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"Nice to meet you," Mark said.
"Likewise," Kade replied as they shook hands.
"Is your stepdaughter in the concert?"
"Yes. Sylvie will play the clarinet tonight. Hopefully, she will sound much better than she does in her mother's house," he said lightly.
"I'm sure she'll be great. Performances usually bring out the best in a musician."
"I hope so. How is your mother? Is she awake yet?"
"Not yet, no."
"That's too bad. But soon?"
"Hopefully. They tell me she's healing and to stay positive." Before I could say anything further, Joanne interrupted us, a look of distress on her face.
"Is something wrong?" I asked.
"Your mother promised one of our students that she would play with her in the concert, and now this girl is backstage, crying. It's a bass and violin duet, and she can't do it without a good violinist. Didn't you tell me you play the violin?"
"I do play the violin, but I hurt my hand earlier." I flexed my fingers at the end of my statement.
"Oh, I didn't know," Joanne said, her gaze drifting to my hand. "But are you sure you couldn't just play this one song? This student lost her mom in an accident a few months ago. The music is the only thing that keeps her going. We don't have anyone else who can play the violin at her level. This girl is gifted. It would mean a lot to your mom if you took her place."
I debated for another second, but Joanne's words tugged at my heartstrings. I wasn't going to do it for my mother; I would do it for another motherless girl who had found an escape in music. "Okay. I'll play. I'll do my best."
Relief flooded Joanne's eyes. "I'm sure your best will be more than enough. I'll take you backstage."
I nodded and turned to Kade. "I'll see you afterward."
"Break a leg," he drawled, a smile of encouragement in his eyes.
"I'd actually prefer if you wished me good luck," I said dryly.
"Good luck."
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
I followedJoanne backstage to find a trembling, sobbing girl who was so thin it looked like a strong wind would blow her over. Standing next to her was a double bass that was almost as tall as she was.
"Mila, this is Brynn," Joanne said. "Laura's daughter."
"I know," Mila said with a sniff. "I heard you outside."
"Joanne said you don't want to play your duet, Mila," I said.
"There's no one who can play with me," she replied. "I was only going to do it because Ms. Hawthorne said she'd be there with me."
I moved closer to Mila as Joanne faded into the background. "What grade are you in?"
"I'm a sophomore."
"How long have you been playing?"
"A couple of years. My mom used to play the bass. She taught me how to play, but she died, and I don't know why I keep playing, because she can't hear me anymore."
"I used to think the same thing."
