Beethoven Forever

8/13/2019 Beethoven Forever

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eethoven ForeverMae Siu-Wai Stroshane

Lulu Books 2010


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Is he or isnt he?

A strange man appears out of nowhere and claims he is Ludwig

van Beethoven, returned from the dead. Of course thats ridiculous...or

is it?

On his first night back on earth, he nearly drowns in a New

England pond and has to be rescued by a nurse and her daughter. Its

hardly a dignified return for one of the greatest geniuses of all time!

Stefanie Sontag is amused at first, then suspicious. But her daughter

Mai seems to have a powerful psychic bond with the stranger, who

even looks like Beethoven.

Stefanies own past as a piano prodigy awakens powerful

memories, and her present longing for love draws her into the

adventure of a lifetime. And when its all over, everyone she knows and

loves will be touched by the magic of Beethovens gifts.


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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to thank my family for supporting me during the

writing of this book. Also, special thanks to my church community for

their enthusiastic response to my music over the years.

Special recognition and thanks go to Alex Stroshane for his

expertise in German and careful review of the manuscript.

Finally, I pay respectful homage to the spirit of Beethoven, who

has inspired me for most of my life.


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Prologue

A heat wave blanketed New England, the damp air invading

people's lungs and skin like a sickness that refused to go away. In this

kind of weather, nobody in his or her right mind would go out walking

for fun along a country road in the middle of the scorching afternoon.

No wonder people in passing cars stared in amazement at the man

tramping along the side of the road outside Boston, miles from any

settled town.

Oblivious of the stares, he kept moving as he had for hours

now, sweat streaming down his broad forehead, his purposeful stride

contrasting oddly with the lazy pace of life around him. As if that

weren't strange enough, he was wearing clothes that couldn't have been

more ill-suited for summer in New England--baggy dark green

trousers, a billowing white shirt, dusty black knee-boots, and a heavy

black coat that he had slung carelessly over one shoulder. From time to

time, a few derisive jeers from passersby made him look up, but he

didn't stop moving.

As the hours passed, his pace slowed, but he forced himself to

keep going, puffing in rhythm to the steady throbbing in his head. The

fiery red setting sun hurt his eyes, and his mouth felt full of dry dust

even as sweat drenched his collar and back. With every step, his body

groaned under its unaccustomed weight, his sore feet threatening to

give out altogether under the load they were being forced to carry. In

his years away, he had forgotten how demanding the body could be,


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how subject to annoying aches and pains and hunger. He had always

taken pride in ignoring physical discomfort, and saw no reason why he

shouldn't be able to now.

Still, there were limits to what one could endure. When tiny

black spots began to dance dizzily before his eyes, he left the road and

set out across an open field towards a distant line of trees. They

promised shade and possibly houses where he could beg a drink of

water. That much he could allow himself. No sense in wrecking his

body, or it would never carry him through the challenges that lay

ahead.

As he plowed through the long yellow grass, the smell of hay

tickled his nostrils and made him sneeze, startling him out of his weary

trance. Tiny whirring insects buzzed around his face and arms, and he

slapped at them, perversely pleased at the irritation. No matter where

one went in the world, it seemed, Nature stayed the same.trees, grass,

and sky, the warm smells of damp earth and animal droppings, even

bugs that stung him and drew blood as if he were an ordinary human

being. He found that reassuring. In so many ways, life hadn't changed

since his time. Maybe there was hope for the world after all.


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I.

"I'm tired, Mom!"

Her daughter's piercing whine, the eternal plaint of the hungry,

needy child, set Stefanie Sontag's teeth on edge. For a moment she

shut her throbbing eyes against the setting sun, then opened them, took

a deep breath, and gripped the steering wheel so hard her knuckles

whitened.

"Almost home, kiddo," she said brightly. "I can already see the

exit up ahead. We'll be home in a jiffy."

Mai turned a scathing glare on her mother. She wasn't fooled.

"It's ten more miles," she stated flatly. She squirmed in her

seat, and then slumped against the car door again so that the seatbelt

nearly choked her. "I'm tired," she repeated in a small strangled tone.

Stefanie sighed and inched the Honda forward, squinting

through the blue-tinted glass. A line of red tail-lights stretched as far

as she could see. Damn! The ride home from the airport was turning

out to be worse then going there.

She glanced at her daughter. Mai's creamy porcelain skin had

darkened to honey tan in her weeks away, a legacy of her Asian blood.

Her bangs would need trimming now.they hid her long-lashed eyes like

a Shetland pony. Despite the sticky streaks of dried chocolate ice

cream on her cheek, her skin looked as smooth and soft as it had when

she was a baby dozing blissfully between her parents on the big brass

bed, that first day home from the hospital. Stefanie suddenly longed to


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stroke that cheek and cradle her long-legged daughter on her lap so that

she could kiss away the hurt.

A car honked. As Stefanie hastily shifted gears, she reflected

that changing gears described precisely what she and Mai would have

to go through now. This had been her seven-year-old daughter's first

trip cross-country alone, and Stefanie had worried that she was too

young to go that far without an adult, but the airline had assured her

that Mai would be fine. A flight attendant would be responsible for her

at all times, from parent to parent, coast to coast. Mai had begged for

the chance to do this and Stefanie had finally given in. It did save her a

lot of money this year.

Saying good-by to Mai three weeks ago had been harder than

she'd anticipated, but now that they were together again, Stefanie could

feel distance between them. She had to admit she'd enjoyed being able

to come home at night and put on her favorite CDs without having to

hear a blow-by-blow description of Mai's Day at Camp. On the

weekends she had been able to sleep late and read the entire Sunday

paper, go for a long swim, and have a leisurely lunch with her best

friend Rennie, when her kids were at their father's place for the

weekend.

I could get used to this, she had thought several times, then

immediately felt guilty for enjoying her solitude too much. Like most

mothers, Stefanie specialized in guilt. She worried about not spending

enough time with her daughter, about Mai not having enough friends,

about her not seeing her father enough, and about their living in a town


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where even a trace of foreign blood marked you as an outsider. She

missed the close circle of friends she'd had in San Francisco before Mai

had come along, but after she'd gotten pregnant unexpectedly, it had

been her decision to have the baby and move back to Boston even if

things didn't work out with Doug. She had gone into single parenthood

with both eyes open but some days she wished it weren't such a lonely

business.

During these last weeks she had half-hoped she might meet

somebody male and reasonably mature, but despite two or three nights

out with Rennie at the popular local club, they hadn't run into anyone

even mildly interesting. Besides, in 1993, the days of casual one-night

stands were over. You didn't dare risk your life for just anyone until

you'd made sure he wasn't HIV positive, and that added a definite

awkwardness to intimacy these days."Excuse me, I think you're cute.

Have you been tested for HIV?" The rules hadn't been written yet on

how to handle that sort of thing tactfully. Meanwhile, you stayed

celibate and carried condoms in your purse in case of emergencies.

Stefanie shook her head, annoyed with herself for getting stuck

on that loop again. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that

dinnertime had come and gone.

"Tell you what," she said aloud with forced cheerfulness.

"Why don't we get some chicken nuggets and then go see a movie? It'll

be nice and cool in the theater."

"What's playing?" Mai asked warily.


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Taken aback, Stefanie said, "Oh, I don't know, honey. There's

bound to be a Disney film somewhere."

Mai stuck out her tongue. "Those are for babies!"

"You're only seven," Stefanie retorted. "And you loved

"Beauty and the Beast." They'd watched it so often that Mai knew all

the songs and every word of the dialogue, and by osmosis, Stefanie

did, too.

"I hate Disney movies," Mai mumbled. Then she sat up.

"Know which one I like best now?"

"Let me guess," Stefanie said. "Batman?"

"Oh, Mom." Mai rolled her eyes. "At Daddy's house we

watched "Home Alone." Jennifer thought it was stupid but I liked it."

"You saw that?" Stefanie grimaced. She hated the whole idea

of it. What kind of parents would leave a little kid behind and fly off to

Europe?

Mai giggled. "That boy is sooo cute! And smart, too." She

looked up at her mother's sour expression and said defiantly, "It was a

good movie." She put her sandaled feet up on the dashboard and began

grinding sand deliberately into the bumpy plastic surface. Stefanie

gritted her teeth but didn't say anything. She had a feeling that soft-

hearted Doug had let Mai get away with this sort of thing, and that Mai

would need some intensive debriefing. That was the problem with

visiting her notoriously indulgent father. Mai always came back

wanting things and more things. "Why can't I have a VCR in my room

at home? At Daddy's house I do." "How come we can't have a pool in


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the backyard like Daddy and Jennifer?" With Cornwall Pond

practically in their backyard, a pool would seem hopelessly redundant,

not to mention outrageously expensive.

On her nurse's salary, Stefanie felt lucky to even own a small

home. But Mai didn't understand that. Doug had his comfortable

research position at UCLA and no other kids. His wife Jennifer

worked as a freelance artist, so she always had time to indulge Mai

royally during her stay. It was always a rude shock for Mai to come

back to the daily grind of summer camp while Stefanie worked the day

shift at the local hospital, then picked her up for quick meals at

McDonald's or at best, stir-fried noodles and chicken at home.

Evening entertainment often consisted of watching rented videos,

playing Nintendo, or hanging out with Rennie and her kids. Not

exactly nonstop excitement. Stefanie felt she was generally managing

well as a mother, but some days her patience wore thin. She hoped this

wouldn't be one of them.

They left the highway at last and turned onto the road towards

home. Mai fell asleep and Stefanie wished she could too. When she

finally pulled into her driveway, she felt as if her legs were made of

rubber.

She woke up Mai and led her, yawning and complaining, up

the steps, then fumbled in the pocket of her uniform for her house key.

It wasn't there.

Cursing under her breath, she moved directly under the porch

light and groped through all of her pockets, then her purse.


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"What's wrong, Mom?" Mai, fully awake now, swung back

and forth on the black wrought iron railing.

"I can't find my key. I could have sworn it was on this key

ring." Stefanie kept searching through her things, trying not to panic.

"Daddy never loses his key. How come you do it so much?"

Stefanie snapped, "This is the first time this has happened..."

she hesitated. "...Since Easter."

Mai gave her an I-told-you-so look. Stefanie capitulated.

"Okay, okay, so maybe I'm a little bit scatterbrained. Believe

me, Daddy makes mistakes too. Just not ones like these." She could

almost hear Doug's precise voice."You have to be organized, Stef. Plan

ahead. Make lists."

She had sneered and called him anal-compulsive, but she had

to admit that at times like this, the doctor knew best.

"I guess I'll have to go ask Mrs. Cochrane for the spare." She

plodded across the wet

grass to her next-door-neighbor's house, and tapped on the front

door.

The gray-haired woman answered almost at once. "Steffie,

what's the problem? You look terrible!"

Gee thanks, thought Stefanie. I needed that compliment to lift

my spirits. She explained her problem, borrowed the extra key, and let

Mai into the house, then hurried back to Mrs. Cochrane.


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"Now see, if you had a husband, he'd look after you." The

older woman wagged her finger playfully. "You modern girls are too

independent and look where it lands you."

"Different strokes for different folks," Stefanie said mildly, but

inwardly she was seething. A husband was no guarantee that you'd

never have any problems. In fact, they caused problems, from what

she'd seen, like Rennie's ex who couldn't seem to give up drinking no

matter how many times he'd been in detox.

Later that evening as Stefanie curled up in bed with The Mists

of Avalon, a wonderful epic about the women in the King Arthur

legends, something strange caught her ear. At first she dismissed it and

went back to avidly drinking in the gorgeous medieval pageantry and

passionate drama. Then she realized she was hearing music. It

sounded as if it were coming from downstairs, which was odd, since

she'd turned out all the lights and shut off the stereo before coming

upstairs.

Puzzled, she put down the book and slipped out of bed. In the

dark hall, the music sounded louder. Someone was playing the piano!

But who?

As she passed Mai's door, she noticed it was ajar. She had

closed it earlier when Mai had stumbled into bed after barely touching

her supper.

She peeked in and saw that Mai's bed was empty. Alarmed,

she hurried down the carpeted stairs to the living room.


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In the bluish glow of the streetlight, her little girl sat at the old

black upright piano, dressed only in her favorite faded Minnie Mouse

nightgown from nearly two years ago. Her small head was bowed over

the keys, her hair hiding her face as she played.

The music sounded familiar, but she couldn't quite place it.

She watched Mai's small hands groping hesitantly along the keys,

moving more confidently as she went along. As she settled into the

music, she tilted her head back in obvious bliss, and Stefanie saw with

a shock that her eyes were closed. What on earth.? She'd never seen

Mai play anything from memory. What was going on?

Slowly she went towards her daughter, her bare feet tingling on

the thick soft carpet.

"Mai?"

No answer. The music rolled on, simple but hauntingly

beautiful. Stefanie had never heard Mai play so well before. Maybe

her eighteen months of lessons were beginning to pay off.

At last the music died away in a breath of sound. Mai sat for a

long time, entranced, her hands still on the keys.

Stefanie leaned over. "Mai?"

Still the little girl made no response. Stefanie waved her hand

in front of Mai's face. Nothing. Suddenly frightened, she shook Mai's

shoulders.

"Mai, wake up!

Slowly Mai opened her eyes and gazed up at her mother.

"Mom? What are you doing in my room?"


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"This isn't your room, Mai. You came downstairs, remember?"

"Huh?" Mai started, and then looked down at herself.

"What'm I doing down here? Did you come and get me?"

Stefanie shook her head. "I found you in here playing all by

yourself. Don't you remember?"

The little girl squinted, her forehead puckered in thought. "I

sort of remember dreaming about having a piano lesson. I kept hearing

the music but it sounded far away." She got up shivering, but said in a

perfectly normal voice, "I'm thirsty, Mom. Can I get a drink of water?"

"Sure." They moved slowly up the stairs, Stefanie too

distraught to ask any more questions. After Mai had her drink, she

tucked her daughter back into bed and left her snoring peacefully as if

nothing had happened.

Stefanie went back to her room and picked up her book, but the

words slid past her eyes without any meaning. At last she turned out

the light and lay back against the pillow. What had California done to

her little girl? She was tempted to call Doug long distance and ask if

Mai had acted strange in any way, but then decided she would wait and

see what the summer would bring. Her three weeks of vacation were

definitely over.

II.


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Gradually life returned to normal. Stefanie took Mai to her

summer camp, went to work, picked up Mai, fixed dinner, watched a

movie, and at night lay on her rumpled bed gasping in the stifling heat.

One sticky night Stefanie impulsively took Mai down to the

pond for a swim. Although the water was shallow near the shore, it

dropped off suddenly in the middle, and a posted sign warned, "NO

LIFEGUARD ON DUTY.SWIM AT YOUR OWN RISK." The local

people ignored the warning and often went swimming, but not usually

at night. Stefanie and Mai had the beach all to themselves. Giggling,

splashing in the cool water near the edge, Mai seemed delighted with

their adventure. Stefanie smiled, feeling she had done something right

at last.

As they sat on the sand in the moonlight, drying their hair with

towels, Mai whispered, "Mom, are you scared?"

"No, why? This is practically our backyard."

"I heard something just now. It sounded like a wolf howling."

Mai shivered.

"Probably just the Cochranes' dog. It hates being tied up at

night." But Stefanie looked around uneasily. The moon had gone

behind a cloud and the sky was suddenly very dark. Time to get home.

Suddenly they both heard a noise. It seemed to be coming

from nearby, a muffled yelling and splashing.

"Mom, I'm scared!" Mai wailed. "Let's go home now!"

"Hush, wait.I hear words." Stefanie stood up and peered at the

dark water.


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"Help..."

"There's someone out there!" She cupped her hands around her

mouth and yelled, "We're coming.hang on!"

The voice sounded closer now, hoarse and raspy. "Ich kann

nicht schwimmen! I cannot swim."

For a moment Stefanie froze, recognizing the sound of

German. She hadn't spoken the language much since her father had

died, but had never quite lost it.

Mai screamed, "Mom, do something!"

Stefanie broke free of her shock and waded into the water. She

was a strong swimmer, and though she had never rescued someone

before, she thought she could manage it. The water rose to her chest,

and she struck out towards the flailing figure with sure strokes.

"Kommt hier!" she gasped, drawing on her store of childhood

German. "Deinen Hand.give me your hand!"

The man splashed about ineffectually, drifting further away.

Stefanie's lungs burned, and she felt herself tiring. She hadn't realized

the water was this deep. A little closer, and she would be able to reach

him.

She called to him again, and he reached towards her. As their

hands joined, he nearly pulled her under with his frantic grip. Choking

on a mouthful of water, she struggled to stay afloat. She could hear

Mai screaming, and saw her tiny figure dancing in agitation on the

sand.she had never seemed so far away.


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With a final rush of adrenaline, she found the strength to swim

back to shore with her burden. Her feet touched bottom and she braced

herself in the sand, hauling the man behind her. He crawled onto the

beach and collapsed, coughing violently. Stefanie stumbled after him

and did the same.

"You did it, Mom! You did it!" Mai danced around joyfully.

"Mom, you're a hero!"

Stefanie didn't feel like a hero. She felt sick. As she sat next to

the prone man and struggled to catch her breath, she saw that Mai was

circling around them, watching them with great curiosity. The man

rolled onto his back and lay there, shivering. Stefanie reached for her

towel, and scooped it up. As she started to drape it over him, she saw

that he was naked.

She recoiled, then quickly recovered herself and covered as

much of him as possible. His shivering subsided, and he closed his

eyes, breathing deeply.

Stefanie got to her feet shakily, and called Mai. The little girl

came trotting up. Stefanie whispered, "Look around and see if you

can find any clothes. This guy's been skinny-dipping."

Mai giggled. "I know, Mom. I saw." She went along the sand,

and presently gave a shout. "Over here! There's some pants and a shirt.

Oh, and some boots. Wow, these look really old."

Stefanie went over to her. Next to the clothes was a black coat

spread out like a blanket. She picked up the clothes and shook the

sand out of them, wrinkling her nose, and carried them back to the


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man. Mai struggled over with the boots, exclaiming, "Pee-yew! They

stink."

She found the man sitting up, clutching his head. His dark hair

was plastered to his forehead, and rivulets of water ran down his back

and broad shoulders. He looked up as she dropped the clothes on the

sand beside him.

"Danke...Thank you for saving me..."

"How are you feeling?"

"Sick," he said. "Cold."

"But alive," Stefanie reminded him.

He nodded. "Alive, yes."

Mai came trotting up with the boots. "You're lucky we came

down here, you know that? You could have drowned."

The man looked up at her and smiled. "You are very wise, little

one. You know I needed you." He coughed and groaned, clutching the

towel tighter. Stefanie could see that he was still in shock, and could

end up with hypothermia.

"Listen, why don't you get dressed and I'll take you home."

He nodded again and began painstakingly pulling on his

ragged clothes. Stefanie turned her back discreetly.

"Put your sandals on, sweetie, and get in the car."

Mai trotted away and Stefanie turned back to the man as he got

to his feet and came slowly towards her. She was glad he spoke some

English after all. Her German was pretty rusty.

"Where do you live?" she asked.


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He shrugged. Puzzled, Stefanie persisted. "You mean you

don't know? Or you don't have a home?"

"I have come for just a little while."

"From where?" They walked towards Stefanie's car.

"I once lived in Wien.Vienna, you call it. But I have been

away from there for many years."

Stefanie felt a strange prickling on the back of her neck. She

stopped and turned to face him. "Who are you?"

The man gazed back at her calmly. "Need you ask?"

In the moonlight she studied him. There was something

familiar about his wide face and deep-shadowed eyes, the short blunt

nose and ridged jaw, but she was sure she had never met him before.

She heard Mai calling from the open window. "Mom."

"Not now, Mai!"

"But I have to tell you something. Come here."

Stefanie sighed and went to her. "What's so important?"

"I know who he is."

Both adults stared down at her. Now that she had their full

attention, she turned coy, hiding her face in her hair. "At least I think I

do," she said in a tiny voice.

The man squatted down next to the car until he could look

directly into Mai's eyes. Stefanie watched uneasily as they regarded

one another for a long moment.

"Well? Out with it, Mai!" She finally broke the tense silence.


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Mai said softly to the stranger, "You're Beethoven, aren't you?

I saw you in my dream."

He smiled, but before he could answer, Stefanie blurted, "What

dream, Mai? What are you talking about?"

Still the little girl hesitated, and Stefanie wished she could

shake an answer out of her. At last Mai whispered, "Last week...I

dreamed that I was playing the piano and Beethoven was giving me

something to learn. He said, 'Play my music, little one. I wrote it for

you.'" She looked up at Stefanie with distant eyes. "I keep hearing it

in my head. It won't go away!" Stefanie listened, mesmerized.

Then she shook her head in exasperation.

"Mai, I hate to tell you this, but Beethoven is dead, like

Grandpapa. People don't come back from the dead."

Mai's face crumpled, and she hid her face against the seat.

Stefanie smoothed down the little girl's wet hair and wished she hadn't

spoken so harshly.

She turned and stared at the man, who got to his feet

awkwardly. To think that this guy had the nerve to think he was the

greatest composer of all time!

""You're crazy! You can't possibly be Beethoven!"

He shrugged and didn't answer. Stefanie backed away and said,

"Look, mister, in case no one told you, Beethoven died in 1827, which

means that for a hundred and sixty-odd years, his bones have been

making the flowers grow in Vienna." Suddenly she was shaking.

"You'd better come up with a better story than that or the police are


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going to haul you away to the mental ward, if you aren't from there

already."

He looked so shocked by her tirade that she almost laughed,

then quickly sobered. Things had gone far enough. It was time to get

home to a nice warm bed and leave this nut to his own fate. She had

done enough.

She hurried around to the driver's side of the car, climbed in,

and slammed the door. He came running towards her, but she hastily

rolled up the window and started the engine.

"Wait!" He pounded on the glass. "Help me...Stefanie!"

Her blood ran cold. Slowly she opened the window a crack.

"How do you know my name?"

The man smiled unexpectedly, his white teeth gleaming in the

moonlight. He said, "Du hast meine Musik gespielt.you have played

my music."

"See, Mom? I told you," Mai hissed in a stage whisper.

Stefanie shook her head in disbelief. "Uh-uh...this can't be for

real. I can't take any more of this!" She rolled the window back up, let

out the clutch, and stomped on the accelerator. As the car roared away

in a spatter of gravel, she glimpsed the man waving frantically and

shouting something. Then he faded from view.

She drove towards town, her heart hammering wildly. Mai

wailed and protested, "You shouldn't have done that, Mom!"

"Quiet!" Stefanie snapped, and Mai subsided into quiet

sniffling.


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The moon had risen well over the trees by the time they arrived

back at the house. Stefanie had never felt so tired in her life, except

possibly after giving birth to Mai. They went inside, and Mai stumbled

up the steps, already half-asleep. She went straight to her room and

burrowed into her bed without saying good-night.

Numb with exhaustion, Stefanie got into her nightgown and

collapsed on her bed, but sleep was a long time coming. She couldn't

stop thinking about the man. It was totally crazy, but she found herself

wishing she hadn't abandoned him. Something about him stirred her

and reminded her of her father. The way he had pronounced her

name."Shtefani," with the same thick German accent, the music he

spoke of...tears slid down her cheeks, even after all these years.

Nothing could bring her father back, no amount of wishes and prayers

had spared him three months of hideous pain. His death had been a

blessing.

If people could really come back from the dead, it seemed

logical that her father would have tried it, or sent a message by some

supernatural means. But Beethoven? Why would he bother to come

back to earth, reappearing as a half-drowned rat in the middle of

Cornwall Pond? His music had placed him among the great immortals

of all time. What more could he want, especially when his own life

had been such a torment? The whole idea was absurd.

The night wore on. At last, Stefanie fell asleep, but she was

haunted by a nagging sense of regret, as if she'd lost something


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irretrievably sweet, or betrayed someone she'd loved and never known

she'd loved until it was too late.

III.

Stefanie woke at dawn to birds chirping outside her window.

She stretched, yawned, and wondered why her back hurt so much.

Then she remembered.

She sat up, groaning, and felt for her bathrobe. Rubbing her

burning eyes, she stumbled out of her room and paused in the hallway

outside Mai's door, tying the belt of her robe. No doubt she was still

conked out after their harrowing adventure last night. A peaceful

moonlight swim had turned into Rescue 911, and they had risked their

lives for a stranger. Now what?

Down the stairs, one at a time. She heard muffled voices

coming from the kitchen, and froze.

"What the devil.?" She went around the corner and saw Mai

sitting at the table in her Minnie Mouse nightie, a glass of milk and last

night's pizza in front of her. And across from her sat the dark-haired

man they'd rescued the night before. They looked up as Stefanie came

in.

Mai gasped, and started to stammer. The man scrambled to his

feet and stood rigid, breathing heavily as if braced for Stefanie's fury.

White-faced, she croaked, "What are you doing here?"

"He's hungry, Mom," Mai cried. "I let him in."


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Stefanie began to shake all over. "I don't believe this. How

dare you, Mai?" Her voice rose to a scream. "How dare you! Open the

door to a complete stranger? I've told you never to do that!" She

started towards Mai, but the man threw himself between them.

"Wait! Let me explain to you," he entreated. Stefanie backed

away, fighting for self-control. In the clear morning light, she had to

admit his resemblance to Beethoven was uncanny. Even more striking

were his clothes. Last night she hadn't noticed their unusual style, but

now she could see the billowing white shirt and loose black trousers,

the well-worn black knee boots that made him look like Heathcliff or a

refugee from some Dickens novel. Were they authentic or just rented

from a costume shop?

He saw her quizzical look and gestured towards the chair next

to Mai. "Pray, listen to me, and do not make hasty judgments."

Slowly Stefanie sat down next to Mai, never taking her eyes

from the man's face. "If you're Beethoven, what are you doing here in

America?"

He pulled out the chair opposite her and straddled it, leaning

forward eagerly. "I have come back...to give the world my music".

"What do you mean? What music?"

"New music. To give hope to mankind. All this killing...all this

hate...it must stop. Life is.how do you say.a gift. Do not waste it."

Stefanie pushed back her hair from her eyes and tried to take in

what she was hearing. "But your music has already inspired millions of

people. It stands for truth and beauty and joy. Your work is immortal.


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What more do you want?" She shook her head. "I can't believe I'm

saying this! Tell me who you really are and I'll help you get on your

way."

He slammed his fist on the table, his eyes suddenly fierce, and

she jumped. Up until now he had seemed gentle, almost meek. "I am

telling you and telling you! You must believe me. If you knew what I

knew, if you had been where I have been...you would not scorn me."

He sat back in the chair, his chest heaving, and wiped his mouth on his

sleeve. "Help me give my music to the world and then I will go. That

is all I ask."

"I see." Stefanie rubbed her eyes and slumped back in the

chair. Then she looked up at the clock. "Christ, I have to leave for

work in half an hour." She jumped up nervously and began banging

cupboard doors and clattering spoons, measuring coffee into the pot

and plugging it in. Mai sat quietly nibbling her cold greasy pizza,

sneaking looks at the stranger. He smiled at her but said nothing. They

waited for Stefanie to finish her work.

When the coffee was ready, she filled a mug and set it before

him, then cracked some eggs into the frying pan, glad for an excuse to

stay busy. Her brain was whirling with confusion. It was all so crazy,

but she could almost believe it was true. He seemed so otherworldly,

so authentic, his speech quaint and formal as if from another time. And

he knew her name. That reminded her of a crucial detail. Over the

hissing oil, she asked, "Where did you learn English? Beethoven was

German."


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He smiled his dazzling smile. "I have many English friends.

They teached."

".Taught."

"Taught. They taught me your language. But it does not sound

the same here in America."

Stefanie had to laugh. "Not exactly! Wait 'til you hear someone

from the South."

"This country is most interesting. I have always longed to see

the New World, where every man has freedom. That is why I chose to

come here. I never saw it in my lifetime." He leaned back and

stretched, then gazed out the window. "The trees are very beautiful. I

am glad to see this land is not spoiled."

"Oh, but it is," said Stefanie grimly. "The rivers are choked

with pollution, and there's hardly any wilderness left. Our skies are full

of poisons from the factories. You haven't seen our cities yet." She

dished out two plates of eggs and toast, then sat down and took a

mouthful of scalding coffee, almost welcoming its heat searing her

throat. The three of them ate their breakfast in silence, stealing sidelong

glances at one another.

Then Stefanie said, "I don't know if I can help you. I'm

embarrassed to say I dropped out of conservatory years ago and I don't

know any important musicians anymore. My father could have helped

you but he's gone."

"I know."


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She lifted her head in astonishment. "You do?" Mai stopped

eating and stared up at their visitor, wide-eyed.

"Of course. He was a fine cellist, nicht wahr? He played my

music with feeling, and passed it on to you." He turned to Mai and

touched her shoulder. "And you too, little one."

Stefanie felt a chill going up her spine. "How do you know?"

The man grimaced. "Our world is not like your world. More I

cannot say."

Stefanie blew out her breath. This was too much for her. She

glanced at the clock and got up. "I have to go to work now. Mai, go get

dressed." The little girl skipped out of the room, and Stefanie began to

clear the table, her mind still in a turmoil of indecision. In this day and

age, you didn't just take in strangers and feed them without risking

your life. This guy could suddenly take a notion to murder them and

bury their mutilated bodies somewhere out in the woods. It was not

unheard of.

Then she thought of her Chinese grandmother's favorite folk

tales, when ragged beggars turned out to be immortals in disguise,

heaping riches on those who were kind enough to give them food and

shelter. She smiled to herself. If anybody qualified as an immortal, it

was Beethoven! Maybe there was still some magic left in the world.

She turned, her mind made up. "All right. You can stay here

for now and rest and get cleaned up. But I suggest you not go

wandering off anywhere. The police might decide to haul you in for

questioning. They're pretty tough on strangers in this town."


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"'Haul me in?' What means that?"

"They might arrest you."

His eyes flashed at her. "But I am Beethoven! They have heard

of me, yes?"

"Don't you understand? Nobody's going to believe you. I'm

still not sure I do. If you want to be safe, I think you should use another

name for now."

"Nein!" he thundered. "I will not tell lies!" He jumped up,

knocking over his chair, and headed for the door.

Stefanie shouted after him, "Fine with me! See if anyone else

believes your crazy story. They'll turn you over to the police faster

than you can say 'Ludwig van Beethoven.' After they get their hands on

you, you'll wish you listened to me." She turned away and began

clattering breakfast dishes in the sink, running the hot water noisily.

He stood with his hand on the knob, staring out the window.

Stefanie washed the dishes with elaborate unconcern and dried her

hands on a towel.

As she turned to go, he blurted, "You are right, liebe Frau. I

will do as you say. But what will be my name?"

Stefanie said impatiently, "You're a genius, aren't you? I'm sure

you'll think of something." She went back upstairs to her own room.

Her head ached, and it was only 6:30 a.m. There was too much to

absorb. But she couldn't seem to shake free of this man with his

compelling eyes and strange story. He seemed so utterly authentic it

was baffling.


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The nurses scribbled in the charts, asked questions, and

gossiped about who was seen with whom in Boston at the Hard Rock

Cafe, and whose boyfriend got thrown out of Nick's for picking too

many fights. Stefanie sat next to her friend Rennie, who was taking a

lot of ribbing for trying to snag a long-distance trucker into marriage.

The catch was her teenaged son, who in a jealous rage had set fire to an

old tire on her front lawn.

"Even Julie says to me, 'Ma, act your age.' I'm only thirty-nine!

I'm supposed to put on a chastity belt and throw away the key?" The

nurses laughed. Rennie went on, her mouth full of chocolate donut. "A

hunk is a hunk. I'm not ready for the nunnery yet." She ran her stubby

hands through her bleached blonde curls and gave a throaty laugh.

"You better be careful or next time Jason'll burn your house

down," said Marilyn, a night nurse. She blow smoke rings at the light

fixture. "Kids don't give up that easily."

"Then I'll just move in with Sunny. She's more my type

anyway." Rennie winked at Stefanie amid general laughter. Two years

ago, an elderly patient had peered at Stefanie's nametag and said, "

'Sundog?' What an unusual name!' " For the rest of her stay she would

call out, "Oh, Miss Sundog! I need the bedpan," or "Rub my back,

Miss Sundog." Despite Stefanie's efforts, the lady resolutely refused to

pronounce the name "Sontag." The staff picked it up, and on Stefanie's

birthday, they'd given her a coffee mug that said, "You ain't nothin' but

a sun dog." Eventually "Sundog" became "Sunny." Hardly anyone


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remembered Stefanie's real name anymore, but she didn't mind.

Anything was better than "Sundog."

"Are you sure you two aren't lovers?" put in Jeri, the caustic

unit secretary. "I always see you together."

"Actually we're secretly engaged," said Rennie sweetly. "But

you're invited to the wedding." Stefanie choked on her coffee.

"What about Mister Trucker?" someone shot back.

"Oh, he'll just move in with us," Rennie said. "Sunny's got

plenty of room at her place."

"Not anymore," Stefanie said to her coffee cup as the nurses

got up to go. Rennie turned, her green eyes wide.

"What did you say?"

"I said, let's go to lunch together if we can manage it. Deal?"

"Yeah, sure. Just tell all my patients to synchronize their

bladders so Renata can eat sitting down for a change. Hah!" And she

was gone.

Stefanie went to her patients' rooms. Fortunately, she was able

to spend time with each of them today instead of having to run in, bam,

blast them with a procedure, then run off again. She took her time

changing dressings, chatting, giving backrubs, and talking to the

families. This was nursing at its best, and it didn't happen often.

There was Jean-Jacques Duroseau, a young Haitian restaurant

worker who'd survived the Duvalier regime, a dreadful sea journey,

and a crowded refugee camp in Florida, only to find his hard-won

freedom now being stolen by a diseased liver, and his life rapidly


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ebbing away. All the nurses liked Jean, whose smile could light up a

stadium. His quiet dignity during even the most painful procedures left

everyone tiptoeing from his room in speechless awe. They competed

for the chance to take care of him and fussed over his exquisite young

wife and tiny baby daughter. Since he'd had his liver transplant three

months ago, the nurses hovered over him and crowed over the slightest

sign of improvement.

Then there was Rita Hayes, a tiny woman who'd had a total hip

replacement and needed dialysis for her chronic kidney disease. She

was as fragile as a glass doll but tough and determined to recover

despite her advanced age. Stefanie always looked forward to seeing her

each morning. Today, she gently bathed the woman's papery skin and

afterwards helped her fix her sparse gray curls just so.

"I like to look pretty for the folks down in Dialysis," she

giggled. "They have to look at this old face so much, I'm afraid one of

these days they'll throw me out!"

"Never," Stefanie smiled. "You're their favorite customer."

Mrs. Hayes gazed into the small hand mirror Stefanie held for

her and sighed. "Wouldja believe I used to be a model? Now look at

me! All dried up like an old leather shoe."

"You were a model? That explains why you're so slim and

elegant," said Stefanie, and meant it. The woman smiled up at her.

"That's the nicest thing anybody here has said to me. I didn't

think it showed anymore." She dabbed at her eyes. "I used to be in all

the magazines before the war. Look, Vanity Fair...growing old is


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terrible, Sunny. Inside you're still the same person but outside, you turn

into a shriveled-up dwarf. Everybody thinks your mind dries up too."

"It's terrible how we look at aging," Stefanie agreed. "I hope I

can grow old with half as much grace as you."

"Oh, but you're lovely, dear. Such beautiful dark hair and

exotic eyes, and a complexion like honey. Are you married?"

"No, but I have a seven-year-old daughter."

"What a shame you're alone. But don't give up hope." She

patted Stefanie's cheek. "There are plenty of good men out there.

Someone's bound to see that you're a jewel."

Stefanie helped Mrs. Hayes back into her bed and went into the

little bathroom to straighten it up. She caught sight of her face in the

mirror and paused, pushing back stray wisps of hair. Am I lovely? she

wondered. She saw a haggard face with lines around the eyes. Her skin

was still smooth, but her eyes had a haunted look. I'm only thirty-two

but I look more like forty. Will I hate the mask of age that I'll soon

have to wear? Or will I be proud of my hard-earned wrinkles? She

supposed it depended on how you lived your life and whether you had

any lingering regrets. And whether you had dared to love and be loved.

So far, her track record in that area was not so good.

She thought of Mrs. Hayes' words."Someone's bound to see

you're a jewel." This morning she didn't feel anything like a jewel.

More like a rock being crushed under a giant's foot. And she wondered

what on earth Rennie would have to say about the man she'd pulled

from the water.


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IV.

She had to wait a long time to find out. After a peaceful start,

all hell broke loose. One of the bathrooms flooded. Then Jean-Jacques

suddenly began to bleed out right in front of his horrified wife, and had

to be rushed to surgery to stop the hemorrhage. Finally, one of

Rennie's patients, Mrs. Coleman, went into cardiac arrest and was

resuscitated despite her family's pleas to let her go. The code team

successfully brought Mrs. Coleman back from the brink of a peaceful

death to the living hell of intractable pain from bone cancer. She was

recovering from her second leg amputation in the last two years, but

the disease had metastasized to her spine. Stefanie always thought of

her father at times like these, and his refusal to be dissected, bit by bit,

so that he could die whole instead, on his terms. Why couldn't they let

Mrs. Coleman go gently into that night? She was seventy-nine and half

out of her mind with the pain. Rennie kept saying she couldn't take

another minute of forcing Mrs. Coleman to stay alive.

At two o'clock, things had quietened down enough for Rennie

and Stefanie to run down to the hospital's coffee shop for a quick bite.

They found a table by the window and devoured their lunch .Stefanie

had brought an avocado sandwich from home, while Rennie ate a

grapefruit and two pieces of cheesecake.


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Just don't get stuck on fad diets," Stefanie warned. "I went

through that in college. Binging, purging, the whole nine yards." She

shuddered, remembering.

"I'm worried that Julie's headed that way. She's only ten, but

she thinks she's gonna be the next Roseanne Barr. All she'll eat is

carrot sticks and Oreos."

"Where do you think she learned that from?" Stefanie asked

pointedly. Rennie sighed.

"Ned says he don't mind my love handles. You're lucky you

don't have some guy breathing down your neck. Stay single."

"Rennie..." Now was her chance. "I saved a guy from

drowning in Cornwall Pond last night."

Rennie's fork hung in the air. "No shit! Good for you. Tell me

all about it."

Stefanie told her the bare facts, but she didn't dare mention that

the man was claiming to be Beethoven returned from the dead. Not yet.

"Hey, you oughta be in the papers! Is he okay now?" Rennie

was asking.

"I think so. He's staying at my house. He looks half-starved,

but otherwise seems fine."

Rennie's green eyes flashed at her. "Did you say he's at your

house? Hoo boy, the plot thickens. I hope he's a hunk!"

"Well, he's short and kind of stocky, but muscular. Not bad-

looking." Her face grew hot as she remembered the sight of him lying

stark naked on the sand.


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"You're blushing, Sunny." Rennie wiggled her finger

mischievously. "Don't tell me you gave him a little...uh...first aid?"

"Just the straight rescue treatment. Nothing below the waist."

Rennie snorted with laughter. "So what's this dreamboat's

name?"

Stefanie took a deep breath. "Louis...uh, Bates."

"Where's he from? How old is he?"

About 220, Stefanie thought, stifling a giggle. I go for older

men.

"So when can I meet him?"

"Well, I'm not sure. I mean, nothing's really certain right

now."

"Okay, okay. I still want to meet the guy. He sounds like a

live one. How about Saturday night?"

Stefanie wasn't sure she could plan that far ahead. The whole

situation was too strange. But she agreed.

"Great! You owe me one anyway." Rennie washed down her

dessert with a glass of diet Sprite.

Stefanie leaned closer and whispered, "I have to warn you,

Rennie. The guy's a little bit strange."

"Strange how? Kinky?

"No, damn it, nothing like that! He might be...delusional."

"And you took him home anyway? Honey, you need your head

examined! I thought I had trouble judging men, but you take the cake."

She sat back, her eyes narrowing. "So what's so strange about him?"


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Stefanie put down her sandwich. "He...says that he's really

Beethoven."

Rennie gasped. "He says he's WHO?"

Two doctors at the next table turned to look at them. Stefanie

smiled nervously, and then leaned across the table. "Sh, sh, keep your

voice down. I know it sounds crazy but he's so convincing."

"But Beethoven's dead!" Rennie hissed. "Even a little ol'

cracker like me knows that."

"I know, I know. That's why I want you to meet him. He acts

totally like he's from another century. I've never seen anything like it."

The doctors had gone back to loudly discussing the recent drop

in airfares, but Stefanie sensed they were straining to hear her and

Rennie. She went on. "Before I came to work, I had to show him how

to turn on the hot and cold water in the bathroom. He says that in his

day, the maid had to lug buckets of water up four flights of stairs just

so he could take a cold bath."

Rennie gaped at her. "Yeah, go on."

"Then he sees the toilet and you'd think he was seeing God. He

starts running his hands all over the cover and exclaiming

'Wunderbar!'"

"What the hell is 'wonderbar?'"

Stefanie giggled. "That means 'wonderful' in German. He

opens the lid, plays with the flusher, looks inside the tank. And all that

time he's saying, 'How is zis accomplished? It is a miracle!' and stuff

like that."


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For once Rennie sat speechless as if turned to stone.

"Wait, it gets better." Stefanie finished her sandwich and took a

swallow of her ginger ale. "I got out my electric shaver, figuring since I

never use it, he might as well give it a try. So to test his act, I turned it

on and handed it to him. Now a modern guy would know right away

what to do with it, right?" Rennie nodded, mesmerized.

"Well, Louis just stood there stupidly with the thing buzzing

away in his hand. Then he dropped it and yelled 'Schrecklich! Was ist

das?'"

"And what does that mean?" Rennie found her voice.

"Basically, 'what the hell is that?' So now my electric shaver is

busted. He had to use a cheap disposable razor that I found in the

medicine chest. I guess it was left over from the people I bought the

house from." Stefanie spread her hands. So that's my story."

Rennie seemed torn between amazement and anger. "What are

you playing at, Sunny girl? This isn't like you!" Her lips trembled.

"Don't you go gettin' yourself murdered, Sunny. Get him to a psych

hospital stat, you hear?" She rubbed her face and glanced at her watch.

"Time's up. Back to the huddled masses yearning to breathe free." She

shoved up from the table and carried her tray to the trash window.

At the third floor they quickly stepped out and went towards the

nurses' station.

The unit secretary looked up and began singing, "Here Come

the Brides. Da dum dum dum..."


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They pressed against the glass panel next to the door, listening,

hardly daring to breathe. The music washed over them, catching them

in a surging tide of sound. Stefanie couldn't believe the creaky old

upright could produce magic like this. She had a feeling the music was

being improvised on the spot, and shivered. If that were true, she and

Mai were the first living persons to hear a Beethoven improvisation in

this century. The books she'd read all described his improvisations as

stunning in their power and complexity, spellbinding in their richness

and sheer beauty.

Stefanie closed her eyes and wished she could stay out here for

hours drinking in the glorious sounds. Even Mai listened with rapt

attention, but eventually nature won out.

"I have to go to the bathroom, Mom," she said, and so Stefanie

unlocked the door and let her in.

The grating of her key in the lock brought the music to a halt.

The man turned from the keyboard and stared up at them blankly as if

he'd been jerked from a dream. Then recognition dawned.

"Thank God it is you!" he exclaimed. "I feared it was.how do

you call them? Police." He followed Stefanie into the kitchen as she set

down her armload of shopping bags. "All day I hear the talking

machine ringing. Then it stops. Why does it do that?"

"Someone's calling on the telephone. Did you answer it?"

"Of course not! I had no idea what to do."


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Stefanie smiled. "Later I'll show you how to use it. You really

don't know, do you?" She opened the refrigerator and began putting

away the food. He peered into its lighted interior, getting in her way.

"Is this how you keep your food fresh?" Like an excited child,

he opened the freezer compartment and rummaged through the bags of

frozen vegetables and TV dinners, examining each one curiously. As

he picked up a package of peas, it slipped from his hand and fell to the

floor. Tiny green balls rolled everywhere, under the refrigerator and

around the stove.

"Ach, forgive me! I am still so clumsy!" He got down heavily

and tried to pick up each one with his thick fingers.

Stefanie took pity on him and told him not to worry. She

fetched a broom and dustpan and quickly swept up the mess. As she

dumped it in the trash, she shook her head in amazement. Either the

guy was a magnificent actor or the real thing. She had never seen

anybody so baffled by modern life. Somehow that was more

convincing than his superb piano playing; after all, many people could

do that. It was the consistency of his behavior, his otherworldliness,

that lent truth to his wild tale. After all, most Europeans had modern

appliances in their homes.

The rest of the evening passed peacefully. Stefanie fixed a light

supper of cold cuts and salad, with peach ice cream for dessert, and the

three of them ate together, enjoying a lively conversation. Mai was full

of questions that Louis, as they now called him, answered patiently as

best as he could.


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"Which do you like better, your time or ours?" Mai asked,

crumbling her sugar cookie onto her ice cream.

He propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his

hand thoughtfully. "I do not know yet. Things are different. Better, I do

not know. In my time, the streets were very dirty. People emptied their

night soil into the streets each morning, and you had to be very careful

where you walked. There were many diseases because of this." His

face clouded over. "Many babies died. When...when my own dear

mother died of lung fever, my baby sister was very weak and ill also. I

would hold her and talk to her, but she grew worse and worse. I knew

nothing about babies. She died later that same year."

Mai gasped, and Stefanie hugged her tightly. "I didn't know

you had a sister, Louis."

He nodded and blinked back tears. "She and my mother were

the only ones I truly loved as a child. My father forced me into music

at an early age and beat me to make me practice. I don't know why I

didn't come to hate music, but I was stronger than he. Always I was

hearing new sounds in my head, my own music. I soon passed far

beyond my father's skill, and he hated me for it. After my mother died,

he fell into the drinking worse than before. I had to support my family

with my earnings from the Elector's court when I was only seventeen."

"Gosh, that sounds awful." Mai's childish sympathy made him

smile. He squeezed her hand.

"So to answer your question, I think maybe each time is good

and bad in its own way. But I fear for your world because madness has


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overtaken your leaders. I lived under Napoleon, but his wars were

child's play to the bloodshed I see now. Those of us who.who have

lived before see what is possible for mankind. You live in darkness and

do not see what a gift is life. But time is not infinite. You must begin to

treasure every moment."

He was still holding Mai's hand, but he seemed to have

forgotten them. Stefanie saw the haunted look in his eyes and decided

the conversation had gone far enough. She got up briskly from the

table and said, "C'mon, you two, let's go out and look at the stars.

There's a cool breeze coming in off the river."

At bedtime Stefanie decided to give up her room and move in

with Mai for the time being. Louis had already started composing at a

furious rate and would need a refuge away from the rest of them. She

went upstairs and got her room ready while Mai and Louis improvised

silly duets together. Their music and laughter drifted up from the piano,

and Stefanie realized with a pang that she had never heard Mai laugh

this much before. She had always felt that by splitting up long ago, she

and Doug had cheated Mai out of a happy family life, though things

had to end that way. Now it seemed truer than ever. She and Mai had

never really had a man in their lives before. Is this what it could be

like?

She shook her head, trying to suppress the sudden flood of

longing and dreams that overtook her. This strange episode couldn't

possibly last.it was too unreal.


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V.

The next morning, Stefanie was awakened at dawn by

panicked shouts in German and the sound of water gushing full blast in

the bathroom. Throwing on her robe, she ran into the hall, cursing and

rubbing her burning eyes.

The bathroom door stood wide open. Their guest was standing

on the bathmat, stark naked, shouting and pointing at the overflowing

bathtub. She pushed past him, trying not to stare, and wrenched the

cold water faucet to the "off" position. Gritting her teeth, she pulled up

the sleeve of her bathrobe and plunged her arm into the water to open

the drain.

"Christ, it's cold!" she gasped. "Don't you use any hot water?"

"Nein," he said, hovering over her. "I do not like the warm

baths."

"Ugh, you must be out of your mind." She yanked the rubber

plug and the water level sank instantly, but there was still a good-sized

puddle on the floor. Louis stood watching helplessly until she grabbed

a towel from the rack and threw it at him.

"Help me mop the floor before it wrecks the ceiling

downstairs. Schnell.hurry!"

He obeyed meekly. After a few minutes they had restored the

bathroom to a reasonable state. Stefanie got to her feet and wrung out

the sodden towels.


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"All right," she said wearily. "Try again. Watch how I turn the

faucet." She demonstrated, then moved back. He fiddled with the knob

gleefully, shaking his head in amazement.

"This modern bath is truly remarkable. Mankind has made

progress after all."

"It's even better with hot water. Why don't you try it?"

"Because I prefer the cold water!" he shouted.

"Don't shout at me!" Stefanie snapped. "Next time ask me for

help if you need it. And for God's sake, cover yourself. I'm a woman,

you know." He stared at her open-mouthed, then looked down at

himself and blushed violently. She turned and slammed the door

behind her, tears stinging her eyes.

Back in Mai's room, she crawled back into her cot, shaking.

Why had she gotten so upset with him? She felt uneasy now that she

had consented to his staying with them. Heavy-eyed and groggy, she

fell into a troubled sleep until Mai bounced up singing and chirping

like an oversized bird, her tangled hair sticking up like feathers.

At breakfast Louis was boisterous and cheerful, wolfing down

pancakes with great enthusiasm and teasing Mai about her rumpled

hair, but he avoided meeting Stefanie's eyes. She felt bad for having

shamed him upstairs. There was such innocence about him.

Before he could tramp off to his composing, however, Stefanie

intercepted him and ordered him sternly to sit on the kitchen stool so

she could give him a haircut.


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"But why, Stefanie? I do not care about my looks," he

protested, running his stubby fingers through his unruly mass of hair.

"To keep you out of trouble. You look too much like

Beethoven right now. After I cut it, you'll look more like an ordinary

mortal." She couldn't resist adding, "And more American, too. Mai, get

the scissors, please."

As Stefanie combed his hair, she was surprised to find that it

was very fine and soft, not coarse and bristly as the books said. She felt

a sudden urge to bury her face in it and kiss the nape of his neck.

Instead, she ordered him to remove his shirt, which he did uneasily, for

the first time seeming self-conscious in her presence. Stefanie began to

clip the thick wavy locks. She asked Mai to fetch a towel, and draped it

over Louiss shoulders. Soon the floor was covered with black snakes

of hair. Mai ran around at their feet, giggling and picking up them up.

"I'm going to save one in my Remembering Book. So I'll

always remember you."

Louis grimaced. "Ach, there are better ways to remember me

than that, little one." He watched, bemused, as she ran off clutching a

lock of his hair as if it were made of spun gold.

"She must be crazy about you," remarked Stefanie, snipping a

stray wisp near his left ear. "She's never done that before."

"She is a jewel," he said to the wall as Stefanie circled around

behind him, surveying her handiwork. "Tell me about her father. Why

is he not here with you?"


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"It's a long story." Stefanie sighed and shook out the towel. As

she brushed bits of hair from his back, she told him briefly about

meeting Doug, their life together in San Francisco, and how things

unraveled after Mai was born. "I don't hate him. He wasn't ready to be

a father. I chose to come back here with Mai alone to be near my

mother. Doug finished medical school and went to L.A. He's a good,

caring doctor and he married a nice woman who's an artist. Mai visits

them twice a year, and Doug sends generous child support. It's better

than what a lot of women have."

Louis rubbed his itchy shoulders and stated, "I do not believe

in marriage. The woman has no freedom and often both parties regret

it. As much as I thought I wanted a wife, I am glad I never found one.

She.we both would have suffocated." He stood up abruptly. "I must

work now. Please do not disturb me." Pulling on his shirt, he stamped

off upstairs to his room.

"Well!" Stefanie muttered. "I don't blame those women a bit if

that's how you treated them." She grabbed the broom and swept up the

cuttings, dumped them in the trashcan, and banged the lid shut.

Mai bounded down the stairs. "Where's Beet.I mean 'Mr.

Bates?'"

"Upstairs working. He wants to be left alone."

Disappointment dimmed her smile. "Oh! I wanted to show him

my quartz crystal."

"Sweetie, I'm sure he'll enjoy it later. Right now he's got work

to do."


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They heard a muffled stamping and off-key singing overhead,

and Mai giggled.

"I oughta open the window. The Cochranes will think it's so

funny."

"You'll do no such thing!" Stefanie squatted down and brushed

back Mai's shiny bangs. "You've got to keep quiet about this, Mai. The

whole thing is just too weird."

"Can't I tell Cassie? She can keep a secret." Cassie was Mai's

best friend from way back in preschool.

Stefanie sighed. "Not even Cassie. She wouldn't understand."

She hugged Mai close, then stood up. "Time to go, kiddo. You know

they scream when I'm five minutes late."

* * * * * *

After work, Stefanie picked up Mai and went to Cornwall

Corners, a collection of stores done up in Ye Olde Colonial false brick

fronts with white pillars. The prices were ridiculously high, but

Stefanie thought it would take too long to drive to one of the big malls

or into Boston. She didn't dare leave Louis alone for long. Who knows

what kind of trouble he might get into? She reflected ruefully that it

was almost like having another child, one who needed almost constant

supervision.

They headed for a mens' clothing store. Stefanie had decided

Louis would need something contemporary to complete his

transformation into a modern American male, and his period clothes


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were fast deteriorating, even with careful washing by hand. But trying

to buy clothes for a man she hardly knew proved to be more difficult

that she'd thought. In "Mr. T's," the impatient salesman, who looked all

of twenty, pounced on her and tried to get her to buy the latest macho

muscle shirts and Spandex shorts in neon colors. Stefanie cringed and

Mai giggled as always. She twirled around the store calling, "Mom,

how about this?" or "I bet he'd like these." Once she was holding up an

enormous pair of drawstring Bermudas covered with hot pink, orange,

and black zigzags. Another time she picked up a pair of swim trunks

that looked as if it would barely cover a dog.

"No, Mai, that's not quite I had in mind."

"What size is the dude?" asked the salesman, popping his gum

and looking bored.

"Well, he's about my height."

"Which is?"

"Five feet five."

"A shrimp, huh?" He led Stefanie to a rack of small sizes. The

designer shirts he pointed out looked much too small for Louiss broad

chest and shoulders. Stefanie began to get discouraged.

"Look, I just need some basic T-shirts and dark pants. He's not

into all this pretty boy stuff."

"All right, lady. Don't get excited." He went over to a bargain

corner. "Here. For your basic geek."

You wise-ass, thought Stefanie. I should report you to your

boss. You're lucky to have a job in these tough times. But it was


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already 5:30, and Mai was getting hungry. She quickly made her

selections and took them to the register.

Mai skipped over to her holding up some white briefs. "What

about underwear, Mom? He doesn't have any underwear."

"Oh, one of those, huh?" The salesman smirked.

Stefanie's face grew hot. "You're right, Mai. Get a couple more

pairs just like that." They finally left the store, their shopping bag

bulging.

Buying shoes was easier. Stefanie had remembered to bring

along one of Louiss ragged boots for size comparison. The kindly

saleswoman showed her to the racks of mens' shoes and left her to

browse in peace. Stefanie selected a comfortable pair of inexpensive

loafers that matched the size of the boot.

As the gray-haired saleswoman rang up the purchase, she

looked curiously at the boot tucked under Stefanie's arm.

"May I see that boot? It looks really unusual."

Stefanie hesitated, but the woman had been so nice after that

nasty clothes salesman that she hated to turn her down.

The woman turned it over thoughtfully. "What lovely

stitching? This looks hand-made, almost Colonial." She peered inside.

"No, it's German. ' Wien, sterreich ..1804?' Can that be right?"

Stefanie gulped. "I think it's just a reproduction. My...uh,

husband bought these boots when he was stationed in Germany."


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Mai spluttered. Stefanie dug her in the ribs and politely pried

the boot from the woman's hands. They got out of there as fast as they

could and headed home.

As Stefanie opened the front door, she sensed immediately

something was different. The house felt emptier than it ever had before

Louis had dropped into their lives. She took the stairs to his room two

at a time, calling, "Louis, we're home!"

No answer. The door stood ajar like a mouth spilling secrets.

Stefanie went in and stood with her hands on her hips, surveying the

scene.

Her normally neat bedroom looked like as if a hurricane had

ripped through it. Twisted bed sheets and pages of sheet music covered

the floor. One window shade hung at a crazy angle, and a half-eaten

loaf of French bread decorated the sill. Stefanie stepped over the mess

and opened the closet.nothing.

Most of her dresser drawers had been pulled open and pawed

through. A red film of rage dropped before her eyes. Was he just a

common thief who'd put on a crazy act just to con his way into her

house? Trembling, she groped for her jewelry box in the second

drawer. Her hand bumped something small and hard under the T-

shirts, but it wasn't the jewelry box. Slowly she withdrew her hand and

found herself holding a tiny oval gilt-framed portrait of a woman with

wistful almond eyes and a long graceful neck, cascading masses of

reddish-gold hair and a low sweeping dcolletage reminiscent of the

Empress Josephine.


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She'd never heard of a thief who'd left behind a love memento.

This had to be something Louis had treasured and kept hidden. Who

was she?

"Gosh, she's pretty." Mai leaned over her shoulder. "Is that his

wife?"

"No." Stefanie felt a flash of jealousy and despair. Maybe this

was his famous Immortal Beloved. Obviously he still loved her if he'd

somehow kept her portrait all these years.

I'm just free room and board, she thought bitterly. A handy

interpreter and tour guide to the twentieth century. And she fought the

temptation to throw out every scrap of his belongings and lock the

door.

Mai was picking through the manuscripts. "Gee, look at all this

stuff! How did he write it down so fast?"

"I guess he's had a long time to compose it in his head. The rest

is just scribbling," Stefanie said, borrowing a line from a recent movie

about Mozart. Who knew where these composers got their ideas from?

She sat on the bed, biting her lip, and tried to think of what to

do. Obviously Louis intended to come back, wherever he'd gone. The

works in progress looked tremendous. If they were authentic

Beethoven works, they would dazzle the music world and shake it to

its foundations. And she, Stefanie Johanna Ming Sontag, would be

responsible for their success. It was a terrifying and wonderful

prospect. She would have to put up with this baffling genius a little

while longer.


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* * * * * *

Louis came tramping back to the house well after dark,

covered with mud and smelling like a dump, but in great good humor.

His pockets bulged with scraps of paper and pencils appropriated from

Stefanie's desk, and his shirt was torn in several places. Since Stefanie

had taken one of his boots, he'd gone barefoot. He sat down at the

kitchen table, groaning and rubbing his sore feet, shedding dirt and

twigs on the floor like a dog.

"So where have you been?" Stefanie asked, trying not to sound

like a nagging wife. She set a pitcher of water and a plate of apples and

cheese in front of him.

He took a great gulp of water and bit heartily into an apple

with his big white teeth. "I walked for a long time through the woods!

Nature is like food to me. I must get outdoors and feel the sun on my

face in order to think. And look at all the work I have done!"

Mai surveyed him with awe. "I didn't know grownups liked to

play in the mud and get dirty. Are you really a grownup?"

"What means 'grownup?'"

"You know, big people."

"I am not very big. Perhaps I am not a grow up." He smiled at

Mai and chucked her chin.

" 'Grownup.' My mom's not very big either, but she's a

grownup." Mai leaned over Louiss water glass and blew on it, making

ripples on the surface. Stefanie gasped.


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Something in his tone made Stefanie look up. She got to her

feet and leaned against the refrigerator, folding her arms. "You suffered

a lot, didn't you?" she said softly. "Not just the deafness, but all those

other bowel complaints and fevers."

Louis nodded and traced a pattern on the wet brown surface of

the table. "It was terrible. I almost welcomed the deafness at times

because I could compose undisturbed by the noises of the world. But

the rest..." he shivered. "I am so glad to be free of that life. I think my

spirit slept for a very long time afterwards. And now." he spread his

arms and grinned up at her. "I am reborn without physical

imperfections! No marks on my skin, no deafness, no pain in the liver."

He got up hastily and blurted, "I must wash up now. You need not help

me." She heard him hurrying up the stairs and into the bathroom.

Presently the water began to roar through the pipes, and she had a

strong suspicion it was icy cold.

VI.

Saturday evening arrived sooner than Stefanie had expected.

All in all, things were going smoothly, she reflected as she started the

pot boiling for lasagna. She and Mai were getting used to hearing the

strange sounds of a genius at work. humming, growling, stamping, and

random improvisations on the piano that sometimes sparked a new idea

or theme. More difficult to adjust to were Louiss changing moods,

especially when he was in the middle of a particularly thorny problem.


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He would slam the door in her face, or ignore her greeting. After that

first night, he seldom took his meals with them, preferring instead to

pick from a tray that Stefanie brought up to his room. Sometimes he

left an entire meal untouched in his preoccupation, and the room began

to smell of leftover salami and moldy cheese. A growing pile of

manuscripts accumulated in one corner.parts of a new symphony, a few

songs taken from Shakespeare and Schiller, and some assorted

chamber works. Stefanie was dying to hear the new music, but seldom

did. Most of it seemed to take shape in Louiss head, if it hadn't been

there already. After all, he'd had more than a hundred and sixty years

to come up with new ideas.

After work on Friday, she and Mai had gone to the local library

to find out as much as they could about Beethoven. As Mai spluttered

and giggled, Stefanie asked the librarian for help. The pale young

woman directed them to the music section.

"This is all we've got," she said. "But I can order more from

Boston if you want them."

"Thanks." Stefanie pulled out the two biographies and took

them over to the table. Mai hung over her shoulder, breathing the smell

of peppermints as Stefanie leafed through the first book.

"Ooh, that looks just like him!" Mai exclaimed. The miniature

portrait showed a proud young composer, elegantly attired in dazzling

white linen and black coat, his tousled black hair and vivid dark eyes

seeming to jump off the page at them. His expression was pleasant,


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painted line on the sidewalk to the great landmarks of the American

Revolution.

Stefanie and Mai soon wilted in the July heat, but Louis, as

excited as a child, bounded up the stone steps of the gold-domed State

House and through the doors, only to come bursting out again at the

sight of the uniformed security guard. After admiring the view of the

Public Garden and the Common, they went down a narrow street past

the Park Street Church. At the busy corner, Louis stopped to gaze up

at the spire above him and nearly got run over by one of Boston's

notoriously impatient drivers.

In the cool shade of a towering office building, they entered the

gates of the Old Granary Burying Ground and began to read the

headstones of the great leaders.Sam Adams, James Otis, and Paul

Revere. At the sight of those famous names, Louis stopped in his

tracks, suddenly still. Impulsively he bowed his head and knelt

reverently in the middle of the stone walkway, oblivious of the stares

and whispers of the other sightseers. Mai squirmed in embarrassment,

and Stefanie tactfully led her away and explained in a whisper that

many Europeans had greatly admired the American leaders for

breaking away from an unjust king and founding a new country of

freedom across the ocean. Still, she wondered how the modern world

must feel to someone who'd actually lived during the time of the

Revolution. She tried to imagine coming back to earth in, say, the year

2100.how frightening and alien it would seem!


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At last Louis joined them, but he had a distant, haunted look in

his eyes and he answered their questions in monosyllables.

"Would you like to go home?" Stefanie asked, taking his arm

as they left the cemetery.

"Home?" he repeated blankly.

"I mean Cornwall. My house."

They stood on the sidewalk in the oppressive heat, jostled from

all sides by impatient tourists, assaulted by blaring boom boxes and car

horns, their nostrils filled with the smells of car exhaust and fried food.

Mai complained that her head hurt, and Louis slumped against the

stone gatepost, ashen-faced and silent. Stefanie decided it was time for

a lunch break and steered them towards Faneuil Hall.

At Durgin Park they battled the noontime crowd and finally

secured a table. To Mai's delight, Stefanie ordered hot dogs, a bowl of

cheesy nachos, and big chilled drinks.root beer for Mai, real beer for

the adults.

The hearty food and drink revived their spirits. Louis gazed

avidly at the people around them, intrigued by their bright-colored

clothes. But clearly he'd had enough of American city life for one day.

After lunch, they headed back to the relative peace and quiet of

Somerset Road. Mai curled up with a "Garfield" comic book. Stefanie

took a short nap, then went downstairs. She found Louis wandering

around restlessly, stopping at the piano briefly to pick out a few stray

ideas but unable to settle down. He looked so unhappy that she finally

sat him down on the sofa and slipped a pair of headphones over his


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ears, hoping to cheer him up with some his own music in crisp,

gorgeous stereo. Then she had put on a recording of the 'Missa

Solemnis,' a work he had never heard in life, and waited for his

reaction.

To her astonishment, he had torn off the headphones almost

immediately and shouted, "Stop! Stop, I beg you!"

She hit the "OFF" button and asked, "What's the matter, Louis?

Don't you like it?"

He stammered, "What.what is that monstrous noise? The pitch

is wrong, the notes are wrong, it hurts my ears...maybe it was better to

be deaf!"

Stefanie slid the compact disc back in its rack, baffled and hurt.

"I'm sorry, I had no idea. Most people love to hear your music that

way. They can't always go to concerts, so this is the next best thing."

Louis stared up at her, aghast. "Truly? I cannot believe they

think they are hearing Beethoven! This is not real music!"

She couldn't help giving a derisive snort. "Try telling that to

Lenny Bernstein! This is how we do it nowadays, you see. The world

is so big it's not possible to hear a lot of the great musicians in live

concerts. Besides, how do you expect to get your new work out to the

public?"

"Subscriptions, engraved editions."

"Louis, wake up! This is the twentieth century. We don't have

royal patrons anymore! It all depends on mass media and promotion. If

the public likes it, then they'll buy it." Stefanie had done her


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homework, and done it well. She added slyly, "This is art in a

democracy. Vox populi and all that. Isn't that what you wanted?"

He sank back against the cushions and didn't answer, his brow

furrowed in thought. Finally he said, "Then I must rely on this Dreck

to make my music immortal?"

She took pity on him and said, "I think there will always be

musicians who can play your works, and audiences to hear them. The

music will never die as long as there are those who love it."

Louis looked up at her and said simply, "Thank you, Stefanie.

I am glad to know that." He smiled his rare, sweet smile and she found

herself wishing for the thousandth time that he could stay with them

forever. No matter how it ended, this was a magical moment in all of

their lives. Why not enjoy it to the fullest?

As they gazed at one another now, he said softly, "You have

been so good to me, Stefanie. I hope you will not regret it."

She was about to reply when Mai came bounding in, clamoring

for Louis to come outside and play catch with her. The tender moment

was shattered. Laughing, he allowed Mai to pull him from the sofa and

out to the back yard, while Stefanie ground her teeth, frustrated at how

close they might have come to intimacy. But she couldn't really be

angry at Mai.her daughter was far better at communicating with Louis

than Stefanie, and in some ways, she was the glue holding together this

strange alliance.

When she had finished her chores, she went outside and stood

on the deck, sipping her coffee, watching the two of them. As might be


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expected, Louis was hopelessly inept at any kind of sports, having had

no time for even the simplest games as a child. Stefanie almost cried at

how tactfully Mai pretended it was all part of the game, cheerfully

climbing over the fence into the Cochranes' yard again and again to

retrieve one of Louiss wildly errant balls.

By six o'clock, however, the house was quiet. Mai was

upstairs reading Charlotte's Web and Louis was hard at work again in

his room. Stefanie drained the lasagna and began to layer it in a pan

with plenty of tomato sauce, ricotta cheese, and meat. Rennie and her

gang would be here soon. She had lost all desire to have guests

tonight, but it was too late to back out now.

Half an hour later, Mai ran into the kitchen. "They're here,

Mom!" She plucked a cherry tomato from the salad bowl and popped it

in her mouth. "I'll go tell Louis."

"Well, be careful. He might bite your head off if you catch him

at the wrong moment." Stefanie began to set the table, steeling herself

for the evening ahead.

VII.

Rennie swung into the kitchen carrying a bakery box, closely

followed by a hulking blond man in a black "Grateful Dead" T-shirt,

with very hairy arms.

"Smells better than mine, don't it, Ned? Sunny's a mean cook.

Must be her Chinese blood."


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Stefanie snorted. "For lasagna? Gimme a break."

"I brought something real special for tonight," Rennie said

archly. "German chocolate cake!"

"Thanks a bunch, Rennie." Stefanie rolled her eyes. She wip

Beethoven Forever

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Transcript of Beethoven Forever