Page 15 of The Second Ending
Bloody hell! This was just a mess. It was too late to fix that now, too late to even know exactly what had happened.
But there was one thing Marcus did know. He loved Ashleigh, and he was going to do whatever it took to try to win her back.
CHAPTER 8
MUSIC
The first concertof the Eglinton Echoes’ season was a great success. The choir performed alone,a capellaor with only Gordon’s skilful piano accompaniment, letting their talent and hard work shine. The highlight of the concert, a beautiful new setting of a collection of Canadian poems by the famous local composer Anne Elliot, brought the audience to its feet.
One of the members of that audience was Marcus Fredericks.
At first, he’d told himself he was just passingly curious about the choir that Ash and Masako were part of. Know your enemy, and all that. But the write-up about this concert had captured his attention, and he found himself visiting the webpage more often than he expected to. The poetry was by E Pauline Johnson, an early 20th-century poet whose words moved him when other poetry left him cold.
He was no musician, unless you counted knowing three chords on a guitar, but he’d always enjoyed music, and his years with Ash had broadened his tastes.
How could he not remember lying next to her in bed after making love, while she nestled against him and told him about her favourite operas? He could still feel the butter-soft touch of her fingers dancing on his skin as she sang to him, her gorgeousvoice, now soft and mystical, bringing life to what he’d always thought was a mess of dusty and clodgy arias.
She’d introduced him to symphonies while cooking dinner, matching Sibelius and Mozart to their meals like a sommelier matching wines to the courses. How she taught him, punctuating her impromptu lectures with a brush of her hand on his arm, or the press of lips against his forehead. Music and Ashleigh were intermeshed; he could hardly think of one without the other.
And, although raised on a healthy diet of rock and folk, he’d come to appreciate, and then enjoy, other genres of music. Once or twice over the years, he’d even bought himself tickets to the symphony, and moreover, he’d enjoyed it.
And so, the program of choral music, with Elliot’s new piece featured front and centre, was something he couldn’t resist. He’d bought his ticket, told his brother he was busy and couldn’t watch the game that night, and had taken himself to a concert instead.
And holy smokes, this group was good! Even with his make-shift musical education, he could tell how well they sang. Every note was in tune, every syllable clear. Loud and soft, delicate and overpowering, their music at times almost brought him to tears. And Ashleigh was part of it. Wow.
She hadn’t been part of any musical groups while they were together. She told him that she’d sung with the university choir for a while, but law school was too demanding, and she couldn’t continue that commitment. Had it been law school, or had it been him? Had he somehow stopped her from singing? Was she afraid of taking time out of their relationship to make music with others? Damn, he hoped not. He’d never wanted to crush her.
Her parents did enough of that.
The thunder of applause had died down, and the crowds were filing out of the church, some back through the main doors totheir cars, and others to the green room where the choir had gathered beforehand, and where they had their coats and bags. Was there a party? Sometimes there was, he knew. Should he go and find her to congratulate her? Or would she think it creepy?
Damn, how was he supposed to do this?
Any choice he might have made was curtailed by a familiar voice calling his name.
“Marcus! What are you doing here?”
“Gordon!” This was the engineer he was talking to about overseeing some of the technical stuff once they got started on the actual construction. They’d worked together once or twice before, and seemed to get along well enough. More importantly, Gordon knew his stuff. “Do you know someone in the choir?”
Gordon laughed. “Take a look at the program.”
Marcus glanced down and scanned the list of singers. He hadn’t seen Gordon in the ranks, but then, he’d just been gazing at Ashleigh the whole time.
“No, not there. There.” The engineer pointed to the line that readChoir Accompanist, where his name stood out in bold letters.
“Well, joke’s on me,” Marcus chortled. “I had no idea you played… and that well. I guess that explains the monkey suit. Why didn’t I see you?”
“I suppose you weren’t looking. But, hey, I didn’t peg you for a choir aficionado.”
Marcus cleared his throat. “I, er, that is… I used to know Ash Lynch quite well, and I, er…”
Gordon broke into a wide smile. “Ashleigh’s a gem, isn’t she? Lovely voice, and so musical. I was just chatting with her. I need to get going, but if you want to go to the green room, I’m sure she’d be happy to see you. It’s just through there.” He gestured to a doorway on the far end of the vestibule.
“Thanks. Uh… we’ll be in touch. Good concert.”
And Gordon was gone.
Fine. Marcus took a deep breath. He was going to do this. He was going to walk into the green room, find Ash, and tell her how much he enjoyed the performance. Nothing weird, no pressure, just an old friend being nice. That wasn’t hard, was it?
