A Season of Eden

by Jennifer Laurens

  When he called Concert Choir up for our run through, I tried to stay hidden. I wasn’t anxious for him to see me. I just wanted to watch him. I stood on the back row with the altos, just like I did in class. The moment our line filed in and stopped, I felt him looking at me.

  His gaze captured mine for a long, sweaty moment while the other choir members filled in the lower risers.

  I wondered if he was waiting for me to smile or in some way acknowledge him. I didn’t do anything but meet his gaze levelly.

  He finally looked over the rest of the choir and lifted his arms, ready to begin. For the first time, I noticed the pianist, an older petite woman with dark hair, grey streams woven into it. She had Mr. Christian’s firm chin and straight nose. A small pair of glasses sat propped on the tip of her nose. Her rounded cheekbones perched high on her lightly painted face in a glamorous smile.

  His mother.

  We began our aria with gusto. We’d been instructed to keep our eyes on our conductor so I did, watching James’

  face light and change like a child’s on Christmas morning.

  I felt myself smiling as I sung, something I thought looked ridiculous, but now, with the excitement of an audience and the thrill of performing, couldn’t stop if I had to.

  Our peers applauded our first song. I felt good about it, hearing the harmonic voices fill in around me. James stood at the music stand with both hands braced. The muscles in his shoulders bunched.

  “Pretty good, guys,” he said. “Remember, this is a classical piece. We aren’t working on the railroad all the live-long day, singing because we have to.” Everyone laughed. “And smile. I look up and I see these morbid faces.

  We’re having fun tonight, okay? Tonight, everything is going to change.”

  “Why?” somebody asked. A crackle of comments followed. Mr. Christian waited until they died down.

  “Because it’s my first concert, that’s why. And you’re all going to do great.” He sent his smile to everyone as if he was celebrating with a toss of confetti. His wandering gaze finally rested on me and held. My heart fluttered.

  “For those of you that weren’t here at six like you were supposed to be,” he sent his gaze generally, “my mother is our accompanist for the night.” He gestured to her with an extended hand and she briefly stood, smiling.

  “Hi, Mom!” somebody shouted. She nodded back.

  “That’s Mrs. Christian to you, buddy,” Mr. Christian shot with a grin.

  For a moment, I envied him, having a mother who would do something like this for him. Obviously, she had taken the time to not only learn, but master each choir’s songs to be able to just walk in and sit down and play perfectly.

  We sang our last song and he told us we sounded much better, then we all filed off stage and another group filed on.

  During the performance, I sat with Josh and his friends in the music room, across the hall from the auditorium. The doors were left open so we could easily hear the concert in progress. Different choir groups came and went. I knew I wouldn’t see Mr. Christian through the night; he had to be on stage. But we watched the show via a black and white monitor.

  “Matt’s so mad.” Josh sat next to me with a cup of Swiss Miss steaming in his palms. “You want?”

  I shook my head. “I said I was sorry.”

  “You don’t blast a guy and say you’re sorry.”

  “I wouldn’t walk away, Josh, without saying something.

  We’re friends.”

  “Not anymore,” he sipped.

  I stared at him. A couple of giggling freshman bumped into him to get his attention.

  “Hey!” He steadied his hot chocolate and glared at them.

  “Easy, they’re fans.”

  He tried not to hide a pleased look behind another sip.

  “Seriously. You’ve really pissed him off.”

  “I didn’t mean to, I just thought it was the best thing for us both.”

  “You left him hanging, you know, for the rest of the year.”

  Matt’s real reason for his bruised ego was so superficial. I sighed. “We’re not each other’s accessories. I’m sorry if he won’t have a date for prom, but, cry me a river, he could get any girl to go with him.”

  “Who will you go with?”

  “I probably won’t go.” Nothing about prom sounded even remotely alluring to me now. Unless, of course, I was there with Mr. Christian. We could chaperone. I started laughing and Josh sat back, confusion on his face.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “I’m sure Matt wouldn’t think it’s funny.”

  Mr. Christian and I at prom together? I doubted Matt would get a laugh out of that. “It wasn’t about him. Josh, none of this is about Matt. You guys are so self-absorbed it’s nauseating.” I stood, frustrated. We were on next and I wanted to cool off before I stood up under the hot lights.

  I left him sipping his hot chocolate and walked the cold, nearly-empty hall just outside the auditorium alone.

  “Concert Choir!” somebody called for us and soon, red dresses and black suits congregated near the doors as Girls Choir in their blue dresses poured out of the auditorium like a stream of water.

  My nerves jittered, even though I had no one there to watch me sing. I wanted us to do great for Mr. Christian.

  This was his night. A lot of the parents held his future as music director in the palms of their hands.

  “Smile, guys,” I whispered to everyone around me.

  Most looked at me with awe that I had addressed them.

  “Mr. Christian’s depending on us.”

  “Yeah,” another, less-popular girl stole the opportunity to give her two cents worth. “Or the ax will fall.”

  I didn’t like that image one bit and raised my brow at her. “There is no ax. He’s a great conductor and nothing’s going to screw that up. Just sing your best and smile.”

  “And look at him,” another girl piped.

  That would be the easy part.

  The concert ended with the Renaissance choir. I snuck into the back of the auditorium, like most of the other students, and was smashed against the back wall for the final song and standing ovation Mr. Christian received.

  When Leesa Weitz brought out a dozen red roses and laid them in Mr. Christian’s arms, I flushed with jealousy. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of giving him something.

  He smiled and gave her a hug.

  I clapped along with the audience. How stupid. I should have been the one he hugged and appreciated for the thoughtful gesture. But then I hadn’t been thoughtful, I’d been just as self-absorbed as I’d accused Josh and Matt of being.

  I nearly fell into another slimy bout of self-centeredness by gathering my purse and leaving without giving Mr. Christian my congratulations but, I stopped. He’d be alone at some point tonight. At some point, every last student and parent would be gone.

  I straightened the music room. The place had become a shamble of discarded Styrofoam cups and napkins and paper airplanes during the concert.

  “Want me to help?” I heard Leesa’s voice and turned.

  She stood in the door, the ruby dress fitting her body like a legwarmer on an oak tree.

  “That’s okay, I’ve got it.” I wondered if she felt like I did about Mr. Christian and that was why she was hanging around. “That was cool, the roses.”

  “It’s custom.”

  “Yeah. A nice one.”

  She went to a chair, retrieved a ratty grey coat and put it over her arm. “Sure you don’t want me to help?”

  “That’s okay. I’m almost done.”

  After a pause, she left. I was alone in the music room and sat at the piano, my fingers dusting the keys without making a sound. Another half hour dragged by.

  Finally, I heard the melodic timbre of Mr. Christian’s voice and the soft pitch of a woman’s. I’d completely forgotten his mother. He’d probably driven with her.

  Embarrassed, I quic
kly gathered my bag to make a dash out but the two of them came through the door. Mr. Christian stopped when he saw me. The roses in his right hand lowered an inch. His mother only stopped when she saw us both standing like statues, staring at each other.

  “Eden.”

  “Hey.”

  “Mom, this is Eden. She’s one of my students.”

  Mrs. Christian smiled and came toward me, her delicate hand covered with jewels outstretched. “Yes, I recognize the dress. Concert choir?”

  I met her in the middle of the room. “Yes. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Christian.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You stayed after.” James started toward us.

  “I just cleaned up a little.” I took a deep breath, admiring him up close for the first time in thirty-two hours. Just looking into his eyes filled that ache I had inside with warmth. “And I wanted to congratulate you. The concert went really well, don’t you think?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, it did. Everybody was great.”

  I noticed his mother inching backwards toward the door. She laid a hand on his arm. “I’ll wait in the car, James.

  Eden, a pleasure my dear.”

  “You too,” I said. I couldn’t believe she was being nice enough to leave us alone. I wanted to jump up and down. I clasped my bag tight instead. “She’s so talented, coming in and playing like that. Wow.”

  He nodded. His face looked relaxed for the first time that night. He let out a sigh and pushed a hand through his hair. “So, you really think it went well?”

  “It went great. I heard all the numbers on the monitor, and I stood in the back for Renaissance. Everybody was great. Seriously.”

  “Maybe I can stop sweating now.” He laughed. I wanted to roll around in the sound of it. The image brought a smile to my lips. He looked at my mouth and his laugh slowly filtered away. He glanced around. “So, where are your parents?”

  “Oh, they didn’t come.”

  His brows shot up. “Why not? They out of town?”

  “They don’t come to stuff like this.”

  “They don’t like the arts?”

  I shifted feet and looked down at my bag. “They don’t know I’m in the group.”

  “Why not?” I liked that he took a step and it brought him closer to me. “You sang tonight, and very well. Why wouldn’t you want to share that?”

  I shrugged. I didn’t want to ruin the night or the moment talking about Stacey and Dad. “Sorry, I didn’t think to get you something. I can’t believe I didn’t think about it.

  Leesa is into the drama thing and knows the etiquette—”

  “Forget it.” He looked at the roses in his hand. Then he looked around the room. “Thanks for cleaning up. That’s an even more appreciated gesture, believe me.”

  “Good. I did something then.”

  “You did great tonight,” his voice was soft. “And that dress.” His gaze traveled down my body and back to my face. “You probably drove the guys crazy tonight.”

  “Really?”

  He tilted his head at me. “Don’t you have a boyfriend?”

  I shook my head, fingering my bag. “That surprises me,” he said.

  “Because I seem like a girl that would have a guy around?” I fished.

  “No.” He started toward the light switch and I followed. “In my experience, the beautiful girls are always taken.”

  Beautiful? The word startled, surprised and pleased me.

  He flicked off one of the overhead lights, leaving us in near darkness that stretched shadows across half of his face. “High school guys don’t know anything.”

  Then he turned off the last light and the only light was what shined in from the hall out the open door. He stood holding the door open, waiting for me to exit and I did.

  I watched him juggle the roses while he locked up the room.

  Then he gestured to the parking lot. “I’ll walk you to your car,” he said.

  “That would be nice, but I don’t have a car here. I walked.”

  His brows shot up. “This time of night?”

  “It was five-forty-five when I walked over.” I laughed.

  Inside I was pleased to see concern for me on his face. “I just live down on Paseo del Mar.”

  He nodded. “One of those houses?”

  “One of those.”

  Our feet echoed in the empty hall. We didn’t speak, but I wasn’t uncomfortable, like I had been in the past with Matt or anybody else when there wasn’t any talk. I felt safe being with him, in thought and without words.

  I saw a lone white Jaguar parked in the lot. His mother sat inside. We headed that direction. “Let me give you a ride home, Eden.”

  “It’s not far, and I like to walk.”

  “I’d feel better if I drove you. It’s ten-thirty.”

  He stopped near the white Jaguar. I glanced over.

  Through the window of the car, his mother smiled up at me.

  “You really don’t have to.”

  “I insist.”

  “Okay.”

  Mr. Christian opened the back door of the car for me and, after I was seated, he closed it, taking a moment to look at me through the glass. Inside, the leather seats smelled of heavy perfume. I figured the Jaguar belonged to his mother and the scent nearly confirmed it. Classical music played from the CD player.

  “You don’t have a car, dear?” Mrs. Christian asked over her shoulder.

  “I just live around the corner. I usually walk.”

  She nodded, just as Mr. Christian got in the car. “It’s good exercise.”

  “I think so,” I said.

  He started the car and glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “Eden lives a few streets away. I offered to give her a ride home.”

  “Yes, she told me.”

  We drove out of the empty parking lot and onto the street. “You play so beautifully, Mrs. Christian. I still can’t believe you played a concert without practicing with us.”

  “Oh, I practiced, believe me dear.”

  “Will you be playing for all of the concerts?”

  “Shhh.” James’s eyes smiled at mine in the rearview mirror. “I haven’t asked her that yet.”

  His mother’s soft and fluid laugh filled the car, just as warm and inviting as Mr. Christian’s. The kind way she looked at him, her face lit with a glow that made me envious. I knew then and there that she would play for him.

  He pulled onto Paseo del Mar.

  “Turn left,” I told him and leaned forward. He glanced at me. “It’s there.” I pointed. For the first time, I was embarrassed about my house, palatial as it was. So overboard. I wondered what they were thinking.

  He drove onto the stone driveway. “Will the gate open?” he asked.

  “I’ll get out here, it’s okay.” I opened the door. Before I knew it, Mr. Christian was out of his door and holding mine open. The sea breeze tickled the curls around his face.

  “Thanks,” I said. Then I leaned around him to say goodbye to his mother. When I did, I reached to steady myself. His body was in the way. I had intended to reach for the door, but my hand rested instead on his bicep. Our eyes met. I swallowed a nervous lump, but I left my hand there.

  “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Christian.”

  “And you.”

  I stood erect. My hand fell to my side. That intensity was back on his face, no smile, nothing but sharp heat. I could have withered into the stone driveway.

  He shut the door. The only sound was the soft idling of the car. His gaze left mine to skim a look at the house.

  “Want me to walk you to the door?”

  I shook my head, even though I wanted that very much.

  But at the same time, I wanted to get inside, away from this picture of prosperity with me standing in front of the house like the cover of Lifestyles of the Rich.

  I turned and pressed the buttons of the security code and the gates slowly opened.

  “I have a remote,” I said. “But I forget to
use it.”

  He nodded and took another sweeping look of the property. Then he shoved his hands in his pockets.

  “Goodnight, Eden.”