Madeline shook her head as she looked up from her book, “Who do you think will ever listen to you,” she asked. The question was directed at Erica who was singing warm-up scales across the room. Erica shrugged, “Someone will,” she said with quiet determination.
“Do you see concert halls full of people in your dreams,” Madeline asked contemptuously.
Erica smiled, “Perhaps.”
Madeline snorted. “It will never happen,” she declared, “No one will ever want to listen to you.”
“I can still practice.” Erica spoke quietly and went back to her scales as Madeline went back to her reading. This was an oft repeated scene. Since Erica started singing, she had heard that she would never sing for anyone important and that she might as well give it up. But she dreamed of singing on a stage to an audience full of people, so she kept practicing.
Months past, Erica moved to a big city miles away to continue her musical studies and find a concert hall to sing in. Madeline would usually open Erica’s letters with a slightly scornful smile on her face. “I am scheduled to sing next week at the Rosenberg Theater,” one letter read, “That is one of the biggest most prestigious theaters in the land. It is almost always packed full. What do you say to the fact that I can sing now?”
Madeline tossed the letter aside and sat down to write a quick reply. “Congratulations seem to be in order,” Madeline wrote, “although I’d say after the performance will be the better time to see which of us was right about your singing abilities.”
Erica read this letter the day before the performance. She tossed it into the waste bin. She could careless what Madeline said. At the moment she was too full of visions of fame.
Erica was jittery the next day as the concert started. She looked out over the audience. The house was packed. She sang near the beginning of the concert. Her knees where shaking as she walked out onto stage. The pianist played an introduction and Erica started to sing. Her voice cracked a little as she got into the song. Somehow, the high note in the middle was slightly off key. She had practiced and practiced that part; it annoyed her to miss it. She finished the song with a strong clear note. The audience applauded. A polite applause that communicated it was not impressed. They were used to superb music here. Erica was more than disappointed.
She hastened off stage. She could see the headlines tomorrow, or rather lack of headline and some review on the back page of a third rated newspaper, “New singer Erica Lambert is mediocre at best and has no voice.” She arrived back in her room and buried her head in her hands for a good cry. Perhaps, everyone was right and she had no business singing. She thought of the confident words she had written the week before. Should she just give in and quit singing?
The next morning the sun slid up over the horizon and onto Erica’s face. She woke up and listened to the bird singing outside her window. She got out of bed and went to look at it. He was sitting on the edge of the branch in a near by tree. He often sat there and sang. Erica leaned against the window cell and watched him for a while.
“You sing even if no one listens,” she remarked to the bird. The bird did not respond but flew to a different branch and kept singing. Erica turned around with a determined air. “So, can I,” she said out loud. And so, she got dressed and went to her voice lessons and practiced for hours in her room.
A few weeks late, another letter arrived from Madeline, “I’ve searched the newspapers for weeks,” she wrote, “looking for a soaring review of the kingdom’s new favorite singer and somehow cannot find one. Does your silence indicate the concert was a flop and are you ready to come home yet?”
Erica quickly responded to this, “The concert was not the sensation, I had hoped but I have not given up. I am going to keep singing. Who knows where it will lead.”
Madeline shook her head over this and commented on the folly of it. Erica did not care. She kept singing. Several months later she had a chance to sing in one of the other theaters. This one did not go much better. But she kept singing. She knew there was an audience out there somewhere for her to sing too.
Several months past this way. One summer day, Erica opened the window in the kitchen and set about doing the dishes. Her voice rose in an old childhood favorite song. A horse drew up outside the house as the rider listened to the song. “That voice is superb,” the rider commented to his companion. “I must hear it again.” They continued on their way as Erica finished up the dishes.
The next afternoon a sharp knock sounded on the front door. Erica hastened to open it. “Do you sing,” asked a messenger of the king.
“Yes,” Erica answered in surprise.
“Were you singing yesterday around 5pm,” the messenger inquired further.
“Yes,” Erica replied again, a worried expression came over her face. She was hastily going over the words of the song she had sang. They were nothing bad.
“Then,” the messenger replied, “The king requests your presence. Will you come with me?”
“Of course,” Erica said in shock. She could not imagine why the king would want her presence.
The messenger lead the way to the palace. They entered a large stately drawing room. Both Erica and the messenger bowed as they approached the king.
“This is the young woman you heard yesterday,” the messenger informed the king.
“Thank you for coming,” The king said to Erica, “I happened to be riding by your house yesterday and heard you singing. The song you sang was one my mother used to sing when I was young and I have not heard it since nor with such beauty as I heard yesterday. Would you mind singing it for me?”
Erica bowed slightly, “I would be honored to singing it for you,” she replied.
Nervousness swept over her as she started to sing. Her voice cracked slightly and her throat went dry. The king seemed to sense her nervousness. He rose from his throne and walked over to her. Gently, he laid a hand on her shoulder. “Just pretend you are at home and no one is around to hear you,” he said kindly, “I can go behind a screen if that would help, or put my hands over my eyes like a little child who thinks that if you they can’t see you, you can’t see them.”
Erica laughed. That relieved the tension. The king ordered a glass of water for her and while they waited for it, they talked about common place things. He put her completely at ease. Once, Erica had a drink she began again. The song rose and filled the room. Erica soon forgot the king was there and sang with her heart.
The king broken into a thunderous applause when she finished. “That was wonderful,” he declared. “Do you know any other songs?”
Erica confirmed that she did and sang a few more for the king. When she left it, the king arranged for her to come back every week to sing for him. And so she did. Sometimes other royal family members would be there, sometimes it was just the king. Erica got so use to singing for the king the she was no longer nervous. She loved to hear his words of praise and focused on pleasing him alone, even if others were in the room their opinion did not matter. She did not care that the Queen mother did not like her selection one week, after all the king had suggested it. Nor did it bother her that Lord Black disproved of her voice all together, for the king was charmed by it and his was the one opinion she cared about.
One day the king told her he was having a massive concert, the biggest in Rosenburg. People were expected to come from all over. “I want you to be the star singer,” he told her, “I’ve planned out all the music and know just which pieces you should sing.”
“I could never sing in front of a crowd,” Erica replied, “Last time I tried that I got nervous and failed big time.”
The king smiled. “I don’t want you to sing for the crowd,” he said. “Just sing to please me. It does not matter what anyone else things. I love hearing you sing and that is why you are the main act. Forget about all the crowds and focus only on me.”
Erica smiled a sweet smile. “I can do that,” she promised and carefully practiced the songs the king longed to hear. Madeline arrived at her house the day before the big concert.
“Well,” she said as they sat together that evening, “Are you thrilling the crowds who attend concerts in Rosenburg yet?”
Erica shook her head. No, she was not thrilling any crowds.
“I thought not,” Madeline said knowingly. “I really think it is about time you gave up your singing and come home with me. You have not found an audience yet and likely will not find one.”
“I have found an audience,” Erica replied, “and I sing to that audience quite often. There is no need for me to quit music yet.”
“But you said you were thrilling no crowds,” Madeline asked in surprised.
“It is an audience of one,” Erica replied, “And that one is worth more than all the crowds combined.”
And the next day, Erica walked out onto the stage in front of the largest crowd to ever attend a concert in Rosenburg. She did not look at the sea of people, or see the surprised look on Madeline’s face. She looked straight at the king and sang for his pleasure. Her songs rose on the wind and the sweet notes lingered in the evening breeze. The audience drew a collective satisfied sigh as she finished and erupted into thunderous applause. Erica noticed none of this, she saw the king’s smile and pleased nod. She walked off the stage satisfied, knowing she had pleased her audience of one.