Read Online Sweet Memories by Lavyrle Spencer - Free Book Online
Authors: Lavyrle Spencer
Tags: Romance, Contemporary
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A-note filled the vaulted space of the auditorium, and gradually, the room hummed with voices as the seats slowly filled. The footlights were still off, and from her position at first chair Theresa had a clear view of the aisles.
She was running her bow over the honey-colored chunk of resin when her hand stopped sawing, and her lips fell open in surprise. There, filing in, came her whole family, plus Patricia Gluek, and of course,
Brian Scanlon. They shuffled into the fourth row center and began removing jackets and gloves while Theresa’s palms went damp. She had played the violin since sixth grade and had stopped having stage fright years ago, but her stomach drew up now into an unexpected coil of apprehension. Amy waggled two fingers in a clandestine hello, and Theresa answered with a barely discernible waggle of her own. Then her eyes scanned the seat next to Amy and found Brian waggling two fingers back at her. Oh, Lord, did he think I waved at him? Twenty-five years old and waving like her giggling first graders did when they spotted their mommies and daddies in the audience.
But before she could become any further unnerved by the thought, the footlights came up, and the conductor tapped his baton on the edge of the music stand. She stiffened her spine and pulled away from the backrest of the chair, snapped her violin into place at the lift of the black-clad arms and hit the opening note of “Joy to the World.”
Midway through the song Theresa realized she had never played the violin so well in her life, not that she could remember. She attacked the powerful notes of “Joy to the World” with robust precision. She nursed the stunning dissonants of “The Christmas Song” with loving care until the tension eased from the chords with their familiar resolutions. As lead violinist, she performed a solo on the compelling “I Wonder As I Wander,” and the instrument seemed to come alive beneath her mocha-colored fingernails.
She began by playing for him. But she ended playing for herself, which is the true essence of the real musician. She forgot Brian sat in the audience and lost the inhibitions that claimed her whenever there was no instrument beneath her fingers or no children to direct.
From the darkened house, he watched her—nobody but her. The red hair and freckles that had been so distracting in their brilliance when he’d first met her took on an appropriateness lent by her fiery zeal as she dissolved into the music. Again, there were times when her eyelids drifted shut. Other times she smiled against the chin rest, and he was somehow certain she had no idea she was smiling. Her sleeves draped as she bowed the instrument, her wrist arched daintily as she occasionally plucked it, and the hem of her black skirt lifted and fell as she tapped her toe to the sprightlier songs.
The concert ended with a reprise of “Joy to the World,” and the final thunder of applause brought the orchestra members to their feet for a mass bow.
When the house lights came up, Theresa’s eyes scanned the line of familiar faces in row four, but returned to settle and stay on Brian, who had lifted his hands to praise her in the traditional way, and was wearing a smile as proud as any on the other faces. She braved a wide smile in return and hoped he knew it was not for the others but just for him. He stopped clapping and gave her the thumbs-up signal, and she felt a holiday glow such as she’d never known as she sat to tuck her instrument back into its case.
__________
THEY WERE WAITING in the hall when she came from the music room with her coat and mitts on, her case beneath an arm.
Everybody babbled at once, but Theresa finally had a chance to croon appreciatively, “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
“We wanted to surprise you. Besides, we thought it might make you nervous.”
“Well, it did! No, it didn’t! Oh, I don’t know what I’m saying, except it really made the concert special,
She was running her bow over the honey-colored chunk of resin when her hand stopped sawing, and her lips fell open in surprise. There, filing in, came her whole family, plus Patricia Gluek, and of course,
Brian Scanlon. They shuffled into the fourth row center and began removing jackets and gloves while Theresa’s palms went damp. She had played the violin since sixth grade and had stopped having stage fright years ago, but her stomach drew up now into an unexpected coil of apprehension. Amy waggled two fingers in a clandestine hello, and Theresa answered with a barely discernible waggle of her own. Then her eyes scanned the seat next to Amy and found Brian waggling two fingers back at her. Oh, Lord, did he think I waved at him? Twenty-five years old and waving like her giggling first graders did when they spotted their mommies and daddies in the audience.
But before she could become any further unnerved by the thought, the footlights came up, and the conductor tapped his baton on the edge of the music stand. She stiffened her spine and pulled away from the backrest of the chair, snapped her violin into place at the lift of the black-clad arms and hit the opening note of “Joy to the World.”
Midway through the song Theresa realized she had never played the violin so well in her life, not that she could remember. She attacked the powerful notes of “Joy to the World” with robust precision. She nursed the stunning dissonants of “The Christmas Song” with loving care until the tension eased from the chords with their familiar resolutions. As lead violinist, she performed a solo on the compelling “I Wonder As I Wander,” and the instrument seemed to come alive beneath her mocha-colored fingernails.
She began by playing for him. But she ended playing for herself, which is the true essence of the real musician. She forgot Brian sat in the audience and lost the inhibitions that claimed her whenever there was no instrument beneath her fingers or no children to direct.
From the darkened house, he watched her—nobody but her. The red hair and freckles that had been so distracting in their brilliance when he’d first met her took on an appropriateness lent by her fiery zeal as she dissolved into the music. Again, there were times when her eyelids drifted shut. Other times she smiled against the chin rest, and he was somehow certain she had no idea she was smiling. Her sleeves draped as she bowed the instrument, her wrist arched daintily as she occasionally plucked it, and the hem of her black skirt lifted and fell as she tapped her toe to the sprightlier songs.
The concert ended with a reprise of “Joy to the World,” and the final thunder of applause brought the orchestra members to their feet for a mass bow.
When the house lights came up, Theresa’s eyes scanned the line of familiar faces in row four, but returned to settle and stay on Brian, who had lifted his hands to praise her in the traditional way, and was wearing a smile as proud as any on the other faces. She braved a wide smile in return and hoped he knew it was not for the others but just for him. He stopped clapping and gave her the thumbs-up signal, and she felt a holiday glow such as she’d never known as she sat to tuck her instrument back into its case.
__________
THEY WERE WAITING in the hall when she came from the music room with her coat and mitts on, her case beneath an arm.
Everybody babbled at once, but Theresa finally had a chance to croon appreciatively, “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
“We wanted to surprise you. Besides, we thought it might make you nervous.”
“Well, it did! No, it didn’t! Oh, I don’t know what I’m saying, except it really made the concert special,
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