Angel with a Mission

Katharina brushed her auburn tresses until they shone while she hummed one of her favorite songs from her role in Wagner’s opera, Das Rheingold. The Belle Epoch decor enveloped her as her eyes traveled from the image in her Victorian oval shaped mirror to the gold floral pattern in her wall coverings. Ever since her parents had taken her to see Wagner’s The Flying Dutchman when she was a little girl, she was smitten with the opera. She acted out the parts she favored, and memorized many of the songs. Singing was her life. I cannot believe how much my life has changed since my first role in Hansel and Gretel, she mused. Who knows? Perhaps one day I may even be as famous as Lilli Lehmann. A pensive smile crossed her face as she reveled in the resounding applause her audiences praised her with each time she stepped out onto the stage. Germany adored her. A loud, urgent knock at her door interrupted her thoughts. “Who’s there?” Katharina asked impatiently. “It’s me, Greta. Let me in. I have some great news.” Before Kata could answer, she barged in abruptly and seated herself on the nearby settee. She smiled at Kata, as if she was about to reveal the biggest event of the century. Couldn’t it wait until after the performance? I’m not quite ready and I am expected on stage any moment.” Greta emphatically placed her hands on her hips. “No, it can’t, Kata. I just talked with Director Hans Schumer and he is working on the plans for his next great production, Wagner’s Die Feen.” Greta leaned closer to Kata and spoke in a low, urgent tone. “You will never guess who he is going to star in the leading role.” “I could care less, Greta. I am trying to get ready for the opening act. You, on the other hand, still have two more scenes before you have to come out. Can’t you tell me later? No. I think you will be very interested in this—because, you see Liebe, you are going to be offered the lead role.” Now I know you are teasing me. I can think of a number of women who he might consider first. Besides, Herr Schumer would have told me before he said anything to you, I am sure of it. And I definitely haven’t been approached by him.” “I have my ways of finding things out—you know Hans is putty in my hands,” Greta said in a self-confident tone. “I’ve been pushing him for months now to consider you for the part of Ada. You are perfect for it.” “I just don’t know what to make of you, Greta. You certainly can wrap Herr Schumer around your little finger, but this—this is just too incredible—even for you to achieve,” said Kata, shaking her head. “Mark my words, Kata. It is a part made for you. No one else can play Ada better than you. You have the voice and the looks for it. Before the week is out, you’ll see. Hans will offer you that part. “Look. I appreciate all that you have done for me, Greta. You are a dear friend and a wonderful roommate, but sometimes you are just too impetuous. Wouldn’t it be best to let Herr Schumer choose who he wants rather than be pushed into such a choice Liebe? On the off chance that he does offer me the role, I’d much rather know he chose me because he thought of it, not you.” “Honestly, Kata, you have been like a sister to me. I have always looked out for you. I thought you would be more appreciative of my help.” With that, Greta turned and left the room almost as quickly as she had entered, leaving Kata to ponder her words. She certainly had not meant to hurt Greta’s feelings, yet it bothered her that she was always meddling into Kata’s life—even if she did mean well. True, she knew that Greta was trying to be helpful, still for Herr Schumer to make her such an offer? That was almost unfathomable. On the other hand, Greta did seem to have an uncanny knack for making things work out the way she wanted. So what if Greta was right? Oh well, she needed to finish getting ready and let the matter rest for now. She straightened her costume, checked her make up one more time, and stepped out of her dressing room and onto the stage. As she danced with the other flower girls, she glanced from time to time at the front row. Her eyes focused on one particular gentleman. He sat in the same seat for almost all of her shows. Each time she looked his way, he was staring intently at her. Her alone. He didn’t seem to see anyone else. Who is that gentleman? His eyes—they . . . they’re piercing into my very soul. It is driving me mad! Oh, Katharina, stop it! You are being superstitious. Just focus on your performance. She sang with great passion, fleeing away from reality once again as she waltzed into the woods with the rest of the maidens. The stranger faded out of her thoughts . . . for the moment.