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No wonder there were no comments! I forgot to update the title when I updated the story last time.
I hope you all enjoyed this emotional and heart-warming journey as much as I enjoyed writing it to combine two of my passions: music and TUGs. It was hard to present the characters, make them dynamic, make the music appropriate, and make each of the TUG scenes be a metaphor for what was happening to Kristina throughout the story.
Sisterly Secrets (F/F) - Part 9
The warm, triumphant sounds of one of Mendelssohn’s String Quartets filled the room. A happy groan was heard far away in the corner. Night had fallen, and the blinds were closed. It was an appropriately peaceful tune, and the groan was one of contentment.
On the bed, face down, was a girl with her ankles, knees, and thighs bound. Rope ran from her ankles to the footboard. Her arms were stretched and roped to the upper corners of the bunk bed where the support posts meet the upper bunk’s headboard. An orange rubber ball, accompanied by a tan bandana, gagged the girl. As she turned, her bright blue kerchief became more apparent.
“How is it?” Kristina asked as she paused after practicing a section.
“Mmmmm,” Erin squirmed a little to express her satisfaction.
“Thanks. Our concert is the week after you get back from your conference.”
Kristina resumed practicing. Erin started crying because of how much happiness the fascinating and adventurous day had brought them. She might not be the lonely old spinster or even just the elder of the two spinsters. God had put an opportunity for love on their doorsteps, and even on the same day.
The young girl continued practicing the section, and she seemed unaware of her sister’s mixed emotions or just how pretty she looked in Erin’s eyes. The headband without the ponytail made Kristina look both more like a girl her own age and more approachable for others to talk to her. The down hair also made her seem more connected to her instrument and the emotions she was expressing. In short, she had the same friendly piety that their sister-in-law has.
“I’m sorry. Did I do something that upset you?” Kristina asked when she stopped.
“Nuh uh,” Erin smiled and struggled a little.
“OK. Want me to play the Chopin sonata? I know it’s your favorite.”
“Awwwww,” the captive squirmed.
With that, Kristina pulled up a file on her computer which consisted of just the piano part and no cello part. That was her part, and it was her favorite way to play work with an accompaniment if she had no accompaniment available. She began playing the piece to the delight of her big sister, one of the many heroic females in whom she found spiritual, mental, and musical inspiration. At the end, Kristina produced a new surprise after only a brief pause: her own piece of music.
Erin was confused at what was being played. It was unfamiliar and a series of short vignettes in a variety of tempos, tones, keys, and emotions. The first piece was whimsical but kind, almost cuddling them and struggling to say the words “I love you” in a direct way. The second growled in a statement of a theme that went through a series of variations that were happy, glum, joyous, triumphant, and even a bit cold. The third was the only direct one: a love song accompanied by a playful interlude before the love song returned. The next was a series of contrasting episodes in an almost religious tone with happiness emerging at the end of each one. Then came the finale, a scherzo of fun, rumbles, chords, high squeaks, and arpeggios (broken chords) that ascended and descended chromatically (one note at a time, including the black keys if you use a piano for as an example) throughout.
“Did you understand?” Kristina walked over and removed her sister’s gag.
“I did,” Erin responded, “Joy, you, Bridget, me, and TUGs.”
“Complete with the happiness, the spanking, and the tickling,” Kristina’s hand wandered.
“Am I ever in troubmph!” the gag went back into her mouth.
“Are you ever!” Kristina laughed, “I love you so much Erin.”
“Awww,” Erin received a kiss on her kerchief-covered head, just before her torture began.
What a day it had been.
Epilogue 1
You got a letterrrrrr,” Erin sings as she walks into the bedroom with the mail, “From Jersey.”
“Jersey?! Is it?!” Kristina stops playing her cello.
“From one Master Tommaso Randaccio? Yes, yes it is. Here you go.”
“Thank you!” the youngster hung her bow and took the envelope.
“Eager much?” the older sister asks the younger.
“Maybe,” Kristina pulled out both a letter and a photograph of the sender.
► Show Spoiler
Dear Kristina,
Thank you for the kind and considerate note. I never realized that the feeling was mutual, that we had both been smitten by the other at our siblings’ wedding. If I had known sooner, I’d have reached out to you. I’m glad it worked this way, because talking to you by mail is much sweeter than silly texting or video calls.
My own sister commented on the attention I paid to you at the wedding. Coming from my own family where there is musical talent abounding, I was taken aback by the emotional depth of the way you and the others played, but I was spellbound by yours. You read me well. Witnessing not one but now five solid, Christian marriages among my older siblings changed me in small ways to gradually appreciate the holiness of matrimony.
I come from a family of eight siblings, but I never met a person who loves their siblings like you do. When you played at the wedding, you were telling Bridget just how much you love her and were welcoming Roberto to be loved as a new brother. I am sure you are much more than string instruments, and I couldn’t get your radiant happiness out of my head for months afterwards. At the time, you were 16 and I 18, and we were too young for it. Now we can go as slowly as each of us needs and grow together, as long as we wish to continue things.
My parents say that this is OK by them as long as your father approves. By the time this letter reaches you, your sister Bridget will have my contact information. Ask her to pass it along; send a text first to make sure I have the time to talk. I would be happy to embark on this journey with you.
Your new friend,
Tommaso Randaccio
“ERIN!” Kristina started crying, “He feels the same way about me!”
“Oh, Kristina! You’re growing up!” Erin bounced up and down.
Epilogue 2
In the brightness of the moonlight, four couples can be seen scattered around the park. If you look more closely, you can see that each has a male and a female. One pair sits on the side of a fountain. Another sits under a tree. The third couple are on a bench. And the fourth stands in an open space looking up at the stars.
A closer look at the pair on the bench reveal Joy and Michael Sjaastad sitting together with her on his lap. They are softly kissing and whispering their love for one another in a marital, but not sexual, manner. It is the bliss of marriage.
A look at the fountain will make the earthy tones appear in contrast to the shiny water and bright white stone. It is hard to see Erin’s blonde hair because of the sage kerchief on her head, but she is accompanied by the young man mentioned in the text. The young man is some 5 years Erin’s junior, but she doesn’t care. They had been friends for many years, but she never considered him a potential suitor. Now Jonathan Henderson is the love of her life.
Under the tree, the blonde streak appears before the face. Bridget Sjaastad is being cuddled by her husband, Roberto. They sit together looking back and forth between the pair by the fountain and the ones under the stars.
The silhouette under the starlight reveals its bright colors before the faces become apparent since Kristina is dressed so loudly. She stares up at the stars and points out her favorite constellation with one hand while feeling her other hand sneakily fall into its first case of hand-holding. Then Kristina gently nudges. All attention is directed to the fountain.
“Erin, secrets only remain among sisters for so long, and both of yours know a secret.”
“Johnny, you have a secret?” Erin asks coyly.
“There’s only one thing I’ve hidden from you,” he takes her hand.
“Well,” Erin feels a brief excitement in her, “I’m ready.”
“Erin Sjaastad,” he gets on his knees, “I love you, and you love me. Will you marry me?”
“Johnny,” she sees the ring, “Yes, I will marry you.”
“Tommy, someday, after I’ve graduated,” Kristina whispers, “That will be you and me.”
THE END