After The Silence Ch. 01

After The Silence

Lost but found... at sea.

A/N - Please enjoy this fictional series. The idea and character came to me while researching a potential vacation. It brings together my love of music, vacations, and the ability for one to express themselves.

I'm not certain how many chapters this will be, this will be a continual series posting to different genres. I hope you enjoy and follow along.

????Prelude????

Annie Marks

The immediate silence in my Georgia Avenue apartment felt nothing like the hushed, anticipated sounds of the orchestra before I raised my baton. No, this was the silence before an argument broke fierce, and before fingers got pointed, or accusations were made, or worse yet, confirmed.

Which I will say, I wanted nothing to do with. He knew that, he knew it wasn't in me, it wasn't my nature to fight. It's my nature to defend, defend myself. But I couldn't resist, so I slipped.

"Damn you Derrick, you ... slept... you... she was in our apartment! In our bed!

There was silence, as if one of the ghosts which haunt the orchestra pit and backstage rooms of the theater held a hand over his mouth. I stood by the exposed brick wall, my arms crossed tightly over my chest.

"Say something, say anything Derrick!"

At thirty-three, I had spent my life learning how to control a room with the flick of a wrist, or the tap of my baton. I was able to control the eyes of sixty musicians in perfect unison, with a thin white baton. I was able to control and breathe through the most complex Sondheim time signatures. Through soft and absolutely complex Bach concertos.

But I couldn't stop the man standing across from me from fucking another woman in my bed.

It made me shiver.

"My fucking bed Derrick! The same bed you knelt on, months ago and proposed... Wait, what was it you said to me? Blissful love with life blossoming ..... or some vile spewing crap like that?"

He didn't say anything, the coward didn't speak. No he just packed his large canvas duffle bag which sat on what was once our bed, on the one she was in, damn him!

"Damn you say something!" Nothing, "Four years Derrick we've been together for four years, we've been engaged for nine months, why?"

Finally he found the courage. "She's just... different, Annie." he said, his voice flat, trying to sound reasonable but he was failing. "She's adventurous. She moves when the wind changes. With you, everything is a rehearsal, every moment is planned, precise, as if it is academic. It's boring, you're boring!"

Boring I thought to myself, if he only knew. "So what? Suddenly after four years I'm boring?" I asked.

The statement hit me like a slap in the face, he should have done that, I think it would have hurt less. I closed my brown eyes, the same ones which usually twinkled under the soft light above my piano, or under the stage lights in front of the orchestra. I didn't scream. I didn't throw anything at him.

No, not me, not the Associate Maestro. I knew that when a piece of music or an orchestra went completely off the rails, yelling only made it louder. I just held my composure.

"You know, I'd assumed it was an accident that you left the invoice on the kitchen island ten months ago, Derrick." I said, my voice calm.

He didn't say anything, I finished. "You knew the jeweler wouldn't release it until the final two installments were paid. I know exactly how much this cost. And I know whose credit card was charged for those last two payments. I'm an artist, a very skilled pianist and musician, I am not a fool."

I slowly slid the intricately woven platinum and gold twisted band off my left ring finger. It caught the dim afternoon light. Despite the absolute wreckage inside my chest and despite the mental strain of this morning, I finally said.

"Maybe I was a fool accepting this from you." With a soft, metallic clink, I dropped the ring into the near empty crystal bowl where his keys were, where he always put his keys.

"Take it," I whispered. "Give it to her, pawn it. Tell her it's a token of your adventurous side, good riddance Derrick!" He flinched, zipped the bag, picked up the ring and his keys then left without another word.

The walls shivered and shook as the front door slammed shut, it shut so hard I swear I felt it in my teeth.

I collapsed against the wall, the cool brick holding me steady. I looked at my bed where she had sex with him. I turned green ready to vomit.

"Oh gawd!" I ran to my bathroom and did, I lost all control, and for the first time in my life, I not only spun out of control, I was sick to my stomach being in my bedroom.

After cleaning my mess, not making it to the toilet in time, I found my way to the living room and my couch.

Just before I closed my eyes I sent Marcie, my agent, a text. 'I need to meet with you as soon as I can. I'll explain why, Friday ten o'clock let's have coffee please.'

????

Friday morning I woke up with a kink in my back and with hot spots on my left hip and knee. I mumbled, "What do you expect, you're thirty-three, you shouldn't sleep on the couch three nights in a row."

Somehow I made it through my morning jog, I showered and ate breakfast. That's if you can call a half of a banana, a spoonful of Greek yogurt and a half slice of orange marmalade toast, breakfast.

I sat at my kitchen table in my panties, without a bra. I nearly screamed, "Look I'm not boring! I ate breakfast nearly naked!" I walked to the bedroom and looked in my closet, the size four dresses glared at me, teasing me.

"I wonder if "Miss Not So Boring" is as thin and trim as me, a petite size four, or was that the problem, my waistline is too small and my breasts are only a B cup at best?" I murmured. "Men!"

Don't ask why but that caused the first smile in a long time. I smiled for a second remembering when Mary Stevenson and I first made love, she never complained. Hell she hadn't complained the entire two years we roomed together at Tufts.

Sadly she couldn't give me everything I wanted and enjoyed sexually. We tried but the phallus she used, just wasn't, well you know. No matter how hard we tried, it lacked the heat, the pulse, the living weight of a man.

Yes, I needed a man as well, I love being with a man, and a woman. "I'm not boring!" I screamed as loud as I could, yet no one heard me.

When I met Derrick, well, I hid that part of myself. That might have been the biggest mistake I ever made. That might have been worse than accepting his proposal.

For the first time in years, the crushing weight of keeping my true sexual self hidden, burying my bisexual and sapphic adventurous side beneath the rigid, anti-homosexual expectations of a man who demanded I be traditional, shattered completely. I couldn't even cry. I just felt dead inside.

????

Friday morning before ten o'clock, I met Marcie at my favorite coffee shop. I wore a Tufts t-shirt, an opened zip up jacket and a comfortable pair of jeans. I sat there thinking about the years I wasted with him.

She pulled out the chair and smiled. "Annie, babe, what's up?"

I started crying all over again. "Marcie," I choked out, my voice broke all over again. "Get me out of here. Please. Six months, nine months, a year. I don't care where. Put me on a plane, put me in a basement, just get me out of Washington, D. C. and away from him and any thoughts of him."

"Annie, breathe." She asked as she moved to the seat next to me. "What happened?"

"Just find me a gig," I begged, and I lowered my head into my hands. "Far away."

She calmed me down and I slowly explained what had happened. She reassured me she would figure this out and find something. "I'll put feelers out immediately."

Hopefully, the musical gods and Mother Nature will find a way to reach down and love those who need love.

????

I went home to my apartment and sat on my couch and now bed, I picked up my phone and called Maestro Griffin, he picked up almost immediately.

"Maestro? I need to speak with you after our performance tonight," I couldn't hold it in, I started crying, "I'm sorry Maestro, I'm leaving, I just can't stay here."

I cried harder as I listened to my mentor of so many years try to calm me and talk to me. I apologized at least five more times. I shared that I was had met with my agent. I needed to leave Washington DC as soon as possible.

The late afternoon sun shined bright, but seemed to shun me, as I walked into the Signature Theatre. I checked in through the Stage Door entrance passing through security. I opened my office, there was a note from Maestro had left me, he wanted to talk, to assist. I knew it was to try and retain me.

Hours later, I sat at the piano in the pit, my hands flew across the keys. But the tears fell and the music felt detached. Every time I looked up at the stage lights, my chest tightened. I was suffocating in the D. C. swamp.

Like the ghosts here in the pit, I was trapped in a life I didn't want anymore. During the intermission, I made up my mind, I was finished in our Nation's Capital. We made it through the matinee but it was a nightmare of endurance.

Not even the ghosts were there to support me as usual. I was lost.

I typically conduct the matinee performances but at night, like tonight during the evening performances, Maestro Griffin conducted and I played. I cried during the entire performance. Later in his office after the performance, I explained everything to Maestro, he hugged me and told me unequivocally I was welcome back but he absolutely understood my need to leave.

????

That night I was sitting on my couch, yes, I was boring, then again I had just conducted the afternoon concert and played the evening concert. However, Chopin was keeping me company as his piano concerto played in the background.

It was just past ten forty-five when my phone rang. I looked at my cell phone, Marcie's name flashed on the screen.

"Hi Marcie."

"Tell me you're awake," Marcie barked, the sound of papers shuffling in the background made more noise than it should have.

"I haven't slept in days or in a bed, Marciee. What is it?"

"I just got a call from the entertainment department of a major cruise line. One of their ships, 'Something of the Seas' is heading to Fort Lauderdale right now from Nassau. Their pianist, who happens to be the orchestra director, just blew a random drug screening. It's his second offense. The first was a final warning last month."

"Yeah, Marcie, what does this have to do with me?"

"Security emptied his cabin and walked him quietly off the ship leaving him in Nassau with his passport yesterday. The Musical Director is on board, which is unusual but he and the Cruise Director are losing their minds. They have a massive gap in their entertainment, hell, they have a Broadway show on a boat! Who knew that?"

Her voice grew in pitch. "They have no one to conduct a Broadway show or conduct the orchestra and showband. I told them I have their New York-caliber savior in D. C. looking for a new gig!"

"When?"

"You have a video audition tomorrow morning at eight with the Music Director and the corporate entertainment team. If you pass, you are on a flight Sunday morning to Florida. Are you in?"

I looked around my quiet, silent, and suffocating apartment. "Send me the link, I'm in."

????

Saturday morning at seven fifty-five, I sat with my laptop on top of my piano and a second webcam, pointed at the keyboard, as the instructions directed. Yes, I sat at my piano in my Georgia Avenue apartment. I was in the "waiting room" when suddenly six faces appeared. First a young man, who couldn't have been over twenty, did visual, audio, and second camera checks, then an introduction.

The Musical Director, the Cruise Director, both looked exhausted and strung out. The three from corporate offices in Miami, were the "corporate HR and entertainment staff", all dressed in cruise line logo polos.

The Music Director spoke, "Good morning Maestro Marks, my name is Geoff, your résumé from Tufts, and experience from The Pops, and currently The Signature, are impeccable, but a ship orchestra is a different beast. I need to know you have the range and the stamina without preparation. On the fly as they say. Let's start with show tunes. Give me something lyrical, then something upbeat, fast, invigorating, then a third piece of your choosing."

I nodded, I settled my face into an uber-professional, icy mask. I adjusted my camera toward the keyboard. I launched into three distinct popular show tunes transitioning first from "Memories", from Cats, to "Seasons of Love", from Rent, then to "And All That Jazz, from Chicago. All of them without missing a single note, beat, or step.

My fingers flew across the keys, my posture commanding even through a webcam.

"Good," the Musical Director spoke as I finished. "Now show me your soft hands. Let's hear a classical piece, clean and with concert articulation."

I didn't hesitate. I dove into a Bach sonata. The crisp, mathematical precision of the piece filled my empty apartment. It was flawless, academic, and pristine. It was the exact thing Derrick had abandoned me for.

"Excellent technique," the Musical Director muttered. I looked at the laptop screen. I could see and frankly hear him typing something on his end.

"Now, the last test. You're in the lounge, not only is the guest entertainer missing but so is their sheet music. A bunch of passengers want to sing along to classic rock. Give me the opening of Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody."

A tiny, fierce spark lit up in my brown eyes. I shifted my weight, let my shoulders flex, and struck the iconic, dark chords of the intro. I didn't just play it; I leaned into the rock-and-roll drama of it, the heavy, growing tension built until they started applauding not knowing the pure power of my left hand.

The Musical Director stopped typing. He looked straight into the camera and finally smiled. I finished and sat back gently resting my hands on my thighs.

"Congratulations, our HR Department will send your agent a six month contract, Maestro, sign it and pack your bags." He paused then smiled.

"Your flight leaves Reagan National at six o'clock tomorrow morning. Welcome aboard, I'll be seeing you tomorrow afternoon for lunch in Ft Lauderdale."

????Chapter One????

The heat and early summer Sunday morning humidity in Washington, D. C. tried to suck the life from me, but no. I was escaping the hell he put me through. I wore soft, light blue capri pants and a lightweight, floral print, blouse that buttoned up the front. With simple flats on my feet, I stepped out of the Uber XL at Reagan National Airport.

Yesterday I coordinated with my agent, Marcie. She would care for my apartment and sublease it through a friend of hers. I signed a nine month limited, and retractable Power of Attorney for Marcie to "care for me and my things."

My six month emergency contract and as noted on my flight reservation allowed for three checked bags, and I had been told to bring essentials for at least a month, plus clothes for every imaginable occasion and performance.

The email had been incredibly specific. Black dresses, one ankle-length, one below the knees. Black slacks, at least two white button-down blouses. A black vest (if not available, one can be purchased onboard). The standard crew uniforms would be issued once I arrived. It was also strongly suggested I bring at least two pairs of jeans, and the list went on and on.

Thankfully, I brought what I thought was everything I could possibly need. There are distinct advantages to being petite and tiny. I managed to nearly pack my entire wardrobe, most of my undergarment and items needed into three suitcases and, of course, filled my carry-on, a nice tote, capable of holding all of my electronics, spare pair panties, a clean bra, makeup, and my feminine essentials.

At four forty-five in the morning, I checked my bags, proceeded through TSA, and double-checked that I had my passport, driver's license, and every other necessity from their corporate checklist.

I had been informed that early after my arrival I would be seeing a company physician for a thorough physical, plus the mandatory drug and alcohol screening. After what happened to the last guy, they weren't taking any chances.

Just at five-thirty, we boarded. I stowed my tote at my feet, settled into my seat, and as soon as the flight crew finished their safety briefing, I slipped in my ear pods, and a silk sleep mask over my eyes and dozed off. I was so incredibly thankful to get at least two more hours of sleep. The hum of the engines finally drowned out the stinging silence of Washington D. C.

More importantly, Derrick was well behind me and gone, soon to be erased from my memories.

????

Two and a half hours later, the soft touch of the cabin stewardess woke me. I pulled my sleep masks and thanked her. Then I pulled out my ear pods, placed them in their charging box, folded my sleep mask and stored it. Then a sudden thud shook me as the landing gear hit the runway, "safe" in Florida.

Folks had raised their shades, unfortunately allowing the bright summer Florida sun to instantly brighten the interior of the plane.

The stewardess softly finished her announcement, "The local time is nine-ten, welcome to Ft Lauderdale."

We deplaned in a normal 'herd' manner, most passengers heading for the restrooms closest to the gates. I knew better from my travels, never use the first or nearest restrooms, use the ones in baggage claim. But shhh that's a secret; they are usually empty.

I finished what I needed to do and waited at turnstile number three. Off to my left, I saw two young men standing there each holding a sign. I watched as the sign boards moved. I wasn't able to make out a name but then an alarm sounded. A red light spun at the turnstile as the belts moved.

One of the young men finally flipped his sign and that's when I saw it, Maestro A. MARKS.

I waited for my luggage, as the third bag arrived I secured my tote to the larger telescope handle resting it on the suitcase and spun the other two making my way over to him.

"Hi, I'm Annie."

The young man smiled, "It's an honor to meet you Maestro." He reached for two of my bags. "Follow me Maestro, we'll be heading to the Port Operations Center, We'll get you there for your medical exam, we have a very tight schedule as the ship sails today at four o'clock."

We stepped out of the airport terminal and a wave of tropical heat hit me like I had stepped into a dry sauna. This was different, it was near hellish, like an oven, but not deadly. It certainly wasn't the humid swamp of D. C.

Outside a black SUV waited. The driver and the young man assisted as we slid my luggage in the back, I felt a sudden sharp pang of fear in my chest. I felt a mix of fear, vulnerability, panic, and stress that I was by myself, I was alone, jumping into something I wasn't trained for. "Goodness!" I murmured.

"Maestro? Are you okay?" The young man walked over and touched my shoulder. "Hey, let's get you inside, out of the heat."

Things moved in a blur of activity. The driver got me a second bottle of water and a banana. Both now in the SUV and then off we went heading to the port. We were maybe ten minutes in the drive, when the young man asked for my passport, we were at the security checkpoint.

A few moments later I was inside the Port Operations building relaxing in the air conditioning, I filled out the medical questionnaire and other paperwork. I was called back for a quasi medical exam. The checkup was efficient, quick and clinical. I peed in a cup, let them draw a vial of blood. Thirty minutes later, I breathed a sigh of relief when the doctor stamped my medical clearance file with a bold, green FIT FOR MARITIME DUTY stamp.

I walked out from the back of the clinic to the front waiting area. The young man smiled, "Just a minute Maestro Marks we are waiting on your medical record."

I smiled, "You are too kind, I apologize if I was nervous at the airport. It really isn't my style."

"Maestro Marks?" He asked.

I interrupted him gently, "Annie or Miss Marks, please."

He nodded and was going to continue when I heard my name called from behind us. "Marks?"

I turned around, it was a staff member who called to me from the window., "Here's your medical file."

We made our way back to the SUV he assisted me into the back seat and once he was in, off we went. The driver turned and shared, "Next stop, Port Everglades. Pier 18."

As the SUV rounded the final bend of the side road approaching the port, my breath completely caught in my throat. Staring out the window, the horizon was utterly dominated by a floating magnificent architectural structure of glass and steel. It didn't look like a ship, it looked like a floating hotel.

It looked impossibly massive, a fortress rising tall against the blue Florida sky. My heart began to hammer in my chest as if it was my first concert or performance, this was it. There was no turning back. I looked at my watch and it was eleven o'clock on the dot.

????

I was amazed as the driver weaved his way through the twists and turns of the various buildings and side roads and, "Goodness!" I exclaimed again.

The young man next to me in the SUV turned, "Maestro? Are you alright?"

I smiled, "Yes, it just reminds me of DC traffic."

He turned to me and smiled. "We'll have you on the ship shortly, they are waiting for you."

"They?" I shivered.

He pulled out his phone. "Yes Maestro, but do not worry, I'll escort you. I'm part of the internal crew Human Resources staff. I'm Karl and I promise Maestro, you will be well cared for. I'll be sure if it."

He smiled suddenly, making me feel comfortable. "I will get you escorted to lunch but first we need to get you through security, they will make your badge, and not to worry, I'll assist with your welcome packet and information."

He smiled seeing my strained facial expression. "You are meeting Henrik, the Staff Captain, Geoff, the Musical Director, Claire, the Cruise Director, and Katya, she is the Dance Captain for lunch at 150 Central Park."

The SUV came to a stop at a crew entrance, dropping me off right at the secure gangway. Two burly security officers in crisp light blue shirts and dark blue slacked uniforms checked my passport and my green-stamped medical files against their manifest.

Karl's spoke. "She is on the emergency manifest."

Again, an absolute whirlwind, within minutes, a crew ID badge was handed to me to be kept, looped around my neck, "At all times." The chief of security firmly stated, then asked for my passport as they would hold it until I departed the ship.

"Welcome aboard, Maestro Marks," the officer then said. He nodded, "Karl, she is all yours."

The young man, Karl, whispered, "Let's put your carry-on in your cabin on Deck 3, stateroom 3122. Then we will get you to lunch."

I checked my watch. It was eleven-forty-five. We hurried through the twists and turns of the ship's interior hallway up to the third deck where I was handed a card with my name and other generic information on it.

Once inside the cabin, I stored my tote in the empty closet.

"Karl, if you don't mind, can I use the bathroom?"

He nodded and I stepped in and sat, taking a deep breath. I finished and flushed, washing my hands and then looked in the mirror. I ran my fingers through my chestnut hair trying to fix the weathered flyaways and strays.

My brown eyes looked tired, shadowed by the trauma of the last few days, but there was a new, sharp look in them. I rubbed my lips together needing my lip gloss. I smoothed down my lightweight blouse, and took one long, deep, grounding breath.

"Time to put on the mask, Annie. You're an Associate Maestro, act like it." I murmured to myself.

Karl and I locked my "cabin" and took the glass-walled elevator up to Deck 8. When the doors slid open, Karl walked me out a sliding glass door and walked out to a literal oasis.

"Maestro, welcome to our Central Park." We walked out to find an open-air marvel, filled with thousands of real, lush green plants, towering trees, and the gentle chirping of birds.

"Are those real birds?"

"No Maestro, those are hidden speakers with sounds pipped in, ambiance, though there are a few birds who happen to have found refuge here with us."

The blue sky stretched overhead between the two massive hulls of the ship. I followed Karl along the winding brick path toward the elegant facade of 150 Central Park.

Karl opened the door, the maître d' at the door took one look at my crew badge and offered a warm, deferential bow. "Ah, Maestro Marks, right this way. The senior entertainment staff is already expecting you."

He led me through the dimly lit, opulent restaurant to a secluded, sun-drenched alcove near the back window. Four people were already seated around a pristine white tablecloth covered table, sipping water.

As my flats clicked against the hardwood floor, all four heads turned.

They stood, the first was a broad-shouldered and very tall man in a crisp white uniform with gold stripes on his shoulders.

Karl spoke, "Maestro, I would like to introduce our Staff Captain, Henrik." We shook hands carefully, "Our Musical Director, Geoff," we exchanged a soft handshake as well. "Our Cruise Director, Claire." Again she and I shook hands, "and our Dance Captain, Katya." We exchanged a soft handshake as well.

Henrik, the Staff Captain invited us to take our seats and Karl departed, the waiter arrived pouring my water then taking non-alcoholic drink orders. Henrik ordered salads and bread then we all slowly started a calming conversation.

It was Henrik who asked. "Maestro, tell us, please share what has brought you to us on such short notice."

It was at that moment, the Cruise Director, who caught my eye. When my eyes connected with hers, I nearly forgot how to breathe. She sat there without even trying but I shivered inside. She was a slender beautiful woman who certainly commanded the respect she earned.

I focused back on the Staff Captain, "Forgive me Sir, it has been a whirlwind of twenty-four hours."

"It is alright Annie, I understand from what Geoff shared, it has been a fast paced two days." Henrik spoke, his deep Norwegian accent carrying a warm but commanding curiosity.

The question hung over us as did the white tablecloth on the table like a physical weight. Geoff, the Musical Director, leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowed as if trying to read my sheet music before I'd even opened it.

Beside him, Katya sat with her chin high, the perfect, striking posture of an Eastern European dancer, her sharp eyes assessing me with a quiet, calculated intensity.

I felt the icy mask I'd put on in the bathroom mirror start to slip. How was I supposed to answer that? I certainly wasn't going to say, 'Well, Captain, the man I loved shattered my life, replaced me, and left me kneeling on my cold bathroom floor while I was vomiting, so I fled my home with three suitcases to survive.'

My throat went dry. I reached for my water glass, my fingers trembling just enough for the ice to clink against the sides of the clear glass.

While the men were waiting for a professional, corporate answer, Claire's expression softened with a subtle, knowing warmth. She didn't see an "Associate Maestro" stepping into a contract. She saw a woman who was running from something.

"Henrik, give the poor girl a chance to breathe," Claire said, her voice a smooth, rich alto sound that sent a sudden, unexpected shiver straight down my spine. She offered me a brilliant, reassuring smile and gently nudged the basket of warm bread toward me.

"She just stepped off a flight from D. C., went through a manhandling and grueling port physical, and got thrown right into a den of lions. Let her eat a salad first."

"My apologies, Maestro," Henrik offered with a hearty, good-natured chuckle, raising his glass. "Claire is right. Welcome to our team."

"Thank you," I managed to say, my voice steadying as I looked back at Claire. "And thank you, Claire, it ... it has been a very whirlwind forty-eight hours."

I paused and then finally with my wits about me, I shared. "The opportunity opened up, and I realized I needed a change of scenery. D. C. was getting a bit too crowded for me." I smiled then finished, "The silence was deafening."

Geoff cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses. "Well, crowded or not, this will not be anything close to silent, we're glad you're here. The orchestra is amazingly tight but without a pianist and a strong Maestro..." he paused, "Scheduling the main theater and the clubs, as well as the lounges was going to become a logistical nightmare, but the manner in which you played yesterday, simply magnificent. I am breathing as softly as a breeze at sea."

"Don't worry, Geoff, she can handle it." Claire interjected smoothly, her blue eyes never leaving mine. She leaned back in her chair, crossing one elegant hand over the other, her gaze tracking the way I nervously touched the collar of my blouse.

"I can tell just by looking at her. Maestro Marks has exactly the kind of fire we need on this ship." Claire complimented me.

The waiter arrived, placing our salads and bread on the table. As the conversation drifted toward the ship's itinerary and the upcoming cruise entertainment and shows, the tension in my shoulders finally began to ease. But every single time I looked up, Claire was already watching me.

There was a playful, intense spark in her eyes, a silent, unspoken understanding between us. One that made the Florida heat outside feel entirely secondary to the fire starting right here at the table.

????

I paused, a third of the way, through the delicious chicken piccata entree, crossing my fork and knife from the plate's upper left to lower right. Claire noticed the quiet etiquette, looking over and giving me a subtle wink. She leaned in, whispering across the table. "Believe me, Maestro, I understand."

I smiled in return, the shared secret made me smile.

Once the plates were cleared, the conversation came to a crawl. The Staff Captain looked at his watch just as Geoff wiped his mouth and placed his napkin down. He adjusted his glasses, looking across the table at me. "Maestro?"

I turned to him. "Shall we go meet your orchestra? They'll be meeting in the theater soon, waiting for you as their practice time draws near." His words were firm.

"It will be an honor, Sir."

"Geoff, please, we aren't that formal," he smiled, the tight lines of his face softening.

"Yes, please lead the way, Geoff. It seems I have a show this evening to prepare for."

He stood, and I followed his movement. I turned to the rest of the table. "Henrik, Claire, Katya, I look forward to seeing you later."

My tablemates rose as well. Claire stepped around the table, coming closer to me, and gently took my hand. "It is truly wonderful to meet you in person."

The scent of her perfume left me transfixed. It was crisp, expensive, and hmm... citrus. It drifted over me, filling my senses and completely stealing my mind.

"Good luck down there, Annie," she said softly, her blue eyes holding mine for a lingering, heavy second. "I'll see you at or after the show tonight. Don't let Geoff stress you out."

"I won't," I smiled.

There was a little skip in my heartbeat as Katya, Geoff, and I turned and made our way to a back corridor behind the restaurant, heading down three flights of inner crew stairs to the fifth deck.

When we arrived backstage, I stopped for a second to take it all in. The intricate workings behind the scenes, the towering light rigs, the comforting smell of dust and theater grease, the shadows... Yes, I was home.

Geoff caught my attention, breaking my daydream. "Walk with me, please."

We stepped out front. The orchestra was already set at their chairs, the piano bench, empty and centered. I looked out over the massive expanse of the theater, it would easily seat two thousand people. Geoff led me out onto the stage and came around to the front. I noticed as we stood on the pit, it could lower and raise as needed. Interesting, but on a cruise ship!

"Everyone, eyes up," he called out, his voice cutting through the soft, chaotic sounds of tuning brass, a three-drum timpani set, and whispering woodwinds. "This is Maestro Annie Marks. She's stepping in as our Maestro and your orchestra director, effective immediately."

"Good day, and thank you, Geoff. It is a pleasure to meet you all. It is an honor to be here with you," I paused, looking over the stands. "Before we start, may we do some introductions, please?"

Eighteen eyes, all nine professional musicians, locked onto me. They took in all five feet, theee inches of my petite body. I took a slow, deep breath.

There was no response. The silence hung heavy, and Geoff went to speak, likely wanting to force them into compliance. I simply raised my hand, asking for his pause. Turning to the piano, I lightly tapped the fingers of my left hand on the polished black lid. tap, tap, tap.

I raised my left hand as if holding my baton. They all looked at me, their eyes wide open, almost stunned into silence and attention.

"Thank you," I said, my voice steady and carrying beautifully through the acoustics. "As Geoff stated, I am your Maestro and pianist. I'll start, I am Maestro Annie Marks. I have an MFA from Tufts, I have played at The Boston Pops, the Signature Auditorium, and I left there as the Associate Maestro."

I carefully walked to the front of the pit, stepping closer to them.

"We, you and I, are astutely aware that this is a sudden transition. We will walk through this together. I'm here to work alongside you and make sure we blow the roof off this theater every single night."

Suddenly, a warm, genuine round of applause broke out. The stiff posture of the strangers, yet kindred souls instantly melted, their expressions softening into respect.

I smiled. "Now, shall we continue with the introductions?"

We went down the line, and as the last man, Nathan the saxophonist, finished, my smile widened.

"Two last things you will need to know about me. First, the only silence I enjoy is the silence immediately after I tap my baton. It's the equivalent of poetry's caesura. You see, in that slight, small moment before the music begins... that silence is magical."

Marco, the percussionist, raised his hand with a grin. "And the second, Maestro?"

I nodded, my chest swelling with a feeling I hadn't felt in weeks. "I love what I do. Believe me, this is my soul, my passion, my first and for now, only true love. So, let's have a great run."

I reached over and picked up the baton resting on the piano lid. I looked at it, wrinkling my nose slightly. "Hmm... I don't like a yellow baton."

I winked at them, earning a collective chuckle, and opened the sheet music before taking my seat on the bench. I raised my hand, tapped the baton twice against the rim of the piano, and as that beautiful, poetic silence blanketed the room, my soul lit on fire.

And away we went.

Just shy of one hour into our rehearsal, I gently waved the baton, closed my fist and lowered my hand. I slowly stood and softly clapped, applauding their skills and abilities.

"Bravo! Bravo! Truly magnificent. Though, it is me who needs to tighten some issues. I will be here for the next hour practicing. Should you want to lend an ear, or go about your days, I thank you."

"Maestro?" I think her name was Amie, our one violinist spoke up.

"Yes?"

"I'll stay, I would love to hear you play." I nodded and turned the sheet music back to the first page.

Truly, our connection, mine to theirs was instantaneous but I was the outsider, I needed to prove myself. Accepting Amie's offer was the bridge, she would certainly provide them with feedback. Yet, they were consummate professionals.

I began and I played as it flowed through my veins, the music, like blood flowing through my veins as if it was a transfusion, the new blood, washing away the lingering ghosts of Washington D. C.

I played through the production show sheet music a second time. I was in the flow and truly enjoying this. As I finished there was a sudden burst of applause. I looked up and there stood the entire orchestra with several other crew members around them. They never left, it was then I heard Claire's voice.

"Maestro, that was wonderful, however we must lower the stage and prepare for the next event in the theater." She was walking towards me.

I stood absolutely embarrassed. "Forgive me, I got carried away, my apologies."

Claire stepped closer, "It was magnificent. There is no need to apologize. Maybe we can listen to you play later in the Schooner Bar."

My eyes lit up and I looked at Amie. She was smiling, "I'd love to play for whoever is listening." I stood and gathered my belongings.

I turned to the rest of the orchestra, they waved me backstage giving the other crew members the space to prepare for their event. Backstage I saw Karl standing there. He had a folder in his hand.

"Maestro, a moment?" He smiled politely. "Have you had a chance to unpack? Maybe you should rest a bit as you have a show at eight o'clock, meaning you need dinner and get dressed back here at 7:30? Additionally, I have some things I must share with you, paperwork related to your contract and employment."

????

With Karl's help, I finished the onboarding paperwork just in time to unpack two of my three suitcases. I pulled out my fitted black slacks and a crisp white blouse, black flats were the only sensible footwear for the evening. After catching a quick, desperately needed power nap, I headed back upstairs.

Right at seven-thirty, I was backstage, believe me, I was nervous.

The production manager, Stefan, along with Geoff, escorted us down into the pit. We would be playing in the dark while Katya and her dance team performed on the stage above us, and the entire pit would be hoisted up on the stage elevator for the finale.

Geoff looked at the ensemble, then turned his eyes to me. "Maestro, they are all yours. And from what I heard earlier today, you are all going to do amazing."

Stefan was next, running us through the technicalities. We finished our headset and mic checks, and then he pointed toward a small television monitor mounted near my stand. "Maestro, watch for me right there. I'll count you in and guide you through the cues. That is where you will see us."

I nodded. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary for a high-tech theater, but a sudden wave of panic washed over me anyway.

Amie must have noticed my hands trembling slightly. She stepped closer to my stand, her violin resting against her side. "Maestro, believe me, we are in amazing hands under your baton. Trust me, this is my third contract on this ship. You've got this."

I nodded, feeling a swell of gratitude for her comfort. I looked at my watch. Eight minutes until showtime.

"Places everyone!" the stage manager called out.

I settled onto the bench, adjusted my headset, and looked up as the television monitor flickered to life. "Maestro, break a leg!" Stefan's voice crackled in my ear.

I watched the digital clock countdown, Geoff nodding along in time. Five, four... I raised my baton. Tap, tap.

And we began.

The show was a blur of high-energy top-40 and chart topping songs, then a few from the show later this week. The orchestra was incredibly focused, nothing seemed to strain us. Before I knew it, I heard Stefan's voice in my headset as we transitioned into the final number. "Rising up in three... two... one... raise the orchestra!"

The sensation was incredible. The hydraulic platform lifted us upward, smoothly lifting us into the warm, blinding stage lights and the thunderous applause of two thousand passengers. I smiled wide, completely feeling the music now. As the last notes pushed toward a final, massive crescendo, I stood up, closed my hands, and lowered the baton, cutting the sound cleanly.

I immediately applauded the orchestra, the passenger's roar of applause echoing through the multi-level theater. It was near perfect. I turned, acknowledging the musicians and clapping along with the passengers.

Out from behind the velvet curtain, Claire appeared in her pristine, dress-white Cruise Director uniform. I quickly sat. Oh, she looked brilliant, utterly professional and, frankly, incredibly attractive.

Claire gracefully brought Katya and her dance team out for another round of applause, and they gestured to us, recognizing the music. Slowly, the orchestra platform began to lower again, and we disappeared back into the shadows of the pit.

Once we were safely down below, the stage crew took over. Our instruments were quickly moved off the lift onto a separate platform, and the main stage floor returned to the top. From down below, we could hear the muffled sound of the applause fading as Claire finished her announcements, inviting the passengers to enjoy the remainder of their first night onboard.

Geoff stepped around from the side of the pit, gently placing a hand on my elbow. He leaned in, whispering, "The Captain would like to meet you. Will you join me, please?"

We immediately stepped away, making our way upstairs to the backstage reception area. I was introduced to Captain Jonathan, shook his hand, and carried on a wonderful but very brief conversation.

As we spoke, I couldn't help but notice Claire standing nearby. Her blue eyes sparkled with pride. As the Captain turned to depart for other duties, he looked back over his shoulder at me. "Maestro, rumor has it you were thinking about playing in the Schooner Bar later. Maybe you can play at the finals of karaoke competition with a good pianist. I'll sing."

Several oohs and aahs filled the room, the officers chuckling at the Captain's playful challenge.

I felt a sudden presence beside me. Katya stepped close, the warmth of her body radiating against mine as she whispered in my ear, "Impressive."

The low, elegant Russian purr broke through my thoughts and sent a formidable shiver down my spine. I turned to see her looking at me, her long blonde hair tied back, a sleek silk robe thrown over her performance costume. Her sharp cheekbones were still beautifully flushed from the heat of the stage lights.

"Thank you, Katya. I heard your team was flawless," I said, catching my breath. "I am sorry I couldn't see you."

Katya offered a rare, beautiful smile that completely transformed her fierce expression into something incredibly warm and inviting. "We will make good team, I think. Come. The adrenaline from opening night is charged, highly charged. You need to unwind. Meet me on the crew deck in fifteen minutes. I will bring a bottle of Pinot Noir."

"I would love that," I said, the exhaustion finally starting to creep into my bones as the adrenaline began to dip.

I opted to take a quick shower, changed into a comfortable pair of jeans and one of my soft tank tops. It was twenty minutes later and I finally made my way to the lower crew corridors through the inside door and then out to the private crew deck, at the bow of the ship.

The summer air as we headed farther south towards the Caribbean was just as thick, heavy and humid, more than I could've imagined, but there was a nice breeze that kept me cool.

Being up front near the bow of the ship, I was told you would never feel the vibrations of the engines but we would feel the up and down movement. I could hear in the distance behind me here the distinct sound of the ship moving through the ocean and the waves that it was causing. It was a surreal sound. It was something that I had never truly heard before, but it was extremely inspiring.

"Over here, Annie," Katya called out softly.

I looked when I heard her voice and then I saw Katya sitting on the right side. There was a two person table near the railing. There was a little bit of an ambient glow of light that was above, but not too much to spoil all the evening.

I walked over and settled into the chair across the table from her, graciously accepting the glass she handed me.

"To a successful first day," Katya said, touching her glass against mine.

"To survival and to making new friends!" I said, taking a long, slow sip. The rich, smoothness of the wine warmed my throat instantly, loosening the strain of tension in my chest.

Katya leaned back, her long, athletic legs stretched out, her eyes fixed on the horizon. "You have a lot of sadness in your eyes, Annie," she said bluntly, that classic Russian honesty cutting straight through the casual small talk. "You play with beautiful passion, but you are running from something very dark. Am I right?"

She struck a nerve right away and before I could quickly deny it, I slowly nodded.

"I knew you would be extremely observant as the dance team captain, however, I hadn't realized that you would've figured me out in less than a day.

"We are all running at one point." She took a sip of her wine. "I've been running for years. I know what it looks like. Don't worry your secret's safe with me."

"Well then here's to the silence we both hold." I leaned forward and touched glasses. I sat back enjoying the first glass of wine I had in a while with zero expectations.

????End of Chapter One????

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