Ever since she’d made and sent the video, Brianna had awakened every morning with a jolt of nervous adrenaline to the heart.Will the judges like my playing? What will I do if they don’t?
When she’d been accepted into the workshop, that daily morning jolt doubled in strength.How can I tell my uncle I need time off to pursue a dream without seeming ungrateful?She’d put off telling her family until the day before the workshop started, then muddled through that conversation, listening for the umpteenth time to her uncle talk about responsibility and the value of hard work. He’d finally relented, making her feel guilty that she was abandoning them, even though she’d pushed for him to hire extra temp help. She had not gone back to the coffee shop since.
On the first day of the workshop, that jolt of adrenaline had been so bad she’d thought of going to the ER instead. But gritting her teeth and reminding herself that she’d been through scarier, more uncertain times, she’d settled her heartbeat (mostly), grabbed her fiddle, and headed for the river.
And now this morning, she awoke to…a steady, calm heartbeat and Brock’s words in her mind:You’ve got this.
Crazy how the right person believing in her could change everything.
* * *
“All right, folks,” Anthony clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention in the pavilion. He was with Brianna, Amber, and Jerold at the front so he turned to address the other groups of guitar, banjo, and mandolin players while the singer/songwriters took to the stage, Rachael in the lead. “We’re going to listen to what the singers have been up to and then head down the block and into town for a break. When we get back, we’ll be doubling down on practicing. Only a couple more days until the festival-goers get here and you have your chance to show them what you’ve got.”
Brianna and Amber smiled at each other. They’d been bonding over their mutual love for the fiddle and as fangirls of Rachael’s. Now from the looks of it, they had front-row seats to a private Rachael Collins concert.
Rachael stepped up to the mic. “Good morning! Hope you all are doing great today.”
Everyone clapped and cheered. Movement at the side of the stage caught Brianna’s eye. Jake was there watching his wife, briefly clapping before turning his attention back to the pavilion.
“After dinner last night, I don’t think I need to introduce these two lovely ladies and one fine gentleman to you.” She looked back and forth between the women on her right and the man on her left who joined her at the mic. “Especially after they killed it at karaoke.”
Everyone laughed and Brianna felt the tiniest pang from skipping out the night before. Brock was right—she didn’t want to miss another moment.
Rachael waited for the laughter to die down. “But I have to say that I won’t be surprised when they need no introduction from anyone. These are three amazing talents and I have the pleasure of showing them off to you right now.”
A look passed among the singers—little nods and smiles—before Rachael began singing ‘Down to the River to Pray’ and they joined in on the background harmonies. Brianna and Amber gripped each other’s arms as chills ran down their spines. They sang like angels. Rachael stood back and let one of the other women take over the lead vocals for the next verse and so on until each singer had had a chance in the spotlight.
Wild applause erupted when they finished. They all held hands for their bow. As Brianna watched, she had the first warm and hopeful glimmer of knowing that she’d be standing there soon and listening to the festival-goers clapping for her.
You’ve got this.
When Anthony stood up, she glanced at Jerold sitting on the other side of him. A scowl was plastered to the man’s face as he stared at Rachael, the same scowl he’d been wearing all that morning and the day before. Chills ran down Brianna’s spine again but these were cold and unpleasant.
Amber squeezed Brianna’s arm. “She’s justamazing,” she gushed. Brianna turned away from Jerold to smile and nod in agreement.
“All right, on that note, time for a break,” Anthony said. “Instead of heading down to the river to pray, we’re heading down to Riversong Coffee for a cup of joe. Sound good?”
Ugh!Brianna couldn’t believe she’d forgotten that the workshop stopped by Riversong each year. How awkward was it going to be for her to walk in and act like a customer? Worse, what if they were truly understaffed? She’d feel compelled to go behind the counter and take orders. And if she went behind the counter, she might not come out again.
I can’t. I’ll just tell them I need to practice some more and stay here. It’ll be okay. I’ll go to everything else.
Everyone was standing and talking when Anthony announced that security from Watchdog would guard their belongings while they were gone, so they could leave their instruments. Just then, she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see Brock.
“I’ll take that,” he said as he picked up her fiddle.
“Oh. I…” She looked at the fiddle case in Brock’s hand.
“Uh-oh. I have a hunch you were planning on skipping out again,” Brock said. “Is that true?” His smile turned to a frown. “Do I need to have another talk with Jerold?”
“No, no.” Though the mention of the man’s name made Brianna look around for him. He was standing off to the side, alone, cell phone in hand as he stabbed out a text with his index finger. “He’s not my bestie, but he’s been leaving me alone today.”
“Good. Then off you go.”
“Yes, sir. Unless I could keep you company?” She looked up at him through her lashes.
He laughed. “Nice try. You have no idea how tempting that is. But duty calls both of us.” Brock pulled out his own phone and acted completely absorbed by whatever text he was sending.
Fine. Dang it, I hate that he’s right.
