“Hattie, please. Help me out here,” he coaxed. “I know it’s late, and I normally wouldn’t ask you to wake her, but this is important.”
“You’re obviously not understanding me,” Hattie replied. “She is home, yes. She’s in her room, and I dearly hope she’s sleeping. With what she’s been through tonight, the poor girl deserves some rest. But she’s not going to get it talking to you.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “How you have the nerve to call here, I don’t know. Haven’t you hurt her enough for one night?”
James cringed. “Yes, I know I hurt her—” His voice cracked. “I hurt her enough for two lifetimes. I called to apologize. I have reasons for what I did.”
“Reasons? What possible reasons could any man have for what you threatened her with?”
“When it happened, I was half out of my head.” He swallowed cotton. “Hattie, I got some bad meds. I had a terrible reaction to a drug they gave me. It made me go way over the edge. Sure, I had some reason to be angry about what was going on, but — but I would never have taken it out on her that way. It wasn’t her fault. None of what’s happened is her fault.”
“You’ve got that right!” she snapped. “And there’s no way I’m letting her in for any more of it!”
“You won’t be,” he insisted. “I swear. That won’t happen. I’m back to normal now. At least as normal as I can be, with the mess I’ve got to clean up.”
“Since you made that mess yourself, you’ll forgive me if I’m fresh out of sympathy.” Hattie gave a quick, exasperated sigh. “Please, James, give it up. It’s in her lawyer’s hands now, anyway, not yours. So why don’t you say goodnight before I really get angry?”
“No!” he pleaded. “No, Hattie. Please. Don’t hang up. Please. Not yet.”
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.”
James knew he was on borrowed time, and that time wasn’t going to be spent with Melody. At least not now. Okay. If he sounded the fool, so be it. It was now or never.
“Because, Hattie,” he said quietly, “if you hang up now, then Melody won’t know the lawsuit is off. I was a fool to even mention the word when I didn’t have all the facts. But now that I do, I want her to make whatever decision she feels is right. No matter what happens, I’m standing with her.”
A long beat’s pause met his words, and for a moment James thought she’d already broken the connection. Then he heard her draw a shaky breath.
“So you’ve changed your mind?”
“I doubt I would have gone through with it. I’m not a big one for courtrooms.” He laughed shortly. “But if I ever had a thought of that, it’s gone now.”
“And you’ll change it again…when?”
He winced. He deserved that.
“Never. If I hadn’t been out of my mind, I never would have said such a thing to her in the first place.” He drew a breath. “Look. Just please, make sure you tell her it’s okay. I want her to go ahead—”
“She was going to anyway.”
James felt suddenly cold. “She was?”
“Of course.” Hattie’s tone of voice made him shiver again. “James, she’s known you for three months. She’s been at the music school for five years. It doesn’t take a Rhodes Scholar to know where her loyalty has to lie. So you’re a little late with the gallant gestures, Mr. Goodwin. And way too late to expect me to do you any favors.”
Before he could absorb that, much less reply, he heard a click and knew the connection was severed. He knew he didn’t dare call back and try to push things further, either. There’d be no more telephone calls picked up at the Rowland house tonight.
Had James any strength left, he’d have bounced the phone off the wall. Instead, he could only drop the receiver into the cradle with hands gone limp.
She was going to play anyway. Melody had sided with the manipulators in her life…and against him. Or was Hattie merely making it sound that way out of anger?
He couldn’t believe Melody would have done any such thing without being under duress. The dean himself had said she was ready to quit for his sake. They’d put such pressure on her, no wonder she had caved in. And what right did he have to expect loyalty from her, anyway, after what he’d done?
Small wonder Hattie wouldn’t let me near her. What we’ve put her through this evening shouldn’t happen to a dog.
He picked up the receiver once more, to make a call to his lawyer’s office. Of course, all he’d get was voice mail, and he knew that. But James also knew how to leave life-or-death messages when he had to, and he left a doozy this time.
Then he switched off his light, pulled the covers over his head as best he could around the IV in his arm, shut his eyes, and tried to sleep. Exhausted as he was, he felt restless at the same time. Maybe he should ring the nurse again for something....
He was picking up the pager when the idea hit him.
His doctor would hate it. His parents would fret about it. But the longer he thought about it, the more warmth, peace, and rightness he felt. He could fix this whole miserable mess himself, personally, and leave no doubt where he stood.
All he’d need was a good night’s sleep, and he could do it.
And now, drowsiness came as a welcome guest. James burrowed further into the pillow, pulled the blankets up under his chin, and closed his eyes smiling.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
She’d slipped into the gown and started to button the back when the classical-music station began its five o’clock newscast. Premiere night, and she was running right on schedule.
When the knock came on the door, Melody thought about hurrying, then reconsidered. “Yes?” she called out, straightening one sleeve.
“My girl, you’ve stalled long enough,” Hattie called through Melody’s bedroom door. “Let’s see the dress before you put your coat on and cover it!”
“Well, okay. But then you’ll have to finish buttoning me up.” Grinning, Melody padded to the door and into the hallway, then twirled slowly to let Hattie absorb the sight — a forest-green velvet gown trimmed in cream satin, matching cream buttons on the tapered sleeves and up the back. By the time Hattie had fastened the last button and turned Melody around, her aunt’s smile told Melody she’d shopped well.
“My girl, it’s perfect. A jewel.” Hattie gave her a huge hug. “You’re going to shine like a diamond tonight.”
“Uh-uh,” Melody teased. “The dress is green, so it has to be an emerald.”
“You’re going to make a liar out of me over a color?”
Melody giggled.
“That’s it.” Her aunt beamed. “You should be smiling. Delirious, if possible. Remember that.”
“Yes, ma’am. I promise. I’ll stick it in my memory bank, right between the second and third movements. Now can I just put my shoes on before we hail the limo?”
“Not to worry. Going there, you have me as your personal chauffeur, so take your time with the shoes. You don’t get the limo until afterward.”
She’s only teasing, Melody thought with a shiver, but it’s not such a farfetched idea. If James were playing tonight, there’d be a stretch number out there waiting for him.
Quickly, she slipped into her favorite character shoes — the perfect heels for performance — then sat back down at her vanity and let Hattie fuss over helping her get the makeup perfect, too. When they both agreed she was ready, Hattie went to the closet and took out her coat first.
“Here you go, my girl.”
Relishing the feeling of being waited on, Melody grinned again as she took it from her aunt’s hands, along with a kiss on the cheek. A few minutes later they were buttoned up, gloved, and scarved. But, bundled as Melody was, Hattie wouldn’t allow her to trek back to the garage.
“You wait on the porch,” she insisted. “I’ll pull around the corner and pick you up.”
Melody sighed. “Hattie, I’ve been walking six blocks to school for the last five years. Now, you’re saying I can’t make it to the alley?”
&nbs
p; “Nope. Not tonight, and not in those shoes.”
Melody had to give her aunt that much. Heels wouldn’t cut it in the slush and ice outside. “Okay, okay. You win. I’ll be out front.”
She ambled out the porch door and stood, trying to clear her mind. John Wilson had driven over to talk with them in the morning when he was unable to call — the phones and power had been out for most of the day — but the bottom line he’d advanced was no surprise. He, too, advised Melody to play. She didn’t have the heart to tell him she’d already decided that if he could safeguard Hattie, she would do the concert in order to protect James. Wilson promised Hattie would be fine; but more important, Hattie had endorsed her playing with an alacrity that Melody found touching. With that, her die was cast.
And her fate with James — or, rather, without him — was sealed.
I know it’s the right thing to do. I know it will help James in the long run. But he’ll never know that from me, because he’ll never want to see me again.
What disheartened her was how deeply it hurt to realize that. But Melody hadn’t gotten this far in the music world without being able to deal with some hard truths, and she wasn’t going to shrink from this one. Music was all she’d had before James Michael Goodwin walked into her life again; it was all she’d have afterward, too.
If giving him up was what it took to save James’s career, she was willing to do it. That didn’t mean it didn’t tear her apart below the calm façade she showed to the world. But she had a vital task to fulfill tonight, and that had to take priority over any heartache she might feel tomorrow.
Resolutely, she shifted mental gears. She smiled as she got in the car, made small talk with Hattie, accepted a good-luck bouquet from Barb in the Green Room. She even managed to keep smiling as the dean walked in, resplendent in white tie.
“Good evening, Melody. It’s good to see you here.” He ambled over to her and slipped an arm around her shoulders. “This is a wise decision. No matter what you may think of it right now.”
Melody counted to ten before she could trust herself to speak. Frankly, she was amazed the dean had the nerve to bring up the subject at this point. Wasn’t her acquiescence enough for him? Did he have to gloat about it?
Even the Professor had known better; he’d had at least enough sense not to risk showing his face in the Green Room, although she suspected he knew she’d seen him skulking about the hall earlier.
Well, she could rise above the petty. If the dean expected her to lash out at him, he was going to be disappointed. But neither would Melody let him totally off the hook without at least giving him something to think about.
“I hear the concert’s being televised tonight on cable,” she said, pulling away from his hold. “You think James will watch it?”
He looked sharply at her. “He might.”
“So he’ll know…what we’re doing.”
“He’ll know.” The dean fussed with his cufflinks. “Melody, listen. I heard from James last night, and he has a message he wants me to give to you.”
She felt ill. Like she needed any more emotional baggage to carry right now?
“Yeah, I’ll bet he does.” She folded her arms. “Tell you what, Dean Thomas. Whatever anyone’s got to say from now on, they’d better speak to my lawyer. I can only hurt myself talking to any of you without him around.”
The dean looked so distressed that Melody almost regretted her sharp words, but the truth was John Wilson had cautioned her against discussing any contract matters with anyone outside his presence. Even if he hadn’t told her to keep mum, though, Melody couldn’t stand the thought of one more blow from the double-dealing men in her life. They’d had their fun pulling her strings, but enough was enough.
Fortunately, she was saved hearing the dean’s reply when a knock came on the Green Room door, then a stagehand’s voice. “Forty minutes to curtain. Forty minutes.”
Melody decided this was the escape hatch she needed. “I have to go warm up, sir,” she murmured, and turned away.
He looked crushed, but resigned. “Of course.”
Free at last!
Melody all but ran from the Green Room without looking back. Not that she needed to hurry through warm-ups; since the doors to the hall were still locked, she knew she could take her time in pre-concert preparation. She found the Bosie in wonderful voice tonight — probably under pain of death to the tuner for anything less — and ran through some scales with pleasure. She stretched her hands over the keys, got the feel of heels on the pedals, and planned her route from backstage through the orchestra. Allowing herself to be occupied with logistics was a mental and emotional clearing exercise, and by the time it was twenty minutes to curtain and the doors opened, she was ready to tuck herself back into the Green Room, run one last check of her appearance, and key down.
She was calmed almost to an alpha-wave state before the dean walked over toward her and extended his arm. Reluctantly, but serenely — because she knew it would be unnecessarily catty to refuse — she let him lead her through the darkened hallway connected to backstage. With one last check of the clock next to the curtain, he turned and gave her a thumbs-up.
“Zero hour, Melody,” he whispered. “Here we go.”
“Break a leg,” she returned.
As she watched him go to his appointed spot and wave the concertmaster on ahead of him, she wondered how the dean — a solid influence on her all through school — had succumbed to greed to the point where he’d been willing to sell her out. James had been a stranger who meant nothing, but to have it done to her, too, stung. Perhaps eventually he would appreciate what she’d tried to do in that disastrous meeting, and at least respect her for it. Perhaps someday he’d even thank James for tonight, not the other way around, although she didn’t hold out much hope for that.
But she knew what she had to do, even if it meant selling herself out to do it. What mattered tonight was James, the man, and his blessed music. That was her job tonight, and she couldn’t think of a better way to leave the school’s concert stage than by giving this all she had.
Peeking through a gap in the curtain, Melody saw the full house waiting. They didn’t yet suspect the treat they were in for — and despite the pain of knowing what the consequences of tonight might be, suddenly she couldn’t wait to show them.
Let my hands be James’s hands. Let me show them all what a genius he is.
From that point, she merely waited for her cue. She heard the applause as the concertmaster entered onstage. She took in the fine-tuning of strings and brass, the trill of woodwinds, the gentle thump of timpani, all centered on the piano’s A. Then the dean entered the group to more applause, and, finally, her moment arrived. She walked out with stately composure, paused next to the Bosie, and gave a smile and a bow before positioning herself on the bench.
Now, Melody blocked out all distractions, the way she’d trained herself to do long ago, and let her discipline as an artist come to the fore. Now, there was no crowd of outsiders looking in. Now, there was no more nervousness, no media attention, no past to overcome, no tomorrow to worry about. Now, there was only the music and her hopeless love for the man who’d first trusted her with it.
She gave the dean a quick nod to signal she was ready. Seconds later, the baton came down, and the world premiere of the Goodwin Second Piano Concerto had begun.
Melody always felt a wave of jitters at the beginning of a recital, and James’s piece played off that tension mercilessly. An extended orchestral introduction led into the first bars of the piano solo — and those were chordal, full of color and what Hattie had so often referred to as “pizzazz,” that set the tone for the entire work. Melody went at them with confidence, then abandon, and felt a rush of adrenaline like she’d never felt before.
Yes!
Radiant, she savored the energy as it surged from her body through the piano and back again. She was well into this, in synch with the jazzy rhythms as naturally as breathing, flowing with the mus
ic that by now felt organic to her fingers. The first movement sparkled like champagne between Melody and the orchestra and flew by on wings, and the dean ended it with a flourish. Then he raised his baton a second time, and they entered an entirely different realm with the first bars of the Adagio.
And her heart was lost all over again.
From the beginning of the movement, Melody knew she was in trouble. James’s lyrical line became a metaphor, first of hesitancy, then of tentative trust, then of wholehearted love, that reached into her soul and wrapped around it with a strength she couldn’t ignore, painting the picture of their relationship — a picture now cruel in its clarity.
Melody fought to keep her hands from trembling. I love him so much, and the longer I play, the less chance I’ll ever have to tell him. Tears wet her face, a few at first, then more, falling onto the keyboard as she finished the slow movement, to the point where Dean Thomas, his face filled with concern, mouthed, Are you all right?
She had one brief, fleeting instant of wanting to shake her head no, to stop the concert and speak to the crowd about exactly why she was crying. But she knew that would be a moment’s payback with far too high a price. She couldn’t hurt James that way. Not tonight…not ever.
No, she owed him the best she could give. That’s how she managed to force herself to smile and pretend all she needed was an extra moment to regroup.
She was about to signal the dean to go ahead, that she was okay, when she saw movement around the curtain at stage left and shook her head. Following her gaze, Dean Thomas turned in time to see the stage manager, headset still on, make a quick path toward the podium.
“What in blazes—?” she heard the dean mutter. “Matt?”
“I have a message for you,” the manager said, and Melody saw him hand the dean a folded sheet of paper. What followed became a blur — the manager beating a hasty retreat; faint, puzzled crowd murmurs buzzing through the house; the dean unfolding the paper and reading it for a long moment, then lowering his baton and turning to face those assembled; and the almost unearthly quiet that met his first words.
From the Ashes Page 18
