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She laughed.
He scowled at her. “Ava, I don’t see what’s funny. I’ve been praying and praying for my wrist to fully heal so I can hold the baton. But—”
“I’m not laughing at your injury. I’m laughing at you.”
His scowl deepened.
She set the jacket aside and rose. He still held his arm upright like a flag, and she gently cupped his hand between her palms. “Gil, stop and think for a moment. Where does the music originate? Does it grow from within your heart, or does it grow from something you hold in your hand?”
He stared at her, his eyebrows dipped low. Then his expression cleared, wonder replacing the irritation.
She smiled and nodded. “The gift is within you. The baton is merely a tool for showing it. I understand why you want to hold the baton. It’s the conductor’s instrument, and yourbaton was given to you by someone you hold dear. But, Gil, you don’t need the baton to direct the boys. Your hand put the notes on the page. It can bring the notes to life.”
He bent his fingers slightly, pressing them to her hand. “You’re right, Ava. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Resolve filled his eyes. “Tomorrow, we march. Then Thursday, I will teach the boys the heart of the song.”
Gil
By nine o’clockThursday morning, all twenty boys were in their seats, ready for practice. Well, almost ready. A few were still chortling about Earl’s ungainly way of ascending the stairs. Since he couldn’t put weight on his twisted ankle, he came up on his bottom, lifting himself with his hands and good foot one step at a time. It took him a while, but it worked, and he didn’t seem to mind the teasing, presumably understanding that no malice underscored it.
Gil went to the front of the room and whisked the sling over his head. The boys fell silent when he tossed the cloth onto the nearest windowsill.
Ernie Schenk sat forward in his chair, eyes round behind his spectacles. “Mr. Baty, is your hand all better?”
Gil chuckled. “Not quite, Ernie, but my head is finally healed.”
The boys glanced at one another, frowns marring their brows.
“Boys, I made a terrible mistake.” He slipped his baton from inside his jacket and held it up between the fingers of his left hand. “I’ve been giving too much power to this piece of ebony and not enough to God, who is the true Giver of gifts. But today, it changes.” He returned the baton to his pocket andraised his right hand. “I might not be able to move my fingers or wrist well yet, but I can move my arm. I’m going to trust Ralph”—the boy straightened, pride squaring his jaw—“and the other drummers to keep their eyes on the movement of my hand. The rest of you, watch my motions but also listen to the drummers’ beat. Stay with the tempo they set. And, as you play, listen to what your horns produce. Listen for the heartbeat of the song.” He smiled. “I believe that by the end of practice today, you will be able to hear the soul of the music.”
Joseph
Was he seeingwhat he thought he was seeing? Joseph moved to the front window of the general store to get a better look. Sure enough, Ava was pushing a wheelbarrow up the boardwalk. He called to Mr. Wallace, “I’ll be right back for that order,” then darted out the door and intercepted her.
He grinned. “What are you doing?”
A blush stained her cheeks. “I’m sure I look ridiculous, but how else could I transport all of them at once?” She gestured to four neat stacks of folded black jackets riding in the deep tray.
He touched a gold button on one of the uniforms. “So you’re done, huh? They look real good.” They did. Professional. The boys would look sharp in them. “When I saw you coming with that wheelbarrow, I thought you were delivering a whole passel of pies and cakes to the café. That maybe you’d decided to take it over for Miss Dirks, after all.”
She gaped at him. “How did you know Miss Dirks wanted me to take over the café? I never told you.”
He chuckled. “Ava, you know how people talk. There are no secrets in Falke.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
Would she take over the café now? The townsfolk, especially the unmarried men, needed a place to get a good meal. Ava was smart and a good cook. She’d probably be a good businesswoman. Strangely, the thought of her operating the café didn’t irritate him the way it once had. Why was that?
She wiped perspiration from her brow. “I need to get to the bank building before the practice ends so I can send these uniforms home with the boys today, so please excuse me.” She reached for the wheelbarrow handles.
He stepped in front of her and took hold. “Allow me. I don’t have anything else to do until Mr. Wallace finishes filling Ma’s grocery order.”
She wrung her hands, her expression worried. “You’re taller than me. You might spill them out.”
He rolled his eyes. “Then steady the top of the stacks and let’s go before Gil sends the boys home.”
She pursed her lips, but she braced her hands on the front two stacks and waddled along beside him. As they neared the building, notes from the song the boys were playing floated from the open windows. He tilted his head, straining to recognize the tune. Lilting and sweet, definitely attention-grabbing, but unfamiliar to him. He glanced at Ava, prepared to ask if she knew what it was, but her face had gone white.
He abruptly stopped. “Ava, are you all right?”
