| The Salt Lake City Concert (Opus II) For NaNo 2009, The second volume in the "Grand Organ Mysteries" fiction series.
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Created: 10:08pm on 10-16-2009
Modified: 12:01am on 11-19-2009 | |
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Entry #674794, added on 11-05-09 @ 12:51 am EST.
[Entry Access Restriction] None.
Title:
Chapter 4
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Chapter 4
There was a sudden flurry of activity within the main building at Pipe Dreams. The team brought the packaged manuscript autograph to Dr. Blair for his final inspection and approval. They would deliver the package to Captain Stearns just before takeoff. Josiah Young had said his farewells to the team. He had spent a few private moments with Dr. Blair. Cameron had rested, showered, and was prepared to either assist or control the flight to Salt Lake City International Airport. Captain Stearns had arrived and briefed Dr. Blair on the itinerary. The plane “Pipe Dreams I”, a LearJet, would be returning to home base tomorrow, probably mid-to-late morning. Cameron had a lot to do in preparation for the concert in one week.
Dr. Blair had a lot to do, too. Although his musicianship was considered to be the gold standard by which every other organist would be measured for many years to come, practice with the instrument and the music was still required. Taking his eyes off the doings of Grand Organ Productions for a few hours would only help his rehearsal, demeanor, and overall attitude. He wasn't very certain how the separation from Cameron would go, but was feeling it deeply. Betty Jensen was busy scheduling meals, accommodations, and transport for the pair in Utah. Wherever Dr. Blair went, his dietary requirements had to be dealt with. He did not require any particular type of diet; he just happened to be very picky about what he ate. When on the road, Melvin Blair was a virtual caged tiger in such matters. He liked to have things just “so”. That usually meant that others paid dearly in patience and activity.
Finally, everyone was off. Dr. Blair and Betty watched from the front drive as the plane smoothly ascended into the clouds over the estate. They very seldom had the opportunity to share moments such as these together. As close as they were in physical proximity, they seldom got a moment unshared by others.
“You alright, Betty?”
“I will be, tomorrow at lunchtime. I'd better be.” She looked into the eyes of her employer.
“We just got him, you know. I'm not ready for him to take flight yet. There is so much yet to do with him.”
“I'd like to feel like I could tell you how silly that all is, Betty. I know just how you feel. I don't think an entire lifetime would prepare me to be without him now. I do know how you feel. Just remember that I have feelings for my son, too. I would never possibly allow any harm to come to him if I could. But, Cameron is a very rare young man. He has had to deal with difficult things that many adults never have to face. He has shown ability. He will be alright. I just want to see him being alright for a very long time.”
“I know that, Melvin. I promise I do. My reactions are mostly defensive in nature. As much as I try to protect you—even when it means a layer of skin off my butt, my instincts really get hyper when it comes to Cameron. I didn't plan it that way. That's just the way it is. I want you to understand that, as well.”
“With the two of us, I think he will probably be alright. That will be a good thing, because by the time he does fly off into his own world, we will both be in the loony bin!”
They both laughed. Blair put his hand gently on Betty's back, guiding her into the main building. In one of those rare moments in the life of Grand Productions, there was no urgent matter that needed seeing to. Blair went to the second level of the main building, to the organ room. He had the specification sheets for the Tabernacle organ's several iterations there. He wanted to work on the registrations for the pieces he would be performing. The musician also needed to practice. It has long been said that practice makes perfect. That is not true. Perfect practice makes perfect. Dr. Blair had long held to this principle. He believed it. He taught it. He lived it.
The flight to Salt Lake would take approximately five hours. By dinnertime, they would be at the ranch of Josiah Young. The manuscript would be in the capable hands (and security) of the Tabernacle Visitor's Center. Captain Stearns and Cameron would be safe, and well cared for. They would just be five hours away from home. Home would have to figure out for itself how to cope with that reality.
An uneasy feeling of normalcy from days gone by settled around the estate. Missed sounds were again heard. Betty Jensen had padded quietly to her office, and was producing work as she had not done in months! She went to her tasks with a vengeance. In a couple of hours, the better part of a month's invoices and receipts had been taken care of.
In a matter of only a few moments, Melvin Blair was entranced in a far away world of classical baroque music. Transported by the strains of the Bach Prelude and Fugue, he was in a different place and time. It could have been a lazy Sunday afternoon at Pipe Dreams from days gone by. It took him quite a while, but eventually Melvin Blair was in his element again. Tweaking registrations and finding perfection in the music he loved, his was an other-worldly experience. This was, he thought, a very good thing. That was the one reality he wished to bring to everyone who heard him play: another world where pain, anger, loss and sadness just simply did not exist—at least, not in a bad way. Music is a universal language. When spoken properly, any tongue can interpret the language. With a master speaking the words and phrases, nuance could be coming from any music in such a way that you would think you had never heard it before. It was certainly true that you had never heard it expressed this way before. That was the musical moment for Dr. Blair. It was the goal of each note he played in concert. It was the stuff of his master classes.
That was the magic that was the music of Dr. Melvin Blair. Today, he was once again trying to find the door that would unlock that moment for his audience. It was not unknown territory for him. It was the one place he lived to be in, to be a part of. When he could become transparent, and the music could just BE was his perfect moment.
Well, it had been. Now? Now, there was an ache in his heart that took him a minute to readily identify. At first, it seemed alien to him, as if is should not be a part of his physical makeup. Was it a heart attack, a stroke? He ran an immediate diagnostic check of his internal systems, and found nothing wrong. Then, in a flash, it hit him. Tears formed in his eyes, and began leaking slowly down his cheek.
The tears were blinding him from the music that wasn't even on the page. The page was not on the organ's music desk. It was at 22,000 feet, heading westward. So was Cameron. He looked at his watch. Two hours. Kansas City. “Hurry, Carroll. Fly like the wind, my friend.” He couldn't help himself, willing the plane and her Chief Pilot to make haste to the promised land of Brigham Young. “Hurry. Please!”
“Damn!” He half-screamed to himself. |
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