Maybe he’s come back. It's Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto. Oh, how lovely.”
I felt my pulse race and my skin tingle. I tried to remain calm for Kathleen’s sake, but a million questions ran through my head. Who was playing? Where was the music coming from? The sounds were so beautiful and poignant they made me shiver. I took Kathleen’s hand and saw her cheeks were wet with tears.
“Alan, let’s find the source of the music.”
We put on our robes and searched.
“The attic,” Kathleen whispered.
We stole up the stairs. “He’s changed to Zigeunerweisen,” I breathed. “Pablo de Sarasate.”
Kathleen shivered the way she always did when she heard music that touched her heart.
When we reached the attic, the music stopped. We turned on the light, peaked in through the door, but all we could see was a violin case on the floor.
“He was here, I just know it,” Kathleen said, pulling the robe closer around herself.
Kathleen let go of my hand and entered the room. I watched her and marvelled at her courage. She bent over the case, opened it and looked inside.
I went over to her and with care I removed the instrument from its dusty black case. It seemed in perfect condition. The lid had protected the violin from dust and time. I put on my glasses and peered inside. “I can barely make it out, but it seems to say ‘Antonius Stradiuarius Cremonenfis, Faciebat Anno 1704.’ It also has a small stamp next to the date. Who would leave such a treasure behind? I wonder if it’s a copy, there were many made.” “This is no copy. I can feel it. Oh, Alan, I knew this house would bring us luck!”
I smiled at her. Her auburn hair shone in the overhead light and her blue green eyes were dreamy. “Luck?” I asked. “This is a treasure! We can’t just leave it in the attic.” “It’s his, it belongs to him.”
We stood, staring at the silhouette of the old violin case.
“How do you know it was him?” I asked.
“Of course it was Felix Adler. Who else could it be?”
“Will you be afraid to be alone here while I’m at the office?” I asked. “I have some patients to see in the morning, but I’ll try to get home early.”
“Why should I be afraid? I plan on playing her piano and Shaun will keep me company,” Kathleen said and smiled. Shaun was only seven years old.
“Darling, do you think Shaun heard the music? It occurred to me it might have awakened and frightened him.”
“Our son can sleep through an earthquake.”
Kathleen and I gave each other a troubled glance and went downstairs to talk.
Chapter 2
We didn’t hear violin music for the next three nights. Then, on the fourth night, we heard the moving Elegy by Massenet.
Kathleen refused to move. She wanted to listen to the piece until he finished playing.
“When he plays it, it sounds like a lament,” she said, brushing away tears.
We stayed downstairs because we were not yet ready to confront what might await us in the attic. I called Shaun for supper. Soon he came running down, dressed in his teddy bear pyjamas.
“Were you in bed already?” I asked. “It's too early for bed.”
“I was in the attic, listening to the man play his violin.”
I jumped up. “What man? Did you see someone up there?” While I was pondering this new revelation, the music started again. “I have to see what’s going on,” I said. I turned to my wife and son. “You stay here,” I ran to the fireplace, grabbed a poker, and dashed up the stairs to the attic.
I crept up the last few steps, approached the open door and stopped cold. I saw a shimmering figure, dressed in striped gray pyjamas in the middle of the room. His eyes were closed as his slender fingers touched the violin strings. It was obvious he didn’t see me. I stood there, frozen, poker in hand until he finished playing. He opened his eyes and looked straight at me. He put the violin into its case and closed the lid. I felt Kathleen’s hand on my shoulder and felt her glance around me. The violinist turned and walked out through the wall as if he were going for a stroll.
“Oh, my god, that must be Felix Adler!” Kathleen exclaimed, full of wonder. “That was the second movement of Wieniawsky's Violin Concerto in d minor. How beautiful his playing is. I can’t believe I’ve heard him play!”
“I wonder why he walked out like that,” I asked. “He can’t be afraid of us, can he?”
Kathleen burst into tears and I held her while she composed herself.
“I’d like to know why he left so fast. Did he feel threatened in some way, do you think?”
I was going to answer her when I heard Shaun’s voice behind us.
“Why’s Mommy crying? It's all right, Mommy, the man didn’t hurt me or anything.”
“Weren’t you afraid, darling?” I asked.
“Why should I be afraid? He was nice to me, Dad, and even offered to teach me to play the violin.”
I turned to face Shaun, letting go of Kathleen. “Are you serious, Shaun?” I heard a thump behind me, and when I turned around, Kathleen was lying on the floor. I bent over her, but her eyes were open.
“I’m all right, Allan. I didn’t ....well....I didn’t expect to see him.”
I was concerned about my delicate wife, sometimes she could be so strong, but right now she seemed very fragile. “Please, Darling, let me take you to bed. You’re as white as a sheet.”
I helped her up and she tried to shrug it off.
“I’m going to play her piano tomorrow.” Kathleen wiped her eyes. “I’ll play what he played tonight. I hope he’ll hear it and know he’s welcome in his own home.”
On the following day, Kathleen did as promised. She played “Massenet’s Elegy” and “Wieniawsky's Violin Concerto No.2” on the piano. Through the window, she saw the neighbours stop to listen as they must have done when the last occupants played. Kathleen later told me what happened.
“Shaun was mussing his hair while he was putting together a puzzle on the floor next to me, and when I stopped playing, I went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. While the water heated, I heard piano music and stopped to listen. It came from our living room, but I didn’t recognize the composition and I went to investigate. I didn’t see Shaun. Instead, a beautiful dark-haired woman sat on the piano stool, concentrating on the music as her fingers danced over the keys.”
“Where was Shaun?” I interrupted.
“That’s what I asked her. She said Shaun was with Adam and Julia and they took the puzzle to the dining room table. Of course, I went to the dining room, and there I saw three children engaged in fitting puzzle pieces together. I returned to the living room and to the music. I put my hand on the woman’s shoulder and asked her what she was playing. She said it was the Adler violin concerto in E minor. I asked her to keep playing while I went to check on the children. They were still in the dining room, and I asked Shaun to look after his guests while I talked to their mother. He told me they were Jews, and that’s why they wore a yellow star.”
“Darling, how could you leave him alone with ghosts?”
“But Alan, we have heard their father. The ghosts are his family.”
“Oh, God,” I said. “What happened then?”
Kathleen sat down on the sofa and motioned for me to sit next to her. After I obeyed, she went on talking.
“Well, I went back to Mrs. Adler and pulled up a chair so I could sit next to the piano. I asked her where she got the sheet music, and she told me it was in the drawer in the piano bench. I joined her and after a while, I was able to follow her. We played the Adler concerto with four hands. When we finished, I asked her if she came to our house because she knew her husband came here. She nodded and said ‘I thought he would return because he left his Aventon Strad behind.”
“Oh, Kathleen, why isn’t she with her husband? Wait, let me pour myself a drink because I have a feeling I’m going to need it.” I got up and went to the small cupboard where bottles were stored and poured brandy into a balloon glass. Kathleen waited for me to return to the sofa before she went on.
“She seemed to have a need to talk, and I listened. Well, it seems she and her husband were separated when they got off the cattle train at Auschwitz Birkenau. The Nazis told the exhausted passengers to form two lines, women and children to the right and men and boys over sixteen to the left. She and her young children were forced to go to the right and Felix Adler went to the left. The Nazis commanded all women and children to the showers to be deloused while the men waited their turn. Gabrielle Adler and her children had no choice but to obey, and in a few minutes, they found themselves in a room with showerheads. She doesn’t remember much after that because the gas was let into the room, and she only recalls people screaming and weeping before everything became black. She says her children were too confused to remember that horrible scene.”
I gulped my brandy in large swallows while I listened to her. Kathleen looked so calm I was surprised.
“How could you discuss that with Mrs. Adler as if you were discussing the purchase of a new hat? I didn’t know you had nerves of steel.”
Kathleen looked at me with infinite sadness in her eyes. “Oh, darling, I didn’t discuss it. I only listened. I told her that her husband was here and played his violin. She started crying and told me she wasn’t able to reach him, and asked me if we could help. She stayed in the camp despite being dead, to be near him. She said they kept her husband for hard labour and forced him to play in the camp orchestra whenever the Nazis wanted it. The Nazis forced them to play, and if anyone had dared refuse, they would have been shot on the spot. That’s how she saw one of them shoot him one night when he was too tired to play and made several mistakes. She said Dr. Josef Mengele, whom they called the Angel of Death, attended that evening’s concert. Gabrielle watched as Mengele stepped over her husband’s body which was in his way. She thought she would meet Felix then, but she didn’t. Now she fears she and her husband are parted forever. Whether it’s true or not, she doesn’t know, but she has never seen him since the night he was murdered.”
I put my arm around my wife. She dried her tears and put her head on my shoulder.
“Alan, I told her he plays in our attic, but she said she can’t see or hear him. All she has left of him is her half of the yellow star he tore up on the train to Auschwitz. What can we do to help her? She’s heartbroken. If we can see him, why can’t she?”
“Maybe because we’re in the world of the living,” I said, trying to comfort her. “Or maybe it's something else. Is she coming back here?”
“She says she could never leave while her husband comes here. She hasn’t given up hope.”
“I wish I could’ve seen her,” I said. “At least I could’ve shown her the attic and the violin.”
“She left very fast. She collected her children and walked out the door and down the driveway. By the time they reached the trees, I couldn’t see them anymore.”
Chapter 3
A few concerts later, when Kathleen and I were relaxing, Shaun came to the living room looking tired.
“Why aren’t you in bed?” I asked.
“Dad, I want to ask you for something. Can I have a yellow star?”
“Why do you want that? Come here and sit down.” I patted my knee for Shaun to sit. “First tell me for whom the star is.”
“I want the kind of star Adam and Julia have,” Shaun said.
“Is this for the man in the attic?”
Shaun got off my knee. “Yes, Mr. Adler. He only has half a star and it's old and wrinkled.”
Kathleen stood up and held Shaun by the shoulders. “Did you go up to the attic again?” she asked.
“Yes, Mommy. He plays almost every night and I want to listen,” Shaun said, his face innocent and devoid of deception. “Didn’t you hear him play? I go up and talk to him.”
Kathleen and I looked at each other.
Kathleen smiled. “Shaun, I’m sure I can get some yellow felt and cut you out a star. I may even have some in my sewing basket.”
“Thank you, Mommy.” Shaun hugged us and scampered off.
“It's interesting that he was never scared of the ghostly apparition. He seems to think it's natural to hear music from our attic. I don’t like his staying up nights, though,” Kathleen said. “He mustn’t neglect his studies.”
“Why should he be more afraid of a ghost than we are? Felix seems to have moved in for good, and Shaun may as well get used to him. It's strange that Gabrielle hasn’t been here after that first time. Well, we may as well go to bed. Who knows if we’ll get a full night’s sleep. It's not as if we had a program for his concerts.”
Kathleen smiled and rose from the sofa where we were sitting. “I’m glad he comes at all, and no doubt Gabrielle will show up one of these days. Alan, do you think we should take a chair and a table to the attic? Maybe even a ghost likes to sit sometimes.”
“I thought of that. I can buy him some sheet music and leave it on the table. Perhaps I can even get him a new copy of the Adler concerto.”
“And some other violin concertos as well,” Kathleen said. “Maybe he knows them all by heart, but it would be a nice gesture.”
“I’ll get the things together tomorrow. Will you remember to tell Della to dust in the attic when she comes for cleaning tomorrow?”
“I already told her to clean the attic three times a week,” Kathleen said and took my hand. “Come, darling, I’m tired.”
“You know, I think we should call them spirits instead of ghosts. Ghost sounds so Halloweenish, but these are real souls. Sometimes he’s more real to me than the people I meet and the patients I have.”
The next day I took the furniture up, and added some paper and a pencil to the sheet music.
When Shaun got up, Kathleen handed him the star she had cut from a piece of yellow felt.
“Oh, thank you, Mommy,” Shaun said. “Mr. Adler only has half a star and now he can throw it away.”
“Shaun, you can leave the star on the table with a note, but I don’t want you going to the attic at night.”
I knew Shaun would disobey her, but I said nothing. Sometimes a man has to do what he thinks is right. Sure enough, that night I watched Shaun sneak out of his bedroom and creep up the attic stairs. I didn’t say anything, because I knew he thought it was the right and proper thing to do. I met him when he came down. He gave me a guilty look.
“I couldn’t help it. Mr. Adler’s star looks so sad and ugly.”
“What happened?”
“We talked,” Shaun said, flushed with excitement. “Dad, he took the star and pinned it on with a safety pin.
Shaun hesitated. “He asked me again if I wanted to learn the violin and he said he would teach me.”
I was stunned. A ghost... spirit teach my son to play the violin? Well, why not? Why shouldn’t he be taught by the greatest violinist of his time?
“We have to talk to Mommy about it,” I said at length.
Shaun dropped his eyes. I saw how tired he was and I tucked him into bed. In the morning, I told Kathleen what had occurred.
“I thought something like this would happen.”
“Well, what do you think? Should we let Shaun take lessons from Felix Adler?”
“Only if Mr. Adler consents to teach him earlier. Yes, I think it's a marvellous idea. Where could we find a better teacher? I’m so pleased Shaun has inherited our love for music.”
Just then Shaun joined us at the breakfast table. He started talking before anyone could say a word. “I know what I have to do. I have to take the star you made to Mr. Adler so he can throw away the sad and ugly one he has now. Will you let me take lessons from him? I can give him the star and tell him when I see him.”
“Ask him if he’ll teach you in the garden...”
“I will, Mommy.” Shaun grinned at me. “I’ll be able to play the songs you like so much. You know the one about ‘Beautiful Dreamer’ and ‘Flow Gently Sweet Afton’?”
“Heaven help us,” Kathleen muttered but she smiled. “My son the genius.”
“Well, maybe not right away, but Mr. Adler promised me I would play as well as he does if I practice all the time.”
“If that’s what he promised, I hope we won’t have to listen to a screeching violin for long,” Kathleen said with a sigh. “Drink your orange juice, Shaun. You’ll be late for school if you don’t hurry. You’re not a famous violinist yet.”
Chapter 4
After Shaun came home from school, the negotiating began.
“Tonight, please, Mommy,” Shaun said. “I have to meet Mr. Adler.”
Kathleen told me that during the day she became more and more enthusiastic about the proposal Felix Adler made. Since Shaun was more interested in the violin than the piano, she couldn’t have found a better teacher than the spirit in our own attic. She didn’t put any obstacles in Shaun’s way and gave him permission to go to the attic for a short while as soon as he heard the music begin.
When I came home, I was pleased to hear Kathleen and I were in accord. Shaun was so excited he was unable to eat and pushed the food around on his plate. “I’ll make up for it tomorrow, Mommy. Tonight, I only want to talk to Mr. Adler.”
It was a restless evening for Shaun. When we heard the opening notes of Caprice Viennois, Shaun’s door opened and we listened to his footsteps as he climbed the stairs. Now that he had permission to go up, he wore his slippers which made a louder sound than his socks. Kathleen smiled at me because neither of us could sleep. Without realizing it, we waited for the violin music to stop.
“I can’t wait to hear the news when Shaun comes back,” I said.
Kathleen didn’t pay attention to me. Her head was on the pillow and her eyes were closed as she listened to the music. The music stopped, and a short while later, we heard Shaun come down. He stuck in his head through our half opened door.
“Well, what did he say?” I asked.
Shaun came and sat on the edge of our bed.
“He said he’ll come at nine o’clock as often as he can. He also said I must be ready and practice my scales when he isn’t here. Can I, Mommy, please?”
Kathleen looked at him and was about to speak when the violin started again. “Shh. I want to hear the tune he’s playing.”
“It's different...” I started and then I recognized the melody. “It's my song for you.”
She nodded. “’I’ll Take You Home Again, Kathleen.’”
We listened while he played the melody which we both loved and remembered from our courting days. Kathleen didn’t even notice Shaun was still there, so absorbed was she. But then he started playing what seemed like a love song, and it was so sad and soft it made Kathleen cry.
“I don’t recognize it,” she whispered. “Maybe he wrote it for her. It sounds heart wrenching. Oh, God, how he must miss her.”
My wife seemed to be unaware of her surroundings, so I whispered to Shaun to go to bed and I would come and tuck him in in a few minutes. Shaun nodded and left.
Mr. Adler’s performance that night included several melodies, all of them romantic and doleful at the same time, some known to us and others not.
“Is he sadder tonight than usual?” Kathleen asked. “Is he trying to tell us something, do you think?”
“Oh, I don’t think so. He must know we would help him if we could. Judging from the music he plays, he’s sad all the time.”
Kathleen was whiping her tears when I left to tucked Shaun in. After I returned we were both able to go to sleep.
The next evening, Shaun’s violin lessons began. Kathleen turned on the garden lanterns so they would have plenty of light. We heard nothing at all and Kathleen put aside the earplugs she held. I found the whole business diverting, but I knew how Kathleen suffered when she heard discordant musical notes.
I looked out the window and what I saw touched me to the core. I turned to Kathleen. “Darling, I want you to see this. Come to the window.”
“Look, Mr. Adler is teaching Shaun how to tuck the violin under his chin and how to hold the bow with his right hand.”
We stood with smiles on our faces, watching Shaun’s first lesson. He was making such an effort that we could see the tip of his tongue. A shimmering spirit was teaching our little boy. Shaun was concentrating, and Mr. Adler spoke too low for us to hear the words. It was a tender scene, and I couldn’t help thinking our unusual violinist might have taught his own son in the same way.
I was helping Kathleen wash the dishes when Shaun came in. “Oh, Mommy, it was the most exciting time I ever had.” His eyes shone.
Kathleen handed me the dish towel and turned to Shaun. “I’m sure it was, Sweetheart, but now it's time for bed.”
As the weeks went by, there were fewer performances in the attic because Mr. Adler was teaching. Kathleen continued to play her piano every day, and she admitted she waited for Mrs. Adler.
“Maybe our melancholy violinist has found a purpose,” I said to my wife. “He might see Adam in Shaun.”
“I know he’ll always miss his children,” Kathleen said. “Is Gabrielle ever coming back, I wonder?”
“I hope she will,” I said and went to read my newspaper. Our lives had to go on and we were still young and alive. At the same time, I knew how much our lives had changed since we bought the Adler house. We could never be the same carefree people we were just a few months ago.
After about a month, Kathleen and I watched a comedy on television during Shaun’s music lesson. We heard music coming from the garden, and Kathleen turned off the television’s sound.
“Is that Shaun playing?” she asked, astounded, and moved towards the window. “Yes, it is, how can he be so good after only a few weeks?”
“It's because of the teacher he has. Didn’t you say this man is the greatest?”
“Oh, Alan, listen. He’s playing ‘I’ll take You Home Again, Kathleen.’ He promised, remember?”
“Of course I remember. What’s next, the Adler violin concerto?” I smiled with pride.
I joined Kathleen by the window. I have no adequate words to describe the next few minutes, but they are forever etched in our hearts. We heard Shaun cry out and say something to his teacher. Mr. Adler looked in the direction Shaun pointed with his bow and appeared bewildered. Then he looked sideways and even behind his back but shook his head. Shaun kept on pointing. It seemed he wanted his teacher to see something. Mr. Adler put down his violin, and his hands hung by his sides, his fists clenched. They were talking back and forth, and all of a sudden, Mr. Adler put his hand into his pyjama pocket and took out a piece of yellow cloth which he handed to Shaun.
“I wonder what’s going on down there?” I said to Kathleen. “They look so agitated.” And then we knew. We watched as Gabrielle Adler walked through the hedge into the garden, took the piece of yellow cloth Shaun handed her, removed a similar piece from her own pocket and matched the two pieces together. As soon as she did it, she started walking toward Felix while he stood frozen, tears streaming down his face. When she reached him, he sank to his knees, and she bent down and embraced him. There was disbelief and wonder in his eyes as he returned her embrace. When he saw the children, his eyes lit up with understanding.
“Oh, my God,” Kathleen breathed. “They’re together at last.”
I felt as if all the horrors we had heard about were swept away, and I put my arms around my sobbing wife.
“No more tears, my darling. No more tears.”
The End
©Amy Thompson
When Millie told me that as she walked out of the country auction, she put her faith in the antique blue pitcher she purchased. That it would make up for our strained marriage, our almost empty bank account, and even my bad moods. I scoffed. “How can a pitcher do that? What we need is a miracle.”
