Read Online Beauty: an Everland Ever After Tale by Caroline Lee - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Caroline Lee
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always been proper; hadn’t always been concerned with appearances. There was a time, when she’d been beautiful, that she threw caution to the wind and did what she wanted, when she wanted.
Arabella straightened her shoulders. She wasn’t the carefree girl she’d been years ago, but Milton was gone, and there was no one here to see her slight rebellion. “Vincenzo.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“Have you rosined and tightened your bowstrings?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Have you been practicing at home?”
“Yes, sir. Every afternoon before supper.”
“Are your fingers sore?”
“ Very , sir.”
Vincenzo didn’t dare smile at the boy’s tone, but it was hard. “Good. That means that you’re not just practicing, you’re improving.” It was the fib his teacher had told him long ago.
“If you say so, sir.”
“What do you think?” Vincenzo unclasped his hands from behind his back and stepped towards the boy, who stood in the middle of the music room. “Do you think you’re getting better?” He walked in a slow circle, concentrating on Eddie’s breathing, until he stood behind the boy. Placing one hand on Eddie’s shoulder, he leaned down just a bit. “Do you notice any improvement?”
“Well…” The boy tried to shrug, but Vincenzo kept pressure on his shoulder. It was important that Eddie learn to not make unnecessary movements. “Mother says that I don’t sound like a dying duck anymore.”
You sound like a sick cat. How many times had Jane teased him with those words, in his early years learning the instrument? Vincenzo pushed the memory aside, and gently squeezed Eddie’s shoulder. “Your mother is correct. She has a good ear for ill poultry, I’d say.” The boy snorted with laughter, and Vincenzo tried not to think about Mrs. Mayor’s ears, or any other part of her. “But how about you? Do you notice any sign of improvement? Do you enjoy practicing at home in between our lessons, or is it a chore?”
Eddie went still, and Vincenzo knew he was deciding how to answer. “The truth, please. I can hear you lie.”
“I’ve never lied to you, sir.”
“Don’t start now, then. You have a good ear for the notes, Eddie, and you’re an eager student. You don’t have to answer me right now, but I’d like to know how you feel about playing. Does it move you, or is it a chore? You can think about it.”
After a moment, he felt the boy nod. “Thank you, sir.”
Vincenzo patted Eddie’s shoulder. “Very well. Get into position, and let me check.” After weeks of these private lessons, the boy was used to the routine. He brought the violin up under his chin, and stood with the bow just over the strings. Vincenzo stood behind him, and flicked his fingers over the instrument and the boy’s hands, making minor adjustments here and there. As always, Eddie’s right elbow was too low, but a light tap was all the reminder he needed to get it into place. As he touched the boy’s left fingertips, ensuring that they were cocked gracefully over the strings the way Vincenzo had learned all those years ago, he grinned. “You’re getting calluses here, you know. That means you are practicing hard.”
“I like it. That’s your answer. I like playing. It helps me think.”
From the windowsill, Rajah meowed in response to the boy’s firm claim. Vincenzo rarely allowed the cat into his music room—rarely allowed anyone in. Since he had it set the way he wanted, any small shift in his instruments or furniture could have disastrous results. But the big cat had taken an immediate liking to Vincenzo’s only student, and the boy took a liking to him, as well. That first day, to his mother’s embarrassment, Eddie had sat right down on the carpet of the parlor, stroked the big cat gently, and insisted on knowing the serval’s story. An immediate bond had been formed, and now Rajah insisted on being in the room with Eddie during lessons.
So Vincenzo smiled wider. “My pet
Arabella straightened her shoulders. She wasn’t the carefree girl she’d been years ago, but Milton was gone, and there was no one here to see her slight rebellion. “Vincenzo.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“Have you rosined and tightened your bowstrings?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Have you been practicing at home?”
“Yes, sir. Every afternoon before supper.”
“Are your fingers sore?”
“ Very , sir.”
Vincenzo didn’t dare smile at the boy’s tone, but it was hard. “Good. That means that you’re not just practicing, you’re improving.” It was the fib his teacher had told him long ago.
“If you say so, sir.”
“What do you think?” Vincenzo unclasped his hands from behind his back and stepped towards the boy, who stood in the middle of the music room. “Do you think you’re getting better?” He walked in a slow circle, concentrating on Eddie’s breathing, until he stood behind the boy. Placing one hand on Eddie’s shoulder, he leaned down just a bit. “Do you notice any improvement?”
“Well…” The boy tried to shrug, but Vincenzo kept pressure on his shoulder. It was important that Eddie learn to not make unnecessary movements. “Mother says that I don’t sound like a dying duck anymore.”
You sound like a sick cat. How many times had Jane teased him with those words, in his early years learning the instrument? Vincenzo pushed the memory aside, and gently squeezed Eddie’s shoulder. “Your mother is correct. She has a good ear for ill poultry, I’d say.” The boy snorted with laughter, and Vincenzo tried not to think about Mrs. Mayor’s ears, or any other part of her. “But how about you? Do you notice any sign of improvement? Do you enjoy practicing at home in between our lessons, or is it a chore?”
Eddie went still, and Vincenzo knew he was deciding how to answer. “The truth, please. I can hear you lie.”
“I’ve never lied to you, sir.”
“Don’t start now, then. You have a good ear for the notes, Eddie, and you’re an eager student. You don’t have to answer me right now, but I’d like to know how you feel about playing. Does it move you, or is it a chore? You can think about it.”
After a moment, he felt the boy nod. “Thank you, sir.”
Vincenzo patted Eddie’s shoulder. “Very well. Get into position, and let me check.” After weeks of these private lessons, the boy was used to the routine. He brought the violin up under his chin, and stood with the bow just over the strings. Vincenzo stood behind him, and flicked his fingers over the instrument and the boy’s hands, making minor adjustments here and there. As always, Eddie’s right elbow was too low, but a light tap was all the reminder he needed to get it into place. As he touched the boy’s left fingertips, ensuring that they were cocked gracefully over the strings the way Vincenzo had learned all those years ago, he grinned. “You’re getting calluses here, you know. That means you are practicing hard.”
“I like it. That’s your answer. I like playing. It helps me think.”
From the windowsill, Rajah meowed in response to the boy’s firm claim. Vincenzo rarely allowed the cat into his music room—rarely allowed anyone in. Since he had it set the way he wanted, any small shift in his instruments or furniture could have disastrous results. But the big cat had taken an immediate liking to Vincenzo’s only student, and the boy took a liking to him, as well. That first day, to his mother’s embarrassment, Eddie had sat right down on the carpet of the parlor, stroked the big cat gently, and insisted on knowing the serval’s story. An immediate bond had been formed, and now Rajah insisted on being in the room with Eddie during lessons.
So Vincenzo smiled wider. “My pet
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