Glimmer of the Moon

By Jo Ann Lordahl

Tonia Tyson has experienced her share of tragedy, may be more than most. She is first chair in the local Canadian orchestra and has been promoted to Assistant Concert Master for the extra money to help her and her niece pay for their growing living expenses. Star, all of five years old, is Tonia's main motivation for training and practicing hours everyday for a chance to win the elite prize from the prestigious Tchaikovsky International contest being held in Gainesville, Florida.

Tonia fighting her growing attraction to the orchestra conductor, Standley Kenneth Eagleton. Tall, dark-haired and handsome but he is already married to a women who very unstable. Eagleton also attracts his share of groupies. Star, befriends a neighborhood man, names Greg, also a musician and a teacher at the local private school, who seems to be interesting in Tonia too.

To get to the contest in Gainesville, Tonia is worried about her old Datsun making the trip, wants to see if she can find a long-lost grandmother who is supposed to be located in White Springs, Florida. The very place her best friend from college has invited Tonia and Star to visit before the contest. 

Between her attraction to Eagleton, Greg's attraction to her and all the other events in her life a hurricane coming the same week as the contest is really of little consequence to her ruminations. What will happen next? Will she win? Which man will win her heart?
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jo Ann Lordahl
• Release date: Nov 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223459620

Book preview

Dear Friends and Gentle Hearts

(Five words on a scrap of paper together with thirty-eight cents found in the pocket of Stephen Foster, dead at thirty-seven.)

They sing no more by the glimmer of the moon,

On the bench by the old cabin door.

The day goes by like a shadow o'er the heart,

With sorrow where all was delight.

Stephen Foster

"Great music is a psychical storm, agitating to

fathomless depths the mystery of the past within us.

There are tones that call up all ghosts of youth and joy and

tenderness; - there are tones that evoke all phantom pains

of perished passion.

Paul Elmer More

(1864-1937)

Dramatis Personae

Tonia Tyson - Violinist - assistant concertmaster

Standley Kenneth Eagleton - Orchestra Conductor

Karen - Violinist and Tonia's friend

Stacey Aster a.k.a. Star (Tonia's 5-year-old niece and now her charge)

Greg Rewbury (Music Master at Cranmer College) and Star's friend

Maggie Fabianno - Tonia's neighbor and Star’s sitter

Mr. Fabianno - Maggie's husband, works for General Motors

Charlie Fabianno - 2-1/2 son of Maggie - roly-poly image of his father

Steve Fabianno - 10 yr old son loves hockey and is Tonia's music student

Mrs. Aster - Star's paternal, rich grandmother who wants full custody

Amelia (Belle) Lansing – Jill’s long-lost grandmother

Jill Wilson – Tonia’s school friend in White Springs, Fl

CHAPTER ONE

Eagleton didn't shout , rant, curse or insult his players as some orchestra conductors did. That wasn't his style, Tonia thought. By merely raising a black eyebrow at mistakes, you somehow knew you were a musical idiot. And with only the slightest chance of eventual improvement—with his help of course.

Sometimes she hated him. But in calmer moments she recognized her envy and knew how fiercely she wanted to possess his degree of musical knowledge. Standley Kenneth Eagleton's expertise put him into a separate category. Genius, or as close as she was likely to encounter. Eagleton (she always thought of him by his last name) breathed the remote air of excellence. When she was honest with herself, she admitted that his arrogance was indeed unconscious. And that this unconscious arrogance was fed, in fact, from his welling reservoir of brilliance, knowledge, and expertise. It quite simply didn’t occur to him that others hadn't yet reached his level. Didn’t possess his dedication. He treated them as musical equals and was upset when they proved not to be. Standley K. Eagleton made it abundantly clear he'd be satisfied with nothing less than perfection.

Tonia took, as a main task, understanding orchestra conductor Eagleton. Realizing he was the biggest key to her learning her job as assistant concertmaster in the St. Margaret's Symphony, she struggled to figure him out. Besides, she always strived to do her best in any job she tackled. Slowly, over the days, she’d hoarded knowledge of the complicated man like forbidden gold she’d secreted away, and his complicated expectations. Just yesterday she'd been surprised with additional knowledge that was like a page torn from a textbook.

Eagleton was in working clothes: straight, plain green trousers and a green turtle-neck sweater. The clothes followed his lean shape, adding to his height. Giving a pared-down gracefulness like a master athlete: a skater, a skier, a dancer. The man was in superb physical condition, she thought, knowing that according to insistent musical gossip he must be twelve or fifteen years older than she was, probably thirty-five, young for a conductor.

A rare perfect passage caught her in its beautiful spell. Their community symphony orchestra, playing over its head, was suddenly sweeping the stage in a sweet river of sound. Tonia knew the score of Debussy's La Mer, had slaved over every silvery magical note.

Eagleton, turned ninety degrees from her, directed the oboes and French horns. The craggy hollows around his deep-set eyes, under his cheek bones, and above his forwardly jutting chin showed clear and clean. To Tonia there was about him at this moment a shining quality as though he had subjugated himself so totally to the music, merged himself so utterly with his work that it was impossible for her to separate them. Now in an almost mystical way, this was his music while at the same time he was the music.

Eagleton turned towards the violins, his arm curved imploringly, drawing from them the sounds that would allow this moment to go on forever. As he turned away again, she had a sudden sharp clear image of his face, the dark brooding eyes, the craggy angles and jet-black eyebrows. Like an after-image it stayed in her mind even when she wrenched her gaze back to the musical notes she knew by heart.

Harsh, discordant sounds came from the cellos three seconds later. The orchestra was abruptly halted, the black eyebrows springing into full use in the instructions that followed.

Karen, a thin delicate waif who looked like a frail kitten and played like an inspired sprite, leaned over and said to Tonia, What's gotten into Eagleton tonight? That disappearing wife of his must be causing trouble.

Perhaps, Tonia whispered as Karen leaned back and Eagleton turned their way. Tonia's heart thudded but his face seemed to soften. After a couple of quietly instructive words the orchestra played again.

The passage was soft, only a whisper of sound. Again, the cellos came in like screaming birds. Harsh wounded sea gulls who destroyed the soothing sounds of the sea.

Eagleton paced in long strides while the oboes retuned. La Mer, The Sea, was the French composer Debussy's masterpiece. Tonia loved its poetic impressionistic interpretation of the varying moods of the sea.

Eagleton moved in an unyielding pattern, three steps one way, wheel about, three steps the other way, wheel about. To Tonia he'd been walking forever, like a caged animal.

Karen whispered again close against her ear, He probably has her locked in the cellar with the winter apples and potatoes.

This time Tonia didn't reply as they picked up the music again—from just before it went wrong.

She only remembered Karen the night before their last concert when like a muted whirlwind, excitement grew at one corner of the orchestra, blowing fiercely as the wildfire news spread.

Karen's eyes were big blue saucers as she’d swayed in Tonia's direction. Eagleton's wife just made another suicide attempt. They're trying to keep it quiet, but the trombonist was on an extension when the phone call came. He heard it all.

Oh, no, Tonia had moaned, how dreadful. What an awful time to choose to do such a thing, ran through her mind. The concert was the very next day. How could she?

It was all a fake the policeman said. He recommended she get mental help. Karen was indignant. I should think so. They’ve got her sedated now and a nurse is with her.

How awful for Eagleton. Tonia had felt sick at her stomach. Everyone knowing his private business. This was life at a closeness she didn't want. To be so unhappy one played at suicide. A most dangerous game. Play could easily become reality. Make tragedies for everyone.

What would happen now?

Aunt Tonia, are we poor?

A loud silence followed the bell-like tones. The quiet in the old-fashioned kitchen stretched on and on.

Tonia finished ladling their oatmeal and placed a dish before Star. Poor is relative, my sweet. What some people call poor, other people call rich. And it's possible to be rich in some things and poor in others. You and me, for instance, some could call us poor, her voice faltered over the last words. She resolutely raised her chin. She might be only twenty-three with never an idea of being forced to earn a living for a niece and herself. But she was a Tyson. Tyson’s did their duty. Her mother's strong sweet voice still rang in her ears.

We're poor, unconsciously mimicking her mother, she repeated to her five-year old niece, poor in worldly possessions. We don't have much money. But we're rich in other things: a snug house of our own, we've got health, enough to eat, there's music, and don't forget your kitty-cat, Cotton. There's my lovely new job as assistant concert master. And if ... when ... I win the contest in Florida; we'll be rolling on easy street.

Why don't we have raisins in the oatmeal? I like it better with raisins.

Tonia laughed and ruffled Star's lovely hair. "We'll have raisins tomorrow. Star's blond hair, three shades lighter than her own, was shot through with deeper reddish streaks. Red was a legacy from a fiery red-headed grandmother who had died long before either of their births when her father was only a baby.

Star's blue eyes were large, expressive and framed by incredibly dark thick lashes that gave her face a poignancy, a deceptive look somehow of needing to be taken care of. Or maybe it was a look of innocence, of trust, of vulnerability. Whatever it was, Tonia thought, it brought people rushing to help Star, to please her. Even herself. It was hard not to spoil Star. But, thank goodness, a strain of pure stubborn independence, which she could encourage, lurked just behind those wide, baby-blue eyes. Star was a happy, bright child. Good-natured, smiling, the sort who never met a stranger. She bubbled over with curiosity; every new thing was an unfolding, fascinating joy to her.

Some questions were hard to handle. Tonia remembered a visit and a walk with her niece when she was three. Star asked her why a cawing crow didn't get electrocuted sitting on a thin electric wire. She'd earlier been lecturing Star about the dangers of electricity and why little girls shouldn't unplug toasters. Tonia had had some squirmy minutes dredging up technicalities of hot wires, ground wires and that you had to be grounded for electricity to be dangerous. She'd struggled to put everything in a child’s language. Finally, they'd agreed: birds were different; they could touch electricity that was dangerous for little girls who mustn't ever handle it until they were older.

Eat your oatmeal and remember that you're my little treasure. I never know what you're going to come out with next. Now tell me, Tonia was brisk, why this sudden fascination with our financial condition? Where'd you get the idea we were poor?

We were eating lunch yesterday. I wanted to ask my teacher how to paint Cotton. How do you paint a white cat on white paper so you can see him. Aunt Tonia?

We'll try it later, sweetie. Now tell me, did you hear someone at school say something about our being poor?

Yes, another teacher was talking to Miss Julia—she's my art teacher—and she said we were poor.

What else? Tonia felt a trifle awkward about questioning her niece. But on the other hand this affected them both. She must keep on top of happenings in Star’s young life.

Something about that it wasn't right that you would drag me out of school ... just for a contest in Florida. Star ate a bite of oatmeal. Aunt Tonia, she said you're getting above yourself. What's that mean? How can you be above yourself?

Tonia shuttered and drank her tea. We'll talk later, she replied absently. She had to think about this. Who knew raising a child could be so complicated. Now eat those last bits of your oatmeal and go get dressed for the day.

Leaning back in her kitchen chair, gazing out across evergreen branches furry with white towards the snow-covered lawn, she surrendered herself to the perplexing problem before her.

Tonia had lost her entire family, except for Star, killed when they were driving to see her perform. Insanely wiped out by an intoxicated driver who'd hurled his pickup truck into a head-on collision, killing outright her only sister, Star's mother, and her brilliant young brother-in-law.

Tonia's mother and father, also fatally injured in the accident, lingered unconscious for three long days and nights never once waking while she kept a solitary vigil. She became numb and cold in those desperate days. A deep vital part of herself seemed to die.

Star was not with the family because of a mild case of chicken pox. But it took time for Tonia to accept that of her loving supportive family only her niece was left.

Tonia's emotions were not on the surface. During some frantic, lonely, midnight hour of those unendurable three days, emotion was placed aside. She didn't blame herself. She was too intelligent and well-adjusted for that. But the senseless tragedy had to be integrated into her normally happy life. From her deep void had come the resolution that her own childhood happiness, her debt to her family, could only be repaid in kind. Her sister's only child would become her child. Star’s happiness and well-being were her first concern and priority. So, Tonia made her adjustment to life, wrapping about her in the process a cocoon, an air of coolness, a remoteness that seemed entirely impenetrable. She was like a shy person who appeared haughtily distant from trying to keep secret their shyness.

She didn't speak of the past and friends and new acquaintances didn't often ask. In odd moments there was an air of serious reserve, but now her dreams seldom become nightmares. Time might not heal the impossible. Yet with the passage of time the unbearable did become a part of the past, its cutting edges stilled.

Now alone in their small town in southern Ontario, Canada, she and Star lived in a cottage perched on the edge of a ravine. The town was a bare twelve miles across the United States frontier from Niagara Falls, New York. On a clear day Toronto, seventy miles away by highway, was visible from the Queen Elizabeth Way, commonly known as the QEW. This expressway split St. Margaret’s before curving around the southwestern edge of Lake Ontario. And onto the big city of Toronto.

Their house, an entirely unexpected legacy from Tonia's mysterious grandfather, was south of the expressway, across a ravine from Cranmer College. This small group of houses, mostly built in the thirties, formed an isolated pocket on the western edge of town. It was enclosed by an old vineyard still producing purple Concord grapes, mostly used for wine. Their house at the far end of the ravine was much older than the others, for it was an original farm building, in a poor state of repair, when it became her only inheritance. Tonia winced as she picked up her cooling tea: her family was big on art, careless of finance matters. Everyone was living happy productive lives. There was always tomorrow. Then suddenly tomorrow was unbelievably different. The old safe world was forever gone. This was a new world. And she’d better get used to it.

This cottage was all she had in the world. Except for Star, and two violins she valued almost as highly as her niece. Expenses had swallowed their small inheritance from Tonia's mother and father. And from Star's mother and father, except for an insurance policy that Tonia vowed to use only for Star's college expenses.

The kitchen, where she now drank a new cup of hot tea, was pale orange pine boards seven or eight inches wide with brown knotholes. She'd discovered these antique boards only after stripping away five layers of faded wallpaper. The windows, now bright with orange, yellow and green curtains, were filled with plants and framed by the deep rich green fir trees blowing outside in the icy wind.

It was a pleasant winter scene, coldly beautiful. One she usually found enjoyable. Today, her fragile peace disturbed, everything felt slightly off key, different. There was no sound but the wind and nothing in sight but trees and white lawn and two stray birds.

She sighed, looking at Star now dressed, busily gathering her homework, books and papers from the end of the square pine table.

Stacey was really her name, but Stacey was too formal for the bright-eyed, alert, little baby. So five years ago, soon after her birth, Stacey became Star. And Star she had remained ever since, to everyone. Star, like all children, was an unconscious mimic. But being an only child, playing alone, taking both sides of fantasy games, spending most of her time talking to adults, had further developed her ability to parrot adults. The very picture of outraged adult disapproval, Star was still mimicking the teacher, No, not like that. Haven’t you learned anything about drawing? Disapproval showed in the now rigid lines of her small, graceful body and in the faithfully reproduced scornful words Tonia could still hear magnified in her mind, You’re poor. And you don’t know your place.

Why couldn't people mind their own business? she thought with an anger that was gone before it began, for she had to laugh watching Star. Never mind, she knew it wasn't funny. Never mind that the petty world intruded itself in a way that made her feel like a snowflake in a winter wind. Never mind. Star felt secure with her. That was the important thing. She knew that. She'd put a lot of effort into making sure that her niece did feel secure. To Star, poor was only a word, for she'd take its meaning from those closest to her. But she’d have to be extra careful so this safe and secure world of Star's she'd worked to create wasn't broken. The past was nearly forgotten. Together, they were forging a new future.

What would you do today. Star, if you had a million dollars? she asked. What's the first thing you'd do?

The outraged adult entirely disappeared from Star's mobile face leaving only pure child behind. I'd buy you a present, Star said with a sweet smile. Probably a new instrument, she added seriously as she visually gave the thought her full consideration. And I'd buy a special fish treat for Cotton. He's crazy about fish.

Well Sweetie Pie, Tonia laughed, if I had a million from our Lotto Canada Lottery the first thing, I'd do is buy a present for you too. Tell you what, why don't we declare today's lunch a special occasion? Why don't we see what we can do without wealth? Right this minute, however, I need to practice for a couple of hours, get my music in the violin section organized and I've got a new idea I want to try.

Tonia's now customary serious look was suddenly back. She added under her breath, Once, just once, the rehearsal will be letter perfect. Eagleton won't have a negative word to say.

She continued talking to Star. You must clean up your room. Then you can play until time for lunch before you go to kindergarten this afternoon. I'm certainly glad you're not coughing this morning. Tell you what, let's work hard for two hours and then think of a surprise present for each other. What do you say? she asked, knowing the answer.

Star loved their special occasions; she was a good child. Tonia, knowing she treated Star more like another adult than she should, worried sometimes and vowed to try deliberately to treat her niece more as the child she really was.

But Star knew with a child's instinctive intuition when Tonia meant business and left her aunt to work. Heaven knows, Tonia thought, taking her music into her practice room, I know how to worry about money. But it doesn't get you anywhere to