The Violinist's Daughter

Chapter 5

Gustave smiled down at  Avery Fischer Hall, the familiar stage beckoning him. He put his violin to his chin, playing a few scales and admiring the way the sound filled the hall.

He thought about his daughter, and how beautifully she had played at her audition in August. He wondered how in the world he had been lucky enough to be gifted with such a perfect daughter. He'd heard horror stories from other parents about how awful their children were, how entitled and arrogant, but his wonderful Christine was humble and acknowledged the fact that she was lucky enough to have been born into a good place.

Yes, Gustave was very proud of his älskling, his Little Lottie. He plucked through the first piece he would play that night, Saint-Säen's Violin Concerto 3 in B minor. He would only play one piece that night because it was thanksgiving and he wanted to celebrate this foreign holiday with his only family.

He had the night planned out so they could celebrate this American Holiday at their favorite restraunt in the city, Astrid's. It was a place that he and Christine had discovered 8 years ago when they had been wandering the streets of New York.

They had stumbled upon the neon sign when someone had opened the door and the delectable scent of pies and chocolate had met them in the dark alleyway.  The smell led them to the blue glowing sign that said Astrid's. The wondrous place had stacks of pies and steaming hot chocolate, but their specialty was French and Swedish cuisine. Oh how happy they were to have a taste of gravlax and soupe de poisson á la rouille. It brought the comforting taste of home and memories of his late wife's cooking.

He smiled happily at the sweet nostalgia as he walked into his dressing room. The bright lights and stacks of music were wonderfully familiar and the beaten down sofa was still sitting in the back.

After practicing for a couple of hours, he called Christine.

It took a few rings, but Christine finally picked up. "Papa?"

Gustave smiled, "Äskling! How is Schol?"

She sighed, a tired sound. "Uneventful. But, I've found a really interesting Opera score. It's called 'Hannibal'."

Gustave chuckled, "Ah, that Opera. It is quite dramatic, no?"

Christine giggled, "Aren't all operas dramatic?"

Gustave nodded, "Very true. Did you practice your violin?"

"Three hours." She said, her voice sounding a bit guilty.

Gustave laughed, smiling, "I'll give you a break today. But remember, practice makes perfect!"

Christine groaned, "Papa, I'm sorry. I was stuck on a difficult passage, and I took a break. I'll get the five hours in before Dinner."

He smiled approvingly, proud of his daughter's diligence, "Good job, äskling! Did you sing today?"

He could almost see her smiling on the other end, "Of course! I went to one of the practice rooms in Resling and took intervals between violin and voice!."

He grinned, "You have a lovely voice, Little Lottie, why did you not audition with voice?"

"Because I'm better at violin, and I had a much higher chance of getting in with a filled out resume then one that just says, 'Self-taught."

Gustave sighed, "As I thought. Perhaps you can audition next year and double major."

Christine laughed, "Papa, I'm only fourteen, I couldn't possibly balance both. Maybe when I'm eighteen."

Gustave smiled, "Maybe. I miss you."

She sighed on the other end,"Only another month until Christmas, Papa. Then, I can go back home!"

He laughed, "Of course, Little Lottie. Oh! And before I forget, tonight there will be a performance by Itzhak Perlman at the Lincoln Center at 7, so make sure you listen and take notes!"

Christine chuckled, "I can't wait, Papa!"

"I love you, Little Lottie."

"I love you too, Papa. Good luck!"

Gustave grinned, "Thank you, äskling. Adjö!"

"Ses snart!"

Gustave hung up, pleased. He felt a slight pain in his chest, but thought nothing of it.

Meanwhile, his daughter was sitting on her bed, plucking on her violin. She hummed the tune from Hannibal, thinking of what classes were going to be like tommorrow.

The Garnier Institute and Opera Populaire program would allow her to take classes at Garnier, but intern and sub in in the Garnier Opera chamber. She had been taking classes with Irene Higa, a New York legend who had gotten into Garnier at eight years old. She was twenty-eight years old, and was one of the most famous Concert soloists. Her father had taught Irene when she was twelve for a year and had done a few concerts with her. Her father considered Irene to be a second daughter, and Irene was one of the best violinist Christine had ever met.

She closed her eyes, leaning back on her bed, putting in her earbuds. It was the Glazunov violin concerto that serenaded her at this moment.

Song after song, Christine slowly drifted away. A song started playing that was unfamiliar to her. It was definitely in French. The words spoke of Heaven and Beauty and the voice was that of an angel. It was heartbreakingly beautiful, full of sweet desire for paradise and love. Christine longed to hear it again, but when she looked at her phone, the music had been off.