Ms. Miller and the Midas Man

by Mary Kay McComas

  “Did he know...about me?” She turned her left hand over on the table. “About the operation?”

  “I don’t know. I lost track of him years ago. And that’s sad. Something I regret, because I know he would have been very proud of you. As proud as I am.”

  Am? Still?

  Gus shook her head and sailed her spoon back and forth in her soup. “I would have let him down too.”

  “I don’t see how,” she said, spooning more soup into her mouth, then picking up her sandwich. “You were already playing the violin better than he could when he left. And I know for a fact that it pleased him very much.”

  Once again, they were talking around the subject of her failure. Life before and life since but not about the actual failure.

  “Mother,” she said, leaving the spoon in the bowl to fist both hands on the table in front of her. “I failed. I blew it. All your work. All the scholarships you got me, the tryouts and the teachers, all the running around, the move to New York, the time, the money, your hopes and dreams...I wasted all of it. I let you down. I failed you.” She blinked back tears. As painful as it was to say, it was also a relief to have it out in the open, to have it said. “I’m sorry for that. For disappointing you. I really am.”

  Wanda set her sandwich aside as she shook her head in confusion and denial.

  “Never,” she said, emphatically. “Not once in all your life have you ever been a disappointment to me, young lady. If anything, you’ve been an inspiration.” Now it was Gus’s turn to look confused. “Sweetheart, I didn’t get you those scholarships, you earned them. The most I ever did for you was to put you in opportunity’s path. You did the rest. You’re the one who practiced for hours on end until the music was perfect. You’re the one who impressed the teachers and the conductors. Not me. You were the one who played that violin so beautifully, and whose heart was broken whenever things went wrong. Not me. All I could do was stand by helplessly and watch.”

  “Helplessly?” There was that word again. She knew what it was to feel helpless when someone she loved was hurting. Carrie Mutrux knew about it too. So did Scotty.

  Wanda picked up her soup spoon again. “There’s nothing worse, believe me, than feeling and knowing you’re helpless to help someone you love,” she said, matter of fact. “I’d watch your dream come tumbling down and feel so miserable for you. But it was always much harder on you, because you were always so hard on yourself.” Then her face brightened. “Then suddenly one day you’d say, ‘Mother, I’ve been thinking,’ and you’d be off on another dream. Your resilience has always astounded me. I’ve never known anyone as strong or as determined as you. Even this last time, after the surgery,” she said, glancing over at Gus with watery eyes. “Afterward, when I knew you’d never play the same way and you kept practicing...I thought it was going to kill me, watching you. Working so hard. Your hopes so high... She blinked the tears away. “And now look at you. A whole new life. You seem happier and more content than I’ve ever seen you before. I...I’m so proud of you.”

  Gus’s gaze slowly lowered to the table and then to the food in front of her. In her mind, newfound puzzle pieces were falling into place, falling from the sky to fit neatly into the picture of a mother simply loving her child.

  “You never felt cheated?” she asked mildly. “Of your time? All the sacrifices you made?”

  “Sure I did,” she said. “Moving to New York was damned inconvenient. And I hated having you away at school all those years. And I had to learn all about being a professional violinist—the right way to go, who to see, what to do—which I don’t mind telling you I had no interest in at all. And at concerts and recitals, listening to fifty other young violinists when I only came to hear you—that was a damned drag.” She took a mouthful of soup and swallowed. “But when you have children you do these things. For them. Because you love them. And you never regret it. You’ll see when you have your own children, Augusta.” She looked up at the kitchen clock. “Which reminds me, I’d better hurry and finish here, Scotty will be wanting to leave for the play soon. And I haven’t cut out the finger gelatin molds for Chloe yet. And you...”

  “Mother?”

  “Yes?”

  “I love you.”

  “Of course you do. Now hurry or you’ll be late too.”

  ELEVEN

  “OKAY, NOW I’M REALLY getting worried,” Scotty said, his voice loud in the silence they’d been cruising along in on their way to the school. He glanced at her, then back at the road. “You’re being awfully quiet over there. You’re not worried about your Munchkins, are you? Because even if they forget all the words to the songs, their costumes are cute enough to get a standing ovation. It’s more fun when the little kids screw up anyway. Gives the parents something to talk about for the rest of their lives,” he said, rattling on in the darkness. “I was a tree in the second grade, and my parents razzed me about rubbing my nose and scratching my backside until the day they died. And they all have camcorders now, so they can get it all on tape. Emotional blackmail. Parents live for that sort of stuff.” A very brief pause. “ ’Course, it’s only cute when they’re little. Kids expect more of themselves when they get older. Not screwing up becomes a matter of pride and—”

  “Who’s worried here? You or me?”

  He looked at her. “Me,” he said honestly. “I’m wondering now if maybe we shouldn’t have waited until after Christmas to do this. Maybe I rushed it. A few more weeks of rehearsal wouldn’t have hurt. Some of the juniors and seniors have been studying for the SATs during all this—”

  “Scotty.”

  Again he glanced her way.

  “My Munchkins could do this in their sleep, and your kids are having the time of their life, if we’d waited till after Christmas vacation, we would have lost the momentum, it would have gotten old and they’d have been bored. They’re ready now. And if they flub up tonight, they’ll cover it up and talk about it at class reunions fifty years from now.” His gaze met hers and she smiled. “You can’t make everything perfect for them all the time. You can’t always wait for the right time and the right circumstances and the right position of the stars. If the opportunity presents itself, you lead them to it and then it’s up to them. You wanted it to be a learning experience. Success and failure are things they need to learn about too.”

  “They’ll have the rest of their lives to learn those lessons. They don’t need me to—”

  “But they won’t have the rest of their lives to learn how to handle it,” she said, cutting him off. “They won’t always have the support system they have now, with each other and with us. They’re going to be fine tonight. But even if they do make a few mistakes, they need to know that life goes on, that they’re going to make plenty of mistakes before they’re finished, and life will still go on.”

  He cast her a considering look.

  “So, snap out of it,” she said, and she laughed. “They’re looking to you for their confidence. And you look about as sure as a dentist with an instruction manual under his arm.”

  He let loose a tight chuckle and sighed. She could see him mentally ordering his body to relax, his shoulders to straighten up, his worried frown to dissipate. Then his eyes narrowed, and he slipped another look at her.

  “This isn’t your usual doom and gloom lecture. You’re the one who sees disaster around every corner, not me. Am I...would I happen to be...” he did a cocky little swagger with his head, “...rubbing off on you? Getting under your skin? Changing your perspective on life?”

  “Humph,” she snorted.

  “Well then,” he said, his tone of voice thankful and full of affection. “Tell me when you got to be so smart.”

  “I’ve always been smart,” she said. I just didn’t know it, she thought.

  Alissa Dumark of the Lullaby League was extremely excited and more than a little hammy, dancing alone well after the chorus started singing again. The Lollipop Guild and their striped tights were a huge hit. The children sang lo
ud and a little off key. And Dorothy didn’t trip over a single Munchkin on her way out of town...So, all in all, Gus’s part of the play was a great success.

  She and Carrie herded the children into the library to wait for the final scene. With a sigh of relief, she then turned her nail-biting to the rest of the play.

  Backstage she helped with whatever she could, so pleased that whenever the Tin Man tripped over his feet he somehow made it look as if it were purposeful. The audience loved it. And when the stuffed Toto fell out of Dorothy’s basket, she ad-libbed a reprimand for him to stay put. Lisa Witt, who played the Wicked Witch of the West, had the most god-awful piercing cackle that night, it was blood-chilling. And Heather Preston didn’t teeter once as she sailed across the stage as Glinda, the Good Witch of the North.

  Gus stood among the curtains stage right and watched them. The student actors, their families in the audience, their pals helping out backstage. Scotty smiled at her once from stage left but was too busy to see the impact the evening was having on her.

  It was as if, after years of eating away at the earth’s crust—at her crust of self-doubt and fear—a new geyser had suddenly broken through, erupted inside her. Shooting forth a hot stream of understanding and with it some confidence and contentment, the steam filling the air around it with love and happiness and hope.

  In a moment of intense peace, she saw herself in a thousand pictures that flashed through her mind. She knew who she was, who she had been, where she was, where she had been. She found a pristine pride in herself, something she’d never known before. She stroked it tenderly, fed it with memories long forgotten.

  She felt free and giddy inside. And just as Dorothy was about to discover the true identity of the Wizard, Gus was discovering that she wasn’t some extraordinary creature with the power to crush other people’s hopes and dreams and expectations.

  She was just a simple woman who could play a violin really, really well, who was head over heels in love with a man and his little girl—with only enough power to make herself happy.

  Dashing back to the library to lead the Munchkins back for the finale, she knew exactly what spectacular feat she wanted to accomplish next in her life, and just exactly how to go about it.

  “Oh! Auntie Em, there’s no place like home,” Dorothy cried out dramatically.

  The floor vibrated and the rafters shook with applause. The curtains closed and opened on the citizens of the Emerald City, and the Munchkins bowed. Each character in turn took a bow.

  And then the students and the audience began to clamor around Scotty.

  Watching from backstage, her heart felt as if it were splitting at the seams with love and pride as she watched him. He exuded a perfect mix of humility and confidence as he walked out onstage with his students.

  He might not be King Midas, she thought, knowing now that the mystery of his powers had more to do with hard work and determination than magic, but there was definitely something about him that made her heart feel golden.

  A true master of manipulation, he took less credit than he gave, citing the students’ hard work and the selfless contributions made by members of the community—endearing him to the masses and stoking enthusiasm for next year’s project. When he finally got to the subject of Carrie Mutrux’s invaluable help and her own efforts with the Munchkins, he wasn’t happy to let them merely wave from one side of the stage, but motioned them over closer to him, center stage.

  Smiling, she automatically took his outstretched hand in hers and waved at the crowd once more. He asked the ladies of the Garden Club to stand in appreciation of their work on the Kansas costumes, and while they were doing their own waving, she caught his eye and smiled at him.

  “What?” he asked, the look in her eyes shaking something deep inside him, making him a little nervous. “What? What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” she said innocently, with a wily smirk.

  He frowned at her, then announced the contributions of several local businessmen and women.

  He cast her a suspicious glance during their applause and she said, “I was just wondering what you’ll do if I give you more daughters, instead of sons?” He gave her a startled look. “What if we have twelve children together and none of them are boys?”

  He dragged his gaze from hers and gave a halting introduction to the parents who helped build the scenery.

  “You’re talking about Plan B, right?” he asked as if they’d discussed Plans A-Z in depth. “The All Girl Kazoo Band that we take on the road?”

  She laughed, and he called for the members of the Ladies Auxiliary to stand up and take credit for the lead characters’ Oz costumes.

  “You still want to marry me, right?” she asked him, not even looking at him, her voice hidden under the thunder of applause.

  “Absolutely,” he said, smiling out at the crowd. He called out a general thanks to all the parents and friends who had attended the play that night and during the final round of applause, added, “Right away.”

  “Good,” she said, nodding her answer.

  He turned to her then and, taking her by the shoulders, he kissed her. Right there in front of neighbors and friends and students and Munchkins and God and...everybody.

  A whole new round of clapping rose up from the crowd, and they were laughing when they came apart. She looked into his eyes and, for the first time ever, saw a true reflection of herself. Her strengths and weaknesses, her joys and fears. She saw that she was capable of great things and huge mistakes at the same time, saw the lightness in that, the way it balanced her life—with the good always outweighing the bad.

  Students and friends were closing in around them. She reached up and palmed his face to keep his attention just one second longer.

  “You won’t be disappointed, you know.”

  He smiled, slow and knowing, then said, “I never thought I would be.”

  A Biography of Mary Kay McComas

  Mary Kay McComas is an acclaimed romance novelist and the author of twenty-one short contemporary romances, five novellas, and three novels. McComas has received several honors and awards for her work, including the Washington Romance Writers’ Outstanding Achievement Award and two Career Achievement Awards from Romantic Times (one for Best New Author and another for Innovative Series Romance).

  Born in Spokane, Washington, the third child of six siblings, McComas graduated with a bachelor of science degree in nursing. She worked for ten years as an intensive care nurse. After marrying her husband and having their first child, the family moved to the Shenandoah Valley in northern Virginia, and McComas soon retired from nursing to raise her family, which included three more children.

  Throughout her childhood and into college, McComas battled undiagnosed dyslexia. As a result, she was an infrequent reader in her youth and early adulthood. It wasn’t until after the birth of her youngest son that McComas began reading for pleasure—books hand-picked by her older sister for their humor. Gradually, she branched out with her own choices, reading widely, until one book changed her life. “Eventually I bought IT. You know ... that one novel that even a dyslexic amateur can tell is poorly written, with no plot and horrible characters,” she explains. “I told my voracious-reader husband, ‘I can do better than this!’ And he said, ‘Then do it.’”

  McComas’s first book landed her an agent, who helped sell four of McComas’s stories and secured the author a four-book contract within a year. McComas published her first book, Devine Design, in 1988, and followed it with seven more paperback novels.

  A favorite of both fans and reviewers, McComas has been nominated for a Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award eight times and has been a Romance Writers of America RITA Award finalist twice, once for Best Short Contemporary Fiction and once for Best Novella. Over the course of her “third career,” as McComas refers to it, she has expanded her scope beyond contemporary romances. She frequently contributes to Nora Robert’s J. D. Robb anthologies and her paranormal novellas have garnered co
ntinuous praise.

  McComas continues to live in the Shenandoah Valley with her husband, three dogs, and a cat. Her four grown children live nearby. Read more about Mary Kay at marykaymccomas.com.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  copyright © 1998 by Mary Kay McComas

  cover design by Juliana Lee

  978-1-4532-8623-4

  This edition published in 2012 by Open Road Integrated Media

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