From the Ashes

by Janet W. Butler

  “Clear this place, meaning…?”

  “Get the crowd out of here. I’m not up to all this stress.” This time it was James who winked, so broadly Al couldn’t fail to catch his meaning. With a chuckle, the doctor nodded, then rose.

  “Okay, folks, you heard the man. Back off,” he announced. Protests rose immediately, but Al only shook his head and held his hands up for quiet. “I’m speaking as James Goodwin’s personal physician here, and he needs rest. You’ll get a statement out of him later, not now. Please go to the press room, and we’ll answer all your questions there.”

  “Wait a moment, before you all go, if you please.” Suddenly the dean’s voice rang out over the murmurs, and looking up, James saw him push his way through the crowd. “Before we go to the press room, there’s something I want to say right here and now.”

  James frowned, then glanced at Melody, but she only shrugged. Clearly she wasn’t about to predict what would come out of the dean next; they’d already had enough surprises.

  “If you want to print something for your first edition, print this.” James admired how the dean commanded everyone’s attention, in the midst of milling journalists all around them. “Print that this man here cared so much about the success of this night that he put everything he had on the line, up to and including his own personal well-being. If there were any doubts in anyone’s mind as to the kind of man James Michael Goodwin is, that should put them to rest.”

  Several people clapped, and James saw Melody let out a relieved breath. Then the dean nodded to the crowd in clear dismissal.

  “I’ll join you in the press room momentarily,” he promised. “Ask Dr. Jerome if you’re not sure of the location. He’ll be glad to point you in the right direction.”

  At that, the group wasted no time heading to the other end of the corridor. Al hung back long enough to give a last warning to James.

  “I’ll be back with that ambulance, Goodwin. So whatever you have to do here, make it quick.”

  “Yes, sir, Doc.” James gave a mock salute, then watched as Al disappeared.

  Only the dean remained now, an odd determined light in his eyes. When the bulk of the press was out of earshot, slowly, he drew an envelope from his tuxedo jacket pocket.

  “This,” he said, “is for the two of you. Melody, do the honors, if you would?”

  “What in—?” Hattie joined them. “What is that?”

  “Something I owe all of you,” Dean Thomas said soberly. “Go ahead, Melody. I promise, it’s good news.”

  Pushing himself to a sitting position, James reached his hand up toward her. “Would you rather I take it, Mel?”

  “No, no.” She slipped one fingernail beneath the envelope flap and pulled it open, then unfolded several sheets of legal-size onionskin. James saw her blink, then her eyes went wide, and he couldn’t stop himself. Doctor’s orders or not, he scrambled up from the floor, drawing a shocked look from Melody.

  “I know, I know,” he muttered. “So hold me up, already. The suspense is killing me. I’ve got to see this.”

  She braced him on one arm, then held out the paper so he could see it. James scanned the top, then the middle, then the bottom. What he saw made his blood run cold.

  “So this is the thirty pieces of silver,” he said tersely, looking to the dean with unconcealed anger.

  “The what?” Melody shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “This is the agreement that got us in all the trouble in the first place.” James showed it to Hattie, who nodded as she read. “This is the contract Dean Thomas signed with my grandfather.”

  “The one that arranged for your job?” Melody choked.

  “The one that set me up here, the one that put on this premiere, the one that bought and paid for us all.” Disgusted, James refolded the papers and shoved them back at the dean. “The only question is what it’s doing here tonight. We did your bidding, Dean Thomas. We did what the school wanted us to do. What profit can you get out of rubbing our noses in it now?”

  “No, James, no!”

  James heard Melody gasp at the same time he heard a familiar voice. Twisting to his right, he saw Grandpa standing beside the dean, shaking his head emphatically.

  “You’ve got it all wrong, son,” the Professor went on quickly. “That’s not why Donald brought this to you tonight!”

  “It’s not?” Hattie folded her arms. “Then why did he?”

  “Because there’s something I’d like the two of you to do with this.” The dean chuckled. “I guess I didn’t make that clear enough. Let me show you what I had in mind.”

  Before James could guess what the dean would do, he took the sheaf in both hands, opened it to its full length, then tore it from top to bottom. Melody’s mouth dropped open.

  “Dean Thomas, what in the world—?” she said. “Why are you ripping it up? What’s Mr. Matthews going to say?”

  Smiling, the dean handed one half to James, the other to Melody. “Eric Matthews answers to me, remember? I took James’s advice and used my influence.”

  “But—” James stammered. “But what does that mean?”

  The dean moved forward and clasped James’s hand briefly, then Melody’s. “I meant what I said up onstage. You and Melody…you were right. We were wrong to sell the two of you out the way we inadvertently did. So we’re canceling this contract, as of tonight.”

  Melody gasped. “Dean Thomas, can you do that?”

  “If the parties all agree, he most certainly can.” The Professor’s eyes twinkled. “And once I realized what we’d done to you, James…Melody…I was more than happy to agree.”

  James felt his heart skip. “So what does this mean, Grandpa?”

  “It means I finally have my head on straight.”

  “But—”

  “In plain English,” Dean Thomas finished, “we’ve given back your grandfather’s donation under this contract. We’re footing the bill for this premiere and your salary for this past term. So the premiere is once again back in the school’s hands, where it should have been all along. Our slate is clean.”

  James blinked back emotion. “Your slate may be clean, but your budget’s not going to be. That’s a tremendous outlay for this school to do on the spot. Can they handle it?”

  “We can do it,” the dean replied, “on one condition.”

  “Oh, no, Dean Thomas, please,” Melody groaned. “No more conditions.”

  “Not to worry, Melody. You’ll like this condition.” He smiled down at her, then met James’s gaze squarely. “The school can meet these obligations and square everything up for the future…if we can have James Michael Goodwin on our staff as Composer in Residence for next year.”

  “What?” James was incredulous. “Wait a minute, Don—”

  “No strings attached,” his grandfather finished.

  Melody blinked. “No strings?”

  “Neither Heinrich’s nor anybody else’s money has anything to do with this.” The dean’s voice went husky. “After hearing the music you’re still capable of making, James, it’s my considered opinion — and the Board’s, too, I might add — that the university would be foolish indeed to let you go. You’ll have offers from all over the country, not to mention the world, after tonight. We’d just like to be the first.” He cleared his throat. “So I’m asking you man to man, James. Can you find it in you to forgive us for our past mistakes and start over?”

  James felt lightheaded again. “Dean Thomas, are you sure? I mean—”

  “I have authorization to offer you a full-time faculty contract,” the dean replied. Then, his voice softened. “We all need more music like yours, James. With you on our faculty, our increase in enrollment will more than make up over time for what we’ve invested tonight. All I’d ask you to do is think about saying yes. It would mean the world to our young composers coming up. And to me.” He shook James’s hand, then winked at Melody. “But don’t feel you need to make a decision right on the spot. I’ve got a
date in the press room, anyway. Take your time. I have a feeling it will impact both your futures.”

  As James watched, Melody colored slightly. But the smile in her eyes would not be denied, either. And as the dean turned to go, she tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

  “Yes?” he asked.

  She opened her arms and wrapped them around the dean in a hug James felt all over.

  “Thank you, Dean Thomas,” she whispered. “Thank you so much.”

  “Don’t mention it.” The dean pulled back, his face showing fatigue for the first time that night. “It’s the least I could do. And I mean that literally.” He shot a telling glance toward Melody’s aunt. “Hattie, join Heinrich and me in the press room, would you please? I think these two deserve a little privacy to talk this over.”

  “Privacy, indeed,” Hattie muttered, but her heart wasn’t in it. James didn’t miss the wink she gave him as she linked one arm with Don’s, the other with his grandfather’s, and allowed them to escort her down the long corridor.

  When they were alone once more, James knew two things. One, that he desperately wanted to kiss Melody. And two, that if he didn’t sit down, on the floor if he had to, he’d black out again before he got the chance.

  “James?” As if she’d read his thoughts, Melody swiftly put her arm through his. “I think you’ve had enough excitement for two men tonight. Let’s get you where you can sit down again, or Al will—”

  “I agree.” He chuckled and let her lead him back to the Green Room couch, where he managed to sit down just as knees gave way completely. “And not a moment too soon, either.”

  “Exactly what I was thinking.” Gracefully she smoothed her skirt, then joined him once more on the disreputable sofa. “So, what do you think? A rousing success, a new job offer — wow.”

  “Wow indeed.” James fingered the half of the despised contract he held, then smiled. “But first things first. I think we need to finish this job before we move on to the rest.”

  She held up her half. “You mean settle the old business before we do anything new?”

  “You read my mind.”

  “But…” She hesitated. “I don’t know but that you ought to have both halves of this, James. I don’t know if I’ve paid for the privilege—”

  “Oh, you have. Trust me.” He ripped his own pieces in half. “Go ahead. Make confetti. Set fire to the thing. The quicker we get rid of this, the better.”

  “Confetti, maybe. No fires.” Instead of demolishing all her pages at once, she went at them one at a time. “Dean Thomas would have our heads.”

  James liked the sound of that “our” a lot, but he had one more task ahead of him with precious little time to do it. Already he could hear Al’s voice from down the hall and see flashing red lights out the window. In only moments, he’d be carted back to the hospital, away from the woman he loved.

  “Then we’ll make the confetti, leave it on the floor, and the janitors can sweep it up,” he declared. “They’re picking up spare programs right now anyway. I’m sure they’ll be glad to help.”

  When he tossed the last remnants into the air, Melody actually laughed out loud.

  “Mel,” he said softly, “thank you for standing by me in this.”

  She shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

  “No, it’s a very big deal.” James ran his thumbs over her hands, savoring the softness of her skin, loving the memory of the strength and beauty and mastery those hands had held over his music. “There’s only one thing I wish the dean hadn’t done tonight. I hate to say it, but he kind of stole my thunder.”

  “Stole your thunder? Not a chance,” she said with feeling. “The way you took over that house tonight—”

  “I couldn’t have taken over anything without you.” Carefully, he slipped one hand into his tuxedo jacket pocket. Yep, what he’d been carrying all evening was still there. He drew it out and set it before her. “But when I talked about thunder, I wasn’t talking about what went on onstage tonight. I mean I have something I want you to read, too.”

  Melody withdrew her hands from his. “You have something, too? What is this, note-passing night in the music department?”

  James laughed. “Seems like it. But I hope you’ll like this one, too.” He looked toward the doorway, where Al was mere steps away. “Better do it quick, before those meat wagon guys start getting antsy.”

  She cringed. “I’ve never liked that term.”

  He laughed again. “Me neither. And I don’t like to wait.” He lowered his head until he could look into her eyes. “Please, Mel?”

  He had to fight to keep breathing normally as she took the envelope from his hands. He didn’t miss her caution, her hesitancy, as if the paper might burst into flames on the spot. He didn’t blame her a bit. She’d been through way too much with all kinds of paper lately.

  But he wasn’t prepared for her to read the single sheet, fold it neatly and set it back down on her lap…all without saying a word.

  That must be because there’s nothing to say.

  Misery swamped him. He had gone too far the night before. Al had been right. He’d botched his relationship with her beyond recovering. She’d been willing to stand by his side tonight, to make a good public appearance, but that was as far as it went.

  He heard shuffling steps at the Green Room threshold, and then Al’s warning, “James, they’re ready for you.”

  He nodded. “In a minute, okay?”

  James couldn’t look directly at Al. He didn’t dare let his doctor see the pain slicing through him at that moment, or the guy would think he was ready to collapse again. Too bad there was no known medication Al could give him for a broken heart.

  But neither could James bring himself to simply let Melody go without closure between them. If goodbye was all she had left to tell him, he wanted her to say it out loud. I need that much from you, Mel. I need you to look me in the eye and tell me it straight.

  Then James realized what was wrong, and what a fool he was. Of course. He’d blown it, but she didn’t know how to tell him kindly. Sure, she was concerned about him when he passed out, as any person would be for someone else, but now she was stuck. After the guilt she went through from his accident, no doubt she was terrified something she said would put him into another relapse.

  He longed to tell her not to worry. To scream or rant or rave or do anything she liked. Now that her performing job was over, she could let loose any way she wanted. He’d take every bit of it as his due, and then some. It’d at least clear the air. He was ready, in fact, for anything — except what she did next.

  One moment she was dry-eyed, silent, and still. The next she was slumped forward, her shoulders trembling with sobs.

  “Oh, Mel!” He didn’t care if the ambulance drivers were on triple time; he wasn’t going to let them haul him out the door while the woman he loved fell to pieces. Slipping his arm around her, he pulled her close. “Honey, please, don’t cry. Isn’t there anything I can do?”

  “Yes,” she said, burying her face in his jacket.

  James had started stroking her hair, but stopped dead. “Okay. What is it? Just say the word.”

  “I did say it.” She pulled away from him then, and James couldn’t believe his eyes. How could a woman sob like her heart was breaking, and smile as radiantly as an angel at the same time? “There are tears, Mr. Goodwin,” she sniffed, “and there are tears. I should think a man of your experience would know the difference.”

  He found himself shaking. “What are you saying?”

  “To paraphrase someone I know, I may be falling apart here, but I can still read.” She picked up the paper and waved it in the air. “So does this letter or does it not say Melody Rowland, I love you, will you marry me?”

  He heard somebody gasp in the background. Sounded like Al, he thought. Not surprising. Despite all the trauma he’d been through, James had never cried in front of his doctor. Well, there was always a first time, and this was about to be it. />
  “I-In so many words,” he stammered.

  “So did you want an answer? Or is this confetti, too? Or something someone’s going to take back tomorrow?”

  In reply, he wrapped his arms around her tightly once more, not caring when she dropped the paper and caring even less when his tears fell on her hair.

  “No, Mel,” he rasped. “Absolutely not. No one’s taking this back. It’s yours. I’m yours, if you’ll have me.”

  She looked at him squarely, and James caught his breath at the love in her face. “Then you should have heard when I said yes.”

  “You mean—?”

  “I would be a fool not to want to have and hold the man I love.” She ducked her head, suddenly shy. “I love you, James. It seems like I’ve always loved you.”

  Hallelujah!

  “Mel, you’ve just made one composer very happy.”

  She giggled. “Even if he was too dense to catch on right away?”

  “No comment.” He stretched both hands in front of her. “I had my reasons, and I thought they were good reasons, not to say this to you for too long. Because…of these. Look at them, Mel. I can’t even straighten them anymore. I’ll never be able to again. For my life’s work, they’re useless. Like I thought I was.”

  “No!” She cradled his hands in her own. “No, James. Please. Not useless. Don’t ever think that way about yourself again.”

  “I know better now.” He blinked back more tears. “My dad always claimed an angel was watching out for me. I’m sure of it now.”

  Her face crinkled. “Do you know how glad I am to hear you say that?”

  “No gladder than I am to be telling you.” He wrapped her in his arms again. “I want to hold onto what we have forever. To you. Only you. As my partner. My love. My wife.” He raised her chin with one finger. “I think I’ve known this, deep inside…since before Christmas.”

  Her eyes widened. “Wait a minute. Are you saying—?”

  “That was at the root of what I was originally going to ask you after the Christmas party. If you’d come home with me, so you could meet my parents…and they could meet you. With everything that implies.”