The Moon Singer Collection

Chapter 6

Billie glides through the surf with graceful arms, face up doing backstrokes in a meditative rhythm. It"s almost twilight, just before the sun fully sets on the horizon, her favorite time of day. There is not a soul on the beach on this unseasonably warm April day. Isaac is at work and will be for a few more hours. Neighbors have finished their afternoon of sailing and boats are docked by the pier dozens of yards from where she swims. Even though she is six months pregnant, she never misses a day, not just to keep in shape but to give her boy - yes, it"s a boy as predicted - an affinity with the ocean, its power and its serenity.

After several pregnancies and miscarriages, Isaac and Billie had all but given up hope that they would ever have a child. Disappointed, Isaac immersed himself in his work, trying to get Nathan Fischbacher to move into the futuristic era of shipbuilding and back his innovative designs. He is thrilled Billie"s pregnancy has come this far but braces himself for another turn of fate.

Billie"s goal of a PhD in music and a position on the staff of Port Avalon"s Music Conservatory has come to fruition. But despite her accomplishments, deep inside she feels the miscarriages are her punishment for past indiscretions and for even considering preventing what might have been a magical child his chance to be born. Rationalizing that these unrealized children were not even meant to be, that the perfect child would be sent to her at the perfect time, she tucks her guilt away in a quiet place.

Now refreshed mentally and every muscle loosened and supple, Billie dries off in the cabana and changes clothes. Inside the house, she makes a cup of jasmine mint tea in the roomy kitchen to mellow her then sits at the grand piano by the garden doors.

“This calls for some Chopin,” she decides and turns to her favorite piece, the E-b Major Nocturne, Op 9. She loves its elaborate and decorative tones and trills, which challenge her.

bThe classic piece opens with a legato melody, smooth and flowing. As Billie"s left hand plays an unbroken sequence of eighth notes in simple arpeggios her right hand moves with fluidity in patterns of seven, eleven, twenty, and twenty-two notes. The nocturne is reflective in mood, softly romantic, until it suddenly becomes passionate. After a trill-like passage, the excitement subsides and the nocturne, as written, promises to end calmly.

Her hands moving deftly and elegantly on the keys, Billie is in a trance of her own manifestation. She has not missed one note of the melody that seems to float above seventeen consecutive bars of D-flat major chords. Near the end of the nocturne, however, her fingers voice a chord that Chopin had never written. Billie speaks an “Ouch” at hearing the discordant error.

“What the…”

She corrects the fingering and moves into the next phrase, but again the chord she strikes is not by her own doing. Her hands become rigid, her fingers spasm. A tritone chord is struck over and over. Billie shakes her fingers out and flexes her wrists, thinking she is more tired from the swim than relaxed. Disturbed but determined, she breathes deeply to begin again.

Instead, Billie screams, nearly falling off the piano bench, and tips over her tea cup. A ghoulish black cloud hovers over the keyboard. It has a voice, a creepy voice. “I"ve Got You Now,” it sneers menacingly, and laughs with evil intent.

Billie pants and gasps from shock and fear. She swats at it as though it"s a harassing, unwelcome bug, but her hand moves right through it. “What are you? Who are you?” She keeps trying to hit it to no avail.

“I"m your dark side, Billie. Everyone has one, even you. You can"t escape me, especially in your music, because I am there in every note…in every Tritone chord…”

“Why are you doing this? Do I know you? What have I done to you? Please tell me.”

“You"ll find out soon enough, when you leave this nice little cocoon you"ve created for yourself and are at the mercy of death.”

Billie slides off the bench and curls up on the floor in an effort to protect herself from an undeserved assault. “What? Are you going to kill me? Why? Please tell me.”

That menacing laughter fills the room again, so loudly that Billie holds her ears to shut out the echo.

“Oh, I don"t have to kill you. You"ll do that quite well yourself. And next time we meet you"ll understand the hell you"ve put me through.”

Billie scrambles to her feet and backs out of the room as the dark cloud dissolves into its origins. She runs up the stairs to her bedroom, locks the door and buries herself beneath a pile of comforters, shivering with fright.

* * *

“What do the cards say?” Billie nearly shrieks hysterically, teetering on the edge of the chair, clawing at the red-clothed table. She is grateful that Dorinda has returned when she needs her more than ever, as though the enigmatic woman intuitively knew that her presence was required at this crucial time.

“First, they ask that you be calm, Billie. Your aura is a muddy brown, your energy is thick and dark with worry.”

“Calm? How can I be calm when ghosts or black clouds or whatever are chasing me through the house, are sitting on my piano keyboard, are terrorizing me. I can hardly play a note of music without it going discordant, creating sounds that are not written on the page, that Mozart or Chopin would never write and I would never play!”

“And that is your key to survival,” Billie. “To remember with your eyes, your mind, your fingers, your heart, the music that brings out the light in you and in the world, and chases away all the darkness. There is a reason that the music of the great Masters has lived on. Don"t you recall that Mozart had his own demons that nearly destroyed his mind? Yet he prevailed in bringing forth the music of the Divine. That"s what you must do. Fight the dark side. It has no power over you unless you let it.”

“But why am I so terrified? I"ve been playing for years and years and have never felt this foreboding.”

“The cards have told you what life has in store for you and your unborn child, the dangers as well as the rewards, and it"s a great weight to have on your shoulders.”

“It"s more than a weight,” Billie wails. “I"m not worthy of this - this - bringing forth a child that must help to save the world! I"m not Mary Mother of God! I"m just Billie Donovan.”

“Dearest,” Dorinda reassures her, taking Billie"s trembling hand. “We are all just Billie Donovan in one form or another. But when life offers a challenge to us, we can"t run away. We must face it head on or we never evolve, we never find our true purpose in life. Your challenge is beyond what most people have to confront, because the life and fate of another person is in your hands. Who else will teach him what he must know to fulfill his destiny? Only you, his mother. The woman who has known him in many lifetimes before and will know him in many lifetimes after this one.”

“You ask too much.” Billie lays her head down on her hands and sobs. “You ask too much.”

“It is not I who asks,” Billie. “It is the soul within you who has chosen this path, and who must walk it with your son.”

* * *

With the aid of a large carafe of chamomile tea and sitting for hours in diffused mists of lavender oil, Billie wills herself to play softly on the piano only the most healing compositions. The works of Johann Sebastian Bach particularly soothe and refresh her psyche, her favorite being the Brandenburg Concertos.

For a time, Billie"s life is back to normal. She can breathe easily. Her moods are more stable. Her time with Isaac is sweet and comforting. Most of all, her music is her solace and she regains authority over her technique and talent.

Billie even composes music now, and plays to her child in the womb. It"s a joyous song, a lilting melody, with a rhythm that harmonizes with his heartbeats. She feels him grow stronger as she herself grows stronger. Without truly realizing it, Billie is playing his soul song, one he will remember when he needs it most. When his life is in full crisis. When she is no longer there to protect him.

* * *

“Billie, Billie! Wake Up!” Isaac cannot rouse her. She is deep into a nightmare that is the worst she has had. Holding her boy"s head in her hands, she grabs at his ears, taking them for herself, leaving him without the ability to hear the sounds he needs to hear. She holds the ears in her hands, shuddering in horror. In their place are black holes on the sides of her boy"s head. How will he fend for himself? What have I done? What have I done?

How will he fend for himself? What have I done? What have I done?The screaming Billie hears is her own as she wakens to the reality of Isaac who is near hysteria himself.

“It"s okay, Billie. Just a bad dream. I"ve got you now. You"re safe.”

The two of them hold each other for dear life, as Isaac rocks his wife back and forth into a state of calm and quiet.

“I"m so sorry, Isaac. So sorry to put you through this. How do you stand it? Aren"t you sick of me?”

“Never. Whatever you"re going through we can go through together. I"ll always be here for you.”

The stress and strain of the years of waiting for a child, the ominous premonitions of the Tarot, and the visions of evil that she has been experiencing take its toll, and Billie goes into premature labor.

“It"s too soon,” she cries. “I can"t be in labor. I"m so sorry Isaac. It"s my fault. All that swimming, the stress over my concert performances -”

“These things happen,” the doctor tells them both. “It"s not your fault, Billie. You are healthy and your baby is far enough along - more than seven months - to do quite well. I promise I"ll take care of both of you.”

But that chilling nightmare about “taking her boy"s ears” fill her with dread. Will my baby be born deaf? No he can"t be. He"ll be a musician, so he can"t be deaf. He"ll be fine. He"ll be fine. He must be fine.

Will my baby be born deaf? No he can"t be. He"ll be a musician, so he can"t be deaf. He"ll be fine. He"ll be fine. He must be fine.* * *

David"s birth is a miracle for Isaac and Billie. The son they thought they would never have was nurtured along by a recording of Billie"s original music placed in his incubator, and after only a few weeks in the NICU he is now home, hearty and strong. For Billie, her work as a mother is just beginning, but hers will not be a normal motherhood.

She encourages Isaac that they name him David, “because he may have to grow up to slay dragons and giants,” she teases, knowing that one day he may have to do just that. Isaac acquiesces gladly but for the pragmatic reason that having that name “makes you independent, resourceful, practical, and patient.” A typical Isaac rationale.

knowingFor two years, Billie and Isaac are doting parents, content to have this one child who is everything to them. Except for fending off the ghosts that follow her everywhere, Billie remains strong and in control. She doesn"t dare tell Isaac about these visitations, for he does not believe one iota in paranormal or metaphysical things. She has learned to compartmentalize and put them in their place where they cannot hurt her or her child. She wonders why they still hang around, why they don"t just give up and bother someone else.

Then, miraculously, Billie is pregnant again, and this time a beautiful little girl is born. Sally is a bright and cheerful child, bouncy and perky. She attaches herself to her older brother, who takes on the role of her protector even at three years of age, a role he will fulfill all of his life.

Sally, the Princess, as Isaac calls her, is expert at wrapping him around her little finger from the time she is old enough to talk. She loves frilly dresses and dances around the room with abandon. To nurture this innate joy, Billie enrolls Sally in dance class and the unusually-coordinated toddler takes to it as if dancing is in her DNA.

As is his calling, David is fascinated with the piano. He sits next to Billie on the bench rapt and eager every time she plays. Soon, David is able to mimic Billie"s fingering almost perfectly. Realizing he is a prodigy Billie coaches him to sight read every scale, every note, so that he masters not just what is on the page, but so he can hear the music in his head.

When he can entice David away from the piano, Isaac teaches his young son to sail. He can"t play a note of music or talk about the art but bonds with his son through the nautical tasks of tying knots, hoisting sails and controlling the boat"s wheel. David is a quick-study and Isaac is delighted that he takes to the intricacies of sailing so easily.

* * *

“Ahoy, there, Nickersons!” Dorothy climbs the front porch steps, eager to see her family. She has just returned from one of her digs, and is exhausted from the freighter cruise from a far side of the world to the welcoming sight of Port Avalon.

“Aunt Dorothy!” the children squeal, and shower her with hugs and kisses. They know she will have some exciting stories to tell.

“Oh, it"s so good to see you both!” Dorothy flops on the couch with the two siblings cuddling next to her. “But first, I need to take off my shoes and wiggle my toes.”

Billie and Isaac welcome Dorothy warmly and offer up a feast of real American food. “Oh, how I"ve missed good old home cooking,” Dorothy gushes, relishing the familiar tastes. “Billie, you are almost as good a cook as you are a musician.”

Billie laughs but won"t take the credit. “Actually, it"s Isaac who whipped up this delicious stew and even made the biscuits from scratch.” Isaac does a seated bow acknowledging his wife"s accolade.

“Well, I never thought my brother would slave over a hot stove. How did you get him to tear himself away from his drafting table long enough to learn?”

“Isaac has been a lot more domestic since he"s become a father,” Billie explains.

“And I love every minute of it,” Isaac chimes in.

“How long are you visiting this time?” Billie asks.

“For as long as you will have me.”

“Well, your room is still waiting for you, and I expect it will be a luxurious experience after living on a freighter and in huts and tents for so long.”

“You bet it will be. I can"t wait to hit that four-poster bed and rest my head on those down pillows.”

“Aunt Dorothy,” David implores, “you can"t go to bed without hearing the new piece I learned.”

“Wouldn"t think of it.”

“Good. Let"s have coffee and dessert in the music room.” Billie and Isaac clear the table as Dorothy and the children walk hand in hand to the 19th Century elegance of the room where the grand piano is the focal point, amidst comfortable couches and ottomans.

Dorothy thanks Billie for the coffee and delicious petit four and rests her feet on the ottoman while David seats himself at the piano. He is slightly built and the grand piano almost seems to diminish him further. Until he begins to play.

petit fourWhen David"s fingers touch the keyboard he becomes larger than life. He performs his favorite music, McDowall"s tenderly beautiful, “To a Wild Rose,” with a confidence and sensitivity unusual for a seven-year old.

Unable to sit still, Sally pirouettes and glides in youthful elegance, complimenting her brother"s music but not stealing the spotlight.

Dorothy smiles and applauds approvingly when they finish. “With David"s music and Sally"s dance abilities they make a great couple of performers, don"t they?”

Isaac nods in agreement, trying to keep his pride in check. Billie"s heart fills with joy for the moment, trying to keep at bay the thoughts of impending challenges and trials that await them all.