I stepped on to the stage. The mask was gone. My face was fully on display. I had nothing to lose. The SOOK had sold out tonight’s performance in minutes. Minutes.
The crowd was insane. Groups of women held up signs for Erik Jones. I flashed back in time to mall tours and morning talk show performances. How could they still care about a pop song written all those years ago?
It didn’t matter. I wrote that song for Kim. I would play it for her now. Let her feel my love. I just hoped the music would find her wherever she was. I thought of how beautiful she was when she played with abandon. I pictured her laughing and playful, splashing water in my face before swimming away. I imagined the furrow of concentration on her brow when she wanted something desperately. I had been that thing and I’d let her go.
The stage was empty. The symphony hadn’t come, but what had I expected with how I’d behaved? I sat down at the piano bench, wiped my sweaty palms on my dress pants again, and cleared my throat.
I spoke low into the microphone. I blocked out the hundreds of people and thought only of Kim. “This is a song I wrote for the woman I love.”
The first notes ofCan’t Look Backrang out into the silent night. Soon my voice joined in. I sang the song from my heart. It was as much a part of who as I was as any classical composition I wrote for the world’s best symphonies. It was all a part of the same person. A person who loved Kim Dae. As I sang, I thought of her. I poured my soul into my words.
Crushes and whispers mature into fire
Control held with a well-worn wire
Thoughts of you burn with sin
I look at you,
But you, you’re looking at him.
My throat was raw from all the feelings that overwhelmed me.
I paused when emotion overtook me. The audience was silent. When I glanced up from the bright lights the whole audience listened with rapt attention. I’d forgotten there was power in all types of music. I’d forgotten this feeling.
Music wasn’t about showing off talent or proving a point. It was about finding a way to make a connection to people. Like the night at the bar, or this song, music was the feeling of universal understanding.
Chapter 40
Share your heart through your music.
KIM
It was a good thing I wasn’t a big believer in signs. Because if I was, I might take it that the universe was flashing a big old “BAD IDEA” one at me right about now.
I ran out of gas. The car drifted to the shoulder with the telltaleclick-click-sigh. Distantly, I recalled the low gas warning icon had been flashing. But I often saw warnings and ignored them. Roddy, for example.
I was stranded all alone on the side of the road, in the middle of the Smokies. In my defense, when I took Mom’s car I’d been hurrying, my nerves rattled. There were a lot of reasons I wasn’t on my gas game, so to speak. The show started in less than an hour and I had no idea if I would make it in time now. I’d been practicing my butt off for days. I had a plan. Frustrated tears burned at my eyes. I took deep breaths to get my bearings. Deep, cleansing breaths. It would be alright. Someone was bound to drive by.
I gnawed on my lip and got out of the car, too anxious to sit still and wanting to wave the first person to pass. How far would the walk be to the nearest gas station? It was still a good ten-minute drive from here. Oof. In these shoes, with a cello on my back? I didn’t think so.
As though from the heavens, a car came around the bend from the other direction. Anywhere else I’d have been hesitant, but this was Green Valley and the car was a white Honda Odyssey. It didn’t exactly scream kidnapper. I waved my arms around like a lunatic trying to get their attention. They passed me and my shoulders slumped, defeated.
But then the car turned around! In a smooth motion, the van performed a three point turn on the narrow mountain road. As soon as it rolled to a stop behind me, I ran to the driver’s window. I knocked as the driver began to lower it.
I was coming off as a total lunatic. That’s okay. I was a lunatic. A lunatic in love and on a mission.
“Hi! I need help. I promise I’m—”
My jaw hit the ground.
“Kim Dae, as I live and breathe. Is that you?”
Shock. That was the only way to put it. Of all the cars, in all the world …
“Jethro Winston.” I stared into the eyes of the man I’d once thought I loved.
He was still as handsome as ever. Older, for sure. But that dark hair, that beard … Maybe I did have a type.
