At Ma’s nod, Miss Davis smiled.Well, most wouldn’t call the slight upturn at the corners of her lips a smile, but he’d been surreptitiously watching her for months, and this definitely counted.Theonly times he’d seen her actually smile was at her ma or when she sang, and even then, it was restrained.One day he would succeed in encouraging her into an unrestrained grin, but for now, he would bask in the slight upturn and in Ma’s engagement with life.
Miss Davis offered Ma a seat on the sofa nearest the piano.Tristan jumped onto Ma’s lap and demanded her attention.She obeyed, even going so far as to scratch under his chin.If Ezekiel closed his eyes, he could pretend they were at home, with Ma prepared to listen to one of his compositions while she wiggled a string for Tristan to play with.The hope they might one day again experience that joy dangled in front of him, but the fragility of it made him hesitant to grasp it.This was the most progress he’d seen from Ma in far, far too long, but how long would it last?
“I’m afraid scales are the extent of my skill, but perhaps you would enjoy a private performance from the famous Constanza Brisbane?”Miss Davis gestured to her ma.“Mum, would you mind?”
Either Miss Davis was modest or she truly didn’t believe she had the skill he’d heard.Each week, when he’d arrived during a singing lesson, he’d purposely lingered in the hall until caught by a passing nurse, all so he could listen.She was truly talented and had the potential for fame.He didn’t have many connections, but he did have one who could change her life forever.
Graham Linville.
The local librettist and impresario wanted to start his own opera company.With his knack for spotting and encouraging talent, he’d no doubt take Miss Davis on once he heard her.Ezekiel could help her prepare and provide her an advantage.After all, he was the composer for Graham’s most recent libretto.Of course, teaching her the music would require him to finish the score that was long past due.
Don’t get ahead of yourself.You’ve just gotten her to speak to you.
With her Don Giovanni statement, she’d probably think the offer a seduction ploy.Getting past that fortress of prejudice would require a cautious approach, one that wouldn’t put her on the defensive but earn him an invitation to walk through the open gate.
Mrs.Davis beamed at her daughter’s suggestion and stood with all the pride and proper stance he’d seen of any true prima donna.“It would be my honor.What do you say to a little ‘Der Hölle Rache’?”
Ezekiel’s brows must have shot to his hairline.That was some choice.The Queen of the Night’s aria was easily amongst the most difficult coloratura soprano pieces of the opera world.In all likelihood, they were about to be treated to a torturous rendition.He settled next to Ma and held the hand Tristan didn’t demand constant petting from.He would pay Mrs.Davis the same courtesy her daughter had paid Ma, even if it pierced his ears.
“A wonderful choice.You know it’s a favorite of mine.”Miss Davis chose a chair that gave her a profile view of her ma and her expression turned analytical.
Mrs.Davis prepared herself—much like Ezekiel had seen many other performers do before her.Once ready, she launched into a stunningly articulate, accurate, and beautiful rendition.With the exception of a few sections that age and a lack of practice might have altered, Mrs.Davis was as good as, if not superior to, any of the prima donnas he’d heard at Pike’s Opera House.She’s not really Constanza Brisbane, is she?The thought was so absurd he should disregard it, but he couldn’t.Mrs.Davis was no amateur singer.A voice like that did not just happen.It took years of dedicated and rigorous training under a superb master.
He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned closer to the opera singer—for she was one, even if not the famed Mrs.Brisbane.He’d never heard the real Mrs.Brisbane, and it would be unwise to jump to conclusions.However, a little investigation would settle the question.Rumors had circulated for weeks after her disappearance during the intermission of a performance.Even at the age of fifteen, he’d been caught up in the stories of intrigue that were equal parts scandalous, dramatic, tragic, and so utterly outrageous as to be undoubtedly fabricated.But had there been elements of truth to those stories?If she’d suffered a fit of hysteria that required an asylum stay, that would explain her disappearance.But why an asylum here when she’d disappeared in New York City?
He studied the woman before him.Her dull red hair, streaked with gray, would be a hard-to-hide identifier, but she wasn’t the only redheaded opera singer to have ever taken the stage.She was much slimmer than the newspaper sketches he remembered, but that likely had more to do with her stay at Longview than her natural form.Ezekiel paid almost half his wages to ensure Ma had the best Longview offered, and still she withered.Her lack of interest in food didn’t help, but if the Davises didn’t have the luxury of paying for Mrs.Davis’s stay, then her rations were sure to be paltry in comparison.Still, beyond the cruel weathering of age, there was no doubt Mrs.Davis had once been a healthy, vibrant woman.
The Soldene Opera Company was performing at Pike’s Opera House this week.As a woman in her forties, Miss Soldene might be familiar with Mrs.Brisbane’s story.If not, perhaps one of the other members of her company might know.It really wasn’t his business, but once an idea took hold, it was hard to dismiss, especially when related to music.He’d have to be discreet so as not to reveal he and Miss Davis had relatives in an asylum.Neither of them needed the scorn of society to complicate their lives.
“I’m sorry to interrupt.”A nurse entered the reception room amidst a chorus of groans from nurses standing at the door.“But Dr.Chalfant is sending all visitors home.The weather has turned, and he doesn’t want anyone trapped here if the bridge floods.”She turned around and shooed the loitering nurses.“Go on.The show is over.Back to your duties now.”
Great, now he had to wrangle Tristan into the basket again.Normally the cat loved to curl up inside it, but as soon as he perceived Ezekiel wanted him there, he fought against it with bared claws and hissed warnings.This time was no different.The moment Ezekiel reached for him, Tristan darted off Ma’s lap and shot straight to Miss Davis’s.Her rigid posture and attempt to lean away went ignored by the beast.
Ezekiel hated to ask, but he had no choice.“Could you please hand him to me?I’m afraid any attempt on my part would result in you accusing me of being Don Giovanni again.”
Miss Davis looked askance at the feline, then with a visible resolve, she held her hands over the cat and studied the various points of attack with the same intensity she’d studied the singing Mrs.Davis.
Ma slowly rose from her seat and shuffled to Miss Davis.“Like this.”
She guided one of Miss Davis’s hands behind Tristan’s front legs and beneath his torso.With the other, she supported Tristan’s rear end and hind legs.Miss Davis tightened her hold, and Tristan yowled.
“Gentler.”Ma’s wispy voice still managed to hold a reprimand.“Treat him like a baby.”
Ezekiel thudded back against his chair.Would wonders never cease?Three short sentencesandMa had done something of her own volition.As encouraging as the improvement was, jealousy twisted his gut.A cat had brought about this change, not the unwavering devotion and love of her son.It didn’t matter what sacrifice he made, it was never good enough for her to want to come home, to want to fight for a happier life with him.
Once assured of Tristan’s comfort, Ma patted Miss Davis’s arm.“Take care of my boys.”
Ma’s gaze locked with Ezekiel’s, and a faint smile appeared.Not for Tristan, but forhim.
Ezekiel blew aside his disappointment.Ma loved him in her own way, and if bringing Tristan is what made a difference in her recovery, he’d suffer a million cat scratches for her every week.Maybe eventually his love would save her.
He rose and embraced her.“I love you, Ma.Tristan and I will be back next visiting day.Remember, ‘God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.’”
Ma nodded at his usual parting words but didn’t return the affection.She accepted Nurse Abbott’s arm and leaned heavily against the woman as they walked.Though she was obviously exhausted,he couldn’t help but be proud of her—even if the marked improvement was because of a cat.He carefully wrapped the fragile hope the improvement gave and tucked it into the soft recesses of his heart.
Chapter Four
“NO!YOU CAN’T LEAVE.”MRS.Davis clutched Miss Davis’s arm, upsetting Tristan with the jostling movements.“It isn’t safe out there.”
