Heartstrings

Heartstrings

  by Marilee Boekweg

 

  Chapter One

  “No, it’s not that building. It’s this one,” Eroica called after her father. He had been busily trying to find the front door to the Salt Lake Temple, while she and her mother lagged behind in the Museum of Church History. Dr. Karloff Hamilton, renowned baritone, member of the Boston Opera Company, world-traveled vocal soloist, teacher and lecturer, had in his lifetime spent hours poring over and polishing the most minute details in his music. He would shut himself up in his studio and work through difficult ornamentation and scale passages, oblivious of time, hunger, or any student waiting on the other side of the door for a private lesson.

  So it did not surprise Eroica to find her father trying to get into the Salt Lake Temple with all of its spires, when she had told him that the tabernacle was the dome-shaped building.

  “Of course, of course,” he called back in his deep, rich voice, as he caught up to them. “That must then be your temple that is off limits to noncontributors.”

  “Oh, Father, you have such a way of putting things,” Eroica sighed. “You know why you can’t go in. It’s a sacred place where members of the Church make special promises to God.”

  “Yes, yes, so you have told us. It’s no wonder that people looked at me so oddly when I tried to get in. They shouldn’t have worried, though. The doors are all locked, and even though I knocked on several, no one answered. So your temple is safe. Now, where is that tabernacle?” This question was asked as they walked through the doorway and into the tabernacle.

  “I’ll leave you two in here to examine the acoustics all you like,” Eroica said. She knew her father and his hobby of searching out acoustically correct performance halls. This hobby had led him into as many European cathedrals as he had time to examine, in between performance call times and plane departure times. Consequently, Eroica knew that her father understood how religious people felt about their sacred buildings. He had put himself into many interesting situations sneaking past “Public not allowed beyond this point” signs, and entering dark passageways behind doors that were mistakenly left unlocked. Once, in Italy, he was about to be

  taken to police headquarters to be investigated, until the police learned that he was the guest soloist with the Milan Symphony Orchestra that evening.

  It was August first, Eroica’s twenty-second birthday. She walked over to the Seagull Monument and sat down on the edge of the fountain. The sun was just about gone, and lights were just starting to be turned on. There was a cool breeze beginning to blow, helping to cool off the Utah desert. This was Eroica’s favorite time. The evening was just beginning and it held the promise of so many possibilities. Concerts were just beginning, recitals were just getting underway. People were attending plays and movies and having good times together at neighborhood barbeques and swimming parties. Eroica let the breeze blow at her long brown hair as she thought back through the years. One particular time had been engraved in her memory. Not a day went by that she didn’t reflect on it.

  It was the end of summer, and Eroica had recently turned fifteen years old. She was at music camp, something that she did every summer. But this year was different. She had gone to the Deseret Music Camp with her friend Joannie Hancock. Eroica and Joannie had arisen early. Early enough that the sidewalks were still wet from the sprinklers watering the lawns. Early enough that they could enjoy walking on campus without being bothered by the heat. This was their last Sunday in Utah. Tomorrow they would be going back home to Boston.

  Eroica walked over to the music hall and sat down on a bench. She gazed longingly at the mountains that were so different from anything she had seen in Boston. She wished that she had taken the time to explore those mountains, to see their ruggedness up close, to feel them and to be a part of them. Eroica sensed that she had missed something important this summer, but she couldn’t figure out what it was.

  Joannie sat down next to Eroica. All summer long Joannie had invited Eroica to come to church with her, and all summer long Eroica had politely declined. Eroica was not a member of the Church. In fact, she and her family didn’t belong to any church. Music was their religion. Joannie had talked Eroica into auditioning for a piano scholarship to the Deseret Music Camp. She knew that Eroica was capable of winning a scholarship. She also know that it would be a wonderful way to introduce Eroica to other members of the Church and hopefully, to the gospel. So when Eroica did win the scholarship, Joannie was so excited.

  But her hopes quickly left her when they got to the music camp. No one worked harder than Eroica did those ten weeks of music camp. When the other students were in church, Eroica practiced. When the other students had Family Home Evening together, Eroica practiced. When the other students got together for a ward activity, Eroica practiced. Joannie felt that she had failed in her attempts to introduce the gospel to Eroica. Until now. Eroica finally consented, at the end of the summer, to go to church with her. So Joannie felt very anxious.

  “In years to come I think I’ll look back on this summer and have one clear memory,” Joannie reflected. “The night the flute choir performed Clair de Lune under the stars at Wilford Park. What a time we had putting that piece together. Twelve flutists, and all of them wanting to play the melody. Dr. Granger put me in charge of the rehearsals, and I was so nervous. We had so many problems with clashing personalities, and each girl wanting to play Debussy her own way. We only worked on it together for one week before Dr. Granger expected us to perform it. It was the first thing that we did perform together. We had only been at camp for eight days.

  “On the day of the performance we all went to Wilford Park to practice. It was so hot! Nobody wanted to practice and nobody was getting along. I didn’t know how we were going to get through the performance that night. I finally just told everyone to make sure that they made it on time to our performance. We were second on the program.

  “Well, everyone showed up on time and when it was our turn to perform, the sun had gone down and the stars were coming out. A canyon breeze was blowing and the night air felt so cool. Our turn came and we were all so relaxed. It was amazing!”

  “As we began to play, everything just fell into place. It was so beautiful. Everyone finally remembered what it was we loved so much about music. When the recital was over we all hugged each other, and we finally became friends. And we had so much fun in that flute choir for the rest of the summer.”

  Joannie leaned back and looked at the mountains that Eroica was gazing at so intently. “What will you remember from this summer, Eroica?”

  “Oh,” Eroica laughed, “The practice rooms. Come on Joannie, or we’ll be late for your church service.”

  The two girls looked around one last time at the campus that they would soon be leaving. Joannie thought of all the memories she had made. Eroica thought of all the memories she could have made. But summer was over now, and it was time to say goodbye.

  They walked the few blocks to the church building where members of the music camp were quickly gathering. Everyone wanted to have enough time to say their goodbyes and to exchange addresses. Joannie, who was full of confidence at age sixteen, knew everyone. Eroica, who was younger and only confident when behind a piano, knew no one. At least not well enough to talk with.

  “There are the girls from the flute choir,” cried Joannie. They were hovering around each other, giggling over past events and crying over the future separation.

  “Are any of your friends from the east coast?” Eroica asked, as they joined them.

  “No, they are all from the west. Marnee, Kristin, Alexandra, Jenny, and Harmony are all from California. Faith, Julia, and Heather are fr
om Washington. Charlotte and Stephanie are from Oregon. And April is from Idaho. Did I get all of that right?” she laughed. “Well, as long as I have everyone’s addresses, that’s all that matters. And as soon as we graduate from high school we are all going to wind up here at the Deseret College of Music. Don’t forget.”

  This was more of a plea than a statement. Everyone knew that it was highly unlikely that twelve girls from five states would ever get back together again. But just then nobody wanted to think about that.

  Since this was the last Sunday of music camp, a testimony meeting would be held for the church service. Eroica sat next to Joannie and all her flutist friends and listened. These were students her own age, some younger, and they seemed so sure of themselves. They would stand up in front of so many people and talk about the Book of Mormon and what wonderful meaning it had. Eroica had heard enough from Joannie to know that Joseph Smith had lived and died quite some time ago. And yet these people talked of him as if they knew him. They seemed to love him and believe in him as if he were alive today.

  Eroica watched with curiosity as Billy Stewart made his way to the front of the room. Billy was the youngest of all the students at the music camp. He was just going into high school and he was only twelve years old. He played the trumpet extremely well, yet he was painfully shy.

  Eroica remembered back to one of Joannie’s orchestra performances. As Eroica had listened to the music, she kept watching Billy. She had studied this particular symphony in theory class, and she knew that it had some difficult trumpet passages in the fourth movement. As the fourth movement began, Eroica could see that Billy was nervous. He did manage to get through his solo passages well, but Eroica could tell that those three or four lines of music took all the energy and nerve that he had. And now he was standing in front of a large group of people and was telling them, with all confidence, that he knew the Book of Mormon was true.

  Eroica sat there and allowed herself to feel a part of this group. For one small moment she wanted to feel as if she belonged with these people. She wanted to share their feelings and emotions. And not in the way that she did when she performed in a chamber ensemble or when she accompanied someone. She often wondered where the answers to so many of her questions would come from. She was young, but she was reflective enough to know that using music as the foundation for her life might not be enough. Eroica wanted so much to have a sense of belonging. She wondered if all these people had what she was looking for.

  As she tried to muddle through her feelings, a young man stood up and walked to the front of the chapel. He was rather handsome in a country-boy sort of way. No one would have suspected by looking at him that he was a musician. With uncooperating brown hair and dark brown eyes, he looked as if he would be right at home on a horse in the county rodeo.

  As he talked it seemed as if he had been life-long friends with everyone there. Not only did he know everyone, but he liked them too. Eroica wondered how she could have been there all summer and never have noticed him. But then, she wasn’t a Mormon, and she hadn’t come to music camp for entertainment. Friendships made during summers away from home never lasted. Eroica knew this from many such summers. Besides, he was going on a mission for two years. So it was just as well that Eroica had never met him.

  The meeting ended, the prayer was said, and yet nobody wanted to leave. Joannie was so caught up trying to say goodbye to every last person that Eroica was able to wander outside by herself. She had heard so much, and had so much to think about. She just wanted to step back for a minute, and take a deep breath, and be alone.

  She walked over to a large maple tree that was making some wonderful shade. Once again, she felt like Eroica, the young musician. Once again, the only anchor she had to hold onto was her music. As she stood there waiting for Joannie and watching small groups of people wandering reluctantly away, she saw the handsome future missionary coming out of the building. He was alone, she noticed with curiosity, for he seemed to be well-liked. She also noticed, with much surprise, that he was walking towards her.

  She looked around. Behind her there was a fence with a large decorative shrubbery that separated the church parking lot from a neighboring house. She was the only one standing there, so unless he had lost something in that corner of the parking lot, or intended to jump the fence, he was coming to talk with her. Eroica had just enough time to become mildly nervous before he reached her.

  “I’ve been watching you from the windows in the foyer,” he stated. “You are not a member of our church, are you?”

  “No, I’m not. I’m just a piano player,” she laughed.

  “Well, I’m just a cello player,” he rejoined. “So it’s no wonder that we didn’t have any classes together. I suppose that it would be hard to make room for a piano section in the orchestra. It’s hard enough to get space for all the cellos so our bows don’t crash into each other. And every once in a while the flutists whack each other on the side of the head. And the trombones. I certainly wouldn’t want to sit in front of them.”

  Eroica laughed at his absurdity. He had a way of making her a little less self-conscious.

  “My name is Eroica Hamilton, and I’m from Boston.”

  “Eroica. What an interesting name. It suits you. You are an interesting girl. Well, Eroica Hamilton, I am going on a mission.”

  “That’s so exciting. What an adventure it must be.”

  “Yes, but I don’t get many chances to practice my preaching skills. Would you let me practice my missionary tactics on you?”

  “So, that’s why you came over here. All right then, convert me,” she challenged.

  “What do you know about Jesus Christ?” he began. “Do you know that He loves you? Do you know that He cares about everything that happens to you? He wants you to be happy. He wants you to find out the truth for yourself.”

  Suddenly all of the lightheartedness was gone. He looked directly into her eyes and repeated, “Find out the truth for yourself.”

  She stared back at him, caught in the seriousness of his words. She didn’t know what to say or do. This was the biggest challenge she had ever been given. She wanted to ask him how, when suddenly a car drove up.

  “Hey, come on,” yelled a gruff voice.

  “Goodbye, Eroica Hamilton,” he almost whispered. Then he jumped into the car, and he was gone.

  Eroica stood in the parking lot and wondered what had just happened. But she had no answer. All she knew was that she didn’t want to have to talk to Joannie or any of Joannie’s friends just then. She didn’t think that she could be very sensible. She hurried back to the dormitory where she and Joannie had shared a room all summer. Once there, she flopped onto her bed, breathless and confused. His words rang in her ears, “Find out the truth.” As she thought about this, Joannie rushed in.

  “There you are,” she burst out. “Eroica, I’m so sorry that I lost you. I took you to an unfamiliar church meeting, and then I lost track of you. I’m not much of a missionary, am I?” She laughed nervously.

  “Oh, no, that’s not true. I’m so glad that you invited me to go. Everyone was so kind, and there was such a good feeling there. Joannie, tell me about your religion. Tell me what makes you so different. What makes everyone at this music camp so happy?”

  Here began Eroica’s conversion. She and Joannie sat on the bed and talked and talked. Eroica would never be the same again, would never feel the same again. She had begun her search for truth.

  The next day was full of commotion. Everyone was getting ready to head homeward. Some were trying to cram one last thing into their suitcases. And one or two people were squeezing in a few more minutes of practicing. Eroica and Joannie finally made it to the Salt Lake City Airport and onto a plane that would take them back to Boston. Eroica wanted to just sit and think the whole way home. She tried to tune out all the commotion going on around herself. She had no instrument to
worry about, and Joannie’s flute and piccolo didn’t take up much room.

  Their flight made a stop in Chicago, so there were quite a few people from music camp on the plane. Most of them were busy trying to find a safe place to put bassoons and trombones and French horns. One boy even had to buy a separate ticket for his string bass so that it could have its own seat.

  As the plane took off, Eroica thought about her life at home with her parents and her sister. When she left Boston at the beginning of the summer she was not thinking about religion. All she wanted to do was practice hard and learn as much as she could. And now she was flooded with so many new questions. Should music be her whole life? Does God really care? Is there a more important purpose than developing her talent? What is truth?

  As she wondered about all of this, a face took shape in her mind. It was a nice face, with caring brown eyes and a laughing smile. A face full of peace, happiness, purpose. She knew whose face it was. And yet she did not know. Who was this Mormon boy that was so excited about going on a mission? She didn’t even know his name.

  And then the answer came to her. Clearly, calmly, in such a way that she could never deny that she felt it and knew it to be true. This was the man that she was going to marry.

  Only fifteen years old and yet she knew the person that she would marry. And for the next two years he would be on a mission. She wondered what would happen in her life during that time.

  In that time she was converted to the gospel. But there was more in store for her than she had anticipated. She was baptized a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints on her twentieth birthday. It was a long-awaited day for her. She and her sister, AnnaMaria, had received the missionary discussions together. Joannie had introduced them to the missionaries right after she and Eroica had come back from music camp.

  AnnaMaria, who was seventeen, and Eroica wanted to be baptized right away. Their father, with his odd sense of humor, told them that they had to wait until they were twenty years old because “No teenager was capable of making a wise decision.” The girls knew what he really meant—music was to be their life, not religion.

  As far back as Eroica could remember, the piano had been a daily part of her life. She couldn’t remember when she began studying music. It had always been there. But music had not filled an unexplainable void in her life. Nor had it for AnnaMaria. So when the girls were taught the gospel, they immediately knew that this was what they were lacking.

  Their father, who had devoted his whole being to music, couldn’t understand why his girls wanted to “waste time with this church.” Eroica and AnnaMaria loved their father very much. They knew he wanted to give them something that he felt was so precious—a love for music. So AnnaMaria and Eroica went to church and the activities, made good friendships, and waited for their twentieth birthdays. With their growth in the gospel came more sensitivity with their music. Dr. Hamilton attributed it to the fact that his girls were growing up. But Eroica and AnnaMaria now understood that their musical skills and abilities were all a gift from God.

 

  Eroica was brought back to the present day by some children who were laughing and splashing water at each other from the fountain. She stood up and smiled at them. She knew that her parents would be fascinated with the tabernacle and would be in there for quite a while. So she walked around the temple and wondered about her future.

  Eroica had spent three years at the Deseret College of Music and had wanted to take a break. So she went with her parents to Germany for a year. She had spent the time practicing the piano and studying with various teachers. And now she was ready to tackle her last year of college. She wondered what this school year would be like for her. What would all the years be like for her? AnnaMaria was married and now had two children. Eroica couldn’t help feeling that life just might be slipping by and leaving her behind.

  She looked up at the glowing spires of the temple. A peaceful feeling swept over her, and she knew that whatever did or did not happen to her, she would not be alone. She turned back towards the tabernacle to search for her parents. By now, she figured, the security guards must on her father’s trail.