“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said simply, “may I beg your indulgence for a moment.”
He had their indulgence and then some, Melody thought. The hall had gone breathlessly silent.
“I’m sure most of you know why James Michael Goodwin was unable to be here tonight, conducting this premiere himself, as originally advertised.” The dean strode off the podium and toward the apron of the stage. “For those of you who don’t know, less than a month ago, James was fighting for his life.”
A small frisson of crowd noise met that, but only a small one. As if they were all held in the grip of some kind of spell, quiet returned to the house with stunning speed. Melody was more stunned yet when the dean looked her way for another long pause, his face working, before he went on.
“Tonight,” he said clearly, “we were carrying on in James’s stead, for reasons too complicated to go into here, but reasons I have since come to realize are wrong.” He bowed his head. “Until this moment, I didn’t comprehend how wrong. But truthfully, I now know it would be a mistake to go on as we are with this performance tonight…under the circumstances.”
Melody’s heart nearly stopped. For a terrible, wonderful moment, she wondered how full a confession he planned to make. When he looked at her again, she had her answer. It wouldn’t matter what the dean said or didn’t say now; a miracle was taking place right before her eyes. Gone was the hard-nosed businessman she’d seen yesterday, the man James had dismissed — and who had dismissed him in turn — so callously. Ever so gradually, she could see the return of the man she’d respected and trusted for the last five years.
“Melody, you tried to tell me.” Dean Thomas gave her a sheepish laugh. “Nothing ever done with a hidden agenda…can turn out right.” He lifted his face to the spotlight. “With what I’ve come to understand in these last few moments, I should tell you the concert is over. I should just apologize and take my lumps. However…” He raised the paper to the crowd. “It seems a benevolent fate has intervened on behalf of us all. And now, it’s time for me to step aside and let it work its magic.”
With that, Melody saw him gesture toward the back of the house where a subtle dot of light was visible past the spots and front rows, a light like those the ushers carried. Then the light expanded and grew, and she realized one of the back auditorium doors was open. She saw silhouettes of two men, one stocky and square, one almost gaunt, and her heart started beating double-time.
That looks for all the world like James. But there’s no way it could be. He’s nowhere near strong enough to be up and around and —
She was stopped mid-thought when the dean’s voice cut in, quiet with controlled exuberance. “Ladies and gentlemen…I give you the composer himself, James Michael Goodwin…to conduct our final movement!”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
He was here!
“James?” she whispered, trembling. “Oh, James—!”
She wanted to say so much more, but her voice wouldn’t work. It didn’t matter, for no one would have heard her against the growing sound of the crowd, what started as murmur and swiftly rose — as the audience rose to its feet — and crescendoed to a fever pitch.
Melody would have stood and applauded as well, but she was shaking too hard to move. She could only sit, clinging to the Bosie’s bench, and stare in wonder at each labored step James Michael Goodwin took, braced on a sturdy cane and leaning on the arm of his doctor as he made his way toward the front of the hall. He paused only once, when he stood beside the first row. Then, as if on cue, his grandfather rose from his aisle seat, took the cane from his grandson, and offered his own arm as the second support James needed to make the last few steps to the podium.
By the time James straightened, climbed the steps to the stage, and accepted the baton from Dean Thomas, Melody was sobbing openly, and she knew she was far from the only one. The two men embraced, and she sensed on a surge of joy that James was no longer the enemy, no longer merely a colleague. He had been welcomed back as a son.
James watched the dean leave the stage to another thundering round of applause, his face still working. Then, he raised his hands to signal everyone to be seated and turned back toward the orchestra, catching and holding her gaze last of all.
“Surprise,” he said, sotto voce.
“S-Surprise is right.” She struggled to get her breath back. “James — how—?”
“My doctor’s right here, that’s how.” He laughed gently. Then his smile faded, and an intensity she’d never seen before shone in his eyes as he scanned the orchestra. “What do you say, folks? Ready to make some music?”
The instrumentalists responded with a unanimous hand.
“That’s all I need to hear.” He raised the baton and looked to her alone. “Anytime you’re ready, Mel.”
Funny, suddenly she didn’t feel like crying anymore. Now, she floated on air, buoyant with the prospect of collaborating in public for the first time with the man she loved so much. Smiling that love through leftover tears, she placed her hands over the keys and nodded, and James began the third movement.
She wasn’t sure which amazed her more — the sight of him in her peripheral vision, conducting the piece as flawlessly as if he’d been rehearsing it all that time with the orchestra, or the phenomenon of her own hands bringing magic and fire out of that same music she’d sworn would be the death of her. The further they swept through the last movement, the more they moved together by instinct and intuition, until by the final few minutes, Melody knew she and James were playing the performance of both their lives. Their gazes met one last time, on the final, triumphant chord; then she saw James raise his head and close his eyes, letting that finale ring to the farthest wall before he lowered his baton, and she took her hands from the keys.
For one breathless moment there was absolute silence. Then, Melody found herself in a series of standing ovations, shouts of “Bravo!” and “Brava!” alike, curtain calls — which she made, while James stayed out on stage and led the cheering for the soloist — and finally, the sweetest moment of all, when James, the dean, and she all held hands for one last bow.
The next few minutes were happy chaos. Melody felt herself swept almost off her feet, past the heavy curtains backstage, to the corridor and the Green Room, where the door was firmly shut and locked behind her by none other than the composer himself.
“Alone at last,” James breathed, grinning.
She turned and, for the first time, got a good look at him. In retrospect, Melody was glad she hadn’t gotten one before. He was so thin his tuxedo hung on that lanky frame, and she suspected that the Green Room couch wasn’t built solidly enough to take being leaned on quite so hard.
“I think you’d better sit down,” she whispered. “You don’t look so good.”
“Funny, I’ve never felt better.” He gave her a look that went right through her. “But I’ll tell you what, Mel. I’ll sit down if you join me.”
“Deal.” Without further ado, she settled onto the couch and patted the cushion beside her. “Your turn.”
Slowly, James levered himself down. She didn’t fail to notice the paleness beneath his smile nor the quick wince he gave as he finally settled in, and she couldn’t stop herself from slipping her hand through his. “Now, Mr. Goodwin,” she said, “start explaining. But make it quick — we’re not going to be alone in here for long.”
The smile that broke over his face made her heart turn over. “I had a feeling you didn’t get my message,” he started, “so I had no choice but to show up and deliver it in person.”
“Your message? What message?”
“I called late last night. I left a message with the dean and with Hattie.”
“Hattie never told me.”
“I’m not surprised.” He squeezed her hand. “She made it clear that I wasn’t one of her favorite people.”
“And the dean tried to tell me something before the performance.” Her voice went hoarse. “I told him to talk to my lawyer.
”
For a long minute she said nothing more, but James didn’t much care. It was enough to sit here with her, holding her hand. Coming onto that stage and doing what he’d done tonight had been beyond his wildest dreams. Even if he had been practicing relentlessly with his own copy of the score.
“But I don’t believe Hattie.” She sounded close to tears. If she started, James knew, he’d follow suit. “How could she not tell me you were going to be here?”
“Shh.” He ran a finger over her lips. “Don’t jump to conclusions, Mel. That wasn’t the message.”
“Then what was?”
“That you were to go ahead and play tonight. That there wasn’t going to be any lawsuit. I never meant to hurt you the way I hurt you yesterday. I would have told you myself, but there was no way Hattie would let me at you.” He wanted to kiss her — oh, how he wanted to kiss her — but he needed to right the wrong between them first. “Mel, I am so sorry for what I did to you yesterday afternoon. I know it sounds like a lame excuse, but blame it on bad meds.”
“Meds?” She sounded horrified. “You mean a drug made you go off on me like that?”
“It had a whole bunch to do with it. I was upset about what was going down, but it was the drug that made me a mean son of a — never mind, we won’t go there, either.”
“But it wasn’t all meds, James. On most of what you said, you were right. You had the situation pegged. You knew the dean was up to no good. He was considering you a commodity.” Her face crinkled. “James, I-I’m so sorry.”
“You’re sorry? For what?”
“Then you know — you know—”
“You had nothing to do with it?” He kissed her hand. “Of course I know that. I think I always knew it, deep inside. But if I’d had any doubts, I didn’t have them after I called the dean a second time, at home.”
“You called him? From the hospital?” Her eyes went wide. “What do you mean a second time?”
“I called him first before dress rehearsal, when wind of this whole nasty business first got to me. At that point, he was still trying to play both sides of the fence. He implied everyone was ‘cooperative’ — except me.” James laughed bitterly. If he could laugh, he could ignore those threatening tears in her eyes and not fall apart himself. “Then after Al got me detoxed, I called him again and told him if he didn’t give me every detail down to the dots on the i’s, my lawyer would get it out of him in ways he’d like a whole lot less.”
“Wow.” She shook her head. “What did he say?”
“He told me I should use my influence better, since his soloist — obviously under that influence — was threatening not to play.”
“I wasn’t threatening,” she said heatedly. “I didn’t want any part of this game he was playing.” Then she lowered her eyes. “I had to go ahead. I-I didn’t want to, but they backed me into a corner. That’s the only reason I would play when you didn’t want—”
James put one finger under her chin and raised her head, cutting her off mid-sentence.
“Shh. I know what they did to you, Melody. That’s why I told them if you decided to act on your principles and risk everything, that they could go ahead and sue you, but they’d have to take me on if they did.”
She gasped. “You’d have defended me? But what would that do to you and your grandfather?”
James shrugged. “I would’ve crossed that bridge when I came to it. Grandpa wasn’t exactly blameless in this, so he’d have his own explaining to do. Fortunately, we didn’t have to go through with it.” He kissed her forehead. “But doing what you did took courage. I’m humbled by it, believe me.”
He could hear the sound of voices getting closer to the Green Room. She’d been right; they wouldn’t have much more than a couple minutes alone.
“There’s more I need to tell you,” he whispered. “But it’s going to have to wait.” Gently, he ran his lips over her hair once more. “Don’t go anywhere, will you, Mel? Once all this hoopla is over—”
He never got a chance to finish before a hard knock came on the Green Room door, followed by an irate Hattie’s voice coming from the other side. “Let me in, my girl, and make it snappy!”
Bracing himself, James released Melody’s hand, and she rose to open the door a crack for Hattie to slip in. A moment later she was enveloped in a huge hug. “My girl,” her aunt whispered, “that was—” Then she looked squarely into James’s eyes. “James? You’re—?”
“Back here, too?” he finished. “Believe me, Hattie, I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” He pulled himself up from the couch and moved next to Melody again, slipping his arm around her waist. “Nor do I ever want to be.”
“Well, that’ll make it easier for the press,” Hattie snapped back. “They want both of you, and this way they’ll get what they want. Although I have to say if I were you two, I’d duck out the fire escape and avoid the whole thing.”
James laughed, but Hattie didn’t join in, and he didn’t fail to notice that she couldn’t seem to meet his eyes. He didn’t press the issue. There was time enough for that later. Already he could hear the crowd shuffling outside the locked Green Room, calling Melody’s name. He saw Hattie glance backward, then heard her mutter something unladylike and make for the door. “You stay put. I’ll handle these people.”
“That’s what she thinks,” James whispered in Melody’s ear, then held on tighter. Seconds later the door pushed in, knocking Hattie aside, and he and Melody were confronted with what looked like a hundred people all trying to cram into the tiny Green Room and all shouting questions at the two of them at once. He saw Melody dart from his side to check on her aunt, so handling the rest of this rowdiness would clearly be up to him.
“Steady, folks!” he called out over the din. “We’re not answering any questions here. Go to the press room. The sooner you all go there, the sooner you’ll get your stories!”
Assorted moans and groans cut through the air, but James stood firm, and when the group discovered he and Melody weren’t going to budge, they dissipated in twos and threes and turned toward the hallway.
“Nice job, Mr. Goodwin.” Melody sidled up to him once more.
“Thanks,” he murmured back. “Hattie all right?”
Melody chuckled. “Are you kidding? It’d take more than a door knocking into her to take the starch out of Auntie Dearest. You’ve seen her operate.”
James laughed low. “Yep, I have. And I almost feel sorry for them if they try to mess with her again.”
Melody looped her arm through his and led him toward the threshold. “I vote we give the public what it wants, before they storm us again.”
James laughed and tried to nod, but for some reason he was having trouble moving his head. Or it was moving by itself. Why was the room moving? Wait a minute…no…that couldn’t be. But it was awfully hot in here all of a sudden…
“James?” He heard Melody’s voice shot with alarm, the sound muffled as if he were hearing it down a tunnel. “James, what is it? What’s wrong?”
James couldn’t answer, only tried to grab the jamb for support, but in vain; the wooziness only got worse. He could count the seconds it took for blood to leave his head, for the scene around him to start to fog around the edges…
Then he lost count, and everything went black.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The first thing that filtered into James’s conscious mind was how much he’d always hated the smell of ammonia. So why was some fool subjecting his poor nose to it now?
Oh, but there was another scent, too. A most delightful one, to his left. He recognized that scent and smiled. That was Melody’s perfume. Fine with him. On the other hand, if they waved that other foul stuff under his nose one more time, he couldn’t be held responsible for the damage he’d likely cause…
“Stop, already.” He coughed and opened his eyes. “I’m awake.”
“Just making sure.” Al let out a long breath, then moved the smelling salts, and James heard the sound of mut
ed applause around him. What the—?
“What happened to me?” he whispered.
“You passed out, Goodwin. Scared the stuffing out of us, but looks like you didn’t do any damage. They’re still checking the Green Room furniture, though.”
“Funny.” James grimaced. “Real funny.”
“Just don’t pull any more pratfalls, buddy. Stay where you are, and take it easy until the ambulance gets here.”
“Ambulance?” Melody said it at the same time he did, and hearing her, James shot upright. Bad idea, he realized, when the scenery started spinning again, but Al saved him with a quick hand to the chest and an unceremonious shove back to a prone position.
“Yes, ambulance,” he retorted. “How else did you think you were going back to the hospital?”
“We’re going back?” James groaned. “Oh, come on, Doc.”
“Don’t you ‘come on, Doc’ me. You were out on conditions, remember? Keeling over wasn’t one of those conditions. The least we’d better do is make sure that all you had was a little too much excitement before we let you loose on this town again.”
“Listen to your doctor, James,” he heard Melody say quietly. “That’s what you pay him for.”
James dearly wanted to try sitting up again. He had the strongest urge to steal a kiss. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to try, but she was close enough…
“You hear that, Goodwin?” He saw Al wink at Melody. “You’re supposed to be paying me for this advice!”
James put his hands over his face. “I’m paying. Trust me. I’m paying. But as long as I am…” He motioned Al closer.
“What is it?” Al said. “You need something?”
“Yeah.” He was still speaking to his doctor, although he had trouble taking his eyes off Melody. Much nicer scenery, that. “Use some of that doctorly authority of yours to clear this place.”
From the Ashes Page 19
