FIFTY-ONE
My black evening gown felt heavier than usual as I stood in the wings of the concert hall where we were hosting the fellowship gala performance. It felt like it was made of lead instead of silk, and the weight on my chest that had been present since I walked away from Drew was getting heavier by the moment.
Three months ago, performing at the Montana Philharmonic Fellowship gala would have been the highlight of my year. Tonight, it felt like going through the motions of someone else’s life.
“Harper.” Maestro Brennan appeared beside me, his formal tails making him look even more imposing than usual. “Ready for your solo?”
I nodded. Of course I was ready. It was all I’d worked on for weeks now.
Hitting every note perfectly while feeling absolutely nothing.
It felt like I was going through two heartbreaks at once—the loss of Drew and the loss of music as my solace.
Instead, music had become an empty shell, just like Ifelt. Beautiful and put together on the surface, but hollow underneath.
“Good.” He studied my face with those sharp eyes that missed nothing. “Remember, this audience wants to see passion, not just perfection.”
If I could feel anything, I’d probably feel chastised based on the look he gave me, but perfection would have to do.
I didn’t have any passion in me at the moment.
The lights dimmed, and Maestro Brennan strode onto the stage to polite applause. I watched from the wings as he approached the podium, his presence commanding immediate attention.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to our annual fellowship gala. Tonight, we celebrate not just musical excellence, but the creative spirit shaping Montana’s musical future.”
The audience settled into expectant silence.
“Our first piece this evening features one of our most promising fellowship recipients, Miss Harper Tinsley, performing Brahms’s Violin Sonata No. 1 in G Major.”
That was my cue.
I walked onto the stage, the bright lights washing out everything beyond the first few rows. The piano accompanist gave me an encouraging nod.
She must’ve thought I was nervous, but I didn’t feel anything.
I raised my violin, positioned my bow, and began.
The opening notes flowed from my instrument with mechanical precision. Every phrase was shaped correctly, every dynamic marking observed, and every shift executed flawlessly.
But it lacked soul, not because of the piece itself but because of the performer.
The melody that should have soared instead felt like it was trudging through mud.
The final notes died away to enthusiastic applause. I took my bow, smiled the smile I’d practiced in the mirror, and made my way to my seat with the orchestra. We had two more pieces on the program tonight.
I settled into my chair in the first violin section, arranging my music stand and checking that I had the right sheet music for our next piece, although at this point I could play all the pieces with my eyes closed. The other musicians were doing the same.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a special surprise this evening—an extra piece that was not included in the program.” Maestro Brennan’s voice carried easily through the hall.
I looked up from my music, confused. Extra piece? What extra piece?
For a moment, panic made my heart flutter as everyone got into position. And then the next words out of Brennan’s mouth froze me to my chair.
“Miss Tinsley has also composed an original work that we’d like to share with you tonight.”
The blood drained from my face. What the hell was he talking about?
I glanced at the music on the stand of the violinist sitting next to me. My breath caught as I stared in disbelief while Maestro Brennan kept talking.
