Chapter Nine #2
She turned and walked to the studio. The door was closed. When she opened it, the studio was in darkness. No Kirk.
So much for finding out who Sam’s father was.
As she started walking back to her house, she heard his motorcycle. She changed directions and went to the back door. A moment later Kirk pulled up. He took off his helmet and looked at her.
“Need something?”
“Sam Tanner’s phone number. There’s a rehearsal today and I don’t want him to miss it.”
“Sure, Sam’s a third, I think. Anyway, his dad is Sam, too. I’ve got his number, come on in.”
He got off the motorcycle and hung the helmet from the handlebars.
“You were out early,” she commented.
“I had breakfast with Granddad,” he said as he held the back door open for her.
“How is he?”
“Doing well. And talking about that song you two are doing. He said to ask you to come out tomorrow or the next day if you can.”
He pulled open a drawer and rummaged around the papers, pulling out a list of names and numbers.
“Here, Sam senior’s the fourth one down.”
“What’s this list?” she asked, taking the page and scanning all the names.
“Different skills guys have in construction so I know who to call when we have a barn raising like we did for Ben and Carrie. Or some other project. Sam’s specialty is electrical. You can use my phone.”
He pointed to the phone on the wall.
Once she’d spoken to Sam’s mother and told her about the rehearsal she hung up and turned to Kirk.
“My dad called this morning. He practically told me to disregard anything they’ve said in the past and go for what I want. I couldn’t believe it.”
He leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head a little to study her.
“Why? He’s an adult, and seems to realize you are one as well.”
“He asked about my visit.”
“And?”
“So I told him and he said I sounded happy. He’s right. I’m happy here.”
“You sound almost surprised.”
“I guess I am.”
“Need a ride to the rehearsal?” he asked.
She considered the offer. One time he tells her to go home, then he takes her to dinner. Now he’s offering to take her to the rehearsal. She was confused by the way he acted.
She wasn’t confused about wanting to spend as much time with him as she could.
“I’d like that.”
“When is it?”
“At two at the high school.”
“I’ll pick you up about ten minutes before that. It’s a short drive.”
“It’s a short drive anywhere in Smoky Hollow. I could probably walk.”
“No need to carry your fiddle all that way.”
She should leave. She had nothing else to say, but didn’t want to walk away. Finally as the silence stretched out, she smiled and turned to leave.
Kirk watched her go. Once the screen door banged shut behind her he let out his breath. Ever since Angelica Cannon had shown up in Smoky Hollow, his life had been topsy-turvy and didn’t seem about to settle down.
Once the festival was over, she’ go back where she belonged.
Every time he repeated it, he tried to convince himself that maybe she’d stay. Yet what did he have to offer? His own mother hadn’t stayed. Neither he nor his father had meant enough to her.
Much as he wished Angelica would stay, it’d be a waste of her talent, and the prospects for the future. He wasn’t going to stand in her way.
Deliberately refusing to look out the window to watch her walk across the lawn, he turned instead to head to the studio. He had several hours before he saw her again. Time enough to shore up defenses.
There were more people than Angelica expected when she reached the school yard where the rehearsal would be held. Her violin was in her case. She brought the one Sam was using in another case, and sheet music for both of them in her tote.
Gina spotted her as soon as Kirk’s truck pulled in and hurried over.
“You staying?” she asked Kirk.
“No. How long?”
“Two-three hours. We’ll call you.”
With that her attention shifted to Angelica.
“Glad you could make it. Come and meet the others.”
By the time a modicum of order was established, Angelica had met at least two dozen people.
Some names she knew, some she’d never remember.
Gina had all the groups lined up together, pointing to spots on the ground where she’d put papers with giant numbers.
For the single players, she had them gather in one group.
Just as Angelica looked for Sam, a pickup arrived and the little boy jumped out and ran to her.
He looked around.
“There’re a lot of people.”
His eyes were wide as he took in the crowd.
“And every one will be pleased to hear you play,” she assured him, handing him his fiddle. “Just pay attention to the music and the fiddle and pretend it’s just you and me.”
He looked dubious but nodded.
“Kay,” he said.
Gina called for quiet and then read out the roster.
“Everyone just sit where you are until time to do your bit,” she concluded.
Angelica sat on the grass, bemused to think of how they rehearsed for the philharmonic. She almost laughed thinking of how the others would be astonished to just sit on the grass until it was time to perform.
One by one the groups played. She loved the jugs and washboard band. The bluegrass group with banjos, drums and fiddles had her keeping time to the lively music. As the afternoon rolled on, she noticed how everyone joined in the spirit of things, clapping along, laughing, cheering.
At last it was the turn of the individuals.
“This is not the order we’ll do for the actual performance,” Gina said, coming to stand near their group. “I plan to intersperse individuals between the groups. But for today I just want a feeling of how everything sounds. Bob, you and your harmonica are first up.”
The haunting melody of “Shenandoah” soon filled the field. At the conclusion everyone cheered.
“Okay, Sam Tanner—you’re on,” Gina said with a smile.
He rose, took the fiddle from the case and the music. Shyly looking around, he looked at Angelica for support.
She smiled encouragingly.
“You can do it, Sam. Make me proud.”
The little boy set his music, placed the fiddle beneath his chin and began the song he’d practiced all summer. Soon people were clapping, smiling, calling encouragement. He finished to a huge ovation and beamed his pride at Angelica.
“I knew you could to it, Sam. You’ll be a smash at the festival.”
She gave him a quick hug.
“You’re up next, Angelica.”
Suddenly a wave a stage fright threatened to choke her. She stood, feeling as awkward and nervous as at her audition for the philharmonic.
“You can do it, Miss Cannon,” Sam whispered.
She smiled at him. He was right, she could.
“I thought I’d do two, if that’s okay,” she said to Gina.
At her nod, Angelica began one of her solo pieces from the last symphony. The haunting music filled the area and she glanced around, trying to gauge the reaction of the rest of the performers. Most were smiling. Odd how she could see everyone. When the song ended, applause was heartfelt.
Putting the violin in place a second time, she began Orange Blossom Special.
It was fast and furious and she’d have liked more practice but as she played the rest of the performers began clapping, whistling and calling encouragement.
She relaxed and began to enjoy herself. Letting her gaze sweep the crowd she realized she was part of a gathering of people who shared the same love of music and made that love known.
Halfway through someone yelled out, “Faster!”
She looked around, not sure who it was, but she’d give it her best. Increasing the tempo she met a roar of approval from everyone. Faster and faster she played the now familiar song until she reached the end.
The applause was amazing. She grinned and held her violin up like a trophy. Those sitting stood, the clapping went on and on and the calls for do it again began to swell.
Gina came to give her a hug.
“Always a crowd pleaser. Can you do it again?”
“Sure.”
It was more fun than anything she’d ever done with the violin. She played the song again and the crowd showed its delight. She’d never felt the give and take in a performance like she did today. It was heady beyond belief.
She sat down after that, even though several people asked for something else.
“Okay, let’s not overwhelm our guest,” Gina said with a broad smile. “She’ll play at the festival. Mary Margaret, you’re up next.”
“Don’t know if I want to follow her,” the librarian said with a smile for Angelica.
She had a guitar and soon began to sing a sad ballad of lost love.
Sam scooted over close to Angelica.
“Thank you for helping me,” he whispered.
She reached out and gave him a hug.
It’s my pleasure and delight.”
After everyone had played, Gina declared the rehearsal a success and scheduled one for the day before the event, when they’d play in order of the festival.
Rachel Tanner appeared for Sam. When she heard Angelica would have to call Kirk for a ride, she insisted on taking her home.
“Mom, I did good. And everyone clapped,” Sam said, jumping excitedly.
“He did amazing. We all loved it,” Angelica said when she was in the truck, the little boy between her and his mom, both violin cases in her lap.
“Webb Francis said he has some aptitude for it. Thank you for letting him practice even with Webb Francis gone,” Rachel Tanner said. “We sure do appreciate it.”
“He’ll go far if he wants,” Angelica said.
Was this how her professors felt when she achieved some honor? When they knew they’d been instrumental in helping her along such a demanding career?
She was as happy for Sam as she was for her own performance.
“Miss Cannon played Orange Blossom Special and then she played it really fast.”
“I love that song. That’s your piece for the festival?” Rachel asked.
“Yes, one of them. And one from a classical selection.”
“You’ll be a big hit with that one. I’ll love to hear one of the songs you play in New York,” she said.
Angelica was pleased with the way the day had gone. Very different from the rehearsals for the orchestra.
Once dropped off at the house, she went in and put the violins away, then looked over at Kirk’s house.
She was too excited not to share. A minute later she was peeping into the open door of the studio.
He was working on the sculpture and she paused a moment to watch him before he knew she was there.
She felt a yearning for things that couldn’t be. How wonderful to rush to share her day with him. To learn what he’d done. To watch as he made beauty from chunks of wood. To have him sweep her up in a hug and kiss.
She could only see a partial side view of his face, but the concentration was evident.
He put down the chisel and took some sandpaper, rubbing it gently along the line he’d just carved.
His hands were steady and skilled. She could watch him for hours.
But the bubbling excitement from the day couldn’t be contained.
“Kirk,” she said, stepping inside.
He looked up.
“Back already? How did it go? How did you get home?”
“Sam’s mother gave me a lift. It was wonderful. I loved hearing all the music, watching everyone playing. It was amazing.”
She came to the table and looked at the art work. She could see the woman in the lone figure, see the trees both welcoming and a bit foreboding. How did he manage that?
“This is wonderful. I can really see the shape now,” she said reaching out to touch lightly.
His work called for touch.
“It’s coming along. Tell me about the practice.”
She beamed at him.
“Totally unlike any rehearsal I’ve been to.
It was such fun. The songs were different from what I’m used to it was like magic.
I couldn’t have imagined it before. Now I wonder if I can go back to the philharmonic.
In comparison, it doesn’t come close. We sat on the grass and everyone encouraged everyone else.
It was wild and a bit uncontrolled, but loads of fun. ”
“Music is music, different tastes for different folks,” he said. “Think of all the pleasure you give to those who attend the symphony.”
“I guess. But it’s hard slogging through hours of practice every day. It’s more of a job than a love. Today was about loving to share music.”
“You’ve been practicing since you’ve been here. What’s different from back in New York?”
“It’s just different.”
She picked up a chisel and looked at it, placing it gently back on the table.
“Here it’s pure fun. Trying new songs, mastering intricate melodies. I played Orange Blossom Special and everyone was smiling and laughing, clapping. Urging me on. I felt like everyone there was sending vibes to encourage me. That is not something I get at practice in New York.”
He shrugged, watching her with that intensity she now expected.
“Sam was wonderful,” she continued. “He started out a bit shy and nervous, but soon was fully into the song and everyone was as encouraging for him as for everyone else. It didn’t matter he’s only eight or this was his first try.”
She swept her arms wide.
“This was the best day!”
Her hands dropped to her sides.
“And you made it possible,” she said smiling broadly at him.
“I didn’t do anything,” he said.
“You believed in me and my right to make my own decisions. That’s special. You’re coming to the festival, right?”
He hesitated for a moment and Angelica remembered his hearing loss. Maybe it wasn’t as much fun if the music couldn’t be heard in full range. But she really wanted him to hear her play. If he sat near the front, she’d play right to him.
“Sure, I’ll be there.”
Kirk watched as she continued to talk about her amazing day. His heart ached with desire to pull her into his arms, to kiss her in celebration. Hear every detail. She was so happy. He wanted to always remember her just like this. Completely content and happy in the day.
In the months and years ahead, he’d always pull out this memory when thinking of Angelica. Years wouldn’t dim the happiness. Time wouldn’t tarnish this perfect moment. He imprinted it forever on his mind.
She stopped talking and cocked her head to the left.
“Are you listening to me?”
He nodded, wishing she’d stay forever, knowing she couldn’t. Her future did not lie in Smoky Hollow.