Roses and Sonatas [Harvest Moon: Tale of Two Towns]

Chapter 23

I had no idea where Mikhail might have gone, though the town hall or the mountain seemed the most likely places. I took a chance on the hall, thinking that even if he intended to go for a walk on the mountain, he might take his violin with him, and he hadn't had it with him when he stopped by my house.

I ran to the town hall, up the steps, down the hall, and to his room. There was no answer to my knock, and when I opened the door, it was dark and still inside. I turned on a light and looked around, but there was no sign of him or of his violin case.

Choking back a sob of frustration, I switched the light off again and closed the door, then ran back out into the street. I raced up the road out of town and a little ways outside the gates. There I stopped and just listened, hoping to hear the sound of his violin to guide me. Hearing nothing, I continued up the path, walking as quickly as I could without making any sound in the encroaching darkness. I stopped every few steps to listen, but still I heard nothing but the usual night sounds of the wilderness. It wasn't until I reached the bridge by the waterfall that I thought I caught a faint sound of music over the roaring waters, but I couldn't tell for sure where it was coming from—the waterfall masked the sound too well. I felt tears on my cheeks as the gentle breeze chilled them, and I stood motionless as I strained to hear. Then I closed my eyes, and thought....

After a moment, I had a flash of inspiration, and I ran quickly back up to the trail, then turned up a side path, oblivious to branches and brambles catching at my skin and clothes as I stumbled through the dark woods on the hillside. There was a secluded glade at the crest of the hill, hidden from the path by a thick stand of trees. It was the ideal place for someone to hide away from sight. Sure enough, as I scrambled up the hill, the sound of violin music grew louder. Finally I reached the edge of the clearing, and I paused to catch my breath as I looked around.

Standing near the far side of the clearing with his back to me was Mikhail, cloaked in shadows as he played the violin fiercely, venting his emotions in a wild, impassioned improvisation. He was so focused on his music, he didn't even hear me approach. Unwilling to shock him out of his cathartic transfixure, I sank to the ground and watched, waiting for him to notice me or at least to come back down to earth.

After several minutes, he ceased, lowering his violin. He dropped to his knees, his head bowed. I thought I caught the sound of a stifled sob and scrambled to my feet in dismay. He jumped up and whirled around. I couldn't see his face—the moon was too near new to provide more than a faint glimmer of light—but I could imagine the fury that would be directed toward an unknown interloper, especially catching him at such a time. "Mikhail?" I called to him. He didn't answer, but I could see from his silhouette that he relaxed his defensive stance as he recognized my voice. He knelt down, and I heard the sound of his violin case clicking closed.

The dark figure straightened up, then slowly walked towards me. I shivered, partly from the cool evening breeze and partly from uncertainty, unfamiliar with his strange mood. He stopped before me, reached out a hand to stroke my hair, then he swiftly wound my hair around his hand and pulled me hard against him, making me gasp in shock. He held me tightly against him, kissing me intensely, almost ferally. He pulled back, then started to kiss my neck, whispering in a low, throaty whisper, "I want you to kiss me like you kissed him. To look at me like you did him." He continued kissing my neck, even biting my skin as his caresses grew more frenetic. Then suddenly he stopped and let go of me, then cupping my face in his hands, he said, "I want you to love me more than you love him." Then he sank to his knees, wrapping his arms around me and burying his face against my belly as a low moan escaped him.

I didn't know what to do, so I did the only thing I could think of—I tried to soothe and comfort him. I knelt next to him, put my arms around him and held him while murmuring soft words of reassurance. Eventually he seemed to grow quieter, as if some of his inner turmoil had finally been dispelled. I pulled him to his feet, and he rose, but although he didn't resist me, neither did he move of his own volition. So I slowly walked back to where he'd been playing, looking for his violin case and trying to avoid stepping on it in the dark. I found it, picked it up, and returned to him.