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"Michael!" I thought I would faint right then and there. I felt my heart begin to pound with excitement, making it so hard for me to breathe, I could feel my chest ache. Me, on Broadway? Already?
"It's nothing definite," he warned. "It's just a possibility. We've got to work a lot more on your singing. Being on stage in a musical is a lot different than stepping out to sing a tune or two at your local high school concert."
"Oh, I understand. Of course. But I'll work hard, very hard, Michael. I really will."
"I know you will," he said, patting my hand again. "It's in your blood. Didn't I tell you that from the start?"
After Michael paid the bill and we left the little restaurant, I didn't mind the long ride back to his apartment. I spent it in his arms, dreaming of the Broadway stage and of being with him from one glorious moment to another. Who would have thought that what Momma Longchamp had told me years and years ago would come true.
I knew now she had been trying to forget the tragic events that had led to my abduction. It was as if I had been born a lie. She couldn't live with that or her own sense of guilt either and in time, she got herself to believe the story she had created about my being born at the dawning of day with the birds singing.
"They put a song on your lips forever and ever," she told me. "Someday, people will hear you sing and they will know about the miracle that occurred when that beautiful songbird gave you its voice to celebrate your birth."
That day was drawing closer and faster than you could have imagined, Momma, I thought, and with love in my heart, my voice would be more beautiful than even I could have imagined.
The time that Michael and I had left together flew by more quickly than I wanted. When the morning of the final day came, I was reluctant to open my eyes to face it. Trisha and I had planned it all out. I was to take a cab to the bus station and meet her when she came off the bus from home. Then we would take a taxi back to the apartment house together so that Agnes would believe I had been with Trisha the entire vacation.
After I dressed and packed, I stood with my suitcase and gazed sadly around Michael's apartment. The rays of bright sunlight on a clear, crisp day came pouring through the windows, lighting up our little Christmas tree, ma
king the glitter sparkle, the ferns almost kelly green. Even the holiday wrapping paper around the pile of gifts glittered in the pool of warm light.
"It's been wonderful," Michael told me at the door. "Every single moment. But don't think of it as an end," he chastised as my eyes filled with tears at our parting. "Think of it as just the beginning." He kissed me and pressed me to him. My throat was so choked up, I couldn't speak.
"Now get some rest, my little diva," he warned. "We have a great deal of work to do as soon as school resumes."
"I will. I love you, Michael," I whispered. His eyes twinkled with joy and we parted.
I was early at the station, so I sat on a bench and read a magazine until Trisha's bus arrived. She came bouncing down the steps of the bus, her long red scarf floating over her shoulders.
"Tell me everything," she cried after we hugged. "What did you do? Where did you go? I bet he took you to fancy restaurants and shows every day."
"No, we stayed in most of the time," I said and described how I had prepared Thanksgiving dinner. She looked very disappointed until I showed her my locket.
"It's beautiful," she said, eyeing it enviously. "And it's so nice of him to have had something musical put in it. What are those notes?"
"Oh," I said, realizing she might know Michael's song, "just notes. Nothing special."
We found a cab outside the station and continued talking about our holiday until we arrived at the apartment house. Trisha wanted me to know everything she had done so I wouldn't be caught in any contradictions.
"If Agnes asks," Trisha said, "we had ten people for Thanksgiving dinner and we had duck as well as turkey."
"It sounds like it was a wonderful dinner," I said.
Now it was my turn to be envious, to be envious of a happy, loving family gathered around a dinner table on the holidays.
We were surprised to find Agnes standing in the corridor at the foot of the stairway when we entered. Obviously, she had been expecting us and had taken her position as soon as she heard us arrive, but one look at her face put a chill in my heart. She was dressed in black, her face pale, no lipstick, no rouge, nothing. Her hair was drawn back and tied in a bun. It was always difficult to tell whether Agnes was playing one of her roles or not. Right now, I thought she was playing a mourner.
"You lied to me," she snapped before I could say hello. I glanced quickly at Trisha and then at Agnes. "Lied?"
"Your mother called for you two days ago. She didn't know a thing about your going to Trisha's. Did you go without asking your family for permission? I felt so foolish," Agnes added before I could respond. She twisted her white, silk handkerchief in her hands. "I'm in charge, yes, but I depended upon you, trusted you. When you told me you had permission, I believed you. I should have known better; I should have expected it," she spit.
"I expect a phone call from your grandmother any moment now," she said. She looked absolutely terrified of it.
"She won't call," I assured her. "My mother simply forgot," I declared. "She must have been on some medication when we spoke last and she simply didn't recall. It happens often," I said and fixed my eyes firmly on Agnes, amazed at how easily the lies fell from my lips. I could see her considering the possibility.
"Oh dear," she said; she loved high tragedy. "I don't know what to think. You don't expect a problem then?"
"No." I shrugged. "It's happened before. Grandmother Cutler is used to it, too."
