Epilogue
CALLUM CREPT into the auditorium, flipped on the house lights, and forced himself to pause and pull in a breath.
This was it. The last concert of his second year in Peterson.
He was exhausted, of course, and couldn’t wait for a break.
But he was filled with excitement too. His mind already buzzed with plans for next year.
A slightly more immediate plan too.
He paused at the back of the hall as he always did when entering.
At the end of his first year, by a unanimous vote from the school board, the auditorium had officially been named the Iris Wallingford Memorial Auditorium.
A large photo of her senior portrait hung on the wall, along with an honorary degree from the Whitehall Conservatory and a framed copy of her unfinished composition.
As always, seeing this tribute was bittersweet.
Iris’s potential had never been realized, but at least through his and Blair’s efforts, she’d received long-overdue justice.
Flora had confessed to the murders of both Iris and her parents and received consecutive life terms. Given her age, Iris’s killer wouldn’t spend as long in prison as she deserved to, but at least she hadn’t gotten away with it entirely.
As for Vic Nelson, he’d left Peterson, and no one in town had heard from him since the December concert.
Rumor had it he now lived with his daughter somewhere on the West Coast. His publishers, when informed of his plagiarism, had ceased production of all the works that could be traced back to Iris.
Only his original compositions remained in print—not bad in their own right but nowhere near as brilliant as the stolen ones.
As was his custom, Callum ran a fingertip along the frame of Iris’s piece, whispered a prayer, and then proceeded toward the stage, where, heart pounding, he took the cover off the piano. He knew Blair would be here soon to warm up. In fact, he was counting on it.
He tossed the cover backstage, then set up the piano’s music rack and propped a piece of freshly printed sheet music on it.
It was a brand-new piece, one he’d just composed.
Not his best work—he’d saved that for a couple of pieces he was writing for the choir, as well as three new commissions—but it would get the point across.
In this rare instance, the words were far more important than the music.
A door creaked open, and Blair walked in from the wings, blue binder in hand.
“Hi.” She greeted him with a warm, sunny smile.
The sight of her made his heart relax. “Hello. You’re stunning, as always.”
“Thanks. So are you.” She kissed his cheek, her eyes sparkling in the stage lights, then turned toward the piano and stopped. “What’s this?”
He grinned. “Just a little something I wrote. Not for the concert, of course. Just for fun.”
Her brows creased. “And you’re giving it to me now?”
“Why not?” He feigned a casual shrug. “Figured I’d give you something to warm up with.”
She approached the piano and sat down. “I usually just do scales, but okay.” Her frown deepened as she reached for the printed sheets and studied them. “‘Marry Me?’” She glanced up. “Is this an arrangement of that Bruno Mars song from a while back?”
Callum paused. “I . . . didn’t think of that. But no. It has nothing to do with Bruno Mars.”
“Okay, then you’ll probably want to come up with a new title to avoid confusion.”
“Sure. Yeah. Of course.” Wow. This was not going the way he’d planned.
Finally she replaced the music on the rack and started playing. “Huh,” she said over the rippling piano introduction. “Is this for a commission? It doesn’t have your usual harmonic complexity.”
“That’s because the music isn’t the most important part.” Okay. Time for plan B. He hadn’t expected to need to spell it out for her quite this specifically, but whatever. He could be flexible.
He lowered himself to one knee next to her, but still she focused on the music.
“Blair.”
“Yeah?” She turned the page.
“Blair, I need . . .”
“What?” She stopped playing and finally looked at him . . . then froze. Her mouth was open, her hands still on the keys.
“The title is all that matters in this one. Because it’s not just a title. It’s a question.” He pulled in a breath. “Marry me, Blair. Please?”
Her mouth opened further. “Oh, you’re . . . this is . . .”
He fished the ring out of the pocket of his tux jacket and popped open the box. “For real? Yes. It is.”
She stared for what seemed like forever, then erupted in a joyous shriek and launched herself from the piano bench into his arms. “Yes. Yes, yes, of course, Callum, yes.”
Swallowing against a sudden lump in his throat, he smothered her lips in a kiss, then slid the ring onto her finger. “Hope this won’t get in the way while you’re playing.”
“I don’t care if it does.” She held her left hand out, turning it this way and that. “It’s gorgeous.”
“The new lights don’t hurt anything.” He’d pulled all the strings he had—and a couple he didn’t—but finally the district had agreed to replace the noisy, outdated auditorium lights.
These were much quieter, which had been his main goal, but they had the added benefit of splitting the oval-shaped diamond into brilliant shards of red, green, and blue.
“They don’t.” She gazed at him and wrapped her arms around his neck again. “What made you do this now? Tonight?”
“Well, I thought about doing it after the concert—not in public, of course, just with the two of us—but I couldn’t wait.
” He leaned his forehead against hers. “Frankly, I wouldn’t have been able to focus on the concert.
But I just realized we both might not be able to focus now.
” Blair smiled. “I think we’ll be fine. We’re professionals, after all.
” She pressed a kiss against his lips, then pulled back. “Wow. We’re getting married.”
“We are.”
He still could barely believe it. It wasn’t the first time he’d given a woman a diamond. And it wasn’t the first time Blair had received one. He’d once planned to spend the rest of his life with Rayne, and Blair had made the same plan with Derek.
But God had had a different plan. And through all the brokenness and pain of Rayne’s death and Derek’s betrayal, God had been working quietly backstage, weaving all the melodies and harmonies of their lives together to create the masterpiece of here and now.
And Callum would spend the rest of his life thanking him for it.