Claiming Her by Marilyn "Mattie" Brahen

Author:Marilyn "Mattie" Brahen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fantasy, urban fantasy, religion, god, christianity
Publisher: Wildside Press LLC
Published: 2014-01-07T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 24

As if he sensed my exhaustion, Quatama gave me three days respite, waiting until the weekend before calling me back to finish reenacting the events in Old Eliom.

And on the second of those days, another mystery finally unravelled itself. Terence Dearborn’s missing music resurfaced.

Cecily Saraband never acknowledged receiving my letter, and Terence was never able to establish spirit contact with her, not even when he stood, in spirit form, right beside her, as he was to, briefly, less than five months after the discovery of his lost works. But the whole experience proved cathartic for him.

Terence hadn’t even been with me as I arrived for work that Thursday.

Willa was waiting for me as I entered the secretarial pool, her eyes shining with excitement and, before I could so much as say good morning, blurted out: “Leigh Ann! They’ve found more music by Terence Dearborn. There was an article in The Classical Forum, a newsletter we receive. And isn’t it strange, how we were wondering a while back, if he had written any other compositions?”

I blinked dumbly at her, dazed by her unexpected news.

“Oh, my,” she said, “it’s quite a surprise, isn’t it? I’m just as excited as you are!”

“My God! When did they find it?”

“Last month. They just authenticated it. His old girlfriend had been given his piano by his parents in gratitude for all she’d done for him. Apparently she married and was moving to a new home with her new husband when the piano bench fell in the moving van. She knew that Terence had composed some new work just before his death, but she never found anything written down. The lock on the bench seat broke when it fell, and there they were: three unpublished compo- sitions.”

“She never thought to look there before?”

“According to the news item, she’d forgotten that some benches have compartments under the seat. She said Dearborn preferred to work alone and undisturbed, and she’d been undergoing grief and never thought of it.”

“Oh, my,” I said, just as astounded as she was, but for reasons I couldn’t share with her. “Are they going to record his new work?”

“That’s the wonderful part. Now you’ll know why I’m so excited.” She stepped back as if to recite, her hands raised, palms outward and cupped as if to contain her surprise: “They’re debuting Dearborn’s posthumous works right here in Philadelphia at the Academy of Music. They’re going to record them live, and Bernard Lowenstein, a guest conductor from Britain, will lead the Philadelphia Orchestra!”

“Right here.” I slowly walked to my desk and sat down. “Oh, my!” Willa walked over to me, grinning at the wonder of it all. She said, “Well? You are going to go, aren’t you?”

“What? Yes, of course. If we can get tickets. Oh, my!”

“Oh, my what?” Kate came sauntering in and stood with hands on hips, casting a dubious glare my way. “Lions and tigers and bears? That’s all I hear as I’m hanging my coat up outside there. Oh, my, oh, my, oh, my.

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