Well, that was a little bit reassuring, except... "So it was just anxiety?"
"Yes. Long periods of stress often cause a person to have what might have been termed a nervous breakdown in previous years. It's a result of your nervous system being on high alert for far too long. It basically crashes and goes haywire, and you feel like your whole body is out of whack. It's what we've termed a panic attack."
"So what do I do to avoid them?"
He gave her a little smile, even though he was obviously in a hurry. "That's what I'd like for you to talk to your PCP about. They'll be able to give you all the details. For now, put yourself under as little stress as possible. Rest, eat healthy, and follow up with your doctor."
He paused, but did not ask her if she had any more questions before he turned and strode out the door.
"This is just anxiety?" Sasha said from the other side of the room.
Grace wondered why she had let her in there in the first place. She didn't need someone shoving her nose in the fact that she had canceled a sold-out concert that the president was attending in order to go to the hospital for a bad case of nerves. She was a professional. She didn't have bad cases of nerves.
Except, apparently she did.
"I'm sorry. I know I let you down. And all the people who paid to get in."
"Yeah. I told them you were most likely having a heart attack and you had to cancel the concert. I'm not sure I could tell them you had stage fright. Is that what we're gonna call this?"
"I guess it doesn't really matter what we call it, does it?" It was just a matter of her being too much of a coward to go out on stage and perform like she had been doing since she was a child.
"Well, I've told the president that we've rescheduled, and perhaps he will be able to make your concert next week. I suppose you're allowed to take one night off, although it would be nice if you didn't pick your sold-out concert, and the one where the president was attending. The concert last week made you a household name, and every concert between now and Christmas is completely sold out. You are going to do the concert next week, aren't you?"
Sasha must've finally noticed that she was being awfully quiet.
"I don't think I can," she said, and she didn't mean to sound fatalistic, but she could hear it in her voice. She really didn't think that she could. Not at all, and she wasn't the kind of person who spoke the word “can't”. She believed, truly believed, that anybody could do anything that they set their minds to, except she had not been able to go out on that stage earlier this evening, and the idea of going out on it again was terrifying.
She had no idea what she was going to do.
Chapter 3
Candy canes twinkled from every other light post, while twinkle lights outlined large candles on the others. Grace's car slowly moved down Main Street in Mistletoe Meadows as she glanced at each shop, decked out for Christmas in a little over three weeks. It seemed like glitter was in the air, or maybe those were snow flurries.
She thought Virginia was supposed to be warm, not cold enough for snow. Especially not at the beginning of December.
But apparently she was wrong, because that was definitely snow coming down.
In the center of the town, the town square had been decorated to the hilt, just like everything else. A Christmas tree, huge and loaded with lights and decorations, dominated the area, although there was garland on the gazebo and shiny tinsel hanging pretty much everywhere.
Honestly, it felt a little overwhelming, as Grace's hands tightened on the steering wheel. The town even had Christmas music piped onto the street, that she could hear faintly through her closed windows. The current song was a piano jazz version of "Jingle Bells."
Even the sound of a piano made Grace's chest tighten.
She shook her head and glanced down the street, seeing her Aunt Vivian's Victorian home situated on the corner as it always had been during her childhood visits. She had garland hanging on the railing and wreaths in every single window, green with red bows.
It looked like there was a gingerbread house sitting on a table in front of the big picture window.
Grace glanced again as she pulled into the parking place right in front of Aunt Vivian's house.
Aunt Vivian had a small garage where she parked her own car off the street. Visitors always parked right in front, unless she was having a crowd, and then they parked at the church, which was just a block away.
Grace smiled at the memories. Aunt Vivian's beautiful, old, elegant Victorian house, bursting at the seams with friends and family and laughter and fun.
Invariably, since her entire family was musical, they'd end up around the piano. In the early years, Grace's mom played, but then, once Grace turned about seven, she took over the keyboard, and how she loved accompanying her musical family. Especially at Christmas time.
Even those happy memories made her stomach tighten and her throat close.
You have to breathe. The doctor said that it was all in your head. That you had thought yourself into it, and you would be able to think yourself out.
