The Gift
by Dorothy Elggren
Part 3

See Part 1 for comments.

	"I finished waxing the car," Mark informed Nick, as he plopped
down wearily on the chair next to Nick.  He folded his arms on the
table and then lay his head down on his arms with a sigh.  "It sure is
a big car.  It's miles from the back doors to the fins."
	Nick looked up from the ledger he was working in.  Vampire or
not, he was now a tax-paying member of the mortal community due to his
job as a cop, and he had to make sure all his 'earned' money was
accounted for and that there were no glitches where the infamous IRS
could discover his 'other' money or activities.
	"That so?" Nick inquired amused.
	Mark sat up and leaned back in his chair, "Yeah.  I thought it
was pretty until I had to wax it.  Why'd you get such a big car for
just one of you?"
	"Trunk space," Nick replied with a grin.
	"Huh?"
	"Actually, it was the fins.  I liked 'em.  I liked the
whole car.  So I bought it," Nick amended.
	"Bet you never waxed it," Mark said a little crossly.
	"Oh, yes, I have.  No one else besides me ever waxed that
beauty until you."
	"Really?"
	"Really."
	"I think its time you bought a new car.  A smaller car," Mark
announced.  "After all, it's three years old, and Mustangs are the
bestest."
	Nick smiled in amusement.  "Thanks, but I think I'll keep the
Caddy."
	Mark shrugged.  "Okay, but I'm too tired to do anything else
today."  He leaned over against Nick and surveyed the ledger.  "Yuck."
	"Yeah," Nick agreed.  He looked at Mark conspiratorially.
"Let's do something else."
	Mark brightened.  "Okay."
	Nick slammed the ledger shut and headed for the piano.  He'd
never realized how much joy he'd get out of his small assistant.  Mark
had been a breath of fresh air in his musty head.  Like clock-work for
the last month he had showed up at 4:30 weekdays and for one to two
hours did anything and everything that Nick wanted.  While Mark mainly
did small errands and cleaning, fun had slipped into their daily
routine, and that had included riding the motorcycle one evening
(which they carefully never mentioned to his mother) and a side trip
to the park.  Most evenings Mark worked very hard, and Nick was proud
of him-- and Mark worshipped Nick.  It was something that made Nick a
bit uneasy, but if he admitted it, he'd grown to love his
freckle-faced shadow, too.
	He sat down at the piano and Mark joined him.
	"What did your Grandfather used to play?" Nick asked.  He'd
seen Mark eyeing the piano, and often touching it.  He decided it was
time to find out how deep Mark's interest in the piano was.  Mark
looked up at him in surprise.  "Lot's of stuff.  But he really liked
ragtime."
	Nick put his hands on the keys and after a moment's thought
began to play the Maple Leaf Rag.
	"Hey!" Mark said in surprise, and then he sat back and
listened, his legs swinging to the music.  The Peacherine rag
followed, and Mark bounced in time to the music grinning ear to ear.
As it came to a close, Mark whispered hopefully, "Do you know 'The
Five Pennies'?
	Nick thought for a moment and then smiled.  "You mean the one
from the movie with Danny Kaye?"
	"I dunno.  It's just one Grandpa used to sing about pennies
that make you a millionaire."
	"That's the one," Nick said cheerfully, and with a grin he
began to play it--from memory--since he'd only seen the movie once.

	"This little penny is to wish on,
	And make your wishes come true.
	This little penny is to dream on,
	And dream of all you can do."

	Mark joined him, suddenly surprising Nick.

	"This little penny is a dancing penny,
	See how it glitters and it glows;
	As bright as a whistle,
	Light as a thistle,
	Quick, quick as a wink, 
	Up on it's twinkling toe,
	Oh, this little penny is to laugh on,
	To see that tears never fall.
	This little penny is the last little penny,
	And most important of all,
	For this penny is to love on,
	And where love is heaven is there,
	So with just five pennies,
	If they're these five pennies,
	You'll be a millionaire."

	Mark sat silently for a long time after the notes faded away.
Nick waited patiently.
	"Grandpa used to sing that to me all the time," Mark said
finally.  "We'd sing that over and over.  He even gave me five
pennies.  Said they were special and if I held onto them I'd be rich.
But we aren't."
	"That's not the kind of rich he was talking about," Nick said
softly.  "Money doesn't make you happy.  Being able to have hopes and
dreams, Mark, is what life is all about.  If you have a dream, nothing
is impossible.
	"And being able to laugh, well, if you can't find anything to
laugh about, life is miserable.  Then there's love, it's the most
important thing there is.  That's what makes you rich, because that's
what makes you happy--not money."
	Mark squinted up at Nick.  "You sound like Grandpa."
	"Well, he's right," Nick said.
	"Well, then why is everything so hard?"
	"I don't know," Nick admitted, "it just is."
	"Yeah," Mark agreed with a sigh.
	"Do you still have the pennies?" Nick asked.
	Mark nodded sheepishly.
	"If you remember what they stand for, no matter how hard life
is, you'll be happy."
	Mark looked at Nick suspiciously.  "Sure."
	Nick shrugged, "It'll make sense one day, trust me."
	Mark grinned at that and ran his hands along the piano.  "I
suppose."
	Then he changed subjects, "Grandpa," Mark said, "would have
liked you.  You think like him."
	"I think I would have liked him, too," Nick agreed.
	"He was always trying to teach me.  We used to sit and play,
and he'd help me learn the keys," Mark said slowly, tentatively
touching a key.
	Nick looked down at Mark.  So he had not been mistaken in
Mark's interest.  "Did you like playing?"
	Mark nodded his head.  "I even tried learning by myself after
he died, but then Papa sold the piano."
	Nick digested what Mark wasn't saying.
	"Mark, do you want to learn to play the piano?"  There was a
long silence.
	"Yes..." It was barely a whisper, and looking down, Nick
noticed that Mark's hands were suddenly clenched so tightly that they
were white.  He looked up at Nick, a sudden anguish on his face.  "I
can hear the music in my head, but I can't get it out.  There's no
place to get it out."
	Nick, looking into that small desperate face, remembered being
a boy not so much older than Mark, whittling his first flute out of a
birch and begging Frere Mattias to teach him to play.  Because there
had been music inside his head.  So much music.  And through the
centuries he'd pursued it whenever he could.  He'd sought out the best
teachers, and learned.  Though he could not play publicly, or share
his love of music with the world, surely he could share it with one
little boy who had the same dreams Nick had.
	Nick took a penny out of his pocket and handed it to Mark
solemnly.  "This penny, Mark is to dream on.  It'll make *your* dream
come true."
	Mark stared at the penny not understanding.
	"I'll teach you, Mark," Nick said simply.
	Mark looked at him, his hand suddenly clutching the penny
tightly.  "You hear it, too."
	Nick nodded, "I hear it, too."

	"You mean *you* taught him?" Natalie gasped sitting up in
surprise.
	Nick smiled in genuine amusement, then it faded away as he
stared into space at something only he could see.  "Yes.  I taught
him.  Everything I knew.  I learned from the best, Nat. I studied with
Beethoven, oh, I think it was 1810.  He was truly innovative, Nat.
Beethoven was doing incredible work with thematic integration and
harmonic polarization.  I know now it seems the way music ought to be,
but at the time...it was new and exciting.  Then I spent a year
studying with Chopin in 1833, and in 1895 I sought out Debussey as
well.  He was fascinating because he worked constantly to give the
clearest expression of his thoughts in the briefest space.  It was
absolutely brilliant.  Debussey didn't have a fixed tonality and it
gave his music a very dreamy--what they now call an impressionist
quality.  He was the greatest innovater of pianistic resources since
Liszt..."  Nick stopped at Natalie's slightly dazed expression.  He
grinned.  "Sorry.  I get carried away when I start talking about
music."
	"I hadn't noticed," Nat said dryly.
	Nick laughed.  "Anyway, I learned everything I could, and I
taught Mark.  He had this incredible gift inside him that was dying,
and all I did was let it out into the fresh air and give it a chance."
	Natalie shook her head in stunned amazement.  "You are always
surprising me, Nick.  You studied with some of the most famous and
interesting people in history.  You knew them, and you never even
mentioned it.  Why not?"
	"I don't know.  I suppose it's because my life has been so
long and there are so many memories, it all becomes overwhelming.  I
have learned to live in the now just to keep my balance.  Maybe that's
why.  And frankly, most of those memories aren't that pleasant, so I
try to not remember them.  Which is harder than it sounds because
everything I do reminds me of something or someone and I can easily
lose myself in a memory if I'm not careful."
	Natalie grinned.  "Yeah, I've noticed you have an ability to
kind of...um, how do I put this?  Zone out?"
	Nick laughed.  "I guess I do zone out, don't I?"
	"But you do put all the knowledge to good use, Nick.  Like
with Mark."  Natalie tilted her head and stared thoughtfully at Nick.
"Why *did* you decide to teach Mark?"
	Nick was silent for a moment, then he met Natalie's eyes.  "I
love music.  When I was a boy, I wanted to learn to play the flute,
but my father didn't want me to.  It wasn't my place.  My place was to
be a warrior--a knight.  He had no patience for such foolishness
as...music.  But I learned anyway.  I learned anyway I could--from
anyone I could.  When you feel it that strongly, you either find a
way, or wither inside and die."  He stared down at his hands for a
moment, then went on in a low voice.  "The irony of it all is that in
the end, it was music that led me to my fate.  On a windy cold day in
Wales, I heard music.  A harpist's music."
	"Gwyneth," Natalie said slowly beginning to see the pieces
falling into place.
	"Gwyneth," Nick agreed.  "And when all the dust settled, I was
in the Holy Land fighting a war I didn't believe in.  I lost my faith,
Nat.  I became bitter and cynical and angry, and the music inside
died."  Nick laughed mirthlessly.  "And when I was at the lowest ebb
of my life, I chose to become a vampire."  Nick looked at Natalie with
a bitter smile.  "Eventually, I reached a point, where the music came
back.  If you have enough time, you can recover from your mistakes.
Most of them, that is...," Nick shook his head.  "But living forever
actually had some advantages.  It gave me the opportunity to learn, to
become better, better than I had ever dreamed.  And then there were
all the advancements in knowledge.  Instruments and music changed
dramatically.  New instruments gave me new ways of expressing the
passion I felt inside, Natalie."
	Natalie reached out and took his hand.  Nick smiled and looked
at her.  "I can't tell you how consumed I was by the development of
instruments like the clavichord, harpsichord and then the piano.  The
depth of emotion you could wring out of a piano compared to a
harpsichord was ... intoxicating. Music always had soul, but the new
depths and heights that were achieved with the piano overwhelmed me.
	"I was immersed in the music.  It was so exciting and
wonderful.  And the piano captured my heart like nothing else ever
had.  I had to learn it, Nat.  I *had* to.  And if I could study with
a master, I did.  Anytime I could, anywhere I could.  I had time and
money, and I used it.  If there's anything worthwhile about being a
vampire, its that I've been able pursue my passions and perfect my
talents. Especially the piano--but also painting--they're so deeply
ingrained they are part of my soul.  No matter where I go, I can carry
them with me.  Because they're inside me.  Living, breathing--keeping
my alive--even when I feel dead.  I can hear the music, see it, feel
it with every fiber of my being."
	"And you found that same fire in Mark," Natalie said slowly.
	"Yes.  It was like looking at myself.  I knew how he felt.  So
I taught him.  How could I not?"
	Natalie smiled.  "You couldn't."  She put her hand on her chin
and stared at Nick.
	He wrinkled his brow at her look.  "What?"
	"Just think," Natalie mused.  "Mark is only one step removed
from some of the greatest musicians of all time.  All of that
information, knowledge and talent straight from the masters to Mark.
No wonder he's a world class pianist."
	"He's great, Nat, because he is talented and full of fire and
passion.  The information he got was just the frosting on his ability.
After all, it was filtered," Nick pointed out dryly, "through me."
	"HA! Some filter.  You, if you remember, have a photographic
memory.  You probably told him everything you learned verbatim."
	Nick was silent, and then a small smile slipped out.  "Yes, I
guess you're right, I did quote them word for word--well, sort of.  I
had to translate it."  Natalie laughed.  "Oh yeah, that would have
been something.  'Now, Mark, today's lesson will be taught in
French--18th century French--because I want to discuss techniques I
learned from Chopin.' "  Nick grinned, then laughed.  "Well, we didn't
exactly start with Chopin..."

End Part 3
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