"Kelley Eskridge - Strings" - читать интересную книгу автора (Eskridge Kelly)

She closed her eyes as the water cooled around her neck and knees; she
remembered the music that had burst from her violin at the end of her dream. She
recognized it: the distant, maddening music that she had heard earlier; the haunting
melody that stirred her hands to shape it; the illegal music that she could never play.

When she tried to stand up, her hand slipped on the porcelain rim, and her
elbow cracked against it. The pain drove the music from her head, and she was
grateful.

тАЬLetтАЩs have a picnic,тАЭ the Piano said a few days later, at the end of an
afternoonтАЩs rehearsal, the rich, rolling energy of good music still in the air. There was
a moment of quiet, as if everyone were trying to work out what picnics had to do
with concert performances. Then the SM set down the pile of scores she was
carrying with a solid paperish trunk.

тАЬThatтАЩs a great idea,тАЭ she said. Behind her, Guarnerius rolled his eyes and
went back to packing up his cello.

The SM produced a clipboard and a pen. тАЬWho wants to bring what? She
was surrounded by a crowd of jabbering voices and waving hands. It took a few
minutes for the group to thin out enough to let Strad get close.

The SM looked up at her, obviously surprised. тАЬWas there something you
wanted, Strad?тАЭ

тАЬIтАЩd like to bring something, but youтАЩll have to tell me what we need.тАЭ

тАЬOh no, weтАЩll take care of it, Strad. ThereтАЩs no need to trouble yourself.тАЭ

тАЬIтАЩd like to.тАЭ But the SM had already turned away. Damn it, Strad thought.
She gathered up her violin and left the hall, walking alone through the double doors
into the sun and smell of the street.

The limo waited alongside the curb. The driver got out and moved around the
car to take her things. She gave him her violin and music, but shook her head when
he opened the rear door for her.

тАЬIтАЩll walk. Guarnerius is still packing up; I donтАЩt know how long heтАЩll be. Wait
for me outside the hotel, and IтАЩll pick up my things. DonтАЩt give them to anyone but
me.тАЭ

тАЬYes, Stradivarius,тАЭ the driver answered. He looked down at the ground while
she talked, so she could not tell if he minded being told what to do. Damn, she
thought again.

She walked fast the first few blocks. Then she realized that no one recognized
her, that no one was paying her any more than casual attention, and gradually she felt
safe enough to slow down. She was sweating lightly, and she stopped under a
canvas awning in front of a shop to catch her breath. She pressed herself against the