Page 84 of The Best Christmas Choir Ever

Watching the others perform in this relaxed atmosphere was such a treat. Charlie did her best to soak up every second of Annette’s soaring vocals and Katie’s wisecracks to the conductor. She was so enthralled watching them perform that she almost missed her cue to center stage. She hurried out, adjusted the mic and gave the conductor a small nod when she was ready. He flicked his baton, and Charlie’s insides trembled as the music swelled behind her.

It was nerves, certainly, and something else as she looked out at that nonexistent crowd. Empty theater seats stared back at her. Tom truly would have been in awe standing here, so why wasn’t she more excited? Why had everything inside her suddenly gone cold? She searched for the thrill she’d had earlier, for the flutter of dancing butterflies. She reminded herself that she was performing alongside the Annette McDonald, but all she could find was the dull beat of her heart. Behind her, the music rang clear, and her voice soared. It should have filled that empty space inside her chest. This, here and now, was for Tom.

But her notes fell flat as the song came to a close. She winced at the mistake.

“Excellent,” the conductor was saying, but Charlie knew it was far from excellent. She had to pull it together if she was going to stand onstage with this caliber of people and do Tom justice.

“Can we…” She cleared her throat. “Could we run it again? I just…” She gave an awkward smile. “It’s been a minute.”

“Of course,” the conductor said, cueing up the orchestra again.

Charlie closed her eyes, letting the sound fill her until there was nothing else but the glide of the strings and the hum of the winds and the shimmering notes from the horns. The music echoed through her, seeping between her bones as she tried to latch onto the feeling of contentment she’d once found onstage.

“Let’s get those lights tested,” Damien called to one of the tech workers at the back of the hall.

Charlie’s eyes flew open as a dazzling display of Christmas lights lit up the interior of the theater, reds and golds and blues and greens twinkling at her as the music reached a crescendo. A prickling chill ran up both her arms, something pinched tight behind her eyes, and suddenly, without warning, Charlie burst into tears.

She tightened her hand around the mic stand to keep it from shaking, feeling the tears stream down her cheeks and drip off her chin. No… Not now! Of all the emotions she’d stuffed away, this pain…this heartbreak had been shoved the deepest.

Charlie realized she hadn’t let herself cry for a long, long time. Not when Gram had fallen and been admitted to the hospital. Not when she’d learned about Frank. Not even after her fight with Julian. She’d always managed to hold the tears at bay. To keep herself from feeling too much. Because those tears had been reserved for Tom. But now, staring out at the dazzling brilliance of all that color, Charlie couldn’t stop the tears because this was what she’d been missing these last two years.

She’d locked so many parts of herself away to try to protect herself from the devastation of Tom’s loss that she’d packed all the color away with it. All the things that filled her with joy. And as the music faded behind her, Charlie realized with sudden clarity that she didn’t want that anymore. She didn’t want this colorless, music-less, joyless existence. She wanted to feel, to breathe, to just sit with the emotion, knowing it wouldn’t drag her under because she had something else to hold on to—the world she’d started to rediscover at Glendale with Julian and the residents.

“I think that’s a good time to break for a quick dinner,” the conductor said, clearly trying to give Charlie a moment. “Then we’ll run it all again.”

There were nods of agreement.

The conductor checked his watch. “See everyone back here in a half hour.”

The musicians jumped up, and a crowd of people surged through the side doors. Charlie waited for the stage to empty, frozen in that spot, the Christmas lights beating down on her, the mic stand rigid in her hands.

“Hey, stranger.”

Charlie let out a strangled breath as she turned to see Alicia making her way across the stage. She surged into her arms. “What are you doing here?” They’d planned to meet up while she was in the city, but they hadn’t settled on a time or a place yet.

“Damien confirmed the rehearsal time, so I figured I’d just pop by.”

Charlie felt a fresh batch of tears along her eyelashes. “God, it’s good to see you.”

“You, too. Everything okay?”

Charlie laughed despite herself, pulling away and swiping tears from her cheeks. “I think I’m having a moment.”

Alicia tilted her head. “Moments are allowed.” She sank down on the edge of the stage.

Charlie sat beside her, feeling the polished wood beneath her fingers.

“You know, it’s okay if you don’t want to do this right now,” Alicia said. “Or at all.”

Charlie gave her a watery smile. “I think I’ve spent so long trying not to feel Tom’s loss, that standing up here, it sort of scared me when I didn’t feel him at all. If that makes sense?”

Alicia took her hand and squeezed.

“But I also think I’ve realized that it’s not a matter of Tom not being here with me, but that I’m not supposed to be here. I put all this pressure on myself to get back onstage, to honor his memory and the dreams he had for us, but this isn’t my dream. Not anymore.”

“Dreams change,” Alicia said, shrugging. “That’s not a bad thing.”

Charlie nodded, feeling as if she was free-falling. “I found a place where the music finally sings to me again, and it’s not here.”