The next morning, once she’d washed up, had some breakfast, and cleaned up the bedding in her compartment, Erich returned. His grinning face at her doorway made her laugh again even though she was a bit worried that the train had not started moving yet.
“How did you sleep?” His grin was tired, slightly lazy, comfortable looking, and Freya realized she could become accustomed to just such a look every day of her life from just such a man.
“I’ve never had a better sleep.” She rocked back and forth from toes to heels, a sudden happy energy just at seeing his face making her blissful, more delighted than she’d been in a long time.
His grin turned more sincere, full of purpose. “I admit I enjoy our time together, stuck here with you, although last night when I returned to my compartment, I was a bit lonely.”
She felt her mouth drop open and her cheeks burn.
He laughed with his belly and pulled her close, their breath intermingling for a moment. “I wish to be with you always.”
Her breath came faster, her lips close to his, so close.
Then he took her hand in his. “Come. Walk with me.”
“Yes. I need to stretch my legs. Have they attached the car with the windows on the ceiling?”
“I don’t know yet.” He swung their hands together. “Let’s find out.”
They walked the length of the train, not seeing any observation cars, but when they reached the caboose, Erich stepped outside onto the back platform. The freshness of the chill in the air felt exhilarating. The sun had risen in the blue sky. The snow glistened like gems in the reflected light, and the track stretched out behind them.
Her determination from last night filled her with courage. She cleared her throat and turned to Erich. “My father has recently insisted that I leave professional violin behind me and marry a man of his choosing so that this man can run my father’s business.” She hurried to get all the words out before her voice shook. “I would be a great heiress. I have an extraordinarily large dowry. But I could no sooner live without the violin than I could my own soul. I thought that if I won great accolades, he would change his mind, but he has said that even accolades don’t matter to him, not any longer. I can see that a summons from the Prince will not budge his stubborn decision. He commanded me to return home at once, but I traveled here in defiance to that request. And today, I have decided not to return to him at all. If I have to live in poverty, I will do it. If I have to let him down, I will do it. I cannot live without music any more than I could without food.” She breathed out. Nor could she live without Erich. She hoped with all her being that he wanted her forever like he’d said.
Erich didn’t seem as alarmed as she predicted. He handed her his handkerchief.
She realized her cheeks were wet with tears. “Goodness. Thank you.”
“You are a woman of great courage. Do you see those tears?” He indicated his handkerchief.
She nodded.
“Think of the pain and sadness in your life, the loneliness, the years of chasing your dream, the demands of your father.”
She dabbed at her eyes again.
“Now, simply let them go. Send that handkerchief out over the wind. You are free. And I will never let you feel those sorrows again.”
Her eyes widened. She turned to face the back of the track.
The train started moving in a jerking motion.
Erich immediately moved to stand behind her. With his arms around her, holding her steady, he spoke in her ear. “This is perfect. As the handkerchief moves away behind us, we will move on together. I love you, Freya.”
“I love you too!” She wanted to shout the words out over the valley that stretched out behind them, their rise increasing, the incline growing steeper as the train sped up, and she not feeling one ounce of fear. For one moment, she clung to her sorrows and worries, and then she threw his handkerchief into the air and watched it blow away in the wind. The train picked up speed until the white, fluttering memory was out of sight.
Then she turned to him. Freedom surged through her.
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, this time with a firm resolve that made her cling to him, his mouth promising things his words had not yet spoken. She felt their power flow into her stomach and tingle through her.
She and Erich made their way back to her compartment in a dream. A passing conductor told them all cars were open for entertainment or food. They spent the rest of the day at great leisure. A huge peace had come over Freya, a new surety in her life she had never known. Finally at one with another person, she recognized the loneliness of her life. Her past life. The life she had released over the valley.
And now, she had nothing but hope for her future.
When the train at last pulled into the Salzburg station, it felt completely odd to say goodbye to Erich. She turned to him. “Can we see your father’s shop?”
His eyebrows rose.
“And Mozart’s home.”
“Only the most serious of responsibilities would compel me to deny such a delightful request. Might we visit the day after the concert and ball? Tomorrow?”
“Will I see you?”
“Yes. You can count on seeing me.” His eyes said forever.
She nodded. “Then this is goodbye until the concert?”
“I will be there.”
“Where will you be sitting? I want to find you in the audience.”
“You’ll see me. I’ll make certain of it.”
She studied his face, memorizing every line, every expression.
Then he raised her hand to his lips. “Until then.” He bowed and left her at the line of hired hacks that would take her back to the boarding house.
But she didn’t want to return just yet. She had little reason to. It would be many hours before she needed to dress for the concert, so she told the driver, “Could you take me to the home of Mozart?”
“Certainly, miss. Are you looking for his birthplace, his childhood home?”
“Yes. And I cannot go in. So perhaps you could simply wait while I look?”
He nodded, taking the horse-drawn carriage away from the train station. “If you like, I can give you more of a tour. Are you interested in the musical history of Salzburg?”
“Very much so. Particularly in the violin makers.”
“Oh, we have the very best violin maker in the world here. Have you heard of the Schumann violins?”
“Schumann. I have, yes.” The S stood for Schumann. Erich Schumann.
“I will show you their shop. And I will tell you their secrets. If you ever come across a Schumann violin with simply the initials, S. W. S., it is an original from the man himself, Herr Wolfgang Schumann. That violin would be worth something indeed.”
“Is that so?” The soft sigh that escaped carried a burst of happiness out over the wind. She already knew she had an original violin from Erich’s father, but hearing of its worth from this stranger was somehow additionally gratifying. Even more precious was the knowledge that her violin and Erich’s were twins of each other.
“And here on the right is Mozart’s birthplace, his humble home for twenty-five years of his life. The Haugenauer House, number nine. It’s up there on the third floor. Later he moved to Marktplatz Square, but this was where he spent his youth.”
She stepped out of the car. “A moment, if you don’t mind.”
“Take your time.”
She paused in front of the edifice, walked the cobblestone path, soaked in the very air, and then entered the carriage once again.
“Is that all you wanted?”
“That’s all.” She smiled. “I’ll be back.”
“Shall we drive by the Schumann violin shop now?”
“Yes.” The word came out in a breathy whisper. The birthplace of her violin meant more to her than the birthplace of one of the greatest violinists. As they approached the shop, she marveled at the old family crest hanging over the doorway from an upper street sign. The familiar double S weaving together with a W, the very initials she had on the inside of her violin, seemed to call out in welcome. “I’d like to go in. I won’t be long.”
“Take your time. I’ll be waiting right here unless you tell me otherwise.”
She slipped out of the carriage, her violin in hand, and stepped into the shop. The place was quiet. A few customers browsed through a row of instruments on the wall. Violins on the top shelf, violas, and even cellos lined one wall.
She deeply breathed in the smell of wood and smiled. The shop smelled like Erich.
“And you are a musician yourself.” A young man approached.
“How could you tell?”
“I could point out your instrument, but it’s more than that.”
Freya glanced down at her case. “I forget I even have this. It’s just always there.” She laughed.
“But it’s the way you smiled just now. You love the smell of the wood.”
“And the rosin. And right now, there’s a hint of a newly strung bow as well.”
“Ah, a true lover of the craft. You’re correct, you know. They’ve just strung some new bows today in the back.”
She nodded and then moved to walk the perimeter. “Might I look around?”
“Certainly. Let me know if I can do anything for you.”
“Thank you.” She walked toward old photographs on the wall.
She recognized Erich immediately in a picture of a young child with his father. So much of Erich smiled back at her in his father’s face that she almost reached her finger up to touch the photograph. She grinned. Young Erich held a tiny violin and a bow and stood by his father. The look on his face said he’d much rather be playing the violin than posing for that picture.
She laughed at his adorable face. Then she turned one time in full circle, taking in the shop before she left again out the front door.
When she stepped back inside her hired carriage, the driver turned. “Find what you’re looking for?”
“Yes, I have.” Then she gave him the address of the boarding house.
“Oh, are you one of the students who will be playing at the concert tonight?”
“I am.”
“My wife and I will be there. We never miss it. This year is special, isn’t it? We’ll be in the back rows, far from the royalty, but in the same room, mind you.”
“Yes, this year they’ve invited all the monarchs in Europe. I am from England, and my own Prince Edward will be there.”
“That’s something. Well, best of luck to you and your orchestra.”
“Thank you.”
They pulled in front of her boarding house, and she paid him before hopping out. “Perhaps I’ll see you there. If not, thank you for the ride today.”
“You’re welcome, miss.”