She smiled gently.
“You are eight years old and performing at your first festival. I want you to remember what a fun time we had all these weeks playing the fiddle. I want you to always remember your first time here. You’ll probably play every festival from now until you’re as old as Mr. Devon. But this will always be your first time. Have fun, sweetie. Play for me and Teresa Ann and your mom. Don’t worry about any one else.”
“Maybe Kirk?” he said. “And my dad?”
“Okay, play for them, too. If you start to think of anything else, turn and look at me and only me, got that?”
He nodded solemnly.
“Make me proud,” she said, hugging him and then standing. She leaned over and picked her violin case from the grass where she’d dropped it when talking to Sam. Good thing her mother wasn’t here to see that. She’d have had a hissy fit.
“Okay everyone, we’re about to start. Break a leg,” Gina called, shepherding the first group to the edge of the stage.
Sam looked at Angelica.
“Why did she say that?”
“Theater superstition. Do not break anything.”
As the afternoon progressed, group after group stepped up, followed each time by a solo act. When it was Sam’s turn, Angelica went right to the edge of the stage with him. She could see the crowd now, the amphitheater as full as it had been during the fair. Sam walked on, listened until the introduction was finished and then looked at Angelica. He raised the fiddle and began. He played beautifully.
Tears filled her eyes at the performance. She thought her heart would burst with pride. His gaze never left hers. When he was done, he gave a short bow and scurried off the stage.
“Sweetie, go back, they’re clapping for you,” she said, turning him around and pushing him back.
His eyes widened in wonder and then he beamed his smile to the audience. The clapping went on for several minutes. He bowed again and then came off stage, grinning from ear to ear.
“I did it!”
“You did great!” She hugged him and then hurried him away as the next group was introduced.
Twenty minutes later Angelica took a breath and stepped out on the stage in Bryceville, Kentucky. There was no darkened theater, but a wide open amphitheater filled to the brim with people who had come to enjoy good music.
She hardly heard the introduction as she sought Kirk and Webb Francis. They were right on the front row, both grinning at her.
She glanced around at the audience. Normally she never saw anyone at the symphonies. Now she could see every person there—even Paul and Melvin. So they did leave the store rocking chairs sometimes.
Glancing to her right, she saw Sam standing by the stage, to give her support, he’d said. If she got scared, she was to look at him. She gave a wink and placed the violin in the familiar spot, rested her bow on it for a second. And began.
Tchaikovsky’s solo first movement was one she loved. She played it with as much feeling as she could, to honor all the people who had come so far to hear good music. It was totally different from the others on the program, and she tried to see how well it was going over as she played. But, oddly enough after all these years, she felt nervous.
Seeking Kirk again, she focused on him. The rest of the crowd seem to fade as he smiled slowly. She hoped he heard every note.
When she finished the applause was tremendous. People even stood, clapped and yelled Kirk and Webb Francis among them.
She felt almost giddy with delight that everyone liked the music.
The applause went on for several minutes, finally dying down. She smiled again, nodding to Kirk, and began the song she’d practiced on this summer, Orange Blossom Special. She played it looking directly at Kirk, hoping he could hear her, hoping he liked the song as much as he said he did.
The crowd went wild, clapping and yelling. Obviously a favorite with more than one. Momentarily she glanced around and then grinned, playing for all she was worth. The long notes of the plaintive whistle, then the faster notes as if a train wasroaring down the tracks. Clapping went on and faster, so she sped up. The crowd loved it. Finally the song ended, but not the ovation. People called to do it again. Gina nodded from the sidelines, so Angelica played it through a second time, then bowed and left.
“They’re still clapping and calling,” Sam said. “You should go back out there.”
She stepped back in sight and waved her violin and bowed again, then left.
“Excellent,” Hiram said, coming up to them.
“I wondered where you were,” she said, giving him a quick hug in her exuberance.
