Redemption(35)

“You want to be on stage, don’t you?”

I shouldn’t be surprised he had been able to see my longing without me telling him, but I was. Matt never cared. He thought my desire for music was a waste of time. Not my teaching music, my wanting to make a career performing. In high school, he’d told me I couldn’t make a living with a fiddle, and no one in Wimberley was going to pay me to play. He wasn’t trying to be cruel. Matt was realistic, very pragmatic. It wasn’t that he didn’t want me to play, he wanted me to have a backup plan when my dream didn’t come to fruition. Matt had always been content to stay in Wimberley, but what he really meant was he was content to own a home there. The moment he enlisted in the Army, the idea of living in one place went out the window. His unit was active, and he was gone a lot. Although looking back on it, that had never bothered me. I loved the freedom it gave me to spend time in Austin, to go to school, to live life—on my terms.

“Yeah, I do. But it wasn’t in the cards for me.” I shrugged with a weak smile in place.

He looked down into his glass unsure of how to proceed.

“Dan. Sweetheart, it’s okay. I made that choice in high school. This isn’t a dream you just decide you want to have. It takes years of practice and learning and lessons. Hours and hours of preparation. When I decided to stay in Texas to go to college, I made a choice not to chase that dream. I love what I’m doing now—it’s just a variation of what I had originally thought it would be.”

The lights dimmed indicating intermission was ending. I set my glass on the table next to us and cupped his cheeks.

“If anything had been different, I wouldn’t be here with you. Thank you for tonight. It’s been perfect.”

He met me for a kiss and took my hand to see the second half of the performance.

Tonight had been a gift. It might not have meant much to anyone else, but to me, it was perfection. The standing ovation lasted several minutes, my hands tingled from clapping for so long, but being here, with Dan, was bliss.

We worked our way through the aisles and crowd and out to the hall. I was in front of Dan, but when I turned left to go toward the front, he tugged my hand and jerked his head in the opposite direction. The look on his face said he was up to something, and the gleam in his eye was an indication of just what it was. If he thought we were getting frisky in the Peace Center after Ya-sang Min, he was crazy.

But he didn’t relent. He wound his way past doors with signs for employees only after swimming against the stream of the crowd to reach the back of the stage.

“Dan, we can’t go back here. We’re going to get in trouble.”

He ignored my protests and continued like a man on a mission. He knew precisely where he was going and didn’t even look around. When he came to a stop, I almost bumped into him. The crowd backstage was as bad as that trying to exit the building, but Dan was a force to be reckoned with, and people moved out of his way. Stepping around to his side, still holding his hand, I looked up to him in question. I’d never seen a smile full of so much love directed at me. And then I followed his stare as he turned away from me.

The sea of people parted, and a circle opened up.

There sat Ya-sang Min with his cello and an empty seat with my violin.

“Care to dual?” The prodigy met me eye for eye and issued a challenge I couldn’t refuse.

My eyes were wide, but my spine was straight. My shoulders back. Even against Ya-sang Min, I knew I wouldn’t make a fool of myself. I might not win the challenge, but I’d give him a run for his money. With a simple nod to my opponent, I took the violin from the chair and sat to quickly tune it.

Ya-sang watched me intently, listening as I pulled the bow across the strings and adjusted the pegs. He smiled a knowing smile when he realized I wasn’t a novice. “You have perfect pitch.”

I raised my brow and made eye contact as I set the violin in my lap.

The moment he delved into his first impromptu riff, those mulling about around us stopped to see what was going on. He hadn’t gone easy on me and set the bar high. The sorrowful, soul-filled notes hung in the air when he rested his bow in his lap and stroked the scroll with his hand.

We had an audience, but it didn’t deter me, it fueled my fire. Never in my life would I have another opportunity like the one in front of me. With my chin in place, my fingers on the strings, I brought the bow to the steel and struck like fiery lightning crashing from the sky, my fingers flew, my bow raced, and my body arched with the tempo, feeling every staccato note.

When I stopped, my chest heaved from the exertion. He launched right into another bout, the back and forth continuing between the two of us. It was exhilarating. On his final pass, he tested me, wanting to see just how far I’d rise to meet the challenge. Instantly I recognized “The Impossible Duet” and joined in within a couple of measures and smiled at the face of the greatest cello player of my time. Together we wowed those in attendance of our spontaneous concert. I watched for his signal and whipped my bow off the strings at his nod.

He held the beautiful instrument out to his side, and someone quickly retrieved it. He stood, and I mirrored him, with my violin and bow to my side. And Ya-sang Min hugged me with a hearty laugh.

“Brilliant.”

“Thank you. I have no idea how this transpired, but thank you.”

“The pleasure was mine, truly.”