Once dropped off at the house, she went in and put the violins away, then looked over at Kirk’s house. She was too excited not to share. A minute later she was peeping into the open door of the studio. He was working on the sculpture and she paused a moment to watch him before he knew she was there.
She felt a yearning for things that couldn’t be. How wonderful to rush to share her day with him. To learn what he’d done. To watch as he made beauty from chunks of wood. To have him sweep her up in a hug and kiss.
She could only see a partial side view of his face, but the concentration was evident. He put down the chisel and took some sandpaper, rubbing it gently along the line he’d just carved. His hands were steady and skilled. She could watch him for hours. But the bubbling excitement from the day couldn’t be contained.
“Kirk,” she said, stepping inside.
He looked up.
“Back already? How did it go? How did you get home?”
“Sam’s mother gave me a lift. It was wonderful. I loved hearing all the music, watching everyone playing. It was amazing.”
She came to the table and looked at the art work. She could see the woman in the lone figure, see the trees both welcoming and a bit foreboding. How did he manage that?
“This is wonderful. I can really see the shape now,” she said reaching out to touch lightly.
His work called for touch.
“It’s coming along. Tell me about the practice.”
She beamed at him.
“Totally unlike any rehearsal I’ve been to. It was such fun. The songs were different from what I’m used to it was like magic. I couldn’t have imagined it before. Now I wonder if I can go back to the philharmonic. In comparison, it doesn’t come close. We sat on the grass and everyone encouraged everyone else. It was wild and a bit uncontrolled, but loads of fun.”
“Music is music, different tastes for different folks,” he said. “Think of all the pleasure you give to those who attend the symphony.”
“I guess. But it’s hard slogging through hours of practice every day. It’s more of a job than a love. Today was about loving to share music.”
“You’ve been practicing since you’ve been here. What’s different from back in New York?”
“It’s just different.”
She picked up a chisel and looked at it, placing it gently back on the table.
“Here it’s pure fun. Trying new songs, mastering intricate melodies. I played Orange Blossom Special and everyone was smiling and laughing, clapping. Urging me on. I felt like everyone there was sending vibes to encourage me. That is not something I get at practice in New York.”
He shrugged, watching her with that intensity she now expected.
“Sam was wonderful,” she continued. “He started out a bit shy and nervous, but soon was fully into the song and everyone was as encouraging for him as for everyone else. It didn’t matter he’s only eight or this was his first try.”
She swept her arms wide.
“This was the best day!”
Her hands dropped to her sides.
“And you made it possible,” she said smiling broadly at him.
“I didn’t do anything,” he said.
“You believed in me and my right to make my own decisions. That’s special. You’re coming to the festival, right?”
He hesitated for a moment and Angelica remembered his hearing loss. Maybe it wasn’t as much fun if the music couldn’t be heard in full range. But she really wanted him to hear her play. If he sat near the front, she’d play right to him.
“Sure, I’ll be there.”
Kirk watched as she continued to talk about her amazing day. His heart ached with desire to pull her into his arms, to kiss her in celebration. Hear every detail. She was so happy. He wanted to always remember her just like this. Completely content and happy in the day.
