{"id":5505,"date":"2022-05-23T11:41:07","date_gmt":"2022-05-23T17:41:07","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/?page_id=5505"},"modified":"2022-05-23T21:31:30","modified_gmt":"2022-05-24T03:31:30","slug":"return-to-mozart","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/it\/fiction-fridays\/return-to-mozart\/","title":{"rendered":"Return to Mozart"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<iframe loading=\"lazy\" src=\"https:\/\/player.blubrry.com\/id\/85384500#\" title=\"Blubrry Podcast Player\" scrolling=\"no\" width=\"100%\" height=\"138px\" frameborder=\"0\"><\/iframe>\n\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\"><figure class=\"alignright size-medium\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"192\" height=\"300\" src=\"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/03\/Return-to-Mozart-1-192x300.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-5036\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/03\/Return-to-Mozart-1-192x300.png 192w, https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/03\/Return-to-Mozart-1.png 512w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 192px) 100vw, 192px\" \/><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n<p>Amadeus Gruber lowered his heavy frame into his desk chair. Johann Conservatory wanted him to transfer all of his classes from in-person to online by the end of next week. Would he ever figure out how to navigate the technology? How could they expect this of a sixty-eight-year-old professor? He\u2019d only recently learned how to send photos to his nieces and nephews back in Austria. He needed someone with a better grasp on technology. Perhaps Lisandra, his graduate assistant, could help? Why in the world had the department sent him a female graduate student? Over the course of his career, he\u2019d met very few women interested in composition. Performance, of course, always seemed anxious to show off their fancy dresses at recitals and concerts. But the behind-the-scenes, solitary work of a composer? Not a chance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He opened his computer, pulled up his email, and began to type.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Dear Lisandra,<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Would you be available to help me with my online classes? I am confused by all the new technological requirements.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Best,<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Amadeus Gruber<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Yes, maybe she\u2019d know more about this stuff, which would allow him to focus on more important things, such as finishing his symphony. After rummaging in the top desk drawer, he pulled out several pieces of staff paper covered in music notes, along with a pencil. He coughed. Again. This blasted cold wouldn\u2019t let up. Where had he left off last time? Ah yes, time to add parts for the brass and percussion. Perhaps, with luck, he could begin the developmental section in a couple of weeks. If only this tightness in his chest would ease up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>###<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Lisandra\u2019s phone rang. Dad. This could only mean one thing. \u201cHello, Dad, how are you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cHoney, you must come home. I\u2019m worried. The airlines are still allowing repatriation passengers on flights, but I\u2019m afraid that soon everyone will shut their borders completely. Please get on a flight before it\u2019s too late.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She closed her eyes. \u201cDad, I can\u2019t. Not yet. I still have another two years of school to complete before I finish my graduate degree. And I\u2019m finally getting to study with Amadeus Gruber, a descendent of Mozart himself. You don\u2019t expect me to throw it all away, do you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNo, dear. But everyone\u2019s worried about this virus. They\u2019ve already canceled all of our symphony concerts for the foreseeable future.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She gasped. \u201cDid you lose your job?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Silence. \u201cNot yet. But if concert halls don\u2019t reopen soon, it might come to that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Her heart sank. What a devastating blow to her father. He\u2019d worked his entire career to earn his prestigious position as conductor of the Estonian Philharmonic Orchestra.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cTrust me, Dad, I don\u2019t like this situation any more than you do. But school is still continuing online, and I\u2019ve got to pay rent here in New York City. I can\u2019t give all this up. Not yet.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cJust think about it.\u201d Dad ended the call.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>A half-hour later, Lisandra pulled on her fur-trimmed boots and bundled up in a hat, scarf, coat, and gloves. Should she reconsider flying home? What if things grew worse and she couldn\u2019t return to Estonia? Outside,&nbsp; a chill stole through her body. She pulled her coat more tightly around herself The eerie empty streets reminded her of old photographs she\u2019d seen from the war. Except this wasn\u2019t wartime. But everything was closed, even her favorite caf\u00e9. Would any of these businesses survive? What about symphonies? Surely Dad wouldn\u2019t lose his job, would he?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Thank goodness Professor Gruber didn\u2019t live far from the conservatory. Once she arrived, she surveyed the elaborate apartment building&nbsp; in front of her. What a contrast to the iron staircases outside her dingy studio.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Of course, she\u2019d never visited her professor\u2019s apartment before. The conservatory strongly discouraged such intimate interaction. Would she be safe? She\u2019d read about his history as quite the womanizer back in his day. But since the school had closed its doors, and none of the caf\u00e9s were open, what choice did she have? She shivered. Hopefully the old bachelor remained respectful.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>After knocking several times, the door creaked open to reveal Professor Gruber in the entryway.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cCome on in.\u201d He waved her in. \u201cCan I take your coat?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI\u2019ll keep it on for now. I\u2019m frozen after the walk here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The sparsely decorated living room begged for a feminine touch, and a glance toward the kitchen showed a mountain of dishes piled in the sink. <em>Gross.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Once in his study, he gestured for Lisandra to sit at his computer. \u201cHere you go. I need all the files in the folder labeled \u2018teaching\u2019 uploaded to the new school platform. I&nbsp; forwarded the email with the instructions.\u201d He picked up a stack of papers and a pencil. \u201cI\u2019ll be in the living room if you have any questions. If not, I\u2019d prefer not to be disturbed.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>After a few minutes, she\u2019d located several of the teaching files and uploaded them to his online courses. He\u2019d have benefited from a personal secretary years ago to help with this mess of files.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>A couple of hours later, she reread the email from the department to make sure she\u2019d completed everything. In addition to the files, he\u2019d need to record several lectures and upload them. No doubt he\u2019d need help with that, too. She grabbed her purse and entered the living room. \u201cProfessor Gruber, do you need anything else today?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He shuffled several papers around without looking up. \u201cNo, Lisandra. That\u2019ll be all for today.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She cleared her throat. \u201cThe email mentioned that you\u2019ll need to record your lectures for the classes. Would you like some assistance?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>His head popped up. \u201cRecord lectures? Ah, I remember. Yes, I\u2019ll definitely need help.\u201d He coughed into his hand. \u201cI have no idea how to record videos. Do you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cGood. I\u2019ll see you soon.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>###<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Two days later, Amadeus pulled on his best blazer, a button-down shirt, tie, and a pair of khaki pants. Apparently, he needed to look professional for the video recording. No use for his students to see him in the sweats and loafers he\u2019d worn for the past twenty-four hours. If only these body aches would ease up so he could accomplish something productive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He glanced at his watch: 8:15. Time to check his glucose levels. <em>Hmm, 160, a little high. <\/em>All this monitoring of his diabetes would kill him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>A faint knock at the door greeted him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He attempted a smile and opened the door. \u201cWelcome, Lisandra.\u201d His eyes narrowed at the blue medical mask that covered her face. \u201cWhat\u2019s that for?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cThe governor recommended we all wear them. They\u2019re supposed to slow the spread of the virus.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He crossed his arms. \u201cSeems a little odd that I can\u2019t see your face, but all right. Let\u2019s get started. I\u2019ve prepared my lecture.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cGreat.\u201d She set up a tripod and mounted her smartphone on top.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNice contraption you have there.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She smiled. \u201cThanks.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Forty-five minutes later, he finished his speech on the rules of harmonic progressions. Palms sweaty, he wiped them on his pants. Must\u2019ve been the nerves of speaking in front of the camera. \u201cHow did I do?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cGreat, Professor. Just like in class.\u201d Her eyes shone with enthusiasm. Quite the beauty.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He loosened his tie. \u201cFelt a little odd talking to a camera instead of a room full of people.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m sure you\u2019ll get used to it.\u201d She turned and picked up a stack of papers from his table. \u201cMay I ask what these are for?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>His insides churned. \u201cBe careful. That\u2019s the manuscript of my symphony. I\u2019ve been writing it for several years now, but I haven\u2019t had enough time to devote to it. Until recently, of course, now that we can\u2019t go anywhere.\u201d He grunted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Her brown eyes scanned the pages as if to take them all in at once. \u201cYou know, I could help you input all this into a music software system. That way you could change parts as needed and not have to do it all by hand.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cHmmm.\u201d He stroked his chin. \u201cI\u2019ve always wanted to try one of those but never had the nerve to take the plunge. I\u2019m so technologically behind that I\u2019m not sure I could figure it out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She set the stack back on the table. \u201cNo worries. I\u2019ll help you. It would be my pleasure. I don\u2019t have anything going on right now, anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cExcellent. See you tomorrow.\u201d With an assistant, maybe he could make faster progress on the composition, if his body cooperated.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-image size-full\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"900\" height=\"506\" src=\"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/Composer.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-5576\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/Composer.png 900w, https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/Composer-300x169.png 300w, https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/Composer-768x432.png 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 767px) 89vw, (max-width: 1000px) 54vw, (max-width: 1071px) 543px, 580px\" \/><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<p>###<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>That evening, Lisandra hurried to the keyboard in her apartment. Would she be able to play the melody to Professor Gruber\u2019s symphony? She\u2019d only scanned it for a few minutes, but based on the part she saw, she couldn&#8217;t deny this man was a musical genius, as evidenced by his eccentricity. The melody had played in her head the whole walk home. If he\u2019d let her help him, maybe now she\u2019d have a chance to prove herself. The need to compose burned in her like a raging fire.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The next morning, she returned to his apartment, her small keyboard in tow. \u201cI\u2019m ready.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cGood.\u201d He coughed several times. \u201cLet\u2019s get started.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Was he sick? What if he\u2019d contracted the virus She pulled her mask more securely over her face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>With a swift motion, he handed her five stacks of paper. \u201cThese are the string parts for the first movement. Once you\u2019ve finished them, we can move on to the winds. I\u2019m still working on the brass and percussion but will hopefully complete those soon so I can move onto the slow second movement. I think something much more melancholy than the first.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cMakes sense to me.\u201d Heart drumming fast, she examined every detail of his composition. The mastery with which he wove the melody from instrument to instrument while adding harmonic layers above and beneath sent a tingling sensation down to the tips of her toes. \u201cThis is brilliant,\u201d she exclaimed as she ran her fingers over the keyboard. \u201cYou\u2019re brilliant.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>His eyes softened a few degrees as he scrutinized her face. \u201cThanks. Now tell me, do you have any ideas for the melodic motif of the second movement? Nothing has struck me yet, so I\u2019ve moved on to the third instead.\u201d He coughed into his hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI, um\u2026\u201d Why couldn\u2019t she think of anything off the top of her head? \u201cI\u2019ll brainstorm tonight and see if I come up with something by tomorrow.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cPerfect.\u201d He coughed again. \u201cI\u2019ll see you then.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>That evening, Lisandra pondered endless musical possibilities for the second movement. Which one should she choose? What would he like best? After two hours, she grabbed her phone. Time for a mental break. She scrolled through several stories about additional businesses that had closed for good. Of all the years to live in New York, this was the absolute worst. With her studies in the fall and her return home to Estonia over the winter break, she\u2019d had little chance to visit any of the sites before everything shut down. Would the world ever return to normal?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>###<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>A week later, Amadeus tried to take a deep breath as he pulled a polo shirt over his head. He shuddered. The body aches and cough hadn\u2019t diminished. They\u2019d increased, and now a nasty fever plagued him as well. No use denying the symptoms anymore. Better warn Lisandra. He\u2019d grown accustomed to her presence over the past few weeks\u2014the one ray of light in his isolated, pain-filled days. She was young but smart. The complexity of her suggestions for the second movement blew him away. Not something he\u2019d ever expected of a woman. He\u2019d had many girlfriends in his early years, but no one who truly understood his work. But this girl was different. Her talent and determination signified the ability to become one of the greats.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Yes, he must warn Lisandra. Hopefully it wasn\u2019t too late.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>###<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Lisandra set her phone down on the couch. Now Professor Gruber had the virus. Everyone she knew had fallen sick with this awful virus. It had already killed so many people in New York, and many more were dying by the day. While scrolling her phone again, a disturbing headline caught her eye. \u201cHundreds of Bodies Buried in Unmarked Graves in New York.\u201d Her eyes bulged. This couldn\u2019t be true. She continued to read the article. \u201cAs numbers in the city skyrocket, overwhelmed authorities, unable to keep up with the body count, have transported many of the unidentified deceased to Hart Island to be buried in mass, unmarked graves.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>A sob caught in Lisandra\u2019s throat. How inhumane, like something from a page in history. Hadn\u2019t she just read a biography about Mozart which referenced his unmarked grave? She closed her eyes at the thought of his dug-up grave, used again and again. This concept of unmarked graves, and mass graves, was a thing of history, wasn\u2019t it? How could these exist now, in the twenty-first century, right here in New York City? Like living in a gothic novel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-image size-full\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"900\" height=\"506\" src=\"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/Mozart.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-5598\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/Mozart.png 900w, https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/Mozart-300x169.png 300w, https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/Mozart-768x432.png 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 767px) 89vw, (max-width: 1000px) 54vw, (max-width: 1071px) 543px, 580px\" \/><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<p>She pulled out the biography and skimmed the relevant chapter. \u201cMany poor people were buried in pits, or <em>grubers<\/em> in German.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Grubers? Like the last name of her professor? His last name meant \u201cpit?\u201d She shuddered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The following day, no call from Professor Gruber. Or the next. Or the next. She\u2019d called him but he hadn\u2019t answered. Should she risk a visit? His family lived in Austria, while hers was back in Estonia. What if no one had checked on him?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Yes, she had to go. It was the only humane thing to do.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Upon arrival, she rapped on the door several times. Silence. Since he\u2019d given her a key, she turned the latch and stepped inside. The putrid scent of days-old food and dishes assaulted her senses. <em>Please let him be alive. <\/em>What would she do if he wasn\u2019t? Her stomach lurched at the thought. <em>You can do this, Lisandra. Be brave. <\/em>She padded to his bedroom door, took a deep breath, and knocked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWho&#8217;s there?\u201d a weak voice croaked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Thank goodness he wasn\u2019t dead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s me, Lisandra. I\u2019ve come to check on you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He coughed several times, low and guttural. \u201cGo away. I\u2019m very sick and don\u2019t want to risk your exposure.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She hesitated. How could she leave him in this condition alone and to become the next composer buried in an unmarked grave? No, she had to help.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>With a deliberate push, she shoved open the door and stepped inside. The professor lay on the bed, his shirt drenched with sweat, face flushed. She brushed her hand against his forehead. Too warm. \u201cHow long have you been like this?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He shrugged. \u201cI don\u2019t know. Several days.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWhen did you last eat something?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYesterday morning or the day before. I can\u2019t remember.\u201d He clutched his chest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She scraped her hand through her hair. What if she\u2019d come a day later? Who knew what might have happened? \u201cWe\u2019ve got to take you to the hospital.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He shook his head. \u201cI can\u2019t. According to the news on TV, they don\u2019t have enough beds left. Might as well save them for those who have a chance.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Lisandra grabbed the empty cup from his nightstand, filled it with water, and brought it back. \u201cHere, drink this.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>With a weak smile, he raised the glass to his lips. \u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWhat else do you need? I can make eggs, if you\u2019d like.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYou have to eat or you\u2019ll lose all strength.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She wrung her hands. \u201cWhat do you want to do?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cBring me my composition. I want to work on the symphony.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNot unless you eat first.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>His eyes narrowed as he examined her. \u201cYou\u2019re a stubborn girl, Lisandra. All right, I\u2019ll take some eggs if you promise to help me with the symphony afterward.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She smiled. \u201cI promise.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>###<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Amadeus kept his eyes on Lisandra as they ate their scrambled eggs, canned fruit, and stale cookies. Resourceful. She\u2019d made the most of what remained in the pantry. Perhaps now he\u2019d have the strength to compose. He rose to move to his study, but a pain in his side forced him back in bed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cStop.\u201d She pressed his hand. \u201cI\u2019ll bring the keyboard in here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>When she returned, she sat on the bench and began to play.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d he asked after several moments.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cA tune I made up.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cThat\u2019s it. The theme for the second movement. It\u2019s perfect.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Her eyes lit up. \u201cYou think so?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He nodded. \u201cI\u2019d orchestrate it by giving the theme first to the winds, then to the strings. Maybe even add the harp.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cThe harp?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s your primary instrument, is it not?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYes, let\u2019s do that. I wish I could hear you play.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-image size-full\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"900\" height=\"506\" src=\"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/Harp.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-5577\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/Harp.png 900w, https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/Harp-300x169.png 300w, https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/Harp-768x432.png 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 767px) 89vw, (max-width: 1000px) 54vw, (max-width: 1071px) 543px, 580px\" \/><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI could bring my harp here tomorrow. I have a portable one.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNo, you shouldn&#8217;t come back here. I\u2019m too sick and contagious.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She wiped his forehead. \u201cI\u2019ve already been exposed.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He closed his eyes. He struggled to breathe. Why was this virus so unrelenting? If there was a God, thank goodness he\u2019d sent this angel to stay by his side.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>###<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYou cannot stay at that man\u2019s house.\u201d Dad\u2019s voice crackled over the phone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWhy not?\u201d Lisandra packed more of her clothes into a suitcase.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cFor several reasons. First and most important, because he has the virus, and I don\u2019t want you to contract it. Second, because you\u2019re a young girl and he\u2019s your professor. I don\u2019t want him to take advantage of you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Lisandra clipped her suitcase shut. \u201cDad, he\u2019s so weak he couldn\u2019t take advantage of me, even if he wanted to. And if I get sick, as well, I\u2019ve already taken that risk. I\u2019m young, so I\u2019d have a good chance of fighting it off. But he\u2019s old and has no one here to care for him. Haven\u2019t you taught me my whole life to help others?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Silence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cPlease, Dad, I believe I\u2019m called to do this. I need you to understand.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Dad grunted. \u201cI\u2019ll try. Keep us posted. I love you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI love you, too.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>###<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The following morning, Lisandra maneuvered her suitcase and harp to the elevator of Professor Gruber\u2019s apartment. What a job.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Once inside, she headed straight to the bedroom. She gasped at the sight of Professor Gruber, lying ashen faced on the pillow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cLisandra, is that you?\u201d he whispered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYes.\u201d She rushed next to his bed. \u201cHow are you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI can\u2019t get enough air.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She pulled out her phone. \u201cWe\u2019re going to the hospital.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He shook his head. \u201cIt\u2019s too late. I won\u2019t make it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Tears stung her eyes. \u201cYou have to. We haven\u2019t finished the symphony. We still need to write the fourth movement.\u201d She reached for the manuscript that lay next to his bed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He gave her a weak smile. \u201cFrom the moment I first heard you play, I knew you possessed what it takes to be a great composer. Although I can\u2019t finish it, I know you will.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She swallowed. Of course she wanted to compose, but at this cost? To watch her mentor die before her very eyes? Tears streamed down her cheeks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>With a soft caress, he brushed them from her face. \u201cDon\u2019t cry for me. My time is over, and now it\u2019s yours.\u201d He drew a rattled breath. \u201cContinue to work hard, and trust your inner muse. You have something inside that guides you and inspires your creativity. Never let that flame burn out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Warmth flooded her heart at his words. He, a descendent of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart himself, believed she possessed the talent to be a great composer, too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Another of his coughing fits interrupted her thoughts. What could she do? The cup of water on his nightstand might help. She reached for it and held it to his lips. After a few sips, the cough subsided.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWhat do you have in the case?\u201d He pointed toward her instrument.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cMy harp.\u201d She sniffed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cPlay for me, please.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She rose, pulled it out, and returned to the chair beside his bed. \u201cWhat song would you like?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cAnything.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>When her grandpa was dying, her mother had played Psalm twenty-three for him. She\u2019d said it possessed the power to comfort the sick.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>His breathing slowed. \u201cA psalm of David the harpist, the great composer of old.\u201d He closed his eyes. \u201cI remember.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>###<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Back in Estonia two years later, Lisandra slid into the seat of the concert hall next to her mother. Her big day had finally arrived. The title of the program read \u201cReturn to Mozart&#8221; and included Mozart\u2019s <em>Requiem<\/em> in honor of those who\u2019d died during the pandemic. She glanced at the inside of the program. Her vision blurred at the picture of Amadeus Gruber featured next to her own.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>A moment later, her father took the stage and bowed to the audience.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cLadies and Gentlemen, tonight we celebrate the reunion of the Estonian Philharmonic Orchestra after more than a year\u2019s hiatus.\u201d The audience erupted into applause. \u201cTo commemorate this special occasion, we will enjoy a special treat. The late Amadeus Gruber began this symphony long before the pandemic wracked our globe, when musicians still performed for packed concerts halls without fear of illness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cMonths before Gruber\u2019s death, my daughter, Lisandra, moved to New York to study with him at Johann Conservatory where they collaborated on the composition. Sadly, Gruber died before the piece was complete, leaving her to finish the task in his stead. Lisandra, would you please stand?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Tears streamed down her cheeks as she rose from her seat. After all the years of hard work, sacrifice, and pain, she\u2019d finally achieved her dream of being featured alongside the greats.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Dad extended his hand toward her. \u201cWithout further ado, I present to you the premiere of the<em> Resilience Symphony<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-image size-full\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"900\" height=\"506\" src=\"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/Orchestra.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-5602\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/Orchestra.png 900w, https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/Orchestra-300x169.png 300w, https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/Orchestra-768x432.png 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 767px) 89vw, (max-width: 1000px) 54vw, (max-width: 1071px) 543px, 580px\" \/><\/figure>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Amadeus Gruber lowered his heavy frame into his desk chair. Johann Conservatory wanted him to transfer all of his classes from in-person to online by the end of next week. Would he ever figure out how to navigate the technology? How could they expect this of a sixty-eight-year-old professor? He&rsquo;d only recently learned how to &hellip; <\/p>\n<p class=\"link-more\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/it\/fiction-fridays\/return-to-mozart\/\" class=\"more-link\">Continue reading<span class=\"screen-reader-text\"> &#8220;Return to Mozart&#8221;<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":5036,"parent":5532,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-5505","page","type-page","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"translation":{"provider":"WPGlobus","version":"3.0.2","language":"it","enabled_languages":["en","es","fr","de","it","br"],"languages":{"en":{"title":true,"content":true,"excerpt":false},"es":{"title":false,"content":false,"excerpt":false},"fr":{"title":false,"content":false,"excerpt":false},"de":{"title":false,"content":false,"excerpt":false},"it":{"title":false,"content":false,"excerpt":false},"br":{"title":false,"content":false,"excerpt":false}}},"post_mailing_queue_ids":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/it\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/5505","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/it\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/it\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/it\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/it\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5505"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/it\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/5505\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5637,"href":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/it\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/5505\/revisions\/5637"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/it\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/5532"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/it\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/5036"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/it\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5505"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}