Disclaimer: You know the drill. Don't own it. Don't claim to. All characters belong to Stephenie Meyer, though I wouldn't mind owning Edward Cullen..
Radiant. Astounding. Incomparable.
Isabella Swan had been called many, many things on account of her wondrous skill when it came to playing the Violin. Her compositions were critically acclaimed and the moment her bow ran across those strings, even the burliest of men could be brought to tears.
She'd been asked many times where her gift came from and each time, she would answer with a shrug. For she truly had no idea where she obtained it from. She'd taken no lessons as a child and none as an adult either.
Before the curtains were drawn and she was to play in front of thousands at the Palais de Garnier, she hurried to the small vanity table to apply a fresh coat of light makeup. She was constantly told that she was beautiful without, but she was always made up for a show.
"My lord," her manager moaned, appearing from the narrow hallway. A clear sheen of sweat was spread across his brow, his cheeks were puffed and flushed and he was fanning his face with his hand. "Could they not put a fan or something in this place? It's so hot." under her breath, Bella chuckled. She knew for a fact that the temperature was more than comfortable and that this happened wherever she and her manager traveled. "Dearest Isabella."
"Dearest James," she smiled as he took her hands. She wanted to cringe away at the moistness of his palms but decided against it. James was the nearest thing to family she had. She hated to even upset him. He assisted her in making a name of herself.
"I have some disheartening news," he began, sighing and wiping another drop of sweat with the light handkerchief. He chuckled and looked back up at her with a sad smile. "I'm afraid that after tonight, I will no longer be with you. My wife. She is very, very ill and I feel as if I should devote my time to what life she still has."
Bella couldn't fight the immediate tears that sprang into her eyes. It was heartbreaking to hear that his beloved wife Victoria had only gotten worse with her cancer but also heartbreaking to hear that she and James would be parting ways when this show was over.
"I'm very, sorry, my dear," he told her, holding her hands and dropping them, just as the lights were dropped. She knew immediately that that was her cue and, though she'd done this many a times, her nerves were on end. "But, it is time for you to go."
He placed her violin in her hands and placed a kiss on her cheek. She gave a small wave and watched him as he ran out of view. The curtains were then drawn and she was staring at the faces of a thousand Parisians. So, she cleared her throat, raised her bow and began to play.
She began with Moto Perpetuo by Paganini. Its quick pace and upbeat tune made her forget about what she had just been told. She closed her eyes and quickly ran the bow across the strings. The motion was rapid and one of the pieces that consumed every bit of her focus and concentration. Though her next piece wasn't nearly simple.
It was another Paganini piece. Caprice No. 24 in A. Minor. It started quick, but fluctuated in pace. Though never too slow, this was one piece she was completely comfortable with. Its haunting sound towards its end was one she would never forget. She was once told that Paganini was put on trial on various occasions, due to the fact that people thought he was possessed. He was that talented.
After numerous more songs, some hers, some not, she decided to conclude with Frederic Chopin's Nocturne in E minor. It was one of the few pieces she also knew for her piano, though her violin playing exceeded her piano playing, she still knew how to play some compositions. It was also one of her most melancholic pieces. To her, it reflected great sorrow and loss. Two feelings she knew much too well.
At the tender age of Seven, Bella's parents were murdered. She was never told just how it happened, for she had been away with a friend. She just recalled coming home from the weekend away to dejected faces and lots of tears. She was immediately shipped away to live with her estranged aunt.
The dilapidated house and unkempt yard was not something she was accustomed to. Her home in Forks Washington was small, but nice. This home was small and anything but nice. It was surrounded by homes that were just as horrid, if not worse.
"This is your home now. Get used to it," her aunt had said in her raspy voice. The cigarettes were obviously to blame.
After about a week in the horrid environment, she'd decided to do some exploring in the crowded third bedroom and ended up finding the old Violin. She'd never played an instrument before but she didn't see the harm in trying.
So she did.
She began to play, finding that she wasn't terrible. Somehow, she was able to play the Violin without sounding horrid. She eventually broke into her small, ceramic bank and bought a book of sheet music. From then on, she never stopped.
She played in the park for her enjoyment and quickly found that it paid well. Many people would pass by, dropping tips in the case and some even stopping to watch. She would put on a show for hours upon hours, since her aunt probably wouldn't begin to look for her.
As she grew older, her talent blossomed. She was number one chair in her high school orchestra all four years and once she reached college, she was being approached for a solo career. James happened to be one of those men.
How could she have foreseen that just four short years later, she would be on one of the most renowned stages in the world?
After her show concluded, she smiled, took her bow and exited stage left. She was filled with exuberance and glee. Her concerto was their music and their applause was hers. She never grew tiresome of the cheers of the crowd after every show. It kept her going.
"James!" she exclaimed, spotting James talking to a dashing young man. She'd never seen him before, but a part of her wished she had.
He towered over James, staring down at him with piercing Emerald eyes. His hair was tousled, flecked with shades of gold and red. His jaw was firm and taught, like he was listening intently was James had to say. He couldn't have been much older than Bella herself.
"Oh, Isabella," James grinned, waving her over. "I'd like you to meet somebody."
She carefully set the violin in its case and slid it aside. Maybe he was a close friend of James. She'd never seen him at this venue before and she'd played her once before. Maybe he was a beneficiary and was allowed back stage.
"Isabella," the unfamiliar man began. His voice ran so very smoothly, like a song. "I'm Edward Cullen. Pleased to meet you."
"It's Bella," she said apprehensively, holding out a hand for him to shake. His grip was firm, yet gentle. "It's a pleasure to meet you, also."
There was a bit of an awkward silence between the trio, until James decided to finally say something.
"Mr. Cullen will be taking over for me," James suddenly clapped, causing Bella to double take at him, as if the news of his early retirement was just hitting her. Mr. Cullen didn't seem like he would do a bad job as her manager. He just seemed a bit young for the job. "I hope you find him satisfactory. Mr. Cullen, as you have clearly seen, Ms. Isabella is very talented. "
"Yes," he said somewhat absentmindedly. "Very talented, indeed."
He watched as Bella and James bid their goodbyes to each other and he quickly left, leaving the two of them alone in the silence. Once the door was completely shut, his head snapped in Bella's direction. Suddenly, the soft expression was gone and was replaced with something much, much rougher.
"You over reach for your G sharp on the D string," he began. "And the D sharp on the A string."
She stood flabbergasted at his comment. She'd never been criticized before.
"It wouldn't hurt to pull back some," he finished. "Also, we have lots of practice to do so I've arranged for a private session here tomorrow morning. Six AM sharp. Goodnight, Isabella."
She stood fuming as he walked away in stride, not taking one look at her as he left the building. Somehow, she just knew that she and this Mr. Cullen were about to dance. And not in the physical sense.
I know this wasn't terribly long but I just wanted to post a little bit to see if people liked it or not. I have literally prayed that this story be received well because I really like this idea. I don't know much about music so I tried to get things right. Anyways, I wont update without reviews. I don't care how many. 2 would be fine for me. But yeah, hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Oh! I will post the picture of the Palais de Garnier on my profile. Its GORGEOUS.