A Noble Cause by Kristen SaBerre

Author:Kristen SaBerre
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Darby Creek, Family & Relationships, Fantasy, Fiction, Hi/Lo, High Interest, High-low fiction, Humor, Reluctant Readers, Royalty, Royalty, Royal, Royals, Romance, Family, A Noble Cause, Coming of age, Families, Kristen SaBerre, Love, Music, Musician, Musicians, Noble Cause, Piano, Piano player, Relationships, SaBerre, Singer, Singers, Violin, Violinist, Violins
Publisher: Lerner Publishing Group
Published: 2018-07-31T16:00:00+00:00

8

I listen in silence as he plays a fast song. His eyes are closed tight with focus as he draws the bow over the strings in quick strokes. He is spectacular.

When he’s done, I applaud. He jumps, startled. He sees me and goes red. “My lady, I’m so sorry,” he says, backing away. “I know I shouldn’t be here—”

“It’s okay. I’m not mad.”

He stops. “You’re not?” he says, relieved.

“Are you kidding? You were awesome!”

“I know this wing is off limits, my lady, and . . . I . . . I don’t want to lose my job.”

“You won’t. Well, under two conditions. First, call me Alix,” I say, grinning. “And second, will you play with me?”

It takes him a moment to realize I’m serious. Once he does, his face lights up. “Of course,” he says, thrilled. “Piano, right?”

“Yes!”

He runs across the room and pulls a sheet off a shining, black baby grand piano.

“Wow,” I whisper, as I sit down in front of it. I’ve never played a piano this beautiful before. I slide my fingers up and down the keys then start to play.

I start with a simple chord progression. Erik picks up his bow and harmonizes with me on violin. We improvise, playing whatever sounds right in the moment, riffing off each other. After a few measures, I start to sing. No lyrics, just sounds. We don’t need words right now. Organically, when it feels right, we slow down and soften to the end. We sit quietly for a moment, watching each other.

Finally, he breaks the silence. “You’re really good. Definitely good enough to make a living as a musician.”

“That’s what I’m hoping,” I say, before I catch myself. “I mean, it’s what I was hoping, before all this happened.”

“Well, you’re better than anybody I’ve seen performing at open mic nights in Nasina, if that helps.”

“You do open mic nights?”

“Me? No.” He snorts. “I go to listen—I’m not likely to bring the house down with a violin. Maybe if I’d been around a couple centuries ago, I would’ve been a pop star of the time.”

I laugh. “How long have you been playing?”

“Since I was three,” he replies. “You?”

“Miranda says I’ve been singing since I was born. My mom used to sing to me . . .” I trail off, then shrug.

“My dad got me into violin. He used to play too.”

“Not anymore?”

Erik shoots me a confused look. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?”

He pauses for a moment to consider his words. After a few seconds he says, “My family has worked for the Valmonts for five generations. My dad was your parents’ driver. He died with them in the crash.”

I stare at him, absolutely frozen. I have no idea what to say to this.

He looks down at his feet. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I shouldn’t have brought that up. That was out of place.”

“No, it wasn’t,” I say. “I’m glad you told me. There’s so much I don’t know about this place and my past—our past.” I walk around the piano and sit with him.

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