“We’ll start Sam practicing his song then I’ll show you how to get started,” she said to Teresa Ann.
She wasn’t sure how she would manage two very different levels at the same time, but she was willing to try.
The time flew by. Sam stopped practicing from time to time to listen as Angelica explained to Teresa Ann the proper way to hold the violin and the bow. Then with a glance from Angelica, he’d begin practicing again.
An hour passed quickly and Angelica decided that was enough of lesson time for both the children. She was surprised how much fun she’d had with such rank beginners.
“You did well, Teresa Ann,” she said, wiping the violin and putting it in the stand Webb Francis had for it.
“And you, Sam, are going to be the star of the festival. You’re really coming along. Just keep practicing.”
Both children grinned.
“You tell your mother that lessons are once a week, but practice is every day. No charge for practices.” She suspected money was tight with the girl’s family and didn’t want to deny her the chance to learn because of finances. Webb Francis could make other arrangements when he returned and took over.
“Every day?” Teresa Ann’s eyes widened.
“Not on the weekend,” Angelica clarified. “And only for about a half hour. Can you do that?”
Both children nodded solemnly.
“Thanks, Miss Cannon,” Sam said.
“Thank you, Miss Cannon,” Teresa Ann echoed.
Both children ran out and down the road, laughing and talking about how they’d surprise everyone when they won the festival competition.
Angelica finished tidying up the music room and went to get a glass of iced tea. She’d had as much fun as the children. Maybe she had a talent for teaching as well as playing.
She’d never forget the look of sheer delight Teresa Ann had displayed when she’d played a short beginner’s tune. Angelica could remember her own delight when she played a song. It had seemed like magic way back when.
So when had it become more drudgery than joy?
She was just tired and jaded from the hectic schedule over the last few years. This vacation was just what she needed.
During the afternoon, she’d spotted a CD player in Webb Francis’s music room. Of course he’d have one. Now she could borrow CDs from the library and listen at home.
By the time she returned from picking up a selection of music it was late enough to prepare dinner. She’d eat it on the porch, listening to the quiet of the Kentucky evening. She had plenty to think about.
The next morning Angelica had scarcely started her coffee when there was a knock on the back door. Kirk stood on the back stoop.
“Come with me this morning. We’re working on the barn and there’ll be others there you can meet. Gina’s the chair of the festival this year. She’s worked with Webb Francis in the past. You can meet her , too,” he said.
This morning he wore another T-shirt and faded jeans, with sturdy work shoes on his feet. His intense gaze had her heart turning flip-flops even as she tried to convince herself it was merely so he could understand her when she spoke.
“I can’t build a barn,” she said.
He laughed. “No one’s asking you to. There’s a potluck lunch, so you can meet people.”
“I should bring something, then.”
“Nope, taken care of. Are you coming or not?”
She hesitated only a moment.
“Coming. Do we leave now?”
“In about twenty minutes.”
