Reverie

by Rico, Lauren

  We tune carefully and open the music on our stands to the Schubert. When I look up again, Matthew is gone. Sorry, buddy, I have your life now. I’m the one with the great job and the career that’s going to explode. If you’re smart, you’ll take Julia and you’ll go away. Far, far away. Of course, that’ll just buy you a little time. If there’s one thing I know about my brother, it’s that he always gets what he wants. And what he wants is to destroy you. It’s just a matter of time.

  When Joe Dancy nods for us to start, I put my viola under my chin and raise my bow to its strings. In an instant, the soft strains of Schubert fill the hall. It’s the Quartet he titled Death and the Maiden.

  How appropriate.

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  About the Author

  Lauren Rico was going to be principal French horn of the New York Philharmonic. That was HER plan, anyway. The New York Philharmonic had no idea of her intentions, and that's probably a good thing, since she wasn't an especially good French horn player!

  Lauren was, however, an exceptionally good classical music radio host. Calling herself a "Classical Music Reanimator," she has made a career of demystify classical music for her audiences by taking it off a dusty old pedestal and putting it into a modern context.

  It's only been over the last couple of years that Lauren has discovered a passion for writing, which she's managed to combine with her love and knowledge of the classical music world. That's when she had the realization that she had something special with this story of love and obsession and music.

  You can hear Lauren Rico on SiriusXM's Symphony Hall Channel; on WSHU-FM in the New York metro; WSMR in Tampa/Sarasota, FL; WDAV in Charlotte, NC and KMFA in Austin, TX

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you to the amazing people who made Reverie possible...

  My sweet husband Tom who stood by me through all the angst, insecurities and tears. You’re the love of my life.

  My sister and my hero, Vanessa, and her beautiful family, Frankie Sr., Frankie Jr. and Ursula. You make me (and Mom) so proud every day.

  Janet and Kwaku, more than my family, you are my closest friends. I love you more than I can say in words.

  My family, including my grandparents, Mike and Crucita, aunts & uncles, Karen and Michael, Bonnie and David, Kim and David and cousins Laura, Michelle, Jessica, Cheryl, Jeremiah, Nathan, Joshua, Hannah, Angel and Noah. I love you all!

  My mother, Marie. I know it’s you, Mom. I know you’re the one who whispers the words in my ear. I miss you.

  My father, Gregory and grandparents Carol and Mario. You gave me a wonderful start in this world, but you left me way too soon.

  A special thanks to my earliest readers and supporters, including Karen Rodriguez, Cathy Fourquet, Myelitia Melton, Rita Michel, Kate Roberts, Joan Daly-Lewis and Julie Freddino. You are extraordinary women with beauty, brains and heart.

  My editor Jennifer Mishler, who made me a better writer.

  I’m so grateful for Ernie Leuci, who helped me to find my joy again, and for his lovely wife Stacey, my unexpected muse, untiring cheerleader and unrelenting quality controller.

  Thanks to Jessica Rodriguez and her badass book club, Natalie Mendoza, Jasmine Aiken, Mari Digiovanni, and Rachel Mazzaferro.

  And, finally, my eternal gratitude, and love to my Heavenly Father who makes all things possible

  Excerpt from Rhapsody

  Can't wait to find out what happens next? Here's a sample from book 2 in the Reverie series, Rhapsody:

  Prologue: Matthew

  They call it ‘The Magic Hour,’ a small window of time just before sunset, when the world is bathed in a warm, sepia glow. Right now, this perfect light is cast across the back lawn of the North Fork Children’s Home, as I watch my bride make her way toward me. I’m waiting for her at the point where the earth falls away into the steep, sandy bluff below. Behind me, the inky water of the Long Island Sound is dotted with sailboats, some wafting lazily, others picking up speed as their sails are filled by the salty breeze.

  That same breeze just catches the hem of Julia’s dress so that it billows out around her. It makes her look like an angel floating toward me. Adding to the illusion is the way the light in her auburn hair creates a gentle halo around her perfect, porcelain face. In her left hand is a small bouquet of wildflowers, while her right is wrapped in the arm of the man who is giving her away. Dr. Sam Michaels couldn’t look more proud than if he actually was her father.

  We’re surrounded by children. There must be two hundred of them lining the path that Julia is walking, throwing rose petals at her as she passes. They are of all different ages, backgrounds and ethnicities. What they have in common with us and with one another, is that they will spend some part of their childhood in this place.

  “It’s like we’re all family, Matthew,” she reminded me. “I want them there, participating, witnessing. I want them to celebrate with us.”

  And now, as the flowers fly, and the tiny North Fork Children’s Home band honks away on the Wedding March, I see that she was absolutely right.

  From next to me, the Reverend Caldwell pats my shoulder supportively, but I hardly notice, because I cannot take my eyes off of Julia. She crosses the long patch of soft green grass to the very spot where we sat as children, looking out to the water and planning our lives together. When, finally, she’s standing only inches in front of me, Dr. Sam takes her hand and puts it into mine, patting the two, as if he can adhere us for eternity.

  “She’s yours to watch over now,” he says softly, seriously.

  “She always has been,” I reply, without even looking at him.

  Julia is even more breathtaking up-close. I see now there’s a wreath of tiny white flowers and ribbon on her head. And, for the first time, I notice that she’s barefoot. This makes me smile. She makes me smile.

  “My God, you look… amazing,” I whisper.

  She blushes as she gives my hand a squeeze, and we settle into our positions. Dr. Sam steps back behind us, and the Reverend moves in front of us.

  “It is my great honor to join together today in holy matrimony, a pair of souls that were united a long time ago. Matthew, Julia, I remember you clearly from your days here at the children’s home. You were inseparable companions, protectors and confidantes for one another. You assuaged the pain of mutual loss and found the strength to build a life together out of the ashes of your earliest days. Never before have I felt more confident in a union, for you are already devoted to one another. You have already sacrificed for one another. You have already weathered some of the worst trials a human being can endure and yet, here you stand before me, your belief in the goodness that exists in the world still strong enough to give you hope for the future. Please face one another and join hands.”

  We do as he says.

  “Julia Victoria James, will you have Matthew as your lawfully wedded husband? Will you love him and cherish him and stand by his side all the days of your life?”

  “I will,” she says softly, her emerald eyes never leaving mine.

  “Matthew David Ayers, will you have Julia as your lawfully wedded wife? Will you love her and cherish her and stand by her side all the days of your life?”

  They’re the two words I have been waiting to utter for what seems like my entire life. It’s all I can do to keep myself from shouting them.

  “I will.”

  Dr. Sam pulls the pair of matching gold bands out of his pocket and hands them up to me.

  “Matthew, please put the ring on Julia’s hand and repeat after me. With this ring, I thee wed.”

  I do as I’m told and we repe
at the process in reverse with Julia slipping the band on my hand.

  “Julia, Matthew, I am so happy to pronounce you husband and wife.”

  From behind us, there’s the huge eruption of applause and catcalls from our witnesses. I glance over my shoulder at the crowd of young people who have congregated to watch the spectacle.

  “You may kiss the bride!” the Reverend yells above the jubilant noise.

  He doesn’t have to say it twice. I pull Julia into my arms and plant a long, deep kiss on her lips. I pick her up and twirl her around as she throws her head back and laughs. I’ve never been much of a romantic, but I just can’t seem to help myself. The way she looks, the way she sounds, the way I feel at this moment… I think she just might be an angel after all.

  Part One

  1 BRETT

  It’s hard to describe the sound that the human body makes when it hits a stationary object at a high rate of speed. My mind registers some cross between a ‘thump,’ a ‘splat’ and an ‘ugh,’ as I go flying out of the back seat of the cab and slam into the solid, plexiglass partition that separates the passengers from the driver. Equally disturbing, is the smacking sound my head makes as it hits the armrest of the rear passenger door on my rebound journey. Now, I’m lying, face-up, staring at the roof of the car.

  I’m jolted out of the eerie silence by a sudden explosion of noise, it’s as if all hell is breaking loose around me. There is yelling outside of the cab, the drivers are screaming obscenities at one another. How did they get out of the cars so fast? I can hear excited conversation just outside of my door, but I can’t lift my head enough to see anything out of the window. Horns are honking relentlessly.

  “Open the door and help him!” I hear someone say nearby.

  “Nah, man. You ain’t supposed to move someone when they been in an accident.”

  “Has anyone called an ambulance?”

  No one replies to that question.

  For once, I decided to splurge on a cab after one of the Walton Quartet gigs. We hadn’t even cleared the intersection, when a courier van ran a red light, T-boning us. Now I try to lift my head, but I feel a rush of tears wash down my face as I do. Why am I crying? I’m in pain. Maybe that’s why.

  “Move!” demands a woman’s voice close by.

  “Will you please get out of the way?” she asks from closer now, and with more irritation.

  Without warning, the car door swings open and my head drops off of the armrest. I flinch with the expectation of hitting the metal jamb, but I don’t. My head barely moves an inch. I try to see what’s happening behind be, but at this angle, the late afternoon sun pours in, temporarily blinding me. I squeeze my sore lids shut against the glare.

  “Hey,” says a soft voice. “Hey there. Can you hear me?”

  It’s a woman’s voice. I think maybe the same one that told everyone to move.

  “Yes, I can hear you,” I mutter.

  “Open your eyes,” she commands.

  I do.

  The bright light is blocked by her head, hovering closely over me. I squint and try to make out her features, but she looks so dark against the backlight of the sun behind her. Not to mention the way she is leaning in over me from the outside, she looks like a floating head with no body attached. That can’t be right, can it?

  “What’s your name?” the head asks.

  “Brett. Brett Corrigan.”

  “Hi, Brett. I’m Maggie. Listen to me, you’ve been in an accident,” she says slowly, as if I’m an imbecile.

  “No shit,” I murmur.

  I think I can make out a smile on her shadowy face, but I’m not certain.

  “Okay, good! You remember what happened. Are you in pain, Brett?”

  I start to nod and the tears flow again. Dammit!

  “Hey, hey, don’t try to move. We need to keep your neck straight until the ambulance comes, okay?”

  “I don’t think anyone called…”

  “Don’t you worry about that, they’re on the way,” she assures me. “Where does it hurt, Brett?”

  I think about this question and a quick mental inventory gives me the answers.

  “My head. My face.”

  “How about your arms or your hands or your wrists, Brett? Did you try to brace yourself when hit the partition?”

  Oh, God. Did I? One bad break and my career is over. I try not to panic. Think, Brett. How do you feel? Finally, I take a deep breath and speak again.

  “No. I don’t think so. It happened so fast, I didn’t have time to brace. Just my head hit and then I flew back.”

  Either my eyes are adjusting or her face is lightening, because now I can make out the soft outline of her cheeks and jaw.

  “Maggie?”

  “Yes?”

  “I can’t stop crying.”

  I think I see her brow furrow, either in concern or confusion. Maybe both.

  “You’re not crying, Brett. You’re bleeding.”

  I’m about to say something when another head pops into my line of vision. This one is bigger.

  “What the fuck, Maggie? You should have waited for the ambulance to come!”

  Oh, I don’t like this head at all. This head sounds like a dick.

  “John, make yourself useful and find me some tissues or a towel or something so I can wipe some of this blood off of his face. And make sure it’s clean!”

  Dick head lingers for a second before receding.

  “Boyfriend?” I ask, and am surprised to hear I have a slight slur now. If the girl notices, she doesn’t mention it.

  “Date,” she says with a hint of disdain.

  “First?” I ask, trying to focus on her as the pain behind my eyes intensifies.

  “Second,” she says. “And last.”

  I don’t think I was meant to hear that last bit, it’s barely a whisper under her breath.

  “Here, I’ve got some napkins from the pretzel truck,” I hear him say as a hand is thrust into view.

  Maggie takes them from him with her right hand, still using her left hand to cradle my head. She presses the stack gently, but firmly on my forehead.

  “Oh, shit!” I howl. “God, that hurts!”

  She shushes me quietly.

  “I know,” she murmurs. “But you’re bleeding a lot and I want to try and slow it down.”

  From somewhere in the distance, I hear the squawk of sirens.

  “Those are for you,” she informs me.

  From somewhere close by, I hear the sound of Dick head’s voice. But I can’t quite catch what he’s saying. Maggie has turned her head slightly toward him and now I can make out a halo of curls around her head.

  “You know what?” I hear her hiss quietly out the door behind her, “I’m done. Take your theatre tickets and shove them, John. And while you’re at it, you can shove my phone number, too.”

  Ouch. Dick head got a beat down in public. I wonder if his head hurts as much as mine does right now.

  When she turns back toward me, I can see her smile. Sort of. Everything’s a little hazy at the moment. The ambulance is very close now, blaring its horn as it tries to make its way through gridlock this accident has undoubtedly created.

  “Any second now, Brett. I think they’ll probably secure your neck with a collar and slip a back board under you.”

  “Oh, God,” I moan, suddenly alarmed. “Do you think I hurt my spine? Isn’t that why they do that?”

  She’s shaking her head and the hair shakes with it.

  No. I don’t think so, but we don’t want to take any chances, right?”

  I can hardly hear her now.

  “Brett?”

  And why is it getting so dark in here?

  “Brett?” I hear her ask a little louder this time.

  “Brett!”

  ________________________________________

  Want to find out what happens next? RHAPSODY will be released soon! Sign up to my mailing list to be the first to know when it is out. www.LaurenRico.com