Mozart's Sister (24 page)

Some piano teacher I was. Once again I'd subjected a pupil to
only an ounce of my attention as I dealt with my own problems.

Or was it the same problem, come round and round in different
form?

The day after yet another half-hearted lesson I took action to
quench the issue once and for all. I packed a lunch of hard-cooked
eggs, bread, and ham, put on my oldest dress and sturdiest shoes,
and headed up the mountain.

"To think" had been my excuse to Mama. And in her moment
of hesitation, I saw a glimmer of sympathy in her eyes. Although she
was more resigned to our fate than I, she did seem to understand
my torment.

But did I? I could only hope....

I remembered a path where Papa had taken us one Sunday afternoon. It had been years earlier, before we'd started our travels. I
remembered it to be peaceful and lovely, two commodities that
would be helpful in my situation.

I walked down the streets to the east edge of town. There were many paths that led up the hills that cradled Salzburg. There were
even craggy mountains close by. Yet hills were enough for me. It
was not the exercise I craved but the need for solace and solitude.

Although I planned to think while I walked, I found my mind
consumed with watching my step on the path that was covered with
dirt and small stones. I'd tied my lunch in a towel. As I carried it
with one hand, my other hand held my dress and petticoat out of
the way so I could see the path. Oh, to be a man and wear breeches.

Suddenly I turned an ankle. I grabbed the branch of a tree that
lined the path to steady myself, only to trip again and end up with
scratches. I searched for a rock on which to rest, but there was none.
Maybe I should go back?

I shook my head against the thought. It was then I realized I had
not even begun to think through my problems. I had to go farther.
I could not return home until things had been resolved.

I remembered a clearing where we'd sat to eat our lunch.
Wolfie-he must have been only three-had chased a butterfly
there. I needed to reach that clearing. Ankle or no ankle.

I leaned against a tree and gave my ankle a look and a rub,
though neither did it any good or harm. Then I tested it out. If I
was careful how I placed it on the path ...

I had no choice. I had to work through my pain.

Work through my pain. I snickered. Yes indeed, that was exactly
what I needed to do.

I headed up the hill.

The clearing matched my faded memory. Low grass mixed with
edelweiss and other wild flowers. I stopped to take deep breaths and
look over the city. The church spires poked their way above the
rooftops as if they had a head start to heaven. The Salzach River
meandered through the town while the Hohensalzburg Fortress
loomed large from the top of its precipice, our protector for seven
hundred years. Salzburg was a lovely city, as lovely as any I'd visited,
and it made my heart race to be able to be here, above it all-

Above it all? Surely I didn't think of myself in that way? Surely I didn't feel that somehow I was better than the rest of Salzburg?
Because of my travel, because of my talent, and even because of my
family?

My legs felt weak-and not merely from the hike. I sat on the
grass and pondered the notion of such pride.

But I had been places most Salzburg residents had never visited.
And I did have talent, and so did my family. After all, my brother
had just been honored by the pope himself.

But you weren't.

I shielded my eyes with a hand, blocking the truth as well as the
sun. But no matter how I hid my eyes, my mind and heart had seen
the truth. Knew it intimately.

I was jealous of my brother.

There. I'd admitted it. I wanted an award too. I wanted to meet
the pope. I wanted to travel with Papa and see volcanoes and oceans
and visit Italian churches, eat Italian food, and speak Italian to Italians. I wanted things to be like they used to be when I was important too.

You are important to Me.

I started at the thought. Me who? God? Had God put a thought
in my head? How absurd. Speaking of being prideful ...

A sparrow lit on the ground beside me, turning its head so we
looked eye to eye. It was probably just interested in the bread
wrapped in the towel.

Yet it didn't move toward the towel, didn't peck at it. It just
stood on the grass and looked at me. At me.

So small. So unimportant.

And yet it too was there in the meadow. Thriving. Carefree.
Living with an assurance that food would be found and the wind
would keep it aloft. If God took care of this little sparrow, then
surely ...

Wasn't I of more value than this lowly bird?

"Of course I am," I said aloud.

I remembered my previous thought: You arc important to Me. I
knew it was a message from God, and I knew He meant it, and I
knew I was loved.

The bird was still beside me. But at this point he stopped his stare-down and hopped over to the towel. He pecked at it, as if
asking for his share now that his work was complete.

I was happy to oblige. I unknotted the towel and tore off a piece
of bread for him. I tossed it close by and tore off another piece for
myself. Nourishment for two creatures loved by God.

What did I care for honors or fancy sashes or portraits or the
praise and attention of any man? I had worth in my own right. Up
here on the edge of magnificent mountains, above the city I called
home. I belonged here.

Until God moved me on.

Until then, I would enjoy my lunch-and fine company.

On the way down the mountain my footfalls found a cadence
that reminded me of a marching soldier.

Marching soldiers ...

A slice of time returned to my thoughts. Wolfie and I watching
the soldiers marching at Ludwigsburg, and Wolfie's childish proclamation that he wanted to be a soldier when he grew up.

And Mama's adamant response that his destiny was to make great
music.

And my question to her about my own destiny.

And her response that my fate lay in having a husband and children. Not in making great music.

My breathing turned heavy-though not from physical exertion.
I stopped on the path and remembered my reaction to Mania's horrible words. I would be different from other women of my time. I
would become a renowned performer in spite of my gender. I
would reach the world with my music. I would not succumb to
what was expected of me, ordained for me, against my will.

I put a hand to my eyes, trying to block the memory of that
ambitious twelve-year-old. In the seven years that had passed, much
had changed. Too much. I was not touring anymore. I was not a
part of the Wunderkind phenomenon. I had been left behind to
wallow in the mediocrity of the mundane. I should have lived in the
fortress on the hill for all the walls that held me captive.

"There's no way out," I said aloud. "I'm no one. I'm unimportant"

At the sound of my voice I opened my eyes-and saw another
sparrow light on the path in front of me. And with the sight of him,
I remembered the words I'd heard on the mountain. You are iftipor-
tarat to Me.

But the words did not have the same calming effect they'd had
earlier. Once aroused, memory of my ambition could not be so easily appeased. Yet what choice did I have? I possessed little control
over my own life, much less over the whims, opportunities, and
reactions of others. I could not force my talent on the world. If I
could, it would fail and fall on deaf ears. Only the Almighty could
make it happen.

Or not.

Papa could help. But Papa was not here. And even if he were,
his focus and attentions were set elsewhere.

There was one fact I could not deny: I had no choice but to
accept the limitations of my future. If God wanted to make a miracle, He would do it. But if He did not ...

I wrapped my shawl closer around me and walked toward home.

The sparrow wisely flew away.

I finished playing the measure, then looked up at Joseph lounging on the chair by the window His eyes were closed.

"You don't have to stay while I practice," I said. "You must have
better things to do."

He opened one eye. "Can't think of a one"

"Are you trying to flatter me?"

He sat up straight. "Is it working?"

I began the piece again, preferring to have the safety of musical
notes in the air between us. "You need not resort to flattery, Joseph.
I'm your friend and will continue to be your friend." I heard him
get up but dared not look at him.

He leaned on the clavier. "Do you miss it?"

"Miss what?"

"Performing." His arms swept through the air expansively.
"Traveling the world and performing for gilded royalty in gilded
halls."

It took me a moment to change the direction of my thoughts
from romance to performance. It was a disappointing transition.
"No, I don't miss it."

He flicked a hand against my music, forcing me to stop.
"Nan ..."

I put my hands in my lap. "Yes, I miss it. But I don't miss the
too hot and too cold of the travel, the bumpy roads, the bad food,
and the sooty rooms."

Joseph moved beside me and put a hand on my shoulder.
"You're very talented, and Salzburg is lucky to have you here."

Though I didn't want to stir the envy or bitter-tinged thoughts
that were never far from the surface, I couldn't help but snicker. "A
lot of good I do here. Playing at dinner parties and weddings."

"Ali yes. Meager Salzburg. It must be a disappointment after
playing at royal dinner parties and weddings for kings, queens, and
empresses.

"Royalty are just people." It sounded snobbish.

He laughed. "Very rich, powerful people."

"Who put their knickers on the same way we do"

"They jump into them?"

I loved how he made me smile. "Did you know that the palace
at Versailles doesn't have decent plumbing? I saw many a lord relieving himself in the hall."

No.

I raised my right hand. "I did."

Joseph leaned on the keyboard case, cupping his chin in his
hand. "Ooooh. Gossip. Tell me more."

I moved to the display case where Papa had placed our royal
gifts. The locked display case. I put my fingers on the glass that
prevented me from touching these tokens from my past, from truly
owning them. My jovial mood left me. "I don't remember anything
else," I said. "I'm sorry."

He came close, and my spine tingled with the thought of him
touching my shoulder or back, but instead he took my hand and swung me under his arm in dance. Then he bowed and said, "To
cheer you up and to show you just how appreciated you are in Salzburg, my mother has invited you and your dear mania to our country home at Triebenbach."

"Your mother has invited us?" I wanted more than that.

"At illy request."

I smiled. "I've heard it's very lovely"

He took my hand as if to kiss it. "Loveliness is a requirement of
any lodging that will be blessed with the presence of the lovely
Mozart ladies." He bit the tip of my finger.