The Kirche St. Peter was packed; there was standing room only. "You're not going to sit down, anyway," Dr. Krauer-Poppe told Jack. "And you're going to leave, just before your father finishes. William doesn't want you to see the end of it--not the first time."
"The end of what?" Jack asked her. "Why would I leave before he finishes?"
"Please trust me," Anna-Elisabeth said. "Klaus--Dr. Horvath--will take you outside. He knows the right moment." She covered her face with her hands again. "We all know it," she said, with her face hidden.
The stone floor of the church was polished gray marble. There were blond wooden chairs instead of pews, but the chairs stood in lines as straight as pews. The congregation faced front, with their backs to the organ--as if there were going to be an actual service, with a sermon and everything. Jack wondered why the audience didn't turn their chairs around, so they could at least see the organist they had come to hear--so faithfully, as he now understood it.
The organ was on the second floor, to the rear of the church--above the congregation. The organ bench--what little Jack could see of it--appeared to face away from the altar. The organist looked only at the silver organ pipes, framed in wood, which towered above him.
How austere, Jack was thinking. The organist turns his back to the congregation, and vice versa!
A black urn of flowers stood beneath the elevated wooden pulpit. Above the altar was an inscription.
Matth. IV. 10.
Du solt anbatten
Den Herren deinen Gott
Und Ihm allein
dienen.
It was a kind of old-fashioned German. Jack had to ask Dr. Krauer-Poppe for a translation. " 'You shall worship the Lord your God and Him only you shall serve,' " she told him.
"I guess my dad is what you'd call a true believer," Jack said.
"William never proselytizes," Anna-Elisabeth said. "He can believe what he wants. He never tells me or anyone else what to believe."
"Except for the forgiveness part," Jack pointed out to her. "He's pretty clear on the subject of my forgiving my mother."
"That's not necessarily religious, Jack," Dr. Krauer-Poppe said. "That's just common sense, isn't it?"
She led Jack outside the church again, and they went in a door and up some stairs to the second floor--where the organ was. It was a smaller organ than Jack was used to seeing--very pretty, with light-colored wood. It had fifty-three stops and was built by a firm called Muhleisen in Strasbourg.
Jack looked down at the congregation and saw that even the people who were standing were facing the altar, not the organ. "Nobody wants to see, I guess," he said to Anna-Elisabeth.
"Just leave with Dr. Horvath when he tells you," Dr. Krauer-Poppe told him. "After William plays, he will need some ice water, and then the hot wax, and then more ice water. If you come out to Kilchberg in the late morning, maybe you can go jogging with him--and with Dr. Horvath. Later this afternoon, you can hear him play blindfolded--for the yoga class. Or you can watch one of your own movies with him!" she said excitedly. "Just leave when it's time--okay? I'm not kidding."
"Okay," Jack said to her.
When Dr. Horvath and Jack's father came up the stairs to the second floor, many people in the congregation turned their heads to look at William Burns. William was all business; he acknowledged no one, not even Jack. His dad just nodded at the organ. Jack felt Dr. Krauer-Poppe brush against his arm. Anna-Elisabeth wanted Jack to know that this was how William was before he played. (How had she put it the night before? "William is what he is.")
There was no applause from the congregation to acknowledge him; there wasn't a murmur, but Jack had never heard such a respectful silence.
Dr. Horvath was carrying the music. (There was what looked like a lot of music.) "Normally he plays for one hour," Dr. Horvath whispered loudly in Jack's ear. "But today, because you're here, he's playing a half hour longer!"
Naturally, Dr. Krauer-Poppe overheard him; perhaps everyone in the congregation could hear Dr. Horvath whisper. "Do you think that's a good idea, Klaus?" Anna-Elisabeth asked Dr. Horvath.
"Is there a pill to make me stop?" Jack's father asked Dr. Krauer-Poppe, but Jack could tell that his dad was just teasing her; his mischievous smile was intact. When William sat down on the organ bench, he looked into Jack's eyes--as if Jack had told him, at that very moment, how much he loved him and every inch of his skin. "Did you remember to call your sister, Jack?" his dad asked him.
"Of course I called her. We talked and talked."
"Dear boy," was all William said. His eyes had drifted to the keyboard; Jack could hear his father's feet softly brushing the pedals.
Anna-Elisabeth had taken the music from Dr. Horvath and was looking through it. "I see finger-cramping possibilities, William--lots of them," she told him.
"I see music," William said, winking at her. "Lots of it."
Jack was nervous and counted the chandeliers. (They were glass and silver; he counted twenty-eight of them.)
"Later we'll go jogging!" Dr. Horvath told Jack. "I'm going to dinner with you and William tonight. We'll give the girls the night off!"
"Great--I'm looking forward to it," Jack told him.
"Unfortunately, it's not the Kronenhalle," Dr. Horvath said. "But it's a special little place. The owner knows me, and he loves your father. They always cover the mirrors when they know William's coming!" Dr. Horvath whispered--for everyone to hear. "How brilliant is that?"
"Bitte, Klaus!" Dr. Krauer-Poppe said.
Jack could see that she was going to turn the music for his dad, who appeared ready to play. No one in the congregation was looking in their direction now. The congregation faced that stern command from the Gospel According to Saint Matthew: "You shall worship the Lord your God and Him only you shall serve."
William held his hands at shoulder level, above the keyboard. Jack heard him take a deep breath. By the way the congregation straightened their backs, Jack could tell that they'd heard his father, too--it was a signal.
"Here comes!" said Dr. Horvath; he bowed his head and closed his eyes.
William's hands appeared to be floating on a body of warm, rising air--like a hawk, suspended on a thermal. Then he let his hands fall. It was a piece by Bach, a choral prelude--"Liebster Jesu, wir sind hier." ("Blessed Jesus, We Are Here.")
"Tranquillo," Dr. Horvath said with surprising softness, in Italian.
After that, Jack just listened to his father play. Jack couldn't believe how William kept playing, or how no one in the congregation left--how they never moved a muscle. They were standing, Dr. Horvath and Jack--Dr. Krauer-Poppe stood the whole time, too. Jack couldn't speak for the others, but his legs didn't get tired; he just stood there, absorbing the sound. William Burns played on and on--all his favorites. (What Heather had called "the old standards.")
William played for over an hour. They heard Handel, and everyone else. When his dad began Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D Minor--the famous piece that had been such a crowd-pleaser among the prostitutes in the Oude Kerk in Amsterdam--Dr. Horvath nudged Jack.
"We are almost leaving," Dr. Horvath said.
Naturally, Jack didn't want to go, but he saw that Anna-Elisabeth was watching him. Jack trusted her; he trusted them all. It was a hard piece of music to go down the stairs to, but Dr. Horvath and Jack quietly descended. His father was too busy playing to see them go.
It was warm in the church; all the doors were open, and the windows that would open were open, too. The sound of the Bach poured into the little square; it came outdoors with them. The Bach was not as loud outside--in the trees, or on the stone stairs leading away from the church--but you could hear every note of it, almost as clearly as you could hear it in St. Peter.
That was when Jack saw all the people in the open windows and doorways of the surrounding buildings. Everywhere he looked, there were people--just listening.
"Of course it's not quite like this in the winter!" Dr. Horvath was saying. "But still they come to h
ear him play."
Jack stood at the bottom of the church stairs, in the middle of the little square--just listening and looking at all the people. There wasn't a sound from the construction workers, who had long ago stopped working. They were standing at attention on the scaffolding, their tools at rest--just listening. The man who'd been wielding the hammer had his shirt off; the two men who'd been working with the flexible saw were smoking. The fourth worker, the pipefitter, held a small piece of pipe in one hand--like a baton. He was pretending to be a conductor, conducting the music.
"Those clowns!" Dr. Horvath said. He looked at his watch. "No finger-cramping episodes so far!"
The Bach sounded like it was winding up, or down. "There's more?" Jack asked. "Another piece after this?"
"One more," Dr. Horvath said, nodding.
Jack realized, from the way they were standing, that the construction workers on the scaffolding knew the program as well as Dr. Horvath knew it; they looked as if they were getting ready for something.
Suddenly the Bach was over. It happened simultaneously with a puzzling exodus--families with children were leaving the church. Some of the mothers with younger children were running; only the adults and the teenagers stayed.
"Cowards!" Dr. Horvath said contemptuously; he kicked a stone. "Get ready, Jack. I'll see you later--for some jogging!" Jack realized that Dr. Horvath was preparing to leave him.
Jack also realized that he knew the last piece. In his case, he'd just heard Heather play it in Old St. Paul's. How could he ever forget it? It was Boellmann's horror-movie Toccata. The construction workers knew the Boellmann, too--perhaps William Burns always played it last. The construction workers clearly knew everything that was coming.
It wasn't at all like not being able to hear it, when Jack had stood outside Old St. Paul's. What poured out of the Kirche St. Peter was deafening. Jack was not familiar enough with the Boellmann to detect his father's first mistake, the first finger-cramping episode, but Dr. Horvath obviously heard it; he winced and made a fist of one hand, as if he'd just shut his fingers in a car door. "Time for me to go back inside!" Dr. Horvath cried.
There came a second mistake, and a third; now Jack could hear the errors.
"His fingers?" he asked Dr. Horvath.
"You can't believe how the Boellmann hurts him, Jack," Dr. Horvath said, "but he can't stop playing."
Jack thought of those prostitutes within hearing distance of the Oude Kerk, no matter how late at night or how early in the morning; now he knew why they couldn't go home if William Burns was playing.
At the fourth mistake, Dr. Horvath was off running. "I like to be there when he starts undressing!" he called to Jack, taking the stairs three at a time.
The music raged on--the soundtrack for a chase scene to end all chase scenes, Jack imagined. In his next movie, there might be such a scene. Maybe he could get his dad to play the Boellmann--mistakes and all.
The errors, even Jack could tell, were mounting. The construction workers were poised on the scaffolding.
"I have a son!" Jack heard his father yell, over the deteriorating toccata. "I have a daughter and a son!" his dad shouted. Then William's fingers locked--his fists came crashing down on the keyboard. A flock of pigeons exploded from the clock tower of the Kirche St. Peter, and the construction workers started singing.
"I have a son!" they sang; they had even learned English, listening to William Burns. "I have a daughter and a son!" they sang out. They had more enthusiasm than talent, but Jack had to love them.
"Venite exultemus Domino!" his father sang, the way you would sing or chant a psalm.
One might assume that ordinary construction workers in Zurich wouldn't necessarily know Latin, but this wasn't the first time these men had listened to William Burns, and--as Anna-Elisabeth had told Jack--these workers were a little different.
"Venite exultemus Domino!" the four workers sang back to Jack's father.
The man who'd earlier been hammering now held his hammer in one hand, his arm high above his head; the two workers with the flexible saw held it aloft, as if they were offering a sacrifice. The pipefitter had seized a long length of pipe, which he held straight up--like a flagpole.
"Venite exultemus Domino!" Jack's dad and the workers sang out, together.
Jack knew the Latin only because he'd just been at Old St. Paul's with his sister. "Come let us praise the Lord!" their father was singing. "I have a son. I have a daughter and a son! Come let us praise the Lord!"
The construction workers went on singing with William.
People were coming out of the church--now that the Boellmann no longer thundered on, now that there was no impending collision. Jack knew that his dad had taken off all his clothes, or he was in a partly undressed phase of the process. Back at the Sanatorium Kilchberg, Nurse Bleibel--either Waltraut or Hugo--would be getting the ice water ready. And then the hot wax, and then more ice water--as Anna-Elisabeth had explained.
Soon William Burns would be standing naked in the Kirche St. Peter, if he wasn't naked already--his full-body tattoos his only choir. And then, both gently and efficiently, Dr. Horvath would begin to dress him--or both Dr. Horvath and Dr. Krauer-Poppe would dress him. After that, they would be on their way--back to the clinic.
The concert was over, but the construction workers were still applauding. That was when Jack knew that he and his father had always been playing to an audience of more than one--although it had helped Jack, as a child, to believe that he was performing only for his father. (Jack and his dad would have to have a conversation about William's dispute with The Wurtz over the word audience--that and many other conversations.)
Jack walked away from the square, down those narrow streets. Some of his father's congregation were in the streets; they walked along with him. It was quite a wonderful feeling to know that Zurich was where Jack belonged, at least until William Burns was sleeping in the needles.
Jack was thinking that he would go back to the Hotel zum Storchen and change into something more suitable for jogging.
It was after midnight in Los Angeles--too late to call Dr. Garcia at home. But Jack didn't need to have a conversation with his psychiatrist. He would call her office and leave a message on her answering machine. "Thank you for listening to me, Dr. Garcia," Jack would tell her.
It was four-thirty in the morning in Toronto, or some ungodly hour like that. Caroline would still be sleeping, but she wouldn't mind a wake-up call from Jack--not if it was about his father, her dear William. In fact, Jack couldn't wait to tell Miss Wurtz that he had found him.
Acknowledgments
In Toronto: Helga Stephenson, Bruce Smuck, Dr. Martin Schwartz, Detective Ray Zarb, Debbie Piotrowski.
In Edinburgh: Mary Haggart, Bishop Richard Holloway, Florence Ingleby, Alan Taylor, Kerstie Howell, Aly Barr, Bill Stronach, David Valentine, John Kitchen, Elaine Kelly, Euan Ferguson.
In Halifax and New Glasgow, Nova Scotia: Charles Burchell; Jerry Swallow, a.k.a. Sailor Jerry; Dave Schwarz.
In Copenhagen: Susanne Bent Andersen, Kirstin Ringhof, Merete Borre, Trine Licht, Morten Hesseldahl, Lisbeth Moller-Madsen, Lasse Ewerlof, Bimbo.
In Stockholm: Charlotte Aquilonius, Doc Forest, Torvald Toren, Unn Palm, Anna Andersson.
In Oslo: Mai Gaardsted, Janneken Overland, Kare Nordstoga.
In Helsinki: Olli Arrakoski, Paivi Haarala, Jaakko Tapaninen, Tapio Tittu, Diego, Nipa, Taru.
In Amsterdam: Robbert Ammerlaan; Joep de Groot; Henk Schiffmacher, a.k.a. Hanky Panky; Louise van Teylingen; Willem Vogel.
In Los Angeles: Robert Bookman, Richard Gladstein, Alan Hergott.
In Zurich: Ruth Geiger, Anna von Planta, Professor Waldemar Greil, Dr. Andreas Horvath, Dr. Oliver Hartmann, Dr. Stephanie Krebs, Dr. Alice Walder, Dr. Christine Huwig-Poppe.
Special thanks to: Kelly Harper Berkson, David Calicchio, Kate Medina, Harvey Ginsberg, Craig Nova, Alyssa Barrett, Amy Edelman, Janet Turnbull Irving.
Permission Acknowledgments
r /> Grateful acknowledgment is made to the following for permission to reprint previously published material:
Carcanet Press Limited: Excerpt from "A Slice of Wedding Cake" from Complete Poems in One Volume by Robert Graves, published by Carcanet Press Limited. Reprinted by permission.
Hope Publishing Company and Stainer & Bell Ltd.: Excerpt from "Lord of the Dance" by Sydney Carter (1915-2004), copyright (c) 1963 by Stainer & Bell Ltd. Rights in the United States and Canada administered by Hope Publishing Company, Carol Stream, IL 60188. Rights throughout the rest of the world administered by Stainer & Bell Ltd., 23 Gruneisen Road, London, N3 1DZ, England. Reprinted by permission of Hope Publishing Company and Stainer & Bell Ltd.
Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC: Excerpt from "When I'm 64" by John Lennon and Paul McCartney, copyright (c) 1967 (renewed) by Sony/ATV Tunes LLC. All rights administered by Sony/ATV Music Publishing, 8 Music Square West, Nashville, TN, 37203. All rights reserved. Used by permission.
Special Rider Music: Excerpt from "Don't Think Twice, It's All Right" by Bob Dylan, copyright (c) 1963 by Warner Bros. Inc. and copyright renewed 1991 by Special Rider Music; excerpt from "Mama, You Been on My Mind" by Bob Dylan, copyright (c) 1964 by Warner Bros. Inc. and copyright renewed 1992 by Special Rider Music; excerpt from "Mr. Tambourine Man" by Bob Dylan, copyright (c) 1964 by Warner Bros. Inc. and copyright renewed 1992 by Special Rider Music; excerpt from "Just Like a Woman" by Bob Dylan, copyright (c) 1966 by Dwarf Music; excerpt from "It's All Over Now Baby Blue" by Bob Dylan, copyright (c) 1964 by Warner Bros. Inc. and copyright renewed 1992 by Special Rider Music; excerpt from "Idiot Wind" by Bob Dylan, copyright (c) 1974 by Ram's Horn Music; excerpt from "I Want You" by Bob Dylan, copyright (c) 1966 by Dwarf Music. All rights reserved. International copyright secured. Reprinted by permission.
The Society of Authors: Excerpt from "Oh When I Was in Love with You" by A. E. Housman. Reprinted by permission of The Society of Authors as the Literary Representative of the Estate of A. E. Housman.
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